The Garden Life: Winter good time to take care of garden chores

In the dictionary, winter is defined as the coldest season of the year, extending from the end of autumn to the beginning of spring.

Winter is further described as being a time marked by lack of life, warmth and cheer. There is no doubt it can be dreary as December brings in frigid temperatures, but for those of us who garden in the Northwest, the arrival of winter weather is a signal to perform certain garden chores. Several layers of clothing from head to toe will help stave off the winter chill.

When the last leaf fell from the contorted filbert, Corylus avellana “Contorta,” I took it as a signal to prune this gangly shrub back into shape. Originally planted in a large, 22-inch wooden tub, it sits just outside the large sliding door to the barn and has sat there for so long that the roots have broken through the bottom of the pot and into the earth below. If I tried to move the planter it would disintegrate in my hands. This is one of the only shrubs I prefer tightly pruned so that the focus is on the fascinating growth pattern of the branches throughout winter.

The common name for this shrub is Harry Lauder’s walking stick and I’ve come to think of it as the venerable old man of my garden, as crooked as the cane he carries. I trim it yearly, taking off any branches that have grown too long or any growth with a semblance of straightness. My goal is to keep the mass of twisting branches that turn in within a general rounded framework, along the lines of a holiday wreaths and swags made from ornamental grape vines. At this time of year, with its decorative catkins just emerging and beginning to droop from the branches, this plant gets more comments of sheer delight than any other from visitors to the garden.

Taking center stage

Winter can also help decorative fixtures and backbone plants stand out.

As a Christmas present to myself a few years ago, I bought an oversized, rather expensive, terra cotta-colored fiberglass planter. Not one that almost looks like it’s not plastic, but the kind made in Italy without seams and with true variations in the coloration. It’s often mistaken for a real clay pot with an embossed pattern of decorative garland and medallions. This pot is of a size to make a statement on its own, but I splurged again and bought some long-coveted hellebores, winter flowering perennials with structural, deep green foliage that stands out on its own in the midst of winter. This planter takes center stage in a now barren perennial border, devoid of color other than the mottled blue-green of a neighboring weeping hemlock.

In winter, after leaves have fallen and the earth is bare, backbone plants in the garden take on a more subtle display to match the mood of the season. The Chinese dogwood, Cornus kousa, and the elegant “Shasta” viburnum take on distinctly horizontal silhouettes. Both plants demonstrate the value of filling a space sideways, adding depth to flowerless beds and borders. Conversely, be sure to include the reach-for-the-sky outline of ornamental grasses. Now drained of all summer color, many still hold our interest with assorted plumes of featherlike seed heads.

This winter came in gently and then surprised us with a fiercely frigid, weeklong stranglehold. It will no doubt continue to keep us and the meteorologists guessing from now until the return of spring. There is a point in every winter when we begin to count and recount the weeks and months since the weather turned dreary. Before it’s over, we will think it lasted forever. When the sky feels particularly oppressive in its dank grayness, it’s often better to just stay indoors. There is always something to read about other gardens and before you know it the papers will be full of advertisements for February home and garden shows.

No sooner am I inside on a cold day than I begin to look out the sunroom windows and envision what could be done if I were out in the garden. I’m happy that I followed through on last year’s plan to move the paperbark maple, Acer griseum, to the far edge the view border where it would catch more of the late afternoon sun. Now I can see it clearly from my writing desk. The dramatic, peeling bark of this tree will reflect the faintest bit of sunlight. On the rare occasion when rain turns to snow, it will nestle in the crook between mahogany-colored trunk and cinnamon branches. Before you know it the fat little chickadees will be back, flitting from tree to feeder. In many ways, even the chilliest winter days can warm me to the bone.

Robb Rosser is a WSU-certified Master Gardener. Reach him at Write2Robb@aol.com.