Tag: snow

  • The beauty and burden of snow

    The beauty and burden of snow

    The weight of accumulated layers of ice on frozen wood can cause branches to twist and snap, and is often referred to as nature’s way of pruning weak wood. (Photo by Joanne Young)

    As we burrow under the bedclothes in a few months, let’s hope for a thick blanket of snow over the garden this winter. The structure of each snowflake contains layers of frozen water and air. As falling flakes pile up on the ground, more air is trapped within increasing layers of snow. This blanket of frozen water and air moderates winter soil temperature, keeping plant roots consistently cold, and preventing the heaving of roots out of the ground when exposed soil thaws in winter sunlight and freezes again in low night temperatures.

    Small and newly installed clumps of perennials with shallow root balls are especially vulnerable to winter heaving. To help hold snow cover and keep roots in the soil, place branches from pruned shrubs and evergreens over plants after the ground has frozen. Snow will catch in the brush and provide a lasting winter blanket. (Branches cut from a discarded Christmas tree can be recycled for this purpose.)

    No two snowflakes are alike and every snowfall is different. The ratio of frozen water and air contained within snowflakes is changeable, and weather conditions influence the weight of each flake. Snow containing more water than air is heavy, and hard to push or shovel. When heavy snow falls on evergreens, it causes the frozen branches to sag and bend, and they may break under the weight of the snow. If heavy snow is falling fast, monitor the accumulation on evergreens each hour. When accumulation on branches is one inch (2.5 cm) thick, use a rake or broom to gently knock the snow off. Frozen branches are brittle and easily broken, so it’s better to remove snow frequently throughout a snowstorm, rather than allowing it to accumulate.

    And then, there is ice. A classic ice storm that coats limbs and trunks with glistening layers of ice is a beautiful sight, but also the source of much damage to trees and shrubs. The weight of accumulated layers of ice on frozen wood can cause branches to twist and snap, and is often referred to as nature’s way of pruning weak wood. There is little that can be done when ice coats tall woody plants, except to be mindful of the potential for damage that may need to be attended to in better weather. (If ice coats dormant flower buds during a cold snap, the ice may act as protective insulation against extreme low temperatures.)

    Evergreens retain their foliage during winter, reducing water content in needles and concentrating their sugars and essential oils. (You may have noticed that evergreens have their best scent in winter.) However, they are still transpiring moisture during cold months, and accumulated ice may burn their foliage. Ice can be removed with a gentle nudge from a rake or broom; or for resistant ice, use your bare fingers to gently push it off, remembering that the frozen wood is brittle and won’t bear too much manipulation. Large sections of ice on evergreen branches can be loosened by a short blast from a hand-held hairdryer (on the lowest heat setting), using a long extension cord. If ice has splayed out and flattened sections of cedar shrubs, it’s best to leave them as they are; they usually rebound to their natural upright position in spring.

    Read more by Judith Adam on Garden Making

  • Blooming where we’re planted

    Blooming where we’re planted

    Golden Sunrise hellebore (Photo by Jodi DeLong

    Much of North America is still deep into the winter of its gardening discontent. Here in the Maritimes, we’ve been buried in so much snow, we can’t even claim to have a garden of winter interest, because pretty much everything interesting is under snow drifts and plowed banks and more snow and a little ice to keep it all challenging.

    The snow is so deep in my garden I can’t reach the bird feeders, so I’ve been throwing seed out onto the drifts for the myriad hungry birds: dark-eyed juncos, chickadees, blue jays, nuthatches, creepers and goldfinches, their colours dulled like the dingy hues of a late winter snow bank; snow buntings, which come in flocks and are skittish but adorable; northern flickers, hairy woodpeckers, downy woodpeckers; and occasionally the flash of a red cardinal.

    I watch the birds through the window with camera at the ready, and my cats, too, watch “bird television” and make speeches about what they’d do if only they could go outdoors. (They’re indoor cats for just that reason.) I glower at the snow, and worry about breakage in the shrubs and small trees, but take comfort in the fact that everything is well insulated. The marginally hardy plants and the hellebores should be safe again this spring.

    What’s a gardener to do in winter? We distract ourselves with seed and plant catalogues, magazines and books, websites, thoughts of garden shows. We haunt nurseries that are open all winter, for the chance to walk through a greenhouse on a sunny late winter’s day, where the smell of green growing things and warm soil reminds us that spring will come again. (Maybe not until May, but still… .) We read longingly of our friends in warmers parts of Canada, the U.S. and beyond, who are bragging of cherry blossoms and magnolias and daffodils, while some of us still may not have all our bulbs planted.

    We grow houseplants, from common tropical foliage plants to riotously coloured orchids, African violets, amaryllis and hibiscus. We attend talks (or give talks) where a group of like-minded souls can get together and talk eagerly about garden successes or challenges, drool over new plants and learn from each other. We plant seeds, and plan spring and summer activities with our friends.

    We may garden for many different reasons, but one of the best reasons is the camaraderie that we gain from having a passion for planting. Not surprisingly, many of my friends are writers, but probably almost as many of them are gardeners. We are ever learning, swapping information and anecdotes as happily as we swap seeds, cuttings and divisions. We console each other over problems with deer, scarlet lily beetles or goutweed, and cheer on each other as we acquire a particular plant we’ve wanted, or manage to make a problem area shine, or harvest our first crop of haskaps or eggplants or basil. Gardening is about inspiring each other and ourselves to bloom where we are planted.

    Regardless of age or health or where we live, may we all find joy in the approaching spring. It will come. It always does.

  • Long-needled pines

    Long-needled pines

    ‘Vanderwolf’s Pyramid’ limber pine. Photo by Judith Adam
    ‘Vanderwolf’s Pyramid’ limber pine. Photo by Judith Adam

    When there’s a thin blanket of snow on the ground, it’s just enough to put a silvery gloss on the winter garden. This is when I’m grateful for every conifer in my landscape, especially those with soft needles, three to five inches (8 to 13 cm) long. They’re graceful in all seasons, swaying gently in the wind, and have an elegant texture in snow.

    There is a big Eastern white pine tree (Pinus strobus, 60 x 23 ft. /18 x 7 m, Zone 4) in the back corner with soft long needles, but it’s too far from the house to appreciate in this season. A neighbour brought it down from the north 60 years ago and planted it here when very young. The white pine is the largest of the northeastern conifers, and this baby is still growing — you wouldn’t want it anywhere close to the house!

    Just 10 feet (3 m) from the front door, I planted a hybrid limber pine tree, ‘Vanderwolf’s Pyramid’ (Pinus flexilis ‘Vanderwolf’s Pyramid’, 16 x 8 ft. / 5 x 2.5 m, Zone 5), that’s more upright and narrow than others cultivars of the species, with an open, see-through branch structure. Sunlight falls through the tree, and in summer clematis vines wander around the branches, filling it with flowers. The pine’s long blue-green needles catch falling snow, suggesting an enchanted forest on a Hollywood movie set. This is a fast-growing tree (about 24 in. / 60 cm a year, once established) and doesn’t keep anyone waiting. It has strong vigor and shoots upward, with the branches extended in a relaxed, graceful posture.

    In the back garden, there’s another long-needled tree, ‘Chalet’ Swiss stone pine (Pinus cembra ‘Chalet’, 13 x 5 ft. / 4 x 1.5 m, Zone 4). It’s a slow-growing, compact tree and has a dense conical form that makes a prominent winter profile in a perennial border and adds distinction and structure to deep summer borders.

    There is also a dwarf version of Eastern white pine. Called weeping white pine (Pinus strobus ‘Pendula’, 2 m x 3 m, Zone 4), it’s trained on stakes in youth to develop an upright leader, and then allowed to cascade in a strong weeping form that’s wider than it is tall. Each has a unique shape, and should be selected to suit its location. The branches sweep the ground and breezes easily catch their long blue-green needles. This is an elegant tree and should be placed where it can be readily appreciated.

  • Winter beauties in the garden

    Winter beauties in the garden

    Snow collects on miscanthus. (Photo by Brendan Zwelling)
    Snow collects on miscanthus. (Photo by Brendan Zwelling)

    Most gardeners leave some perennials standing over winter, hoping they’ll catch the snow and make a beautiful picture in the garden. With the first snow still fresh, now is a good time to look around to see where dried stalks and seedheads have been transformed into a winter tableau. Of course, you’ll also notice the empty areas where grasses and perennials were cut down, and perhaps next autumn you’ll let them stand.

    Tall sedums (cultivars of Sedum spectabile) are ideal for winter display, along with rudbeckias and the flower stalks of hostas, with their little seed capsules flared open and looking like miniature pagoda lanterns. The fuzzy and flamboyant seedheads of clematis are wonderful in snow, as are rosehips of any colour, and the dried, brown flowers of hydrangeas.

    In my garden, the tall stalks of black cohosh or bugbane (Actaea racemosa, syn. Cimicifuga racemosa) are spangled with round seed capsules that each catches a bonnet of snow. Ornamental grasses are also good candidates for winter display. I’ve had success with both Miscanthus sinensis ‘Morning Light’ and Calamagrostis x acutiflora ‘Karl Foerster’, both of which stand up and catch snow along their dried foliage.

    If you find that key areas near windows and doors appear vacant in these cold months, try putting an obelisk or other attractive plant support in the blank space. It will catch the snow and display its own architectural beauty.

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