By Sue Healey – Tillsonburg Horticultural Society 

Although we’ve become used to green Decembers in Southwestern Ontario, roses blooming in the last days of a warm and wet November make winter seem far away. And yet, snow or not, the holiday season will come. With it the lights and jingles and gift guides; the lists of ideas for those of us out of them. As a gardener, I am and have been the target of those lists. I’ve been fortunate to have received decades of garden gifts. Useful, playful, thoughtful and unexpected, most were used, all were appreciated. But there are those that resonate, that continue to give long after they’ve been given. When I think of what my own gift guide would include, it is these few treasures I wouldhave again and give in turn. They would be those that have introduced me to a new facet of the natural world or broadenedmy understanding of it and my place in it. They would be those that have helped without harming.

One of my first and most prized gifts for the garden was a birdbath. For almost 30 years it has anchored my gardens. It’s basin, sides covered in lichen, has held flocks of bluebirds and reflections of the summer sky. It has grown spears of surprise ice when we’ve been hasty or slow in our ritual to open and close the seasons. Chipmunks and robins have sat at its edge, sharing evening drinks. Bees and butterflies, wasps and dragonflies meet there too, all equal in their thirst. The cleaning and refilling of it, my son’s first garden task, is a daily reminder that we are not alone in the garden. Grand or whimsical, on a pedestal or at ground level, water brings life to the garden as no other element can.

The simple gift of a seat can be profound. It is the gift of rest, of stillness, of pause. I am a restless gardener, as my father was,always on the move and never content to sit. But I’ve found the joy in stillness. Found it on a bench made just for me. Found it there, with my back warm against the west wall, sitting and reflecting upon my work and my world. A garden seat offers rest for the weary and encourages contemplation. It offers a view from a different perspective and can become a destination in it’s own right; a seat in the shade or a dry spot to watch the rain. Benches and chairs, stools and seats, each a gift beyond measure. 

And I would have books on my list. Great stacks of them; huge picture books with glorious photos of far away gardens, thick reference books brimming with facts, biographies, diaries and how-to guides. I would want them well researched and written, full of knowledge and inspiration. What cold Sunday morning isn’t brightened by a tower of gardening books to peruse? If space is tight, digital and audio versions offer another whole world of information to explore. Many are available at our local libraries.

Gardeners are a finicky lot, and I would advise against giving tools as gifts. Garden tools are like shoes, they need to fit the owner and are best chosen in person. There are however, a few basic hand tools that all gardeners should have in their repertoire. Good quality secateurs in a medium cutting capacity are a gardener’s most used tool and make wonderful gifts no matter the occasion. Likely not the first, a second or third pairwill gladly be accepted. Long handled loppers, anotherindispensable pruning tool makes light work of most small tree branches, and a ratcheting set will get you kissed. A folding hand saw takes care of what the loppers won’t and completes a good collection of pruning tools.

Small but mighty gifts are gloves to work in the garden. My favourite are made by Watson, have a Nitril coating from palm to fingertips that makes them resistant rose thorns and water. A breathable back and a snug fit for my shortish fingers plus being machine washable, makes this a gift I would gladly receive every year (I am a size medium).

For those gardeners who’ve already got their water and their rest, the gift of experience is a sure way to please. When all of us seem to have just too much stuff, garden tours, exhibitions, clubs, and societies all offer new and exiting ways to enjoy the garden without adding to the pile. Wrap your gift in the ribbon of companionship by going along on the excursion. 

Gardening can be a solitary endeavour, but some of my fondest memories are of those times when I could share my passion and in doing so see it from another’s point of view. Whether it’s a garden tour on vacation, a walk through the forest, or a trip to the garden centre, sharing can be the rarest, most valued gift we give or receive.

In this spirit of sharing and celebration, The Tillsonburg Horticultural Society will be holding their annual Christmas Potluck dinner instead of regular meetings on Tuesday, December 3, 2024. We wish you and yours a safe and healthy holiday season and peace in the new year.

Regular meetings will resume on January 7, 2025.

📷Sue

By Sue Healey, Tillsonburg Horticultural Society 

The cold reality of November usually hits me in the garden. Most often, it’s late in the day and raining and I am struggling to find space in the already packed beds for that last bulb or plant or bush that I so blithely bought in the spring. There, with wet shoulders and numb hands, I realize it’s November and there was snow last night. The growing year is over. Whatever plans I had for the garden will now have to wait until spring. And while I love the austere beauty of winter, the loss of light and colour isalways keenly felt. It’s this time of year that I appreciate my potted plants most. While outside is bare and black, the indoor garden is alive and growing. My collection of indoor plants has just come in from their summer outdoors and most are at their finest. None more so, than the begonias. This large and diverse family of plants, with colourful leaves and outlandish shapes, is an excellent way to dispel some of the gloom November can bring. Their care, a healthy distraction from the shortening days and worsening weather.

While I grow a paltry few begonia, there are thousands of varieties to be had. One could easily fall down the rabbit hole of collection. There are three main categories: 1) fibrous rooted, examples include angel wing and wax, 2) tuberous, container plants featuring prominent flowers and 3) rhizomatous, grown for fabulous foliage. Over the decades I have grown all three types and found outstanding examples of each. 

For outdoor hanging baskets or mixed containers, tuberous begonias with their Day-Glo blossoms offer a wide selection of both colour and form. With blooms in white to fuchsia and every shade in between, this variety is best with some sun during the early part of the day and consistent moisture. The leaves can be large and jagged, sometime suffused with colour, depending on the variety. But they are mostly overshadowed by the exquisite, double blossoms reminiscent of piped icing flowers. A well grown blooming begonia is a showstopper as a specimen. Plants can be overwintered from year to year by storing tubers in peat or sawdust in shallow trays and replanting in spring. More often, they are treated as annuals. 

Fibrous begonias include both the bedding type, often referred to as wax begonias and the angel wing begonias. Wax begonias have been used for decades in outdoor public gardens and make good filler, taking more sun than most in their family. Angel or dragon wing type offer outstanding foliage with leaves held in pairs, often with jagged edges and silver markings. Frost tender and usually grown as a houseplant, the canes can be pruned to maintain a bushier, shorter profile. In late winter, small bunches of pink or red blossoms dangle among the leaf bracts. Bright, indirect light and consistent moisture will keep these begonias going for years. 

For spectacular foliage, the rhizomatous begonia reigns supreme. No other plant can rival the range of leaf colour and form that this category encompasses. The Rex series includessome of the most dramatic plants available to the average gardener. Extensive breeding and hybridizing have resulted in otherworldly combinations. Some boast huge leaves, glinting like metallic shields, veins etched in contrasting red or purple. “Escargot” is a fine and popular example, it’s leaves made of impossible swirls of silver and green. 

The large leaved Rexvarieties are at their best grown outdoors where summer light and humidity are ample. They are less amiable to overwinter but worthy of the effort. Smaller divisions and a cool, bright room with good air circulation is the best starting point. Easier to grow and keep, if less flashy, is beefsteak begonia (Begonia erythrophylla). This stalwart old favourite was introduced in1845 and it’s glossy, plate sized leaves have been gracing ourwindowsills ever since. Tough and resilient, I use it as a houseplant in dim rooms, the deep green leaves getting larger (but fewer) the farther away the light is. In bountiful light, the leaves will pleat and ruffle in their rush to expand. In outdoor containers, it makes a good foil for showier begonias, ferns or primrose. 

Easily propagated but hard to find in shops, your best bet is a gardening friend or neighbourhood plant sale. Mine came as gift, wrapped in a wet paper towel one cold December day, 20 years ago. It has been nick-named Maida’s begonia ever since.  

Smaller rhizomatous versions come in hot pink, silver, or lime green. My favourite drapes over it’s pot with leaves like eyelids streaked with neon and edged in winking lashes. Begonia bowerae forms small, neat mounds on long winding stems. It isa hardy plant, easily adaptable to any but the darkest environments. But given a cool spot where it can stretch towardsbright light, moist but not damp soil, this begonia will bloom in late winter. Thin, foot long stems shoot out over it’s mounding leaves, dangling ballerina-pink blossoms for a month or more. There is a daily shower of papery husks, its cleanup gladly done, a small price for the gift of beauty on early winter days. 

Lift the November blues with the gift of sharing and society. Your local Horticultural Society holds regular meetings, fundraisers and workshops – a great way to spend an evening, meet some interesting people and learn something new.

November’s featured speaker is Sharon Bowler, author, historian, teacher and gardener. Sharon will present “Four Seasons of Winter Hardy Cactus”

Tuesday, November 5, 2024, Tillsonburg Seniors Centre, 7:30 pm. $20/year $4/meeting

“Come as guest, stay as a member.”

📷Sue

By Sue Healey – Tillsonburg Horticultural Society

Of all the gardening seasons, Autumn may be my favourite. I love it for its contrasts. Warm days filled with sunshine, mornings of sharp frost and swaths of colour in a rich and diverse palette. October hillsides are still awash in waves of golden rod. Their frothy flower heads break against the scarlet humps of sumac, forming eddies around the pools of purple asters. Along the roadsides native grasses nod their burnished heads in greeting as we pass. The browns are still golden and there is enough green to highlight all of it. October is bold and vibrant and all the more lovely for the frost to come. It’s a good month to be outside and an excellent one for garden work. Moderate temperatures and the eventual autumn rains make this an ideal time for garden projects whether they be renovations, additions or removals. 

While my own garden is full and well established there is always some plant that wants moving or sharing. Most plants prefer division in autumn when cool temperatures and rain make the move easier, for plant and gardener. Spring blooming plants; peonies, iris, rose, and clematis can all be moved now. Most of these have finished flowering and root disturbance won’t jeopardize the display. Late bloomers, think grape leaved anemones, chrysanthemums and sedum, would be better moved in spring. An early spring planting gives them time to reestablish themselves and still produce flowers in the same year. 

This year’s project includes the removal of a decade old peony(Paeonia). Peonies are long lived perennials that rarely need division. When they do, a strong back and a good set of garden forks will make the job easier. Working the forks gently around the clump will eventually pry it out. It’s always harder than I imagine. Those roots cling so desperately that I always have a moment of doubt! But it does let go after a few more rounds. Peony roots are both woody and brittle and are easily broken.Once out of the ground, they can be trimmed and separated intoIndividual crowns, each with 3-5 stalks or growing tips. Divisions should be replanted immediately with no more than 5 cm (2 inches) of soil covering growing tips. Planting any deeper results in foliage and no flowers.  As with all new plantings, water well and regularly until the ground freezes. Peonies may take a year or two to resume flowering after being disturbed but won’t need to be moved again for decades. 

Siberian and Japanese Iris are also on the list this year. Both need frequent division to remain vigorous and promote blooming. Siberian Iris (Iris siberica), with its fleur-de-lis blooms and grass like foliage is tough enough to handle being divided every 3-4 years. Clumps are lifted out whole and cut into manageable wedges using a sharp spade or knife. Japanese Iris (Iris ensata) stands up to the same treatment and will bloom the following spring without missing a beat. Both require rich, moisture retentive soil and full sun to produce years of spectacular blooms. 

Daylilies are among the few perennials that can be moved in either season. Hardy and resilient, daylilies will bounce back within weeks of replanting. Garden forks are the tool here again.I like to work my way around the plant – rocking, poking, pushing. Sometimes cajoling, sometimes swearing. A few rounds and eventually the centre moves, and once it does, you have it. After the clump is out of the ground, two garden forks, inserted back-to-back through the centre of the plant will pry it in two. This can be repeated on each section until you have the sizes you want. Smaller divisions fare better than large. 

Foliage plants such as Hosta, Bergenia and ferns are also best moved or divided in autumn. In early spring, newly emerging leaves are delicate and easily damaged. Whatever damage you do in spring is there all year. Better to divide them at the end of the season when leaves are at the end of their life. Hostas can be uprooted and divided in the same manner as daylilies, if a bit more gently. Treat Bergenia and ferns as you would peonies. Both plants have roots with growing tips that should be shallowly replanted. Rich soil that is consistently moist will result in healthy, vigorous growth.

Of course, there are always extras when you divide a plant. If space or time is at a premium, consider potting up those extra plantlets. Many trees, shrubs and perennials can be overwintered in pots if given the right conditions. A trench dug deep enough to sink the entire pot, backfilled with soil and covered in deep piles of snow will ensure your plants survive the winter. Easier to achieve, but riskier, is lining them against a wall or hedge and covering the pots with leaves to insulate against the cold. Come spring, you will have decisions to make and plants to give. Consider donating extras to the Tillsonburg Horticultural Society’s annual garden auction. The society is an excellent way to give your divisions a new home.

This month’s speaker is Ben Porchuk of Carolinian Canada. Just in time for fall planting, he will be sharing tips on how to use natives in our own gardens and outdoor spaces.

Tuesday, October 1, 2024, Tillsonburg Seniors Centre, 7:30 pm

$20/year $4/meeting

Come as guest, stay as a member.

📷 S Healey 

By Sue Healey

July is upon us and with it, high summer’s long, warm days. Blue skies and warm breezes beckon us away from our regular lives to the beach, ice-cream stand, or hammock. After all the bustle of spring and early summer July can feel almost hushed in comparison. Most of our early work is done and the burst of blooms has given way to a more sedate palette of green. A nap in the shade is one of the finest pleasures in life and in this month, there is time for them. But the garden also beckons and there is always something to be done if you look long enough. Over the years I have learned to appreciate the work of a garden. The benefits are many; physical, emotional, and environmental. Interacting with our natural environment not only moves our bodies, but it also moves our mood – I have rarely come out of the garden worse than when I went in. So, I love July for the chance to take my time at my chores. For quiet moments in amongst the plants. To think of nothing and everything and maybe discover something new. 

The hot, dry weather of July are perfect conditions to addressweeds you might have missed in early spring. A thorough clean up in early to mid July will stop many of the worst annual and perennial weeds from going to seed. As cliché as it may sound,“one years seeding, seven years weeding” is simple truth. Removing unwanted plants before they set seed is half the battle. As a garden matures and plants shade the ground around them there will be less, and less maintenance but some weeds will always find a way in. Regular weeding decreases their numbers and how difficult they are to remove. A good sharp steak knife makes an excellent weeding tool for work in amongst plants. And while you are there you may be lucky (andstill) enough to spot others at their work. I have spied leaf cutter bees slicing half moons out of the red bud leaves and native carpenter bees shaving the fuzz from rose campion stalks. I’vecaught mama rabbits under the peonies and dragonflies at their afternoon slumber. 

The removal of spent flowerheads, also known as deadheading,is chore that really isn’t one. Many spring blooming plants have finished flowering and stalks can now be removed. For those plants that are a bit exuberant in their sprawl (Campanula, Stachys, Muscari) deadheading is an effective way to keep them contained. A decent pair (or two) of secateurs will make quick work of most stalks. Daylilies are the star of July and a joy to deadhead. The gentle and methodical removal of the spent flowers is my favourite way to decompress after the workdayand I look forward to the daily task. Daylilies each have their ways, and some are better than others. My mango daylily is my favourite to deadhead, as satisfying as plucking ripe fruit. I save it for guests if I can. The reds and deep purple varieties like to be groomed in the morning, their faded blossoms leaving your fingers stained with their dye. Others will drop at the slightest touch. You can, of course, leave them to their own devices. The spent flowers will eventually dry and fall on their own and be no worse for wear beyond an occasional dried bloom stuck to a new bud. As with most deadheading, it is a general tidying before the late summer wave of bloom.

Daffodill foliage is still ripening into July and can be unattractive as it yellows and flops. Tucking the leaves among later blooming plants hides them as they mature. Tulip foliage needs time as well but by mid July can be removed with a gentle tug of the stiff brown stem – another satisfying sensation. Allium and any of the early spring flowering bulbs are treated in the same way. If you’re of a mind to divide your bulbs, any time after the leaves have withered is the time to do it. Bulbs can be dried, sorted and replanted immediately or stored in a cool, dry place until planting in early fall.

If the spring has been wet and the growth lush, as it has been this year, early July is the time to thin plants for air circulation. Peonies, tall garden phlox, and Monarda are all prone to powdery mildew. Thin out overcrowded plants by removing a few stalks to increase air movement and mitigate both disease and pests. As the season moves on and the late summer show begins, plants that are past their flowering stage or tattered can be trimmed back to give late bloomers their moment in the spotlight.

That is enough work to warrant a nap. If you can do only one or two chores before you are off, make it weeding or watering, whichever is most necessary. And if you don’t have enough garden work of your own, your local Horticultural Society certainly does. Volunteers are always welcome and celebrated as the great gift they are. THS regular meetings are on summer pause until September, but you can contact them through their web and social media sites.

📷 S Healey

By Sue Healey, Tillsonburg Horticultural Society 

Orange?

When The Ontario Horticultural Association announced that the 2024 colour of the year was orange, you may have asked the question – Orange? It’s the question I’m usually asked when revealing that my favourite colour is and always has been, orange. So, I would like to congratulate the OHA on an excellent choice and use this occasion to sing the praises of a highly underrated and underused colour. 

I have loved orange for decades, beginning in my teens when theglorious harvest sunrises would light my way to the fields and sometimes, when frost was close, sunsets to light my way home. Those big skies gave me an appreciation for how changeable and broad this colour was; it was warm, cool, bold, and soft. In the garden I have used and loved this wonderful colour from the very beginning. Orange punctuates a planting, instilling a sense of movement and vigour. It pairs with a broad range of colours, warm and cool both. Throughout the seasons good examples can be found in annuals, perennials, trees, and shrubs. Whether it floods the petals, or outlines an edge, orange isexciting, enticing and worthy of the title, colour of the year.

Spring brings the warmth of orange to our gardens with Crown Imperials (fritillaria imperialis) and species tulips. Both add a bold and clear colour element to the end of daffodil season. The perennial tulip, Darwin “Apeldoorn” is a glowing orange – just what we need to jolt us awake after a winter’s greyness. The Geum family, a large and varied group of low mounding plants boasts a fine assortment of bright to pale orange blooms. Bloom time bridges the gap between tulips and peonies. Late blooming wood hyacinths or early irises make pleasingcompanions to any of the spring oranges.

Summer belongs to the romance of roses, and none are as good for shades of orange as David Austin roses. This group boasts colour, repeat bloom, excellent fragrance, and hardiness. “Port Sunlight” is a soft yellow double with a warm, apricot centre and enchanting lemon scent. I partner it with sky blue perennial flax (Linum perrene) for a two week show that has me visiting daily. The next wave of orange isin July with the sumptuous display of Daylilies (Hemerocallis). Offering a wide range of luscious fruit colours; mango, apricot, peach,and melon, some have streaks, some have frills, all are wonderful in their way. My favourite daylily pairing is one of a mango-coloureddaylily set in front of a matte purple smoke bush – a combination to stop you in your tracks. For a cooler, more sedate picture, orange and green are an easy and elegant combination. Add a little silver and you have created the herbal version of a creamsicle. Miscanthus “Morning Light,” a well-behaved grass plays a backup roll to a clear orange daylily and Russian sage (pervoskia) in one of my favourite and enduring groupings. And even with pink, orange can sing (although I’ve heard it said otherwise); think of a stand of mixed zinnias at the height of summer, all ablaze with colour and butterflies – who would walk away from such a happy riot?  

As autumn moves in, combinations of orange and yellow bring warmth and comfort to the garden. Marigolds and sunflowers, helenium andcrocosmia all add touches of flame. Mexican sunflower (tithonia) is a vibrant orange-red annual, tall and bold enough to mix with late season grasses. Add red and the garden becomes fiery; easy to do when leaves are changing. Asters in shades of blues are especially lovely as a counterpoint to all that rich colour.

Winter gives us a chance to use different plants, or even parts of plants as highlights in the garden during an otherwise dormant time of year. Bark and stem colour becomes more prominent against snow or dark earth. Sedums such as “Angelina” show exceptional winter colouring, the normally apple green stems tipped in neon orange are a glowing winter delight. Paperbark Maple (acer griseum) shows off vibrant fall foliage and peeling, metallic orange bark and is small enough in stature to be included in most suburban yards. I hope you take this opportunityto explore this dynamic colour, try some new combinations and break a few old rules. 

If you need inspiration or are looking for more orange options, the 16thAnnual Tillsonburg Horticultural Society Plant Auction and Sale will be held on May 21, 2024, at the Lion’s auditorium. There will be plant, veggie, bake and prize tables along with live auction of great garden merchandise. Open to all, the doors open at 5:00pm.

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By Sue Healey

April 2024

“April, come she will.”

“When streams are ripe and swelled with rain”. So sings Art Garfunkel in one of my favourite songs of the season (there are few). That pure, crystalline voice always evokes pictures of snowbanks dripping into rushing waters under a brilliant winter sky. As March leaves us, cold and damp with a final, inevitable, dumping of snow, and April is forecast to be rainy, there won’t be many brilliant skies but plenty of swollen streams.

All that water has me thinking and digging into rain gardens. I’ve been hearing the term more often in the last few years, usually in relation to native gardening and urban runoff. On a late winter day, watching the water rush down my street and into the storm drain, I decided to explore a gardener’s way to save that water.

A rain garden is simply that, a garden designed for the rain. More nuanced, it is a collection of plants designed to collect and filter water that would otherwise run overland, into storm drains and eventually into our waterways. This water often sweeps pollutants, debris, and soil along with it leading to the poisoning of aquatic flora and fauna. Rain gardens also help prevent the erosion that so often happens with sudden and intense rainstorms. Usually consisting of plants that tolerate periods of heavy moisture, native species are particularly well suited for rain gardens. Best situated away from buildings, they can be incorporated into areas where water naturally pools, using what is already a feature of the landscape. Gardens can be as large or as small as needed and are relatively easy to achieve; dig out a concave area, partially backfill it with a mixture of black earth and sand, and plant with your choice of species. The Toronto and Region Conservation Authority (TRCA) has published a comprehensive rain garden guide with detailed plans that are easy to understand and free to print or download. They also offer a long list of recommended plants that range from shrubs such as red-osier dogwood (Cornus sericea) and elderberry (Sambucus canadensis) to low and tall grasses like tufted hairgrass (Deschampsia cespitosa) and big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii). There are also numerous flowering plants to choose from; butterfly weed (Asclepias tuberose), spotted Joe-pye weed (Eupatorium maculatum), New England aster (Symphyotrichum novae-angliae) and black-eye Susan (Rudbeckia hirta) to name a few of the sun lovers. If you have a more shaded spot, white turtlehead (Chelone glabra) will do better.

My rain garden would be situated in the area where my rain barrel overflows. I’ve been eyeing it up for the last few years and think it has the potential to be a great rain garden. There is already a small garden in the space, but it’s in need of an overhaul. I grow a number of the plants mentioned in the guide and may end up moving some divisions of Joe-pye weed and black-eyed Susan. I am however, intrigued by those grasses and may choose a variety of natives, perhaps mulched with gravel to further help drainage. This garden would share the space with a clothes line that has no plans of moving. Low profile grasses that wouldn’t  interfere with waving sheets may be the answer to more than the overflowing rain barrel. As always, any digging would be done after good research and only when the soil is workable. As tempting as April sunshine can be, soil temperatures need to be warm enough to accept those eventual additions.

Regardless of what I choose to plant, the rain garden will help store the water I can’t. The garden will save, purify it, use it to nourish the plants that will in turn, help feed and house pollinators and who will, in their turn, become food for a host of other bird and wildlife, who will continue the cycle. April showers will then bring so much more than just flowers.  

And before any major digging, I’ll be doing some warmup with my local Horticultural Society. April’s speaker is Chris Streib, registered physiotherapist, and owner of Talbot Trail Physio. Chris will show us how to “Bend like a Sapling, Not Break like a Twig…”

Meeting begins Tuesday, April 2, at 7:30pm. All welcome. Membership $20/year or $4/ meeting. Come as a guest, stay as a member.

By Sue Healey

March 2024

The season begins.

March always has me scanning the horizon. On the commute home, on trips with my family, anywhere I can, I track the setting sun for signs that the days are finally getting longer. Each day, the sun is a little higher over the barn roofs. More daylight and warming weather kindles in me a restlessness and a familiar urge to get into the garden. I want to dig. Alas, March is too soon to be out, no matter the air temperature. You’ll do more harm than good in that cold and still slumbering soil.

Some gardeners feed that need by nursing seedlings and have been at it for weeks. While I thoroughly encourage the endeavour, limits to time, space, and attention affect how much each of us can grow. March can leave us feeling a bit lost and left behind. What are we to do with our fingers itching for the dirt and noses twitching for the smell of earth and water?

I look again, to my windowsills, scanning my ledges for those plants in need of repotting. The pining or wilting, the ones practically climbing out of their pots. Or the cuttings by my kitchen window that have been rooting in water all winter. These are the first. And this is the beginning of the season for me. I start small, and ease into, stretch out, my favourite time of the year. Larger specimens I leave for later, when the outdoors is an option and the mess matters less.

This year I have a very divergent group that needs my attention; a sansevieria cylindrica (African Spear) which wants fast draining but rich soil, a ficus benjamina (Fig tree), and offshoots of pilea peperomiodes (Money plant), both of which need moister soil. Whatever the mix of plants is, there are a few basic rules that generally apply and make a good starting point if you are new to the game. As with most things in life, there are exceptions and good research is always recommended.

Plants should generally be given a new and larger pot when the roots have filled their container. Young plants and fast growers usually require an annual repotting but as they mature, can live in their quarters for two to five years before needing another move. You will eventually be restricted by pot size. All containers, whatever they are made of, should have drainage holes to allow excess water to escape and be only one size larger than the old one. Too big and roots cannot use up all the water they are sitting in before rotting. Potting soil that is lightweight, sterile and contains a slow-release fertilizer will be suitable for most plants. There are a few; orchids, cacti, and succulents, that prefer a specialty mix of soil which are also readily available. Plastic sheets on tables and floors help protect surfaces and make cleanup a breeze. The actual trick of repotting is easy; fill your new pot ¼ of the way with new soil, remove the plant from the old pot. If the roots are twining in a circle, gently tease them apart. Place the plant in the new pot ensuring that the crown or stem sits at the same soil level as it did in the old pot. Add more soil around the root ball, gently compacting it with your fingers as you fill it. Water thoroughly to remove air pockets and add soil to any pockets revealed. Put them in some light and leave them be for a week before you water again.

You can do as many as you like for as long as you have supplies. Over the years I have repotted the same plants many times and each time I’m amazed at their growth, at their continued beauty and I’m always grateful that I was able to be a part of it. It’s a good way to scratch that itch in March, enough of a start until true spring arrives.

For more answers to these and other burning questions, join the Tillsonburg Horticultural Society on March 5th for their monthly general meeting featuring the “March Plant Madness and the Panel of Knowledge”

Meeting begins at 7:30pm, all welcome. Membership 20/year or $4/ meeting.