Well, my winter vegetable garden looked great this fall and winter — until we got temps at or below 10 degrees Fahrenheit for two nights in a row, a few weeks ago!
Almost everything collapsed in a heap of frozen mush. So last weekend, I cleared out the debris, leaving a few hopeful stems that were still green in case they might sprout leaves again. Even my parsley died! The Bull’s Blood beets seem to have survived; the pansies will come back; a couple of kale plants are trying to regenerate. That’s all, folks! Sigh. Even the Swiss chard gave up the ghost.
Interestingly, some of the lavender in another part of the garden has survived very well (“Phenomenal”). The “Black Scallop” ajuga around it looks discouraged but not defeated. I will probably plant more cool weather vegetables in a while, but not until February at the earliest. Any suggestions? I’m in Zone 7, in Atlanta, Georgia.
I’m quite pleased with how well my winter vegetable garden is doing. I love planting all the colorful winter leafy greens, like rainbow chard, red romaine, purple mustard, “Bull’s Blood” beets, different kinds of kale. I’m even growing cauliflower whose heads will be orange or purple! I have a few pea vines, mostly for their looks although they are thriving. I learned a year ago that it takes a LOT of pea plants to get enough shelled peas for one meal! I also enjoy planting pansies among the vegetables and herbs, as they will bloom all winter in this climate. Finally, there are many fewer weeds in the winter, at a level I can manage to keep under control.
A timely piece by Anne Wareham, about the hellebores that are starting to bloom.
We probably all love hellebores, but some people seem to like them leafy and some people like them naked. And sometimes the plants themselves seem to come kind of in-between. Aren’t they glorious? So why de-leaf? The biggest reason may be Leaf Spot. I really know nothing about this – we may have it, or…
My replanted winter vegetable garden! Some of you may recall that I had high ambitions, last summer, of posting regular snapshots of my summer vegetable garden in the new raised beds I had built for my garden last spring. Alas! Between summer trips to see family, and a long, hot, wet summer, plus planting too many bean vines, my summer vegetable garden turned into a veritable jungle, complete with aggressive mosquitoes.
So this fall, we cleared the whole thing out, pulled hyacinth bean vines off everything (seriously, they went everywhere!), and started over with cool season vegetables and flowers. I have beets with gorgeous maroon leaves; Swiss chard with brightly colored stems; red mustard; curly kale; broccoli; cauliflower; parsley; and, of course, pansies.
Among my containers, I still have lots of herbs that are flourishing; and several roses that have decided to embark on a third or even fourth flush of bloom. Yes, we’ve had unseasonably warm weather; and on Boxing Day, yesterday, it was in the mid-70s! No wonder my poor roses are confused. But the warm weather will help my vegetables get a good start rooting, I think, before it turns cold as expected in January and February.
Are you able to garden at this time of year? What will you grow? Happy New Year to all, and may 2022 bring us increases in health and happiness.
It is mid-February, and we have experienced temperature swings from the high 20s F to the low 70s F in less than two weeks! We’ve also had a LOT of rain. My garden is so confused, as are all the gardens in my neighborhood. Winter blossoms are still flowering (hellebores, mahonias, winter annuals like violas, pansies, dianthus, sweet alyssum), spring bulbs are opening (hello, daffodils!), and confused vines, shrubs, and trees that normally flower in March have decided to start blossoming early (Coral Bells azaleas, Clematis armandii, and Magnolia soulangeana).
Of them all, the only ones that I fear will suffer from the upcoming frost are the saucer magnolias, whose fragrant pink flowers will likely turn brown and drop. So sad, as they are one of my favorite trees and they scent the air with an incomparable fragrance! I hope some of the magnolias in my neighborhood will hold off long enough to provide abundant blossoms after next weekend, when we expect another frost. I don’t (yet) have a saucer magnolia in my own garden, but if/when I plant one, I will try to choose a later-blooming variety as well as a more compact one. Any suggestions?
You know all those wonderful photos of beautiful gardens made even more beautiful by a fretwork of silver frost, or a blanket of white snow? That’s not my garden right now. We are in the midst of record-breaking cold, but here it has been a very dry cold, the worst kind for plants. Temperatures in the mid-teens (stop laughing, Chicago, New England and upstate New York friends!) and not even an insulating covering of snow. We’re doing the best we can with frost cloths, and I know my pathetic, drooping pansies and snapdragons will recover when it gets warmer again.
Thank you for reading my occasional garden posts; I will try to post more often in 2018, and not about the weather.
We have lived in our house for 23 years. It is in the middle of a city, though our neighborhood is park-like, and over 100 years old. We have tall trees and small lots, but my garden and those of my neighbors are a decent size, ranging from one quarter of an acre to a full acre.
Tonight, for the first time in those 23 years, we distinctly heard an owl calling. More than once — in fact, for several minutes. I think it was a barred owl; it had the distinctive rhythm sometimes described as “Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you?”. And it sounded just like my father.
My father was a bird lover and bird-watcher. During my childhood, he developed a fascination with owls of all kinds, and he learned how to call them from the elevated deck on the back of our house, which faced several acres of New England woods. Hoo hoo hoo-hoo, he would call; and the owls would call back to him.
I taught my youngest child this trick some years ago, when we spent a week in Yorkshire at a wonderful, isolated location surrounded by woods on two sides and looking out over the moors on another. I cherish the memories of playing on a swingset with my little boy, stopping to listen to owls calling to each other in the woods, and teaching him to call back to them from the old walled garden, across an ancient ha-ha.
Although my father never took me out into the woods at night to call owls, I used to read the book “Owl Moon” by Jane Yolen to my children. So in honor of tonight’s owl, here is a video snippet from that lovely book: Owl Moon.
Ashwood Nurseries are world-famous for their Hellebores and the range of hybrids they create is quite remarkable for their breadth and beauty. My timing for this visit was perfect as I was travelling down from Manchester to London, and this was an excellent stopover, just to the west of Wolverhampton (for them, close to a big population base but in quite secluded rural location). And as I knew, there was an Open Day, with behind the scenes tours around the glasshouses where the breeding program happens. Marvellous.
The colours range from pure white to deep plum and slate, passing through pale lemons, deeper golds, pinks, peaches, ruby and claret red, jade greens – with spots and dots, stripes, blotches and contrasting veins, picotee edging (a fine line at the edge of the tepals) while the inner ring of nectaries (the petals, really) provide further interest, in green, gold, purple, red…
While I wait for real spring to arrive in my garden (as distinct from the false spring we had in December!), this post is a lovely reminder of January’s own beauty. Thank you, Susan Rushton, for more gorgeous photographs!
In honor of this January weekend’s blizzards and storms, and feet of snow in much of the Northeastern United States, as well as the new season of Downton Abbey airing this month, this week’s Saturday Snippet is from “The Head Gardeners; Forgotten Heroes of Agriculture”, by Toby Musgrave.
Ornate conservatories or winter gardens were an adjunct of any garden that claimed to be of note. They were sometimes attached to the house or detached and set in the pleasure grounds. These great glass structures were home to many exotic and tender new arrivals brought from jungles and tropical regions across the world. Indeed, be they tendder, half-hardy or hardy, the wealth of new plants brought to Britain by the plant hunters excited botanists and garden-owners, and provided head gardeners with a constant onslaught of challenges. These expensive treasures required careful and skilled nurturing to survive. Often in the vanguard of those attempting to cultivate such tricksy rarities, the head gardener had to rely on his experience, a modicum of experimentation and an ability to learn fast.