Just as soon as the dust has settled from the frenzy of December 25 and even before all of the gifts we’ve been given have found a permanent place in our homes (and gardens!) and hearts we have the fresh start of a new year to consider and plan. Some people (are you one?) make New Year’s Resolutions. Personally, I try not to make resolutions because I have few reserves of resolve at this time of year and a half-hearted resolution now, for me is a waste of perfectly good guilty feelings later.

Gardenally, I think turn of the year motivational decisions are different creatures altogether. Unlike standard New Year’s Resolutions that are often born from regrets and soon forgotten or discarded in a heap of self loathing, garden intentions grow out of hope and desire. They are self-fulfilling and don’t have the odious chore-like feel of resolutions – it’s just what we do! We start fresh. We take what we already have and are determined to do it better; make it better, prettier, and more enjoyable some way or other. We give our-gardener-selves deadline-free rein to dream and create and decide, undecide. Whether a little or a lot, we will follow-through and feel proud (sometimes secretly) of whatever we manage to accomplish. And I think as gardeners we tend to be more realistic about what we can do/want to do and are easier on ourselves when our dreams overshoot our abilities. Carol at May Dreams Gardens offers a guide for setting some garden “goals” – a way to organize the buzz in our heads of everything we desire for our gardens in the coming season. Does the New Year spur you to make resolutions, set goals or intentions for your garden? Are you easier on your garden than you are on yourself?

The Christmas snow melt revealed one of Fred and Dan’s 2008 best garden intentions – before the ground froze they had begun forging ahead on the Display Garden redesign. This past year they had the advantage of a weirdly warm early January to resod the area around the cement pond and they cut the new beds on the north side of the garden over the spring. This year, they intend to re-do the south side Idea Beds, move the nursery (along with a bunch of other projects on the grounds). And just like in any home garden, they are at the mercy of the weather, constrained by time and limited by budget – those are realities that keep us gardeners pragmatic. Gail and I, with the volunteers’ help intend to plant up and beautifully maintain what the guys are able to give us. — Whatever we do in all the gardens, will be done to the best of our intentions! Happy New Year!

The Holidays are perfectly timed. Long before there was a Christmas Day everyone knew a wintertime festival was just what we gardeners need. Some of us feel defeated by dormancy, stressed by frenzied consumerism, chilled to the bone and blue. But winter gives us a much needed chance to rest and recharge (it’s the “hibernal” season after all), and it’s our best excuse for indulging in egg nog, singing out loud in public and a having indoor garden parties.

Tomorrow will be the shortest, dimmest day of the year but in the gardener’s lexicon (this one’s anyway) the winter solstice is the official start of summer. Day after day the sun will climb, and night after night will shorten and it all leads minute by minute to You-Know-What! — Another season in the garden! If that’s not a good reason to whoop it up in the drear of winter then I don’t know what is! So in honor of the return of the light, here are a few bright pictures from this past growing season – a smidgen of a hint of all we have to look forward to:

I’m going to spend the rest of my work day today watering and grooming in the greenhouse and tidying the potting shed as if I’m preparing for a journey – even though I’m staying right here. The next time I’ll be at Blithewold it will be a totally different season. Gail and I will be surrounded by stacks of magazine back issues we haven’t had time to read yet, notebooks for writing down borrowed and newly minted garden ideas, and seed and plant catalogues for ordering our spring universe – Joy to the World, friends and gardeners and Happy Solstice!

Everything has a name. And thank goodness because it’s so much easier that way. Just think if Linnaeus hadn’t shared his system for classifying everything we’d have to identify things through a key-full of qualifiers (you know that tree with the leaves? – No, not that one – I mean the one with the glabrous twigs and leaves that have 5 lobes which are slightly dentate …. oh nevermind.) Or we’d be left with common names and those can be frustrating too – one person’s kinnikinick is another’s bearberry and it makes my head hurt how many flowering plants are called by some kind of “lily” name.

I spend a lot of time with plants and names and labels. And no matter how diligent I am, there is always something unlabeled along with someone -like me!- who will want to know its name. If I see an unlabeled unfamiliar plant, I’ll need to know what it is. Need to know! The thing that gets me is that my desire to know the name doesn’t always have anything to do with wanting to acquire the plant. I seem to just need to know what it is for no other reason than to know what it is. It’s as if knowing a name reveals some sort of hidden treasure of knowledge. And it does – It’s the key that unlocks the door to a good google search! Take this plant: its genus-and-species name is Cardiandra formosana.

If I knew more Latin I might be able to infer something about some characteristic of the plant that inspired the taxonomist. Something to do with a heart shape somewhere maybe? It takes some research to find out that this plant is related to hydrangeas and might survive a mild winter here.

I’ve recently tried to get in the habit of including the common names of plants on the labels because a lot of people ask for those too. Common names can illuminate an interesting feature on the plant and some refer to a plant’s particular usefulness and that’s all fun stuff to learn. I think it’s good to know the Latin name if you’re wanting to buy a certain plant – it’s more likely you’ll get exactly what you want. That said, it’s a lot easier to remember (and spell) “trout lily”, for instance, than Erythronium! (Nevermind that it’s also called “adder’s tongue” and “dog-tooth violet” among a bunch of other names that might not all fit on my label for it…)

How do you feel about plant names? Do you like to know the common names or the Latin or both? Which name do you use when you shop? Do you like to see labels in a public garden? Do you label the plants in your own garden? And just for fun – do ever re-name your plants like pets or the Harry Potter herbology? (I remember reading something somewhere about a garden full of Bobotubers and fanged geraniums… How fun is that?!)

Snow snow snow! And a Garden Blogger’s Bloomday (hosted by Carol at May Dreams Gardens) a day early. I practically wore out the shutter of my little camera taking pics yesterday and today (I think I could smell it smoking…) so here are an end of the week bunch. As always, hover over the pictures for a title and click for a larger view.

If I hadn’t overheard Dan say the cherry was blooming I probably would have missed it! Prunus subhirtella ‘Autumnalis’ blooms a bit in the fall – it’s subtle!- and again in the spring. It seems like our recent cold temps should have nipped it in the bud (so to speak) but even a fairly major snowfall didn’t stop a few from opening. Follow my tracks through the Rose Garden to find this tree.

The Harlequin glory bower (Clerodendrum trichotomum) berries are a bluer blue than my camera captured – you’ll have to come see it for yourself!

The Leucothoe fontanesiana shows up multicolored in the snow.

The pond and Rock Garden are sepia toned.

The Burning bush (Euonymus alatus ‘Compactus’) looks like a nest. And the snow has revealed a nest within the nest.

I didn’t want to tread on the Bosquet’s hem – it’s dressed in its finest winter robe. Sometimes I wish I could hover over the surface and not mess it up with burly boot prints. Other times I want to flop around and make a dozen angels. What do you do with the first snow?

The greenhouse inhabitants are in full winter finery too – this selection in honor of Bloom Day includes stock plants – Cuphea micropetala and Salvia vanhoutii ‘Paul’, a Farfugium japonicum ‘Aureomaculatum’ – not blooming but I love its sunspots!, a Camellia chandlerei that just opened, and two views of a Plectranthus hilliardiae ‘Candelabra’ on the low-light houseplants bench. There are many more bloomers – come by for a coat of color! (The greenhouse door is open weekdays and most weekends between 10 and 4 .)

Yesterday morning and today couldn’t have been more different. Purple drizzle clouds and bitter mist yesterday have moved over for a rime covered sparkle today. Admittedly it was less pleasant walking out in yesterday’s damp rag than today’s crisp apple but if my camera doesn’t lie, both mornings were gorgeous. I thought about “planting for winter interest” as I walked and thought, “is there anything NOT interesting in this winterland?” When we plant for winter interest I think we shoot for things that will be sufficiently pleasing from such a distance that we won’t have to leave our cozy hot chocolate kitchens to enjoy them. Put your mittens on and go outside though and nearly everything has “winter interest”!

Daphne x burkwoodii ‘Carol Mackie’ is a small semi-evergreen shrub that blooms fragrantly in spring and is seeming kind of bloom-like now too! (I should have saved this one for Bloom Day…) The only trouble with Daphnes is that sometimes they just up and die. Even the AHS A to Z says “Mature specimens may die suddenly for no apparent reason”. They’re worth the gamble, says me.

There just aren’t enough good things to say about Clematis ‘Roguchi’. I know I’ve said this already but any plant that blooms spectacular fairy hat indigo blooms all spring, summer and fall and then sports crazy Phyllis Diller seed heads for the winter gets my vote for president. Julie wrote about this superstar in the last newletter (If you join up you’ll receive our excellent newsletter!)

Euonymus alatus (Burning bush, Winged euonymus) is on nearly every invasive list and really shouldn’t be planted where their seeds could be dispersed by birds to fragile woodland. They are highly adaptable thugs that compete with natives (and win). Ours is ‘Compactus’ and is at least 15′ tall and wide and has the most spectacular fall color and facinating twig wings perfectly visible now. It’s no wonder at all that people had to have this shrub and planted it everywhere. Too bad it’s a menace.

I love the branch structure and indented trunk (like owl hideouts) of the Dawn redwood (Metasequoia glyptostroboides) and am facinated as a little kid by deciduous conifers. It’s so wrong it’s right! This tree likes rich well drained soil and full sun, is hardy from Z5-10 and grows plenty tall (AHS says 70-130′).

Another conifer (this one keeps its needles) near the house has an amazing branch structure and was dusted with frost this morning. To fully appreciate the form of Tsuga canadensis ‘Sargentii’ (Sargent’s weeping hemlock) I think you’ve got to be a little rude and look under the skirt. A weeper was grafted onto a non-pendant hemlock stem to give it some height (a leg to stand on).

It seems to me like “winter interest” may be out there whether you’ve planned for it or not! What is winter-interesting in your garden? – and did you plant it because of its “winter interest”?