In summer the large crape myrtle (Lagerstroemia) at the North Tisbury bank is covered with tidy foliage and panicles of white flowers, cloaking its dramatic form and bark. Look now, though: The smooth trunks and branch forms, and bark coloration and mottling, of the multi-stemmed tree, are dramatically attractive. Anything growing that shows unusual winter-worthy traits at this time of year is enormously satisfying, whether in the home garden or in the public landscaping that we all enjoy as we go about our Island ways.
Outdoors in the garden
I found a Japanese maple with ice damage: main leader fractured and dangling over. It was not difficult to fetch the tree saw and cut out the broken wood, but I was frustrated: It is vastly disappointing that the tree must now reconfigure itself. It has shrunk back by about eight feet, and that just when it had left adolescence and become an adult tree.
Take time to check for additional damage after each storm, if possible. First, however, take a minute to replace pruning saw blades and sharpen the blades on pruners and loppers, and oil moving parts. Your wrists will thank you, and so will the plants, as your pruning cuts will be clean and sharp. Remember too to look for the branch collar, and cut close to, but outside, this faint ridge in the bark where branch exits trunk.
Although winter conditions may seem endless, at some point they cease, and then it may be late for pruning fruit trees or those that weep sap profusely. Cultivated blueberry bushes may be pruned now. Look for vigorous, young growth with fat buds (the flower/fruit buds), which will bear fruit this year. Prune away twiggy, woody, lichened, or grayish growth. Side-dress with dried blood or other organic fertilizer for acidic plants.
Late February is usually the time to cut back Class III clematis, including the vigorous autumn-blooming clematis. Find a strong pair of buds low down, and cut back last year’s growth to that point. Late February is time to “hatrack” hollies, if you have decided to manage an ill-shapen or awkward holly tree. It is also the “best time” to transplant hollies (Polly Hill).
Squirrel lore
After one of the many recent spells of high wind, I found a complete squirrel nest at the foot of the large tree it had been seemingly securely lodged in. I was delighted and fascinated, having often wondered about the interiors of these assemblages, known as dreys, which, high above my ability to pry, look merely like leafy branchlets casually stuffed 30 feet up in the crotch of a tree.
The nest was beautiful. A thick course of oak leaf clusters had been layered into a large ball, about 12 or 14 inches across and an inch or more thick, each leaf laid flat and overlapping in a manner that made it look as if it was quite waterproof. Inside the layer of oak leaves was a thick cushioning of thin, fine bark strips.
Looking around, I saw that Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel had not had far to travel to acquire this lovely orange-brown “excelsior”: The trunk of the neighboring cryptomeria tree had been industriously peeled until it too shone a bright orange-brown. Inside the tier of bark strips lay the final inner sanctum: a warm and fluffy layer of soft, feathery Japanese maple leaves. These are clever animals, with a lovely lifestyle. Too bad they annoy humans by penetrating attics, raiding bird feeders, and stealing from vegetable gardens.
We had tired of those endless gray squirrel raids on the bird feeders when we stocked sunflower seed, despite baffles and “squirrel-proof” designs, so we switched to golden safflower seed. This is a foil to the half-dozen cute but pesky rodents we have here; it is said that they do not enjoy safflower seed.
Imagine my dismay in Sunday’s bitter morning conditions to see no birds whatsoever at any of the suet and seed feeders! All the birds had seemed to like the safflower seed on Saturday, and the feeders were all stocked in a timely manner for this frigid cold spell. Since then one hairy woodpecker, one sparrow, and one chickadee have been the sole visitors to the feeders. I fear the worst sort of mortality for these small birds.
2016 Perennial Plant of the Year
Each year the National Garden Bureau chooses a perennial plant as the Perennial Plant of the Year. Very often, I confess, the choices have left me less than excited. This year’s choice, however, gives me great pleasure, as it will thousands of American gardeners, because it is Anemone x hybrida ‘Honorine Jobert.’ The following is adapted from the Perennial Plant Association.
Anemone was found in China and other Asiatic countries, as well as the Mediterranean region. The origins gave rise to the common name Japanese anemone or windflower. This anemone has existed in the English garden at the Royal Horticultural Society in Chadwick since at least 1848. Before then, many of the fall-flowering anemones were a very light pink.
Ten years later a fantastic new hybrid occurred in Verdun, France, in the Jobert Gardens, and was named Honorine Jobert. It was a sought-after cultivar by the time of the American Civil War, and since has become a classic perennial in gardens of the world.
Plants are clump-forming and erect. The long, wiry stems make the plant look airy and graceful. Honorine Jobert grows three to four feet tall. In late summer, two- to three-inch flowers of Honorine Jobert explode from dainty pink, silvery buds into petaloid-shaped flowers. Two- to three-inch flowers are bright white with a green center. Honorine Jobert grows in USDA zones 4 to 8, and is not bothered by insects or deer.