The Touch of Fall and Tug of Spring

O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow,
Make the day seem to us less brief...
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst...
~Robert Frost 


 I spend a lot of time at the end of winter desperately trying to find the beginning of spring. It is a slow, gradual process that eludes the calendar. But if I look carefully, nature will show me where she's going, and will soon be screaming her invitation to come out and play. I've watched long enough to count on this.

Likewise, the beginning of fall has it's silent progression. It's hard to discern the dissipation of daylight moments. But then one day, you look up and daylight is gone before you're ready.

After months of hot and humid, cool and wet come as a welcome surprise and a winter warning. Of course fall has it's trumpet blare recessional, too. Most all of us enjoy the relief from the heat, and embrace the cool colors and rich gifts of the harvest. But I always grumble at the loss of the long light, replaced by the long shadow.



This winter, I am committed to enjoy every incremental moment into fall, and then into our Seasonally Affected Quarter. Why? Because I am increasingly aware of the tick of the mortality clock, and don't want to wish any precious days away. Better to look back and appreciate.


There are plenty of good things to revisit. This has been a really good fall season, for me and for the nursery. Plant sales have been good overall. Customers have been wonderfully engaged and enthusiastic. I love that camaraderie. And my plant friends have been so generous with their time and energy and adventurous spirit that I have seen a number of great gardens and visited with a number of incredible experts for fun and for inspiration.

I know I spend a lot of time dreading and hiding from the coming short day, cold day period. But this year, let's not call it winter. Let's call it an opportunity to catch up on all those things I never have time for. I've been reading some again, and can't wait for more time for that. I have a huge stack of books that deserves more than an occasional dusting.

But there's another reason to savor the coming cold days with a warm heart: My big girl has her own new life that will emerge just at the edge of spring. It will be the full circle end and beginning again, from "puddle- wonderful"(1) to a  land "enchant(ed) with amethyst".

"Turn Around"

Where are you going, my little one, little one
Where are you going, my baby, my own?
Turn around and you're two, turn around and you're four
Turn around and you're a young girl going out of my door
Turn around, turn around
Turn around and you're a young girl going out of my door
Where are you going, my little one, little one
Little dirndls and petticoats, where have you gone?
Turn around and you're tiny, turn around and you're grown
Turn around and you're a young wife with babes of your own
Turn around, turn around
Turn around and you're a young wife with babes of your own
Turn around, turn around
Turn around and you're the young girl going out of the door
Where are you going, my little one, little one
Where are you going, my baby, my own? 

Malvina Reynolds 

(1) in Just e.e. cummings

A Rose From Any Other Name Would Not Smell as Sweet

Walk out in your garden and look around. Now tell me the story of your garden. Depending on the kind of garden, that story will be filled with plant names, design ideas, timelines, and, inevitably, the story of the plant origin. Most of those origins, you'll find, are about people, not the plants themselves.

I read a Facebook post this morning from a friend who had just been on a plant shopping trip with other friends. The pictures were of the plants, but all the comments revolved around those fun plant buying trips many had shared. Likewise, that information is now circulating among people she doesn't even know who are maybe making their own plans to visit those nurseries, or perhaps others with friends.

Or think about how many plants in your garden have been shared by you to others, or by others to you.

Here's a white flowered Redbud. It is the Chinese version of our North American Redbud, with the more unusual white flower. But that's not the end of the story.

Cercis chinensis 'Alba'

Although it is a lovely tree and one I enjoy every spring, I also remember it was a gift from my mother. And even then, the very best part of that story is that this very tree came from seed from a botanical garden in China through a seed exchange program. My mother worked as a volunteer at Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden when it was first getting started, and her job was to sow and germinate seed that came in from the seed exchange. Once the plants were large enough, those that were extra were sold to raise money for the garden, and this tree was one that she purchased for my new garden.

My most special and sentimental remembrance in the garden is my

Euschaphis japonica in fall

Euschaphis japonica. It is a seedling from seed collected from an island off the coast of South Korea by JC Raulston and Barry Yinger. The seed were handed to me by the late JC Raulston and luckily I got two to germinate. One stands at the entrance to the nursery. JC Raulston was a champion of interesting plant material, and a hero to many of us just coming along in the business. Although we lost JC many years ago, his influence and mentorship still live and blossom here at the nursery, along with that tree.

Rosmarinus 'Blue Spires'

Rosmarinus 'Blue Spires' grows like gangbusters in my garden. It is a selection made by my former Professor  and current friend Dr Allan Armitage.

Hydrangea quercifolia 'Amethyst'

Likewise is Hydrangea quercifolia 'Amethyst'. It is one of many selections made by Dr Michael Dirr. I went back to school to get a horticulture degree when my children were 3 and 5. It was the scariest thing I've ever done. It was also the best decision I've ever made.
Dr Dirr was my advisor, and was such an infectious and inspirational character that to this day I look forward to any opportunity I have to talk plants with him.

Forsythia x media 'Beatrix Farrand'

That list goes on and on- Forsythia x media 'Beatrix Farrand' cuttings identified and shared by the great nurseryman Don Shadow.

Edgeworthia papyrifera 'Jitsko's Red'

Or the incredible number and quality of rare plants shared by plant explorer and gardener extraordinaire Ozzie Johnson. Here is one named for his late wife- an extremely beautiful version of Japanese Paperbush.

Rosa spinnossima 'Petite Pink'

There are also plants here that remind me of others. This rose was not one my grandmother knew, nor was she even alive when I learned it. But she treasured her Scottish heritage, and she was something of a small, spiny, tough woman with a bit of a soft pink side. This plant is, in my mind, the embodiment of my grandmother's dearest qualities and serves as sweet way to keep her close to my heart.

When we share our plants, or experiences with plants, very often what we are sharing is ourselves. In some very real sense, I am surrounded by friends, mentors, and loved ones when I am in my garden. And I believe that I populate the gardens of other friends and customers, too. It is another special way to enjoy gardening, and each other.

Next time you remember to stop and smell the roses, take the time to remember their people connections, too.

"Gardeners, like everyone else, live second by second and minute by minute. What we see at one particular moment is then and there before us. But there is a second way of seeing. Seeing with the eye of memory, not the eye of our anatomy, calls up days and seasons past and years gone by." 

                                            Allen Lacy, The Gardener's Eye

The Smallest of Things

"Sometimes," said Pooh, "the smallest things 

take up the most room in your heart."

AA Milne

It has been a very long, very dark, very cold winter here. I don't like long, cold, dark. I am always trying to think of some way to get thru that slide down the last months of the year and past the early ones of the next. This year, I was given the gift of  a good reason to stay engaged.

 

Oscar came to us as a completely feral kitten, foraging for bits of food we left on the tops of the barn shelves, or bits fallen from the suet bird feeders off our deck. We found that he had figured out how to climb up and over into the insulated rafters of the office as his beloved predecessor Zoey had done. He seemed a lost but very industrious little tyke, and we determined to make him ours.

Oscar

From the painful first days he spent in the bathroom of the office to the wild, playful, and very snuggly mornings we routinely spend now, it has been all about the little things. For the first month I never saw the guy.....didn't even know if it WAS a guy! But I faithfully changed litter, left all sorts of food and treats, warm kitty bed, lights, soft covers to hide in. I spent some portion of everyday sitting on the closed top of the toilet talking to a cat who did not want me there. I read about steps he and I would make towards bonding and stuck to the program no matter how hard it was to go slow. As I focused on our little fellow, I looked hard for the slightest behavior that would indicate I was making a dent. And with each tiny step toward tame, he has also tamed my hard winter heart.

Keteleeria davidiana pollen cones

All of a sudden, I see that spring is about to bust out!! But before it does, I am still enjoying the tiniest of things that will lead, step by step, to the dogwood and azalea blowout most acknowledge to be the advent of spring. Every hour, every day that goes by gives me many small things to savor.

Pollen cones are colorful and interesting structures on conifers; early blooming flowering trees have paved the way; emerging seedling and foliage reveal the magic process behind spring.

Pseudolarix amabilis pollen cones

Magnolia flower

Platycladus orientalis 'Morgan'

Seedling Keteleerias emerging

Picea abies seedling

Abies firma seedling

Lindera reflexa flowers

Asarum maximum 'Ling Ling'

Buxus sempervirens 'Pyramidalis' flowers

I spent two hours in warm sun day before yesterday looking and photographing the miracle unfolding. I recommend a dose of this for any one who's been plagued by long or cold or dark. This treatment will fill those empty corners with a new, light perspective, and open up room in your heart for what is really important.

“It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important.”
― Arthur Conan Doyle, The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes

The Nature of Things

Trees
To be a giant and keep quiet about it,
To stay in one's own place;
To stand for the constant presence of process
And always to seem the same;
To be steady as a rock and always trembling,
Having the hard appearance of death
With the soft, fluent nature of growth,
One's Being deceptively armored,
One's Becoming deceptively vulnerable,
To be so tough, and take the light so well,
Freely providing forbidden knowledge
Of so many things about heaven and earth
For which we should otherwise have no word-
Poems or people are rarely so lovely,
And even when they have great qualities
They tend to tell you rather then exemplify
What they believe themselves to be about,
While from the moving silence of trees,
Whether in storm or calm, in leaf and naked,
Night or day, we draw conclusions of our own,
Sustaining and unnoticed as our breath,
And perilous also-though there has never been
A critical tree-about the nature of things. 

Howard Nemerov

I've spent purposeful hours in a wide range of weather this winter, drawn by the blue of the sky and the hope of the sun's warmth. It is easy to sit back in cold short days trying to wait it out until spring seems closer. But if you do, you miss so much.

Twice now I have toured older Arboretums to admire the big trees. Twice now I have come away with sense of order; a humble awe; a big smile. 

Pinus glabra

On the UNC campus in Chapel Hill we toured the Coker Arboretum in the 75 degree weather of this winter's late December.

Quercus alba

    I have been here many times, and still find gems until then unseen. Most magnificent among those grand Coker specimens I found this time was the glorious Pinus glabra. Pinus glabra is a tree found on the coastal plains of the southern United States, from southern South Carolina south to northern Florida and west to southern Louisiana. Outside of it's current range, it clearly continues to perform very well over a long period of time. I have seen this tree in more southern settings, but none as large and grand as this one.

Wonderful oaks abound in both the Coker Arboretum and the UGA campus Arboretum and many other specimens, both rare and common. All invite reflection and admiration.

Eucalyptus

Quercus stellata

In addition to the grand scale of the great grandfather trees, there is also the lure of the small scale. Would I really say "tree hugging distance"? Probably not. But especially in winter, the details reveal themselves, and capture the attention that begs for a closer look. The texture, color, and shape of tree bark is an ornamental characteristic that is very often overlooked, yet can be definitive in determining identification of a species. On a recent walk in extreme cold weather with a group of plant enthusiasts, we spent a good amount of time on the identifying details of bark, habit, branch structure. Although winter ID can be difficult, by the time the walk was over, they were much more confident and attuned to the small details, and, I think, much more appreciative of the nuances that distracted us all from the cold conditions.

Big old trees/ blue sky

Quercus nigra

Quercus rubra

Ulmus americana

Calocedrus decurrens

Betula nigra

Sequoia sempervirens

With just a little effort, one can see each tree as a member of a group, but then also as an individual. Most tree species have a recognizable habit as they mature. But not every tree will look the same over time. Careful attention to these details can reveal very special plants that stand out. Making friends with individual trees is a journey into your own sensibilities, exposing wonder, and a continuity often interrupted by our busy lives.

Eucalyptus

Firmiana simplex

The older I get, the more that continuity seems important, and there is a lot to learn from the study of trees. As Nemerov says, "Poems or people are rarely so lovely...." and rarely such exemplar models of the nature of things.

THE NATIONAL REGISTER OF BIG TREES

You might be a conehead if.......

Out of the heat of summer and the cool sun of fall comes winter. And with winter comes cold and rain, short days and long opportunities to do paperwork. Ugh. I have worked hard to develop antidotes to this short light season that don't involve alcohol, and one of these is an interest in conifers. After years of cultivating this interest, and hanging around others with the same affinity, I think I can call myself a true conehead. So, how would one know this? Here are a few clues:

You might be a conehead if:

1) You stopped caring about flowers years ago, but.....

                                                     2) Your garden is wonderfully colorful all year around.

3) You begin to use words describing the color palette of your conifers that sound more like interior decorator lingo, or possibly wine reviews.

4) The term "stomatal band pattern" becomes a rallying cry, and an invitation to raise a magnifying glass for all those gathered round.

5) You walk up to a conifer, then look, touch and smell all at the same time.

6) In the southeast, if you have conifers (other than pines) with cones, you throw cocktail parties to talk about them.

7) You've started to speak in Latin without really trying.

8) "Dwarf" now means "grows less than 6" a year.

9) The plant you spent the most on is the smallest one you own.

10) You've started to ask complete strangers what they know about   understocks, compatibility, cloning and root pruning.

11) You recruit your friends to join you in your habit, dragging them out on cold, blustery days to one garden or another with good conifer specimens.

Don't knock it till you've tried it. As addictions go, this one is pretty benign, and loads of fun! Friends, heat and insect-free gardening, rich doses of texture, lots to learn and enjoy. Be the most colorful, interesting, enthusiastic gardener on your block, and before you know it, spring will be here!!

Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world.  ~John Muir

Franky Boy Can't Swim.......or What I Observed in 2013

In the hope of having learned something over the last year, I decided to challenge myself to make a list of things that were new to me, or perhaps just surprising reminders of things I already knew. Here is the list, in no particular order:

1) Get used to drought conditions, and it will start raining. Get used to warm conditions, and you'll freeze your ______ off come winter.

2) Sometimes more plants die from too much water than from not enough. Witness -
Platycladus orientalis 'Franky Boy'.

Platycladus orientalis 'Franky Boy'

He was planted in a lower area for the past three years, and seemed to be happy with a little extra moisture in that spot. After one rainy spring into summer, 'Franky Boy' seems to have drowned in that same spot.

3) You should always tell the truth. You just don't have to tell it so loud.

4) There are advantages and disadvantages in agreeing to be on an industry garden tour. The tour deadline is a good way to get things done, although much sleep is sacrificed as a result. The best part is getting to meet and talk with some icons in the world of horticulture.

With Martin van der Giessen, Margie Jenkins, 

Brie Arthur, and Barry Yinger

I'll take that deal every time.


5) The more you do, the more you can do. The more you think you can't get it all done, the more you can't.

 6) A good employee is worth his weight in gold. (wait a minute, make that MY weight in gold....he's pretty skinny) I sure will miss that boy.

Adam Autry and the bench in the boulder garden

7) Get rid of the negative.

8) Even though you don't have time, get away. See a garden, visit a nursery, catch up with an old friend, take a hike, read a book. They say that when you are standing just outside the Pearly Gates, you never once wish you had stayed later at work. I think they are right.

My best friend Joe

9) Marrying your best friend is ALWAYS the right decision.

10) Your kids are always your kids, and that can make for some very whiny late afternoons. But just put them in the virtual bathtub for an hour or two and you'll see what lovely, smart, and accomplished young ladies they've turned out to be. As one of my very wise friends says, (they are) "what regulates our temperatures"....

11) When deciding what plants to grow for the next year just remember.....they only really want the ones you are sold out of.

12) Don't give up. Just take a break.

13) Pruning is the most important job in the nursery. Too bad I always run out of time before I get to it. I am not talking about plant haircuts. I am talking about trying to uncover the art and elegance of each plant. I did a better job last year, and saw the benefits. I'll be cooking up that extra time I need along with the other dishes for Thanksgiving dinner.

14) Grafting season is coming up. From the look of my list, I sure hope I'll be living another 50-60 years. But just in case I'm not, it's still better to look forward than back.

15) The love of plants can be contagious, and there is nothing more fun than watching someone "catch" that condition. I have happily counted several customers among the newly afflicted, and believe that I served as the vector. I'll be making an effort to spread the passion in the new year.

Accidental Potatoes

“Instructions for living a life.

Pay attention.

Be astonished.

Tell about it.”

 Mary Oliver

 Now that it has turned cold, it was time to spend a little effort on cleaning up my summer vegetable garden beds. Gray watery tomato vines were sprawled out and over the edges of my raised beds. Full unpicked peppers hung limp on ghostly stems. Bleached leaves of broccoli and brussel sprouts showed that they were no match for 25 degrees. So I started pulling things out. The summer vegetables came out easily. Some dried out vines hung on like they had anchors. In fact, they did.

After rooting around in the soil, I came out with roots.....and their attached potatoes. I had forgotten all about them. That is, forgotten them this summer after they came up as volunteers from last spring's incomplete harvest. I quickly mobilized to find other forgotten treasures. By the time I had exhausted myself, I had filled a 7 gallon bucket full of large red skinned potatoes. I proudly washed and dried and presented the bounty to my very impressed husband.

But something about the whole episode is nagging at me. I spend much of my time trying as hard as I can to make things grow. I read. I listen. I talk. I try one recipe after another to make it work, sometimes with success and sometimes with failure. I like the puzzle, and enjoy putting the pieces together to reveal the picture. It makes me feel empowered, like the magician who knows the secret to the trick. Yet this surprise yield thrilled me as much as any other planned crop. This potato harvest had been completely independent of anything I had done, apart from the original planting and the deficient gathering.

Ok.....let's get real here.Who am I kidding? My place here in this big old universe is very special. I am lucky enough to be like the little kid standing on the stool watching Mom cook, or Dad at his workbench. I get to lean up against Mother Nature, and if I am very quiet, and if I pay very close attention, maybe over time I'll learn how she does it. But make no mistake. It is happening with me or without me. Whatever work I am doing all day everyday is just tapping in to the ongoing beauty and brilliance of the cosmos; the essence of the force; the soul of the universe.

It is at once humbling, and exhilarating. It is a revelation that recurs to me in these tiny moments, and yet it is always new. Forgive me if I repeat myself. I just had to tell you.