shows

From the Philadelphia Flower Show 2005

During this down time of the year the weather isn’t good for gardening outdoors. The winter seems to be dragging on and yet there is still a couple months more to go. It’s the time that I start thinking of garden shows. I’ve never entered a garden show. I’m way too busy to get involved in that obsession, but I have friends that do them. I do enjoy going to them. It’s a great escape from the doldrums of winter, and it’s also a good way to get motivated for the coming season.

Sometimes it’s a good place to get design ideas, but design for a show can be oriented to plants that will show well, meaning that they are easily forced into bloom for a show, or can be grown to large size in a small container, and are relatively inexpensive to produce since forced plants often do not survive once the show is over. Plants that have broken dormancy in February will need spring light and temperatures, which is difficult enough for a small plant, and extraordinarily costly for a tree.

The displays are also just that: a display. It’s not a real garden, so plant combinations could be combinations that would never occur in a real garden: for a number of reasons. They could combine plants that have very different cultural requirements (dry and wet plants planted together, or shade and sun plants together), which works beautifully for a display that lasts a few weeks, but not for a long term garden.

The displays also don’t take into account seasonality. The displays are oriented toward spring, of course, and if you really did plant some of those designs in a garden, the other seasons may lack performance.

Still, it’s a fun and exciting thing. What gets me, sometimes, is when I have great garden ideas that someone else has also had, and has installed in a garden show. Such is the case of the “underwater” garden that I designed when I lived in Palm Springs, California in 1999. I was so enamored with the succulents and cacti that grow in the area, and the idea that they looked like coral, that I designed a garden that looked like a coral reef, the “fish” being hummingbirds that could be attracted with feeders or with plants that attracted hummingbirds such as Chuparosa. I never installed it.

In 2005 I went to the Philadelphia Flower Show, known as the oldest (and grandest) flower show in the country. This show, held at the convention center, was so large that we never saw all of it in the six hours or so we spent there. Mostly that was because my companions to the show got overwhelmed, and decided that enough was enough, despite my pleas to see the last several acres of displays and sales. I bought some Eremurus ‘Cleopatra’ instead (which has yet to bloom).

At one point I turned to see a display that was, as you might have guessed, a “coral reef” garden created from succulents and cacti. Hey! That’s MY idea! Well, of course it was theirs as well. Their design was much more “flower show” oriented, in that the design was much more elaborate and flashy than I had in mind, and really garnered attention. Fish sculpture were placed among the “corals” and the designers succumbed to the temptation of putting in such fishtank cheesiness as a treasure chest. The difference is like that of home cooking vs. restaurant food. Still, it was nice to see that the idea I had would really work. I guess that goes to show you: if you have a good idea, you’d better get it done before someone else does it.

winters

I’ve lived in a number of places: Philadelphia, Denver, San Francisco, LA, Palm Springs, and now Albuquerque. I've learned about the weather and seasons in each place very well. Each has very different winters.

In Philadelphia, fall begins right on-time in September, with classic autumn leaves, and a distinct change in the temperatures. You can count on winter settling in with crisp temperatures by late November, and really getting underway in December. Snow is a given, although more erratic in modern days than historically. I always thought of winter as beginning with the first snow, or when the color fades from the trees. The beginning of the end of winter is when the witch hazel blooms.

During the short period that I lived in Denver, I learned that winter comes in with a bang. In mid-September one day, it was a toasty 95 F. That night it snowed 8 inches. The leaves on the trees didn’t turn colors that year: they were frozen in their tracks. I don’t know if that happened every year. Although sunny and relatively comfortable (if dressed for it), the winter stayed from that night onward. Nothing blooms in the winter.

In San Francisco, winter begins when the morning fog ends and the rain starts. Some years, it seems like the clouds roll in and it rains off and on until spring. Although some people consider rain to be the end of summer and the beginning of fall, the first rain is when winter begins for me. The rain soaks into the dry earth, and although the temperatures are not very low, the moisture soaks through wool and fleece, to chill the skin until the warmth of spring sunshine begins. Winter is when the camellia bloom, and begins when the paperwhites bloom.

LA winters begin when the temperature drops, and the smog becomes less intense so the eyes don’t burn when stepping out of the house. Winter begins the first day that a sweater is worn, and it is downright cold when a jacket must be worn. Winter is when the aloe bloom.

Palm Springs winters begin about mid-November, and is the first day that the sun shades don’t have to be put under the windshield. The daytime temperatures are below 110, by night time the temperature drops 40 degrees, and it gets cool enough to require a jacket at night. The winter annuals get planted and the golf courses get sheared and overplanted, the dust from the golf course scalping makes the air brown and the nose twitch. Winter begins when plants break out of their summer heat-dormancy and start to grow again.

In Albuquerque, winter begins when the window frame in my shower is encrusted with white hoar frost in the morning. It begins when the late blooming plants have their blossoms frozen, and the borderline plants turn brown or turn to ice mush. This year, it was the Salvia farinacea, the Salvia chamaedryoides and the Rosemary that had their blue blossoms frozen, the geraniums and the Salvia Mystic Spires turned to brown twigs, and the Agapanthus turned to green mush. Winter begins when the Crocus speciosus and the Osmanthus heterophyllus blooms.

best

winter Echinocereus reichenbachii

In my last entry, I wrote about what I consider some of the best plants for winter in New Mexico. I looked primarily at the plants that provide something attractive for the winter garden, but considered the plant’s year round attributes as well. What is “best” anyway? If a plant performs incredibly in one area, but less well or even poorly in another area, does that disqualify it as a best plant? There are some plants that I enjoy in the winter, even if they aren’t the stellar performers of other plants, lacking the performance in the winter that others exceed in, or various other reasons. I wouldn’t use that as a reason not to include them in the garden. I call these plants the “also ran’s” or the “runner up’s”.

Echinocereus reichenbachii – this is such a cute little clumping cactus, with silky pink flowers for a week or two in the spring. In the winter the succulent stems diminish, so that they are barely seen as a dense tuft of spines above the ground. Although it is still attractive, the thing that makes it a runner up is that it is too small in the winter to contribute significantly to the landscape.

Cercocarpus breviflorus – although the late fall to early winter seedheads are glow in the sun, and these shrubs do well with no irrigation, the winter form lacks dynamism. The bare rugged branches are attractive enough, and I enjoy seeing the, but it doesn’t bring it out of the runner-up category.

Artemesia versicolor – this is such a great plant, it is a shame that it doesn’t perform through the winter. The finely laced silver leaves are never curly in my garden as they are in magazine pictures, even though I’ve tried various water regimens (the magazines say that to keep the leaves curly, be very sparing with the water, and believe me, I am sparing). In the winter, the plant develops some purplish tones. What keeps this plant from being a “best for winter” is that most of the leaves die and turn (silvery)brown, leaving just a tuft of silver at the tips of the stems. The plant holds on to the brown leaves, but if someone steps on it, or you pull fallen tree leaves out of it, the dead leaves come out too, leaving a bunch of twigs with scraggly silver tips.

Juniperus monosperma – Although this juniper has great fall berries (female plants only), I’m not very fond of the yellow-green winter color. It looks just a bit sickly to me. It looks better when backed by the dark green of Pinyon pines.

Cotoneaster – I suppose this genus really should be in the “best” list. After all, it’s a tough plant with colorful winter berries, and some keep their leaves. The ones that don’t make the “best” list are C. dammeri, with red berries, yes, but with a very scraggly habit and C. buxifolius, the grey cotoneaster, but I suspect that it’s horrid growing (i.e. pruning) practices that I see, that I’m opposed to. Cotoneaster’s tough nature makes it amenable to use in a lot of commercial plantings, which of course, means that it is tortured into ugliness, and suffers from commonness. Try not to hold it against this plant, but use it appropriately.

Two plants that I forgot in the “best list”:
Juniperus chinensis – needs no introduction, but with similar criticisms as cotoneaster: its ability to withstand torture means that it is used everywhere, and tortured everywhere. Some varieties turn brown in the winter.

Penstemon clutei – the tough blue-green leaves develop red tints at the tips. This great color could be picked up by the same color in Eriogonum umbellatum. Of course the glowing pink blooms that recur for a long season make it a great plant also, but that’s not a winter thing.
Penstemon clutei in winter

plants

It’s time to stop moaning about the weather and get back to the plants. After all, in adversity, there is opportunity, and the opportunity here is that January is the beginning, really, of winter. It usually takes me a few weeks (at least) to appreciate winter. Although I would love to be able to garden outdoors throughout the year, there are benefits to being denied that wish. After all, it is said that there are two great disappointments in life. Not getting what you want. And getting what you want.

Right now, in the dead of winter, there isn’t much to do in the garden but plan for the coming year and, most importantly, appreciate what is there right now. It is the time to view the bones of the garden, rather than the pretty flashes of color that make for individual spots of beauty, but don’t make a garden by themselves. All those nice plants make a collection, not a garden. That being said, I am first an foremost, a plant person, so I've got to make that collection a garden somehow.

It's time to recognize the plants that are the hardest workers of the garden. Which plants give you the garden’s winter beauty? These plants not only give you winter's structure, but the garden’s year-round structure. Even in this southern latitude, winter lasts from November to March, which can be five months of misery or five months of delight. I’d rather have delight. So here's my list. I’m noticing that there are a large number of Mediterranean plants, but you know I'm biased in that regard.

Opuntia ‘Santa Rita’ – turns a great red-purple in the winter, and this color lasts in the summer if heat and water stressed (but stress slows growth).

Juniperus scopulorum ‘Wichita Blue’ – is a beautiful glowing silvery blue all year when established. The color fades after a couple of years on old growth, so the color may fade while the plant is getting established and putting out roots instead of colorful young new shoots. I used to hate junipers, but I realized that it's not the junipers that I hate but what's done to them. Please give them enough room to grow, so you won't have to prune them. Then they can show you their inherent beauty rather than those disgusting gum drops.

Origanum dictamnus – the Dittany of Crete keeps the reddish purple color of the bracts through early winter, and the dime-sized and shaped fuzzy silvery leaves are beautiful all year.

Lavandula – most people plant lavender just for the flowers, but the leaves, which vary in silvery intensity, retain their structure throughout the winter. 'Provence', 'Hidcote' and 'Grosso' are in my garden, and they are very common cultivars. There's a reason for that. They are just good. But lesser known lavenders are worth collecting. I'm thinking of taking out my back garden, and having a garden just of lavender and rosemary. I want to plant L. 'Sleeping Beauty' at the office, so that the soporific effect of the heavy fragrance will relax people as they come in.

Rosmarinus – you’d think I’d get tired of singing rosemary’s praises, but it’s such a great plant. The only drawback is the burnt leaf tips that can occur, especially if planting a marginal variety (prostrate forms tend to be even more tender), or if planting against a wall that heats up a lot during the winter, then plunges into ice at night. Even 'Arp' had leaf tip burn against my west wall.

Euphorbia characias – although this can look a little droopy after a big snow, as the plants get bigger they tolerate it better. My favorite so far: Red Martin, which has a reddish tint to the leaves in the winter, overlying the dark olive green. Even better is the compact and uniform structure, forming a nice mound. 'Red Martin' has the same vibrant green bracts in late winter as the species, but seems to take a lot longer to get going. It eventually produces a big bract like a firework that lasts longer than the species. I'm reluctant to include E. myrsinites, for although it retains blue leaves in perfection through the winter, the snakey form of the stems looks scraggly to me. Many people love it though, so who am I to criticize?

Euphorbia 'Redwing' in winter

Salvia officinalis – the culinary sage probably needs no introduction. I love the dusky purple that the purpurascens group achieves in the winter. It's mysterious and ghostly, and does all the sneaky things that dark purple with grey does. It can look a little beaten in the winter, but I'm willing to overlook that for the incomparable color.

Salvia pachyphylla – remarkably hardy for a California desert sage. I love the silver spathe-like leaves so much that I almost want to cut off the strikingly big and bright red-purple bracts with cobalt blue flowers. The colors are garish to my eye, but everyone comments on how beautiful it is.

Fallugia paradoxa – not all plants best for winter are evergreen. The native apache plume can seed itself a little too vigorously in small yards, but the white yearling stems stand out against dark backgrounds. It also needs no irrigation whatsoever. The seedlings are very easy to remove. This is one of those signature plants for my area, and some people can dislike it for its commonness. I think it's like Agapanthus in California - people like it when they can't have it.

Trachycarpus – I bet I’ll get some screaming for this one, but I love this palm tree in my courtyard for its bit of shock. It’s even beautiful ensheathed with ice, as I discovered last year. It survived that rudeness with a bit of leaf tip browning. It's this plant plus the Italian cypress that gives my courtyard that cliche mediterranean feel. But my French neighbor says the courtyard feels like home to her.

Eriogonum umbellatum – the native sulfur buckwheat is generally planted for the yellow spring flowers, but I honestly like the red winter color better (as you know, I'm not a fan of yellow). The red leaf color lasts all winter and the color of my plants reminds me of a tasty pinot noir. Buy the seedlings in the winter so you can pick the best of the colors (I like the seed grown plants at Agua Fria). Be aware that flower quality may vary, but who cares about the week or two of flowers when you can have months of sumptuous leaf color. Give the leaves a contrasting color to play off of, like the plant below in silver blue, or if you must, Euphorbia myrsinites.
winter Eriogonum unbellatum in my garden

Penstemon linarioides – this is another one that you’d think I get tired of talking about. I love the mats of green-to-silver leaves (depending on the seedling, collection location, or cultivar – the cutting grown plants from High Country Gardens have silvery blue leaves in winter). I have one plant from Plants of the Southwest that turns reddish in winter, almost the same color as the Eriogonum umbellatum.

Yucca – you can’t beat the strong year-round structure of any one of these plants. Although my neighbor planted what I’m guessing is Yucca elephantipes this year in her front yard – it’s now the color of straw, which is not what you want your Yucca to look like. Another neighbor has planted Yucca filifera, which is a tree yucca that has grown from two to five feet in the last few years. It’s gorgeous and much hardier than the books suggest. Yucca baccata, Y. glauca, are basics for the Albuquerque garden. Y. thompsoniana (the short-leafed, slow growing tree yucca) and Y. elata (the tall, long-leaved, fast growing state flower) should need no introduction.

Rhus trilobata – the coarse bare branches are attractive in the winter, hung by the catkins that will become berries by summer. I use prunings in an empty pot as a giant bouquet. Lit from below at night (it's under the eaves, so not disturbing the night sky), it's striking. This plant has true year-round attractiveness, even if it doesn’t have pretty flowers, and the berries too few to be seen from a distance (that said, some plants in the wild are covered with berries, not those that I've seen around town). Just be sure to put in a place where it can spread to its potential of 8-12 feet (don’t ask me how I know this).

Chilopsis linearis – the ubiquitous desert willow has wonderful twisted trunks, though most people focus on the summer flowers. Too bad the leaves drop in an ungainly manner in the fall. No matter - the summer and winter qualities are delightful. My friend Rick likes the seedless cultivar, and I must say that the ones he's planted have wonderfully tortuous trunks that are muscularly tactile.

Pinus edulis – you can’t leave out the Pinyon pine, which I think, is the essence of New Mexico. The dark green needles are most appreciated in the winter, although attractive year round, and invaluable as a background for many plants and flowers. If the bark beetles get it, the bare braches of the dead trees are sculptural while they last, and I love seeing the cute little seedlings growing up among the dead limbs.

Ephedra sp. How could I have forgotten the Ephedra? Because these tough plants look essentially the same year-round, they are easy to overlook. Green to blue leafless stems, and nearly insignificant flowers, these plants are nearly indestructible. In my friend's garden, they form attractive mounds that are great on their own or as backgrounds for Claret cup cactus.

I’m sure I’ve forgotten some great plants. Give me a shout with your favorite winter delights for New Mexico.