An open letter to Carol, President for Life, SPPOTGWLS

To: Most esteemed, venerable, and herbaceous Carol
President of the Society for the Preservation and Propagation of Old-Time Gardening Wisdom, Lore & Superstition
(hereafter referred to as "The Society")

From: The blogger also known as bloomingwriter

Subject: Gardeners' Christmas Ornaments

Dear Carol:

As you know, the festive season of the Gardeners is upon us, and gardeners everywhere are festooning their homes with decorations of the season. I have long lamented that I didn't have any garden-themed Christmas ornaments, so I felt that I could not join the Society's annual Christmas revelry.

I realized today that I was mistaken in this regard, and herewith present my proof of botanical and horticultural ornaments, in the hopes that I too will be welcome to join in the fun of the Society's meetings. (click for larger photos). From miniature greenhouses to iridescent glass grapes, garden forks to acorns, I actually have quite a variety.

Today on my poinsettia-purchasing adventure, I came upon two delightful ornaments that spoke to me, so that I had to bring them home. They are in the above photo: The festive-coloured Hot Pepper, and the not-very-juicy looking pear.

In keeping with my fondness for both pollinators and evergreens, many of my ornaments are either dragonflies or evergreen cones, and quite a few of them are handmade, such as the lacy doily festooned with baby's breath and the beaded poinsettia in the above photo.


I would beg the President's pardon and favour with this last set, because it includes two lobsters, which are not usually found in the garden. However, I include them as a tribute to my esteemed LongSuffering Spouse (LSS), who is a retired lobster fisherman; and also note that lobster shells are a useful and effective addition to the garden as fertilizer.

This photo set also includes two very special pewter ornaments; the Magnolia in the right-hand side is from Annapolis Royal Historic Gardens, and was given to me during the Magnolia Festival last spring. The pewter wreath in the middle, Madame President-For-Eternity, is composed of trailing arbutus flowers, (Epigaea repens), better known as Mayflowers, which are the provincial flower of Nova Scotia, and created in a 'wreath of hope' by Amos Pewterers of Mahone Bay, NS.

I have other ornaments of a garden-theme motif, including a number of birds (not including my penguins, which are my favourites), but having just learned the art of making a collage with Picasa thanks to my dear friend and fellow blogger Joey of The Village Voice, I thought I'd quit while I'm ahead and wait to hear the Society's deliberations on my application for membership.

Thanking you for your considerations and looking forward to a happy reply, I remain yours most coniferously,

jodi (bloomingwriter)

Meet Minerva...

Yesterday was one of those days where the mercury dropped from well above freezing to considerably below in a matter of hours, and the wind that had gone on brief hiatus came back with a vengeance. Naturally, it brought along some of those 'flurries where winds blow onshore...' which as we know have been known to create a LOT of inches of accumulation.

Didn't matter to me. The first of the amaryllis had decided it was time.

"Is that Sydney?" My longsuffering spouse asked me.

"Mmm...nope. That's Minerva." I replied, scrutinizing the box tops that I had saved in my office after forgetting to match containers to bulb names when I planted these all.

As you can see, that curious vase I bought nearly five years ago is doing its job, holding Minerva's two stems of blooms and buds upright quite nicely. I've grown this one a number of times and never tire of her festive colours. Part of the reason I grow her is that I have an aunt by the same name, who sadly is lost in the fog of Alzheimer's disease, just like her brother--my father--was. So when I look at this magnificent, exquisite flower, I think of my vigourous, capable aunt as she was in happier days.

Since I've yet to bring home any poinsettias and two of my Christmas cacti are actually planning to bloom AT Christmas, judging on their bud sizes, I thought we should move Minerva into the living room for several reasons. One, it's much cooler in there, away from the heat of the woodstove in the kitchen, so her lovely flowers will last longer. Two, she adds a definite presence to the living room's Christmas decor, which is still a work in progress. And three, I moved the slowest-growing bulb into the kitchen to give it a boost.

There are still two more bulbs upstairs in the reading room that need to come downstairs, as one is probably going to blossom next week. We won't know who is who (other than Minerva) until they have all put in a floral appearance, of course. But it's fun to watch them slowly, glamourously reveal their beauty. I think next to orchids, amaryllis are some of the best show-stopping flowers there are. Don't you agree?

Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day--in the bleak late autumn!

It's been months--well over a year, actually--since I participated in one of Carol's Garden Bloggers' Bloom Days, and I thought in keeping with rejuvenating myself and my blog, I'd join back in the fun, because it IS all about having fun with plants. Especially in December, where we've gone from sub-arctic temperatures to rain, fog and drizzle. Too soggy for me to venture outside but I know from being out yesterday, putting up lights, that there's nuthin' bloomin' outside, so we need to adjourn to seeking out indoor blooms.


To keep me from becoming an irritable writer and spouse, I keep fresh flowers around the house as much as possible during the dreary months of late autumn and fall. I realized yet again today, though, that one of my favourite cheer-me-up colour ranges of the spectrum, however, doesn't necessarily photograph as well as I'd like with a digital camera. The hot pinks, magentas and fuchsias of the floral spectrum tend to blow out quite a bit unless you use a filter, and I don't have one to fit the particular lens on my camera at the moment.


I have done one round of experimenting with David Perry's Mason Jar Master Class, but my wide-mouthed mason jars have a textured pattern in the glass, and aren't as tall as I'd like. That being said, I did like the light play on the paperwhite flowers that I dropped into the jar the other day for a trial run.

Before frost hit, I remembered to rescue a couple of my outdoor pelargoniums and bring them inside. This salmon-coloured one is happily adjusting to life in a not-so-sunny-but-warm kitchen, and putting up lots of new blooms.

This is one of those 'colour not done justice' photos. This fantastic pelargonium has flowers that are bicolour, red and hot fuchsia, but it's hard to see that no matter how often I experiment with photographing it.


That's okay about the colour blur, though, because the flower shape is just so striking on this one, I wouldn't really care what colour the blossoms are.


My cyclamen are still doing very nicely in the coolness of the office, although I feel the need to add a couple more colours to the collection. When I venture out tomorrow for appointments and errands, who knows what will follow me home?


The last phalaenopsis flower is still hanging on tenaciously, and I think this particular orchid is considering putting up one more shoot of buds. The other two are resting, spent after a long flowering fiesta.


My friend Neville MacKay gave me a bouquet containing these dendrobium orchids more than 6 weeks ago, and there are still three stems producing flowers. Another week or so and they'll be done, but what joy they've given me!

Meanwhile, that first Amaryllis is being coy about opening her flowers, but I find once they start to show colour, they unfurl fairly quickly. Going to watch closely for the next day or so and see what happens.

One of my favourite cut flowers are the curious Bells of Ireland, Moluccella laevis. These have been hanging out with a bundle of fuchsia dianthus for well over a week, and show no signs of really faltering. I love their somewhat-alien appearance, and find they have a faint but fresh, minty scent. The green bracts tend to dry to a tan colour, and the flowers themselves are pretty insignificant at the centre of those 'bells.'

I'm in the process of decorating our Christmas tree, but it's no wheres near finished. And I have a confession that's somewhat scandalous. I don't have a lot of Christmas ornaments that are plant-themed. I tend to collect penguins rather than plants in ornaments, but I do have half a dozen of these wonderful handmade ribbon pinecones scattered around the tree.

And for giggles, a sparkly branch of pomegranates and berries festoons a pot already occupied by two whimsical pottery mushrooms and a somewhat-chewed blue plumbago plant. Hmmm. Who might have chewed on that plant?


Surely not Spunky, here looking annoyed because I woke him up to take his photo! Well, yes, actually he is the chief plant-nibbler. Happily, he never dines on anything toxic, and he tends to look both innocent and annoyed when caught in the act. He's very tired right now, a morning's naughtiness having worn him out. So I think I'll take the hint and join him in a nap.

This concludes our Bloom day tour! Don't forget to visit around the blogosphere and see what's blooming in other gardens or homes, and thanks as always to Carol for having continued this fun monthly event for us to enjoy.

More musings on books: Planting and planning

How is a plant obsession born? Do we wake up one day and decide arbitrarily that we're hooked on hostas, or delirious about daylilies, or excited about echinaceas? I don't know the answer to that except from a personal perspective. I like plants that do well in my climate, are easy to care for, strikingly beautiful in flowers or foliage or winter interest, are unusual, or native, or new...okay, I admit it, I'm a plant collector. And I'm all right with that.

I do find that the longer I garden, the more I develop an appreciation for various genera and species of plants. Take viburnums, for example. There's been a highbush cranberry (V. trilobum) in our garden since before we came here. It's a handsome, energetic shrub, with lovely lacy flowers followed by luscious-looking red fruit beloved by birds. I've long been acquainted with witherod, or wild raisin (V. cassinoides), also native to our area, and planted several here in our garden. Then I got to know the fragrant viburnums and something clicked in my brain. I wanted more of them, and wanted to know more about them. So I was very glad that Michael Dirr, horticulturist par excellence, shared my passion and kindly wrote a book about these lovely, versatile shrubs. For those who have the woody bible, Dirr's Manual of Woody Plants, his Viburnums book (Timber Press) is much more conversational and far less of a reference textbook. I think viburnums are like potato chips and you can't have just one. Or two. (I'm up to six different species, I think, and counting).


Let it never be thought that I'm a plant expert. Plant addict, yes, but I soak up information about plants like a sponge, and there is always a stack of books beside my desk, for me to consult with when I'm writing about plants and gardening. One of the volumes that hasn't strayed back to the bookcase since I got it is Tomasz Anisko's When Perennials Bloom. (Timber Press) Subtitled An Almanac for Planning and Planting, it's a hugely valuable reference for gardeners of all skill levels. Want to know when Astrantia (masterwort) will flower? How to plant it? The book profiles well over 400 perennial species, giving their bloom periods based on calculations and averages made around the world. So this is a useful book whether you live on the windswept Fundy, on the exuberant prairies of the midwest, or in Europe and beyond.


We are blessed with an abundance of space on our property--seven acres, much of it pasture, but a good chunk of it planted out by me with help from my longsuffering spouse. So we have room for big plants, and we grow a number of them. If you like plants with oomph-impact, then you'll love Tall Perennials, by Roger Turner (Timber Press). You don't HAVE to have an expansive acreage to carry off a few impressive-sized plants, either; Turner gives useful tips on how to garden effectively with tall- or wide-growing perennials, as well as a substantial list of recommended plants (noting caveats where necessary).


Turner gets the distinction of having a second book in this list, also published by Timber Press, a slightly older volume (2005) called Design in the Plant Collector's Garden. It's subtitled 'From Chaos to Beauty', and it's helping me to create a little more beauty and a little less chaos in my ongoing experimentation with plants. I just got my hands on this book a little earlier in the fall, so I haven't yet put what I'm learning into practice. Ask me next summer how I'm doing mixing the trialing of plants with creating a nice-looking garden rather than a hodgepodge. It's a work in progress, always.


Finally, here's my must-have recommendation for this year, for those who are into growing perennials: Our own Nancy Ondra's Perennial Care Manual (Storey). Actually, I recommend any book by Nan that you can get your hands on, because she is THE quintessence of a good garden writer: informative yet encouraging. (I have her Fallscaping and Perennial Gardener's Design Primer and love them both). This latest offering tells you everything you need to know about creating a good perennial garden and Nan profiles dozens of perennials, providing information on how to grow the plants, what problems exist (and how to cope with them)...or as the subtitle says, 'What to do and when to do it." I know other bloggers have recommended this book as well, and I'd just like to add my voice to that chorus of positive reviews. If you're a perennial plant lover, you will need to have this book in your library.

And probably you'll need more bookshelves too. I remind my spouse that my three bad habits are plants, cats and books, and that he should be thankful. I think he is, except for when one of the cats knocks over a plant and then sends books cascading onto the floor too.

The Gardener's Bookshelf, Part the First: Books for Plant Lovers

We are currently in the middle of a frigid gale, one that's impressive even for those of us who are regularly scoured by gale-force winds. The house has stood here for over 100 years and withstood worse, but it does moan, grumble and shudder by times when a particularly virulent blast comes in off the Bay.

This makes it more than a little hard to concentrate, to sleep, to work...so I'm quasi-working by attempting to reorganize my bookshelves, and then getting distracted by titles and falling into them. I have a lot of books, both from my days at university (where I majored in Can Lit and minored in Can History and biology) and from my life as a bibliophile in general and plant/gardening nut in particular.

Since we're heading towards Christmas at a speed even faster than those galeforce winds, I thought I'd post some of my favourite books, both new and old. I do book reviews for the provincial newspaper, including garden books whenever possible, but there are a lot of books that don't get the attention they deserve. Perhaps they're a couple of years old, or more. Perhaps they're caught up in the deluge of books that are published every year, and get lost in the shuffle. Or maybe they're just so good that I think everyone should have them.

So while the house shakes, Bruce Springsteen croons on my speakers, and I amuse myself by checking in with Twitter every little while (yes, I capitulated, finally. You may now laugh), I offer you the first of several lists of books I think every plantlover should have. We're starting off with books about plants: not so much about how to garden, but merely about the awesomeness of plants AS plants.

My friend Kylee also wrote about Planthropology at her book-blog, Gardening By the Book, and she also loves it. I keep it at my bedside so I can peruse a section or two and ogle the photographs and just be glad of authors like Ken Druse, who writes deliciously about the plants of his life. Last year in my garden roundup column for the paper, I wrote "If you add only one gardening book to your library this year, Planthropology should be that book."

What's the must-have book for this year, in my opinion? Come back to the next post to find out.

I simply HAD to have the two volumes of The Botanical Garden when they came out a few years ago. (Actually, I just checked. It was seven years ago. Gleep!) They are two of my most cherished books, and if you have any books by Phillips and Rix, you know why. They developed an innovative and stunning way of photographing plants, showing individual structures and not just the whole plant.

What I especially like about books like the two Botanical Garden volumes is that they introduce me to plants from around the world that I would otherwise never see, unless in passing mention on someone's blog or in a book. The plants are divided up into families, so it's very cool to see what all is in the Ericaceae (heath) family, or the Caryophyllaceae (pink) family along with the standards that I know.

Though this may seem sacrilege to many Canadian readers, I'm not a big fan of Marjorie Harris. I do, however, love this book, which is a wonderful course in the native plants of North America. There are wonderful stories of the plants' places in history, in their uses past and present, far beyond just as mere garden ornamentals.
I get sent a lot of books in the run of a year by publishers, some that I've requested, others that just arrive here in hopes I'll review them. This one, Flora Miriabilis, I ordered myself after seeing it on a few lists and seeing Kylee's review of it. I use the Missouri Botanical Garden's website as a source of great information on a regular basis (and hope to get to MoBot some day--I did go to Powell Gardens last year when I was in Kansas City, but MoBot is in St. Louis). So knowing that people from MoBot were involved in this book, and that National Geographic published it...I ordered it promptly. It just arrived today, and by the time you read this post, I'll be in bed, heating pad on my feet, reading away at it. But just a half-hour browse through the book showed it was well worth purchasing. My library is happier for its arrival. So am I.

Amorous about Amaryllis

A few faithful readers, including Tabby at Crooked Heart, and several people without blogs, asked some questions about bulbs, in particular amaryllis, and I thought I'd quickly put together a post to help those who have either never been seduced by these glorious plants, or else have had trouble with rebloom.

First question I'll answer came from Joy, who doesn't do bulbs inside because she worries about her cats getting into them. Amaryllis ARE toxic, but I swear that our cats know that; in all the years I've grown amaryllis, and in all the cats we've had, I've never had problems with anyone ingesting a toxic plant. I think cats are smarter than dogs when it comes to avoiding things that will make them sick. The Cat Fanciers Association has an extensive list of plants toxic to cats, but it doesn't specify what parts are toxic: amaryllis bulbs are especially toxic, but I've never had a cat try to do anything with the plants except dig at the dirt. Bad kitties.


Amaryllis are deliciously easy to grow because the bulbs don't need prechilling: you buy them, plant them in a properly sized container (about an inch wider in diameter than the bulb) with about 1/3 the bulb sticking out of the soil. Water well, and then wait: times from planting to bloom vary, and I don't know if that's cultivar-related, or depending on the treatment they've received before we buy them. I planted four bulbs of different varieties all on the same day (5 November): two have put up stems and buds more than a foot tall, one is getting started, and one's still thinking about it. Dee mentioned hers were sulking--I remember one I bought one year that I planted in early November and it just sat and sulked until February, when it erupted into a splendid plant, putting up two stems of amazing flowers. So I hope Dee's are worth the wait too.


Our kitchen is quite warm with the woodstove, so I often put a bulb or two out there to inspire them to grow well. The secret is to keep them well watered--moist, but not soggy.

I find once they get their stalks well up and the buds expanded, it's very quick for the flowers to open. Although I can't find the labeled photos from this 'Sydney' from two years ago, I remember taking photos of the flower buds every hour or so until the first flower was well opened.

So once they've finished flowering, what then? Cut off the flowerstalk once the flowers are all withered, leaving just a short stub at the bulb end, and let the leaves grow large and vigourous. They're making food for the bulb, so that it can create flowers next year. Once mild weather comes and the risk of frost is past, you can put them outdoors for the summer. Some people bury plant pot and all, but I sit mine on the back deck. You have to remember to water and feed them regularly through the summer months, too.

Next September, before you have a frost, cut off the tired, yellowed leaves and store bulb, pot and all in a cool, dark location. Our cellar is perfect for this, we've found. Do NOT water or feed the bulbs during this period. Don't let them freeze, don't store in a fridge or other location near fresh fruit: as with tulips and other bulbs, embryonic flowers will be killed off by the gases emitted by ripening fruit. I wonder how many people forget that, and rest their bulbs in a root cellar beside a bag of apples?

After 6-8 weeks, bring the bulb up, repot in fresh potting medium, water and fertilize, and wait. You should start to see regrowth in about 6 weeks or so--remember, these are plants, and they don't read instructions; some will start growing more quickly, like those that are almost in bloom here, while others meditate for a while longer, like the one recalcitrant bulb I have.

Finally, Shady Gardener asked what that strange photo was of at the beginning of my previous post. It's a Christmas ornament made of beads and pins that I purchased at a craft fair a few years ago. I absolutely love it, and actually keep it hanging in my office yearround, for an instant rainbow. I'm trying to do the Macro Master Class that David Perry, awesome photographer, inspired many of us to try; my only problem being that my Mason jars aren't quite big enough so that I was a bit too close. But it worked for me anyway, and looked like beaded fireworks.

Group Hugs and Amaryllis Pots

What can I say about the past couple of days? You are all awesome, that's what.
Reading back the comments on my previous post, I feel like I've been given a huge group hug from around the blogosphere. It's really, really wonderful to receive such tender, thoughtful and heartfelt feedback from you guys. Between your comments, the renovating of Bloomingwriter, and reading my way around the garden of blogs I normally visit, I feel reinspired, refreshed and ready to go forward into year 5 of this wonderful world of blogging.

Obviously many other bloggers sometimes face the question of why we do this, and whether it's of any use to any others. I'm all about encouraging other people, whether in gardening, in writing, or in reaching for their dreams. That's why I started Bloomingwriter, as a way to give back to the gardening community, because I always, always learn something new whenever I visit or talk with another gardener, whether in person or by email. And that's a huge gift, so this is my little give-back.

I think I'll post shorter entries more often, and see how that works, with fewer photos per post. Well, that's my thought today, anyway.


Mr. MacGregor's Daughter asked in a previous post how I got the amaryllis bulb into this narrow necked planter. The container opens from the bottom, you put the bulb in, add the soil, put the lid back in, and set it on its saucer. Water and wait. The container is made of pottery/ceramic, and is quite heavy so it helps stabilize the bulbs. (I lugged this one and a smaller one, for hyacinth, on the flight home from Canada Blooms nearly five years ago. That was entertaining.)


There's only one drawback-I don't know if the company (based in Ontario) is still in business or not. Its website is still up but doesn't seem to have been updated in a long time, so I'm reluctant to mention its name. I think they had a great idea, although the vases were pricy, even with a discount for promotional purposes, but I've never seen them in garden shops around here, nor heard any more about them.

I expect this amaryllis to flower in the next week or so, and will post photos when it does.

Thank you again, dear friends, for your support and friendship across the miles. I <3 y'all.

"So long, it's been good to know ya..."

I posted a passage of a song called 'A Children's Winter' on my facebook yesterday, to celebrate that first snow. The song was written by the late and much loved Dermot O'Reilly, and performed by him in the band Ryan's Fancy about 30 years ago.

I got reminiscing about this Irish-Canadian group's music and how much we enjoyed it. Another song by Ryan's Fancy got stuck in my head: "So Long, it's been good to know ya." That seemed appropriate given some of the things I've been contemplating, regarding Bloomingwriter.

January will mark 4 years of doing this blog, and I have enjoyed it immensely, mostly for the privilege of getting to 'know' other garden bloggers around the world. About two years ago, I got hugely brave, and following the instructions created by my friend Kylee at Our Little Acre, I revamped the blog into the way it's looked until today. I've been trying to decide whether to move to Wordpress, whether to change the look of the blog, whether to stop blogging completely. After all, there are gazillions of gardening blogs out there, many of them totally awesome, and what's one more? I've stepped away from doing memes, from participating in awards, and don't have the time to respond to every comment, which makes me feel guilty.

But I decided the best thing to do for now was to spiff Bloomingwriter up for Christmas. We just redid our bedroom with a fresh look, and I used lavender (the plant and its colour) as the motif and one of the colours in there. I like it so much--lavender being one of my favourite plants, after all--that I decided to use a similar theme on my blog. So here it is.

Still haven't decided about Wordpress, or whether to continue blogging when I have so much else going on, but we'll see what the winter brings. Meanwhile, to my old decor, it's "so long, it's been good to know ya..." It served me well, but onward & upward. I hope you like the new look as much as I do.

Winter leaves her calling card

I've been cracking jokes in The Canning Gazette and elsewhere about how I put studded snow tires on my car a month ago, and as a result nature has felt no need to bring snow to our area. That all changed overnight, with the first of what will probably be many snowfalls for the winter of 2009-2010. It rained for hours before it grew cold enough to snow, so the precipitation stuck to everything with an undercoating of ice.

There's a little too much snow to show off the seedheads and structures of a lot of the plants in the garden, but you can see the graceful sweep of this Actaea 'Pink Spike' seedhead.

Some people prune out their Harry Lauder's Walking Stick (Corylus avellana 'Contorta') so that there aren't as many branches and the twisted structure can be better seen. But I like mine as it is, all wavy branches covered in wavy snowsweaters. In front of it, the Hinoki chamaecyparis is a little too cloaked to show its structure, but it's still pretty.

It's still too early in the season for the birds to have devoured all the fruit from the Viburnum trilobum, and the juice from the berries made garish snowcones.

Our red osier dogwood's branches (Cornus sericea) are just starting to glow with winter colour

I never know quite how I should feel about the multiflora roses that are scattered around the county (and beyond). On the one hand, they're invasive little suckers, and I wonder what they might be displacing. On the other hand, their tiny rosehips are beautiful in arrangements, birds feast on them, and the plants are gorgeous when they're in bloom and graceful when they're bare. I know they're listed as noxious/invasive elsewhere but so far aren't here. Someone referred to this plant as the 'Acadian rose', wondering if the Acadian settlers had brought it here, but I've found nothing to prove that. Anyone have anything to offer on that subject?

I guess of all the annuals in my garden containers from this past summer, this alyssum gets the award for being the most persistent. I think when the snow melts, however, she'll have finally thrown in the towel. I hope it seeds; it's been a delightful, carefree plant.

The wind didn't want to let up, so I came back indoors to let the warmth of the kitchen stove and the fragrance of paperwhites perk me up.

One of the amaryllis is promising a show in the not too distant future. In fact, quite a show. I have to move this one to my office from the kitchen to slow it down a little in its zeal to flower. Not sure which one this is til it flowers, as I kept the labels but forgot to mark down which bulb was in which pot. I'm sure none of you have ever done such a thing...

One of the Christmas cacti decided it really, really can't wait for Christmas, so it became the November cactus instead. It's just wrapping up most of its bloom, but there are a couple of others on tap to perform as we race towards the season of light, love, and joy.

Oh, and my snow tires work just great. So bring it, winter. The sooner you get going, the sooner you'll be done. Or so I tell myself.