For this mid-May Garden Bloggers Bloom Day hosted by Carol at May Dreams Gardens, I’m going to postpone the usual list of all of the amazing things that are blooming suddenly all at once and go into euphoric raptures about a single fantastic genus that has been blooming for a while now. One of them even kept last year’s blooms all winter.

Of all 2000 odd species of euphorbia in the world, we only have a half-dozen or so on the property. In a way that’s plenty because the ones we have are pretty great, and on the other hand it’s not nearly enough because who wouldn’t want more?

At the top of my favorite spurges list is Euphorbia x martinii ‘Ascot Rainbow’. Not only does it have stunning multi-colored foliage and fabulously intricate flying-saucer blooms but it looked fabulous through the winter. In fact, it still looked so good this spring that we weren’t sure if we should cut it back. We decided to cut a few plants here and there to within a couple inches of the ground, and we left a few standing, and are planning on using their older stems for arrangements. That’s one of the greatest things about euphorbia: they make really great nearly ever-lasting cut flowers.

Euphorbia amygdaloides ‘Purpurea’ (below left) spreads generously (rhizomatously) in shade but we have it in full sun too in the Rose Garden. We transplanted bunches of it around from underneath the chestnut rose and it pouted for a good year (or was it two?) before finally looking stunningly settled. Never give up on a euphorbia. Last year we also planted ‘Craigieburn’ (below right) in the cutting garden I think I like that one even better for the subtle range of colors in its foliage and the extra acid in the green of its flowers.

E. longifolia (below left) has been seeding itself around the North Garden and Display Garden for years, which is great because we always have the option of using it where it lands or hoiking it out to make room for something else. After it blooms (it stands about 2′ tall) we cut it back hard to encourage a new flush later in the summer. That’s a dangerous job because the sap of this one seems particularly caustic. Anyone who has ever gotten a bright red burning and wicked-itchy rash from spurge learns pretty quickly to wear body armor to work with it.

The cushion spurge (E. polychroma – above right) in the Rock Garden hasn’t self-sowed although it’s supposed to and I wish it would. It’s too cute. We also have ‘Bonfire’, which has bright orange blooms and red foliage, up in the Display Garden but we don’t have it in enough sun to show itself off properly.

I could go on because we also grow sticks-on-fire pencil cactus and crown-of-thorns in the greenhouse and those go to show how varied the genus can be. But I’m stuck on spurges. Which ones do you grow – or wish you did? For a look at what else is bloom (besides euphorbia) all over the country and the world, click on the links listed here.

I can’t think of a better way to spend a record-breaking official first day of spring than playing musical plants out in the garden. At home I move plants around usually because I didn’t put them in the right place in the first place. (Left to my own devices, I’m an incurable plunker). But here we move plants to change things up every year – as well as to get them in the right place. Plants’ sweet spots always want finessing even if you’ve given it careful thought.

The trick to playing musical plants this early in the season is to have an excellent memory – or to have taken really good notes – or to have left labels.

I always forget how difficult it is to identify perennials at this stage, as they’re just starting to emerge, or if they’re still just a gnarl of knobby crown at the surface. And it’s like an eye-test to find them under the shredded leaf mulch before stepping on them.

It’s also really important to remember, when you can identify the tiny sprigs emerging from a fist-sized crown, exactly how big the plant is likely to get. We want an intensely planted garden but we also want to make sure plants have room to grow without being sat upon by something else. I’ll freely admit to being guilty of “mis-under-estimating” in order to fit more in. Sometimes combinations work anyway and sometimes we have to move things around again next spring. But if the garden was always the same we’d get bored. Wouldn’t you?

I’m pretty excited about some of the changes in the Display Garden. Today I went from being worried that holding onto our theme of planting for the pollinators would keep the Display Garden looking too much the same, to being sure that it will look fabulously new and different this year. And we probably only moved a dozen plants around in there so far. Sometimes it doesn’t take much to make a garden exciting again. The same is true at home: as soon as I transplant one thing to the right spot I get jazzed about the whole season.

Do you get a move on in the spring too? Do you move plants so the garden will look different every year or to finesse perfection?

Speaking of getting a move on, the daffodils are. I’d hate for you to miss any of the show and it’s just beginning so here’s the first official daff-cam shot.

Even though the mansion won’t be open until April 1, the grounds are open daily (year-round.) Come see for yourself.

A little more than a month ago in a post about potting bench perfection I mentioned that our potting bench was in a sorry state and that the windows above it were drafty heat-leakers. No longer true! Gail and I are thrilled to be cozy behind a bank of new storm windows and can’t get over the beauty of the shiny new stainless-steel bench topper that one of our favorite carpenters installed in about 2 seconds yesterday.

Winter is definitely the best time for dreaming about projects and for being able to follow through with minimal disruption to the day to day workings, or the visitors’ enjoyment of the property. It was easy for us to clear the bench because we’re more focused on putting our orders together right now than potting up.

And because there are fewer visitors on the property this time of year, we can get to some changes outside too. The North Garden wall repair was completed in record time and has provided us (the gardens and grounds staff) with an excellent opportunity to ask the gardens and grounds committee to consider a few of our ideas. We’d like to re-size some of the beds, improve the soil, add irrigation, and lay a path that will tie the floating fountain, which at one time had been the punctuation at the end of a bowling green, back to the garden. With spring clearly closer than it usually is this time of year, it looks like this next project might get rolling soon. We hope all of Blithewold’s members, visitors, and brides think it’s an improvement.

Are you using this time to make some improvements to home and garden too?

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?