All warmed up and ready to plant?

This has been an ideal year for spring flowers; the tulips and daffodils have never looked so good for so long. This may be the traditional May 24 planting weekend, but those cool nights ahead mean don't rush to plant tender annuals -- maybe perennials.  If you find the garden centres busy, and you will, don’t worry that you’re going to miss the planting window. It doesn’t close right after this weekend.

Way back when most plants came in cell packs (they’re still around) grown by small local nurseries, there was always an urgency to finish planting as soon as possible, even though they wouldn’t budge if the soil hadn’t warmed up, although cool season vegetables were the exception.

With a trend towards larger, more mature ornamental plants in individual pots, timing is less critical. These plants are well rooted, and it isn’t essential that they have to be planted this weekend. With a little extended care to keep them healthy, they can be planted well into June or even through summer. If it turns out to be hotter and drier than a summer day in Death Valley, they will need extra attention. The important thing is to not let the soil completely dry out after they’re in the ground or in a planter.

To protect plants from too much sun, I’ve used an old umbrella on occasion to provide some needed shade, but only for something special I’ve been nurturing for months. In the vegetable garden, a floating row cover can help protect those cool season plants like lettuce and spinach.

Also known as garden fabric, a floating row cover is lightweight, thin, and white. Typically made from a synthetic material that doesn’t absorb moisture, it still allows rainwater to pass through while reducing the amount of sunlight. Since it’s lightweight, plants continue to grow beneath it, hence the name. These covers also keep out insect pests, but they should be opened for plants that need to be pollinated.

If you do use a floating cover, be sure to anchor the edges or it will be floating a lot further than planned when the wind comes up. It can be used again in fall to extend the season by providing frost protection.

Whether you plant this weekend or later, one thing that will help your flowers and vegetable
considerably when the sun is beating down, is mulch. In nature, there’s almost always some kind of protection on the surface of the soil. In woodland it’s a layer of leaves, and on meadows it’s the decaying plants. Back in the 1930s, when vast expanses of soil on the southern plains of the US and the Canadian prairies were exposed for agriculture, the devastating dust bowl was the result.

Fortunately, we’re not in Kansas, Dorothy, but adding a layer of mulch on your vegetable garden or flowerbeds will help the soil retain moisture, and it will keep weeds down. Over the years I’ve used a variety of organic materials: manure, mushroom compost, wood chips, straw, or shredded bark. But especially leaves; after six months piled at the bottom of the garden, mine are partly decomposed, and they’re so matted together they don’t blow around. I use them everywhere, and the best thing about leaves is that they’re free.

I usually wait a week or two after planting before adding mulch. It allows the soil to warm up and I avoid burying any stray seedlings that I might want to keep. I don’t need mulch among dense plantings as the plants serve the same purpose.

Now, take a last look at those tulips; summer weather is on the way at last and they won’t be around much longer. Watch the weather!

Bluebells

The bells are ringing, and you won’t hear a sound, but the fragrance will be there to enjoy, and the colour, well the colour. Blue of course, bluebells. I’m waxing nostalgic here thinking of the ancient woodlands of England where I grew up. In spring they’re awash with the much-loved, nodding heads of the bluebell that rise above the floppy, strap-like foliage. They’re an incredible wildflower spectacle, millions of them carpeting the woods with a violet glow. As children we’d always visit the woods to pick a few to display and enjoy the fragrance at home. The fragrance is redolent of hyacinths but not as strong.

I should really call it the British bluebell rather than English as they grow elsewhere in the British Isles, including Scotland where there’s another plant called bluebell, but that one doesn’t flower until summer. Known as the harebell in England, Campanula rotundifolia is called the bluebell of Scotland. It’s also a pretty plant with bell-shaped flowers that are a paler violet-blue.

The botanical name of the English bluebell is Hyacinthoides non-scripta,
which sounds like something you’d pick up at the pharmacy. Hyacinthoides is from Prince Hyacinthus of Greek myth. Non-scripta means unlettered to distinguish the bluebell from the similar-looking hyacinth. It’s often been called wild hyacinth as it does have the same strap-like foliage and it also grows from a bulb. Each one produces a single stem that droops with the nodding, bell-shaped fragrant flowers.

It is native to western Europe but grows especially well in the UK where cooler conditions are most suitable. It’s a protected species there, and yet it is under threat, not from the usual suspect — loss of habitat, which it is, but from a family member, the Spanish bluebell (Hyacinthoides hispanica). The Spanish bluebell is similar in appearance except the stems are more upright with flowers all around the stem, rather than drooping from one side like the English bluebell, and unlike the English, the flowers of the Spanish bluebell have no fragrance.

A more vigorous plant, it was introduced into the UK by the Victorians as a garden plant, only to escape into the wild and crossbreed with the native species, resulting in a hybrid, potentially out-competing the native.

Lovely as they are, both the Spanish and British bluebells species can become, if not invasive, aggressive in areas where they’ve been introduced. Because of a similar climate on the west coast, they spread easily in Vancouver gardens, and even here in Ontario it has been noted as potentially invasive.

They grow well enough in Ontario gardens hardy to zone five, and I have had a well-behaved clump in my garden that hasn’t budged from where I planted it. Still, it is important to keep an eye on non-native plants.

However, we have no need of those other bluebells because we have our own unrelated native one, Mertensia virginica. The common name is Virginia bluebells, a member of the borage family. It grows in rich, moist woodland from Georgia in the southern US and north to Quebec, here in Ontario, and in my garden.

It is listed as an edible plant, including the flowers, and it has many uses in traditional medicine of Indigenous peoples, including tuberculosis treatment, as a remedy for whooping cough, and even as an antidote for treating poison. If under the weather, it would have been given as a tonic made from this plant.

They might have their own bluebells in the UK, but they also like our Virginia bluebells enough that they’re a popular garden plant there. The Royal Horticultural Society has even given Mertensia virginica the Award of Garden Merit.

Blue, blue my world is blue . . .

No Mow May?

Anyone who has cultured a completely weed free lawn won't be too invested in the idea. Besides, leave a weed free lawn to continue growing won’t help anything, other than produce cattle fodder, and when the grass is a foot high, possibly harbouring those nasty tics, it will need a brush cutter or that scythe to cut it down. Meanwhile kids and dogs will have to play in the street and the family spring barbecue will have to be cancelled.

As for an already weed filled lawn, if the owner cared, it will grow tall as well, except, being filled with weeds, there might be a crop of flowers for the benefit of wildlife. But will there? Maybe a little if clover is flowering, but it’s more likely to be non-native plants like creeping Charlie and dandelions that have already taken over.

But wait, according to another popular internet meme, aren’t dandelions an early source of food for bees, and we should let them grow. It’s not as simple as that. Despite valid concerns about bees having pollen and nectar available, hungry bees swarming around dandelions are a rare sight, and if they do attract a few visitors, it’s more than likely they’re non-native honeybees.

Dandelions do offer a good source of nectar but the pollen isn’t as nutritious as other sources. The smart bees are in the trees, especially fruit trees which bloom around the same time as dandelions. I don’t know if anyone has noticed, but even if bees were interested in dandelions, there are millions, if not billions of the yellow beauties around any city. They’re growing well on playing fields, boulevards, and lots of backyards. There’s plenty to go around for any bee that fancies them, so I wouldn’t worry about mowing them or not.

For anyone who wants to help bees and other wildlife (except tulip ravishing rabbits) there are better ways than not mowing in May. Plant fruit trees, even ornamental ones, or add a flowerbed filled with early blooming spring flowers.

A fence to fence, bright yellow yard might be better than nothing for bees, but not nearly as good as a garden filled with a range of plants. And the place will look a lot better than a bright yellow shag carpet.

A Pretty Little Menace

They’re a beautiful sight and can be seen each spring when they turn a green lawn blue for a week or so, usually in April. But is that a good thing? The flower responsible for this transformation is scilla, sometimes called squill, and confusion exists because it could be due to two different plants. The difference isn’t obvious because the small flowers are usually admired from a distance otherwise you might have to flop down on your knees for a closer look. Both plants have similar strap-like leaves and grow from bulbs, reaching only ten to 20 centimetres (four to eight inches) tall.

The blue flowers that you might have seen on your morning walk are most likely either Scilla siberica or a species of chionodoxa, except to cause confusion, chionodoxa has been reassigned as a section now within the scilla genus, so scilla they are.

There are many different species in each genus, but the common ones here are the deep blue Scilla siberica or Chionodoxa luciliae, which can also be pink or white. Even the Royal Horticultural Society states there is some debate over which species are commonly grown in gardens, at least in the UK where it has naturalized, at the expense of other plants. Even so, the RHA have given three species of scilla their prestigious Award of Garden Merit.

Botanical nomenclature aside, I’ll refer to them here on under the original names or we’ll all get confused. First, Scilla siberica which, despite the name did not originate in Siberia, but southwestern Russia, across the Caucasus and over to Türkiye, the new official name for Turkey — more confusion. Chionodoxa originated further south than scilla, on the islands of the eastern Mediterranean and over to Türkiye.

Scilla siberica is the one with only a few dark blue flowers on each stem. They droop similar to English bluebells, but in full sun the flowers sometimes turn slightly upwards. If you do get down on your knees for a closer look, you’ll spot a key difference between the two.

The anthers on scilla are almost black and protrude a little beyond the blue petals, while the anthers on the upward facing, star-shaped flowers of Chionodoxa luciliae are compact and white. Chionodoxa also produces more flowers on each stem, up to sixteen, though the plant itself is a little stunted compared to scilla. The typical flowers are a paler blue with a white centre, but there are also varieties in pink or white. 

Both species were introduced to North America as ornamental garden plants, popular because they’re cold-resistant and they flower early, in some areas as soon as the snow leaves, hence one of the common names for chionodoxa, glory of the snow. They all sprout up in full sun before the trees leaf out, then go dormant for the rest of the year.

When planted in a lawn they vanish with the first mowing. Even in that blue lawn you spotted, a colony might have begun with a few bulbs, planted like crocus, but these plants self-seed profusely and will carpet a lawn and spread into a flower bed or even a roadside given the chance. Mowing as soon as the flowers fade will prevent the seeds from spreading elsewhere, where the plants can become a problem.

That blue carpet of a spring lawn might be the desired effect, but it’s not a valued trait as scilla will also spread into woodland and take over the understory of a forest, impeding the growth of native ephemerals by engulfing them with dense foliage. Pretty they may be, scilla are considered an invasive species in Ontario and they’re toxic to some animals, so new plantings are best avoided.

Award of Merit? Whatever was the Royal Horticultural Society thinking?

Twenty-five years already

It was late March in 2001 when I received a phone call asking if I’d like to be the weekly garden columnist for the Record. I was already writing and had been gardening since childhood, helping my dad in his garden. Then as a teenager I had my first summer job as a “gardener’s boy” at the big house in the village where I became a highly trained weed puller. You can imagine my joy when I bought my first home and was finally able to pull my very own weeds.

Of course, I said yes to the columnist offer and then must have spent two weeks writing my first submission. In that first column I told how I would be sharing my triumphs and my failures while attempting to be informative and entertaining for both the experienced and the novice gardener. I did note how gardening and laughter are two of the finest ways to promote good health and a sense of well-being, and that’s the reason for the questionable quips and pathetic puns that sometimes find their way into my column. As for the good health benefits, medical establishments are now coming around to the idea of prescribing a connection with nature as a useful therapy for both physical and mental health.

So, armed with my trust Royal Horticultural Society Encyclopedia and numerous gardening books, I offered the information to support my weekly missives. I received letters occasionally but email soon began to take over and I was able to quickly answer questions from readers. Today I receive few as the countless sources online are available at a couple of clicks, and smart phones can quickly identify plants and deliver information — although not always accurately.

Now, AI is providing answers on anything it is asked, but so far it hasn’t helped to plant a tree. Social media also has a role in providing advice, swamping us with memes, how to videos, and masses of misinformation — selling seeds for amazing plants that don’t exist.

Meanwhile, over the years, gardens have changed. Summertime back then still meant the hissing of summer lawns (thanks Joni) without a thought of water conservation. Although many grew vegetables in the back yard, front yards offered limited appeal. Sure, the old style was neat and tidy, and lawns did do a fine job of keeping the dust down, but it was hardly an incentive to stroll the neighbourhood.

That changed thanks in part to the successful Communities in Bloom program that encouraged front yard competitions. This meant more flowering plants and shrubs going in. And finding them wasn’t that difficult when we already had a small number of reliable, well-established nurseries in the area. Then the available options increased yearly as grocery stores jumped into the market, followed by big box stores. In many cases, plants have become just another prepackaged, retail item, while lacking the inviting ambience of a traditional greenhouse with knowledgeable staff.

 The range of plants has increased with ever more varieties each year, always touted as new and improved, and some are. But missing for too long was little mention of native or invasive plants, something that gardeners today are becoming more aware of when making choices about what they plant in their gardens to support the wildlife and the environment.

One of the biggest, positive changes took place in 2009 when The Province of Ontario enacted the cosmetic pesticide act. The days of tanker trucks roaming neighbourhoods spraying everything in sight to control insects or kill weeds ended. It didn’t affect me as I’d always avoided using any pesticides in my garden. Now we’re encouraging pollinating insects in our gardens and we’ve become more accepting of dandelions in lawns.

One thing that hasn’t changed is my approach to gardening. I wrote back in 2001 that I grow plants for a variety of reasons: to feed the body and to nourish the soul, for novelty and nostalgia, to challenge the elements and often my patience, but mostly it’s for the joy in seeing them flourish. That hasn’t changed. Always present, away from a rapidly changing world, is that joy that comes from tending plants in our gardens, a place of fantasy filled with a world of surprises.

I’m still in the garden, recording it weekly, and as I often tell my children, you’ll know I’ve been gardening too long when what’s being planted is me.

Triple mixed up about soil?

Enthusiasm for gardening is at its highest this month, for life-long gardeners and for those about to stick their trowels and shovels into soil for the very first time. But what soil? It used to be easy: call up someone and get a load of topsoil dumped in the driveway. Then the big yellow bags appeared offering a tidier delivery system for regular soil. Tidy yes, but getting the soil out of the bag with a shovel and into a wheelbarrow does make demands on rarely used body parts.

Most plain topsoil is what was stripped from farmland prior to the building of new homes. It might have started out as good soil, but after being stockpiled, sometimes for years, it becomes compacted. This results in the loss of much of the important microbial life. Adding compost will help restore life to the soil.

Also available in bulk is triple-mix. Recipes vary, but it’s typically a blend of soil, peat moss, and compost from leaf and yard waste, and it’s a good choice for most situations. The only drawback is it tends to settle as the organic matter decomposes and after one season it will need topping up, so maybe allow for this when ordering.

When the opportunity arrived to pick up small, easily transported bags of soil, it became so much easier to tentatively begin gardening by filling a planter or two with bags of soil brought home with the groceries. These small, colourful bags are currently stacked up at grocery or hardware stores like sandbags in anticipation of a flood.

The sight of all these bags must be confusing for the new gardener. I wouldn’t have a clue what to use in my garden or in planters if I was just starting out. Garden soil, three-way mix, black earth, potting soil, and what about the equally attractive bags of compost that buttress those bags of soil? There’s sheep compost, cattle compost, maybe horse or even chicken compost. Whenever I pass by I find myself humming Old MacDonald’s Farm.

Which one to choose? For small raised beds, the three-way mix, much the same as triple mix is fine. With the one labelled simply as garden soil I’d be inclined to add the compost of your choice. Plain garden soil is fine for a garden, but not recommended for planters if it's too clay-like — a soil-free mix can be better for that purpose.

A soil-free mix is composed mostly of peat moss and perlite, or maybe with wood fibre as an environmentally friendly alternative to peat moss. It may be labelled as potting soil. If unsure, simply check for the bag that’s soft and feels light compared to ones containing more soggy soil. The latter can be lightened by adding peat moss or coir. Major brands are now adding fertilizer or mycorrhizal fungi to the mix, though not essential.

Black earth can be a puzzle, and I don’t know why it’s called earth and not soil. It would be easy to assume that because it’s black it must be nutrient rich soil; however, that isn’t necessarily so as good soil comes in all colours, like the red soil of Prince Edward Island, for instance. Black soil (or earth) could have come from a swampy area or it could have been darkened by adding leaves. Unlike the composts that are produced and sold, there are no requirements for the analysis of plain soils unless the producer does it voluntarily.

Compost is regulated by the provincial government as well as federally through the Canadian Food Inspection Agency. Regulations are set out to ensure heavy metals and other toxic materials etc. are not present. For more information on compost, see The Compost Council of Canada website.

Do your best

It’s flying again, like an annoying bug, but not an insect. I’ve seen insects around but these bugs are online and they’re memes, those things that hurtle around social garden media, copied and posted repeatably. The current version, and there are many with the same repetitive message, tells gardeners not to clean up their garden until the temperature stays above 10 Celsius. This is to protect overwintering insects — good and bad.

Memes grab attention without conveying much information, and this one, although it's well meaning isn’t accurate. They also induce guilt in many gardeners who are itching to be out, puttering around, and given what winter here does to gardens, there’s lots to clean up.

The concept was originally introduced further to the south, in a different climate than ours, clearly as the meme typically gives the temperature in Fahrenheit — 50 degrees. That’s the only instruction, with no mention of whether it’s the high for the day, night, or both, for a few days or permanently. And there are other weather variations to consider.

Regardless, around here we might be thinking we should wait until late June before every insect is awake. Except it isn’t accurate. Depending on the species, different insects have different schedules, some awakening at different times throughout the season.  Some are out in late winter – a few are already on snow drops, crocus, and heather in my garden — and others in summer. This poses a problem for anyone who wishes to be guilt free about cleaning up; it isn’t that easy.I have a garden that is packed with plants and I have a lot of work to do in spring and not enough 

time, so I couldn't possibly wait until every single insect has kicked off the covers and dragged itself into the light of day. Many, including bees and butterflies, have spent the winter under leaf litter as eggs or cocoons, others tunnelled into soil or snug in hollow plant stems.I do my best as many do, by using the chop and drop method to protect insects that nest in stems. They are unlikely to care if the stems are vertical or horizontal (thin grassy stems aren’t favoured). Any clumps of dead stems that I need to remove, I set aside or lay loosely on the top of the compost heap.

 As for ground dwelling insects, I leave most leaf litter alone to decompose. Along with the chopped and dropped, it feeds the soil and it might look messy, but as new foliage emerges the detritus is soon hidden. This goes for flowerbeds, but veggie gardens will typically be disturbed each spring regardless unless it’s a no till garden. One thing I don't do is mulch until early June. That allows time for the soil to warm up, seedlings to emerge, and any ground dwelling insects to appear.

So, don't get caught up on advice from a recycled meme. Do consider the many forms of life in your garden and the many ways you can be a good steward for the environment.

First Weekly Column

 IN THE GARDEN with David Hobson, Waterloo Region Record, April 7 2001

Gardening and laughter are two of the finest ways to promote good health and a sense of well-being. As a writer of garden humour, I have to agree although I will admit to choking up and feeling quite sick when my beloved wisteria died. But that’s a gardener for you. Like life itself, we smile and carry on, visions of glory fuelling our consuming passion.

Gardening is certainly a passion of mine and has always been a large part of my life. I began early, helping my dad create a new garden. I didn’t get to help much, other than the weeding, which was something I learned from the bottom up, and I mean bottom up. By the time I was thirteen, when I began my first summer job as a gardener’s boy, I was a highly trained weed puller. You can imagine my joy when I bought my first home and was finally able to pull my very own weeds. Even today, I still manage to grow a few for old time’s sake, and I’m still wishing I had a nickel for each one I have pulled. I figure I could at least afford to own the Royal Botanical Gardens.

These days there really isn’t much room in my yard for weeds because I keep it crammed full of flowers and shrubs and vegetables. Fact is, I’m a self-confessed plant addict who will drag anything home if it is green or has roots (they should never have painted the hockey stick). Each spring the yard soon reaches its limit, and I’ll be the first to confess that I’ve planted new material on top of late sprouters. I have containers of plants stacked everywhere, plus I keep a few extras potted up in case I discover a bare spot somewhere in late summer. I just love growing. 

I grow plants for a variety of reasons: to feed the body and to nourish the soul, for novelty and nostalgia, to challenge the elements and often my patience, but mostly it’s for the joy in seeing them flourish. Yet, my garden is much more than plants; it is a place of fantasy and a world of surprises. It would be lacking if it were without the wildlife and weather that so often frustrates as I strive for perfection. Even Darth, the neighbourhood cat, has a place in my yard, except when he visits the front flowerbed with his favourite magazine. More than anything, my garden provides me with an unlimited opportunity to be creative. Seeing a new climber bloom for the first time over a newly constructed trellis gives me a double sense of satisfaction.

I’ve been working on my current garden for the past fifteen years. It’s my third, and I suspect it may not be my last. I doubt it will ever be complete, and neither should it be. I don’t believe a garden is ever finished until the gardener is. As I often tell my children, you’ll know I’ve been gardening too long when what is being planted is me.
In the weeks ahead, I will be sharing my triumphs and my failures (my Brugmansia is amazing, but my Himalayan blue poppies are a flop) as I attempt to evoke the spirit of gardening. I hope to be informative and entertaining for both the experienced and the novice gardener, providing local answers to local problems. If you need the solution to a particular problem, and think I can help, write or email and I will share it here.

Meanwhile, if anyone is looking for me, I’ll be in the garden.