Watch that Small Print

Everything outdoors is white, so the sight of colourful flowers pictured on seed packets raises the spirits with dreams of a colourful garden. Like any package, the front sells the product while the reverse contains the information, and it’s similar on most seed packets, but it’s usually in small print.

The back of the package contains the instructions to ensure that colourful garden is achieved. Some are brief and others extensive, but I’ve a feeling not everyone reads them because the question I often hear around this time of year is “Can I start my seeds now?”

With exceptions, in most cases it’s far too early now. It usually states something like start seeds indoors six weeks before the last frost. In this area, a final frost is around mid May, although the May 24 weekend is a safer bet, so counting back from that date means don’t start those seeds until late March. I know, some of us simply can’t wait.

The timing for planting seeds directly in the garden should also be included. Other information, depending on the plant, will note how deep to plant the seeds, or whether they should be covered or not. Germination temperature is also important. If your indoor planting place is too cool, the seeds may not sprout, even though you stare at them daily — as we do, searching for any sight of a green speck.

It might say certain seeds need stratification, that is, to be subjected to a warm or cold temperature for a spell to simulate what they would go through naturally when sown outdoors. Some need warmth to trick them into thinking it’s spring and others need to be chilled as they would in the garden during winter. This why many gardeners like winter sowing outdoors in plastic containers.

Some types of seed need to be soaked in water to weaken the outer husk to improve germination, while others need to be scarified, that is, the coating must be damaged or weakened to allow the root to emerge.

Within the fine print, there might be a date by which the seed should be sown before it’s no longer viable. If you have old packs around and that info isn’t there, you could try the baggy method to determine if the seed is still good. This means placing the seeds on a wet paper towel inside a sealed plastic bag. They can then be transferred to a pot after they’ve germinated.

Also included should be directions on where to plant relative to sun or shade that will produce best results. The seed packet might be lacking in information, and many don’t when found at a swap or passed on from a friend, so ideally, if the botanical name of the plant is listed, it will help you find more information. Now, order those seed!

Welcome Gifts From the Past

Deep in winter I’m taking a deep dive into a memorable garden trip. While in England a few years back, I slipped over the border into Wales, only my second visit. It was there that I discovered the world famous Bodnant Garden, not just one garden but many, visited annually by almost 300,000 plant and garden lovers.

Wales and the other countries of the UK are fortunate that many of the mansions and stately homes and their elaborate gardens built in the nineteen century by wealthy industrialists have been saved for the benefit of all by the National Trust, the heritage and nature conservation charity.

A National Trust property since 1949, Bodnant was founded in 1874 by Henry Davis Pochin who’d made his fortune as an industrial chemist. The property was then developed by his daughter Laura McLaren, Baroness Aberconway, and further generations of the family.

They had 32 hectares (80 acres) to play with and over time, in went majestic Italianate terraces and tranquil borders filled with rare plants from everywhere plant hunters ventured in the early 1900s. One, Frank Kingdon-Ward, travelled to the Himalayas, one of his many expeditions during the 1920s and 1930s and returned with new species for Bodnant like the Himalayan Blue Poppy (Meconopsis betonicifolia).

The gardens hold four National Collections of plants including magnolias and rhododendrons, making it the place to go to see all species in one place. Over the last 20 years new areas named the Winter Garden, Old Park Meadow, and the Yew Dell have been added. There’s also a riverside garden called The Far End described as a good walk — it was. New areas are still being planned that include a gorge garden with a waterfall. Bodnant is known for its outstanding trees, twenty-two listed as Champion Trees, noted for their age, height and horticultural merit.

Unfortunately, my fall visit was the wrong time of year to see the beautiful sunshine yellow Laburnum arch, the longest laburnum arch in the UK, best seen during May and June. However, I wasn’t disappointed with the dizzying variety of plants and features. Among them was the Pin Mill, not only for its tranquil appearance but also the story of how it arrived there.

The structure was originally built far from Bodnant as a lodge or garden house in Woodchester, Gloustershire around 1730. It was later used as a pin factory making dressmaking pins, then it became a hide store before being abandoned and dilapidated. It was then discovered in the 1930’s by Henry McLaren, the 2nd Baron Aberconway who had it dismantled, transported and restored at Bodnant.

In 1952 it was designated a Grade II listed building as a fine example of an early Georgian garden building — hardly a shed. Available as a wedding venue, the turreted building in white with grey roofs stands in a backdrop of greenery with lawns in front lining a canal-like water feature, stretching away to form a perfect vista.

Wedding or not, if you’re ever in Wales, don’t miss Bodnant Garden.

Fake Flowers

 While gazing at the gorgeous images displayed in seed catalogues, you might be wondering, have I seen that plant before, and is that a new colour? We always assumed catalogues had accurate representations of plants, and those of reputable suppliers always do. However, the world is changing and especially the online world where fact checkers, even for plants are lacking.

In the early days gardeners relied on drawings and descriptions of the material in catalogues. Even Group of Seven artist J.E.H. MacDonald, designed many catalogue covers for Sheridan Nurseries. Photography eventually became the norm, first black and white then colour. These images depicted plants in an actual garden before it became easier to produce better ones under lighting in a studio.

There, images could be more easily adjusted to ensure the colours matched the real plant. I picture ex fashion photographers using their skills to show flowers in their best light where you might hear them cajoling poor plants with “Stretch that stem, unfold that petal, tint that pink, more stamen, more stamen. Work with me, work with me. Come on pansy — show me a pout.” 

It’s hard to know what’s genuine now when nefarious vendors online have realized there’s a huge market of gardeners waiting to be tempted by new plants in never-before-seen colours. First it was editing software which made it easy to generate images, and strange new ones appeared. Now we’re dealing with artificial intelligence that can conjure up anything a creator desires.

We’ve long been awaiting a truly blue rose. With only a few clicks, it’s easy to produce an image of a blue rose with yellow polka dots or pink stripes, or any combination. And the same goes for vegetables that can be made to appear larger, taller, and produce amazing crops. Stick these images on social media with a thrilling description of a revolutionary new plant plus a link to where to send your money — click, click.

Seasoned gardeners might not be easily fooled, even though some probably are. I know I’ve been tempted. Beginners can’t be expected to recognize flowers as obviously fake when they’ve only recently discovered there are thousands of plants in a rainbow of colours to choose from. Of daylilies alone, there are over 80,000 registered varieties in vibrant colours and diverse shapes. So why not a rainbow rose?

It might not be easy to determine the legitimacy of a company, but all plants have, or should have, a genuine botanical name listed somewhere. But what copywriter wants to clog up advertising text with challenging words when a catchy new name attached to an AI image will produce instant clicks. It can give anyone a headache trying to remember the Latin names of all the plants in their garden but knowing that a plant should have a legitimate one will help avoid those budget breaking clicks. 

That’s the plants. Don’t get me started on the products that claim to produce plants even more productive or floriferous. Buyer beware — everywhere. Check your facts — click, click.

Gnomes on the Loam

 Okay, hands up. Who owns one? I have one. I call him Gneville. He hangs out on the shady side of the garden and he’s only visible for a few weeks in spring after the snow melts, then he vanishes into the foliage for summer. If I didn’t point him out, or introduce him, you wouldn’t know he was there. Gneville is a gnome, of course, a solid concrete gnome standing just short of knee height. I do talk to him occasionally, but he never answers.

I’m not fond of items in the garden that don’t grow, and Gneville sure doesn’t. However, garden gnomes might be on a revival after the Lord of the Rings prequel arrived on screens last summer. I don’t think gnomes were featured, but there were dwarves — close enough, I say, as they’re often confused. 

Nevertheless, garden gnomes have always been popular, and since this area has strong cultural association with Germany, it’s important to remember that the first garden gnome (der Gartenzwerg) was made in Graeferoda, Thuringia, Germany in the early 1800's.

Gnomes were first described by Swiss alchemist Paracelsus during the Renaissance period as magical creatures who didn’t like to mix with humans. Whatever the origin, each country has a name for these mythical beings. In England, they’ve been referred to as Nains or Hobs. Hobs? Wait a minute. What does that make me?

Mythical or not, latter day garden gnomes have been on the move. They quickly spread throughout Europe, arriving in England in 1840 at the estate of Sir Charles Isham, the 10th Baronet of Lamport Hall where they acquired the gnome moniker. Only one of the original batch has survived. Nicknamed Lampy, he’s on display and insured for £1 million.

They certainly became popular in the UK. In fact, Ann Atkin, of West Putford in Devon had a world record collection of 2,042 friendly garden gnomes. Then after forty years of gnome collecting, Anne decided in 2021 to close her reserve. After a winter in storage, they are now on display again entertaining summer visitors at Merry Harriers Garden Centre in the village of Woolsery. With a name and address that could have come out of Tolkien’s Middle Earth, they must feel right at home.

In European mythology, gnomes are described as hard working and responsible, but this bunch can be seen snoozing, aimlessly riding farm animals, and indulging in all manner of activities, as gnomes do. There’s even a section for sporty ones called the Gnome Run. Like Lampy, the value has risen for rare garden gnomes and collectors will pay plenty, especially if they’re the old iron or terra-cotta versions.

As part of the landscape in Britain and Germany, rare ones are seen by some as a status symbol, then there are others who go for quantity over quality. A few years ago, I was driving through a village in England when I simply had to stop the car when I spotted a donsy, the collective term for gnomes. Before me was a front yard filled with more gnomes than plants, an impressive sight. And yet they’re not popular everywhere. They were banned from the gardens at the Chelsea Flower Show until the Royal Horticultural Society relented and allowed them for one year only in 2013. Even a pair of royal gnomes made an appearance.

Whether you are a fan of garden gnomes or not (George Harrison welcomed them into his garden and even included them on an album cover), they’re certainly controversial characters, and if they bring the good luck that they’re reputed to, then I’d say every garden needs one. 

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Terrarium Time

It will be weeks before we’re in the garden. That is, those who have a garden. Given all the high-rise condominiums going up, city residents without a backyard will soon outnumber those who do have a patch of green. It’s especially hard for those who are used to having a garden, so why not a mini garden, a terrarium. They can be easier to maintain than trying to keep houseplants alive in an arid home.

I have three or four terrariums on the go at different times. The mini gardens help me endure the long wait for spring to arrive. They range from the size of a lightbulb to as big as a double air fryer. A terrarium is like a small zoo for plants and are ideal for small houseplants that originate in the lower light humidity of a rainforest, not in a toasty home. Once established a terrarium is easy to maintain. 

A typical plant terrarium is a closed eco system. However, if used for cacti or other succulents, then it must remain open to provide more desert-like conditions, otherwise they won’t last long sweating it out in sticky box. Here, I’m focusing on a closed terrarium. 

You can purchase a new one, although most of the ones I see are small, big enough for only a plant or two. My larger one is designed for housing reptiles. The plants are happy and take little care, especially as there’s no need to check every day to see if they need watering. If you have an old aquarium or reptile tank sitting around, it will only need a glass or clear plastic cover that can be opened slightly if necessary to control the humidity. 

The first thing you must do before starting to build yours, whether brand new or not, is to sterilize it, or at least clean it well, which is my lazy approach. Next is soil. Here’s where it can get controversial. Most books, magazines, and YouTube videos will recommend having a layer of gravel below the soil, even adding charcoal. I’ve never done either and I’ve never found it necessary. My terrariums are the happiest with simply a couple of inches or more of a soil-free medium. 

It’s easiest to mix and moisten the soil before placing and that avoids any chance of making it too wet. You can make a few hills and valleys in your mini landscape and add a rock or piece of driftwood to make it more interesting. The soil can be deeper in places depending on the plants you add. Almost any low growing houseplant is suitable, preferably ones that prefer only lower light rather that full sun. If you need colour add varieties of Fittonia, the nerve plant, with their beautiful, bright and colourful veining. 

So, if the fish are floating or Iggy the iguana's been missing for a month, you might as well make good use of that tank. Has the snow melted yet?

The Garden Club

 From The Diary of a Mad Gardener

 January 4    I never would have believed it, but I’m learning Latin. I have to. I dropped by the library to see if any garden books had been returned. Some had, but they were about to be checked out again by Shirl, the garden woman from up the street. She was standing there with a stack under each arm.
    “How did you manage that?” I asked. “Every time I try to find 
a book the garden club gang has scooped them all . . . Hey, wait 
a minute. You aren’t, are you?”
    “Sure am,” she smirked. “I joined up last fall. In fact, I’m the Sergeant at Arms.”
    “Sergeant at Arms,” I said. “But that isn’t fair, Shirl. When 
I tried to join they told me the membership was limited.”
    “Ah,” she smiled. “It is. The Groundling Garden Club is a 
very exclusive club, with distinct advantages.”
    “I can see that,” I said, nodding at the books. 
    “That’s just one of them. We also have the seed exchange and plant swop sown up. Nothing botanical moves in this town without our say so.”
    “So that’s why I always end up with the marigolds. Okay, Shirl, how do I join?” 
    “Easy,” she said. “Beg to be recommended by a member in good standing.”
    “Like you.”
    “Like me.” 
        I begged. “Is that all, then?” 
    “Well,” Shirl replied, “there is the initiation ceremony. 
It’s always a lot of fun—for the established membership.”
    “No problem,” I said. “What’s involved?”
    “Oh,” Shirl said, “I can’t tell you that, but you will have to 
be able to recite the club mission statement in Latin—while blindfolded—and participate in a few exercises.”
    “Blindfolded!” I said. “Exercises? It would be easier to get into the Hell’s Angels.”
    “Probably. We never did make our fresh recruits learn any Latin.”
    “What!”
    “It’s up to you,” Shirl smiled. “But I’d seriously consider it if you want to see a garden book again. Maybe you should renew that dictionary you’re returning.” 

January 5    I renewed the book like Shirl said, and I’ve been working away at the Latin. I’m waiting for a call from her now. She said that for security reasons, the Groundlings’ meetings are held with little advance notice, but I think she’s putting me on. 
I’ve already learned the club motto "Carpe rutila" something about seizing a hoe. All I have to do now is get through the initiation ceremony and I’ll be a Groundling, too, with all the rights and privileges of membership—and books, and seeds. 
It’s kinda exciting, but I admit I’m a bit apprehensive about 
the “other things.” She said when she calls I’m to be ready 
with a trowel and a pair of rubber boots.

January 16    Shirl called and it’s tonight! Tonight, I become 
a member of the Groundling Garden Club. I can hardly wait, although I am feeling a tad anxious about the initiation ceremony. Regardless, I feel I should look my best, so I dug out my old rubber boots from the shed and hosed them down. They were 
in a bit of a mess from the last time I wore them, which was when I waded through a farmyard carrying a pail of garden helper. I did plan to buff them up, too, but when I’d finished washing them off I discovered a hole in the left one, which I suspect accounts for the sock I discovered on the compost heap.
        Instead, I decided to buy new ones. I spoiled myself. I went down to the garden store and fell in love with the finest pair of rubber garden boots on the market. Bright yellow, knee high, with heavy green treads on the bottom that leave an impression of a carrot behind as you walk along. Actually, I had a choice of four vegetables: carrot, leek, pepper, and eggplant. But I went with the carrot to confuse the rabbits. The boots have big, hand sized loops front and back to haul them on with, and there’s even a kind of holster on the side where you can stick your trowel—amazing! 
        I’d say I’m ready to become a Groundling.

January 17    I did it! I am now a probationary member of 
the Groundlings Garden Club, entitled to almost all the rights 
and privileges of membership. Except I’m no longer so sure I 
want to be a member.
        The initiation process was tough, and involved some tests 
that might seem bizarre to the average person; however, I passed with honours. I feel proud that I was able to show them what a committed gardener I am, although there were a couple of difficult moments, and I’m still feeling bad about my new boots. Yes, I’ve been having my doubts about joining the Groundlings Garden Club. They began after we left the meeting.
        On the way home Shirl and I stopped for coffee, and to celebrate my acceptance she bought me a donut. As we ate, 
I asked her how things went with her initiation ceremony. “Oh,” she said, “They waived it for me. I was able to join through the valued applicant process.”
    “Huh!” I said, “A valued applicant process?”
    “That’s what they called it. Actually, it was just good timing. Their old slide projector had recently gone super nova and fried President Bob’s collection of rare weed pictures. They were so desperate that when I offered to donate the one I’ve had sitting in the back of the closet for years, they couldn’t wait to sign me up. The members were so grateful they offered me the presidency. Instead, I agreed to accept the Sergeant at Arms position, providing I was allowed to toughen up the initiation process. 
You were the first to go through the new version.”
    “I don’t believe it,” I said. “Forty members and I’m the only 
one that’s gone through a gruelling initiation. I thought I was joining a select group of gardeners, and now I find out I could have been in for the price of an old slide projector. I have one 
in the back of the closet, too, you know.” 
    “Yes, but does it have a spare bulb?” 
        I don’t think it has any bulb, but I didn’t tell Shirl that. I told her I was disappointed and would be thinking seriously about withdrawing my application. “Whatever you like,” she went on, “but remember, you’re sworn to secrecy. One word about the initiation ceremony and you’re out.”
        After that exchange, I came home and sat in my plant room 
to contemplate the situation. After about half an hour I heard the timer click, then I saw the light: The Groundling Garden Club is corrupt and the whole bunch of them should be impeached.

January 18    I’ve decided. I’m definitely not going to join 
the garden club. I might need library books but I don’t need the Groundlings with their silly initiations and their dumb secret greeting—Secret! I’ve been using it for years—bow slightly, place palms of both hands on small of back, straighten up, and groan.
        As for the initiation, I showed them all right, even if I did experience a little anxiety at first. But only because Shirl relieved me of my brand-new rubber boots as soon I arrived at the meeting. I did feel kinda silly when they blindfolded me and made me stand in a big planter while all the members marched around me chanting Latin. But after ten minutes of that they stopped chanting and began firing garden questions at me; they couldn’t stump me. 
I answered every one correctly.
        After that they put me through the big compost test. I was required to positively identify a number of organic materials by each one’s fragrance. One after another a trowelful was held up 
for me to sniff. I must admit, I was impressive. There were gasps of astonishment as I accurately named each one. I gasped a couple of times myself, too, when I sniffed too hard, but I nailed every single one—peat moss, leaf mold, grass clippings, sawdust, and 
a complete line of barnyard gaspers.
        When I reached the last one the room fell silent as I took my final sniff. Without a doubt it was horse, and I told them so—more gasps. Then a voice from the back called out, “But what kind of horse?” Before speaking, I slowly pulled the blindfold from my eyes and looked around at the expectant faces. The room fell silent, and then I spoke. “Clydesdale,” I said, with authority. 
The crowd went wild.
        I was feeling pretty darn proud of myself at that point, until I pulled on my boots—my brand-new rubber boots—and discovered where they’d been dumping the compost after I’d identified it. And to think that Shirl got in for the price of an old slide projector. I’m calling President Bob today to resign.

Read more of the Mad Gardener

Winter Sowing Soon

I’ll soon be winter sowing, and compared to growing seedlings indoors or under lights, it’s less finicky and costs almost nothing. Winter sowing produces tough, sturdy plants, unlike the weak-kneed specimens grown on a windowsill. You can start anytime over the next couple of months.

Most annuals and familiar perennials, and cool season vegetables can be winter sown, but you won’t have any luck with tender plants or exotic species. A good choice are plants that are referred to as hardy, or come with instructions to direct sow outside in fall or in early spring. These are plants that would normally cast their seed in fall, and then sprout up the moment conditions are right. Sure, in the garden many may be considered weeds, however in my garden they’re more likely to be popular garden plants that I grew the previous year. I look on these as free plants — or grandchildren.

When we grow plants indoors, some seeds come with instructions for special treatment that simulates what they typically experience in their normal outdoor environment. They have to be soaked for a time or scarified, that is, nicking or using sandpaper to wear down the hard husk. Others have to be given a spell in the freezer for the purpose of cold stratification. This freezing and thawing or cool dampness outdoors is what breaks down the tough husk of the seed, allowing it to germinate. To reproduce the same process indoors can be tedious and not always reliable.  Winter sowing takes care of this naturally.

You’ll be pleased to hear there’s no need to go tramping through the snow, but simply plant seeds in jugs and set them on the deck or patio. All you need are a few clear or opaque containers and soil and seeds. Gallon jugs are perfect, and all those windshield washer jugs are fine, just rinse well. Some use two litre water bottles. I really like the large water dispenser bottles. 

First, drill or cut a few small holes in the bottom of the container. This is to allow excess water to drain but not so large that the soil could fall out. If the container has only a very narrow opening, make a couple of extra holes or cuts near the top to allow for air circulation. Next step is to slice open the container about two thirds up on three sides, leaving one side (or a small section if the container is round) to act as a hinge.

Now place soil in the container. Garden soil is fine, but you don’t want to be out digging in the garden at the moment. Most any potting soil will do. Moisten the soil then sow your seed. Cover them as per packet instructions, or if unsure, about the same as the diameter of the seed. Close up the container and tape it shut along the sides but leave the screw cap off. Now all you have to do is set them outdoors. 

If snow buries them, don’t worry. A little snow will fall in and that’s okay too, however, check occasionally to be sure the soil hasn’t dried out. If the weather is especially warm in early spring, remove the tape and open the containers for a while during the day. As the seeds sprout in early spring, you can open them up and leave them open. When the seedlings are large enough they can be planted in the garden.

There, you’re almost gardening already. What a great start to the new year.

Here they come again

 Are you and your houseplants troubled by fungus gnats, those pesky bugs that look like fruit flies, or mini mosquitoes? They come with the territory and your houseplants are their territory, or to be more precise, the soil in which your plants are sitting. If you’ve never been bothered by them, either you’re lucky, or all you grow are cactus and other desert plants — we’ll get to that later.

Fungus gnats are not a threat to animals or children, but they can seriously upset an adult. You’ll know you have them when they rise to greet you as you approach your plants, and they’ll head for your nose because after damp soil they have a fondness for the carbon dioxide you’re emitting. Fruit flies, however, are attracted to fruit rather than soil. Leave a grape on the kitchen counter too long and fruit flies are soon rolling it out the door. Their bodies are orange or brown and a little plumper than the gnats.

The only function of a fungus gnat is to mate and then lay tiny eggs on the soil of houseplants. Adults live about seven to ten days and deposit eggs on the moist soil surface or in soil cracks. Females lay from 100 to 300 eggs in batches of 2 to 30. Eggs hatch in four to six days; larvae feed for 12 to 14 days. The pupal stage is about five to six days. So as fast as you wipe out one batch, there’s another group hatching. The gnats don’t live long. After a week or so it’s off to the undertaker but then new ones arrive and it becomes an endless cycle — unless you take action.

Since you take loving care of your plants and never forget to water them, you’re providing perfect conditions to support them. They love that damp soil full of organic matter, which is why fungus gnats aren’t attracted to the sandy cactus soil of succulents. 

Soaking the soil with a variety of solutions is often suggested, although some can be just as toxic to the user. A safe one is mosquito dunks, which contain BTI, a type of bacteria that kills mosquito larvae, and it is effective on the fungus gnat larvae.

Other advice will recommend you let the plants dry out as much as you dare between waterings, at the same time fluffing up the soil surface with a fork, allowing it to dry quickly. This makes the environment uninhabitable for eggs and larvae. That’s fine if you only own one houseplant, otherwise the task becomes tedious and time consuming. Watering only from the bottom, however, can also help.

An easier solution that I’ve found effective is to add a layer of grit or fine gravel to the soil surface. This simulates a desert, and acts as a barrier to the egg-layers. It’s an attractive mineral mulch. Add a yellow sticky trap to catch the frequent fliers and that usually takes care of fungus gnats. You might even catch a few fruit flies too.

You probably don’t need to know this

Here’s a little trivia to share, however, it might only elicit a few murmurs of huh, okay, or how about that — if you’re lucky. The only occasion when it might be worth repeating is when a conversation has stalled and is almost beyond recovery. It might help if there’s an amaryllis handy, preferably in bloom, or at least sprouting leaves.

It’s then you could pipe up and say, "Although we might call them amaryllis, the correct name is Hippeastrum, a genus of plants from South America.” Right, you needn’t have bothered because few give a hoot about the botanical nomenclature of plants. Botanists do, although they don’t always agree. They long debated whether the ones we know and love belong in the genus Hippeastrum, a group of plants native to South America, or should they be classed as Amaryllis belladonna, a plant from southern Africa?

The argument went on until 1987 when the 14th International Botanical Congress decided our seasonal houseplant was indeed from the genus Hippeastrum. Fortunately, they agreed amaryllis would be a “conserved name”, meaning it was okay to continue calling it what we always have done.

Regardless, these plants that brighten our homes as days shorten are all the result of hybridisation of Hippeastrum species from Central and South America. They’re selected and bred for flower size and ease of forcing in a gorgeous range of colours that continues to expand.

As for Amaryllis belladonna, the one that caused all the confusion, it’s a plant that you’d more likely see growing outdoors. In more temperate regions around the world, it’s become naturalized. One of the common names for it is naked ladies (not the fall crocus), so named, not after the band, but because the flowers bloom before the leaves appear, like the fall crocus. It could be grown in our gardens as a summer flowering bulb, that is if you can find it. 

I’m afraid my suggestion of a garden plant that you can’t easily buy is about as useful as the bit of trivia, so back to our good old amaryllis. You might be unloading one with the groceries right now as they’re currently being sold everywhere. If you also bought a monster garlic or some kind of exotic root vegetable, make sure it’s the amaryllis that goes in a flowerpot, not the soup pot because it is somewhat toxic to humans, but only if you eat a lot. Dogs and cats, however, can become quite ill if they were to chew on a bulb or eat the leaves.

Now that I’ve sorted out the plant that no one was confused about until I brought it up, here’s how to care for it. Some come ready planted with complete instructions, but if you’re starting out with a bare (don’t mention naked) bulb, choose a pot that is slightly larger than the bulb, preferably a heavier one to avoid tipping.

Don't bury the bulb completely in the pot, just two thirds to three quarters deep leaving the shoulders exposed. A specific potting soil isn’t necessary. Place in a warm, sunny location and water sparingly at first as too much can cause rotting. Gradually water more as the leaves and flower bud appear and fertilize every couple of weeks. To prolong blooming, move it to a still bright but slightly cooler location.

Pinch off the blooms as they fade but keep the leaves growing for as long as possible to replenish the bulb. To get it to flower again next winter, sink the pot in the ground outdoors in spring. Cut off the foliage after it dies back, then leave it be until September.

Repot in fresh soil, bring it indoors, repeat the process as above and you can look forward to it blooming a second time — how about that, huh?

A rainforest indoors.

 

 Front opening reptile tank

Given all the high-rise condominiums going up, city residents without a backyard will soon outnumber those who do have a patch of green. It’s especially hard for those who are used to having a garden, so why not a mini garden, a terrarium. They can be easier to maintain than trying to keep houseplants alive in an arid home.

I have three or four terrariums on the go at different times. The mini gardens help me endure the long wait for spring to arrive. They range from the size of a light-bulb to as big as a double air fryer. A terrarium is like a small zoo for plants and are ideal for small houseplants that originate in the lower light humidity of a rain-forest, not in a toasty home. Once established a terrarium is easy to maintain. 

A typical plant terrarium is a closed eco system. However, if used for cacti or other succulents, then it must remain open to provide more desert-like conditions, otherwise they won’t last long sweating it out in sticky box. Here, I’m focusing on a closed terrarium. 

You can purchase a new one, although most of the ones I see are small, big enough for only a plant or two. My larger one is designed for housing reptiles. The plants are happy and take little care, especially as there’s no need to check every day to see if they need watering. If you have an old aquarium or reptile tank sitting around, it will only need a glass or clear plastic cover that can be opened slightly if necessary to control the humidity. 

The first thing you must do before starting to build yours, whether brand new or not, is to sterilize it, or at least clean it well, which is my lazy approach. Next is soil. Here’s where it can get controversial. Most books, magazines, and YouTube videos will recommend having a layer of gravel below the soil, even adding charcoal. I’ve never done either and I’ve never found it necessary. My terrariums are the happiest with simply a couple of inches or more of a soil-free medium. 

It’s easiest to mix and moisten the soil before placing and that avoids any chance of making it too wet. You can make a few hills and valleys in your mini landscape and add a rock or piece of driftwood to make it more interesting. The soil can be deeper in places depending on the plants you add. Almost any low growing houseplant is suitable, but don't mix light-loving flowering plants with ones that prefer shade. If you need colour add varieties of Fittonia, the nerve plant, with their beautiful, bright and colourful veining.

So, if the fish are floating or Iggy the iguana's been missing for a month, you might as well make good use of that tank. Has the snow melted yet?

Note: Shown above is a front opening reptile tank for easy access.