By Sue Healey, Tillsonburg Horticultural Society

In the hush of January, after all the jangle of the holidays is done, I like to sift through my garden memories of the year just past. I take this quiet and bare time of the year to reflect on the seasons gone by and remember their glory. Every year in the garden is different. There are successes and failures, newlyfound treasures or old loves rediscovered. 2024 had all of that and more. And throughout the year, there were plants that regardless of what the months brought, flourished beyond all expectation. Through attention, weather, or just circumstance there were a variety of trees, and shrubs, perennials, and annuals that made 2024 a fabulous garden year.

Early heat brought the first stars of the year. Flowering bulbs in general and daffodils in particular put on a display inSouthwestern Ontario that surpassed all in my memory. Daffodils, tulips, hyacinths, and a myriad of others seemed to sprout in every yard through out the area. Rural ditches were splashed with the yellow of naturalized daffodils and the blue scilla. The hot, dry summer of 2023 gave most spring flowering bulbs the baking conditions they need to produce masses of blooms the following year. My show began in the still frosty days of March, with Iris reticulata nosing their way through the blanket of leaves. Their crowded spears opening to sear my eyes with fluted petals of magenta, sky blue and yellow. The daffodils were just as thick and only a few moments behind the little iris. Early, fragrant jonquils, sturdy King Alfreds in true daffodil yellow, bouquets of nameless nodding trumpets skirted in lemon, all multiplied. Each besting the late season sleet until finally, chalky white, poet’s narcissus closed out my daffodil show and the month of May. Tulips, both hybrid and species sprouted in places I’d thought them lost and doubled in those I knew. Through it all hyacinths bloomed feeding those early bees and flooding the garden with blue.

Summer brought mountain ranges of hydrangeas – their huge heads packed with blossoms in every shade of creamy green, pearly white or speckled pink. Whether it was mopheads or oakleaf, paniculata or lace-cap, the early and frequent rainsnourished this deciduous shrub into outlandish size and flowering. My Annabelles (Hydrangea arborescens) tumbled over themselves in their rush for the largest blooms. Throughout the summer, the stems toppled in waves, the rains bowing the plate sized heads till they lay on the grass, making room for a second crop of creamy white pom poms to be brought down in their turn. Blooming in late summer, the panicle hydrangea (H.paniculata) requires less moisture than the most of it’s genus, but they too benefited from the extra moisture the summer provided. My specimens of “Strawberry Sundae” and “Limelight” were covered in dozens of cone shaped flowerheads, some as large as my forearm. Sturdy and denselypacked, they last throughout the fall and winter providing shelter for any number of small creatures. Only the last of the March winds will pry the dried panicles loose. The individual florets scattering across the yard like confetti – a sure sign of spring. The last of the hydrangeas to bloom and my favourite of all, is oakleaf hydrangea (H. quercifolia). A shrub I would grow if it had no blooms at all, the leaves are that impressive. A 4-6 feet, deciduous shrub with large leathery leaves, that are, as the common name implies, oak leaf shaped. During summer, leaves are deep green to almost eggplant – handsome enough paired with creamy white flowers. Autumn, however, is the season in which this shrub shines. With the coming of cooler temperatures, the leaves deepen in colour, blazing in shades of red, plum, and yellow. They remain well into winter, each one like a gloved hand curled to catch the snow. When the leaves do finally fall, the peeling, tawny bark is revealed adding texture and colour during the winter season. Pruning should be done in early spring to maintain size before growth begins. Shrubs do well in full to part sun with the best colouring in full sun. 

And alas, I have room for only three stars of 2024, the first two having so many relations worth praising.

If I could only add one more for 2024, I would then choose the plant that has captivated me for the last few months and seems to have withstood all that the unpredictable weather has thrown at it. Miscanthus “Morning Light” (Miscanthus sinensis) a grass to lose your heart to. I have Morning Light growing outside my home office window and have watched her all through this year as she swayed in the wind, catching the light in every thin blade. Ornamental grasses often have bad reputations (many with good reason), but Miscanthus has never been a problem here. A warm season grass, growth begins in mid spring and flowering from mid to late September. Neither invasive or hard to divide, this clump forming grass is fountain shaped when full grown and thrives in poor soil with full sun. Thin white edged ribbons cascade in a fountain through each season with only the briefest of gaps in April, when I cut down the dried stalks and before the new blades emerge. While other grasses will collapse or splay in the wind and weather, Morning Light is blithely untouched by rain or snow. Her limbs move with the wind, plumes tossed about like braids undone, their crimped locks still glossy at the end of October. In the heart of winter, the tiny hairs surrounding each seed head will fluff and feather catching the snow like a mane of fur. Best situated where the sun can shine through the stalks, better still, a place where you can see it well and often.

There were other stars of the year, but they will have to wait for another grey day when distraction needed. A whole new list of distractions also awaits you at your local horticultural society, with full schedule of interesting topics and excellent presentations. Join us on Tuesday, January 7th, 2025, for our featured speaker:  Sean James, “Incorporating Edibles Into a Traditional Landscape.”

Tillsonburg Senior Centre

7:30 pm 

$20/ year $5/meeting

Come as guest, stay as a member.

📷Sue

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