With the finish line of Christmas behind us and an official fresh start still days away, this week feels a little slack-tide to me.  I’ve been torn between taking a winter’s nap and projecting (day dreaming) about what’s next.  But before diving headfirst into the next garden year and the stack of catalogs waiting for orders, I’m taking this time for reflection.  One of my end of the year tasks is to organize the hundreds of pictures I’ve taken on the property since last January and aside from re-reading the blog, there’s no better way for me to look back on the year.

I’ve been reminded about some of the things we learned – like:

A little Espoma Bulb-Tone fertilizer (4-10-6) thrown in with the annuals when we planted them made them sing like rockstars.

And after 3 straight summers of raking dead leaves out from under the roses twice a week, we learned that good hygiene really can slow down black spot.

When we planned for the ‘Karma Fuchsiana’ dahlias to be a major bright spot in the North Garden, we learned that it’s not a good idea to lean heavily on mail order plants.  (Alas, the tubers we ordered were duds.)

I’ve been reminded about plants I loved and plants I loathed:  I loved the towering teasel and cardoons.  I also adored the tiny basil blobs and ornamental hot peppers.  I was thrilled by the way the Display Garden came together with Fred and Dan’s new design and Gail’s and my plant combinations.  But I didn’t much like the daylilies or the phlox in the North Garden.

And I’ve been reminded to remember the people who have come into this garden over this past year and those who have gone.  Amazingly, visitation was up at Blithewold even though gas prices spiked.  Gail and I worked with the most wonderful volunteer crew on the planet and an incredibly dedicated team on staff.  And I am so lucky to have you out there in the world, reading this.

Are you going through your pictures and reflecting on the past year in your garden too?  What have you learned?  What did you love?

In the middle of a cold blast, chilly on the heels of a dark and snowy Solstice storm, I’m on the lookout for Joy (‘Tis the season, Fa la la la la).  But, luckily, I don’t have to look hard to find it.  No matter how stressful the holidays can be with family weirdness, travel difficulties and financial worries, we gardeners know where to look for – and find – a whole bunch of Joy.

It’s in the lengthening days from here on in and the optimism of another spring, summer and fall to come.

It’s in our faces and the faces of our friends when we laugh.

It’s in the frogs and bees and praying mantises that we know will be back.

It’s in the plants we love-love-love to grow.

It’s in bark and Swiss chard and the opinions of fellow gardeners.

We have so much to look forward to and so much to look back on – all that Joy is almost overwhelming.  ‘Tis the season to pass it on!  Joy to the World, friends and gardeners and Happy Holidays!

Terrariums are (still) cool.  Last year I wrote a post (Terrariums are cool (again)) on how I make – and became addicted to – terrariums.  And if you were inspired then to make one (or ten), they might be in need of a little rehabilitation by now.  One of the coolest things about terrariums is that you can ignore them once the initial fascination wears off.  And that’s kind of the whole point:  Terrariums should be able to take care of themselves for a while.  But then there does come a point when we need to pay them some attention again.

In order to be truly neglect-able terrariums need to have the right balance of light, air and plant material (among other things like soil and drainage).  These terrariums (above) dried out completely.  According to their owners, the tops were never opened so they really “shouldn’t have dried out – it’s not our fault!”.  Look familiar?  I suspect that they were not given enough light.  The light requirement is a delicate issue — too much sun and the terrarium cooks like a little oven.  With no sun at all, the plants transpire too slowly to produce the condensation that waters the soil – and without a vigilant gardener adding water and changing its location, everything crispifies.  There was no resuscitating these terrariums.  I started over from scratch and I’ll give them back to their owners for another go at neglect in a sunnier spot.  Winter sun is generally weak enough for placement near a west or south window if not right in it.  And I keep some of my mason jar terrariums on an east facing windowsill all year round.  A sunbeam at some point in the day is important for creating foggy condensation.

This terrarium thrived in a college dorm room window that got late afternoon sun.  According to Gail’s son, it was a curiosity and conversation piece – everyone thought there was something … else … living in it.  But as you can see the plants had gone beyond friendly competition and were strangling each other.  Look familiar?  Gail removed the overtaking Selaginella fern which had started out as a tiny cutting; the 10 strawberry begonias (Saxifraga stolonifera) which started with one; she divided the creeping fig (Ficus pumila) and the button fern (Pellaea rotundifolia) and ended up creating a whole new terrarium from pieces of the old.  If you check on it, a little trim of overgrowth now and then would save you having to start over.  But I really think half the fun of having terrariums is making them – I just adore the look of a freshly planted jar.  (And that’s when my craving kicks in all over again and have to make or redo at least 4 more.)

Do you have any terrariums?  Are they thriving or suffering?  Are you as addicted to them as we are?

Stay tuned for more posts about houseplants.  – Anyone care to join me on the topic?  Create a link and leave comments, if you do!

Since I can’t top last year’s December Bloom Day (Garden Bloggers Bloom Day is hosted the 15th of every month by Carol at May Dreams Gardens) when the Autumn flowering cherry bloomed in the snow, I’d like to propose a bloom related challenge for the gray days of December instead.

Gail and I are starting to nail down ideas and themes for next year’s Display Garden design and I have suggested that in one of the beds at least, we try to work especially with colors that neither of us likes.  Bloom color is just one of the design elements that we gardeners work with every year and I, for one, am growing tired of certain self imposed limitations and restrictions.  I don’t want the color of a flower on an otherwise worthy plant to hold me back!  And I want to like it.

We all have a particular relationship to color – some of us enjoy hues that are loud and hot while for others bright reds and oranges would bring on a migraine.  Some like baby-cheek pink while others hate it with a passion and are in love with maroon.  I have a dysfunctional relationship with purple and a resentment of yellow.  And for me when they’re together, those complementary colors, rather than complimenting each other (like blue and orange do), hurl insults.  My challenge is to be able to use purple and maybe just a touch of yellow without wincing.  And I have started to look for hints and insights.  For instance, thinking about this has caused me to question what it is about lavender plants (besides the scent, obviously) that makes me love them despite their typical bloom color.  Is it the gray foliage?  Could I learn to love purple if it occurred in a combination with gray plants?  And would I like yellow if, like a close-up of a Hakonechloa leaf, it was placed with pinkish and greenish?

This is a challenge that Gail and I might be willing to take on because at least in theory we’re making these gardens for visitors’ enjoyment rather than our own.  That gives us a certain freedom – in a way we don’t have to like what we do as long as it works really well for somebody else.   I know it’s different at home.  At home we have even tighter budgets and we will probably always gravitate towards plants that don’t argue with us.  But even at home I get a little tired of the same-old, same-old and maybe I’ll promise to shake it up there this coming year too.  At the very least it’s a fun mental exercise and I can see from looking back at pictures that there are occasions when my least favorite colors don’t make me want to look away.  What colors do you avoid like the plague?  Do you think there’s anything you could do – any combination of ugly and pretty colors that could induce love rather than eye pain?  Are you up for the challenge?

I thought the tide was high during the Nor’easter of spring 2007 – and it was – but this morning’s moon tide storm sure did flood Blithewold.  I took these pictures about an hour after high tide so we’ll all just have to imagine what it must have looked like earlier.  If only I had been a little speedier leaving the comfort of home this morning…  If you’re at all familiar with Blithewold, then you are accustomed to the Narragansett Bay quietly lapping up a certain part of the view.  When the Bay shifts its shores, it’s easy, especially looking through snapshots, to become a bit disoriented.  So I’ve included a couple/three pictures of what “normal” looks like down near the water.  Click on pictures for a larger look and hover over for captions.

Unlike my great-grandfather who would worry and go out to check on his gardens during any kind of weather, I’m always a little thrilled to forgetfulness by a good storm.  But I can sober right up when faced with the aftermath.  The grounds, aside from the flooding, didn’t seem to fare too badly – no major limbs or trees down that I saw.  But we’ll likely have our work cut out for us in the Rock Garden – maybe especially in this spot. (In the top right photo, this section of the garden is beyond the winterberry…)

Over the years we’ve learned the hard way what-not-to-plant there and we’ll have to wait and see if we’ll be adding to that list.

How did your garden survive the last storm?  Did you worry during or did you enjoy the ride?

How many of us want to keep it simple for the holidays?  Especially now.  I, for one have been shamed out of wanting to shop by the atrocious behavior of fellow consumers.  And aren’t we all feeling a little pinched money wise this year?  I’d love to keep Christmas simple and for me that means giving gifts to my family and friends that are meaningful rather than frivolous and I have just a couple of recommendations to share if anyone else out there is so inclined.

How about giving a loved one the gift of membership to your favorite non-profit organization like … say, Blithewold?!  It’s the kind of gift that not only benefits the recipient (for a list of membership perks click here) but also helps your favorite organization stay afloat in rough waters.  Don’t forget that if you click through the membership link in the side bar (or here) you, as a blog reader, are entitled to a 20% discount.  Such a deal!  And what about giving the gift of an outing?  I know a lot of families that make an annual pilgrimage to Christmas at Blithewold – why not bring a friend too?  Or you could plan ahead for a walk in the spring…

I’ve heard a lot of people lately talking about shopping locally and that’s a terrific idea for boosting your town’s economy – plus your gifts are more likely to be thoughtful and unique.  BUT if you can only find that most perfect thing for Auntie on Amazon, please enter their site via ours (or your other favorite non-profit).  By clicking on the link in the sidebar (you can peruse my garden book recommendations but you’re by no means limited to purchasing those) and following through with a purchase of any kind, Blithewold receives a small percentage of the sale.  It’s a really easy way to make a donation and shop “locally”!  (If you’re like me and you forget and always click your browser’s Amazon bookmark instead, make a new bookmark for the blog and title it “Amazon”.  Easy-peasy.)

Gifts of time and creativity are also extra special.  You could give the gift of a hand in the garden come spring – or you could do as I like to do and make terrariums for everyone!  It turns out that terrariums can be the kind of gift you can give again next year if the plants have petrified…  The parentals who gave these terrariums back to me asked for new ones – that certainly solves the dilemma of what to make for them this year!  For anyone who has a terrarium that’s limping along in need of a little TLC, I’m planning to write a terrarium rehab post in the near future.

Are you keeping it simple this year?  Do you have any other gift ideas to share?

I’m stuck on a baublular theme because I have to rave about what Fred and Dan have hung from the trees this year.  Each year the staff, volunteers and visitors are surprised by yet another spectacular light show – from a star topped Giant Sequoia one year, to a Ginkgo with huge “fruit”, to last year’s flowering Star Magnolia.  And every year I think – “Whoa!  OK, this is my favorite!”  Well.  This year’s night lights are my total top favorite of all time.  (At least until next year.)

In honor of Blithewold’s Centennial Anniversary, Fred and Dan didn’t hold back.  At all.  Seeing is believing that they used 1000 linear feet of bamboo and 10,000 lights to decorate two front lawn Beech trees with 50 stars each.   And you have to see it for yourself – I’ll show a photo (if I get any good ones) only after everyone in the vicinity (a 1000 mile radius?) has had a chance to see it live first.  Ferry Road traffic has slowed for gaping rubberneckers – it’s a little scary to think you might be hit by someone who’s not watching the road anymore.  But it’s so worth the worry for a drive by and even better, a stop in – I know I’ve already mentioned that the inside of the mansion is bedecked to the very nines too and not to be missed for all the dust in fairyland.

What is it about Christmas lights?  Is it an inner kid thing that makes me grin and want to clap when I see a good display?  Am I already so starved for daylight that I’ll settle for staring at 10,000 tiny bulbs on a string?  Do you decorate with lights?  Why?

‘Tis the season to hang stuff from branches – even the trees are doing it!  – Hey, maybe that’s where Martha and the rest of us got the idea…  And when the trees drop their decorations, I think it’s totally fair game for us to pick some of it up and hang it somewhere else.

Gail and I – Gail especially maybe  – have been getting a little sidetracked with the abundance of visible cones and pods all over the property.  She’s been picking them up by the armful and I’ve been studying their whorls, patterns and the Fibonacci sequence like there’s going to be a test.  How well do you know your cones?  Quiz yourself on the pictures below and hover over for the answers (no cheating! – Just kidding – it’s ok to cheat.)  Can you guess which one is not a cone but a pod?  Do you know what makes a cone a cone and not a pod?*

How did you do?  There’s only one cone I know well enough to call by its first name when I meet it on the street.  A few years ago I was asked to draw a picture of a Giant Sequoia cone for Blithewold’s tree map and I must say there’s nothing like turning something over and over in one hand and drawing it over and over with the other to learn it by heart.  I’m inspired to draw the others now that I remember that trick.  Or maybe I’ll just spraypaint them silver and hang them from a new branch…  Do you collect cones and pods and other garden baubles?

*A cone is a woody, scaly structure on gymnosperms (conifers) from which naked seeds are dispersed.  A pod, loosely defined, is a dry fruit that splits open to disperse seed.