Yesterday was the kind of day that made me feel very sorry for anyone stuck indoors. High 60s, sunny blue sky, birds singing, bees buzzing: Exactly the kind of short-sleeves day we all desperately crave when it’s hot as blazes or when it’s bone-chilling cold out. Exactly the kind of day best spent soaking up the warmth of the sun, sucking up the scent of the fragrant honeysuckle (Lonicera fragrantissima), and getting the garden cut back, and roses pruned and transplanted. Which is exactly how Gail, Tricia — our new garden intern, and I spent our day.

Your employer should thank me for suggesting that the very next time a day like that is forecast for a work day (tomorrow by the looks of it), you call in well and get your body outside. Disregard the calendar, quit worrying too much about the pendulum swinging, and cut back the buddleia, lespedeza and caryopteris. Go for it. It’s time and it will do you good to get out and enjoy it.

So what will you do on the next blue day? I’ll feel better if you tell me you’ll at least be able to open the windows, and will try to invent excuses, like a friend of mine did yesterday, to take some mini-walks around the neighborhood…

I also think it would be good for you — and good for your garden — to plan on taking another day off on Thursday, April 5 to attend a day of lectures on Planting for the Future by Doug Tallamy, author of Bringing Nature Home, and Warren Leach, brilliant landscape designer and co-owner of Tranquil Lake Nursery. I have heard both of them speak several times and they always keep me at the edge of my seat: Doug with his fervent call to arm our gardens with certain native plants in order to recreate a working ecosystem; and Warren with inspirational design ideas that show that environmentally friendly gardens can still be highly ornamental and sublimely lovely. Please come if you possibly can.

Every year around this time Gail, our friend Mary Ann, and I plan a trip to Logee’s greenhouses in Danielson, CT. It’s not far away — no more than an hour and a half from here but it feels like an excursion. It’s our tropical vacation. If you haven’t heard of Logee’s check out their website and order their catalog. But I warn you: if you love houseplants or tropicals even a little bit, it’s dangerous. If you live anywhere within 300 miles or so, visit the actual greenhouses. They are antique, totally funky, deliciously warm, and beautifully overgrown with hundred-plus year-old plants growing in the ground, blooming and fruiting gangbusters. Every plant, for sale or not, is astoundingly healthy. The plants for sale are tiny cuttings, which makes it all too easy to palm a dozen and they are dear (read expensive) but so worth it. Like a fabulous pair of new shoes: a splurge. But that’s why we limit our visits to once a year.

This year we had a rare treat. The proprietors, Byron and Laurelynn Martin, gave us a grand tour that included their research and mother-plant house – one of the old greenhouses in back. It was chock-full of blooming begonias and plants that they’re still figuring out how to grow like mango and cocoa – both had fruit. In Connecticut! They gave us tastes of crazy things (miracle fruit for one) and tips on how to propagate the seed. (I’ll let you know how that goes.)

They also gave us a tour of their brand new state-of-the-art production and shipping greenhouse out back. Entering Logee’s retail space, you’d almost never know that there is a booming-huge mail-order business behind the scenes. But they send out as many as 300 orders a day during peak times. It’s hard to imagine where they worked before the new facility was built because this space, which must be about an acre, was full to the gills and run like a very tight ship. Byron gave us an enthusiastic rundown of their scientifically monitored and orchestrated – and fascinating biological controls. There were packets of good bugs that feed on the bad ones and certain plants grown just to keep other good bugs growing. They hardly use any chemical pesticides at all anymore. He allowed as how it is more expensive but much better for generations of plants and people in the long run. And it’s clear that Byron and Laurelynn are, and already have been in this business for the long run.

Do you ever allow yourself a Logee’s splurge?

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?