The cutest container garden at the show...

I feel like I need to rinse the palate after my last, slightly acerbic post... so here are pictures of the cutest display of the container garden section. Ravenna Gardens usually take the price in this area, and they didn't make an exception this year, tapping into the world-wide terrarium craze - just as many other things from the 70s, terrariums appear in gardening magazines from Australia to Finland, and in California, Flora Grubb is well-known for her magnificent arrangements.
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Ravenna Gardens filled their tiny booth, called the 'Laboratory of the Terrarium Maker', with miniature landscapes in glass vessels from the brand-new minimalistic to the repurposed ornamental. This tiny show garden was trendy, humorous and well executed, and it definitely deserved its Gold Medal for the best container garden. I would love to have one of these!

The thing I really don't get at garden shows...

is all the tchotchkes, knickknacks, baubles and other trinkets available (and not just at the Northwest one; the Scandinavian shows and even Chelsea are equally quilty in this area...). Anyone willing to explain?  

Gold medal for the 'Birdsong' at the 2012 NW Flower and Garden Show

Above, the lights are tested before the media and judges arrive; there are still some white buckets, brooms and watering cans in the display area.

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Our efforts at the Northwest Flower and Garden Show were rewarded with one of the three Gold Medals given out this year - a great result. The concept of the Birdsong was to celebrate birdlife in the Washington Park Arboretum. Three different habitats for birds - marshland, woodland edge and deeper forest -  were planted with vegetation to provide them with food and nesting places. A bird blind was the only built structure in display. The design was by Bob Lilly, Phil Wood and Roger Williams, all three experienced renowned garden designers and plantsmen.

The bird blind was the only built element of the garden; it imitates the structures that bird watchers use to observe wildlife. I got to attach twigs from the arboretum to the outside of the structure... Most of the garden materials - twigs, whole trees and bags of collected leafs -  came from the arboretum.

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Of course, a show garden rookie like me didn't have anything to do with the concept or design, but I was happy to shovel, cover, carry and plant things. Here are some of my 'achievements': a perfectly naturalistic flow of dry leaves cascading down the little hill at the back of the display (above), and a planting of ferns and small blueberry bushes by the pathway though the show garden. Maybe I can graduate to something a bit more advanced at the next show? Anyway, I loved being part of the show garden team, so I won't mind even if I just have to shovel sawdust again next year.

Below - kinnikinnick planting by me; well done, don't you think...? Birds love to eat the red berries of this native plant. Behind - humming birds love nectar and are especially drawn to red flowering plants, so red camellias were included in the display even if they are not native to the area. Witch-hazels are also an important source of nectar this time of the year.

And just one more of the building stage... just a couple of hours left, and the garden still looks like a mess. But Bob and Phil had full control over the process so we finished in good time, having over half an hour free time to enjoy the results before the judges arrived.

Building "the Birdsong", days 1 and 2

The Arboretum Foundation show garden on the first building day on Saturday. This year's garden is called 'Birdsong', displaying three different habitats for birds to nest, eat and live in - more about it in my next post. Pretty difficult to imagine this as a habitat for birds...

The Northwest Flower and Garden Show starts tomorrow, and I've been helping to build a show garden for the Arboretum Foundation for the last four days.  The process was immensely satisfying for my inner Bob-the-Builder; huge trucks and other power machines around, lots of hammering, sawing and shoveling; and then finally, planting and mulching. After just 4 to 5 hours on site, I came home happy and tired, ready for a warm shower and a glass of wine. Tonight, I'm attending the Opening Night party, so before revealing any of the completed show gardens, I just wanted to show some pictures of the building process. Tomorrow, I'll be back commenting the designs and plants of this year's show - after spending hours on the site watching them emerge from the plastic covered, grey concrete floor, I feel like I really know them in detail...

Sawdust arriving to our booth; tons and tons of it, all to be shoveled by hand to the right locations...

The sawdust, pathways and main trees are in place... way to go. 

Other guys built a small hut/green house; cute, still difficult to say where this is going...

These guys lifted some serious tree stumps into their show garden... wonder how it will come out?

Our natural stone bird bath arriving, it weighs about half a tonne...

Arranging the bird bath in right place is not the lightest task to do.

 Train of fresh, young bulbs and perennials, all to be "sacrificed" on the show garden altar... 

These guys decided to underplant their magnificent, 150-year old Japanese maple with ...pink tulips??

Our plants, most of the native to the Pacific Northwest, starting to arrive. Now just some black mulch on the sawdust, and then the planting starts. I'll be back tomorrow...

Problematic black pussy willows

Sooty catkins of black pussy willow, Salix melanostachys.

I was trying to find more information about black pussy willows, but was blocked by my browser for "adult content"... which is a completely reverse situation experienced by all those people searching the Internet for "naked ladies next door" who land on my blog post about Colchicums, showing pictures of prudish looking pink flowers. What a surprise it must be for them... I need to choose my blog post titles a bit more carefully, I guess.

Anyway, I spotted these black pussy willows at the Washington Park Arboretum. Originally from Japan, they are rare and unusual, which is reason enough to make them desirable for many gardeners. I've seen them in recommended plant lists of many publications during the last couple of years; another reason for that might be that they fit into the garden trend of all things black, from flowers, planters to furniture and built structures.

The small catkins of black pussy willows look quite exquisite combined with other early spring bloomers like witch-hazels, winter honeysuckles and Cornelian cherries. Like many other flowers and plants called black, the scales of their catkins are actually very dark purple. As they age, their anthers turn from brick-red to yellow, which makes a dramatic contrast with the sooty scales. Just like other black plants and flowers, black catkins disappear almost completely into a dark background, so a back-lit position is needed for them to come to their right.

The black pussy willow is a plant that appeals to my appetite for the unusual and unexpected. But lacking the lustrous, glossy hair of their white colored cousins, these black scaly ones look a bit scorched, and it is easy to walk past thinking that the plant is damaged or diseased in some strange way. If I'm completely honest, like many other curiosities of the plant world, they do look best in close-up photos. Still, given the opportunity, I would happily add one to my garden, if then only to provide another discussion item for my gardening friends...

For those with similar browser problems, Arnold Arboretum provides an excellent little plant information document with details about growing black pussy willows.

What I wish today...

... is blue skies, and spring.
Soft, new grass under my toes, and the smell of swelling buds of any colour or sort. I'm not too picky, even dandelions would do today. Just a couple of weeks to go...
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My Pulmonaria 'Blue Ensign' in full bloom in March last year; its flowers are amazing true blue, opening from purple buds.

Scented spirit lifters for the chilly season

Winter jasmine, Jasminum nudiflorum - a bit worn down by the ice storm, but still spreading its sunny fragrance in the cold. 

Despite being lucky with not loosing power or having any other accidents due the snow and ice storms last week, I do feel a bit worn down by the weather... so to cheer me up, I decided to write a list of my favorite plants for the dark, chilly season.

I love scented plants, which shows in my list below. If choosing between two otherwise equally suited plants for a situation, I almost always pick the fragrant one of them. With their perfume, scented plants add dimension by offering pleasure for one more of our senses. Often, they conjure memories and feelings from days past. Sometimes, scents can be healing, like the heady, fresh smell of lavenders that has scientifically been proved to be calming (one of my favorites...). I mostly think of flowers when considering scented plants, but of course even whole plants can be aromatic, from the tiny herbs we use for cooking to the huge cedars and firs of the northern hemisphere and towering Eucalyptus trees of the southern.

Luckily, the gardening year of the Pacific Northwest is never without something fragrant in season, even if the leaden skies and slushy snow of mid winter can otherwise be quite oppressing to one's mood. As a remedy, here are some of my favorite, scented "spirit lifters" for the season, all amazing plants to be included in any garden at the colder latitudes. 

Winter honeysuckle, Lonicera standishii from China, has the same kind of fresh honey scent as its summer flowering relatives.
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Have I worn down you with my witch-hazels yet? Hamamelis x intermedia 'Winter beauty' is gently lemon scented with deep apricot glow.
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Sarcococcas have such modest, little flowers, but their perfume carries far with the winter winds. They flower from December to February, and are excellent near entrances with their fragrance and glossy evergreen leaves.

The delicate scent of snowdrops... do I need to say more?
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Viburnum x bodnantense 'Dawn'; I love it in theory, but in practice its pink flowers often become mottled with brown after the slightest touch of snow, which always looks dull. Their heady perfume lingers around from the darkest November to late February.
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Many cyclamen are slightly scented, but you need to go down on your knees to detect it. Lovely combination here with the cinnamon bark of a Stewartia monadelpha.
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The waxy flowers of Chimonanthus praecox have a strong, spicy scent that reminds me of some of the Actaeas. Describing scents is such an undeveloped area, the only tool available seems to be comparing them to something that is more well-known... 

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Daphnes are well-known for their highly scented winter flowers, but they are sensitive to cold and snow. Mine have turned yellow after the ice storm and will probably loose their leaves in the coming weeks. Luckily, they usually recover, but look pretty shaggy until the new leaves develop.

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An icy emergency

Everything over here is covered with a layer of ice, including these stunning beautyberries in my neighbour's garden...

Our Pacific Northwest corner of the world has been pretty much paralyzed by a snowstorm that started two days ago and transformed into an ice storm today. The situation is quite serious and the Governor of Washington State has actually declared emergency; hundreds of thousands are without power and the temperatures are freezing. The power line repairs are expected to take at least a couple of days, which makes things hard for many families. Our family has been very lucky, with no other damage than a couple of broken Magnolia branches in our front yard.

Schools have been closed for two days now, and we don't expect them to open tomorrow either, so we have spent our days sledding and building snowmen. Also, we've been shaking off the heavy snow from the branches of our marginally hardy Magnolia gradifloras. They can actually take the cold, but their branches are brittle and the first to break when snow gathers on their generously large, evergreen leaves. I don't think they are suited to this climate, but as there are five large young trees in our front yard, the only thing is to try to prevent this from happening. The snow is still falling, so their leaves become coated soon again after they are shaken free.

I feel guilty admitting that I love snow and that think it is very pretty out there, when I know so many are freezing in their homes that will get only colder and darker as the evening falls. I hope the repair crews get their work done fast so everybody will be warm and safe again soon... 

  

Bewitched, once more...

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Winter beauty' glows in warm, tangerine tones...

I do realize that I use the word "favorite" all too often in connection to plants. I guess I just can't help it. So here I am again, telling you that witch-hazels are one of my absolute favorite shrubs. Not only do I find their delicate blooms that send out their spidery petals in the middle of the darkest winter completely enchanting, but I also love their lemony scent that fills the air and greets one long before the flowers can be seen. Unfortunately there is no way to convey their spicy fragrance to you, but at least I can provide some snapshots from my walk in the Washington Park Arboretum in Seattle this morning. Absolutely spellbinding plants, if you ask me. Don't miss them, if you are anywhere nearby.

Hamamelis mollis, a wild witch-hazel species from China.

A scented canopy of starry flowers - Hamamelis mollis.

The lighter tones of Hamamelis mollis 'Pallida'.

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Orange beauty', one of my favorites... oh, did I just say it again?

 Pathways of the Witt Winter Garden.

Hamamelia x intermedia 'Jelena' , with rusty red flowers hiding amidst last year's leaves.

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Hiltingbury' can't decide if it should keep to orange or to pink tones...

Petals of Hamamelis x intermedia 'Ruby glow' are delicately edged with creamy white.

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Diane' has burgundy buds that get a apricot glow when they open up.

A pathway winding under a canopy of fragrant witch-hazel flowers.

My other posts about witch-hazels:

Witch-hazels against mid-winter gloom

Witch-hazels and other mid-winter wonders

The season of pure bliss

It is the first week of January and the first snowdrops are coming out. And I'm not embarrassed to tell once more just how much I love these little guys, the first harbingers of spring to peek up from the soil. Kneeling down in the cool, wet soil to get the best angle of their nodding petals might seem an odd delight, but for a plant deprived January gardener, it surely is one of the fastest ways to bliss...

A family of Galanthus elwesii greeting the pale January sun.