Hollow Garden

Ostrich Ferns by creek

It’s chartreuse in the hollow, all yellow-golden green. The frogs sing in the evenings and the creek gurgles just as it did when I first came here many years ago. Since then we’ve known seasons so dry there was nary a sound, so we rejoice in a prolonged, cool, wet season with sounds of splashing all around.

Tomatoes not in ground yet, nor have sunflower, cleome or zinnia seeds been sown. This is a good year for the lazy gardener as it’s still so cool. They say the 17-year cicadas won’t hatch out until the soil temp is 64 degrees. Have had a great spinach and lettuce/greens crop and the strawberries are just starting to fruit. So full of water, the rain has been good for them.

The Ostrich ferns (Matteuccia struthiopteris) are particularly nice, very high this year, at least 4 feet. They spread beneath the walnuts and the old autumn olives, never bothered by the deer and with nice brown fronds over winter.

‘Little Gems’ in last snow

Drip, drip, drip. Our third snow has melted. This coming spring will be a wet one and those of us who remember the last drought appreciate mud. This is a good thing. It means we have moisture deep in the soil and plants will not be stressed coming into the growing season.

The only real downside is that you can’t dig and muck about when it’s wet because you’ll destroy the structure of the soil, smooshing all the air out of the pockets between the particles. It will turn to goop and not recover well. So don’t do it. Resist the urge to tramp around on bare soil especially out in the vegetable garden or to dig planting holes until the soil drys out to a crumbly – not sticky – texture.

While you’re waiting for the winds of March to do their work, you can start clearing all the fallen trees and branches that are littering the landscape. With last summer’s derecho wind storm and the last two heavy snows, there’s more bio-mass on the ground than I remember seeing before. With soil moisture high, many trees just tipped right over and giant saucers of roots dot the hills and roadsides.

Giant Tattershall white oak rootball

Fortunately here in the hollow we don’t have anything as big as our neighbors a few miles away, though we do have a couple of small trees that tipped out and quite a few large trunks and branches on the ground. The walnut, hickory, black cherry and tulip poplar will be good for firewood after it seasons. We’ll use twiggy branches to layer along the steepest sides of the creek where erosion is worst to catch more organic debris to build up the banks over time.

The rest we’ll burn. I expect it’ll be a season of bonfires all through the countryside this year as people try to deal with all this wood!

Hollow Bonfire

Honeysuckle Bush (Lonicera fragrantissima)

With extreme variations in the jet stream alternating the arctic with the balmy, it’s a wonder how few flowering plants seem to be early this year. Everything seems pretty much right on time.

Honeysuckle bush opened mid-month. I smelled it a few days ago as the sun went down, temps in the 50’s. The little snowdrops have been up, with fresh patches every day. They’re very nice with the dark green inkberries in a moist shady spot.

Snowdrops

The hybrid witchhazel ‘Diane’  has been blooming for a month now, still in her glory, shimmering in the setting sun, a fortuitous placement outside my office window.

The common Lenten rose, Helleborus niger, is making growth. I can see the appeal of the hybrids, as these seedling grown ones are a bit coarse for me, but their total deer-resistance, longevity, and shady habitat make all hellebores a must-have for the woodland and/or country garden. Do check out the hybrids. The ‘Pine Knot Strain’ is popular with single and double blooms ranging through shades of purple some with white picotee, meaning edged in white.

But the latest to bloom here in the hollow is ‘February Gold’, a fragrant cyclamineus daffodil (with swept-back reflexed petals) known for its extremely early flowering. Right on time.

Narcissus ‘February Gold’

Camellia japonica in April

Even in the icy heart of winter flowers bloom. Look for my upcoming column on Camellias in the February C-ville Abode www.c-ville.com .

Winter Hellebores

Hellebores are showing their leathery stamina now. I understand why some people dislike the common orientalis and niger varieties in all their coarse fecundity. But they’ll freeze right down to the ground and thaw out like troopers. Many new hybrids have showier flowers and the deer don’t eat them so what’s not to like? Always consult Cole Burrell on Hellebores.

This morning in the biting sunny cold I walked through the east Pavilion gardens at the University, beautifully maintained with magnificent American hollies, magnolias, and  boxwood. Many flitting birds and fat squirrels among the shrubbery (hawks have been spied on grounds) which is faithful to native plants with attention to Jefferson’s preferences, although he did not leave any specific ornamental plan for the spaces inside the serpentine walls he designed.

The lower garden of Pavilion VI, with the ancient spire from Oxford’s Merton College in the center, has a thick old patch of Hellebores in the far corner. I visit it for the varied collection of early spring bulbs, but nary a one was in sight on this cold winter morning.

No need to worry if bulb foliage gets frozen. Most bulbs are native to the Mediterranean and Asia and are genetically wired to withstand low temperatures. If a sudden freeze threatens early flowers, pick them for the house.

Hamamelis x intermedia ‘Diane’

At home our witchhazel ‘Diane’ came into bloom last week, bursting forth in her full ruby glory outside my office window. When the sun sets behind her she glimmers in a fuzzy halo of pink. The occasional crinkled coppery leaves are a counterpoint in texture and color. She freezes just fine.

January Sky

Nature paints her canvas with clouds.

Cirrocumulus, Cirrus, and Altostratus layer the sky looking south from one of the high points of the hollow. Gavin Pretor-Pinney’s The Cloudspotter’s Guide, The Science, History and Culture of Clouds is teaching me as I re-read it over the years how to look at the sky.

It’s changing all the time and its face is open for all who will look up to see.

January in the Garden – Cleaned up the asparagus patch and all the old marigolds in the upper bed with a nice little bonfire the other evening. Will rake out the nitrogen ash and add more wood ashes for March peas. The rest of the winter wood ashes will go on the lilacs and boxwood. We’re abandoning the old compost heap (too far away and overtaken by walnut trees) and beginning to sheet compost inside the vegetable garden fence. Planted about 150 tulips just after the first of the year mostly the lovely classic white ‘Maureen’. (November would have been ideal but if bulbs are firm and healthy, get them in the ground no matter how late.) If you can protect them from deer, tulips are wonderful for cutting. They supplement John’s flowers up at Carr’s Hill since we’re about two weeks behind the city out here in the hollow.

Christmas Eve Dusting

We’re having a white Christmas after all.

12/26 – More ice than snow, the slow moisture is welcome this dry season, but this is bad weather nonetheless: dangerous to walk or God forbid drive and heavy branches droop to the snapping point. The witchhazel is splayed open outside the window and all the boxwoods are frozen. Night comes on. I pity the animals who must endure it. Surely all the people are inside somewhere.

We had a flicker of the lights earlier this afternoon and prudently filled the bathtub with water which usually inoculates us from a power outage. John has a 5 gallon water jug and various containers filled with water in reserve in the outdoor closet.

Friends in town worry about us when we lose electricity but I think we fare better than a lot of  urban people who are totally dependent on it. We can cook with gas and have a wood stove, can haul water from the cistern across the creek when we have to. During the summer derecho when we were without power that whole hot, hot week, we could still douse ourselves in the evening with watering cans and buckets out in the grass. We can pee outside, too, if water becomes scarce for flushing, which is a great advantage.

12/27 – A lot of melt today, a pine branch down on the drive from the ice, but no damage. The creek is running happily and the front gravel walk is slushy. It was good to see blue sky.

12/28 – Saw ice on the hills driving home south from Charlottesville this afternoon. More precip forecasted – ice or snow or sleety rain. The land drinks up the moisture, the eaves drip but I believe we’re still technically in a drought.

We will see what the new year brings.

Viburnum utile ‘Eskimo’ – October

The last of the sugars are trapped within the leaves of ‘Eskimo’ viburnum as chlorophyll fades with summer and systems shut down for leaf-drop, next spring’s flower firmly nestled in bud. This lovely cultivar of the service viburnum has welcome fragrant pom-poms in early spring. Placed outside a northeast window its branches display a twiggy aery for birds as they pick off the shiny black berries.

Raisinettes for the birds.

Blue jays have been busy for weeks, cawing and jawing as they flit through the trees and brush from beech to, I must confess, the invasive autumn olive, on to native alder to goldenrod to aster and sunflowers, picking avidly through the seeds. This is the ripe time for all – titmice, wrens, redbirds and woodpeckers, the deer and turkey, muskrats, mice and foxes. So many hickory and beech nuts and acorns to devour as soon as they can, before real want comes with winter.

We live in peace and plenty here in the hollow amid all the beauty nature allows. Our spring flows, our plants fruit. Thank God for our good fortune.

Hollow beech smolders.

Last Day of Summer, Nags Head, NC

We were holding hands on the beach at Nags Head for the Autumn Equinox as the season began in the Northern hemisphere when the sun shone straight over the equator back on the 22nd and everywhere day and night were (more or less) the same length.

The sun is at a lower angle now, light is softer and more mellow. Late season annuals shine: amazingly fragrant old ‘Gleam’ nasturtium; sunflower ‘Vanilla Ice’ with pale frilly blooms just right for cutting; globe amaranth still vivid purple and heathery pink; the stalwart single marigold that continues to feed butterflies and hummingbirds.

To my shame I have no zinnias, nicotiana or cleome this year but resolve to grow them each summer forever after as they are also deer tolerant and would see me through to frost.

‘Vanilla Ice’ Sunflower and ‘Gleam’ Nasturtium

The cherry tomatoes are gone but Yellow Brandywine is ripening from green picked fruit that I lay on newspaper on the counter and there’s still an occasional Purple Cherokee. Soon it will be time to weed the garlic chives out of the strawberries and transplant the runners out of the path.

Zsa Zsa Walks the Line

Zsa Zsa, cactus, and marigold.

Our new kitten, Zsa Zsa, is settling in as new cat in the hollow. We plucked her from a porch just over the county line last June when she was 8 weeks old, weaving her way in and out of the paws of assorted dogs and eating out of common dishes. She’s not afraid of anything and has a calm demeanor. She’s not a needy cat, just the kind to win my heart – a diamond among stones, a seal point Siamese out of Nelson County.  Here in Albemarle she is becoming mistress of her domain, pestering the aging Milo (going on for 11) and generally giving some life to the place.

We head out as usual this time of year for the Outer Banks of North Carolina and south Nag’s Head, leaving behind the old garden of summer. Always love to toast the autumn equinox at the edge of the tide. And tackle the hollow garden when we come back, tilting toward fall.

This summer star tomatoes have been heirlooms ‘Mortgage Lifter’, ‘Cherokee Purple’, and the golden cherry tomato ‘Sunburst’. In spite of foliar disease, they push out the fruit.

The single marigolds in the half barrels host hummingbirds, swallowtail butterflies and assorted pollinators throughout the day. They come up from seed every year and I can’t remember where I got them!

Planted with peppermint and spearmint, the deer have left these smelly plants alone.