Nature has her own ways of doing things and her own timing. There’s no predicting it. — It hadn’t occurred to us last August when we ordered bulbs that squirrels would be acorn deprived and tulip-hungry this year. We had no idea after so many years mouse-free in the greenhouse that they’d be back. And we had no way of knowing when setting the date for Daffodil Days last year that they might bloom extra-early this year. Nature keeps us on our toes and all we can do is go with the flow and enjoy the ride.

There’s no fighting the likelihood of an early spring (despite another dusting of snow) so we’re going with it and rescheduling our celebrations to (hopefully) more closely match Nature’s timing. We will hustle to be open for the season and Daffodil Days starting April 1.

As for this being the year of the rodent here at Blithewold, all we can do is roll with the punches and get smarter. We’ve ordered extra spring bloomers to fill in any tulip-shaped gaps. (The squirrels didn’t eat them all so we’ll be sure to spray or dust the survivors with deer repellent.) And we’re doing our darnedest to keep the mice out of the seeds by covering the seedling trays with weighted upside-down trays. Fingers crossed. And I’m sorry to say it but because we can’t grow the gardens we’re known for without these plants, we have also brought out the big guns: poison bait. No dogs allowed in the greenhouse until further notice. (And after that, by invitation only, as per usual.)

When change is good it’s easy to adapt to it. Assistant grounds manager, Dan Christina has joined Dick in managing the vegetable garden. He has drawn a beautiful plan, dug trenches for the asparagus that Dick has been asking for forever, started working on a brilliant array of staking methods and support structures, and will help keep us all to a schedule of extra-productive succession planting and harvests. We’re pretty excited.

Any changes, welcome or not, in your garden? Will you have to hustle to be ready for an early spring too?

I really don’t know what to make of this season. The last few days have been in the bird-song-balmy 50′s but we woke this morning to fat flakes. They have already turned to freezing rain and I would say we have finally turned the corner from a spring-like winter to a winter-like spring. It’s been really tempting to jump the gun on spring – Gail and I haven’t been able to stay out of the garden tidying up. And we’re not the only ones: the autumn blooming cherry (Prunus subhirtella ‘Autumnalis’) has a hair-trigger for spring too. Poor thing is blooming away, again, in the snow. Might not look like much in actual spring this year and it will be interesting to see if any tiny cherries develop. (The bees might have been on it in the last few days anyway.)

I know it’s springter and the official start of the garden-calendar year because we sowed the sweet peas this week, right on a President’s day schedule. (Washington’s birthday to be exact.) We haven’t gotten all of our seeds in yet so we started the ones I ordered from Unwins and a few I was offered for free from Renee’s Garden (I’m on a free-trial list through my Garden Writers Assoc. membership.) Even if we had purchased them, which we have in the past, I would have to say that Renee has some of my favorite varieties (Blue Celeste, Watermelon, Cupani’s Original) and is very generous with her seeds. I like that. The more sweet peas the better especially since they seem to be tempting to our newest greenhouse tenant. It’s been a while since we’ve had mice and I’m not sure what I’ll do if they work their way through a top and bottom barrier of appropriated row-cover cloth.

We started the sweet peas in cowpots, and rather than nick or soak the seeds (I inevitably ruin seeds and destroy my fingers by trying to snip or file the seedcoat off) we simply sow them about a 1/4″ down, put them in our coolest greenhouse, and wait. Our mouse unearthed evidence that they are already beginning to swell out of their coat. In another week or two, any that remain uneaten should begin to emerge.

Are you sowing sweet peas this year? What marks the start of your garden-calendar year?

Going by the calendar it seems too soon to be out in the garden tidying up but it’s awfully hard to resist when the weather is warm, the birds are singing, and all signs point to spring. Yesterday was just about the first chance Gail and I have had to get reacquainted with the Display Garden. We got a jump on cutting back everything that was starting to self-destruct: the grasses were beginning to blow themselves around the property; teasel had fallen over like drunken giants and most of the salvias looked like someone had sat on them. It couldn’t have been the snow… Verbena bonariensis and sea holly aren’t handsome anymore and the butterfly weed was mostly flattened too so we cut all of those down. Any pretty seedheads still standing we left for later.

After getting a good look at the garden we have a better idea of what probably survived the winter and what we’ll need to reorder – perfect timing because we’ll put our first plant orders in next week. I had decided last summer that I could never garden again without Muhlenbergia capillaris and looked forward to knowing if it was going to prove hardy here. Unfortunately the voles couldn’t live without it either. I’m sure that it would have survived the winter if it hadn’t been eaten to nubs so it’s going back on the wishlist.

We also couldn’t resist going back inside for our annual seed swap lunch with some great friends, one of whom is a self-proclaimed “propagating fool” who can’t pass a plant that has gone to seed without collecting pocketfuls. The swap is always just the excuse we need to go through our seed cupboard. Gail found a few forgotten unsown treasures and lots of saved keepers. The closer we come to spring, the readier we are to have at it.

You too? Have you gotten reacquainted with your garden yet? Have you participated in a seed swap? (Did anyone bring a tin of cookies?)

Just in time for winter to finally look and feel more like a proper winter, Gail and I are sliding headfirst towards spring. We started the new year by looking through magazine back issues for inspiration. (Do you do that too? It’s as if I never saw them before – and in some cases I hadn’t. Who has time to read anything in May and June – or October for that matter?) And in the last couple of weeks we’ve moved along to seed catalogs. At first it seemed like there was nothing new and then suddenly everything old was new again and everything forgotten was remembered fondly and wanted desperately. The more we go through the catalogs making choices, the more our momentum and excitement builds, so much that it’s hard to know when to quit.

Same thing with taking cuttings – but then I always have a hard time not taking more than we need if there are more to take. I started whacking back the scented geraniums (Pelargonium, that is) yesterday and it’s a good thing we have a plan for these next year, because we’ll have plenty of plants now thanks to me being obsessive about sticking every possible cutting.

Pelargonium are so easy to root and now is a fine time if you haven’t cut yours back yet. Take the growing tips and prepare them by cutting below the second or third leaf node from the tip. Cut that leaf off right at the stem and then place the cutting end-out of a plastic bag for a day. They root more reliably if the wound has a chance to callous first. Once the cut looks dry and slightly crusted, dust or dip it in rooting hormone and stick in dampened perlite, vermiculite or sand – whatever you like to use for rooting. If the remaining leaves are large, cut them in half to reduce transpiration. Keep them out of direct sun and the  medium from drying out. A few weeks waiting should do the trick.

Are you sliding down a slippery slope to spring too? Are you ordering more seeds or taking more cuttings yet than you have room for?

I’m still on seedheads. Yesterday afternoon Gail and I attended a workshop on propagating Rhody Natives (in caps because it’s an initiative spearheaded by the RI Natural History Survey and the New England Wildflower Society to get commercial nurseries involved in propagating Rhode Island’s own native plants both for conservation projects and to sell in garden centers. Really exciting stuff.) We learned a few tricks from Kate Pawling, plant propagator at Nasami Farm Nursery, Harry Chase a wholesale grower in Portsmouth, RI, and Dr. Bryan Maynard, professor of horticulture at URI.

So much about propagation involves a kind of science that makes my artist’s right-brain spin but when it comes right down to it, the most important thing is to simply pay attention to the way the plant works. For instance, plants native to New England that set seed in the spring need a warm stratification period before a cold one to germinate. Interestingly, a lot of spring seeds cannot be stored dry. Some plants, like native ginger (Asarum canadense) coat their seeds in a fatty substance ants love to eat and when they’re finished they discard the cleaned seed in their rubbish pile, which happens to be a perfectly situated nutrient rich place for a new plant to grow. For best results, spring seeds should be sown as soon as possible after collection. Makes perfect sense.

The opposite may be true of fall-set seeds. They often have a tough seed coat that needs to go through winter’s freeze and thaw cycle to crack and germinate. Try to sow them without stratification and they probably won’t come to anything. By leaving seedheads up in the garden to ripen we’re giving Nature the chance to do it her way and we love seeing where they’ll sow themselves next. Whenever we want to take the reins, we just need to mimic nature’s processes as much as possible.

At Nasami farm, Kate sows seeds in December, covers the trays in quartz filter sand to suppress moss growth (it still lets light in for the seeds that need it), puts the flats in a cold greenhouse, and makes sure the soil temperature in the trays hovers just below freezing. The only tricky thing she does is pay close attention to soil and water pH. When Harry sowed his Rhody Native seeds last year, he treated them with the same TLC he gives his commercial crops of annuals and perennials, kept them from freezing and nearly killed them with kindness.

Have you tried sowing wild seeds? Did you give them the tough love they require? Would you buy more locally grown native plants if they were available?