Resilience found in winter
First came the freezing rain, coating the garden with a thick, long-lasting layer of ice. It looked beautiful, but ice can weigh down and break even the most flexible tree branches and grasses.
Deep snow followed the ice, sticking to the plants like heavy fondant icing and weighing them down. Our circle of ornamental grasses bowed gracefully under the weight of the ice and snow, taking on the form of clipped boxwood domes.
During a winter storm, perennial grasses such as miscanthus become saturated with snow and are weighed down, but they quickly right themselves when the storm subsides. This year’s combination of ice, deep snow and extreme cold dealt a heavy blow, perhaps more than the grasses and evergreen bamboo in our garden could recover from.
A snap of unseasonably warm weather quickly melted the snow and I was dreading the thought of seeing a tangle of collapsed grasses for the rest of winter. Rather than disappoint, the grasses slowly righted themselves and stood tall again — I couldn’t help but admire their tenacity and resilience.
The thought of the garden teaching me about resilience haunted my mind for the next few days. I looked up the word. Resilience: the ability to recover quickly from difficulties; toughness; elasticity. My circle of Morning Light grass had definitely demonstrated these qualities. I wondered what other lessons the winter garden could offer.
I slung my camera over my shoulder, bundled up in warm gear, and headed out to Niagara Parks Botanical Garden early Saturday morning. A layer of fresh snow blanketed the park, it was deliciously quiet and serene — the paths were pristine, save the solitary trail of a deer crossing through the garden. The fresh snow sparkled like glitter in the sunshine, ice droplets clung to the tips of select branches, reminding me of tiny crystals.
In the sheltered parterre garden, snow outlined the neatly clipped boxwood hedges, crisp and clean as white icing on petit-four cakes. The morning sun highlighted the brown and copper colour palette of the substantial hedges and the hornbeam allee. This space teaches a lesson on the importance of strong design and the value of plants with winter interest.
I ventured in to the Legacy Garden, where golden grasses and chocolate brown seed heads seem to dance above the snow cover. The meadow had a soft, relaxed feel. I arrived just as the sun stretched through the trees along the edge of the garden, spotlighting the path. Shining through the dried stems and seed heads of the meadow, the sun created delightful patterns on the smooth, snowcovered path. The shadows took the forms of summer flowers and stems — a winter silhouette garden that would last for a moment or two and then dissolve as the sun rose in the sky.
Seed heads are worthy of a little recognition, they hold their shape defying the cold, ice, rain and wind. Standing above the snow, they offer a valuable source of food for the local birds. Echinacea, coneflowers, asters, coreopsis, false sunflower and sedum all earn their keep in the winter garden.
Sedum, in its many forms, is particularly hardy. Sedum Angelina, a succulent, drought-tolerant ground cover throughout the growing season, stands like a forest of miniature fir branches in the winter garden — a refreshing patch of green and amber that is remarkably sturdy.
Border sedum, like Matrona and Autumn Fire, die back to the ground in the winter, but their sturdy, chocolate-brown stems and broccoli-like flower heads stand above the snow. Useful as seed source for birds, combined with grasses they offer shelter for birds and small mammals; topped with heavy dollops of snow, they refuse to fall over. Hardy rosettes of succulent leaves appear in the early spring, a reliable ground cover beneath a planting of tulips.
A row of stalwart astilbes lined the path in the butterfly garden. Like a row of miniature conifers, upright and rusty brown, they seemed oblivious to the snow. Their delicate, lacy summer garb is all but forgotten as they adapt to the winter conditions. Plants have adapted to withstand the cold weather.
Welcoming visitors to the garden, a meadow-like patch of grass near the entrance glows in the morning light. Perhaps because of the openness of this area, drifts of snow have gathered around the base of the individual plants. It’s as if they have pulled up the covers to keep their feet warm for winter. The symmetrical snow cones create a strong pattern that carries through the whole planting.
Snow can be the friend of the garden. It is a good insulator, offering protection from extreme temperatures and wind. Like a fluffy down-filled quilt, a blanket of snow traps pockets of air that hold in the heat.
Take a walk in the winter garden, slow down, listen, observe. Be encouraged by the garden’s serenity, beauty and resilience.
— Theresa Forte is a local garden writer, photographer and speaker. You can reach her by calling 905-351-7540 or by email at theresa_forte@sympatico.ca.