Last week I was wondering what I would find when I returned to Glen Villa, my garden in rural Quebec. Would the snowdrops be gone, the crocus out in full force? Would I even find a daffodil or two?
The quick answer is, no. Six weeks in warmer climes made me forget that this is only the end of March. And in Quebec, that means that spring has yet to arrive.
So what I found was a lake still mostly frozen, with a skim of water in some places on top of the ice.
I found far more snow than I wanted to see.
I found below freezing-temperatures at night and bright, sunny days. This means that the sap is running strong. In fact, to my surprise, we arrived home in the midst of maple syrup making season, not at the end.
Thankfully, a few snowdrops are blooming, helping me believe that spring really is just around the corner. And yesterday, when temperatures rose to the mid teens celsius (mid 60s fahrenheit), I even began to believe that summer would follow.
On a sunny hillside, some snowdrops I planted two years ago made an appearance. I know I planted more than one or two, but they are growing near Tree Rings, and the ground there was disturbed when the sculpture was installed. Maybe next year more will re-appear. Or maybe I’ll add more, come fall.
There is no sign yet of crocus, although with warm temperatures predicted to continue, there’s a good chance I’ll be seeing them soon. Daffodils are a long way away but the pussy willow in the fields is soft to the touch.
As much as I enjoyed our weeks in South Carolina, it’s wonderful to be home again. I spent a long afternoon yesterday starting seeds in our small greenhouse.
It’s been a few years since I planted any perennials, but this year I ordered lots, knowing I’d need a truckload of plants for the gradual transformation of the Big Lawn into the Big Meadow. I had forgotten how much work is involved in starting seeds — finding and cleaning the seed trays and pots, mixing the potting soil, filling the pots, watering and labelling.
I’ve been ‘naturalizing’ the Upper Field for a few years now, mowing it only once towards the end of summer. I’m happy with the plants that have self-seeded but to enrich the colour and plant diversity I’m adding perennials that ‘feel’ right in the setting, that I think will thrive. If they do, I’ll have plants galore to provide more seeds — or to transplant onto the Big Lawn as it begins to change into an informal meadow with mown paths.
I chose seeds that are easy germinators. If they live up to their billing, I’ll have hours and hours of work a few months from now, pricking out seedlings and potting them up until they are big enough to plant out. The last time I did this, my parents were visiting me at Glen Villa. Both have died in the years between, so I will think of them as I give these new plants a chance to grow. The symbolism makes me feel good.
How is your garden growing? Do you start plants from seed? Any tricks you’d like to share?
Birch trees outside my window have leaves and magnolia still looking good!
Since spring has begun earlier than usual almost everywhere, I don’t blame you for hoping it would be further along in Quebec. My garden is further along than yours, but even still I keep wondering why it’s taking so long–and then I have to remind myself it’s still March!
It’s discouraging — but it is meant to be warm this week. I’ll be interested to see how much difference a week makes… which may be the subject of my next post!
Yesterday, we had heavy rain and temperatures just above freezing — it felt more like November than April. But today, when the sun came out, I went out and walked around my garden and found flower buds on crocus, hyacinths, and daffodils. Soon!
It is coming, Jean, I agree. Warm weather predicted for the week ahead so I’m feeling optimistic.
I start a lot of plants from seed but don’t want to do too much pricking out. Instead, I sow them thinly in large plastic drink cups that give them plenty of room for root growth so I don’t have to bother them until it’s time to transplant them into the garden.
I like your idea but so many of the seeds I planted this year are VERY tiny — almost impossible to scatter them evenly.