Category: Journal

The last of the snow banks melted today. I treasure the unveiling of the garden. Out I went to cut back little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium) and maiden grass (Miscanthus sinensis ‘Morning Light’). Their rusty orange and blonde stems, so majestic in the fall, are now toppled and sad, flattened against the

Little Bluestem

ground by months of a four-foot icy white cover. Although my usual preference is hand tools, I reach for electric hedge trimmers to give the tough stems of Miscanthus sinensis ‘Morning Light’ a haircut. I learned this tip from my friend Terri, with whom I shared divisions of the plant when I moved away from Pennsylvania. Then when I returned to the area, she gave me divisions. Working with this plant reminds me of Allen Lacy, who inspired me to try it when I was executive editor of Organic Gardening, and he wrote several essays for the magazine. His description of the way the very thin foliage catches the early morning sun was an enticement I couldn’t resist.

Next, I clear leaves compacted over dead stems and foliage in the perennial beds. Only a few plants are showing new growth—iris (Iris germanica), columbine (Aquilegia canadensis), early meadow rue (Thalictrum dioicum), spiderwort (Tradescantia spp.), catnip (Nepeta cataria), and sedum. Tightly curled leaf clusters of Sedum ‘Autumn Joy’ that hug the ground remind me of tiny Brussels sprouts; the soft olive-green mirrored in the foliage of snowdrops (Galanthus spp.) blooming in clusters around the yard, transplants from a friend’s yard six years ago. I gently pull or cut the straw-colored flower stems from the sedum plants.

A constant wind is blowing today, which feels much colder than the air temperature. Even with a hat over my ears and fleece shirt snapped at the neck, I am beginning to feel battered.

On my way to the back shrub border to see whether bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis), Virginia bluebells (Mertensia virginica), or native ginger (Asarum canadense) are poking through the soil, I catch a glimpse of buttery yellow aconite (Eranthis hyemalis) peeking through the evergreen Russian arborvitae (Microbiota decussata), now spread beautifully beyond its described limits. The cheerful yellow is echoed in the just-becoming-visible swollen buds along the bare stems of winter hazel (Corylopsis spicata). Color is folded in the compressed sepals, promising to unfurl any day.

Taking a break later in the day, I go for a walk along Bushkill Stream. I notice that buds on the pussy willow are just opening. Pulling down a limb low enough

Native Pachysandra

to reach, I rub the fur-like buds. The color is like the tips of bloodroot beginning to emerge next to the native pachysandra (Pachysandra procumbens).

Siberian carpet cypress

The temperature hovered between 30 and 35°F today under mostly overcast skies. I spent an hour or so cutting back perennials, but even with gloves my hands grew cold and stiff. Even though most appearances in the garden suggest that something is over or has ended, the metabolism of the plants has simply shifted to a phase based on available light and temperature. For instance, as I cut away the browned mushy stems of Sedum ‘Autumn Joy’, I can see the tightly curled mint green buds of next spring’s growth at the base. As I canvas around the landscape pulling up plants of pesky hairy bittercress, (Cardamine hirsute), I notice the profusion of grass-like new growth put out by spring starflower (Ipheion uniflorum) before the temperatures dropped to freezing, and the racemes of buds set in late summer by Japanese andromeda (Pieris japonica).

As I work, I listen to birds chirping and singing all around me—cardinals, blue jays, titmice, chickadees, house finches, nuthatches, and an occasional downy woodpecker or flicker. The tone of the voices changes to alarm and warning. I stand up from kneeling and stare into the sky, searching for the source of distress….and yes, there he is, the red-tailed hawk who soars over this neighborhood on his regular route.

Andorra juniper

The foliage of Siberian carpet cypress (Microbiota decussata) turns a dramatic purple-bronze in winter. I admire the contrast with its background plants—Chamaecyparis pisifera ‘Boulevard’ and witch hazel (Hamamelis vernalis). This fascinating arrangement of colors reminds me that Andorra juniper (Juniperus horizontalis ‘Andorra’) is another plant that has interesting winter foliage. I walk around to the front to admire its beauty and am excited to see that my new holly (Ilex meserveae ‘Blue Princess’) planted two years ago has red drupes (commonly referred to as “berries”) for the first time. On my way back to the garage to put my tools away, I pass the mature beautyberry (Callicarpa bodinieri) whose six-foot high thick twiggy mass of bare stems is covered with lavender drupes (tiny berry-like fruit about the size of a lentil).