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Homemaking: Beauties for all seasons
Saturday, February 10, 2001 By Kim Germovsek, Post-Gazette Staff Writer
Pergolas, trellises and brick paths, hemlocks, yews and spruces -- all play the much-needed supporting roles that allow our garden stars to shine.
These stalwarts provide structure and form and add to the play of light and shadows that make a garden beautiful in all seasons. Winter is a wonderful time of year to ponder these additions, since there's nothing to occupy the eager gardener except planning and catalogs and more planning. Last summer's indulgences and mistakes are forgotten; a blanket of snow wipes the slate clean.
Consider the long-term investment of a single well-placed, well-branched tree; clothed in snow, it can be as starkly beautiful as a meadow full of poppies in spring.
Corylus avellana 'Contorta,' commonly known as Harry Lauder's Walking Stick, is a good choice. A small tree or large, woody, multistemmed shrub, it's a bit coarse in leaf. But in winter, it drops these leathery accessories for a brazen display of its striking, naked branches that twist and spiral and nearly announce its presence as a piece of living sculpture. As an added bonus, the male form boasts pale yellow catkins that dangle from the contorted branches like waxen icicles that flutter with every breeze.
The Corkscrew willow is another tree that comes alive in the shortest months of the year. Salix Mastundana Tortusa is a fast-growing, seemingly innocuous tree that leafs out early and drops its leaves late. But in winter it flexes its gardening muscle by extending twisted, contorted branches that are prized by florists and interior designers alike.
The corkscrew is flexible in both branch and nature; it never minds pruning by those hungry for its branches, and it tolerates almost any soil. But it's happiest in wet, poorly drained, sloppy places. Place it in that problematic spot at the bottom of a slope, and it will gratefully enfold you in its twisty embrace for a lifetime. 'Scarlet Curls' is a lovely cultivar with a reddish tinge to its branches. If you find one, buy one for me, too, because its popularity makes it scarce in the nursery trade.
The winter landscape is enlivened by these contortionists of the shrub world, but don't overlook the value of the somber, dusky hues of yews, hemlocks, spruces and pines. In summer, they provide a pleasing backdrop for annuals and perennials -- as well as blocking out unpleasant views from the neighbor's yard. In winter, they are handsome against the snow and even against the mud. And not all of these evergreens are even green. If you can give Cryptomeria japonica 'Spiralis' a sheltered spot in partial shade, it will reward you with thin, twisty branches, its needles cloaked in lime green. Full sun tends to turn its branches a deep golden shade.
In either color, this tree combines well with the smoky purple shades of the Atlantic cedar. Chamaecyparis thyoides 'Heather Bun' is a smaller, rounder form, and Chamaecyparis t. 'Red Star' is columnar. Both are fully hardy, like partial shade and have needles that are soft, feathery and invite stroking.
I particularly like weeping conifers, especially when each of the drooping branches carries a light dusting of freshly fallen snow. Weeping spruces and hemlocks (Picea brewerana and Tsuga canadensis 'Pendula,' respectively) are both hardy in our area and have a charming Charlie Brown-Christmas-tree appeal. But these sorrowful beauties must be staked in their first few years of residency or else you'll have a weeping groundcover.
A handsome fence is a wise investment, providing both privacy and protection for some of the more fragile evergreens in our landscapes. But don't think that I heed my own advice. When I moved into my house, one of the first things I did was have a fence put up so that I could keep the dogs in the yard. Unfortunately, I had just spent all the money I had in the world on the house itself, and all I could afford was chain link fencing. How I wish I had waited until I could spend the money on a privacy fence, perhaps one with trellising at top, to provide the intimacy that all the best garden spaces can boast.
But one must make the best of a poor situation. I've started vines all up and down my fence. These dead vines capture snow and have provided an ephemeral sort of garland this winter. I've planted three or four clematis along the fence, with a few more on order for spring. I also have a lovely honeysuckle, Lonicera periclymenum 'Graham Thomas,' covering a partially shaded length. The vine is amazingly still green and, if I remember correctly, was covered in its pale yellow tubular flowers until November.
Polygunum aubertii, or silver lace vine, is a rambunctious fellow who, like a teen-ager, can suddenly double or triple its length in one summer. Mine came in at about 15 feet its first summer and was upward of 30 feet last autumn. It has plumy white flowers all along its length, rather Astilbe-like, and the dried seed heads also capture snow and melting ice in fanciful patterns.
To make room for these subtle beauties, a plant-crazed gardener would do well to rip out several clumps of prized lilies or roses. Easier said than done, I realize, but this is a decision that must be made now, for it would be much easier to carry out our noble plan while the dahlias and irises and chrysanthemums are looking the other way. I even plan on following this excellent advice myself. Or perhaps I'll wait another year until the roses fill in a bit ...
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