Winter gardens

One of our first native woodland wildflowers to bloom is Hepatica. Hepatica acutiloba has slightly pointed liver-shaped leaves (the genus name reflects this), while H. americana has more rounded lobes. Spring is definitely on the way when we see the first Hepatica flowers, tucked among the leaves on moist banks, often along stream. Hepatica nobilis is a European species that also flowers early. I remember the excitement that my fellow lab members expressed in a long ago excursion; apparently, it was a German tradition, at least among botanical types, to troop off to see the first Hepatica flowers, even if they were just emerging above the snow!

We have a small patch in our Woodland Wildflower Garden at the botanical garden -- flowering through the cold and warm spells of late February.

Camellias are stalwarts of southern winter gardens. We're lucky to be able to grow them; our northern neighbors are anxiously hoping for hardier cultivars that are reliable. Ours are drought-tolerant when established, live for a long time, are relatively pest-free, and brighten winter days with their diversity of colors and shapes. I haven't ever planted a camellia, but have been the grateful beneficiary of previously planted ones at the two houses that we've lived in here in the South.

There are 4 large camellias around our house in Clemson, two lovely pink ones, a white one that always gets zapped by frost, and a beautiful tree-sized 'Professor Sargent' that illuminates the front entrance with its deep red flowers. The red flowers are a welcome contrast to the grays and browns of the winter landscape, even as crocuses, daffodils, and snowdrops brighten the garden beds.

An excursion to Charlotte, NC in the company of fellow gardening friends today revealed more winter-flowering treasures, including a Frittilaria, Erica, and Ranunculus in Elizabeth Lawence's garden, a lovely black and white Iris (Widow's Iris), a diversity of hellebores, including a striking purple cultivar, a 'weedy' Ranuculus that was lovely, and also in flower, an unusual Clematis in flower, and another striking Ranunculus (I think) with the cultivar name of 'Brazen Hussy.' I'm out of my area of expertise when it comes to cultivars of horticultural gems, being a native plant sort of person by background and 'training', but it's great fun to see them in lovingly tended gardens.

A late winter walk

The calendar is late February, but there are many signs of spring on a morning walk at the Garden. All the winter and early flowering Asian species are in full swing; camellias, Japanese apricots, and magnolias, joined by the Mediterranean daffodils and rosemary. But some of our natives are also early; the tiny flowers of winged elm pose a nice contrast to the corky stems, and the male cones of red cedar (Juniperus virginiana) released great puffs of pollen when touched.

Walking in the woodland wildflower area, part of the Garden's forest & woodland areas, we spotted first a single red-shouldered hawk in flight, stopping briefly so I noticed s/he was carrying a stick. The females are bigger than the males, but otherwise they look similar. Flying on to a large twiggy nest high in a tulip poplar tree, a second hawk joined the first, and then they stood on a nearby branch together. It's not too far from where a pair nested 2 years ago, and were quite easy to observe feeding their nestlings for a month or so before fledging. Here's a great photo taken at that time by one of our visitors, Louis Bregger. Hopefully the pair we saw this morning will continue at this nest location -- it takes awhile to build a nest, and both parents incubate the eggs; this one is in a good place to watch and keep an eye on, but high enough that I don't think visitors will be bothersome. I've got groups of kids this week coming for programs about 'Discovering Wildlife Habitats' that it will be fun to have them observe a new nest in progress, albeit from a distance!

Huge flocks of small blackbirds were swooping around the willow oaks, their soft twittering calls collectively loud. When they flew towards the meadows, foraging in the winter grass, it was easy to see that they were a mixed flock of foragers; I need to look up what they were, as they were much smaller than crows and some of our other common 'blackbirds.'

A beautiful red-headed woodpecker flew up into one of the nearby trees, giving me a glimpse of his (or her) bright red head. I first thought it was a red-bellied, since I haven't seen many red-headed woodpeckers in our area, more commonly red-bellied or pileated. A smaller downy woodpecker was working nearby; I didn't catch a glimpse of a red patch, so she was probably a female. I've always been interested in birds, but only in the last 5 or 10 years have focused on learning calls, field marks, and sizes of common birds.

Plants, animals, insects, and a variety of habitats made for a perfect winter morning excursion.

More rain

I talked to a fellow this week who grew up in West Texas, where he said the topic of discussion has always been rain. Ranchers there (of which his father was one) talked about needing rain, is rain coming, how much did we get, etc. -- it was critical to the dryland forage that the cattle depended on, and meant big expenses to bring in extra hay for feed. So the continuing drought in the Southeast (where he had lived for 15 years, compared with the deluges that came last summer in Texas and mid-west, where he lives now) posed an odd puzzle for him to contemplate.

Thinking about the drought here, and the weather extremes that seem to be becoming greater, with the contrast of floods in the Central U.S. last summer, and record snowpacks in the Rockies and Sierra, with concerns of spring flooding this year are something to consider.

But it's raining here now, and perhaps we'll get a couple of inches. Our rain gauge split over winter break, an unfortunate casualty of being not put away before traveling, and freezing and thawing. Time to get another one, and start watching the totals again.