I predict that this year the daffodils will open. I really think they will! As a matter of fact, some of them have already opened! Every year Blithewold officially opens its doors for the season during the peak daffodil bloom. Or thereabouts. And every year we all try to predict when the majority of the 50,000 will be open so that visitors who travel great distances to see the Bosquet in its famous glory won’t be disappointed.

If we could press a button (I picture it as a bright yellow knob that could be smacked with the flat of the palm – or as a giant on/off toggle that could be thrown ceremoniously like a cartoon electric switch) we’d turn them on on a Friday afternoon before a sunny weekend in the exact middle of April. But we gardeners know that flowers open only when they’re good and ready not because we’re standing over them shouting “Go!”. And although some of us aren’t above peeling open a bud to “help it along”, that isn’t a recommended method for coaxing thousands of daffodils. We have to be patient and at Blithewold we cross our fingers too. If the daffs open too early, their admirers won’t be on the ball to enjoy them; too late and they’ll miss the party thrown in their honor.

I can’t say yet when the peak will be this year – predicting that with any accuracy is something only God and Julie can do. I just want to make sure nobody misses anything. The best thing to do is get yourself a membership and start taking Blithewold walks now even if you have to wear ear muffs and galoshes. Watch the weather – the sun is supposed to come out this week which will no doubt inspire a few more buds to unwrap and the night temperatures are still in the 30′s which should ensure that the blooms rest open like they would in a florist’s fridge.

And whether or not you time your timing to be dazzled by daffs during your visit to Blithewold, there are other things to notice too. Look for spring and find it in the Autumn Cherry,

fattly budded quince and forsythia, the Cornelian Cherry,

and adorable pleated baby leaves of the Siebold viburnum.

Are you planning a road trip to see a daffodil show? Ours or someone else’s? Will you wait (with bated breath) for the peak bloom or see what you see when you see it?

Wherever you are, in spring there comes a time when you should really stop avoiding your rose pruning duties. I don’t know what it is about roses but they seem to give people anxiety. I know I’m not the only one who has worried about doing roses “wrong”. People always stop to watch and learn when we’re working on the roses as if we might reveal the secret handshake. But you don’t have to be a part of a club to grow a pretty rose and even if you don’t obey the “rules”, the Rose Society police won’t arrest you for misconduct. (I’m pretty sure.)

The best time for spring pruning is before the buds have broken and on a mild weather day when all you want is to be outside doing something productive. Pruning when the roses are ready to break dormancy will ensure that all of their fresh energy goes straight into the canes and buds that you’ve decided to keep. Most of the roses we grow in the Rose Garden and North Garden are shrub roses and floribundas and those seem to love a heavy hand in the spring. (New roses only a year or two old prefer a lighter touch.) For instruction on different kinds of roses like climbers and hybrid teas, there are shelves of books written by experts – your local library probably has a ton.

We cut most of our roses back by about a third but I have to admit that once I get going, more like half goes sometimes. Cut out all the dead canes and give your rose the hairy eyeball to determine if any of the more elderly canes should come out as well. Take your time and go cane by cane – If there’s a young healthy cane and an old one side by side – maybe go ahead and take out some or all of the old one to give the new one room to grow. Your rose will tell you what to do – if you cut too far above a bud, you’ll find an ugly dead stub there in a few weeks. Cut too low and the bud might die. If you make your cut at an angle the water will run off rather than pool in the wound (who wants that?). Think about the shape of the rose to come. A lot of roses look their best with plenty of air circulation through the plant. If you cut above buds that face out rather than in, you’ll be helping the plant to not choke itself. (The books will tell you to make a V shape.) Crossed canes are another something to look for and cut out.

When the volunteers and I started this year’s pruning with trepidation, Julie reminded us, “Plants are forgiving”. Don’t be afraid. Even if you stand back and think you just butchered your prize ‘Ballerina’, it will probably reward your brutality by growing gangbusters.

Have you worked on your roses yet? Do you have a heavy hand or light touch?

The roses aren’t the only things in the garden ready to grow. We’ve started cleaning up the perennial beds – it’s much easier to cut back the dead when the new growth is still tight at the crown. And the Daffodils are looking like a few warm days is all it would take to bust out singing. I still think the peak bloom will be on schedule during the events of Daffodil Days but some of the ‘Ice Follies’ might start their show this weekend. (The house opens for the season on April 12; the grounds are open now.)

Does this look familiar? Now is when I officially might start repeating myself – exactly one year ago tomorrow I wrote Blithewold’s first ever blog post – I kid you not. It’s Blithewold’s anniblogiversary!! And it’s truly déjà vu all over again because it looks for all the world like we’re on the same track as last year. Here’s my first post – should I just say “ditto”? This morning a few regular Deadheads, a couple of new faces and Joel potted up about 200 cuttings and transplanted at least as many seedlings. (What would we do without the volunteers?) Just like last year, tomorrow promises wind and we’ll definitely start cleaning up the North Garden this week. No doubt I’ll even want to wax rhapsodic all over again about those adorable little velvet accordian fold Alchemilla mollis (Lady’s mantle) leaves hidden under last seasons scrunky dead stuff. (I mentioned to Julie how much I love cleaning up the Lady’s mantle and she looked at me like I was painted purple. Come on! What’s not to love about that job?)

As gardeners we’re used to doing the same thing over and over, year in and out (dig, plant, weed, repeat). It’s a good thing our gardens are never the same twice though because I’d hate for this part of my job to become redundant. One of the most rewarding things – and the one I had no real idea of when I proposed writing a blog for Blithewold – was getting to meet such an amazing group of gardeners from all over the world. I live for your comments (I can hear the new-mail chime on my computer from the other end of the greenhouse) and just as the gardens wouldn’t be as beautiful without the volunteers, this blog wouldn’t be as writable without all of you. Thank you for a fabulous year and please join me for another!