Friday Rose: Belle Epoque

Belle Epoque - one of the first and one of the best bi-color roses I have ever got. Bred by Gareth Fryer (United Kingdom, 1994).
I like to call it a perfect autumn rose - because its autumn flush probably is most attractive, the colors remaining rich russet-amber even when the bloom ages (otherwise it tends to turn pink, floppy and shatter quick if the summer is very hot).
Since it is a hybrid tea rose, of course it reblooms, stays healthy, grows to about 1 m high here, quite vigorous. In the descriptions it says - fragrant, but I can't recall it having any fragrance to speak off.

Belle Epoque

Belle Epoque

Belle Epoque

Belle Epoque

Belle Epoque -in very late autumn

Belle Epoque - in hot summer day

The Roses: Alnwick Castle

Alnwick Castle rose

Alnwick Castle or sometimes called Alnwick rose: one of the more recent David Austin English roses, named after Alnwick Castle in UK, apparently because there was a new garden under construction there, which ought to include many David Austin Roses.

Bred by: David C. H. Austin (United Kingdom, 2001). Modern romantic shrub, English rose.
Plant Source: 2010 Apuldram Roses
Blooming: Reblooms better in the warmer summer, generally not stingy. Nice raspberry fragrance.
Growing: Grows into a nice compact, upright bush, about 1-1.5 m high here in NL. Healthy, not fussy, reasonably vigorous.
Hardiness: Normally she has little winter damage, but gets into trouble if temps drop to -10C and bellow. Did not freeze out with -15C, but lost quite some canes.
Planted: Front garden, almost full sun.

Notes: It is easily one of my most favorite DAs, because of its awesome raspberry fragrance - strong and delicious! Really, it is easily in top 10 of best smelling roses for me, which is subjective of course, but definitely worth to sniff if you come across it.

Allium karataviense "Ivory Queen"

I have found these pics when sorting out the old garden photos: it is allium karataviense "Ivory Queen". I think this one met its demise somewhere down the garden re-design line, although with them bulbs you never know, it can still pop up somewhere in the garden, where it accidentally got dumped with some soil. If it is goners, not sure if I will get it again, as I am not too fond of alliums in general, but this was one of the more nice ones that I have ever had.

Allium karataviense "Ivory Queen"

Allium karataviense "Ivory Queen"

Roses: Two ladies and a pet

Marie Pavic

I had an idea for this post for a while, as something I would like to do if I had a chance to redesign my garden from the beginning. Each time I visit the Rosarium in Winschoten, there they are, three little white roses, Katharina Zeimet, Marie Pavic and Little White Pet. All three of them are old polyantha roses, with small blooms and moderate fragrance. All three of them were in my rose wish list, at some point in time, just never made that final cut; and each year, when I see them bloom in Rosarium, I regret that decision.

In general, polyantha roses are small and a bit odd group of roses. They appeared back in the 18th century: at that time there was an ongoing effort to develop an attractive, repeat blooming rose, mostly by crossing newly imported species roses from Asia, with pretty much everything else. Literally, polyantha means "many-flowered"; also one of the first polyantha roses had r. multiflora "Polyantha" in their parentage. Apart of the name, the novelty at the time was their prolific, almost continuous blooming, combined with low maintenance and reasonable hardiness (especially compared with one of their parents, r. chinensis), which, in many cases, is still not surpassed today.

Marie Pavic

Marie Pavic (sometimes spelled Marie Pavié, possibly also Marie Pavić) is the oldest of the three, a rose introduced in France by Alphonse Alegatiere in 1888. The story of this gentleman is quite an interesting one, originally he was a tanner and began growing flowers only late in his life, after he could not continue with his original trade due to the sickness. In the last decades of his long life (he died at age 72), he created a few new varieties of carnations and roses, among which was this remarkable polyantha, Marie Pavic. Also, interestingly, seemingly it is named after an amateur rose gardener, Marie Pavic, a lady from Agram (Zagreb) in Croatia. There are little known details, but it is possible that this lady was someone he kept a correspondence with; quite amusing really, considering that it all was back in the Victorian era, when it took weeks or even months for the letters to travel between the countries.

A bed of Marie Pavic, past prime

As for the rose herself, she is a small bush rose, white or nearly white (fresh blooms have a pale pink tint). Moderately fragrant, blooms in rapid flushes through the season. Almost thornless (which is always nice, especially in a patio garden!), grows to about 60 cm, but if sparingly pruned, and in good soil, can reach twice that size, eventually. Generally stays healthy and does not require spraying, young canes have a purplish tint, which later fades. Can tolerate a bit of dappled shade, especially in the warmer climates, and is surprisingly hardy, by some accounts up to zone 5, where she can overwinter with minimal protection.

Katharina Zeimet

Katharina Zeimet is, in a way, a younger relative of Marie Pavic, bred by a famous German rose breeder, Peter Lambert, at the turn of the century (1901). P. Lambert lived in Trier, close to the Germany - Luxembourg border. His legacy to the rose world was quite an important one, many of his roses became ancestors of the modern varieties, including a rose named Trier, a parent of many early hybrid musk roses. Katharina Zeimet is one of the many, and although it is not the most famous one, when a rose stays in commerce for more than 100 years, it certainly has some attractive properties and deserves the recognition.

There is little information known about who was the woman of the same name, quite likely it was some lady from Trier society, perhaps a relative (another of his roses is named after Therese Zeimet, born Lambert, which would indicate there were some family ties with Zeimets), or a wife of some important gentleman.

A bed of Katharina Zeimet

A rose, Katharina Zeimet, is a cross between Marie Pavic and another polyantha, most likely Étoile de Mai. In other words, Marie Pavic is its mommy, so it is not very strange that they share some similar qualities. Katharine Zeimet is white or near white, with a small tint of yellow. She is fragrant and, by the looks of it, blooms very early, one of the first roses in the Rosarium in Winschoten; and then keeps repeating till the end of the gardening season. She grows to about 60 cm and seems to stay that way, quite attractive form as a bush. Healthy and reasonably hardy, at least nothing to worry about in NL climate; and quite rain resistant, the petals show no damage even after long periods of rainy weather, which generally is quite rare for the white roses. Sometimes she is also sold under the name White Baby Rambler, which is rather misleading, because she has nothing to do with rambling or climbing, she does not grow even a bit close to that size.

Little White Pet

The last of the bunch, Little White Pet, also a polyantha, is a rose of a bit different origin. It is considered to be a sport: that's when a part of a rose plant for some reason mutates, for example a pink rose all of a sudden has a branch with white flowers, or small rose has one cane that grows very high, turning into a climber. It is a natural process, some of these sports are stable, some can revert to the original color or size. Either way, in case of Little White Pet, it was discovered in 1879 by a father of US horticulture, Peter Henderson, and thought to be is a miniature version of a massive rambler, Felicite Perpetue. Felicite Perpetuea, in her turn, is a rosa sempervirens hybrid, created by Antoine A. Jacques in France around 1827. There is some murkiness in this connection, because Felicite Perpetue can reach a height up to 6 meters and blooms once, when Little White Pet is a small, reblooming rose. It can as well be that White Little Pet was a seedling of Felicite Perpetue, and not a sport, or that they were were related in some other way, not excluding a simple mix up of the records when grafting.

A bed of Little White Pet

Either way, regardless of its origin, Little White Pet is a really nice little white rose, with small pompon like blooms. Flower buds, while closed, remain pinkish, which gives a pretty nice contrast to the open white blossoms. Fragrant, rebloom is decent, people say that in the winterless climates she can bloom as long as 10 months in the year. The whole rose shrub grows to about 60 cm high, although if it is very happy, it can get slightly bigger than that. Healthy, does not need spraying, can stand a bit of shade or drought, the later is quite handy when growing it in a pot, especially in the hot summer. Its quite vigorous for its size, forming a nice mound in one season, and reasonably hardy, at least here in NL.

Sooo... two ladies and one little pet... One day, perhaps, I will get to grow all three of them, in the pots, or maybe even in the ground, as a nice row of little white mounds. These three roses you have to grow to appreciate, they do not have the immediate wow-factor of the hybrid teas roses. You start to like these little gems later, after you look at your garden one day and think, that well.. actually... some of these modern hybrid teas look like they have been made of plastic, maybe I should've gone for something more natural. By many accounts, these three little polyanthas are very satisfying garden plants, blending in into the garden design, rather than screaming "LOOK AT ME"; and with the little care they require, they also are a joy to grow.

(Spring) Crocus

Crocus

When I moved to NL 10 years ago, I was seriously missing... the snow. Back at home snow was often present from November till March, in all sorts of stages, starting as a lovely white fluff and ending up dirty, wet and crusty. While the first snow of a season always was a lovely event, by the New Year you generally got to loath it; and by Mardigrass you could not wait for the damn thing to be finally gone. Then, somewhere in the beginning of March, everything turned into a wet cold mire for at least a week; generally I tried to spend that time at home, observing from my warm(ish) perch how other people do swimming on ice. And then... an aesthetic nightmare! Piles of dog poop, brown grass, rotten goo of an unknown origin and other unpleasantness before the new greenery of the season covers (most of it) up.

Dutch winter often reminds me a bit of a Northern spring, although it is usually greener (the grass seldom gets really brown here) and cleaner (as all the junk does not accumulate in the snow for half of the year). By the looks we are wrapping up the last leftovers of the winter this year, and while, in theory, temperatures still can drop down in the last bit of February, I highly doubt they will.

Crocus

And that means.... BULB TIME! Something I am really looking forward to every year! The first and the obvious, of course, are crocus. There are so many varieties, that at some point I stopped noting the names and just went for the colors, sticking them all over the place.

Generally there are a few basic things to know about crocus. Most of them, with a very few exceptions, like to be planted in a sunny position, in a sandy (or gritty) well-drained soil, although they can also quite successfully grow in clay, as long as it does not get waterlogged. Especially it is important in their rest season: it is essential that they do not get over watered at that point. They are native to the areas with humid winter/spring and dry, hot summers, and because of those conditions they are adapted to go into dormancy in summer rather than in the winter. . It is also the reason why crocus are normally planted (and replanted) in the late summer or early autumn (both spring and autumn varieties), because at that point they start coming out of dormancy and grow new roots.

Crocus

Crocus also do not like to be fertilized, even in the poor soils, so a common mistake is to put them in the beds with other, fertilizer greedy, plants. However, they can grow quite well under the trees or shrubs, because their vegetation season is over before the trees leaf out and they do not care about the shade while they lay dormant. Commonly they also are planted in the lawns, but not all cultivars are suitable for that. It can become a hassle to maw a lawn in that case, because most of the time, especially with big bloom varieties, crocus are not done blooming when the lawn needs its first spring trim. It is also possible to grow crocus in the pots and planters, but those have to be stored in the dry place during the summer, and it can require a bit more skill than one could suspect. Crocus are not very eager to develop new bulbs (ok, officially the bulbs are called corms, but for the easiness, lets just call them bulbs) if the conditions in their pot are not ideal. Most of the time, even if they survive, they won't rebloom well in the pots, so this method of growing is somewhat redundant.

Crocus

More vigorous and faster multiplying varieties can become a bit of an invasive weed, especially it can be difficult to fish out all the miniature bulbs from the rock gardens or slurry soils. It is because of a rather interesting way how they, plainly speaking, dig themselves in: if the crocus bulb "thinks" its well being is threatened, it will try to send its new bulbs deeper into the soil, sometimes even as deep as half a meter or more.

This generally has a lot to do with a life cycle of a crocus bulb (corm) in general. In spring, the food stored in the bulb makes crocus to rapidly grow and produce leaves and flowers. Food made by the leaves is sent back, just not to the old bulb, but to the base of the stem above it. This region swells and forms a new bulb on top of the old one, and the old bulb shrinks and dies. Meanwhile, some spare buds on the old bulb will grow sideways and form new extra bulbs. However, a formation of a new bulb on top of the old one eventually would bring the successive bulbs nearer and nearer to the soil surface. To prevent that from happening, bulb develops contractile roots from the base of the new bulb, which, once grown, contract and pull the new bulb down.

Speaking of the crocus varieties, most commonly grown are cultivars of crocus vernus, crocus chrysanthus and crocus flavus, or their crosses, but there also are many other botanic species grown as ornamental plants. A rule of thumb is that dark purple, violet and yellow varieties often are more easy to grow than the clear blue ones, and multiply faster; with the white ones being somewhere in between.

Learning to learn about the roses

New Dawn

If someone asked about my favorite flower, I probably would not say "a rose". Considering that I have about 150 of them prickly things in the garden, it may sound a bit strange, but for me they are a rather recent garden obsession. Although there always were some in my garden, I never really paid much attention to their names or classes. In our old LT garden they were my moms flowers, I generally did not meddle much with them, apart of adding an occasional impulse buy. In retrospective, my mom was not very good in the whole rose thing either, even though she loves the roses and they actually are her favorite flower. She read a couple of garden advice books, but (as I figured that out later) it was mostly about hybrid tea roses and their maintenance; and that generally is not a very universal thing, because different groups of roses need different care, not to mention that there was no information about the old garden varieties, probably deemed inferior by the authors. So, since nobody really did much of homework, we kept buying crap varieties and crap plants, and wondered why the damn things do not want to grow.

Constance Spry, slightly past her prime

Either way, there are two reasons why I ended up knowing about roses more than I intended to know. First one was a moss rose: I did not even suspect a rose like that existed until I saw her planted in a memorial garden. The second reason was that big cabbagy rose in a local nursery, mistakenly labeled as Eden rose, which in fact was Constance Spry (that's another long story altogether though). Either way, when I saw it, I had to have it! So there we go, one late autumn evening I decided to google them up, and my NL garden never was the same.

As I learned more about different roses though, I also noticed that a lot of information has to be taken with a grain (or, in some cases, with a sack) of salt, because for one, personal preferences play a huge part in the "advices" you get; and for second, people just won't consider different climate conditions, insist on leading you the wrong way and still have a nerve to be pissed when you dare to doubt their "expertise".

Cecile Brunner

To give an example, it is very true for all the tea rose enthusiasts, which you often encounter looking up old garden roses. Typically, they are gardening in hot climates, such as Southern California, Florida or Australia, where they do not have a winter to speak off and dry hot summers. Tea roses might be a viable plant there, but here they are greenhouse plants, pretty miserable when planted outdoors (if they even survive their first winter). In the hot climates, on the other hand, there are other problems with them, and if you are willing to dig under a pile of praise, you figure, that, actually, quite often tea rose blooms go crisp (literally) in hours in +40C dry heat and only a few varieties are ok with it; and in humid hot climates they can defoliate pretty badly due to the blackspot; and they tend to grow into huge unruly bushes which do not like to be pruned, which, in its turn, is not necessarily a good thing for a small city garden. So there you go, "perfect" and "wonderful" and "easy" to grow rose, which is not hardy, is miserable with temps lower than +25C, turns into a dry floristic arrangement with +30C, defoliates completely if it rains, and if it grows, it turns into 2x2 m shrub, which cannot be pruned, because then it goes into a floral tantrum... and that's what you MUST grow in your garden if you live in a hot climate, because all other roses are shit and your faithful rosy advisers will be very surprised, if you decide that, perhaps, some modern variety might be a better idea.

Comtesse de Barbantane

Real answer is, as with every other garden plant, it depends. It depends what variety you choose, what exactly climate you have, and how much of babysitting you want to do with your plant, and most of all, what you like. An ordinary gardener is not a rose expert aiming for a flower show, although quite annoyingly this "minor" difference also often gets lost somewhere down the advice hot line! Spraying your roses every week is not something I would call a "normal" rose care, it is more like rose intravenous therapy, to keep half dead things alive. It also depends if you get a generic or a very specific advice, especially when things are a matter of taste. I remember some people telling how wonderful and strong fragrance of a particular rose was... but eventually I saw that rose in the gardens and hated the fragrance! Lesson learned there, if you want to get something recommended as "very fragrant", it can be a lot of fragrance you do not like!

Louise Odier, grown from cutting

Another big advisory misleading is that whole own-root rose fade. It is mostly an American thing, with some followers there and there. Thing is, most roses in Europe are sold grafted into a rootstock (r. multiflora, or r. canina most of the time), but with some troubles in US rose industry (sick rootstock and and a skill required to properly graft the plants), some specialist nurseries there began propagating their roses by cuttings and sell them "own root". It is a half decent method in warm climates (again, California and co), where roses can take fairly quickly and do not get slowed down by a long cold season. Also it is more viable with some older, more vigorous, varieties, because in the distant past roses were propagated that way and own root vigor was taken into account when breeding them (to some extent at least). However, it is a rubbish method with many modern varieties, because those were created to rely on a vigorous rootstock to give them a growth push, especially in the colder climates, with short growing season. If you happen to like those, you will be screwed if you tried them own root.

Albertine, another rose grown from a cutting

It also has some extra dangers in the cold climates, because those tiny own root plants often do not strengthen enough before the winter and freeze out; but that is not only the own-rootness itself, but also a size of aplant they ship to the customer. Generally, when we buy a grafted bare root rose in EU, we buy a 4 year old plant: its root stock was grown in a field for 2 years, then it got grafted, grew another 2 years, and only then it was considered a quality product, ready for sale. Own root roses, however, can be sold as "bands": that is, a tiny half a year old plant (and with the worst of luck, just a rooted cutting), which generally croak fairly easily if left to fend for themselves in the garden.

Dresden Doll

All in all, when you look for the information, there is quite some encouragement to try exchanging and rooting cuttings yourself, because it is "easy". Well, it isn't. Especially if you do not have an expensive mist propagator or at least a proper greenhouse; and even more so if you want to have varieties that are more "difficult" to root in general. I tried different rooting methods for 4 seasons, just to satisfy the curiosity: from about 100 cuttings (aka 100 possible plants), I managed to grow 3 and a half of plant. Quite a disappointing propagation rate I would say. Of course, I did not have a propagator, or a greenhouse, and perhaps did not TLC (tender love and care) the cuttings enough, but that is how I do things in my garden.

In other words, what works or does not work for you, you can tell only after trying it yourself, no matter what kind of praises the other people are singing to a plant or a gardening method. So it is back to the gardening basics, observe the plant and learn from it.

There are, of course, people who genuinely know a lot about roses and who can give you tons of useful information, from their own experience or experience of their friends, it is just a matter of filtering it all and finding the gems in between all the other cackle.

Bonita

Cosmos

Cosmos bipinnatus

Sometime back, while sorting family photo archive, I came across a picture of my grandma with a bed of Cosmos bipinnatus. The photo was taken sometime back in the 60-ties, if I am not mistaken, at a farmstead of some relatives. It is also a view I remember from many other rural gardens, a sea of feathery leaves, somewhat reminding of dill, with many pastel colored daisies sprinkled on top.

I can't recall us growing cosmos in our LT garden; but that probably was more due to (non)availability of the seeds rather than a lack of interest from our part. Modest, but beautiful, it is one of the must-have flowers in a cottage or rural garden for me; or in general anywhere where a wild flower would look not out of place. Since cosmos blooms towards the autumn it is also a useful flower for extending the flowering season in the garden, and with the wide choice of the varieties available these days, it is easy to find a perfect one to match almost any color scheme.

Cosmos bipinnatus "Seashells"

So what are they? Cosmos is a genus of plants, consisting of flowering plants in the sunflower family. They are native to Central and South Americas, but nowadays also grow in a wild in parts of North America and Africa, where they were (un)intentionally introduced, like many other garden escapees. The common theory is that the missionaries in Mexico started growing them in their gardens (hence a common name Mexican aster) and from there it eventually made its way to Europe and beyond, probably somewhere in the 18th century. Usually there are two subspecies grown for ornamental purposes, Cosmos bipinnatus (purple, white and pink) and Cosmos sulphureus (red, yellow and orange), but with some of the modern hybrids it is not always easy to tell to which subspecies they should belong to. While most have the typical dill like leaves, their height, color and even bloom form can vary significantly: there are dwarf and tall varieties, singles and doubles, with curved petals, stripey, mega size blossoms and so on and so forth, sky (and funds available) is the limit.

Cosmos bipinnatus from a seed mix

Here, in NL garden, I normally sow Cosmos straight to the soil, somewhere in mid April, if we do not have a particularly cold spring. It does not seem to mind this approach, even though the soil is a heavy sea clay, but of course the germination rate usually is better in a greenhouse. Since it originates from Mexico and surroundings, it is not strange that it needs a bit of a warmth to germinate and likes heat in general (it is also a reason why it can be seeded reasonably late in the spring and still do well). They do need some sun, but they prefer poorer soils, so heavy fertilizing is not a good idea. Otherwise they require little extra care, as it often is the case with many other old garden plants. High varieties can get top heavy sometimes and flop after a heavy rain, so it is good to give them some support, either by tying them, or planting them between more stiff plants. Mildew also can be a bit of a nuisance in places where it is a common problem; I never had it here however.

If the variety is close to the wild species, they can self seed, especially eager to grow on the building sand piles and alike, but many of the modern hybrids are sterile and won't set out to conquer the neighborhood. In case the self-seeding is desired, it is best to stop deadheading them somewhere in the autumn and leave the stems to overwinter, so they have a chance to spread their seeds around. Heavy raking of the soil in the beds where they grew previously usually diminishes the chances for the seeds to germinate, so it is either leave it mostly undisturbed... Or just buy new seeds for the new season and skip the hassle, especially since there are so many varieties to try. :)

Grandma with a bed of Cosmos

Meanwhile, indoors

We got a bit of sunshine yesterday - finally a really nice day to go for a proper, long walk around the village, to see what changed in the gardens! It still is rather wintery here, but snowdrops already appear out of the ground, and crocus probably are not far behind either. Some people did a bit of pruning, some old trees and shrubbery got cut down, but overall it seems that gardens are still drowsing in their winter lethargy. Not for long though, as the active February sun is waking up the earth and migrating birds already prepare for their trip homewards.

Meanwhile, the full blossoming mostly is happening on on the windowsills, with a wide selection of orchids, amaryllis and other indoor plants looking through the glass. I am happy to see that a typical Xmas plant, Euphorbia pulcherrima, finally is out of fashion, I never liked that one and it seemed to be a must-have in the winter season for decades. If you did not buy one, you usually ended up with someone gifting you the dreaded thing anyway, if not alive, then a fake imposter of it; not to mention that all of the tasteless and cheesy Xmas designs seem to incorporate it, adding to the insult.

I love amaryllis though. I remember it from when I was a kid, as the flower to give for the winter season birthdays. People called it "gramophone" back then, I suppose because it resembles an old phonograph a bit. My godfather's family used to grow them for sale, so some leftover bulbs often ended up at our place: amazing when in bloom, incredibly dull for the rest of the season, just like most bulbs. I do like an instant gardening approach to them, buy a bulb, let it bloom, dispose of it; however it is possible to properly grow them indoors. In that case, first thing is selecting a bulb. As with any bulb, everything what a plant is ready to give sits stored in the bulb, so the bigger and healthier it looks, the better it will perform. It is best to plant it in a spacious pot, preferably on a heavy side, because huge and heavy flowers can tilt a plastic pot quite easily over, resulting in an unnecessary mess. Also most of the time the flowers need some support, to prevent them from breaking from their weight. Any kind of light soil can do really, the finer the better and it has to be well draining, because amaryllis do not like to be waterlogged. Once planted they have to be watered till they bloom (i.e. normally watered, not drowned), when flowering is done, flower stalks should be cut down and the plant fertilized repeatedly while it grows its leaves. Fertilizing is very important at this point, because plainly speaking, it is feeding the bulb for the next year. The plants can even be put outdoors at some point, but there it is important to watch the water, because bulbs can rot very quickly in a rainy and cold spell. Somewhere in the summer the watering should gradually decrease to a stop, leaves have to be cut off and bulbs stored in a dry place, for at least 2-3 months, to have a "winter". After that they can be watered again and the whole cycle begins anew.

Another big windowsill favorite these days are orchids, their long lasting blooms being a sure delight for a few winter months. For the fancy flower that they are, they are fairly easy to care for, at least the most common kinds (typical Phalaenopsis for example). Usually they get planted in a mix of a tree bark, charcoal and moss, proportion being something around 3:1:1, in a transparent, well draining pot. Often they are sold in various glasses or glass vases, but apart of the visual appeal that sort of approach is not practical at all. The water cannot drain from the bottom of a glass or vase, making it a huge hassle to water orchid in such planter, and if they get waterlogged, their roots rot away. One of the easiest ways to pot them is to use a random plastic bucket (from a dog food for example, or a storage plastic bins), drill plenty of holes on the bottom (it is easy to make holes in a plastic with a hot rod), and here we go, custom size orchid planter.

Orchids love humidity and warmth, but in the winter that sort of conditions in a normal home usually are achievable only around the heaters, with a big problem of planting mix drying out too quickly. One of the solutions is to put some florist foam in the pot, to have a source of water and nutrients, or place a bowl with water in between the pots, so it can evaporate and moisturize the air a bit. Orchids generally love to be sprayed or misted, and can be fertilized through the leaves. When they need watering, the common approach is to submerge their pots into a bucket with water for about 30 min, so the bark in the pots gets properly soaked. This procedure has to be done 1-2 times a week, depending on how big the pots are and how fast they dry. Also since the last year I also bring my orchids outside for the summer, they seem to like a bit of a fresh air in a dappled shade (they do not like bright sun, neither at home, nor outdoors). I hang their pots among clematis, or in the trees, mimicking their natural growing conditions; while it is not the most decorative sight (at that point they are not in bloom), it seems to be beneficial for them in general. Of course it is important to watch for the frost, and bring orchids inside way before they are in danger; after all, they are tropical plants and our early springs and late autumns are simply too cold for them.

Black bird and a pear

Black bird female

I had an interesting observation lately. We usually have a few black birds around in the garden, squabbling for the territory, nibbling on the bird food, well, the usual. I leave some fruits laying about for them in the winter (the ones that kids do not finish usually end up there, and some other leftovers), although I also have seen them pick on the seeds at the feeder, same for the fat balls.

So, a few days back I left for them birds 2 whole winter pears on the ground. Yesterday I checked it and one pear was properly picked and the other one had not even a single bit of damage. Today the first one is gone and it seems only then they started picking on the second one. Smart birdies! It seams they are capable of realizing that a whole untouched fruit is going to stay longer on the ground than the damaged one, so the latter has to be eaten first.

It is almost a hellebore time

Hybrid hellebore

I can't remember how I got my first hellebore, years back in LT garden. Probably it was accidental or gardening magazine inspired buy, way before we started to look things up online. I did not see much of it blooming, because we hardly ever visited our garden so early in the spring, but I still liked the plant, with its lingering spent flowers sticking around for a couple of months.

Over here, in NL, I grew a few of them over the years, mostly impulse buys or gifted. A few years ago we found out about Hellebore days in the local plant nursery nearby, in Eenrum, which also expanded a collection a bit. They are not very easy to grow in the clay soils, but most plants that I have lost was due to the replanting rather than growing conditions or bad placement in general (full sun is not their favorite). It is still a plant I cannot imagine a garden without though, first to bloom in the spring, sometimes starting as early as Christmas (hence the name, Christmas rose).

Helleborus niger

The most common hellebore, available in many shops in the spring, is helleborus niger, with its typical white (sometimes pink) blossoms, dark stems and evergreen leaves. Originally it is a mountain plant, growing in the wild in Southern European mountain ranges. As it is the case with many other wild plants, it can be difficult to grow in the garden. It does not like too acid soils, nor clay, nor poor, dry conditions (unlike some other alpine plants) and it is not fond of full sun. It seems to do best in a dappled shade, with a "forest" soil: a sort of composty turf, preferably with rotten leaves mixed through, well drained, but not ash-dry. I moved mine this year to live under an apple tree, we will see how he responds to this. Hopefully it will do better than sulking in our front garden, where it bloomed rather ok, but slowly kept declining. It did self seed though, mostly in between the tiles, so I can imagine that it could form a rather big thicket if the conditions were more close to its nature home.

Helleborus argutifolius

One of my favorites is Helleborus argutifolius, aka Corsican hellebore. It is a big plant, forming about a 1 meter high mound of large spiky leaves, carried on stems, giving it somewhat a holly-ish appearance when it is not in bloom. It seems to like a bit of morning sun and dry sandy soil, with a bit of shade in the height of the summer; and it certainly enjoyed a sheltered position next to a warm wall. While it is supposedly hardy up to the z5 (something I am inclined to doubt), the blooms could get a frost damage if the temperatures spiked very low (happens here in end of January, beginning of February sometimes). Otherwise the flowers were lasting very long and it was one of the first hellebores to bloom in the garden.
Replanting it to a more shady spot did not seem to be very successful though, either it was not his favorite conditions, considering that originally it is a Mediterranean island plant, or it was too big plant at that point to be moved without the consequences of a replanting-shock. I am planning to try a dappled shade aspect with a young plant this year and place it in a more sheltered spot, where it is not exposed to the wind. Hopefully, I will have more success with it there, especially since it was a favorite early spring stop for the bumble bees.

Helleborus foetidus

Another distinct hellebore variety is Helleborus foetidus, aka stinking hellebore. As most of the other hellebores, it is evergreen and can grow up to 80cm tall/wide if it is happy; most plants I have seen around here however were smaller than that. The original species one has light green, bell shaped flowers, which appear early in the winter here; but there are some more special cultivars, with brighter green flowers, red tinted leaves, etc. Regardless the name, it is not particularly stinky, nor I have noticed any smell to speak off in general; in early spring bees seem to like it as much as they do other helleborus in the garden. It is said to like some dappled shade, but in a deeper shady aspect, where I had it planted, it was rather short-lived, declining rapidly after a few years of growing.

Apart of he species hellebores, there are many interspecies hybrids. One of the first were helleborus orientalis (which nowadays is considered to be Helleborus × hybridus) hybrids with a few related species, which hugely improved the color range of the flowers. There are many attractive cultivars these days, ranging from purple, almost black to pink and from white to yellow shades; and of course there all all those pretty doubles, which look really amazing in the garden.

Hybrid Hellebore

Many of these new hybrids are generally rather easy to care for, growing well in the similar conditions as the usual helleborus niger. Regarding their positioning in the garden design, black/dark purple flowers are very unusual and attractive, but they tend to "disappear" in the background of dark soil, so they look their best if there is some sort of white spring flowers planted to accompany them, or near some white garden features to make them stand out better.

Also an important thing to know when adding any kind of helleborus to the garden is that all of them are poisonous to some extent, and should not be digested by humans (aka kids) and pets. It is not a good plant to place around pet enclosures, or where the pets tend to hang around in the garden, places like backdoors, sunny benches and such. Roaming pets probably can tell the difference and generally leave it alone, but if it is the only plant in the garden, they might be tempted to at least taste it. In humans it usually just causes unpleasant symptoms, but even then it is better to take precautions than worry later, especially with the very small kids, who are too young to grasp the differences between various plants in the garden.

Wintery white garden

White polyantha rose

When I first heard about a white garden idea, it sounded cool and interesting and something that I would love to accomplish in own garden. Then I started thinking about it more practically and... I figured it has certain risks to turn out not how I would have expected it to be.

For starters, how do I avoid dullness, when copy pasting the same color all over again? It has to come with some other points of interest, like interesting foliage, different shapes of plants and possibly fragrances to increase the effect. In a nut shell, it means I would have to go for a variety of plants, but that also brings me to the next problem, seasons and growing preferences. White tulips like sun and bloom in spring, white astilbe blooms towards the autumn and likes shade, so that sort of combo probably won't work at all. In other words, if I screw up the planning, I can easily end up with a rather boring and mostly green garden, which occasionally features some white blooms. So, there we go, spring, summer or autumn white garden, shade or full sun? And I am not even going into a soil preferences yet. :)

And then there also is a thing with enjoying white garden in the night. In theory it could be impressive, with whites being most visible in the dark, but... for one I am sure mosquitoes would have a say in it as well, and then it also means this part of the garden should be reasonably close by, so I don't have to stumble all over the tomatoes or cabbages to go and have a glass of wine.

White pansies (violas)

Soo, all in all, I did not make a white garden, but I have quite a few white plants. For me it is more enjoyable to create a small white corner there and there, without committing to a big white plan. While spring usually means bulbs, I also find violas (pansies) to be extremely useful in adding some color (or white... which is also a color, sorta) to the garden in early spring. Over here in NL they become commonly available somewhere in February, and while they are at their best in spring, with a bit of (bad)luck and cold spring they last well into the summer. Some cultivars (especially the small bloom ones), also have a pleasant fragrance, so it is worth to follow your nose when selecting which ones of the bunch to bring home. For some more permanent solution there also are wild perennial species, such as Viola sororia 'Albiflora' for example, something I would love to add to the garden in the years to come.

White muscari

Then there are bulbs of course. For convenience in planning I usually sort them into "small early" and "tulips, narcissus and co", which bloom later in a season. First come snowdrops (even a few subspecies of them for more interest), later followed by white crocus and white muscari. There also are some rarer plants that I love, such as chionodoxa gigantea alba, which always makes me imagine that J.R.R. Tolkien's simbelmynë should look like that; or leucojum, looking like a giant snowdrop on steroids. We used to have the latter in an old garden, shamelessly nicked from an abandoned allotment, where it was growing happily in an unkempt garden turned a wild meadow.

All of these small jewels can form a lovely white corner in the garden: I remember passing an old orchard with whole ground under the trees covered by snowdrop carpet! Bulbs generally do well under the trees, as their vegetation is mostly over by the time the trees leaf out, so they are not affected by the shade or are adapted to it. Trees also tend to keep soil dryer, which is another bulby preference.

Tulip "Exotic Emperror"

Speaking of narcissus and tulips, there of course are numerous, numerous cultivars to choose from, single, full, frosted, rippled and what not else. I have grown a few, and from those few my absolute favorite was/is tulip Exotic Emperor. She has those beautiful unruly petals, which swirl in the odd angles like some silky robes. It is one of those plants that are really exciting to take photos of, because every bloom is slightly different. It is definitely not a dull white blob, like some other white flowers can feel at times.

Magnolia stellata

It also reminds me of another favorite plant, magnolia stellata, which has a similar shape of a blossom. I have a  love and disappointment affair with magnolias in general, the first one I got looong time ago in my LT garden, after reading some article in a gardening magazine, about a woman who was growing them in z5. I bought one from her, unfortunately after 10 or so years in the garden, it still has to produce a single bloom (although my mother said it finally started growing)!

I was swearing I will grow one here in NL, where hardiness is not an issue... and I never bought one. Thing is, while they are very spectacular in bloom, especially Magnolia × soulangeana, they are fairly dull as a tree for the rest of the year, and their blossoming is quite short lived. Besides, blooms can get ruined by the frost bite, making it quite unattractive that year, and apparently they litter the garden with their pods quite a bit (my sister-in-law's patio under one was a constant mess). Since I am not particularly fond of things dropping into my coffee, somewhere down the line I decided it is best enjoyed in the neighboring gardens, where you still get a show and don't have to deal with the mess.

Now, saying I did not buy one, does not cover a tiny magnolia stellata that was already growing in this garden, and it was one of the few plants I kept. Here in NL it grows to be a large shrub or a small tree, depending on how it was pruned,  and even though it is fairly dull for the rest of the year, it is glorious when it blooms. Mine is really small, as it took me years to figure that they need a full sun to thrive, but even this tiny plant managed to produce a few lovely blooms in some springs. Now when the sun preferences are sorted, I hope to see much more of it in the years to come. :)

Rose Aspirin

But lets leave the spring and move to the summer, when perennials and roses steal the show. I have a bit too big collection of roses to talk about all of them whites in one post, especially since they range from mini plants barely 50 cm high, to huge climbers reaching to 5 meters and higher. There is the old favorite Iceberg, probably one of the most well known roses in commerce. There is Mrs. Herbert Stevens and Sombreuil (formerly known as Colonial White), both big and fragrant climbers, and Paul's Lemon Pillar (almost white, with huge blooms) with Long John Silver (big rambler), and Madame Hardy with other old garden roses. And then there are numerous modern incarnations of white: shrubs, hybrid teas, floribundas, "English roses", minis and so on, of which I own only Tineke, so far a rather disappointing hybrid tea. White is a bit tricky color for the modern roses, because a lot of them are rather average plants vigor wise, and also they seem to be rather susceptible to rain damage(making the petals look spotted and meh). They easily can look dirty as well, if their blooms get spattered with the soil during a heavy shower.

Snow in summer (Cerastium tomentosum)

Speaking of other flowers in the garden, there are of course many white cultivars of most of the garden favorites: peonies, phloxes, malvas, irises, lilies and all sorts of other perennials and annuals. One of my favorite whites is snow-in-summer (Cerastium tomentosum), a useful creeping border plant, with silvery leaves and pretty white flowers in the beginning of the summer. It is very hardy, can't recall it ever being damaged in our cold LT winters, does not require much care, apart of puling it out from where it should not spread and dealing with the balding patches if it grew in the same place for a very long time. Weeds did not seem to like growing through it, so that's another big plus.

Sweet alyssum (Lobularia maritima)

Another edging plant I often add to the garden is sweet alyssum, the common annual. Sweet alyssum is somewhat a misleading name, because this annual actually does not belong to genus alyssum (although it was classified as such in the past), its correct name is Lobularia maritima. Originally coastal plant, from somewhere in Mediterranean, it can turn into a weed if growing conditions mimic its natural habitat, but it also can self seed and survive in much colder climates, particularly preferring to germinate in/on sand (which is great in the front of a mixed border, and less great between the tiles). Of course, since it is an annual plant, there is some hassle with it to create a nice trim around the edge of the border, you have to sow it and then care for it till it reaches a blooming size, but normally it germinates fairly well, "grows up" around midsummer and continues blooming well into autumn. If the autumn is very mild and winter late, as it often is the case here, it can last fairly long or even overwinter; it was still green in a pot I had it planted when I checked it in the end of January.

Silene

To think of it, other two of my favorite small border plants are also white: Iberis sempervirens and different varieties of white silene (such as silene vulgaris, silene latifolia, etc.). Iberis is another Mediterranean native, over here in NL it can be grown as a low groundcover sub-shrub, something in between a perennial and a shrub, similar to ericas. It is reasonably shade and drought tolerant, however it does not like water logged soils. Grows slow, difficult to divide, but lovely when blooming in spring, and rather attractive foliage plant for the rest of the season. Silene latifolia is native to most of Europe and part of Asia, and in some countries it is known as a grave flower, because in the wild it often grows in abandoned sites or graveyards; and that was how I encountered it first, when I was still a kid - growing on an abandoned grave next to the resting place of my great-grandfather (although I believe there it was planted intentionally). Silene vulgaris is considered an edible plant in Mediterranean, apparently used in soup, salads and other dishes of the local cuisine(especially popular in Crete it seems).

Hydrangea arborescens

Speaking of summer garden, I do like an idea of a wintery white garden in shade, especially because often it is the most problematic corner of the garden, and at the same time, it is the most nice corner to sit in a hot summer day. If I had to do it again, I probably would combine white rhododendrons, different kinds of hydrangea, mixed with astilbes and a few other perennials for some extra interest. There are many white hydrangeas available, starting with the climbing ones (Schizophragma hydrangeoides, Hydrangea petiolaris), which do really well on a North wall and have quite minimal demands for the light in general. I have seen many old established climbers here in the village ( and that usually indicates that it is a reliable, easy to grow plant). Another common white hydrangea is a wool-head Hydrangea arborescens, very hardy and forming quite a prominent shrub when established. Old flowers can also be very easily dried and used in winter flower arrangements. Spiky flower heads of Hydrangea paniculata are also useful for drying, and it grows a bit more tidy and upright, rather than forming a thicket like arborescens. Hydrangea quercifolia has a very lovely oak-leaf-like foliage, which turns very nice color in the autumn. Looking for something a bit smaller, there also are many white hybrids of Hydrangea macrophylla, including those very pretty double ones.

Astilbe "King Arthur"

Astilbe is another useful plant for more shady corners. I kept planting them in full sun and wondered why they sulk, before I saw them placed in a shade plants' corner in a garden center - that was a really useful enlightenment! They come in a wide range of red-pink-white color shades, and different heights, from 50cm to 1m 50cm. There also is a similar looking plant Aruncus, which grows to be much much bigger; an old one at our neighbors was about 2 m tall and 2 m wide.

There are of course numerous other perennials and bulbs, which can be added to a white shade garden, Lysimachia clethroides (white tails, gooseneck), or white vinca, or lamium album (white dead-nettle) for a ground cover, as well as white Japanese anemones, which also like some dappled shade. That, and a white clematis, different subspecies of which can provide a blooming season from March till late September.

And then, to finish the season, there are white colchicums and white asters, which combined with a white berry bushes (such as Symphoricarpos albus) keep up the prettiness in the garden until a gardening season wheel turns again.