"Subtleties of the Winter Landscape"

by Carolyn Singer, Foothill Cottage Gardens
Sierra Heritage, Nov./Dec. 1994

A gusty, late fall wind has blown the last of the leaves from my purple-leaf plum, revealing an intricate pattern of delicate branches and a strong, slightly twisting dark trunk, now ten years old. Every year this tree grows more spectacular, and the winter, when its structure is most apparent, is one of my favorite seasons to enjoy this tree's special beauty.

In winter a coral-bark maple (Acer palmatum 'Sango Kaku') transforms its bark and branches to an intense coral color, a warm contrast to the evergreen Sierra redwood in the background.

Winter is a time of rest in the garden. Beds covered with compost in the fall will be protected from driving winter rains. I must remember to finish my projects in the vegetable garden, where the lettuce and kale sown in September have been giving us salad greens. Just as soon as the crop is gone, I will "sheet compost" the bed, since it is too late to sow a cover crop of rye or vetch at this higher altitude. Beginning with a light dusting of oyster shell and a little bit heavier application of soft rock phosphate, I then cover the area with a layer of leaves (if I use oak leaves I shred them first) and a layer of turkey manure. Straw covers the last layer; the bed is left until spring. By then, earthworms will already be mixing the materials as they feed eagerly on my offerings.

As I walk through the garden, I check everything that was planted this fall for root exposure. Irrigation, rains, winds, and even the natural settling of soil can leave surface roots exposed. A plant with exposed roots will certainly be damaged by the extremes of our Sierra climate, including the sudden warm days we so often experience. Leaves, straw, compost, or wood chips can be used to cover the surface soil around plants. Compost is my favorite year-round mulch, adding nutrients to the soil, increasing water-retention, and protecting the surface. Mulches can be deep around plants, as much as six inches. If compost is in short supply, add a shallow layer of compost first for its fertilizer value, then top with a layer of straw or chips. I always have a bale or two of straw on hand because I prefer to use it after it has begun to decompose, when its color changes from gold to gray-brown.

Winter is the perfect time to move established plants (just as you might rearrange the furniture in your living room!). I once attended a symposium of landscapers at the New York Botanical Gardens, where a speaker noted that "landscaping is the art of moving plants." A ripple of laughter throughout the large lecture hall made me realize that I was not the only gardener who had moved a plant from one location to a better one. By planning ahead, trees and shrubs should not need to be moved, but perennials are easily lifted during the winter months. Remember that daylily that did not bloom as well the past two years because of a nearby tree that had grown and now cast shade over a larger area? Now is the time to move it, and you might even divide it after you lift it. Use a good garden fork, not a shovel, for lifting plants out of the soil. The tines of the fork will not injure roots.

If you divide a perennial, gently pull apart portions of the root ball, allowing each section to have its own root system. If a plant is strongly rooted, a knife or sharp shovel edge may be used to slash through the root ball to loosen the divisions. The larger the root for each division, the more quickly it will establish. Divisions will need to be watered just as any recently-planted container plant until rains keep the soil moist.

I love a winter day when a few garden chores are accomplished in the afternoon, and later that evening I can hear the sound of raindrops on my roof. Even a snow following the recent transplanting will not injure the plants I have just lovingly planted.

Satisfied that most garden tasks have been completed, I can turn my attention to enjoying the winter landscape. In the herb garden, the beautiful silver foliage of English lavender is a striking accent rivaled only by the nearby upright rosemary, with its strong rich green stalks looming to three feet. Creeping thymes are as beautiful a carpet out of bloom as they are when covered with pink flowers midsummer.

In the rock garden, billowing clouds of feather grass (Stipa tenuissima) are a golden accent, blowing with the lightest breeze. Deer prints are everywhere, yet nothing is eaten. Even in winter, there is no offering here that will tempt them. Tiny-leafed Dianthus species, salvias, creeping wallflowers (Erysimum species) and yarrows (Achillea) are just a few of the plants left alone by both the rabbits and deer. Evergreen or evergray perennials dominate the winter landscape, and as I linger on the bench overlooking the rock garden in the late afternoon sun of a mild winter day, I am amazed to think that in a few weeks, bulbs will begin to show even before winter ends.

And that reminds me! I have some bulbs in the refrigerator, where I put them in late September. November and December are more leisurely months to plant bulbs, and as long as they are kept cold in moistened vermiculite after you purchase the bulbs, it is all right to plant them now. Early blooming bulbs (Galanthus, Muscari, and dwarf iris) are planted as soon as I can in the fall, but the later blooming tulips (Tulipa, Alliums, and Scillas) can go in now. All are planted with a generous handful of soft rock phosphate, which is higher in phosphorus than bone meal, mixed into the soil beneath the bulb.

A walk through the winter garden is special. The coral-bark maple (Acer palmatum 'Sango Kaku') lives up to its name, as the bark of the trunk and branches in winter change to an intense coral, a striking contrast to the graygreen of the Sierra redwood (Sequoiadendron gigantea) nearby.

Spiraea thunbergii, a spiraea closely related to bridalwreath, is just now turning red and copper, and will hold this color until the leaves fall in mid-December. Growing to six feet in height and spread, it is always an attractive ornamental shrub, and now is one of my favorite times to appreciate its value as a landscape plant.

Seed heads, gray twigs, golden grasses, dark trunks moistened by early winter rains, berries, and even the twisted shape of an old vine, bring life to the winter garden. And, on those days when I am forced inside by a winter storm, the bare purple-leaf plum outside my living room window comes to life, as dozens of juncos, sparrows, chickadees, and finches fill the delicate branches, waiting to get to the four feeders I have hung there. It won't be long before they are busy building nests, and I am out gardening once again in early spring.