Wordless Wednesday: Hope for the Seasons and Months Ahead

Gerbera jamesonii

Hope for True Spring

Finally, we seem to be turning the corner on "wintry" weather. The Snowdrops I included in my last post, two weeks ago, are still blooming with abandon. I guess longer bloom time is one benefit of a cold start to spring.

Now, with a slight warm-up, the earth is awakening.



Alliums are making good progress.



Rhubarb is emerging.





The Hellebores will bloom very soon.

And the Crocuses are now the stars of the show.

They all bring hope that true spring weather is just around the corner.

Wordless Snowdrops

Galanthus nivalis 'Flore Pleno'

Join Me at the Madison Garden Bloggers Fling!

Dear Friends:

I'm focusing on hopeful things. In June, gardeners will gather in Madison for the Garden Bloggers' Fling, and I'm on the planning committee! The Fling is a meet-up of garden social media communicators that has been held annually since 2008 (except for a two-year hiatus because of COVID). In addition to garden bloggers, others who can attend include YouTubers, vloggers, Instagrammers, and podcasters...basically, anyone with an online, regularly updated, public outlet for sharing gardening content.

The dates this year are Thursday, June 23, through Sunday, June 26, and you can learn more and register here: Fling registration.

I may be a little distracted in the weeks ahead as we close in on the event.

In addition to Fling planning, my focus now is on the spring garden, my indoor potted plants, and signs of new life, new hope, and new blooms.

Sedum hybridum

Lantana camara 'Bandana Rose'

Gerbera jamesonii

Passiflora incarnata

Tithonia rotundifolia 'Goldfinger'

Oxalis vulcanicola 'Zinfandel'

Because of numerous tasks that surround preparing for a major event, I may not be as present here in the blog space for a bit, but I will visit from time to time, and I will be back and active by midsummer. And I'd love to meet more of you, in person, at the June 22 Garden Bloggers Fling!

Wordless Signs of Hope

Galanthus nivalis 'Flore Pleno'

Helleborus orientalis

Zinnia elegans 'State Fair Mix'

Think on These Things

Every year about this time, the Dwarf Korean Lilacs (Syringa meyeri) perfume the neighborhood, and the butterflies really start to congregate in the garden. I've seen a couple of monarchs and several tiger swallowtails. This female swallowtail had my heart aflutter because it was right outside the kitchen window and I was able to grab my camera fast and get a few shots (though through a screen). Something didn't seem quite right, though.



It wasn't until I downloaded the photos from my camera memory card that I realized she had two severely damaged wings. Her tails were completely gone. Wow, something must have tried to take a bite?



Yesterday was a very sad day for so many reasons. The country and the world are sick and hurting and grieving. It's been hard to move forward.



This persistent, beautiful survivor provided a sign of hope.



On a difficult day, it was helpful to think on this simple thing.

******

"Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report, if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things."    ~Philippians 4:8 KJV

Wordless Hints of Things to Come

Aquilegia canadensis

Hydrangea macrophylla

Sedum kamtschaticum

Iris germanica

Helleborus x hybridus 'Sandy Shores'

Syringa meyeri

Coming Soon to a Garden Near YouAfter the Polar Vortex

Forcing Spring

Plant of the Month: Florist's Cyclamen

I write this post not with any pretense about success in growing indoor potted plants. On the contrary, my record with them, in general, is not good.

I can remember my dear grandmother's home filled with African violets that spanned the color range, and she was able to keep them growing for years on end, with repeat full and lush blooms. She may have had a Cyclamen or a few other blooming plants among her collection--I don't recall.

My experience is not as impressive. Historically, I've killed more indoor potted plants than I'd care to share here. But that doesn't stop me from trying. And in recent years, I've had more success (or perhaps luck). One of the plants that has surprised me with its longevity and lush growth is a Cyclamen plant I picked up four years ago.



Most potted Cyclamens are florist cultivars of C. persicum, a species native to the Middle East, Northern Africa, and Eastern Europe. The species has a limited range of allowable conditions in the wild, which probably accounts for its persnickety temperament.

Now, mind you, I don't necessarily follow the rules when it comes to dealing with potted plants--particularly those that go dormant. (Visit this link to learn more about conditions preferred by potted Cyclamen plants.)  I don't have the patience to put them away in a dark room, water them at a specific time, hang them upside down, and do the hokey-pokey. But for the purposes of documentation, here are the conditions and steps I've followed that have kept this little Cyclamen plant going and flourishing since 2013:



• I first transplanted my Cyclamen from its plastic retail container to the ceramic pot it inhabits to this day. I've never transplanted it again, though many recommend that practice annually after summer dormancy. This particular container has good drainage, but I used only regular potting soil with small pebbles on top for mulch/decoration.



• During the winter, the plant lives on a small table on the north side of the sunroom, which faces south. Here, it receives indirect light from dawn until dusk. The room is partially heated, but is closed off from the rest of the house. Daytime temperatures range from about 50F to 70F, depending on the sunlight, the day length, and the outdoor air temperatures/wind conditions. Nighttime temps range from about 38F to 50F. The room is more humid than the rest of the house, but on dry, cold days I do mist the plants to maintain slightly higher humidity.



Bloom time for my little Cyclamen plant begins anywhere from early January to mid-February. I don't know why it varies--probably because I don't follow the rules. It's always exciting to see the first budding stems pop out of the soil. At first, they look very much like the foliage stems, until you begin to see the twirled pink shape of the buds.

The plant blooms, generally, through the early spring. The foliage continues to flourish until early summer.



• I place the plant outside (in a shady spot protected from heavy rainfall) with most of my other potted plants as soon as nighttime temperatures consistently remain above about 40F--generally sometime in early May. If we have a very cold night with a frost predicted, I move the plants to a warm porch and cover them. Usually, by mid-May, we're beyond the threat of nighttime frost, and I do a jig.

• When the foliage begins to wither and fall off, I slowly reduce watering. It is at this point, I believe, that many people give up on potted Cyclamens and throw them out (because I almost did, myself, more than once). But I encourage you to simply ignore the plant for a few months. A little water is OK, but the plant is now dormant and is better off neglected for a bit so it can rest during the heat of the summer.

In some years, the Cyclamen retains a few leaves even through the summer. In other years, it entirely loses its leaves and I can't believe there's a chance it will come back. But then it does! Tiny new shoots emerge from the soil and begin to fill in.



• Before the first frost, I bring my plants indoors for the winter. For me, this happens sometime between early and mid-October. By this point, the Cyclamen is starting to look like a lovely potted foliage plant, perfect as a holiday accent piece.



And so the cycle continues. If you've ever tried to grow florist's Cyclamen and have given up, I encourage you to try again. It's easier than you might think, and the hardest part is having faith it will resurrect from its summer dormancy. When it does, it's hard to describe the thrill of seeing new life at a time when most other plants are going dormant.