Blossoms in the snow

01/29/2004
Blossoms in the snow

Flowers in January? No, I'm not wishfully hallucinating. Unless you live in one of the very coldest parts of the country, you too can have the uncanny delight of seeing fragile blossoms in frigid weather--the most poignant reminder of all that Nature hasn't forsaken you, the gardener.

Amazingly enough, more than a handful of plants bloom in winter. Most of these are shrubs, which is hardly surprising, given that the juicy growth of herbaceous perennials is more prone to freezing than woody twigs. Once a thaw comes in the colder zones, or the winter sun emerges on its long, slow climb northward, the flower buds on these buds burst open, releasing their miraculous contents.

The blossoms of most winter-blooming shrubs possess some of the most piercingly sweet perfumes in the plant kingdom. I'm sure this is to attract pollinating insects, which are few and far between--and moving very sluggishly--in winter's cold weather. The improbable presence of perfume in the middle of winter only adds to the exotic, intoxicating quality of winter blooming plants, of which winter honeysuckle (Lonicera fragrantissima, right) is but one. This rangey shrub is nondescript at other times of the year, but come January and February, you will cherish it for its sweetly scented diminuitive white blooms. Plant this large shrub in full sun to light shade, and give it room to grow.

Oregon grapeholly (Mahonia aquifolium) is another wonderfully fragrant bloomer. This evergreen shrub has bold, pinnate foliage whose leaflets resemble holly leaves. In late winter, it bears big spikes of bright lemon yellow flowers that smell wonderfully of honey. Hardy as far north as USDA Zone 5b, mahonia must be protected from winter winds and sun, which will cause its foliage to burn.

Probably my favorite winter-blooming shrub is hybrid witchhazel (Hamamelis x intermedia, above and below), an open, vase-shaped large shrub with scalloped leaves that turn warm shades of yellow and orange in autumn. But the plant's moment of glory is in winter, when its flowerbuds crack open to release starry blossoms of strap-like petals and an intoxicating fragrance that is unlike any other, and very hard to describe. For me, it is reminiscent of fresh laundry that's been dried outdoors. Witchhazel flowers have a special survival trick: when the weather turns extremely cold, their petals curl up; then when it warms again, they unfurl like those buzzing party favors that kids love. Plant this stellar shrub in full sun to very light shade, in slightly acid soil. The cultivar in the photo is 'Jelena.'

Not surprisingly, other members of the witchhazel family show a similar bent toward winter blooming. Parrotia persica (below) is a regal tree with a naturally narrow, vase-like shape. It is one of the most spectacular trees for fall foliage color, and it's next best season is late winter, when it is covered with tiny, deep red blossoms that, while decidely less showy than those of witchhazel, are still very pleasant to look at.

A walk or drive through almost any part of the northern half of France right now is bound to turn up lots of common hazelnut (Corylus avellana). You can't miss them at this time of year because they're spangled ed with thousands of gracile, chartreuse catkins (below). These make splendid arrangements, but beware the showers of pollen they will drop when brought into a warm room.

Of course, it should come as no surprise that the farther south you live, the wider your choice of winter bloomers. If you live, say in the Washington D.C. area, you can enjoy a cascade of winter jasmine (Jasminum nudiflorum, below) cascading over a wall or down a slope. With its thick network of lime-green twigs and starry, lemon yellow flowers, winter jasmine definitely adds a cheerful note to a gray winter's day. But paradoxically--especially for a jasmine--it has no fragrance.

Gardeners even farther south (USDA Zones 7b-9b) can enjoy such treasures as sweet box (Sarcococca ruscifolia, below). This naturally low-growing, compact shrub makes an excellent if low-key evergreen mass in a shady area. The surprise comes in late winter, when you'll notice an intoxicating fragrance winding its way all over your garden. If you're like me and don't know to expect it, it'll take you a while to figure out that this powerhouse perfume is coming from the inconspicuous, fringey little white flowers of sarcococca.

Also for these climates are the more exotic winter-blooming viburnums, such as Viburnum x bodnantense, which opens its small clusters of candy pink flowers (photo below) any time from late fall through early spring. They are sweetly and intensely fragrant.

Of course, the queen of winter-blooming shrubs is the camellia. Don't even attempt to grow this prima donna unless you live in a very mild, maritime sort of climate with harsh temperature extremes in summer or winter. This pink-blooming beauty was already in flower when I took a walk today (January 29) in Parc Monceau, the city park that is a block outside my door, and where, incidentally, I took all the above photos.

I can't leave an article on winter bloomers without at least mentioning hellebores once again. This queenly perennial is at its apogee of beauty in January through March, when it bears aloft regal clusters of waxy blossoms in shades of plum, rose, pink, white, and chartreuse. For us, hellebores reinitiate the ritual of cutflowers in the house. It is Denis' special delight to carefully choose some blossoms to float in a bowl of water, where they resemble small, ethereal waterlilies
for the week to come.

You see, even in winter, there's no reason for the garden not to be a source of flowers. Stay tuned, as next weekend I travel to Toulouse to report to you on the festival celebrating the most exotic winter bloomer of all: the Parma violet.

Products of Interest:

Hellebore pillow