My plan to produce regular newsletters really fizzled last summer, so this letter is one part catch-up, one part well wishes and gratitude, and one part looking ahead to the fresh season. Happy Lunar New Year (Tiger!), Imbolc (Celtic turning point in early spring), Groundhog's day (no shadow here), and Black History Month. We also celebrated 02.02.22 yesterday by wearing two tutus. Lots to celebrate! And lots to be thankful for (always). Most of all thank YOU for staying in touch and being a part of my community.
So here we are with the coldest, darkest month behind us already. This is the time of year when my sister and I chose the name of our little company 12 years ago, and with an entire kingdom of beautiful blooms and plants to choose from, I sometimes forget why we went with Hazel. BUT THIS IS WHY! It blooms in January/February, when witch hazel and Hellebores are the only other blooms around. You’ll notice these elegant, pale yellow tassels standing out among the grey twigs along roadsides. The catkins are the male, pollen-laden part and the female parts are tiny red stars. Once the blooms are done it fades into the background with its slightly ragged, fuzzy leaves and pale green nuts encased in a lovely frilly husk. Our native beaked hazel (Corylus cornuta) often forms a graceful thicket but can pop up in odd places where squirrels have forgotten a nut. The only specimens on our property are growing up through a Rhododendron and out from under the back porch, and will never really be allowed to live their best lives.
This is also the time for seed schedules, crop planning, a little Valentine’s Day love, event bookings, and garden consultations. All my seed sourcing is done and I have listed my own homegrown **seeds for sale in my shop**. Sweet peas, foxgloves, yarrow, Icelandic poppies, Anemones and Ranunculus are planted in small soil blocks, seedling trays or in-ground in the hoop house. There are trays of young perennials from last year that will either be planted or sold at a plant sale this April. The thousands of tulip, daffodil, Fritillaria, Allium and grape hyacinth bulbs that I planted in November are starting to make an appearance as well -- it really does make my heart flutter.

As much as I’m cheering on the tiniest little hints of spring, I really appreciate the slow pace of the season here in the Pacific Northwest. There is plenty of time to notice the progress. The Celtic tradition of Imbolc or Saint Brigid’s Day, celebrates the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, when lambing and preparation for seeding would have begun. Northern people may need a festival to cheer themselves along toward longer days, but the plants just feel it: nettles are sprouting, sword fern fiddle heads are formed, and there is new growth at the base of many wild and garden plants. I found the bright pink, succulent shoots of salmon berry today, which were a prized native food here.

A propos: I just learned some good new words I’ll share with you: pleuviophile - someone who finds peace of mind or joy in rainy weather; and the Persephone period - the time of year when there is less than 10 hours of sunlight. Once we reach that threshold the plants will kick back into gear. It’s around February 9th — coming right up!

And while we are still barely in the dormant period, there are a few garden tasks to attend to:

Mulch! I mentioned this in my last newsletter on the other side of the year in July, when it was so dry and hot that we were protecting roots and soil from overheating and drying out. Please resist the urge to clear the cozy blanket of mulch or leaf debris when you see the first daffodil tips. Now we need mulch to insulate roots from the cold and protect the soil from erosion, nutrient loss and compaction from the rain. We’ve already gone through the coldest weather but we certainly aren’t out of the rainy period. Leaf mulch, wood chips, dead clippings, straw and burlap can work. Compost isn’t a good idea because the nutrients (especially nitrogen) will just get washed out and can actually cause problems for aquatic life. I’m experimenting with plastic over the part of my garden where I left dahlia bulbs in, to keep the soil warm-ish and dry-ish, but my preference is rotted arborist chips or leaf mulch. Heavier mulch like chips shouldn’t be right up against trunks or the bases of plants, or it can cause rot. I did an emergency layer of straw when the temps dipped way below freezing, and I’ll probably be rewarded with the extra task of pulling stray oat grasses but almost everything seems to have pulled through OK. Almost.

Which brings me to the next point: Pruning! Don’t prune quiiiite yet as there’s still plenty of time and it’s best to avoid making fresh cuts in freezing rain when plants may be vulnerable to molds and cold damage. Most importantly, plants that look like casualties of the cold snap may sprout new leaves when it gets warmer and brighter, so don’t cut off what looks dead, even if your shrub has never looked this bad! I’ve checked all my dead-looking shrubs and the twigs are green when I scrape the bark. Buds that were already set may even have frozen off but unless the roots were frozen beyond return, your plant will start fresh when it feels safe to do so.

When I left off writing last summer it was in the glorious midst of some wonderful family visits that took us to mountains and islands with stops at many fine picnicking nooks in between. We avoided the smoke, ate oysters, swam and found the most beautiful black-and-white pebble beach. I threw my back out in August and once I could bear to sit at the computer, I edited and designed a book of garden notes that my mom wrote the year before, called Once Around the Sun (by Bliss White McIntosh). You can order it at your local bookstore or online; it is print-on-demand, so don't be put off if it says "back ordered". Stay tuned for a blog format for her ongoing garden notes -- and you can sign up to get them in an e-mail each week if you like.

Any useful garden reflections of my own got piled up in my mind and entangled with my mom's growing notes until I shrugged it all off and just turned toward the holidays. Tidbits may resurface this year -- for example, I plan to dedicate an entire letter to deer resistant plantings, reporting from my own front yard laboratory. But I gave in to fatigue, did my physical therapy (there's another post brewing about body mechanics for gardeners!), and enjoyed the snow. With zero plans, it was an incredible gift to have the leisure of an entire week of snowy neighborhood play, perfectly timed with school vacation. And that was the last of 2021!

hazel in bloom

blooms + maintenance

Pencil Brook