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News / Clark County News

The Garden Life: Winter-performing plants have limited audience

By Robb Rosser
Published: February 11, 2015, 4:00pm

Much of the plant show at this time of year is low-key, more for the gardener than for someone who is visiting the garden. This may not have been the original motive of planting for winter interest. Most gardeners who take the step of adding winter plants to the garden do so with the intention of giving visitors something to see during the bleakest time of year.

Alas, we just don’t seem to have many garden visitors in late winter. Most people simply don’t think of going to see someone’s garden at this time of year. “What’s to see?” they think to themselves. Unless you happen to be a gardener yourself, most of us don’t believe our gardens are worth dropping by to see in February, either. You ask to visit and they pinch up their faces and beg off.

I understand. I’ve been prone to focus on what’s not performing in my own winter garden. Few of us invite guests over until we have it all together a bit later in the season. But whether or not we have visitors, there will always be a couple of ethereal winter performers putting on a subtle show. And so, it’s usually the gardener alone who is in the best position to appreciate most winter plant performances.

The committed gardener has long ago come to love the garden for more than mere flower production and the bright colors of spring and summer. The longer we garden, the stronger our appreciation of nuance becomes. The intimacy of a small clump of lightly colored flowers speaks to us in an intimate whisper. Plants that fill the niche between the close of winter and the arrival of spring include the large group of early-blooming minor bulbs.

One of the easiest and most reliable groups of flowering bulbs for the winter months is the snowdrops, Galanthus nivalis and G. Gracilis. Snowdrops are versatile bulbs that will thrive in most situations. They are perfect at the foot of deciduous shrubs or trees. When they are happy with their location, they expand their territory with each new year. Galanthus are also easy to transplant. This is a job that should be done when they are in bloom, to give the gardener a chance to see instant results in a new location.

One of the brightest early bloomers is Iris reticulata Harmony. Winter iris flowers open unexpectedly, bursting from thin-bladed stems in rich purple blue with a bright yellow crest highlighting a speckled white throat. For years, I hung on to the memory of seeing an iris in bloom even earlier than I. Harmony. I knew the name of the plant, Iris unguicularis, because I had seen it listed in books of English gardens but I could not find it anywhere on the market.

One year in February, I came upon it blooming in a friend’s garden. Geof had also searched long and hard before coming upon a plant for sale and was more than willing to divide his expanding clump and let me add it to my garden. He warned me that it was not a long-blooming flower and the foliage often became tattered by winter’s end but I could see he was speaking as one would of a loyal, aged hound dog. He was right, and now the flower is worth it to me, too.

The most dramatic flower show in my winter garden came from a pair of Camellia sasanqua Kanjiro planted informally on either side of the entrance to a woodland path. This area of the garden was always a revelation because it is located in an out of the way area behind the house, situated between two shade gardens. It’s not someplace you would typically go looking for color, so the flurry of single, deep red blossoms comes as a delightful surprise. The sasanqua camellias come in all shades of white, cream, pink and coral.

As the temperature of the air and soil begins to warm up, so does the interest of less avid gardeners. They might venture over later in the month to ogle a mass planting of early daffodils emerging from a sea of creeping anemone. If they came by today, I’d take them straight over to Marilyn’s townhouse. The early-blooming camellia along her walkway is striped red and white as sweetly as a peppermint stick. Out my office window, the sun is shining and a dozen red-breasted robins are gorging on holly berries. Even if I don’t expect any visitors, I think I’ll step outside and have another look for myself.

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