The light is definitely changing. I have to be quick now because in the middle of the afternoon the sun angles in the potting shed windows, arcs across the monitor screen and slides underneath my eyelids like it’s trying to poke me awake from my wintertime torporific stupor. Ground Hog’s Day has always been my favorite holiday because for me it marks spring within reach. Regardless of whether we get a Blizzard of ‘78 anniversary event or even snow in March, spring is still inevitable and closer by the day. The birds are singing, the sun is high enough and warm enough to send the greenhouse vents flapping and we’re getting into gear – a slow first gear to warm up our engines for the big spring push starting for us, in March and April.

A couple of volunteers came in today to help Gail and me tackle the weeds. Just like any other garden, the greenhouse desperately needs to be weeded every minute and the Kenilworth Ivy (Cymbalaria muralis) had gotten ahead of us. I think it looks pretty but it’s a very tasty harbor for the dreaded whitefly. Maybe thanks to my pest-icidal tendencies (I’m a killing machine armed with a soapy water spray bottle), we didn’t have clouds of whitefly up our noses and instead just suffered the discomfort of out of practice squats and deep knee bends. (Gardener calisthenics)

I know I’m not the only one to be easily distracted in the garden, or in this case, the greenhouse (Carol at May Dreams Gardens has written a lot about it) but you’d think because I do this every day and for a living that I might have achieved a little more focus by now. This morning I very purposely started unpotting this poor potbound Colocasia (C. fallax), then I’m not sure what happened – maybe I noticed a weed or wanted my camera or saw something shiny and the next thing I knew hours had gone forgotten by. My hori-hori was still impaled in the pot and poor babies were high and dry on the floor. All is well though. I went back to it and have it almost all divided and repotted now. Hey look, the iris are starting to bloom!

Gail and I were joined last week by an adorably snarky representative from Generation Y who maybe just might definitely be a gardener. Lila is a senior at Barrington High School. Her parents have a vegetable garden that keeps the family out of the produce aisle and she volunteered (of her own volition) with the Deadheads last summer. Gail and I got such a kick out of Lila that we encouraged her to come up with a senior project that would bring her back to the greenhouse this winter. Lila’s thesis goes like this: “The genetic modification of plants presents hazards to ecology and human health that outweigh the benefits of agricultural biotechnology.” For her field work, she brought in Arabidopsis seeds to test Mendel’s Laws – which in turn test my memory of high school and college biology. (Mendel is the one who said – in a nutshell – we carry dominant and recessive traits in our genes and pass a set of those traits to offspring in a ratio of 3:1) And Lila learned “old fashioned” plant propagation techniques from her project mentor, Gail.

One thing that I (as project photographer and nosey parker) noticed while working with Lila was that here was a teenager who, although she plans on studying environmental biology (or something else smart sounding) rather than horticulture, had some serious opinions about gardens and plants. (Seriously wacky opinions but I’ll get to that in a minute.) For all I’ve heard about gardening being a dying trend, I wonder – what about all the children of gardeners? Don’t you credit a parent or grandparent for teaching you -probably by example- to love gardening? My mother took over in our garden where my great-grandfather left off. As a kid, I was pretty disinterested in that garden aside from jumping in leaf piles and climbing Grampy’s trees but I have clear memories of my Mom planting flats of annuals and chewing parsley as she weeded. It wasn’t until college that I realized I inherited their gardening gene. (Maybe the love-to-garden allele is dominant and follows Mendel’s First Law)

While Lila worked on her project, Gail and I finalized the seed orders and discussed the gardens. And Lila chimed in. We may have to thank her for a new a new accent color on the cobalt chair and bench and she thinks we should have orange zinnias in the garden again and is dead-against ornamental vegetables (like our favorites Swiss Chard ‘Bright Lights’ and ‘Bull’s Blood’ beets) in a mixed garden. “Vegetables are for eating – not looking at!”, she said with conviction. Apparently it’s ok for a few flowers to prettify the vegetable garden though… Gail and I are secretly proud of her opinions and have no intention of following some of her advice.

I guess I was a little distracted on Bloom Day this month because I missed these little sweetums blooming (outdoors!) practically right under my nose. Walking from the greenhouse to the house I pass this little clump of heathers (or are they “heaths” when they’re winter flowering?) along the Enclosed Garden path. It was only when I walked that same path in the opposite direction the other day that I noticed them blooming away. Ericas like well drained, acid soil and full sun (according to AHS A-Z) and these definitely exhibit more blooms on winter’s sunny side. — So if you want to plant them for color from a winter window, think about placing them north of your view. This grouping includes Erica carnea ‘December Red’ (purple in the middle), ‘Springwood White’(front), ‘Myretoun Ruby’ (right) and E. x darleyensis ‘Mediterranean White’ (in the way back).

Taking the path from the Bosquet to the Water Garden yesterday I snuck up on the witch hazels and was surprised to find what I was looking for – Hamamelis x intermedia ‘Diane’ is starting to pucker up her lipstick blooms. Have you checked your witch hazels lately? Yo-yo winter weather might get them started before you know it.

In the greenhouse another fun surprise: Our Graptopetalum -probably a cultivar of G. paraguayense- is busy making babies.

If that’s not an excellent example of survival of the of the most opportunistic I don’t know what is. (Of course I gave new homes to all the kids I found.) Anything suprise you this week?