As you all know, this past Tuesday was the Feast of the Presentation of the Prophet Phil. I celebrated and paid homage as usual but I think I might be losing faith in The Groundhog.

The sun was shining in Punxutawney, PA and Phil saw his shadow. According to tradition that means we’ll have 6 more weeks of winter weather. But here in Bristol, it was cloudy that day. If our woodchuck, a lay rodent, had been ceremoniously yanked from his burrow, it wouldn’t have been the sun sending him scurrying back to bed. Not only that, but other signs seem, to me, to be pointing directly at spring’s corner. Just this week the birds  started to sing again – I heard mourning doves this morning – and the late winter, spring-predicting flowers are showing their colors. The sun is high enough to warm the greenhouse and I could swear that the silhouette of the trees has just changed – I think they’ve filled out a little. I prefer to think that spring is right around the corner – my gut says it’s only 6 weeks away.

Do you believe (in) Punxutawney Phil or the other indicators of spring?

Raise your hand if your houseplants don’t have scale. Anyone, anyone? If they don’t, I’m willing to bet that either Mother Nature loves lucky-you especially (though she may have another plague in store, beware); you have only four houseplants, all begonias; or your plants have been infested with scale insects in the past and you have somehow managed to banish it from your house. If your plants do have scale, don’t be embarrassed. You’re in good company (says me).

I freely admit to having disgusting scale on a few of my plants at home. (For Mr. McGregor’s Daughter’s houseplant census, I also admit to having upwards of 85 plants inside my approximately 1000 sq. foot house…) And I’m sorry to say that ever since we stopped using systemic pesticides, a few scale have found their way back into the greenhouse here and there. If you’re not already familiar with these sapsuckers, scale generally look like crusty brown or waxy yellowish scabs and are often found on the underside of leaves along the midrib, tucked into leaf axils or along the stem. (Mealy bug is also a type of scale which resembles sticky grey cotton goo.)

Scale life-cycle in a nutshell (ha!): Eggs hatch under the protective shell of the female and start their life out as “crawlers”. They don’t travel far or fast – but that would explain how they get from plant to plant especially in a cheek-by-jowl living arrangement. Once they’ve found their spot they lose their legs and settle in for a suck. After molting and morphing into their adult selves, male scale grow wings but lose the ability to eat (no mouth). Males use their day or two window of opportunity to search for and mate with females. Females meanwhile develop a crusty protective shell from their castoff molts.

I have never noticed any flyers, eggs or “crawlers” but I guess I haven’t paid very close attention. I do always notice a fresh crop of immature scale (the small yellowish ones), their honeydew poop and the opportunistic sooty mold that sticks to it. I periodically – probably once a week at home – put plants in the sink for a bath and I go after the individual scale with an insecticidal fingernail.

The recommended treatment (besides systemic pesticides, or introducing another insect into your house to eat the scale – which might be worth a try) is to scrape them off and give the plant a dilute soap and/or horticultural oil wash and a water rinse. But take care to test your chosen method before treating the whole plant. Ferns, for one, are notoriously sensitive to anything but a gentle fingernail and room-temp water, and citrus don’t love oil.

So, fess up now – do your houseplants have scale? What do you do?

There is no way I’m going back outside today. Nope. I’m staying in no matter how many colors there are. They can name themselves today. It’s cold! Maybe our little thaw has made me soft. Or maybe I’m a zone 8. It’s only 14° out there and the wind is gusting to 35mph making it feel more like something truly negative. It’s too cold for the nose to work and any scent has been blown away anyway. I’m staying in.

But keeping a positive attitude, thank goodness we’ve got work to do in our greenhouse and potting shed. Never mind that it’s only in the 50’s in here – that’s downright toasty. And the sun is getting high enough out of the south that some of the ice might even melt as the houses warm into the 60’s. On this frigid Friday (I’m joining Mr. McGregor’s Daughter’s meme today) we’ll do some overdue potting up and a bit more catalog shopping – plants this time, now that our seed orders have been sent out. And I expect we’ll wrap our chilly fingers around consecutive cups of tea.

Are you planted inside today too or are you made of hardier stuff ? What zone are you?

–Speaking of hardy, in the greenhouse we’re babysitting a little Edgeworthia chrysantha and it’s beginning to open up. I just learned that it’s a Daphne relative (oh dear) and hardy to zone 7. (Blithewold is officially USDA zone 7 but I don’t believe it. We call it a 6.) Do any of you in a nearby zone have experience with this lovely little winter bloomer? I’d like about 10 more of our very own if there’s truly a chance they’ll survive and thrive…

The annual January thaw always fools me – and maybe the wrens too – into thinking that spring must be right around the corner. After yesterday’s warm rain deluge, the snow is a memory, the ground gives and squishes like a soaked sponge and there is so much variety in the shades of green and brown that I’m getting distracted trying to give them all names. (viridian, turquoise, jade, moss, pea, blue lichen, salad mix; topaz, russet, ashes of roses, sepia, raw umber, muddy boot…) Anyway there’s a rainbow, so to speak, (get it – rainbow?) outside and it smells pretty good too.

Some gardeners take the cold weather opportunity to find hot (color) climes this time of year. But as envious of them as I generally feel (evidently, Costa Rica is the happiest place on Earth), I wouldn’t want to miss the thaw and the daily reminder to appreciate the changes even when they’re really, really subtle. (This is how I console myself – along with naming the greens and browns.) Plus there are all sorts of seminars and lectures over the winter and I wouldn’t want to miss any of those either – just last night Lee Reich gave a talk here on how to espalier fruit trees (and shrubs – currants!) and tomorrow we’re off to the RI Nursery and Landscape Association winter conference.

Can you smell the earth today? How do you console yourself for not being in Costa Rica? (Or is that where you are?)

Last night Gail and I made a trek to Boston to hear a lecture given by Dan Pearson (co-sponsored by Arnold Arboretum and Trinity Church). If you don’t already know of Dan Pearson, he is one of the rock stars of the horticultural world – a garden designer from the UK who works around the world and has written for Gardens Illustrated, The Observer, The Daily Telegraph and The Sunday Times as well as a few books – most recently one called Spirit: Garden Inspiration. He spoke about a life-long fascination with the spirit of landscapes and has traveled the world to find the places that resonate for him (and would for any of us): Untouched places like a remote part of New Zealand where trees have grown on trees that have grown on trees that have grown on epiphytes that have grown on trees – for millennia; barely touched places like the ancient Druid altar of Dartmoor; places where nature intersects with human intervention – like the Moss Temple garden in Japan where nothing is extraneous and you must participate in a ritual chant before entering; and places entirely man-made like Chicago’s Cloud Gate sculpture.

Nothing Pearson said was particularly earth shattering – in fact, he’s not really into that sort of thing. His designs have a light touch because he’s not interested in making “indelible marks” on the landscape. He talked about how the landscape – our gardens – can be places that connect us to the earth – in the details, and in the passage of time. Landscapes can humble us and help clear our mind. He mentioned an annual walk he takes in southern Spain, where for 2 weeks he walks the same path (to a remote limestone cliff beach. Please.) and every day as his eyes become accustomed to the landscape, more and more details are revealed to him. I know that people visit (and re-visit) Blithewold for the solace of a comfort-zone connection to nature, and although it might not be Andalusia by any stretch, regular walks here – anywhere – can be every bit as meditative.

Some of the places he’s been -and designed- were spare to the point of austere. But elegant and perfect in every way. Gail and I spent the train ride home talking about the mental toughness test we’d have to keep from embellishing some of these places. We, I think, focus a lot on long seasons of interest (more blooms, no waiting!) whereas he celebrates the ephemeral. – It seems difficult to reconcile being a plant junkie with a nature inspired design and an elegant touch. (But I suspect Pearson’s a bit of a junkie too – he just has more self-control perhaps.)

He is so immersed in his work that by now it is – and maybe it always was – instinctual. When someone asked about his actual design process, Pearson said that it’s like when you meet someone for the first time, you know very quickly if you have things in common and whether or not a lasting relationship will follow. Same thing with a garden. He just knows it. I realize now that I have completely lost sight of the first impression I had of my own garden – before it was mine, which was a sublime feeling of being perfectly “at home”. That is what should whisper the changes I make there.

Do you look for or feel the spirit in places? – Where? Are you a garden whisperer?

For a mid-January Garden Bloggers Bloom Day, as much as I always want to show off greenhouse flowers, I think it’s more honest to say that the only thing in full-full bloom around here is desire. A raft of seed catalogs is spread across the potting shed – there’s no bare surface – and Gail and I are writing endless wish-lists.

Seed companies just know how to get us. There’s the picture – that tiny image of a perfect flower. When I squint my eyes at those little pictures I can only imagine that this could be the plant – the one! - that will make the garden more beautiful – or now that even I am thinking about growing some food at home – more productive than ever before. The description always backs that up and practically guarantees that if we buy a packet of this particular seed, we’ll live happily ever after and be rich beyond our wildest dreams and the weather will be perfect every day.

Am I wrong? Don’t the words “New!” and “nonstop” and “juiciest” affect you the same way? But we’re all adults here. Just like cruising the personals for our dream date (not that I’m admitting to ever having done that…) we have learned to read between the lines. “Self sows”? Uh huh, that one will be back like a bad penny, like it or not. And we check references. If it’s offered by different companies, which picture is the clearest? Which description sounds the likeliest? How many seeds for how many dollars? Is it a match made in heaven? And we’ve been burned before so we’re cautious. “Purple” might mean hot pink and “cream” might just be bright blazing yellow. But we’re also willing to take our chances.

We’re in the honeymoon phase of the relationship with our seed orders. They’re all perfect. They all have tremendous potential. We’re totally in love. Right now, in my mind’s eye the garden has never been more glorious and perfect and in the fullest of bloom. It’s when the orders arrive, that the real work of the relationship begins. Our hearts might be broken right away by poor germination; the relationship could just damp-off; or worse, the plant might grow and flourish but not live up to our expectations. If only we had seen a full-body shot rather than a close-up… but the seed companies know how to get us. And thank goodness – in January we need their blooms to build our dreams on.

Is your dream garden in full bloom right now? (For a look at what’s really in bloom today around the world, visit May Dreams Gardens.)

I promised a post on the decade’s best plants and after making an enormous list with Gail’s help, realized that it was too hard to narrow down our favorites to a mere ten. So, because our favorite perennials and shrubs are essentially permanent fixtures in the gardens (if I haven’t talked about them all already, you can be sure I will), and we’re heading into full-on propagation season, I thought it would be much better to give you a list of plants that we actively choose to grow every year. Below is a probably very familiar looking gallery of 10 of our favorite seed annuals and tender perennials that will follow us into the decade. Gail and I can’t imagine the gardens without them. (I know I’ve already talked about a lot of these guys too so I’ll try to be brief…)

5 favorite seed annuals: Nicotiana (sylvestris, mutabilis, ‘Tinkerbell’, ‘Lime Green’…) I love them all and don’t mind doing a little editing whenever they seed themselves around. Asclepias physocarpa ‘Oscar’ (a.k.a. Gomphocarpus physocarpus ‘Hairy Balls’ – Swan plant) I’ve already gone on and on about this one – sturdy, 6′ tall with delicate flowers and weird puff ball seed pods. Pennisetum ruppelianum a.k.a. Pennisetum setaceum – Fountain grass – we love it because it’s a good looking grass that grows into a large graceful clump by August. Gomphrena - globe amaranth. I heart polka-dots and these are just the best cut flower. Zinnia. No garden should be without zinnias. They’re too easy (7 weeks from seed to bloom) and too beautiful. We especially love the Benary series (for tall) and Profusion (for short).

5 favorite tender perennials: Stachytarpheta - Porterweed. On a fast-growing to 3′ plant, inconspicuous flowers climb a green stem spike. Weird = love. Plectranthus fruticosus – we grow it for matte green foliage with purple undersides and love it for the very late (Sept/Oct) luminescent flowers. African blue basil – you already know why I love this plant – scent + bee-magnet blooms + vigor = love. Salvia guaranitica – It’s Gail’s and the hummingbirds’ very favorite and I’m sorry I didn’t take a decent picture of it this year! And Cupheas, which are also high on Gail’s list. – We’ll take any we can get our paws on but especially love ‘David Verity’ because it’s never not blooming.

What annuals and tender perennials can’t your garden grow without?

Gail and I need a little more time to gather thoughts before I dive into posts about the decade’s best plants. Because I ventured outside on some of the chilliest days to grab at pictures with my mittens on, I’ll give those to you today instead. You might want to make a cup of tea and put on your thickest sweater before looking…

Even though I’ve never considered this my favorite season, I have realized that I am very grateful to live in a climate that has a true winter. I need a real break from the garden to recharge my brain and body. – And if it was warm enough to work outside I would have trouble staying in.

A month or two ago I couldn’t really imagine having any fresh ideas for these gardens or even my own (which I think about constantly even while I’m at work). I was fried. But after only a couple of weeks of intensive indoor regrouping, I have enough thoughts in my head that if I don’t write them down they’re likely to be pushed off the shelf by the next thing. I definitely need help to kick-start the idea process. Before allowing ourselves even a glance at seed catalogs, Gail and I always take a look through the year’s gardening magazines, which we hadn’t yet given ourselves time to read, and we pull out the ancient back issues too along with our favorite books. – Because everything old is new again. And of course I am catching up on blog reading. Amazingly, it doesn’t take much for the ideas to start germinating. A plant suggestion here, a photo there and I’m already completely jazzed to get back in the garden.

Do you take a winter intermission too? Self or climate imposed? Where do you find the seeds for your ideas?

Why is it that, on this date every year, time always seems to have flown by? Looking back at calendar entries and scrolling through pictures I can start to recall interminable weeks of rain and quite a few endlessly beautiful and eventful days. But it’s only when I think about all of the changes in the gardens that it really starts to feel like a very full year has passed. To celebrate 2009 here are 9 of my favorite plants that were, in one way or another, new this year (or if you’re reading this tomorrow, they were new last year). In alphabetical order:

Agave americana This plant was not new to us but planting it in the garden was. And despite the excessively rainy start to the summer, it thrived. As a matter of fact, it was so happy planted in the ground that Gail and I had to ask Fred and Dan – two very strong men – to dig it up in October and pot it into the most enormous container they could find. By the looks of the before and after, it must have nearly doubled in size.

Red peacock kale (Brassica) This about as ornamental as a vegetable can get, I think. It stood a good 2′ tall and was covered in blue and purple rosette frills by the end of the season (I wish I had pictures of the whole plant but as you see, the “flowers” were what captivated me.) It was tasty too! And by some miracle, the aphids and cabbage moths didn’t love it as much as I did. Close second in the ornamental veg category was Deadon Hybrid cabbage which would have been even more beautiful if the bunnies, slugs and moths didn’t love it too. Sweet and delicious!

Coreopsis ‘Sienna Sunset’ has that perfect soft orange color that just gets me. And it bloomed from the day we planted it in June until sometime in September or October without ever crying out to be deadheaded as some coreopsis do. (Our volunteers cringe to recall the punishment of  ‘Moonbeam’.) Fingers crossed that it survives the winter…

Dahlia ‘Pale Tiger’ and ‘Teesbrooke Redeye’ Gail and I were both really impressed with the dahlias we bought as cuttings from Corralitos Gardens and if I had to choose favorites, these would be them. (Today anyway. Ask me again tomorrow. ‘Florinoor’ was gorgeous too…)

Echinacea ‘Green Envy’ What can I say? I know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but I love love love it!

Gladiolus There’s not much new about glads – they’re about as old-fashioned as you can get. But it’s been a long time since we last used them, and I just loved seeing something come up so fresh and new in the late July heat. Two of the varieties that we planted in the North Garden were ‘Green Jade’ and ‘The Blues’.

Gomphrena ‘Fireworks’ is a seed annual we purchased from Burpee because it was “NEW” and “Unlike any Globe Amaranth ever seen!” And it was, without a doubt, a winner. It grew to about 3 and a half feet, was really nicely branched and chockablock full of blooms all summer. The flowers were an indeterminate shade between pink and purple (difficult to photograph) and studded by yellow-orange tips – very cool.

Rhus typhina ‘Tigereye Bailtiger’ – Tiger eye sumac I’m not sure how I missed this plant when it lived in the nursery bed but it got my full attention this year. Fred and Dan planted it for us on the shady edge of the “kid’s bed” where the foliage stayed a lovely chartruese rather than shifting to the citronella-yellow it wants to be. And then the fall color knocked us over. It might run like sumacs do, but somehow I don’t think it will be hard to find homes for any babies.

Rubus odoratus – Flowering raspberry or eastern thimbleberry This is another plant that wasn’t on my radar at all until a visiting editor from Fine Gardening magazine asked me about it. To find out why I think it’s a great plant, check out the Plant Picks section of the latest issue!

Out with the old? Not always. In with the new? You bet. Happy New Year!!

I am always blown away by the extravagant abundance surrounding the holidays – even when my family makes the annual decision to “go easy this year”. But it occurs to me that I should really feel accustomed to bonanza. Whether we gardeners grow plants for their flowers, foliage or food, we  are daily blessed by an embarrassment of riches – one I am never the least bit discomfited by.

Like many of you, I am taking a little time at the turn of the year – and the decade – to organize pictures and take a reassessing look back at the whole season. In a series of New Year posts I’ll list a Top Nine plants for 2009. I might even do a Top Ten for the whole decade (with Gail’s help) in order to list a few plants that have really stood the test. And unless I get distracted by other shiny topics, I’ll take a good look at whatever didn’t work so well in the gardens too. In the meantime though, while I do some more sorting, here is a year in pictures of extravagant abundance from all over Blithewold (in order from January to December, 2009):

Gail and I want to thank everyone who helped make these gardens and grounds so richly abundant and beautiful this year. Some of you know who you are – Fred and Dan, Lilah and Cathy, Julie, everyone in the house, all of the volunteers. Blithewold members, supporters and visitors, we couldn’t do it without any of you either. (And what would be the point?) Thanks go also to Blithewold’s virtual visitors. – I couldn’t write this without you. (Fellow bloggers, I have recently updated my blogroll – if you’re not on it and would like to be, please let me know.)

Are you reveling in or reviewing a year’s worth of your garden’s abundance too? If you have posted pictures, please send along a link!