Winter Supporting Cast

A frosted brown leaf in the garden

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When frost is here, the stars of the garden are the seed heads. Their shapes become sculptural and exciting as they are made sparkly with frozen icy crystals. They’re the first thing I look for in winter photography, and a very satisfying subject for an appealing image.

But there aren’t a huge number of seed heads, and, of course, they are vastly outnumbered by the remaining leaves. Fortunately these leaves can often be very attractive with a sprinkling of frost and give their own photographic possibilities.

A frosted geranium leaf
Frost accentuates the edges of a geranium leaf.

The leaf in the top photo is a Japanese anemone. These can take on interesting curvy shapes as they dry out and the brown colouring adds a bit of extra interest. There are usually lots of these leaves in the garden, but this year I have noticed that there are fewer. Perhaps the increasingly hot and dry summers have made these anemone clumps less inclined to spread and be thuggish. Although they can make themselves a nuisance, I will be sad if I lose the pretty show of flowers that they give in late summer and early autumn. It seems that climate change may be changing the nature of my garden.

The picture immediately above shows a hardy geranium. These are plants that are good-looking in both leaf and flower, so I’ve been happy to find space for several of these in the garden. The way the frost outlines the deeply indented edges of the leaves emphasises their shape and creates an image that is both pleasing to see and inviting to photograph.

Frosted fennel leaves
Fennel leaves are gracefully lacy under a heavy coating of frost.

While the first two photographs were taken in this winter’s light frosts, the remaining two were taken in years when the frost was much heavier. A dense coating of frost crystals has given the feathery foliage of a bronze fennel the appearance of lace. (Normally the fennel leaves would be gone by the time there was much frost, but that year the frost arrived earlier.)

Below, frost on the leaves of Euphorbia mellifera will quickly melt in the strong sunshine of a bright winter morning. Despite looking more robust than the delicate fennel leaves, this euphorbia is less hardy and would probably be best given winter protection in areas colder than ours. Luckily for many of our plants, we don’t usually get very cold temperatures for long. As a gardener, I have reason to be very grateful that this winter has been fairly mild so far, even if that means fewer opportunities for winter photography. ❄

Frosted leaves of Euphorbia mellifera
Frost on the leaves of Euphorbia mellifera will soon melt in the sunshine.

What Remains

A frosted skeleton of a hydrangea flower

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My garden is full of the leftovers of summer and autumn. Clumps of curled and dried-out leaves, seed heads (many now empty of their cargo of seeds) and, here and there, the tattered remnants of flowers, all create an untidy patchwork. But that untidiness is a protection to the life lurking within: insects are hibernating in it and, below, the soil and the creatures that inhabit it are protected from the effect of heavy winter rains.

Everything is going through the long wait for spring. I won’t tidy up the dead growth until all the little lives it shelters are active again. By then there will be new leaves beginning to push up through the soil and the first spring bulbs will be in flower.

Meanwhile the frost makes patterns on the remains of last year’s plants. Old leaves are finely edged in white and the ghosts of past flowers appear to be encrusted with tiny white seed beads. (Above: a tiny skeletonised flower of a hydrangea has become encased in a coating of icy frost. Below: tiny bead-like frost crystals decorate what’s left of a clump of aster daisies.) The seemingly insignificant oddments of the garden year are enough for the frost to create its ephemeral magic. ❄

The frosted remains of aster flowers
The frosted remains of aster flowers

Feeling Wintry

A frost-coated seed head of agapanthus

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Winter has asserted itself forcefully over most of the UK. In the last week or so, heavy snow and a damaging storm caused problems over other areas of the country. Here we have been more fortunate and have pretty much escaped both. Our light sprinkling of snow has now melted away, to be replaced by heavy rain and the promise of sleet.

Even the frosts of the previous days had little impact here. Although the ground was completely frozen, the frost itself affected only the grass and low-lying leaves, with none appearing on the upper parts of plants. So there was little of interest to photograph, which is unusual for frosty mornings here. However, that did allow me to stay indoors and keep warm rather than trying to navigate the slippery paths and ground outside. The time wasn’t wasted because I spent it catching up with processing a few older winter photographs.

The pictures here show seed heads photographed in winters when we’ve had a bit more frost. I usually leave some seed heads standing, hoping that they will become covered in icy crystals and provide me with something to photograph. (I don’t tidy up much in the autumn anyway, because I know that there will be many ladybirds, and possibly other insects, hibernating in the undergrowth.)

The top photo shows the seed head of a hardy agapanthus which is able to survive outside in a garden border, rather than having to be kept in a pot and overwintered in a greenhouse. It is one of my favourite seed heads to photograph. The seed head below is betony (Betonica officinalis), which I was lucky enough to be able to photograph before it had completely dried out and lost its colour. (We must have had an early frost that year.)❄

A frosted seed head in the garden

Possibilities…

White cosmos flower with a pink-blushed centre.

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It’s too cold at the moment to spend much time out in the garden. That means I’m taking it easy indoors, looking through last summer’s photos. Seeing images of plants from other people’s gardens gives me ideas for my own.

Seeing this pretty cosmos makes me realise how much I missed having them in my own garden last year. I love the way the delicate flowers float above the feathery leaves and the fact that they can last right up until the first frosts here. These lovely annuals bring a bit of variety to my garden and fit in well with the other permanent plants.

Growing annuals from seed may prove difficult this year, though, because I’m likely to be away from home at times during the spring…perhaps I will have to look out for some plug plants. Deciding when to take time away from home is tricky if you’re a gardener and have seedlings and potted plants to care for. Luckily there is still plenty of time for making decisions! 🌼

Happy New Year!

frosted philadelphus leaves

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January is the time when it gets cold here. The temperature drops around the time of the New Year and we may get frosts. That’s a good time for me to get out in the garden with my camera, especially if there’s a bit of sunshine to add sparkle to those frozen crystals.

There can be a certain freshness to these days…times when the sun shines and it is cold, clear, and bright. It’s the time when the year does feel new and ready for plans for the spring and summer to come. (Gardeners are always looking ahead.) It’s a time for hope and possibilities, and I hope that whatever you plan for the coming year will bring good results. I wish you a very happy New Year!

Merry Christmas Wishes

frosted honesty seed pods

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It feels as if Christmas has sneaked up on me quietly this year. That’s partly because the unusually mild weather has kept me busy in the garden, where it still feels like late autumn rather than the early days of winter. It’s easy to lose track of ‘calendar time’ when you’re immersed in the rhythms of the natural world.

But here it is, suddenly, Christmas in all its twinkling lights and glitzy decorations (which, by being not much of a shopper, I have largely missed ’til now). Our Christmases here are peaceful and easygoing – we’ve always taken a no-stress approach to this time of year. I hope that Christmas is a relaxed and happy time for you too and that, however you choose to spend it, it’s a time of good cheer and contentment. Merry Christmas! 🎄

Winter Bee-Feast

mahonia flowers with melted frost

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As I’ve been working in the garden in recent days, I’ve noticed that there are still a few buff-tailed bumblebees around. They’ve been attracted to the yellow flowers of our mahonia, which is a great source of nectar and pollen during late autumn and winter.

While most bumblebee colonies die off for the winter, with just the mated queens hibernating and then starting new colonies in spring, the buff-tails (Bombus terrestris) can stay active. 30 years or so ago, buff-tailed queens would have hibernated too, but in more recent times both queens and workers may be seen flying in winter. It seems that this is the result of winters becoming milder, especially in southern areas of the UK.

There are not many sources of nectar for winter-active bumblebees, so the mahonia, which is a large shrub and well-covered with flowers, has become a valued feature of our garden. (By the time the mahonia has finished flowering, there will be some hellebores and later on there is the plum blossom. We do, however, want to increase the available food for bumblebees over winter.)

As you can see from the photographs, the mahonia flowers don’t mind a bit of frost or snow. Ours has the sunniest spot in the garden, so bees can enjoy the warmth of any sunshine right from early morning until sunset. The shrub was already here (and mature) when we came to this house, so I can’t be sure of the cultivar, but it does look like the very popular Mahonia x media ‘Charity’. I’m certainly very glad that a previous owner did plant it and I should think that the bumblebees are too! 🐝

mahonia flowers with melting snow

Snow melting from mahonia flowers doesn’t seem to cause them much damage.

Varied Variegations

Variegated leaves of Arum italicum 'Pictum'

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At a time when there are fewer flowers around, you notice the leaves more. Coloured or variegated leaves can give longer-lasting interest to the garden than the shorter lives of most flowers. The occasional plant with variegated leaves can be a particularly striking and effective way to liven up an area of plain green foliage.

In my own garden, I have the silver and green variegated leaves of a brunnera alongside the green of a fern and some hellebores. Further along the same border is a pulmonaria, whose slightly more subtle markings echo the brunnera’s colouring without competing for attention. In summer, a climbing hydrangea brings its lacy white flowers to the mix to further enliven this quiet green corner of our garden. (You can see the brunnera and pulmonaria in previous posts.)

The two sets of variegated leaves here (photographed at Fullers Mill Garden) are very different to each other: one smooth and slightly shiny, the other deeply indented with many sharp-looking prickles. The plant in the top photo is Arum italicum (Italian arum), with very attractive markings of the palest creamy yellow. Below, you can see the spiny leaves of a Galactites (milk thistle), whose purple or white flowers will be a magnet for pollinators in summer.

I could be tempted by either of these plants, although I find that the plain green Arum maculatum that is native in the UK can be a terrible nuisance. It gets everywhere if it gets the slightest chance! So perhaps this arum would get out of hand too. The milk thistle might be a safer bet. It’s an annual or biennial, and, although it will self-seed in good conditions, it is easier to pull out. The only problem might be that I would need some robust gloves to protect my hands from all those spines! Seeing these two plants has made me feel that I should see if there’s room for one or two more variegated plants in my own garden.

Green prickly leaves with white variegation

A Chilly Glimpse of Winter

A frosted rose

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We had our first glimpse of winter this week, with a frost over most of the garden. There had been a dusting of frost over house rooftops and cars before that, but this was the first real cold of the year.

I’m always hoping that there will still be a few flowers around when the frosts arrive. There’s often a few lingering roses and, when frosted, these make likely subjects for a wintry photograph. The rose here is ‘Rhapsody in Blue’, although these flowers look more magenta than the usual dark purple. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s due to the effects of early morning light, or it might be because the petals are frozen. Whatever the reason, they look much lighter than they usually do. (However, you can see a slight trace of the darker colour on some of the petals in the photo below.)

At the start of winter there are not many flowers remaining in the garden. At the moment there are these roses, a couple of flowering shrubs, and here and there a flower or two still clinging onto the smaller plants. At the sunnier end of the garden, the few bumblebees that are still active are making good use of the yellow flowers of the mahonia bush. Nearer the house, the scented pink flowers of Viburnum bodnantense ‘Dawn’ should be with us right through until early spring.

Photography in the garden can be very limited at this time of year, so if there’s a frosty morning I like to make the most of it and get outside before it melts. While the gardener in me worries about the effects of frost on plants that aren’t entirely hardy, my creative side is delighted to find something to photograph. I often have mixed feelings when things turn icy! ❄

Frosted roses and buds
Only a slight trace of the usual dark purple is visible on the petals of this frosted flower of ‘Rhapsody in Blue’.

After the Flowers…

Glycyrrhiza (liquorice) seed heads

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After the flowers have gone, then come a variety of interesting seed heads. Some are familiar and I come across them every year. Others are less common, like the liquorice plant (Glycyrrhiza) above, photographed on a recent visit to Fullers Mill.

Liquorice is a plant I’d never seen before and the spiky seed heads were what drew my attention. They would be lovely coated with tiny frost crystals, like little Christmas decorations. I didn’t touch one, but they look as if the tips of their individual pods could be sharp…not the most friendly thing to brush up against!

cardoon seed heads
Cardoon seed heads are releasing the first of their hairy seeds.

The seed heads of the cardoons (Cynara cardunculus), shown above, would be much nicer to get close to. These, however, were too tall for me to get near enough to reach the fluffy seeds. I would have liked to have been able to touch the hairs on the seeds, just to see if they’re as soft as they look. The first seeds were already making their escape last month, so I think that recent wind and rain will by now have carried many of them away.

Hairy seed heads are produced by other plants too, like the silvery plumes of Clematis tangutica (below, left). This plant was photographed at the end of summer and the single ‘tails’ attached to each individual seed were still smooth and shiny. Later, those tails become more feathery as they develop and the individual hairs on them grow and open out. That helps the attached seed to blow away in the wind. (It’s in a garden I visited, so I haven’t seen it recently, but I should think that those seed heads are very fluffy indeed by now, or perhaps have dispersed or become bedraggled in the autumn rain.)

Left: A clematis flower and seed head
Right: Catananche seed heads
Left: A seed head of Clematis tangutica gleams in the sun.
Right: Catananche seed heads have a subtle shine.

Another seed head with a slight shine is the Catananche caerulea (Cupid’s dart), shown above, on the right. The seeds are light and papery, clustered in airy heads that have a silvery look on a sunny day. This one is in my own garden and I love it for its long-lasting good looks, both in flower and seed.

Wild carrot (Daucus carota ‘Dara’) also grows in my garden. It’s allowed to seed itself around so that I have plenty of the nest-like seed heads to photograph. I’m having to be a bit stricter with it these days, because it can get everywhere. Now I just sprinkle the seeds in areas where there’s a bit of room for its waywardness. The lacy flower heads of wild carrot are pretty, but to my mind, this plant is at its best when in bud and later, when the seed heads appear. Both stages display the intricate architecture and grace of the plant at its most beautiful. When possible, I try to keep the seed heads, so that they (and the seed heads of other plants) will be here when the frost comes…not long to wait now!

Daucus carota (wild carrot) seed head
Tiny spiky seeds of wild carrot curve inward on a seed head that develops a nest-like appearance.