I think we outdid ourselves. In the last couple of weeks Gail, Betsy, the volunteers, and I planted about 700 perennials and a handful of shrubs. Going into our planning season this past winter, Gail and I both thought that we wouldn’t place big perennial orders this year. Then the catalogs arrived and we couldn’t help ourselves. Our excuse is that we want these gardens to be wow-full and inspire visitors. We want to stay au courant, plant what the kids are planting now, try new things to see if they really are as great as their write-ups, and retry old favorites that might deserve a comeback. So we didn’t hold back when we went to nurseries and plant sales either.

I’m pretty excited to finally try bowman’s root (Gillenia trifoliata a.k.a Porteranthus), a native described as “tough” with delicate gaura-like flowers and red fall foliage. We placed it both in the pollinator garden and the Rock Garden where seriously tough conditions will give it the true test. I can’t wait to see if the ‘Blonde Ambition’ blue grama grass (Bouteloua gracilis) is the stunner I think it might be, and I have wanted blackberry lily (Belamcanda chinensis) for ages but had trouble finding it. Here’s hoping it takes off like this regular old passalong plant is supposed to.

Our new “foliage bed” was too much fun to shop for. Of course we have to try new heucheras and were assured that ‘Citronelle’ (both Gail and I are suckers for chartreuse foliage), ‘Encore’, and ‘Dark Secret’ are as awesome as they come. We finally have the perfect spot to try shredded umbrella plant (Syneilesis aconitifolia) but we still haven’t found the exactly right place for sycamore-leaf false nettle (Boehmeria platanifolia), which by all accounts is one of the coolest, hippest foliage plants for partial shade. (Why didn’t we have that yet? It doesn’t matter. We have it now. ) Catchfly (Silene latifolia ‘Rollie’s Favorite’) is already earning its keep in the Rock Garden. Even if it doesn’t survive (and why wouldn’t it? — drought maybe?) I’d use it like an annual especially if it continues to bloom all season like the description says it will (after a shearing).

Even though it seemed last year like our gardens were getting saturated perennial-wise, somehow, miraculously, there’s always room for newbies in May. (It’s not so miraculous actually. Removing giant patches of place-holding rudbeckia and Shasta daisy is my favorite way to open up new plant slots, especially at home.)

Have you been planting perennials too? Any you’re especially excited about?

Daffodil Days culminates this coming Sunday with our annual Fairy Festival and we expect all of Blithewold’s fairies to come out for the party. Conditions should be just right. A warm and sunny day is in the forecast and there will be plenty of believers on the property… I’m pretty sure I know where they’ve been hiding lately too. If I was a fairy I’d probably hang out with the daffodils in the Bosquet (they’re still in peak bloom) probably under the open parasols of the mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum) and kicking back on trout lily leaves.

But there’s really no better fairy camouflage than epimedium. Especially now while it displays tiny blooms that look enough like real fairy wings to earn that as one of its common names. — Or is it the leaves that look like fairies’ wings because, come to think of it, to me the flowers look more like court jester hats. But then the leaves look more like hearts… Maybe on Sunday, when we get a better look at the fairies, we’ll be able to tell what’s what.

In any case, anyone who wants to attract fairies to their garden should definitely consider planting epimedium. And even if you’re allergic to fairy stings, you might fall for epimedium just because it’s one of the prettiest groundcovers of all time for shade. Our biggest colonies are planted in the Rock Garden and just outside the Rose Garden moongate, in a bed we refer to as the “dry shade bed”. The ground under the Pagoda tree (Sophora japonica) is dry and compacted but these dainty and delicate looking plants have been perfectly happy to spread their wings (so to speak — rhizomes, actually) over the last few years to fill in where not much else wants to. They’re a whole lot tougher than they look. If you’re not already a fan, here’s another point in their favor: most are practically evergreen and need no more attention than a once-a-year haircut in late winter/early spring to make way for these spectacular (and sometimes speckled) new leaves and adorable flowers. And if you are already a fan, you know that planting one leads down a slippery slope to craving a whole collection. (There are about 40 species and who knows — I certainly don’t — how many cultivars.) Rarity though, is another point in their favor — despite their willingness to spread, they are not always easy to divide, which makes them a little bit precious and sometimes hard to find to buy. (Our favorite local source is Avant Gardens.)

Do you have fairies or fairy wings in your garden? Any favorites?

These last two days have been so spectacular — soft, sunny, and warm — that I can’t stand the thought of anyone being stuck indoors. I know I’m lucky (in a previous life I worked in a windowless office) and I wish you all could be out here with us. (If it’s any consolation, I’m inside now to work on this. But the door next to my desk is wide open and the greenhouse is behind me. I’m totally lucky.)

I had to include the above daffodil pictures in this post — they’re on their way towards peak — but before they blare every trumpet I feel justified in focusing on the spring tinies. Ephemerals like the trout lily (Erythronium americanum) that has speckled the Bosquet and every garden and is just beginning to bloom; tiny primroses (Primula veris vulgaris), and European ginger (Asarum europaeum) blooming almost invisibly in the Rock Garden; weird octopus’ garden foliage and buds of Muscari armeniacum ‘Valerie Finnis’; and the innocent-looking flowers and newly emerged foliage of butterbur (Petasites japonicus). There’s no indication that in 2 or 3 weeks time the butterbur’s leaves will be as big as tea tables…

(Click on any picture for a showier show and/or mouse over for captions.)

Speaking of innocent-looking, we started taking out, dividing, and moving around perennials that have grown close together in the Idea Garden. Everything is still so tiny that it’s hard to believe they’ll ever be shoulder height (some of them) and a lot of them look exactly alike (to me) at this stage. It was like a memory test to remember what’s what. And in fact it was hard enough for me to distinguish between the mountain mint (Pycnanthemum verticillatum) — which we want to replace with a showier P. muticum — and the Monarda fistulosa ‘Claire Grace’, planted side by side that I had to resort to the sniff test. Mountain mint definitely smells mintier… And we had to do some fancy footwork to avoid stepping on all of the perennials still so tucked in that we can barely even see them. But this is the perfect time to start to play musical perennials. We can even get away with stashing The Unplanted in bags in the shade for a week or two (I don’t mind making daylilies and rudbeckia wait even longer) until we figure out where they’ll live next.

Please tell me you were able to get into your garden to dig into (or just enjoy) spring’s tinies. (I’ll feel better if you have.)

I hate to miss anything. Especially spring. And some years it feels like it just flies by before I can catch it. I think that’s why I almost prefer early spring to any other season of the year. It’s all about potential. There’s still a chance I’ll catch the season as it comes and enjoy it to its very fullest.

Everyone keeps asking, “When are the daffodils going to bloom?” Soon enough is what I want to say (their swan necks are bent into position). But isn’t it lovely that they’re taking their time? (I think their actually on time!) I find it much easier to appreciate (and find) the tiniest and prettiest now than when the whole trumpet section starts blaring (not that I’m not blown away by that). And it’s easier to notice the other beauties like the multicolored foliage emerging on the false spiraea (Sorbaria sorbifolia ‘Sem’), butterbur (Petasites japonicus) in full bloom, buds swelling on the Cornelian cherry (Cornus mas), the burgundy leaves spiking native honeysuckle vines, and dawn viburnum (Viburnum x bodnantense ‘Dawn’) still blooming away.

One of our volunteers this morning also pointed out the stark beauty of our gardens, freshly tidied, almost empty looking but chock full of potential. She’s totally right – they’re gorgeous, though it’s harder to tell from a photo. If you can squint though you can almost see a long glorious and colorful season ahead…

Chilly weather this week should help to hold this thought. But as soon as we get another warm run of days like we had last weekend everything will begin to rush madly further into spring. If you’re trying to plan a trip around the daffodils’ peak, I would say come sometime around mid-April. But if you’re like me and hate to miss anything, including the gorgeousness of not-quite-there-yet, come now. And then come often.

Why buy something when you can make it? Especially when you can make it so much more interesting and unique? Our wreath classes sell out every year to people who want to hang something on their front door that will be unlike anyone else’s. A handmade wreath is as special as a snowflake. And so much prettier than anything store-bought.

The greens this year came almost exclusively from Blithewold trees (all but the balsam) and were an unusual assortment that included Moss cypress (Chamaecyparis picifera ‘Squarrosa’), Hinoki cypress (C. obtusa), yew (Taxus baccata), and Japanese umbrella pine (Sciadopitys verticillata). And the method we teach is easy – just wind a continuous loop of wire (we use 22 gauge florist wire) around the frame attaching small bundles of greens as you go. All in the same direction, covering the stems bundle by bundle until the last stems tuck under the first. Piece of cake!

The trick is finding greens. If you don’t have an interesting assortment in your own garden, you might consider that as you peruse the plant catalogs this winter and shop the nurseries next spring. In the meantime, do not be tempted to pick anything without permission, no matter where you are. Rhode Island actually has a Christmas Greens Law (State of R.I. & Providence Plantations, Chapter 15, General Laws 1956, 2-15-12 through 2-15-17) prohibiting picking anything on state property. (For a list of protected plants, click here.)  And for goodness sake, don’t use bittersweet berries because you’ll end up with that junk coming up in walkway and foundation cracks. If you or your generous neighbors don’t have evergreens in need of a trim, buy some from your favorite local nursery. (We always buy balsam for its Christmasy fragrance and because it’s stiff enough to use a backbone for each otherwise floppy bundle.) Even if you have to spend a little to make your wreath, it will be more amazing and special than anything mass produced by strangers. And if you’re like me and not particularly crafty on a daily basis, you might find that it’s also a great way to stretch your creative muscles and generate ideas for what else can be made for Christmas rather than bought.

Do you make your own wreaths or roping? How about Christmas gifts? Would you be willing to share your ideas and/or methods? (I’m still casting around for what to make this year as gifts – I can’t do terrariums again…)