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Archive for the spring tag

April is an opening movement in a spring symphony

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April is like the opening movement of a slow and gentle spring symphony, a cluster of crocus here, a ripple of daffodils there, the soft mist of blue scilla under the oak, with diminuendos of delicate wildflowers, and the occasional somber note of hellebores.

Neighbors, whom we have not seen all winter, emerge from hibernation on the first warm day, and we tell each other how glad we are that we are still alive and that spring is finally here.

For me though, spring pleasures begin much earlier, when the first cut daffodils and tulips appear in the stores. Every week I buy a bunch of tulips and watch them change from tense, tight creatures to voluptuous stars, opening wide and saluting the world. This week’s lot are scarlet, and when I first put them in water they were all droopy, but after a night’s drinking they pulled themselves to attention like so many soldiers and grew bigger, puffed up with grandeur. Now they are flaunting themselves like ballerinas bowing to an audience and the outside base of their petals is gold. The leaves have turned from dark green to paler and are curving in sympathy with the blossoms. By week’s end, they will be worn and weary and it will be time to choose the next color—orange or pink or yellow.

Spring pleasures begin for me much earlier when the first cut daffodils and tulips appear in the stores.
Spring pleasures begin for me much earlier when the first cut daffodils and tulips appear in the stores.

Sometimes too I buy bright yellow daffodils and the house is filled with instant sunshine, or I bring in a bunch of dead-looking forsythia twigs from the garden and in no time at all they burst into golden stars. For an extra treat, spend an afternoon at the Detroit Institute of Arts with the Dutch flower paintings of spring flowers, including those beautiful bicolored, ruffled tulips (purple with green and orange with cream) as well as iris, primrose and narcissus. The colors are so vivid they look as though they have just been painted.

But what do you do in February when icy winds whip the garden and everything is brown and dreary and lifeless? I dove into plant catalogs and was particularly excited by a golden smoke tree (Cotinus coggygria ‘Golden Spirit’), a lovely lemon-leaved weigela, and some stunning new hydrangeas. Once again I became determined to try the various daphnes for leaf, flower and fragrance. One of the easiest is ‘Carol Mackie’ (Daphne x burkwoodii). Consider the liberal use of outstanding foliage interplanted with both perennials and annuals, giving a tropical feel to the garden, even in colder areas. 

My next spring pleasure is visiting the garden stores to see what is new in pots, window boxes, garden furniture, sculpture and tools. There is everything from tiny flower pots, old tools and wire planters to sundials, wrought iron and wicker furniture, as well as sculptures from both here and overseas. Old is not necessarily better, so browse around and find wonderful European glazed pots, terra cotta from Greece, willow seats and arches from England, or wonderful American garden furniture and furnishings. I rather like the pseudo terra cotta, fiberglass planters that look like the real thing but are lightweight, and more importantly for our climate, frost-resistant so you don’t have to haul them into the garage in the fall. They make marvelous containers, particularly for shrubs and perennials.

While you are looking, check out the new seeds and bulbs. More and more organic vegetable seeds are available as well as wildflowers, perennials and annuals. There are poppies to delight us: the Shirleys, Icelands, Flanders and Orientals, and I noticed a double dark red, almost black poppy. Look for black in hollyhocks, pansies, fritillarias, and even very dark purple roses and almost black peonies. If you want to keep up with the English royals, plant a black and white garden like Charles did at his glorious Highgrove property.

So what is left for early spring? Reading catalogs, starting vegetable and annual seeds, ordering plants, reading, dreaming and waiting. It’s almost time to get out into the yard and even as I write this in March there are signs of warmer weather. The migrant birds are back, red wing blackbirds, the titmouse, swans, geese and herons. Last week in Ann Arbor I saw a carpet of snowdrops under a tree, and there is a scattering of crocus, aconites and dwarf iris (Iris reticulata) in the garden.

Soon the first fresh Michigan asparagus will be ready and all the abundance, glory and color of spring stretch ahead of us in days of endless sun, flowers, light nights and warmth. What bliss!

Christine Jamieson gardens in Oakland County, MI.

Springtime: Reassurgence in the garden

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Will I ever in my lifetime feel sure at spring? After decades of observation, I still find myself on pins and needles wondering about certain plants and events in the springtime. Shouldn’t this one be back up by now? Weren’t there more of that one last year—did I take some out or what happened? What I did last fall—has it helped or hurt?

One part of me wants to figure it out and stop this worrying and wondering. Another thrills at the suspense, grows on the nervous tension, and learns a bit each year. Here I’ll tell you about some of the recurring questions I’ve put to rest. If you are like me—in need of reassurance at this resurgent season—these things, at least, you can be sure of…

Assurance #1: The bees will be there—on time, every time

A garden’s bloom season may begin on a different calendar date each year, as winter wraps up early or late. Yet on the day the first flower opens in your garden, bees will be there to sip its nectar. I was awed by the bees’ appearance the first time I saw my earliest crocus (C. minimus) on its first day. Since then, having seen it happen many times, the awe has mellowed but never left me.

I am assured bees will find the first flower, or that aphids will appear on the first succulent spirea shoots, and locust plant bugs will emerge as their host plants break bud. Each insect species has honed its timing through thousands of generations, so that they dance to the same tune as the plants they depend upon.

In both plant and insect, internal meters begin to run at the freeze that ends one season, accumulating time toward the wake-up bell for the next. On each day that temperatures rise above 40, for however many hours they hover there, insect eggs and larvae move forward in their development and plant cells chip away at chemicals that built up during fall as insurance against any resumption of growth before a safe time. In a related heat-registry, overwintering adult insects reckon safe emergence time. We humans have observed and recorded this timing in total degrees and hours, and converted it to “degree days.” At agricultural university Extension offices where such information is vital, we start our own meters at fall’s end to mark these units of time and say, for example, “Ah ha, 220 degree days have accumulated. Usually that happens about May 7 but this year it’s early…at any rate, it’s now time to look for honey locust plant bugs appearing from their wintering state.”

It’s an exquisite timing, particular to every region and microclimate. Degree days stack up more quickly one block uphill from me in Jack’s yard, which sheds its cold air downslope to pool in mine. So his crocus may open sooner than mine, and so too will the bees wintering in niches in his yard.

Do the first crocuses call the bees? Do the first bees tease the earliest flowers into opening? No, they've simply both tuned their springtime wake-up alarms to the same degree day.
Do the first crocuses call the bees? Do the first bees tease the earliest flowers into opening? No, they’ve simply both tuned their springtime wake-up alarms to the same degree day.

Assurance #2: Bugs will get ahead of you

So is it any wonder that even when we promise a favorite plant we’ll watch out for it next year, its predators find its new growth before we do? Insects and animals that rely on a plant are out there 24/7, awaiting or directly linked to their particular prey. As weekend warriors, we can’t beat that.

We can stay even by keeping sight of two facts, however. One, for most plant eaters, emergence coincides with their own plant’s new growth. Two, baby bugs are easier to kill than older, tougher individuals. Someone who told you they controlled aphids on a viburnum by, “just dousing it with the rinse water after I washed dishes,” was not telling tales even though this tactic may have failed in your yard. Apply soap (over-the-counter insecticidal soap spray or water plus dish soap) when the viburnum is just budding out and the day-old skins of its aphids will dry and split. Spray it on week-old aphids and those hardened veterans may break out loofah sponges and begin a chorus of Singin’ in the Rain.

Don’t let this news get you down. Most plants can manage despite the chewing, sucking or scraping of their usual predators. If they look worn or tattered as a result but have lost less than 20 percent of their leaf surface, they’ve suffered only cosmetic damage. That can be ignored or grown over. Meanwhile, insects such as ladybugs and lacewings that eat other insects are also engaged in the degree day dance. They’ll emerge in time to capitalize on their own prey’s development.

I do very little in the way of bug killing, but quite a bit of bug encouraging. That is, I avoid insecticide and allow insect-sheltering debris to overwinter in order to have the continued presence of species we recognize as beneficial insects. Out in a garden where hundreds or even thousands of insect species live, there are 8 or 9 species of beneficials for every 1 or 2 plant-damaging insect species. These good guys do little or no damage to plants—for instance, they may dine on pollen—but many attack, parasitize or eat other insects.

In addition, I keep my plants healthy by putting them where they can grow most vigorously. Such plants are better equipped to produce the distasteful, deterrent and downright deadly chemicals their species have devised to thwart their predators.

Butterfly bush is a tough customer if it's grown where it belongs: in a sunny, sandy, well-drained and even dry spot. Cut it all you want whenever you want—you won't kill it. However, it's likely to be dying before you even cut it back in spring if it was planted where the drainage is poor.
Butterfly bush is a tough customer if it’s grown where it belongs: in a sunny, sandy, well-drained and even dry spot. Cut it all you want whenever you want—you won’t kill it. However, it’s likely to be dying before you even cut it back in spring if it was planted where the drainage is poor.

Assurance #3: Dead wood will fool the unsuspecting eye

As plants’ internally-concocted potions can dissuade insects and grazers, so can guilt turn people off from gardening. Don’t let it happen to you.

Lots of gardeners are more concerned about the damage they themselves have done, than what insects may do. “I pruned my butterfly bush at the wrong time and killed it,” is a common cry in this crowd. Let this spring mark the end of that lament, if it’s been voiced in your yard.

I can assure you that you cannot kill a butterfly bush (Buddleia davidii) by cutting it back in early spring, even to stubs an inch above ground, even removing all its wood that was beginning to bud out.

You can, however, cut a dead or dying butterfly bush and then blame yourself. If you’re in zone 5 or a warmer (higher number) zone and the bush was healthy last fall, it will be able to grow from one-inch stubs to 4 or 5 feet tall, and quickly, too.

If the bush is not healthy—particularly if it’s being grown in soil that’s overly moist or poorly drained—its crown and roots are susceptible to rot, which takes hold during winter and consumes the live tissue as spring ensues.

Another factor to consider is that some varieties of butterfly bush are not as hardy as others. In my experience, ‘Dark Knight’ is not to be trusted, whereas ‘Nanho Blue’ can probably handle even zone 4 cold if it’s given a well-drained, sandy site.

Roses prick gardeners with guilt too. I’ve watched for decades as roses are pruned at various times and stages of development, looking for proof that we “should not prune them too early.” In one instance, I checked in throughout the season on a public garden of several hundred roses pruned by a single horticulturist over a three-week period that included the “too early” days before forsythia bloom, and saw no ill effect.

As with butterfly bush, a rose may be dead or dying by pruning time. When we learn to look at the base of stems and crown of a shrub for signs of life such as moist, green cambium under the bark and white cores in branches, we will recognize deadwood when we cut it and be free of self reproach.

Assurance #4: Slow starters will start when you give up

Something else gardeners have a tough time accepting is the lateness of plants like hardy hibiscus (Hibiscus moscheutos), butterfly weed (Asclepias tuberosa), balloon flower (Platycodon), perennial ageratum (Conoclinium coelestinum), and groundcover plumbago (Ceratostigma plumbaginoides). These plants, big contributors to late summer bloom, all take their sweet time to emerge, avoiding the cold weather their new growth cannot tolerate by remaining dormant many degree days later than other plants.

So it’s a sure thing in spring that we will give up on one or another of these, give in to the urge to buy more plants, plant something “to replace” what we assume has failed, and soon after have two plants duking it out over the same space.

In fact, degree days may not be the only determinant of a slow starter’s emergence from winter rest. It could be that honest despair is a tonic to them, for they almost always pop up the day after a gardener has given up all hope, pouring his or her sense of loss down on that ground.

Ironically, this error can lead to a better garden. If you chance to buy the right type of plant and set it to grow where you believe the balloon flower or other supposed failure lies, you may produce a fine double-up. That is, if you plant an early riser that tends to nap through summer (early blooming bulbs, for instance), or a tap-rooted, spring-blooming species where a shallow-rooted character tallies (oriental poppy with hibiscus, for example), or a shallow-root spring bloomer with a deep-root sleepyhead (Sedum spurium with balloon flower), the two may go on happily for years together.

Balloon flower is late to emerge, but worth the wait.
Balloon flower is late to emerge, but worth the wait.
Hardy hibiscus (H. moscheutos and its hybrids) often sleeps in until late May. It doesn't mind another plant's foliage occupying its air space in April and May, and its shallow roots can straddle deep-rooted spring bulbs such as daffodil and quamash (Camassia).
Hardy hibiscus (H. moscheutos and its hybrids) often sleeps in until late May. It doesn’t mind another plant’s foliage occupying its air space in April and May, and its shallow roots can straddle deep-rooted spring bulbs such as daffodil and quamash (Camassia).

Assurance #5: You’ll estimate wrong about the mulch you need

Another thing that goes on for years is ordering too much or too little mulch. We might get it right at first guess, then think, “But didn’t I use that much last year, even before adding the two new beds?” Or we might announce our intention to another member of the household who undermines our confidence by asking, “That much? Are you sure you need that much?”

Since too much or too little is more rule than exception, cover your bases. When you have the mulch delivered, don’t let it be dumped right in front of the garage door. Not unless you want to hear long-suffering sighs from family members for weeks, along the lines, “I wishI could put my car in the garage!“

Likewise, in a move to ward off an unwelcome impact on your days that can follow the spreading of too little mulch, always begin mulching in beds that you see every day. Leave the farthest beds for last. Then, if the mulch runs out before all bare soil is covered, the exposed ground will not glare at you every day for the week or two that inevitably separates mulching opportunities one and two.

When the mulch truck arrives, temper your optimism about how long it will take to spread. Don't dump the pile where it will block your garage door.
When the mulch truck arrives, temper your optimism about how long it will take to spread. Don’t dump the pile where it will block your garage door.

Assurance #6: The weather will conspire against you

One reason mulch follow-up rarely follows right on the heel of a mulch shortfall is the uncooperative nature of weather. If you chance to be gifted with a clear, cool day on the weekend or the day off work you chose for mulching, the next two picks you make will turn out to be filled with rain or sleet. Unless you garden in the Desert Southwest where weather reports are unnecessary because every day is sunny and dry, buy some rain gear. If you use it only once, you will still be glad. There’s a lot to be gained simply from telling the tale of working in the rain. Be sure to take a picture of you behind the wheelbarrow in the rain suit.

Another way that weather will do you in, but one in which you will probably be a co-conspirator, is in killing dahlias, elephant ears and caladiums. Although these roots you harvested last fall stored best through winter at 50 degrees, they won’t grow well now in soil that cool.

It’s a mistake to plant them outdoors before crabgrass season—about June 1 in my neighborhood—when the soil reaches 60 degrees. Once the tuber or corm you plant softens in the ground preparatory to sprouting, it’s susceptible to fungal attack in cold soil. Once the shoot begins to grow, the plant’s even more likely to be injured or infected. Such a plant may die, or limp into summer as a weakling.

If you’re itching to do something with those dahlia tubers or corms of elephant ear or caladium, divide any clumps now. Cut away any rotted sections. To be viable, a dahlia division must have a bit of last year’s stem included.

Then put just an inch of moist potting mix into a pot that’s eight inches deep or deeper, set the root in and add just enough potting mix to cover it. Put the pot in a warm place—no light needed—and check on it every few days. Your aim should be to keep it barely moist and to note when the shoot begins to grow. Once you see that, add more moist potting soil an inch at a time. Let the shoot show itself, cover it under an inch of potting mix, let it poke its tip up again and blanket it once more, until it reaches the top of the pot. Then put the pot into full sun. This process keeps you occupied for the last few weeks of unsettled weather and keeps the plant warm while it develops a stout shoot.

I hope you kept your dahlia, canna, caladiums and other clumps of tender perennials intact over winter. Divide them only when it's time to replant. Undivided clumps (dahlia, at left) store better with less chance of rot, just as a bruise-free potato or whole onion stores best. The canna (right) was cut before storage and has rotted sections.
I hope you kept your dahlia, canna, caladiums and other clumps of tender perennials intact over winter. Divide them only when it’s time to replant. Undivided clumps (dahlia, at left) store better with less chance of rot, just as a bruise-free potato or whole onion stores best. The canna (right) was cut before storage and has rotted sections.
When you divide, cut away any damaged section. This canna is more tolerant of cool soil than some tender perennial roots. Yet, why set it out early when the plant's best role is as a late summer filler?
When you divide, cut away any damaged section. This canna is more tolerant of cool soil than some tender perennial roots. Yet, why set it out early when the plant’s best role is as a late summer filler?
Elephant ears (Colocasia) don't grow well and may be stunted all summer if planted into cool soil. Delay outdoor planting of those that love warmth (caladium, dahlia, elephant ear, etc.) until the ground reaches 60 degrees, in June.
Elephant ears (Colocasia) don’t grow well and may be stunted all summer if planted into cool soil. Delay outdoor planting of those that love warmth (caladium, dahlia, elephant ear, etc.) until the ground reaches 60 degrees, in June.

Assurance #7: Blue and pink hydrangeas will disappoint you

Hydrangea failure is another weather-plus-gardener problem. Mophead hydrangeas (H. macrophylla) are not reliably bud hardy in continental zone 5. That means their roots and sometimes their stems survive winter but the buds often do not.

The problem there is that this species spends the latter half of summer preparing a bud that will be in shape to finish its growth and bloom the following July. If those buds, located at the tips of branches, die or are cut off, the plant begins over again but flowering-branch development is a lengthy process. It is very unlikely the shrub will be able to produce a blooming shoot between now and when fall ends its season.

Sometimes winter kills the buds. You can tell right now if that happened. Consider yourself fortunate and the plant placed well if the bud at the tip of the branch is alive. You’ll know that’s the case if it’s plump and moist. Such a bud probably just pushed its protective scales aside to begin to grow again. If it’s dried out, dead or gone, don’t expect any bloom. Your placement of the plant is to blame. You can try shifting it to a spot in your garden where a warmer, more humid microclimate prevails in winter.

You see, even if a blue or pink hydrangea’s buds made it through winter, they’re not out of the woods yet. Weather steps to the fore. Often, as surviving buds open in spring, they’re killed by late frost. If that happens, loop back two paragraphs and read “If those buds…” because the weather’s kicked the plant back to that start-over point.

How is this dismal news reassuring? It is because it can save a gardener months of suspense that end in disappointment. Look now and be reassured by the condition of the tip buds whether there’s any chance for bloom. If there is, keep a cloth sheet on hand and cover the shrub to trap some ground warmth on frosty spring nights. If you’re attentive it may yet keep its tips and bloom.

The tip bud on a mophead hydrangea branch. It survived winter and is beginning to grow in spring, but has one last hurdle to clear: late spring frosts.
The tip bud on a mophead hydrangea branch. It survived winter and is beginning to grow in spring, but has one last hurdle to clear: late spring frosts.

Final reassurance: Revelation will come

Whether it’s an “ah-ha” based on something you read in a magazine, a connection you make because your nose knows something about soil temperature that cannot be expressed in words, or the sounds you hear from birds reach a place in your conscious where natural cues rank themselves in mysterious but meaningful groups, you will learn and have fun this spring. I’m sure of it.

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

RELATED: Springboard into the garden season

Springtime bulb problems that you can solve in the fall

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Bulbs come up too early

If you want to avoid this problem, plant bulbs deep and don’t plant right next to a sunny south wall.

Bulb foliage may emerge during an extended winter thaw, or come up far enough during an early spring heat wave that we worry it will freeze when normal temperatures return. Relax. That plant may lose leaf tips to the cold, but it’s no big loss. A fully grown tulip or daffodil leaf may be 12 inches long. If it loses an inch at the tip—that part which sits above the zone protected by radiant heat from the soil—the remaining 11 inches is enough to fuel the plant’s growth and bloom.

A hard freeze can hurt if it comes after your bulbs’ flower buds emerge. If a hard freeze is forecast, you can cover bulbs with floating row cover cloth or newspaper to trap ground heat, or run sprinklers during the coldest hours to protect the plants via heat released by cooling water.

Some bulb species are prone to early growth (Dutch iris is an example). If you see a bulb act this way in your garden every year, don’t plant that species or variety anymore. Also, some places are more likely than others to heat up early. Beds along south-facing brick walls are at risk, as are sandy beds that slope south. Recognize these places and don’t grow bulbs there. Finally, some practices contribute to early rising. The most common is too-shallow planting.

Bloom one year, never again

Avoid this by planting your bulbs in full sun this fall. Where it’s already a problem, make site changes to let in more light or move the bulbs.

Most often, failure to bloom means a site is too shady. To flower, most spring bulbs need at least six hours of sun while their leaves are green. Given that, embryonic flower buds form in the bulb this summer to bloom next spring. New bulbs coming from a sunny bulb production field may have enough stored energy to bloom their first spring even in shade. From then on, it’s all downhill.

Shallow planting and summer moisture can also contribute. This is especially true of bulbs that have a tunic (a paper-like covering), such as tulips, daffodils, crocus, and gladiolas. Tunicate bulbs require hot, dry summers. When these bulbs are too cool or moist during summer, they may not form flowers.

The stems flop over before the plants bloom

These daffodils flopped when temperatures dropped suddenly one April day from the 70s to the teens. Within days, they were standing tall and blooming cheerily again. If, however, your bulbs flop even in good weather, the advice below is what you need.
These daffodils flopped when temperatures dropped suddenly one April day from the 70s to the teens. Within days, they were standing tall and blooming cheerily again. If, however, your bulbs flop even in good weather, the advice below is what you need.

In answer to this problem, select sunny spots for your bulbs, keep those beds well watered this fall and again next spring as the bulbs emerge, and use only slow-release fertilizers.

For example, daffodils might have stems that are not strong enough to support the weight of the flower. They either lean over from the base or bend right in the middle of the stem. On the double-flowered varieties, the weight of the bloom may cause the stem to break.

Weak stems are often the result of planting where there is too much shade. For example, daffodils need at least eight hours of sunlight to perform well. When the area is too shady, they often stretch to reach the sun, causing their stems to elongate and become weak.

As far as nutrition is concerned, “balanced” fertilizer is another possible culprit. Daffodils need a slow-release nitrogen in smaller quantities. Too much nitrogen will cause the bulbs to produce lots of weak, green leaves at the expense of blooms. The addition of more potash (potassium) will help produce stronger bulbs, which develop stronger leaves and stems.

Sufficient moisture is critical to daffodils—in the fall to help generate good roots before the ground freezes and again in the spring when the flowers are actively growing. Daffodil stems are hollow and when there is enough moisture, the stem is filled with water, which helps to support itself and the flower. If it’s dry and the stem is hollow, it is more likely to buckle under the weight of the flower.

Leaves emerge fine but quickly discolor and die

Let it be a lesson this fall: If drainage is not perfect, don’t plant bulbs there.

In these cases, the plant also fails to bloom. Bulb rot is often the cause, and poor drainage is the most common contributor to rot. Dig out the suspect bulbs. If the bulbs or roots are discolored and have soft or foul-smelling areas, dispose of them in a hot compost or by burning. Improve the drainage in that area, raise the bed, or switch to plants more tolerant of wet soil. For instance, quamash (Camassia) is generally more tolerant of moisture than tulips.

Failure to exit gracefully

Plan in the fall for a better ending to next spring’s show.

Gardeners love bulbs’ spring show but often hate the clutter factor—the leaves’ prolonged fade. Yet foliage can be clipped away earlier than you may think, if a plant is already full enough. If all you ask is that a plant replace itself each year, not increase its clump size, cut back tulip and daffodil foliage as early as June 1—about two months after the plants emerge from winter rest. If such plants don’t bloom as well the next year, stall that year’s cut by two weeks or replace them with a variety that can put up with our impatient ways.

However, it is simplest to let bulb foliage die back naturally. You can allow this yet reduce the visual distraction by pairing bulbs with late-emerging perennials such as hardy hibiscus (Hibiscus moscheutos) or blue mist flower (Conoclinium coelestinum), or self-sowing annuals such as balsam (Impatiens balsamina) or spider flower (Cleome).

Beneath this kousa dogwood are hundreds of squill (Scilla siberica) that color the lawn blue in April and then are mowed down when lawn clipping begins. Here in late April the squill leaves still show like coarser blades of grass. Even easier, for both gardener and tree: Smother the lawn and then plant the late-emerging, August-blooming groundcover hardy plumbago there (Ceratostigma plumbaginoides) to cover the squills' exit.
Beneath this kousa dogwood are hundreds of squill (Scilla siberica) that color the lawn blue in April and then are mowed down when lawn clipping begins. Here in late April the squill leaves still show like coarser blades of grass. Even easier, for both gardener and tree: Smother the lawn and then plant the late-emerging, August-blooming groundcover hardy plumbago there (Ceratostigma plumbaginoides) to cover the squills’ exit.

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

RELATED: Proper planning ensures reliable spring bulbs

ELSEWHERE: Naturalizing spring flowering bulbs

Your plants survived winter—only to be snuffed by spring?

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How to help your plants make it through the frosty weeks of April

by Janet Macunovich
Photographs by Steven Nikkila

Plants are most susceptible to cold after they begin to wake up in spring. Buds, bark and roots that were hardened to the point of being able to weather minus 20 degrees in January become irreversibly soft by late March or early April. Then they may be seriously damaged at 25 degrees and killed outright at 10 degrees. Sudden, large drops in temperature hurt them most, and that’s what April frosts usually are—frigid packets of air that drop from clear skies after a balmy, slightly breezy day goes still at sunset.

A magnolia hardens its tissues in late fall and winters its flowers under fuzzy bud caps capable of withstanding minus 15 degrees. Yet once the sap begins to flow in the tree and the bud caps split open, the flowers may be damaged by frost. It’s not practical for home gardeners to protect trees from frost, but this article has tips on how to help other plants past this most treacherous of times.
Frost damaged some petals on this saucer magnolia (Magnolia x soulangiana). The damage won’t hurt the tree, but it can spoil its show.

Consequences of spring freezes may take days or even weeks to develop and are often lumped in with “winter kill.” We may even fail to recognize them as cold damage because they appear long after we’ve forgotten the frost. Then we see leaf drop, bud blast, aborted flowers, splitting bark, scorched foliage, freeze-dried twigs, stunted growth, susceptibility to disease, and failure to flower or flourish.

We often spend hours in late fall putting special plants to bed with wilt-stop coatings, burlap screens, elaborate mulch blankets and one last watering before the ground freezes. Those measures may have made a difference—that marginally hardy rosemary may have survived in its protected alcove and the rhododendrons and boxwoods stayed moist enough to bring their leaves into April unscathed. Yet what’s alive right now may be relegated to the compost pile and labeled “not hardy” if we let down our guard during this last leg of the journey.

Here are ideas to help your plants pass without harm through these next few, most risky weeks.

Oakleaf hydrangea (H. quercifolia) is another plant that must carry its tip buds from one summer right into the next in order to bloom.
Once that densely coated bud cover opens, I try to protect the emerging hydrangea shoot from freezes. If that bud dies, I’ll certainly see the plant’s pretty foliage this year but probably won’t see any bloom.

Moist soil makes a warm night.

You can fight frost with water, but you’ll have to aim the hose at the plants’ roots, not up at the leaves and stems.

An inclination to sprinkle at-risk foliage is understandable if you have seen nursery stock or an orchard protected from spring frost in rather dramatic fashion, by sprinklers that run all night to coat the plants with ice and all morning to ease the ice’s passage. However, this technique is one that warrants a “don’t try this at home” caption. That’s because it’s the creation of ice, not its simple presence, that works the magic. Plants benefit from the heat given off by each new drop of water as it enters an icy state. Standard oscillating and rotating sprinklers can’t deliver the amount of water or relentless coverage needed to foster continual ice formation.

What you can do with water is to stoke the radiator below each plant. Keep an eye on the three-day forecast so you can tend your plants the day before a frost is due. Soak the soil—avoid splashing the branches and foliage. Moist soil absorbs more heat from the air by day and radiates it longer and more steadily into the night than dry soil. That’s one reason that frost is always more likely over sandy ground than clay.

Don’t over-do. If your garden is very well-drained, you may be able to water with abandon but if there’s any chance the soil will become waterlogged, quit. Soggy roots are more trouble to a plant than frosted tips.

Everything’s warmer under a tent.

Everyone knows that heat rises but many are surprised to know just how much warmth can radiate from the soil. Soil temperature in the Midwest in late winter and early spring may be in the 20s or perhaps 30 degrees from ground level to two feet deep. Below that the ground remains at about 50 degrees. If the soil is loose and airy, that heat rises steadily through and out of the soil. It can preserve plants and plant parts close to the ground during a frost.

Cover a plant with something that seals its connection with this radiator. Within that tent the air may be 5 degrees warmer than in the open.

Fiber makes a great frost blanket.

Don’t use plastic to cover plants, or if you do, place props to hold it well up off the leaves and twigs so it can trap ground-warmed air around all parts of the plant. Since plastic is such a poor insulator, any bit of plant touching the plastic is essentially in contact with the frosty air and likely to freeze as if unprotected.

The better choice for frost protection is cloth, replete with tiny air pockets. You can use old linens and blankets if they’re light enough to cover without crushing delicate foliage. To use heavier materials, first place props to bear the weight.

Lightweight fabrics developed specifically for plant protection are called floating row cover, frost blanket, frost cloth, plant cover, and spun-bond polypropylene—all with various brand names. These products are light enough in most cases to be supported by the plant itself and come in sections or rolls wide enough to cover a shrub or a whole bed of flowers or vegetables. Permeable to light and water, they can be left in place even on cold days without smothering the plant they’re protecting. They are made in a range of weights from about one-half to several ounces per square yard. In general, the heavier the cloth the more light it blocks, but the more heat it can hold—the lightest promise just 2 or 3 degrees of frost protection while the heaviest claim eight.

Floating row cover protects newly planted bear’s breeches (Acanthus mollis) during a frost. Lenten roses (Helleborus x orientalis) in the foreground require no protection from this frost because they’ve developed in place and are in sync with normal weather. The newcomer has just come from a greenhouse and is beyond the stage of growth it would be if it had grown on-site.
Frost protection should be removed once danger of frost has passed, to avoid overheating covered plants.

It’s a cloche call.

The traditional cloche is simply a large glass jar that can be inverted over a plant. More recently, sections of glass or plastic clipped together to make tents over individual plants or rows have been included under this term.

Plastic tunnels covering rows of plants are sometimes called cloches, too. They’re made by bending heavy wire into big U shapes, sticking them upside down into the ground, and then covering them with plastic from a roll. Glass is better than plastic in terms of the light, warmth and humidity it affords a plant, but shatterproof plastic is safer for garden use. Plastic cloches can provide protection from hail as well as frost.

Plastic milk jugs and soft drink bottles can be pressed into service as cloches. Cut off the bottom of the jug or bottle and press it firmly into place as you cover the plant so its cut edges sit securely in the soil. If days are warm, remove the bottle cap to vent excess heat.

A modern twist on the traditional cloche are season extenders like the Wall O’ Water. A plant is encircled by this cylinder of compartmented plastic—basically a double sheet of heavy plastic seamed to form pockets that can be filled with water. The water absorbs radiant energy by day and at night releases it to the plant in its embrace.

If you have special small plants and an abundance of two-liter soft drink bottles, you can make your own wall of water. Cut the bottom off one bottle and circle that container with six intact bottles. Use duct tape to hold the group together. Slip the center bottle over a plant. Remove that bottle cap if days are warm, to prevent heat build-up. Fill the surrounding bottles with water.

Gracious sakes, come in outta that wind.

Our mothers, grandmas and aunties were right—one can catch one’s death in a wind. Cold that wouldn’t otherwise harm a plant can kill if drying winds accompany it. Wind is even more damaging to plants during early spring cold spells than it is during the depths of winter. So keep that burlap screen or snow fencing in its place several feet to the windward side of your broadleaf evergreens.

One reason spring wind is so devastating is that air temperatures during the day are warm enough that a holly, rhododendron, boxwood, pieris or grapeholly leaf can sustain photosynthesis. Those leaves lose water through their pores during that process. Yet a cold snap can freeze the top inch of soil where these plants have many fine roots. The next day, the plant sits in the sun losing water through its leaves but the water the roots need to replace it is locked in ice. When water runs short, the losers are the aerial parts furthest out—tips and emerging buds—as well as leaf edges that have “softened” as they quit the devices that added up to seasonal hardiness. We often don’t see the damage until May, but the scorched tips and leaf margins we see at that time began in that April freeze.

If you wonder whether you should protect plants from wind, look around your neighborhood for trees that stand alone, away from the protection of a grove or any buildings. Are those trees symmetrical or distorted? Distortion on one side can indicate severity and direction of the prevailing winds that dry and kill in late spring.

Cover those feet.

Mulch is a another strategy that’s important to understory species with shallow roots, such as rhododendron, holly, Japanese maple and magnolia. A study in Wisconsin put a number on the value of mulch. That is, when air temperature falls to 1 degree, the soil there drops to 16 degrees if it has a three-inch mulch blanket, but can stay at about 22 degrees given six inches of cover.

If you begin to rake off special plants’ extra mulch on warm spring days, don’t be too quick to cart it away. A friend has recently recommended sawdust as a material that can be easily peeled back yet replaced in a hurry. I intend to keep some on hand to rectify the silliness of Japanese wax bell (Kirengeshoma palmata), which is forever leaping up too soon and being cut down by frost.

What gardeners do best: Improvise.

I don’t have many things that I keep on hand especially for frost protection. Like most gardeners, I improvise. Upended plastic garbage pails, five gallon buckets, milk crates, old draperies and cardboard boxes are all in my April bag of tricks. I’ve also grinned over the use of beach umbrellas in one friend’s garden and discussed with another how we might use a hunter’s open-bottom ground blind to protect shrubs and even small trees.

Thank heaven for plants that just take what Nature hands them and keep on chugging. These Red and Yellow Emperor tulips have reckoned with snow and frosts for 20 years, even freezing solid in a late April snow.
Here they are just one day after appearing in the previous, snowy scene. So long as I don’t walk on them while they’re frozen—an abuse resented by all plants from lawn grass to wisteria vines—they come back with gusto. 

Dream of ideal plants and places.

Every spring I vow to eliminate all plants that cause me extra work. Every summer at least a few of them convince me anew that they’re worth the effort. Thank goodness for the existence of perfect plants—species that can handle whatever “normal” happens to be each spring. I’m grateful, too, for ideal places, such as that wind-protected spot about ten feet southeast of my neighbor’s six-foot hedge. It is ground that happens to slope to the southeast so it sheds cold air downhill and catches warming sun early in the year. It’s sandy, well-drained soil there, so it conducts ground warmth well and doesn’t add oxygen deprivation to a root’s winter woes. I can’t ask for more protection.

But I can ask why the spot’s not bigger. I’d like to put my whole garden into it.

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

RELATED: Proper planning ensures reliable spring bulbs

Tarda tulip

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tulipa-tarda
Tulipa ‘Negrita’ (top), Tulipa tarda. (Photo: White Flower Farm)

As spring bulbs begin to emerge, gardeners often wish they had planted more bulbs last fall. Few “perennials” are this easy to plant, grow, and maintain. However, many bulbs do have shortcomings. Some are planted and immediately become squirrel food. Others bloom so late that gardeners have to wait a few extra weeks for the foliage to die back before annuals can be planted. And the largest concern is their failure to bloom for more than a few years in the garden. Tarda tulip may help you overcome some of these potential problems.

Every year, in late April to early May, each tarda tulip (Tulipa tarda) bulb produces 4 to 6, star-shaped flowers that are about 2 to 3 inches across. The yellow buds open almost flat, revealing bright yellow petals whose lower half is white. Unlike most of the showier hybrids of today, tarda tulip’s flower size and color lends itself to a more refined and subdued display.

Tarda tulip is one of several tulips that can be found in nature, especially if you happen to be walking around the rocky slopes of rural China. Therefore, it is referred to as a species tulip—it hasn’t been bred for bigger blooms or brighter colors. Like several other species tulips, tarda tulip is extremely hardy. Severe winters and hot summers rarely threaten its vigor. This is especially true if you can create well-drained soil that is amended with organic matter such as compost or shredded pine bark. Plant bulbs at a depth of 6 inches in full or partial sun for best results.

The other great feature of this species tulip is its ability to flower year after year after year. Many of the more popular tulip types such as parrots, doubles, single lates, etc., have exceptional flower colors and forms. These, however, rarely last for more than a few years in the garden, even with the best conditions. On the other hand, tarda tulip is a true perennial type and should last for many years with minimal or no effort.

Tarda tulip’s short, yellow and white flowers make excellent partners for slightly taller tulips. Try a rock garden tulip (Tulipa greigii) for a 10- to 12-inch background. Then use the durable blossoms of grape hyacinths as a contrasting blue, spike-shaped flower that grows to about the same six-inch height. Don’t forget spring-blooming perennial groundcovers such as creeping phlox or candytuft. These can be planted right over tarda tulip for a brilliant, double dose of color every spring.

As for the squirrels, I can offer some ideas. The most reliable deterrent is to plant your bulbs under a piece of chicken wire that is buried below the soil surface. It always is effective but can be a chore to install and is especially annoying when it gets in the way of other plantings. Repellents can also be applied to bulbs before planting. These eventually wash away, but usually succeed because bulbs are the most vulnerable for a few days after planting. The good news is that tarda tulip is one of the least expensive tulips available. So, an occasional loss to Mr. Squirrel isn’t as economically devastating as it would be with other, more costly bulbs. 

In the fall, tarda tulip can be found at many garden centers alongside other species tulips. Try these true perennials in your toughest areas and take advantage of their durability and beauty. It’s likely that these little gems will outlast your other bulbs and may even spread to fill nearby open spaces. Just remember to watch out for the squirrels.

Tarda tulip

Botanical name: Tulipa tarda (TOO-lip-uh TAR-duh)
Plant type: Bulb
Plant size: 6 inches tall
Hardiness: Zone 4
Flower color:  White tips & yellow centers
Flower size: 2-3 inches across, star-shaped
Bloom period: Late April to early May
Leaf color: Green
Leaf size: 5 inches long
Light: Full to part sun         
Soil: Well-drained soil, amended with organic matter
Uses: Perennial border, rock garden
Companion plants: Grape hyacinths, medium height tulips (10-14 inch), spring-blooming perennial groundcovers, such as creeping phlox or candytuft.
Remarks: Species tulip; very hardy; longer-lived than the more common, hybridized tulips.

George Papadelis is the owner of Telly’s Greenhouse in Troy and Shelby Township, MI.

Proper planning ensures reliable spring bulbs

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Each year I plan, purchase and plant thousands of bulbs. Here’s what I’ve learned to do in fall to insure the best show of spring bulbs.

In early April, all eyes will be on this blooming cornelian cherry tree (Cornus mas), or gazing at the yard art. Plan the bulb planting scheme in the fall to highlight those attractions.

Think “grocery produce section” when selecting bulbs

When you choose bulbs in person at the local garden center, you have a significant advantage: you have direct control over quality. Make the most of it. Pretend you’re at a grocery store choosing vegetables, because that’s what bulbs are—root crops.

You would think twice about buying a mushy potato, rubbery carrot or shriveled onion. Be just as choosy with bulbs. Select for firmness and even color. Check for soft spots that may be on their way to rotting, and reject bare-root ephemerals like foxtail lily (Eremurus) if they have broken roots. Take the largest of any bunch.

Keep the same mindset if you must store bulbs before planting. If the bulb has a tunic (a papery skin as on a tulip, daffodil, crocus, etc.) or a horny surface (such as snowdrops and spring-blooming anemone), store it cool and dry like you would store onions or garlic. If it does not have a protective covering, like a true lily or a bare foxtail lily root, keep it as you would carrots—cool and humid in a refrigerator crisper drawer or root cellar. If it’s wrapped, make sure that condensation doesn’t collect and puddle inside to incite rot on the surface of the bulb or root.

About price: Bargain basement bulbs are usually disappointing. If you buy the cheapest, you’re almost certain to receive bulbs half the size of premium items. They may be dry and wasted from improper storage. Given years of ideal conditions, such bulbs may produce a decent display. Next spring, however, they’ll present flowers few and small.

Beware of low-priced collections too. Whether of mixed varieties of one species or a “spring collection” of different species, they rarely live up to their promise. The catalog may illustrate a mix of six types of daffodil or tulip yet ship just 5 of the fancier types to each 45 of a pale, small-flowered type. The mixed-species collections often contain only a few of each big, showy species (hyacinths, daffodils, tulips) but many of each minor bulb (squill, winter aconite, glory-of-the-snow, etc.). They sometimes include downright weedy species such as star of Bethlehem (Ornithogalum umbellatum).

Far too often, the tiny, early bulbs are overlooked when we plan and plant in fall. Yet masses of any of this collection can be planted to naturalize most anywhere in a landscape. Flowers, from left: White Puschkinia with its baby blue stripe accompanies early daffodil ‘Jack Snipe,’ fading away as lamium covers that ground. Blue squill (Scilla sibirica) plus the blue and white forms of woodland anemone (Anemone blanda) are great partners with the evergreen perennial lenten rose (Helleborus x orientalis) under a kousa dogwood. Blue ‘Harmony’ and standard purple iris (Iris reticulata) can mix it up with yellow crocus (Crocus chrysanthus) among clumps of blue fescue or perennial fountain grass.

Include early-, mid- and late-blooming types

You can enjoy spring bulb bloom from early March until early June. Most crocuses come early in that line-up, followed by Dutch hyacinth and daffodils in April, and tulips from late April into May. Alliums, foxtail lily and others carry the show into June. Within each group, however, there are early-, mid-, and late-blooming species and varieties. Take the time in fall to plan a mix that will give you spring color every week that’s important to you. (See the sidebar “Parade of bloomin’ bulbs” for a starting line-up.)

Short on space? You can plant two, three or even four kinds of bulbs in one area if you choose for separate seasons and give all players elbow room. For instance, I have planted squill, early species tulip (Tulipa kaufmanniana), checker lily (Fritillaria meleagris), and drumstick allium (Allium sphaerocephalon) in one spot. I excavated that bulb area about 10 inches deep and placed the tulips, then added a few inches of soil and set the checker lilies and drumstick alliums. Finally I added another inch of soil, scattered the squill and covered it all with the rest of the soil.

There’s no right or wrong in bulbs or any other aspect of gardening, just different ways for each gardener and garden. A catalog may recommend 188 Grecian windflowers (Anemone blanda) per square yard, and you certainly can plant that many for immediate impact. Yet you can also place just a few near your favorite garden sculpture and watch them multiply over the years.

Plant them where you’ll see them

Before you plant, stand in the windows you use most in late winter and early spring. Look at your garden from there and from the driveway where you enter and exit. Plant spring bulbs where you will be able to see them from these vantage points or you’re wasting your time and money.

Bulb color goes a long way—if you can see it. So it’s a smart move to plant daffodils where you will see them each day as you leave and come home again. Never forget as you make your choices, however, that most spring bulbs need full sun to bloom well. Note the difference here in the amount of bloom between the daffodils in the wooden barrels and those in the beds. Those in the barrels were sun-grown in pots and moved into the planters for temporary show. Those in the beds have grown there for years, shaded most of each day.

Plant them deep

The rule of thumb for bulb depth is to set a bulb with soil over its nose 2 to 3 times as deep as the bulb is tall. That means to plant a tulip, daffodil, lily or large allium, you need a hole 8 or 9 inches deep. That will accept the three-inch bulb plus at least six inches of soil above it. Most people plant shallow and pay for it in frost damage, toppling flowers and blooms that come one year then never again.

I plant even deeper than recommended. I put large bulbs in holes at least 11 inches deep. If the drainage is good, they don’t mind at all, and need dividing less often. Plus, I won’t harm them as I garden because they’re all below the reach of my nine-inch spade blade.

Doubtful? Experiment with just a few bulbs planted deeper this fall. Note what you planted deep, where, so you can gauge the results next spring. I still do, since I’m not sure I’ve pushed it to the limit, in terms of depth. One fall, after planting a dozen tulips a foot deep, I forgot all about them and later dumped a wheelbarrow of soil there and topped that with a leftover bale of straw. The next spring, the tulips grew from a foot down, through the piled soil, plus 14 inches of baled straw to bloom cheerily above the heap.

That just goes to show that there’s no absolute right or wrong when it comes to using bulbs or any other aspect of gardening. Take that to heart as you plan and plant bulbs this fall. Have fun, and enjoy the surprises spring will bring.

Parade of bloomin’ bulbs

Here’s a list of which bulbs are likely to bloom when, with what. To use it, remember it’s only a guide—winter and spring weather can slow one bulb and speed another—and adjust for length of growing season. It’s geared to use in northern zone 5, where the growing season starts later than it does in a more southern zone 5 but earlier than on the Lake Superior shore zone 5. So change mid-March to early March if you’re in zone 6, or to late February for a zone 7 North Carolina winter home.

Very early (by mid-March): Snowdrops (Galanthus), early crocus (Crocus sieberi, C. minimus, C. tommasinianus), danford and netted iris (Iris danfordiae, I. reticulata).

Early (late March to mid-April): Grecian windflower and wood anemone (Anemone blanda, A. nemerosa), squill (Scilla sibirica), Puschkinia libanotica, Dutch crocus, Dutch hyacinth, early- and mid-season daffodils, firespray- and tarda tulips (Tulipa praestans, T. dasystemon), glory-of-the-snow (Chionodoxa).

Mid-season (late April and early May): Late daffodils, early tulips (Triumph, Foster, multi-flora, and Greigii tulips followed by lily-flowered and fringed types), western trout lily (Erythronium ‘Pagoda’), checker lily (Fritillaria meleagris), summer snowflake (Leucojum‘ Gravetye’), grape hyacinth (Muscari).

Late (mid- to late May): Late and parrot tulips, species tulip (Tulipa wilsoniana), quamash (Camassia), large-flowered alliums, sego lily (Calochortus), perennial glads (Gladiolus byzantinus), bluebells (Hyacinthoides campanulata).

Very late (end of May and into June): Sicilian honey lily (Nectaroscordum siculum), foxtail lily (Eremerus), drumstick and blue allium (Allium sphaerocephalon, A. caeruleum), California hyacinth (Triteleia laxa, Brodiaea).

Article by Janet Macunovich and photos by Steven Nikkila, www.gardenatoz.com.

RELATED: Moving spring flowering bulbs

RELATED: Plant Focus – Crocus

Plant Focus: Crocus

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‘Pickwick’ (Photo: Dutch Gardens)

For a gardener, there are few sights as welcome as the first crocus of the year, peeking its flowers through the freshly melted snow of late winter. Crocus is a very hardy perennial and one of the few plants that can bloom as early as February or March. By being hidden deep in the soil, crocus corms are naturally insulated from severe temperature changes, ice and wind. Flowering is initiated by just a few consecutive days of temperatures above freezing. Once the first few inches of soil can thaw, flowers emerge and will last for several weeks despite more wintry weather. Crocus flowers can protect themselves by closing up in the evening and also whenever they experience severe weather.

‘Yellow Mammoth’ (Photo: Dutch Gardens)

Crocus have long been popular with gardeners for several reasons. Their durable flowers are available in many colors including yellow, white, purple, blue, and pink. One plant will usually return year after year and develop offspring that can produce additional flowers in beautiful drifts. The two-inch flowers are made up of 6 oval petals that surround 3 prominent yellow to orange stamens. Crocus grow from one-inch corms rather than actual “bulbs.” Both are just compressed stems: bulbs consisting of fleshy scales and corms being more solid. Gladiolus is another example of a corm.

‘Whitewell Purple’ (Photo: John Scheepers, Inc.)

Crocus are native to the rocky slopes of the Mediterranean countries and southwest Asia. They adapt to cold winters, full or partial sun, and well-drained soil. Most Michigan gardeners have the first two, but well-drained soil may have to be created if clay is prevalent. Drainage can be improved by adding aged pine bark or compost to your soil. Since crocus corms are planted 3 to 4 inches deep, only about 4 inches of soil below them needs to be well-cultivated. Corms should be at least 3 inches apart. However, this is the type of bulb that looks great planted in more natural and random masses.

‘Romance’ (Photo: Van Bourgondien)

Most crocus have only one serious threat to their perennial existence. Hungry bunnies seem especially tempted by the leaves, flowers and corms of several species. Corms can be protected by several methods. Gravel worked into the soil above the corms will make digging them up difficult. Liquid or powder deterrents can be used to treat corms before planting. Keep in mind that freshly planted bulbs and corms are most likely to create curiosity amongst browsers. Once established, they are rarely disturbed. If all else fails, you can plant in below-grade, wire mesh cages that are impenetrable. To protect leaves and flowers, apply a granular deterrent or a spray.

‘Ruby Giant’ (Photo: John Scheepers, Inc.)

There are many varieties of spring-blooming crocus but most of the hardy ones fall into four species. Crocus ancyrensis is golden bunch crocus. The selection ‘Golden Bunch’ produces up to five deep orange-yellow flowers in a “bunch” per corm. Of the four species, this is one of the earliest to bloom; late February is not unusual if Mother Nature is cooperating. This is also one of the more vulnerable to attack from the bunnies.

‘Jeanne d’Arc’ (Photo: John Scheepers, Inc.)

Crocus chrysanthus is available in several varieties, all of which are referred to as snow crocus or golden crocus. ‘Cream Beauty’ is a strong grower that is primarily white with a white center. ‘Ladykiller’ is also white but with purple on the outside of the petals. ‘Advance’ is yellow inside but the outside is unique because the petals alternate creamy yellow and purple. Corms produce 1 to 4 flowers each in late February or early March. Like C. ancyrensis above, rabbits admire this species.

Crocus tommasinianus is a wonderful choice for several reasons. This species is the most pest-resistant crocus available. If you have lost crocus to rabbits or squirrels, this may be the choice for you. C. tommasinianus is also the most prolific grower. It will quickly naturalize to form masses of flowers. The most readily available variety is ‘Barr’s Purple.’ Its deep violet petals fade to a bright white center that is highlighted by bright orange stamens. It blooms almost as early as the above two species, usually in early March.

The most popular species is Crocus vernus or Dutch crocus. Unlike the previous species, one large flower with large gold stamens is produced from each corm. It is available in several colors ranging from white to stripes to purples. ‘Jeanne d’Arc’ is a bright white with large flowers. ‘Pickwick’ has large white flowers with dark lavender stripes inside and out. ‘Remembrance’ and ‘Flower Record’ are deep lavender and pale lavender respectively. Dutch crocus usually bloom from March to early April.

Fall is a perfect season for planting. Cooler weather means less heat stress for both plants and people. Plants are naturally becoming dormant and are far less susceptible to drying out and experiencing transplant shock. Fall is also the only season for planting spring-blooming bulbs and corms. Once the ground freezes, the opportunity is lost and you’ll regret not having these heralds of spring glowing in your early season garden. Crocus are relatively inexpensive and are available almost anywhere bulbs are sold. With minimal effort this fall, you can enhance your existing landscape and welcome spring with the bright blossoms of crocus.

‘Blue Pearl’ (Photo: Van Bourgondien)

Crocus   CRO-kus
Plant type: Corm (commonly referred to as a “bulb”)
Plant size: 3-5 inches tall
Habit: Clump-forming
Flower colors: Purple, violet, reddish- purple, lilac, yellow, cream, white
Flower size: 2 inches wide
Bloom period: Late winter to early spring
Light: Full to partial sun
Soil: Well-drained
Uses: Plant in natural drifts in the perennial border, lawn or rock garden
Remarks: The corms develop offspring that can produce additional flowers to create a naturalized look

George Papadelis is the owner of Telly’s Greenhouse in Troy and Shelby Township, MI.

RELATED: Colchicum and Fall Crocus

ELSEWHERE: More on Crocus at Chicago Botanic Garden

Plant Focus: Viola

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Viola cornuta (Photo: Jonathon Hofley / Michigan Gardener)

by George Papadelis

In the spring, the earliest bedding plants to appear at your local garden center are violas and pansies. These are usually available in flats and look similar except violas have smaller flowers than pansies. So, what is the real difference between violas and pansies and is this the same “violet” that has spread all over my friend’s yard? As a matter of fact, the plants referred to as “violas,” “pansies,” and “sweet violets” are all in the same group of plants, namely the genus Viola.

Viola cornuta ‘Jersey Gem’ (Photo: White Flower Farm)

Pansies are the result of crossing different species of violas. These “hybrids” (called Viola x wittrockiana) have flowers 2 to 4 inches across and include an incredible range of colors including white, black and practically every color in the rainbow. These plants will tolerate freezes and frosts, so gardeners can plant them as early as April 1 here in Michigan. They will flower profusely all spring and if old flowers are removed, they will most likely continue through the summer. The cool fall will encourage more flowering, which often lasts until the winter holidays. In our climate, pansies planted in a protected area usually return one more season for another performance, although somewhat less spectacular. Protected areas include the south side of the house and the cooler east side.

The smaller-flowering viola (Viola cornuta), sold in flats every spring, has evolved greatly. Several series such as the “Princess” series and the “Sorbets” have introduced new colors and color combinations that rival the closely related Johnny jump-up (Viola tricolor). Violas planted in our climate last one or two seasons. Just like pansies, spent flowers must be removed to encourage flowering through the hot summer.

Viola

Botanical Name: Viola cornuta (vy-OH-lah kor-NEW-tah)
Common Name: Violet, horned violet
Plant Type: Hardy annual/tender perennial
Plant Size: 5-10 inches tall
Flower Color: White, purple, violet, yellow, maroon
Flower Size: 1-1/2 inches wide
Bloom Period: Spring to fall
Light: Partial sun to sun
Soil: Well-drained, moist
Hardiness: Zone 5
Uses: Areas that are partially sunny, yet moist
Remarks: Remove spent flowers to encourage blooms through the summer

Viola cornuta (Photo: Jonathon Hofley / Michigan Gardener)

The dangerous member of this group is Viola odorata or “sweet violets” which are often just referred to as “violets.” These are very perennial, produce fragrant, small flowers in the spring, and may spread everywhere if you let them. Like violas and pansies, sweet violets produce seeds which may germinate and produce more plants. However, sweet violets also send underground stems called stolons in all directions, which may be difficult to find and remove. This invasive nature makes it an excellent groundcover or a wildflower in a naturalized site. Sweet violets have also been planted for as long as gardens have existed. The flower market in Athens, Greece sold sweet violets as early as 400 B.C. Its fragrance has been used by the perfume industry for centuries and is still being used by some today.

All members of the genus Viola produce edible flowers. Chefs all over the world use these showy blossoms as an attractive garnish, especially on salads. The blossoms also make great cut flowers and are among the most popular flowers for pressing. Members of the Viola family grow best in partial sun but full sun can be tolerated. High temperatures and drying out will cause stress, so keep the soil moist and cool if possible.

Viola cornuta ‘Cuty’ (Photo: White Flower Farm/Michael Dodge)

Gardeners looking for something different may want to try the purple-leafed viola (Viola labridorica) for its attractive foliage and fluorescent purple flowers. Other violas such as Viola koreana even have attractive silver patterned leaves. The bird’s foot violet (Viola pedata) is easy to identify because the leaves look just like a bird’s foot.

From a naturalizing habit to being self-contained, the genus Viola is so diverse that every gardener is sure to have a spot for at least one variety!

George Papadelis is the owner of Telly’s Greenhouse in Troy and Shelby Township, MI.

Ask MG: Why is my Purple smoke tree not smoking?

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I have a purple smoke tree that is about 9 years old. It is a large, healthy tree, but it has never “smoked.” Every spring it is full of blossoms, then when other smoke trees are beginning to smoke, the blossoms on this tree shrivel and die. I have tried watering it more, I have tried watering it less. Any ideas? J.W., Ann Arbor

Although smoke tree or smoke bush (Cotinus coggygria) requires well-drained soil and full sun, it is quite adaptable to different soil conditions. A large shrub or small multi-stemmed tree that can grow to 15 feet tall, it can work as a background plant for the mixed border or as a single specimen plant. Its claim to fame is the cloud of pinkish gray “smoke” that covers the plant in the summer. The effect is the result not of flowers, but of tiny pinkish hairs on the small fruits that occur in large clusters. There are some popular cultivars with purple leaves and darker flower clusters, such as ‘Royal Purple,’ ‘Velvet Cloak,’ and ‘Nordine Red.’

While smoke bush is relatively easy to grow, it can use some help in the early stages of development. For a new plant, avoid planting in waterlogged or poorly draining soil. For an existing plant, dig a dozen holes with a crowbar at the drip line that are a foot deep. Fill these holes with 5-10-10 fertilizer. This should be a one-time application. Early spring is best but it can be any time. It isn’t necessary to repeat this unless the smoke bush is not thriving in later years. Woody plants are going to be happier if you don’t overdo it. Annuals, tropicals and turf are heavy feeders, but over-fertilizing perennials and woody plants can force them to produce more stems and leaves than they want to, which can lead to unnecessary stress. Once established in the landscape, shrubs and trees adjust to the nutrients in the soil and often don’t want too much extra pampering. Avoid fertilizing (directly or indirectly) with high nitrogen (lawn) fertilizer; nitrogen promotes stem and leaf growth at the expense of flower production.

If your tree is planted in the lawn, remove the grass in at least a 6-foot diameter area around your tree. Mulch the area (do not pile mulch up against the trunk) and water infrequently: a good soaking once per week is much better than multiple small waterings. Smoke bush is drought-resistant and overwatering can result in few or no blooms, and makes it more susceptible to disease. Woody plants need watering less frequently than tender annuals, lawn, or herbaceous plants. Most established trees and shrubs can go weeks without supplemental watering except in very hot or windy weather.

What is the best time of year to reseed bare patches in the lawn?

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What is the best time of year to reseed bare patches in the lawn? Can it be done in the spring? If so, please provide tips.

In Michigan, late August to mid-September is the ideal time to seed all grass types. The soil is warm yet the air has cooled down from summer temperatures.

However, most homeowners don’t want to go through the summer with a spotty lawn. Mid to late spring can be a suitable time to reseed bare patches in the lawn, after frost warnings are lifted. The soil temperature needs to be at least 50 degrees for grass to germinate at a normal rate. Waiting longer gives the soil more time to warm up to about 60 degrees and improves your success rate. Given sufficient moisture, the seed will germinate quicker with the added warmth, depending on the seed type.

Do not apply any spring lawn weed killers or crabgrass preventers. If you do, grass seed will not sprout or the seedlings will be killed along with the weeds and crabgrass.

Prepare the patches by removing any weeds. Scratch up the soil with a heavy dirt rake or cultivator. Mix up 1/3 sphagnum peat moss with 2/3 good garden soil to get a light, spongy texture. Add 1-1/2 cups of balanced organic fertilizer per bushel of soil making sure the fertilizer has a high phosphorous (P) content to stimulate root growth. Most “starter fertilizers” are high in phosphorous. Spread this mixture over the bare spot until it is slightly higher than the surrounding soil level. Gently work it into the scratched-up soil originally there.

Use a seed type similar to the existing grass unless it was the wrong kind to start with. Buy new seed. The percentage of seed that will germinate from old seed drops drastically with each year. Also avoid bargain seed. They generally contain the largest amount of annual or rough-bladed grasses.

Hand cast your seed and don’t be stingy. About 15 to 20 seeds per square inch is good. Bury the seed 1/8 to 1/4 inch into the soil by dragging a spring rake over the area with the tines inverted. Do not tamp so hard that you compact the soil. You want water to soak in easily. It is also helpful to cast some of the new seed to the outside of the repaired spot. This helps the new grass blend into the neighborhood!

Grass seed needs both moisture and warmth in order to sprout. Cooler temps will make it germinate slowly. But if there is a lack of moisture it won’t do a thing. Once the seed has germinated, avoid walking on the repaired spots to give the new plant roots time to dig in and acclimate. If you seed with a blended mix, the different types will germinate at different rates. So when you see green sprouts, continue to provide water for the later varieties to germinate.

Related: Keeping your lawn green

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