March/April Where I’m At

This is a running tally of where you can find me in the upcoming months:

Tovah Martin on the Newsstand:

  • Country Gardens ~ Spring 2011 ~ Cottage Done Right ~ an article about my garden by Anne Raver!!!
  • Country Gardens ~ Spring 2011 ~ Fall in Love with Lilacs
  • Country Gardens ~ Spring 2011 ~ Make Way for Wildflowers
  • Country Gardens ~ Spring 2011 ~ Rethinking the Humble Garden Shed
  • Country Gardens ~ Spring 2011 ~ Smoky Mountain Picnic
  • Early Homes ~ Spring/Summer 2011 ~ New Site, New Garden
  • LCT ~ March, 2011 ~ Seeds for Dreamers in Spring
  • Dig It!www.dig-itmag.com terrarium interview
  • Design New England ~ March/April, 2011 ~ Visit: Campo de Fiori

    Tovah Martin upcoming lectures and workshops (see www.tovahmartin.com for more details:

    • March 5, 2011 ~ 11:00 AM: CT Daylily Society ~ Avon, CT. Terrarium workshop.
    • March 12, 2011 ~ 11:00 AM: Northeast Floral Expo ~ Sturbridge, MA. Terrarium workshop. www.northeastfloralexpo.com
    • March 19, 2011 ~ 1:30 PM: Boston Flower & Garden Show ~ Boston, MA. Lecture ~ The New Terrarium www.thebostonflowershow.com
    • March 22, 2011 ~ 7:00 PM: Middlebury Garden Club ~ Middlebury, CT. Terrarium workshop.
    • March 27, 2011 ~ 3:00 PM: Lori Warner Studio ~ Chester, CT. Terrarium workshop. www.loriwarner.com
    • April 5, 2011 ~ 10:00 AM: Greens Farms Garden Club ~ Southport, CT ~ Lecture: Terrariums and You.
    • April 8, 2011 ~ Terrarium workshop & Lecture: Des Moines Botanical Center ~ Des Moines, IA
    • April 9, 2011 ~ Lecture: Knoxville Garden Club Anniversary Gala ~ Knoxville, IA
    • April 13, 2011 ~ 7:00 PM: Fairfield Library Seed Bank ~ Fairfield, CT ~ Lecture: Garden Stewardship
    • April 28, 2011 ~ 12:00 noon: Massachusetts Master Gardeners ~ Houseplant class

    Tovah in other media:<

    On the Road/In the Future:

    • September 10, 2011 ~ Lecture: Master Gardeners ~ Rochester, NY
    • September 26, 2011 ~ Lecture: Basin Harbor Club ~ Vergennes, VT
    • October 2, 2011 ~ Terrarium workshop: Linden Hill ~ Ottsville, PA
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Paperwhites

Can we talk about paperwhites for just a minute? I know what you’re thinking: Any flower in the dead of winter is a good thing, right? Well, not necessarily. When you have to abandon a room for the sake of some big gobs of white flowers that are ridiculously easy to grow, then something is wrong with that picture.

I try not to be a scent snob. I can take hyacinths without hardly wincing. You won’t find me knuckling under even when a gardenia enters the room. But I have my limits. And paperwhites cross the line.

They’re a cinch to grow. I’ll give them that. They require no chilling period whatsoever. But then again, they shouldn’t be frozen and are more cold sensitive than other narcissus. As soon as you receive the bulbs, plant them. Or do it in waves if you want to endure an unpleasant scent over a prolonged period of time. Personally, I’m not a major fan of bleached white pebbles. But if you lean in that direction, here’s your chance to anchor bulbs in that medium, because that’s all they need.

Instead, I use potting soil. And, because paperwhites tend to become leggy and staking seems contrived to my tender sensibilities, I plant them in the bottom of a tall glass cylinder and let the sides do the propping (keep the glass container pulled away from the light when the paperwhites sprout or the tips will burn). This year, I also enlisted a chicken wire pyramid to shore up a batch of paperwhites. And yes, I’m forever in search of a paperwhite without the skunk association. I try, try again. Hope blooms eternal. Experience the difference today with our exceptional deals on modafinil. Feel energized, sharp, and ready to conquer your goals without emptying your wallet.

So, here’s the result of this year’s paperwhite trials. I avoided ‘Ziva’. Are you familiar with the smell of cat musk, by any chance? It could aptly be applied to ‘Ziva’. Have you encountered eau de moth balls in your travels? Well, it’s a close analogy. Think tart with a latrine undertone. Need I say more?

Instead, I tried ‘Inbal’ which wasn’t half bad until all five hundred flowers came onto the stage simultaneously. Then it got a little brash. Even better was ‘Ariel’ with a scent that was not only livable but likable until it started to get old. All of the above paperwhites stem from Narcissus papyraceus. But the real winner was ‘Grand Soleil d’Or’ with Narcissus tazetta parentage, also considered to be in the paperwhite clan. ‘Grand Soleil d’Or’ is a flower of a different hue. And fume. Not only does it sport bright yellow petals with a gold tube, but its scent is positively delightful. Like a breath of fresh air in January. Searching for an affordable option to support your fertility treatment? Look no further! We understand the importance of accessible healthcare, which is why we offer clomid at a price that won’t break the bank.

Moral of the story = Your paperwhites and your nose can live happily ever after. Anyone else want to weigh in on this fractured fairytale? Go ahead, come to the defense of your favorite paperwhite. I’m open to suggestions. Fire away. Your well-being shouldn’t come with a burden. It’s time to prioritize affordability and accessibility when it comes to your medication needs. Explore our budget-friendly prednisone options today!

Oh and everyone = a new garden blog was just born. You’ve got to check out Notes from Juniper Hill at www.juniperhillfarmnh.com , it wins the beauty/content contest by a yard (and garden).

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Kohlrabi ‘Kolibri’

You know that life is on the brink when visions of kohlrabi start invading your daydreams. Yep, desperation has hit that point here. But can you blame me? If there’s anything worse than winter, it’s mud season. I realize that there’s got to be a juncture between several feet of snow and the growing season. But does it have to be this ugly?

So my denial strategy is to immerse myself in kohlrabi fantasies. It works for me. The rest of the world might drool in lust for tomatoes, but members of the cabbage family ring my chimes. Hey, somebody’s got to love them. Guess that role falls to me.

First I’ve got a full disclosure to make here — ‘Kolibri’ is a hybrid. But I’m balancing that demerit against the fact that I crave a constant supply of brassicas (aka cabbage kin) throughout the summer. Growing any kohlrabi sates my hunger for cole crops early in the season. Growing ‘Kolibri’ satisfies that craving throughout the better part of the summer.

Yes, that’s right. This is the true confession of someone who boycotted kohlrabi simply because it came and split (literally) too rapidly. Up until ‘Kolibri’ entered my life, my interaction with kohlrabi was nothing more than a late spring fling. As soon as the weather shifted into steamy, it was history. I moved on to broccoli, and the kohlrabi split asunder. Any orbs that remained intact turned tough, bitter, and virtually indigestible. Not so for ‘Kolibri’. It goes for the long haul.

Just in case you aren’t familiar with kohlrabi, let me give you the crash course. This is one vegetable you’re not likely to encounter in your local supermarket unless your store employs an astute green grocer (remember green grocers?). Unlike most members of the cabbage clan, kohlrabi doesn’t focus on flower buds or foliage. Instead, the delectable part is the stem that swells into a round, baseball-sized knot just above soil level. Okay, it sort of looks like a turnip above ground. The goal is to get a type that doesn’t taste like a turnip.

That’s where ‘Kolibri’ comes in. It has firm (but not woody) creamy flesh with a slightly sweet taste. I use mine as a steamed vegetable, but you could also dice it like celeriac in a fresh salad.

As long as we’re spilling beans, I might as well admit that I originally ordered seed of ‘Kolibri’ on the strength of its color. It complements my ‘Violet Podded Stringless’ pole beans (don’t give me heat about my color insanity, okay?). That said, the intensity of the color didn’t quite match the catalog picture. In my full sun garden, even during a brutally sunny summer, the hue does not blush to deep burgundy. But it is definitely purple. And as advertised, the taste is exceptional. In other words = flavorful, but not a fashionista.

You can find ‘Kolibri’ through Johnny’s Selected Seeds , Territorial Seed Company and John Scheepers .

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Fritillaria meleagris

A million roadblocks stand between tulips and me. If they aren’t sabotaged by rodents, deer do them in. Tulips happen here, but sometimes it’s nice to grow a plant that doesn’t require dowsing with fermented salmon and rotten eggs, if you catch my drift. That’s why I turned to Fritillaria meleagris. They don’t have the same shock appeal, but they survive without strategic arms.

A Fritillaria meleagris in the garden isn’t going to stop traffic, but it is a subtly graceful thing. If it were in prep school, it would be in the Ralph Lauren league, with its natty checkered outfit and crisply pointed petals. And just like the designer ads, it would have an attitude, dangling saucily from its arched stem. But let’s get real — no matter how fetchingly you’re tricked out — deep maroon, downward facing flowers aren’t going to be doorbusters competing against lilacs, hyacinths and the like. Take them right out of that beauty pageant, I say. Instead, grow fritillarias indoors in the dead of winter.

No, I’m not delusional (yet). Fritillaria meleagris is a great forcer. Absolutely primo. But they certainly haven’t hit the supermarket circuit for that purpose. In fact, I might be one of the only folks in on this secret (leak alert). And I only discovered fritillaria’s forcibility by accident. Somehow, the ground froze before I could finish my bulb fanaticism this year (we’re talking 2,500 bulbs successfully inserted before seize up — but that’s another story). Not to be dissuaded in my derangement, I rounded up all the containers within reach and began potting. The refrigerator filled up with tulips and narcissus in no time (more about my frig follies in www.gardeninggonewild.com. It was looking like the frits wouldn’t be left out in the cold.

Fortunately, that’s when I happened to get on the phone with Brent Heath www.brentandbeckysbulbs.com and The Bulbmeister revealed that fritillarias prefer 50-60 degrees F for a few weeks, which sounded a lot like home to me this winter. So I gave it a try. I simply put my pots of fritillarias beside a cool window. It was a bingo.

The ballet has lasted a month already. At my elbow at the moment are curlicues of foliage shouldering dangling bells with checkerboard markings in various tints of cranberry. What blended right in with the understory in the garden sparkles in the windowsill. Since I’m short of space, I can give them only east-facing light, which is fine with them. I water them when they dry out (which is often), and I’m rewarded by jewel-like blossoms. But the best news? They don’t smell like skunks! That might not sound like something to turn cartwheels about, but when you’re related to a crown imperial (Fritillaria meleagris), people expect bad fumes to pour from your mouth. Well, Fritillaria meleagris does not offend. Not a little stinker. Not even remotely, not even slightly. Pure sophistication. In mid-February, it doesn’t get any better than this.

All photographs copyright Tovah Martin

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Cosmos bipinnatus ‘Rubenza’

Why am I preoccupied with red this week, I wonder? Somehow it seems apropos to talk blush when Valentine’s Day vendors have painted our world wall-to-wall red. But if you assumed from the last sentence that this is about long-stemmed sweetheart roses — fooled you. Instead, I’m taking the opportunity to talk about ruby in a place where you would never think to look — in a cosmos.

I’m a pushover, it’s true. Give me a great dahlia, and I’m all yours. But did I ever imagine that I’d be turning cartwheels over a cosmos? Never.

Okay, conjure up the color red, fix it in your mind’s eye, and fast forward to a much warmer (dare I say sizzling?) time in your life. That would be summer. And you’re on the hunt. No, not for a hottie of the hunk kind. More like cruising for plants, okay? (Some of us think that way.) So you hop in the car and drive halfway to nowhere and back just to check out the action. Bad carbon footprint, I know. But what can I say? I’m a sicko.

In my own defense, I went to Claire’s Garden Center in Patterson, NY with a mission. They have a broad selection of homegrown plants beyond the predictable inventory that everyone trots out in summer. Has anyone else noticed that garden centers are going the way of chain stores? Go to a nursery in North Carolina and you’ll find the same old same old just like the nursery in New England. If anyone out there wants to recommend some nurseries that grow/propagate their own stock, now is the time to pipe up. Anyway, I was looking for off-the-beaten-track herbs (more on herbs in a future blog, I promise) when Cosmos bipinnatus ‘Rubenza’ called out to me. You’d think I had just discovered America. The blood thundered in my ears. The surge ran up my spine. Are you seeing the Valentine’s Day connection here? I’ll leave you to connect the dots.

We’re speaking of a cosmos that starts blooming early and continues flowering without a watercooler break through the entire season. Okay, extended bloom duration is no longer a novelty for cosmos. They’re all like Eveready batteries (don’t bother grousing about your batteries here) and they all tolerate drought, more or less. Finding a cosmos with broad, almost overlapping petals is also not breaking news. But you’ve grown accustomed to cosmos in cutesy seashell colors, I bet. Or the orange C. sulphureus. Or maybe magenta (alias fuchsia). We’re talking ruby red. We’re talking the very same color as Dorothy’s shoes (the ones that got her back to Kansas, for gosh sakes, people). We’re talking (and this is a biggie for the cut flower crowd) a red that combines favorably with other colors. Granted, it starts with sparks and sort of fades down to a rumbling thunder (get the subliminal Valentine’s Day analogy?). But still. I became rather fond of the today and tomorrow aspect of the flower’s progression, but as I said, I’m easily besotted. A cheap date.

Now for the bad news. Try Googling Cosmos ‘Rubenza’ and you’ll find photo after photo showing an ocean of red blossoms giving you the glad hand in unison. Sorry, it just ain’t so. ‘Rubenza’ isn’t Superman. ‘Rubenza’ is more like Dudley Do-Right. It doesn’t have biceps and it won’t flex up and pump out more flowers than any other cosmos under the sun. Whoever achieved those photos bundled the harvest of many cosmos plants together to deliver the goods. So when you direct sow ‘Rubenza’, do it liberally. Get your red mojo working that way. In other words, cosmos wants company. Doing it right might even take more than one packet. And speaking of packets, I found ‘Rubenza’ in the Thompson & Morgan (www.tmseeds.com) catalog as well as through Select Seeds (www.selectseeds.com).

I admit to splurging on a couple of ‘Rubenza’ cell packs that day at Claire’s. Usually, I grow my cosmos the economical way from seed. That’s what I plan to do this year. I’m going straight for my heartthrob. After all, cupid is more appropriately dressed for summer, wouldn’t you say? I’m seeing red.

Posted in Annuals, Cut Flowers | Comments Off on Cosmos bipinnatus ‘Rubenza’

Hemerocallis ‘Primal Scream’

Where would we be without our friends? They offer drive-by advice, they bring plants, they fuel addictions. If I suddenly crave hemerocallis where formerly I was lukewarm, the blame can be solidly pinned on Richard Daniel and Sydney Eddison.

Before Richard and Sydney worked their conspiracy, daylilies were just okay with me. In reality, the right daylilies hadn’t crossed my path. And the fact that I encountered mostly ‘Stella de Oro’ when I was in my “hate yellow” stage did nothing to fan the fires of affection. Plus, I was exposed to some strongly worded negative publicity. Along with double hollyhocks, Tasha Tudor ranted at length against daylilies. That fact alone should have forewarned me that daylilies and I would eventually waltz. And just between you and me — I’ve been flirting with double hollyhocks from a distance as well.

Tasha never wasted a diatribe on anything trivial. And she didn’t tongue-lash the subject of daylilies during a mere one or two harangues. She made her dislike crystal clear on multiple occasions. In fact, mention the word “hemerocallis” in Tasha’s earshot and you might as well forget any hope of tea and scones for the next hour or more.

Why did Tasha chose daylilies for a vendetta? I think it had to do with foliage, really. Or too much foliage. Or the ratio of foliage to flowers. Or the grass-like quality of daylily leaves. Or all of the above. And those same traits might account for why I am now a believer. I rather like plants that balance their blossoms against ample green. Anyway, I feel fairly certain that ‘Primal Scream’ never crossed Tasha’s path. So perhaps she can be forgiven for her prejudice.

It’s not always that I vote with the majority. But it would seem that I run with the crowd when it comes to daylily affinities. But I ask you, who could fail to fall for a flower named ‘Primal Scream’? Apparently, nobody. So few can resist its magnificence that ‘Primal Scream’ has been voted #1 repeatedly by people who know. I speak, of course, of the American Hemerocallis Society and their popularity poll. ‘Primal Scream’ won most recently in 2010, but this isn’t the first time it seduced the judges. Despite the fact that this 1994 hybrid by Curt Hanson (the same hybridizer who brought us daylilies with names like ‘Arrogant Bastard’ and ‘Slipped my Disco’, check out his website at www.crintonic.com) could be called “old news,” it still wows the crowd. And by the way, Curt Hanson will be lecturing to the Connecticut Daylily Society on March 19, 2011 , check www.ctdaylily.com/CDS.html for more details.

But I didn’t know anything about popularity polls or even Stout Medals (and yes, ‘Primal Scream’ took that award home also) when Richard Daniel dropped ‘Primal Scream’ off. (And just in case you haven’t met Richard Daniel, in addition to being a gardener of frightening ability, he’s also a hemerocallis hybridizer with some impressive introductions to his credit.) I was just an unsuspecting neighbor with an indecent amount of garden for one girl, and not enough hemerocallis (in some people’s opinion) in that immodest expanse of cultivated land. It was a scheme, of course. It was a trick. But I went down with a smile.

I’m talking about molten lava colors; I’m speaking of a crackling conflagration of hues laid into thick, wavy petals. On ‘Primal Scream’, the flower is not just orange — it’s fire licked over red hot coals. The petals are long and sleek. Categorized in the “Unusual” group, it has long, octopus-like petals with slight cinching along the edge (not to be confused with ruffles). The petal span is broad (7.5 inches), the flowers linger no longer than the typical one day time allotment, but plenty of buds adorn each stalk and mucho stalks jut from each fan. The fans have long, tidy leaves with the flowers held above.

I had to ask Richard about the qualities that make a daylily winning material, and he clued me in. It’s not enough to merely take one region by storm. For a daylily to chalk up a winning streak of ‘Primal Scream’s proportions, it has to perform throughout the country. By perform, he means producing flowers — which aren’t always in the cards for hemerocallis in the South.

So, what sort of stunts did it pull off in my garden? ‘Primal Scream’ lived up to its name. It’s impeccably good looking throughout its long blooming spree. So far, so good with its rust resistance. Foliage looked great after the last spike was gone. This is a keeper.

It should be said that ‘Primal Scream’ is not the only hemerocallis that Richard Daniel brought that day. He also foisted ‘Red Volunteer’ on me, which won #4 in last year’s popularity rating. It’s true cherry red and the flowers have a nice form. What can I say? The man has taste. And Sydney Eddison has also done her part to populate my garden with addictive daylilies. I blame them both. And now the Connecticut Daylily Society is in on the scheme. I don’t stand a chance.

By the way, I’ll be doing a Terrarium Workshop for the Connecticut Daylily Society on March 5, 2011 at 11:00 in Avon. Contact tvcotter@comcast.net for more information.

Posted in Perennials | Comments Off on Hemerocallis ‘Primal Scream’

Celosia cristata ‘Kurume Corona’

No one wants to dine at my house right now, because you can hardly find the table. If distant memory serves, it’s made of wood. But that won’t be verified until I get the Johnny’s Selected Seed (www.johnnyseed.com) order out the door. So, in the interest of having company again, I’m wading through my seed orders. Hence this blog in the dead of winter.

Who wouldn’t want to think celosia right now? We’ll tackle perennials, shrubs, trees, etc all in good time. But why not warm up to a hot annual? And really, one of the plants that gave rise to plantswise.com was Celosia ‘Kurume Corona’. You need to know about this plant. Your boyfriend needs to know about this plant. So does your sister.

You don’t think you’re the cockscomb type, do you? Neither did I. Celosias seemed to edge dangerously in the doily direction. But any plant that looks like a brain and is painted school bus yellow emblazoned with vibrant magenta steaks is going to catch your eye in mid-January when you’re flipping through seed catalogs, am I right? The seed companies know when your defenses are down. They’re in cahoots with the postal service to stuff your mailbox with temptation.

So I added ‘Kurume Corona’ to my Territorial Seed (www.territorialseed.com) order, thinking that I’d fill in around the asparagus that surround the circular vegetable garden (anyone even remotely pondering installing a circular garden needs to speak with me — I’ll talk you down). I figured that, when visitors came unannounced (suggestion: don’t do it), the ‘Kurume Corona’ would serve as something to steer the conversation away from why my work shirtwaist is held together with safety pins where buttons once did the job and why the hem is dragging. When you look like a train wreck, outrageous plants are the best diversion tactic, I’ve found.

I started the seeds indoors in April, that’s my habit (I know, it’s late — but I hate leggy, sun-deprived, fresh air-challenged seedlings). Then I shuffled the seedlings in and out before danger of frost was over (I know, I know — isn’t that why God created coldframes?). While in “mother hen” mode, they go out in fair weather, they are hustled in (all 20 flats) at dusk. Actually, has anyone else been tempted to grow their seedlings in the back of the station wagon? Just wondering…

Confession time. Sometimes I didn’t hustle them in quickly enough (that’s why the station wagon came to mind). They took a few near hits with frost in their stride. Finally, I planted them out. And then forgot about them. I had other axes to grind.

Not much action from the celosia patch for the better part of the summer. But the asparagus was delicious and diverted my attention (that falls in the “other axes to grind” department). But ‘Kurume Corona’ showed incredible drought tolerance. I mean, last summer was the acid test. Everything else in the garden was gasping for water and going into the swoon state except the celosia. Standing straight and tall at about 30 inches, it’s a trooper. For the better part of the summer, it was a boring trooper, but a trooper nonetheless. No flowers until the end of summer. I had murder in my eyes, I admit, until finally these tiny little topknots began to form. Not the sort of flower that rushes to save face. Had it been any other flower, it would have been curtains. But celosias start their blossoms as buttons, basically. By late summer, they were ravishing. Everyone who visited was drool, drool, drool. I was the most popular dinner date in town. Mixed with the fennel that was bolting (don’t ask) and ornamental grass tassels, it was the life of the party. Whipped the bouquet out with a big “ta da!” when the appetizers were being served. Dynamite!

Apparently ‘Kurume Corona’ is part of a Kurume series. The rest of the family doesn’t give off the same vibes except perhaps ‘New Scarlet’ with burgundy leaves to fill in the midsummer blah blip. As for its performance as a dried flower, I don’t know (comment please!). I ended up cutting all my ‘Kurume Corona’ to bundle up in summer bouquets. And I see that, in addition to Territorial Seeds, Burpee (www.burpee.com) now also lists it. Two thumbs up.

How about it, anyone else equally enthusiastic? Or have you fallen for another celosia? Tell me.

Posted in Annuals, Cut Flowers | Comments Off on Celosia cristata ‘Kurume Corona’

Jan/Feb 2011 Where I’m At

This is a running tally of where you can find me in the upcoming months:

Tovah Martin on the Newsstand:

  • Country Gardens Early Spring 2011:  Tulip Time in Maine
  • Coastal Home Winter 2011:  Gardening Under Glass
  • Urban Farm Jan/Feb 2011: Orchards of Brotherly Love
  • Hobby Farm Home Jan/Feb 2011: Home Tweet Home
  • LCT January 2011: A Flower Child in Litchfield

Tovah Martin upcoming lectures and workshops (see www.tovahmartin.com for more details:

  • March 5, 2011 ~ 11:00 AM: CT Daylily Society ~ Avon, CT. Terrarium workshop.
  • March 12, 2011 ~ 11:00 AM: Northeast Expo ~ Sturbridge, MA. Terrarium workshop. www.northeastfloralexpo.com
  • March 19, 2011 ~ 1:30 PM: Boston Flower & Garden Show ~ Boston, MA. Lecture ~ The New Terrarium www.thebostonflowershow.com
  • March 22, 2011 ~ 7:00 PM: Middlebury Garden Club ~ Middlebury, CT. Terrarium workshop.
  • March 27, 2011 ~ 3:00 PM: Lori Warner Studio ~ Chester, CT. Terrarium workshop. www.loriwarner.com

Tovah in other media:

  • blogging on gardeninggonewild.com

On the Road/In the Future:

  • April 8, 2011 ~ Terrarium workshop & Lecture: Des Moines Botanical Garden ~ Des Moines, IA
  • April 9, 2011 ~ Lecture: Knoxville Garden Club Anniversity Gala ~ Knoxville, IA
  • September 10, 2011 ~ Lecture: Master Gardeners ~ Rochester, NY
  • September 26, 2011 ~ Lecture: Basin Harbor Club ~ Vergennes, VT
  • October 2, 2011 ~ Terrarium workshop: Linden Hill ~ Ottsville, PA
Posted in Where I'm At | Comments Off on Jan/Feb 2011 Where I’m At

Terrarium Making Lesson

photograph copyrighted by Kindra Clineff

Okay, here comes the pep talk: You can do this. Your kid can do this. Your grandmother can do this. Your hamster probably can’t.

Why do this? Because this terrarium will rescue your life. You will find peace. Your boss won’t seem so obnoxious. The world will be a better place. Nature will seep into all the little nooks and crannies of your existence. Your family will thank you (but the kids won’t necessarily stop whining). Creativity will reign. Winter will be bearable (sort of). All this from a terrarium.

Anatomy Lesson: What do you need? Just:

  • a glass container (okay, you can use plastic, but it won’t sparkle). Any size works. Helps if you can fit your hand through the mouth.
  • 3/8 inch pebbles
  • horticultural charcoal (get it at a garden center or aquarium supply store)
  • potting soil (light African violet type mix works, I use organic)
  • watering can
  • nature objects like seed pods, lichen-covered sticks, seashells, whatever grooves you
  • gloves (Always wear gloves. Don’t argue with me.)

photograph copyrighted by Kindra Clineff

Ready? Here’s how to make it happen:

  • Put on the gloves.
  • Mix water into the potting soil before you start. Don’t overdo it.
  • Pour (or scoop, it’s your call) 1-2 inches of pebbles into the bottom of the glass container.
  • Add a small handful of horticultural charcoal.
  • Mix the pebbles and charcoal together.
  • Add a separate layer of 2-3 inches of potting soil.
  • Tamp it down and level it lightly to give a flat planting surface.
  • Dig a hole in the soil to receive your first plant.
  • Tuck that baby into the hole. Firm it in. Really firm it in. Firm it in again.
  • Repeat for the other plants. Don’t crowd. This isn’t a subway.
  • Add the nature objects. Feel the creativity pulsing in your veins. You’re forging frontiers where hamsters never ventured.
  • Water the terrarium lightly.
  • Put the lid on.
  • See, I told you = Peace.

Stay tuned for long term care instructions on my next blog. Meanwhile, Enjoy!

Posted in Terrariums | Comments Off on Terrarium Making Lesson

Terrariums to the Rescue: The Dirt on Terrarium Plants

terrarium photo

photograph copyright by Kindra Clineff

The icicles are aimed straight at me. The snow is up to my waist (which isn’t as deep as you might think, but still). Einstein (the Mad Purrfessor) is going stir crazy by leaps and bounds, claw and fang (it’s hard to be a kitten in January). And I’m shackled to the computer for the foreseeable future. But no matter. Because there’s a terrarium sitting by my side and all is well in my Small World.

Where would I be without terrariums in winter? My house is jammed with houseplants, it’s true. But there’s something about a terrarium that is sparkling and creative. It sends your imagination roaming. It ignites the child in anyone. Do you feel the same way? It’s like a pet. It’s like community. I create terrariums as gifts and then can’t bear to part with them. Is it only me? Or does everyone get invested in their crystal kingdoms?

So, you’ve got a steamy love affair going with this little world you created. You don’t want it to fizzle out. This is your mini-world, your solace and refuge. You don’t want it to fail. Full disclosure here — I wrote a book about terrariums — The New Terrarium (Clarkson Potter). And I’ve been making them since childhood. Nowadays, they are sleeker, more artistic versions of the “science experiments” I concocted in my youth. And inside, they are more apt to feature a community of plants coexisting. I’ve got dozens of these in my house. They’re meant to be low maintenance, high profile, and last for years. So let’s talk about what works over the long haul.

In full sun, a terrarium will fry. It will bake like a closed car in the summer sun. In sun, terrarium plants can scorch in a blink. Plus, they are humid environments. Weatherwise, it’s a jungle in there. So cacti and succulents don’t work in terrariums. They won’t last longer than a couple of weeks. If you’ve managed to keep cacti and succulents chugging along, let me know. I want to hear from you. But it doesn’t work for me. For the same reason, most herbs and other sun-loving plants (geraniums, etc) don’t work in a terrarium.

So, what are the best terrarium plants? Mosses and ferns are primo. They love a terrarium. Selaginellas and any sort of fern that remains dwarf will thrive. Likewise, miniature orchids and tropical lady’s slippers also do great. Here’s a list of some workhorses for terrariums: selaginellas (spreading club mosses), ferns, fittonia (nerve plants), Saxifraga stolonifera, baby’s tears, ivies, creeping figs, miniature rhizomatous begonias, air plants (tillandsias), African violets, pileas, and peperomias. Take this list to your local nursery — hey, you could probably take this list to your supermarket — and these are readily available plants.

Okay, this should get you started. More terrarium blogs will be posted in the future, but I just wanted to get your engines revving here. Remember: Anyone can make a terrarium. You can do it. Your kids can do it. Your clumsy cousin who’s all thumbs (not necessarily green) can do it. And anyone can make a terrarium inexpensively in an apothecary jar or a Mason jar. It is the perfect school project or senior center activity. And it will bring nature and you close together. Just think what a terrarium could do for your office cubicle…Ready? Get set. Go!

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