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Gardeners and their Gardens

I am so tired of grey, dreary skies, frigid temperatures and biting winds  And snow, so much snow covering every inch of the yard!  I’m sick of being trapped indoors by slick sidewalks and icy roads. I desperately need spring to get here so I can dig in the garden. To counteract my descent into the winter blahs, I’ve done what every serious gardener does this time of year. I've been intently studying my collection of favorite catalogs, magazines and websites for new ideas to instantly transform my landscape this spring.

My “outdoorsman” son-in-law asked for a book on foraging for Christmas. Since my perception of foraging is tramping through the woods looking for either mushrooms or other obscure, supposedly edible plants, I didn’t really give much thought to the book. Until today, that is, while I was reading an article about the top new landscape design ideas for 2025. There it was… number 2 on the list: Hunt-and-Gather Foraging Gardens:  A Feast for All Ages.  Now I wish I had at least leafed through that guide.

Each of my children has a fiercely competitive streak that seems to reach its absolute zenith  at Christmas time. They good-naturedly battle over who has the best decorated tree, the most beautifully wrapped gift, the tastiest appetizer at Christmas Eve dinner. This year they added outdoor decorations – specifically winter themed pots  –  to the competition. Since they all consider themselves to be the “winner,”  they decided they needed an impartial judge – so they chose me because, in their words, “I write about that stuff.”  While it’s true that I do periodically feature design aspects in these blogs, the truth is that I do not have one artistic bone in my body! What appears to be expertise in design is simply a recitation of what Jo Ann Prieto, Embassy’s seasonal color specialist, has taught me over the years.

The shopping season is in full swing here. Like so many of you, I have been immersed in finding perfect gift choices – mainly though, for the grandkids. I’ve spent hours upon hours combing through all sorts of catalogs and websites and stores trying to come up with gifts that they not only like, but will also spark their imagination, curiosity and creativity long past Christmas morning. More than once, I’ve wished I could find  lists of great ideas all in one place!

I overestimated the number of spring-blooming bulbs I could plant this year. (Well, to be totally honest how many bulbs my husband could plant for me.) We planted what we could, gave away some and put the rest in a box to “deal with later.” Stumbling across them yesterday, I decided that this was the perfect opportunity to learn how to successfully force bulbs into bloom so that I can enjoy bursts of color and fragrance in the dead of winter. 

While cliff golden rods and rough blazing stars are vying for attention in my front garden, my third, and unexpectedly new fall favorite, quietly fills a shady corner of my backyard with tall stems covered in soft rose-purple flowers. At a first, quick glance, the plants could be snapdragons revived after the heat of summer or digitalis giving one last burst of color, but a closer look reveals an entirely different plant, rose turtlehead, or more precisely Chelone oblique.   It’s a plant whose blossoms bring to mind dozens of small turtles raising their heads to see if anyone is looking for them and whose name recalls a long-ago story. 

I love bright yellow flowers in a fall garden. Against a vivid blue autumn sky, they give off an incredibly cheerful vibe, marking a positive, happy end to another growing season. It’s like they revive my enthusiasm at a time when it’s so much easier to avoid fall gardening tasks. This year, Cliff Goldenrod has been my spark of sun and burst of energy in the fall landscape.

I know I’m in the minority, but I’m just not a fan of mums anymore. They're great for huge swaths of  temporary color especially in commercial properties, but I'll pass in my own front yard.  I think it’s simply a case of being tired of being tired of planting essentially the same plant year after year, only in a different color or size. I've also noticed that I am veering away from the precise, formal plantings that are typical of beds of mums. Instead, I am beginning to prefer a much more casual, natural look with its unusual twists and its unexpected delights.