Snow finally fell in measurable amounts (about 9″) over the weekend forcing us to take life a little more slowly. I think that’s what I love best about a snow days: permission to slow down and tuck in. Luckily I didn’t have anywhere I needed to be as the snow fell and I hope you didn’t either.

I was really starting to feel the need for a break even if it’s mostly psychological. A blank canvas can be paralyzing but I wonder if that’s just our brain’s way of slowing down to clear its slate too. As much as I don’t love the feeling when I’m staring dumbly at an empty page, I think I have come to rely on looking out at a blanketed garden over the winter in order to reboot my garden mind and fill it up with fresh ideas.

Even though our roads are clear and everyone has picked up the pace again, this morning I cashed in on the novelty of the snow – and its abbreviated lifespan (melting already with rain on the way) and spent some time staring at it’s blanking blanket – and noticing how the canvas is framed.

Has your garden been tucked under a blanket yet? How about you? Does snow cover help you mentally make a fresh start?

The other day Gail brought in an old book, Designing with Plants by the Dutch designer Piet Oudolf and Noël Kingsbury. As I flipped through it, a little lightbulb blinked. Oudolf says the best way to approach garden design is to consider the plant’s – or flowers’ – form first, then its leaves, and color dead last. I’m pretty sure my mind usually puzzles with design using the exact opposite sequence. Color first with leaves and form to follow. And I’ve been wondering why some of the garden jigsaws have been so difficult to solve.*

This time of year it’s a no brainer. Of course form and structure are more important than color. Color went a while ago; form can last longer. – I have to admit having a little ah-ha about why seedheads are so integral to Oudolf’s designs. (They’re not just about feeding the birds.) But at least lately I’ve been seeing the bones everywhere without needing the prompt, and wishing my own garden looked better naked.

I will also admit to you that I think I am in danger of being too obsessed with filling my garden with evergreens (not that I have many yet.) They definitely give the garden a certain winter weight, and they provide a lovely foil for the deciduous trees and shrubs whose naked form we might want to spotlight. But it’s exactly those plants that I think I have been in danger of forgetting about. I get all caught up in flower color and leaf shape and feel downright lucky if a plant’s winter form ends up being lovely too. Maybe this year I’ll put that requirement a little closer to the top of the list.

*Gail says we’ve had form in mind all along. True. But I hope that consciously making it the priority will be just the shift I need to get in gear and extra excited about planning this year’s gardens.

Are you finding any fresh inspiration or new ways of thinking about the garden this winter?

Ever since Gail and I went on a bus trip to Wave Hill – eight or so years ago – we’ve been coveting hypertufa troughs. A year or two after that trip we each made a couple, then a year later a couple more. After that, Fred and Dan made some, including the thyme bench seat in the herb bed and an enormous trough that might never leave the container bed. But we have wanted more. And there’s nothing like wanting something to make you notice it everywhere. They’ve been showing up in every magazine; there are books full of ideas; we’ve noticed them tucked into gardens and out in front and center displays, and they’re all over Kathy and Chris Tracy’s Avant Gardens Nursery, in all shapes and sizes filled with the most luscious combinations of plants.  We’re talking serious trough envy here.

So we hatched a plan to make a bunch more to fill our Display Garden stone bench bed (an abundance of anything in one place can make a gardener feel rich) and if we have enough left over, we’ll tuck them in other beds here and there. We might even leave some on display in front of the pump house because they’re so sweet against the cobbles.

For anyone who isn’t already familiar with hypertufa, it’s a Portland cement mixture that is meant to mimic something called tufa, which is a precipitated limestone (according to wikipedia). Being porous and high pH both real tufa and the ersatz version is a perfect container material for alpines among other little lovelies. It’s also sturdy enough to stay outside over the winter and not quite as heavy to move around as straight concrete.

Gail and I obsessively researched recipes – there are many possible variations – and for our first go we tried two. Both included Portland cement and peat. One batch had perlite, the other vermiculite. To those mixes we also added a handful of microfiber concrete reinforcement and then a whole lot of water. We also obsessively collected molds, everything from a saucer sled to nursery pots to trash cans to jello molds to cardboard boxes.

Now that we’ve done one batch and are preparing for another morning spent wearing rubber gloves and dust masks, we know what we’ll do differently. This time we’ll go with the vermiculite mix – it feels smoother to the touch and more elegant. We’ll also line more of our molds in plastic bags. Even molds heavily greased with vegetable oil didn’t want to give up their stuff. Luckily, almost all of the pots and troughs we made were sturdy enough after curing for 4 days to knock out of their molds. (Only one will live inside its aluminum jello mold forever.) The cardboard boxes were the easiest to release and those troughs are actually pretty cool looking.

Our recipe: 1 part Portland cement; 1.5 parts peat moss; 1.5 parts vermiculite and a small amount of microfiber concrete reinforcement. Add enough water to make mud the consistency of cottage cheese.

Have you made any hypertufa pots or troughs or garden ornaments? Do you have any helpful hints to share – or maybe a different favorite recipe?