So melt, already!

Thank goodness the latest nor’easter missed Massachusetts. There’s still snow on the ground, though. I’m itching to get outside and start spring gardening, but this snow is holding me up.

Snow still hanging around earlier this week

    Kevin Newman and his arborist team came by Wednesday to prune broken branches out of a white pine near the house. They’re working flat out after three storms this month that have brought down trees and countless limbs. Luckily they managed to squeeze in my small job at the end of the day. They ran the pine branches through the chipper and left a big pile of wood chips in the driveway, as I’d requested. 

Wood chips!

This should be just the right time for spreading those chips on paths and around trees and shrubs as mulch. But I can’t do it until the snow melts and the ground dries out a bit. I don’t want to compact the wet soil by tramping over it with a wheelbarrow.

    It’s also the right time to prune shrubs before the leaves show. 

Without leaves you can see what you're pruning

I did some pruning during a warm spell in February and filled up the garage with yard waste bags. I have new tools I’m dying to try, ratchet pruners and loppers. My wrist fracture has healed, but my grip strength hasn’t returned yet. These tools should allow me to make pruning cuts with less effort, if only I can get out there and try them. 

Adaptive pruning tools require less strength

    It’s traditional to plant peas around St. Patrick’s Day. I’d like to get the seeds into the ground by early April. They enjoy cool weather, as do lettuce and arugula. I want to sow a first row of greens soon. Let’s hope the snow on the vegetable bed melts within a couple of weeks.

    Last fall I optimistically planted a lot of spring-blooming bulbs in one large pot. I’d read you could set several levels of bulbs in the same container. There’s a layer of tulip bulbs at the bottom, with daffodils in the next layer and grape hyacinths above them. The pot has been in the cool basement, covered with wire screening to keep out hungry mice with a taste for tulip bulbs. Now hopeful sprouts are pushing at the screen. 

Potted bulbs need to get outside

I should be moving the pot outdoors, but I’m afraid the weather is too cold. I may have to move it inside and out as the temperature fluctuates. To bloom well, the plants should be outdoors.

    And what about all the seedlings that are sprouting under lights? Eventually I’ll need to move them too outside to get them used to sunlight. Will spring have arrived by then?

Borage and basil will need to move outside

    Outdoors the stalwart snowdrops and witch hazel flowers keep blooming. They have proteins in their cells that act as antifreeze. When the snow melts, the still-fresh flowers emerge unharmed. I wish snow had as little effect on me. 

Snowdrops unfazed by a foot of snow last week

 

Let it snow

As we huddled inside during last week’s single-digit temperatures, I found one silver lining. The snow that fell in December was still on the ground, insulating my trees and shrubs from the worst of the cold winds. Thursday’s snow storm added more protection. Snow is good news for gardens when the weather is at its coldest.

Snow shields the garden from cold damage

    I’m particularly grateful for the blanket of snow this year, because during the summer and fall I went on a planting binge. In April I planted a replacement American persimmon (Diospyros virginiana). In June there was a blue juniper (Juniperus squamata), a yellow-flowering shrub rose (Rose ‘Kolorscape Lemon’), and a fragrant sumac (Rhus aromatica ‘Gro-Low’) for a new bed. 

Blue juniper settling in

Around the same time, I planted a spicebush (Lindera benzoin), an elderberry (Sambucus canadensis) and an eastern sweetshrub (Calycanthus floridus), native shrubs to fill in the spaces opened up when I cut down hemlocks. For the same spots, at a sale I scooped up a mountain laurel (Kalmia latifolia), a dwarf Alberta spruce (Picea glauca ‘Conica’), two inkberries (Ilex glabra), and an eastern white cedar (Thuja occidentalis) with the promising brand name ‘North Pole.’ 

Preparing 'North Pole' for winter with some extra watering

    In early October, I added a semi-dwarf Asian pear (Pyrus pyrifolia) and two honeyberries (Lonicera caerulea). By December, these new trees and shrubs were just recovering from transplant shock and, I hope, sending out some new roots. This winter poses the first severe test of their resilience.

This bare stick could grow into a 15-foot Asian pear, if it survives the winter

    Readers may recall that I planted my first persimmon in April 2016 before that summer’s severe drought. It didn’t survive. That makes me extra conscious that newly planted trees are vulnerable. Will this band of newcomers make it through to spring? With more than a foot of snow on the ground, their chances are better.

Second try at an American persimmon

    Temperate zone plants such as my new choices go dormant during the winter. Lengthening nights start the process in autumn, and falling temperatures trigger further readiness. Nutrients are stored in roots, leaves drop, and tissues revise their contents, replacing water with sugars and other chemicals that act as antifreeze so that ice won’t burst cell walls. 

     By this time of year, trees and shrubs have completed the processes that create endo-dormancy, a state of reduced metabolism that allows them to stay alive and save their resources for spring. When they reach a required chilling duration, they’re ready to switch to eco-dormancy. In this state of readiness, they’re able to respond to environmental conditions by opening buds and sending out leaves and flowers.

    During both of these stages, snow acts like a down jacket, its air spaces holding warmth in the ground. Under the snow, roots respire and even grow a little.

    Conifers and broadleaf evergreens like my new mountain laurel have a stern challenge in winter, because their foliage continues to lose water to drying winds.

Leaves held through the winter are vulnerable to cold winds

That’s why you’ll often see brown leaves on rhododendron branches in spring. Snow cover helps protect evergreens from desiccation. Snow may be a nuisance on paved surfaces, but in the garden, it’s a blessing.

Flowers open in April thanks to January snow

 

What Not To Wear, for shrubs

I can still remember my first down parka. Back then we were suffering through winter in uncomfortable wool coats. During the energy crisis of the seventies, I was walking to class early mornings in Cleveland. I was cold!

    A friend steered me to a new kind of coat, sold at a wilderness outfitter. I tried one on when I came home to Boston for the holidays. It was huge, dull blue-gray, and gloriously warm. The maker had dubbed it, “The Yeti.” 

A friendly Yeti

It wasn’t flattering, but that parka changed my winter experience.

     My neighborhood is dotted with swaddled shrubs, apparently wrapped up by soft-hearted owners who are trying to keep away the cold. But unlike me, plants don’t need the Yeti when temperatures are cold. 

Nice thought, but not necessary

     Plants don’t hold in warmth like us warm-blooded mammals. There are two putative reasons why wrapping shrubs could make sense. First, a windbreak can prevent loss of moisture. Desiccation is particularly a problem for plants that hold their leaves through the winter, such as the rhododendrons, Japanese andromedas, and mountain laurels that are so common in foundation plantings around town. 

Challenged by dry winter air

Second, support from wrapping the shrubs and tying them up with twine might prevent branches from being bent down by snow.

Heavy snow may bend shrubs temporarily

     My first objection to this practice is aesthetic. Why plant ornamental shrubs and then cover them in ugly wrappings for four or five months of the year? It seems to defeat the whole purpose of choosing broad-leafed evergreens. The reason we plant these shrubs with such monotonous consistency is precisely because they lend a bit of green and a sense of life to the winter landscape.

Why?

     On a more practical level, the wrappings don’t really help the shrubs much. The plants have evolved to deal with dry winter air, and branches that bend in the snow gradually resume their upright position in spring. 

Better looking, but still not necessary

Rather than wrapping, the better approach is to plant in the right place. A rhododendron likes a sheltered woodland spot with acid soil, not a windswept steppe of lawn where is has no cover from arctic winds. 

Rhododendrons prefer shade and shelter

     If the plants go into the winter with plenty of water, they’ll be able to hold on through the season despite the cold, drying air. 

     Last summer’s drought was very tough on our shrubs and trees. Despite recent rain and snow, we’re still way behind. Logan Airport recorded 33 inches of rainfall in the Boston area in 2016, compared to the annual average of 44 inches.
 
     The dry conditions took their toll. I notice dead branches on my own shrubs and some neighborhood evergreens that have finally turned completely brown, succumbing to long-term water deprivation.

 

Drought casualties

Perennials are tucked away underground at this season, storing everything they need for next year in their roots. Evergreen shrubs, on the other hand, have to keep their leaves and needles alive year round. Instead of winter coats, they should get priority for fall watering to help them stay hydrated through the winter.