Category: The Gardening Guy

Help your plants make it through winter

If you are like me, you buy new perennials, trees and shrubs every year. Most plants sold locally are hardy, but not all. It’s good to know the “zone hardiness” of plants before you buy them, and how the zone maps work. In a nutshell, the colder the climatic zone, the lower the number.

The U.S. Department of Agriculture has created maps showing the climatic zones of all states and regions. They are based on many years of temperature records, and rate each zone according to the coldest average temperatures in each zone. Summer temperatures are not considered in creating the hardiness zones.

Each zone covers a 10-degree range of temperatures. The coldest zone in New England is Zone 3, which includes places where temperatures each winter range between minus 40 and minus 30 degrees Fahrenheit. Some maps include an “a” and “b” designation to further describe the zones. An “a” is 5 degrees colder than a “b.” So Zone 4a is minus 25 to minus 30, and 4b is minus 20 to minus 25.

Trees and perennial plants that survive in Zone 4, which includes much of Maine, Vermont and New Hampshire, should be hardy to minus 30 degrees, though we often only see minus 20 degrees. Zone 5 is minus 20 to minus 10, Zone 6 covers areas where temperatures range between minus 10 and zero, and Zone 7, which includes much of Rhode Island, temperatures only drop down to zero or 10 degrees above.

All that said, you can grow perennials, trees and shrubs that are not rated to be hardy in your zone. The key is to get them well-established before winter arrives and to provide them with growing conditions that are optimal: sun, soil and moisture levels that correspond to their needs. You probably cannot grow perennials and woodies that are rated for two zones warmer than yours, but one zone is generally possible.

Some trees and shrubs will survive in a colder zone but might not bloom every year. Or ever, for that matter. Here in Zone 4, old-fashioned wisteria vines that do well in Connecticut or Rhode Island will survive but their flower buds (which are set the summer before) are spoiled by our cold, so they do not bloom.

Harvey Buchite of Rice Creek Gardens in Blaine, Minnesota, wanted a wisteria that would bloom in his Zone 4 gardens. He was given a seedling on his wedding day 34 years ago, one started from a seed of a fairly tough hybrid. His turned out to be a wonder vine, and he named it the Blue Moon Wisteria and sold it for many years. It blooms reliably after winter temperatures of 30 below. The reason for its success? Blue Moon, unlike most other wisteria, blooms on shoots grown in the current season — on new wood.

I called Harvey Buchite in 2006 and he reported that even after hard winters it will bloom, and often three times each summer. I’ve had one since 2004 and get a very nice set of blooms each year around the Fourth of July. It usually re-blooms a little in the fall. Others have been developed since then that will bloom in Zone 4, including “Amethyst Falls,” which I grow and like even better.

Survival rates in a cold winter can be improved by mulching the roots of your delicate or borderline-hardy plants. I bought a Japanese andromeda this year, even though it is only hardy to Zone 5. In the fall I spread a thick layer of leaves around the base to keep the roots warm as winter approached. I could have used bark chips instead, which is also a good mulch.

Trees and shrubs extend their roots in the fall up until the ground freezes, and I wanted my little shrub to grow as big a root system as possible. And later, when temperatures drop to minus 20 and below, I wanted to keep the roots protected.

That andromeda was loaded with flower buds when I bought it. I may wrap it with burlap or landscape fabric to protect those blossoms from harsh winter winds, though I haven’t yet. In the long run it will have to survive on its own — I have too many plants to fuss over them all every year. The first year is always the most important — once established, plants are tougher.

Sometimes freezing and thawing of the ground will push a plant up and part way out of the soil. This allows roots to be exposed to the air, freezing and dehydrating. That is almost always lethal. But this usually only happens the first winter after planting. Check new plants after a thaw, and if a plant has popped up, push it back down and mulch it well.

Wrapping shrubs or small trees with burlap or a synthetic, breathable cloth will help to protect flower buds from desiccation and dieback. I find roses in my climate often are badly burned by winter winds, but I rarely do anything to protect them. I just cut back the roses to green wood in April or May, and they bloom nicely. I cut back a nice double red “Knockout” rose to the ground this past spring, and it rewarded me with dozens of blossoms all summer, starting in June.

I do lose some plants to winter conditions most years, but don’t feel bad about that. As I see it, I learn something each time one dies, and losing one plant means I can try a new one! Or, if a particularly loved plant does not survive in one location, I may buy another and plant in a different spot.

Henry’s book, Organic Gardening (not just) in the Northeast: A Hands-On, Month-by-Month Guide has been re-printed and will be shipped to people who ordered it soon.

Featured Photo: Blue Moon wisteria blooms on new wood, so is not bothered by cold winters. Photo by Henry Homeyer.

Winter is a good time to get outside and explore

This is a good time to be outdoors exploring the fields and woods. There is so much to see that will be buried in snow later on. But, you may ask, what is there to see? Trees, winter weeds, animal footprints, signs of insects, shelf fungi on trees, evergreen woodland plants and more. If I had to choose one person to show me the outdoors in winter, it would be Donald W. Stokes, who wrote A Guide to Nature in Winter, which covers all these topics and more.

I find that learning the names and characteristics of plants and animals makes them more interesting. Many people look at all evergreen conifers and call them “pine trees.” But if you know the difference between a white pine and a Canadian hemlock or a balsam fir, you can decide whether you want to grow one or the other on your property.

Donald Stokes’ book explains that if you learn to identify the six most common deciduous trees and the six most common trees with needles or cones, you will know 80 percent of the trees in most northern forests. And you can do this in winter. Bud location, size and shape are good indicators for identifying trees.

1. Maples. As on ash trees, the buds, branches and, later, leaves are arranged opposite each other, while most other trees alternate the location of them on stems. Maples have oval buds that are between ¼ and ½ inch long.

2. Ash. Buds on ash trees are larger than maple buds and are dark and dome shaped. The twigs on ash trees are generally thicker than on maples.

3. Oak. These have clusters of buds at the end of each branch, and the younger trees often hold onto their brown leaves through the winter. Buds and branches appear in an alternating pattern.

4. Beech. The buds on beech are long and pointy. But the most distinguishing characteristic is its smooth, gray bark. There is a beech fungal disease that can mar the bark, making it look like a bad case of acne.

5. White Birch. Most people can recognize white birch by its bright white and peeling bark, but other birch species can have golden or greyish bark. The bark also has long horizontal lines marking it, and they often have catkins hanging from the tips of upper branches.

6. Poplar, also called aspen. These trees tend to grow in clumps in places with poor soil. The upper bark has a greenish tinge, and their buds are variable in color but always have sharp, pointy ends.

Then there are the evergreens:

1. Pines. They have clumps of needles in groups of two, three or five. White pine, the most common, has groups of five long, soft needles.

2. Hemlock. These trees have short (1/2-inch) soft needles with two white lines on the underneath side. There is a short stem between needle and twig.

3. Balsam fir. One-inch needles, also with two white lines underneath but no stem between needle and twig.

4. Cedar. Small, scale-like needles arranged along the twigs.

5. Spruce. Four-sided needles that are uncomfortably sharp to the touch.

6. Larch. No needles in winter, but cones may be present. Stubby twigs on branches.

After that basic list of characteristics, the Stokes book provides interesting details about the various species of trees, and differences within a genus. So, for example, he explains that most wooden sports equipment and the handles of our garden tools are made from ash because it is strong, relatively light, and flexible. And he notes that sycamores, known for beautiful variegated bark, are often hollow when large, and home to nesting mammals like raccoons and skunks.

I was fascinated to read that willow seeds, if washed away and deposited on a muddy bank (in spring), can germinate in two days and grow seven feet during the first year.

Poplars or aspen are often the first trees to grow after land has been burned or damaged by construction of roads. They often appear in clusters, as new trees pop up from the roots. They are not long-lived like maples or oaks, which can live hundreds of years: poplars, Stokes noted, generally last no more than 80 years, and frequently less.

Did you know that the sounding boards of many musical instruments are made of spruce? Stokes points out that it is especially clear of knots and imperfections, and resonates better than other woods.

If you pay attention to your trees, you will learn to identify them by shape and bark. Sugar maples, for instance, have nice rounded tops and older ones have craggy bark. I can identify a white pine from a fast-moving vehicle: branches on the lower part of the tree droop downward, upper branches reach for the sky.

So head outdoors and study the trees along a woodland path. And bring along A Guide to Nature in Winter. Almost anyone will learn something from it in no time.

Featured Photo: Birches have horizontal lines on their bark. Photo by Henry Homeyer.

What worked last year and what didn’t

This past year was a tough one for many of us: isolation due to Covid-19, political turmoil, employment interruptions and more. But in the garden? For me, it was pretty good, overall. It was a very dry summer, but that meant that there were fewer fungal diseases on my tomatoes and phlox. Since a small stream passes through my property the water table is high, and my established plantings did fine with little supplemental watering.

Let’s start in the vegetable garden. What tomatoes did best for me? For sheer production, it was one called “Big Mama.” She is shaped like a plum tomato, but three times the size or more. Flavor-wise it was not spectacular for fresh eating, but it was great for making sauce. I got seeds from Burpee.

My best-flavored tomato? One I bought as a seedling called Hungarian Heart. It is a big, juicy tomato that makes any sandwich memorable. I ate them for breakfast, lunch and dinner when I had them. Seeds for this heirloom tomato are available from The Seed Savers Exchange or Burpee seeds. And since it is an heirloom, you can save seeds from this year’s harvest to use next year.

Equally tasty is a perennial favorite of mine, the Sun Gold cherry tomato — early, relatively disease-free, highly productive. It’s a modern hybrid, so you’ll need to buy seeds or plants every year. But buy them early: They sell out fast. They’re great for snacking or in salads. I also dehydrate them by the hundred and use in soups, stews and salads all winter.

Best-looking early tomato? Blue Beauty. It starts out blue but ripens to be a red tomato with black shoulders. Very productive with six- to eight-ounce tomatoes and a nice flavor. Hybrid. Seeds available from Pine Tree Garden Seeds.

Best annual flowers? My wife Cindy ordered 18 dahlia tubers last winter, and we started them indoors last March in 12-inch pots. We grew them under lights until mid-June, when the soil was warm enough to please this heat-loving flower. They grew purple, pink and white six-inch blossoms on six-foot-tall plants. We had more dahlia plants than any normal people would want, and even after we gave away a few we had a forest of them.

These big plants had to be staked, and the only thing strong enough to support them were one-inch-square hardwood grade stakes, five- or six-footers. We dedicated one eight-foot by three-foot flower bed to them and scattered a few plants elsewhere.

For years I have been trying to find the perfect spot for a nice flowering shrub called Carolina allspice or sweetshrub. I moved it this year for the third time, and finally found a good spot. About 10 years ago I planted it in full sun with moist soil, and the leaves burned. Then I put it in shade, and it didn’t flower much. This year I moved it to a drier location in dappled shade under a pear tree. It grew well and appears to have settled in *well.

Sweetshrub produces nice burgundy flowers in late June. Some varieties are very fragrant. Mine is not. (Note to self: Buy flowering plants when in flower if they are supposed to be fragrant.)

We had a fierce windstorm in 2020 and it partially tipped over a 15-foot catalpa tree that we’d had for three years. I was able to push it back up to vertical position but worried that it was unstable. I tied it to three stakes for a while. Then I had the idea to place a large stone over the root ball on the side that had lifted up. That really stabilized it, and I removed the ropes, which had begun to dig into the bark. So far, so good, despite strong winds this fall.

For years I have been frustrated by weeds that infested a walkway through a terraced area for flowers. Goutweed and creeping grasses were seemingly impossible to eradicate, especially since the roots could hide under the large flat stones I had used as stepping stones. This year my wife, Cindy, decided to make it better.

First we removed all stepping stones and she dug out the weed roots. She hired three teenagers to wheelbarrow away the soil and help with the digging as she excavated the path. They dug out a pathway about eight inches deep, two to three feet wide and 80 feet long. They then put down six inches of one-inch crushed stone and covered it with landscape fabric. Then they edged it with bricks standing on edge and filled it with rounded pea stones about half an inch across.

The project was a huge success: For the first time ever, we had no weeds in the walkway. Not one, all summer. Stone, with no soil mixed in, will not grow weeds and the bricks kept soil in the beds from getting into the pathway. We will be on the lookout for scraps of goutweed that might pop up at the edges of the walkway next year, but the landscape fabric will keep any scraps of root from sending up shoots.

Each year is different. Each year certain flowers or vegetables are supremely happy, and others sulk. That’s part of the fun of gardening: remembering the good, learning from the bad, and looking forward to the next year. My best wishes to you all for 2021.

Featured Photo: Calycanthus or sweetshrub is a shade-loving shrub I love. Photo courtesy of Henry Homeyer.