February is a busy month for gardeners. We’re out evaluating what we plan to do in the next year. We’re digging up plants to move them. We’re pruning and cleaning. The days become noticeably lighter and lighter as February progresses. And, a few warm days remind us that spring is just around the corner. Winter blooming shrubs like flowering quince, forsythia, winter hazel, camellia, and daphne brighten the longer, end-of-winter days. Tiny bulbs begin to appear – masses of crocus, smatterings of snowdrops, and tight, fragrant towers of hyacinth begin to pop up in otherwise bare beds. The draw to enter the garden, clearing away leaf duff to reveal these harbingers of spring, calls us out of our cozy winter homes, beckoning to our seasonal call to garden.

 

Adding to the gardening siren’s song are garden shows. Preparing for, attending, and working these garden shows is a regular part of my February schedule. This year, in addition to my regular attendance at the spectacular Northwest Flower and Garden Show, I traveled from coast-to-coast to attend and speak at the Maymont Garden Show, which is held in Richmond, Virginia. Both the Seattle Northwest show and the Richmond Maymont show began the third week of February this year, so it’s been a whirlwind ride over the last week!

 

It’s hard to believe but just a week prior to the day day I am writing this article, I attended the Northwest Flower & Garden Show Gala event. Here I had the opportunity to get up-close and personal with the gardens and their creators – with a glass of wine and a plate of delicious food in hand. The Gala is a fundraiser for the Seattle Arboretum, and its an annual opportunity for me to connect with my peers in the industry. Plus, I can see the gardens without all the crowds. This year I got close to some great gardens, seeing creative uses of stone and skis as fencing. Too, I became acquainted with unfamiliar plants like Begonia magnificum and a yellow-blooming pitcher plant.

 

The day following the gala, I returned to the show to work. I took a shift at this year’s WSNLA show garden, passing out locator guides and explaining elements of the garden to members of the public seeing the garden for the first time. WSNLA’s garden took several coveted awards including a gold medal, a Sunset Magazine award and the Founder’s Cup award. After my shift, I wandered through the show, purchasing a few saw replacement blades and a pair of shears for a friend. Then, I rushed home to finish packing for my flight the next day across country.

 

I arrived in Richmond late Thursday night, changing planes in Detroit where I was nearly sidetracked by ice-storm flight cancellations. Richmond itself was hit with a mild ice storm in the wee hours after my arrival. I awoke to a white, shimmering morning. I enjoyed family on Friday, marveling at the old deciduous forests filled with hawks, vultures, squirrels, yellow finches, red-headed woodpeckers, and my giggling niece and nephew. Friday night I felt a slight dryness in my throat. I went to bed hoping it was just allergies or being tired.

 

Saturday I woke up to a sore throat. Uh-oh. I caught something on my flight over. But, Saturday I had the honor of meeting Nori, “The Moss Lady”.  Nori has been gardening at her home for over 30 years, and she is well known as “the Moss Lady”. I was very inspired by her successful mission to remove all the grass in her garden, replacing it with rolling “lawns” of moss. She lives in a forest where grass simply does not thrive. After spending years battling the moss, trying to get the lawn to grow, she realized that doing the opposite might be just the ticket. And, really, the garden is stunning. Now, she readily admits that a moss “lawn” isn’t the right thing for someone with children or dogs, but for an ornamental garden in a forest where high traffic isn’t required, moss makes a magnificent groundcover. I can’t wait to encourage some of my clients to adopt this outlook and quit fighting with grass that simply will never work in their spaces the way they want it to! Nori’s garden has been featured for the last 20 years in magazines, books and tv shows illustrating her great skills and beautiful spaces.

 

Sunday I awoke wondering if my sore throat was going to leave me without a voice. This wouldn’t be a good thing since I was scheduled to speak on garden coaching at the Maymont Show in the afternoon. I swallowed –ouch! My throat was still rough. I spoke, and something crackled out. Well, I’d be able to speak, but I still kept fairly quiet most of the day until lecture time.

 

We arrived at the Maymont show, which was a combination of garden show and home show, a couple of hours ahead of my talk. We wandered the show gardens, which frankly were disappointing after the spectacle of the Northwest Flower & Garden Show. We did a bit of shopping, but again, this was a disappointment. The gift vendors were outrageously overpriced – a coffee mug for $35! My old chipped favorites never cost that much!  The plant vendors didn’t offer anything spectacular, and the sales people didn’t even know much about many of the common plants they were selling. For goodness sakes if you’re going to see a Chamaecyparis pisifera filifera ‘Aurea’ know what it is! And, mixed in with all of this was a smattering of late night tv-esque sales of knife sets and vitamix machines. At least they had all of 12 green building booths to start building awareness. I suppose I’m spoiled by the spectacle in Seattle each year. Still, I kept my fragile voice to myself and listened to Richmond natives voice their disappointment in this year’s show. According to many old-timers, this was the worst show yet.

 

I did give my presentation to a very, very small audience. The woman who was in charge of speakers was very nice and very helpful. Still, the curtained-off, dark corner of the convention room floor in which they were presenting seminars was not inviting at all. It was loud and distracting. And, my lav-mic was barely audible. I got good feedback on the presentation from those who attended – including people who weren’t my family or family friends. And, I think I may have helped at least one person who was interested in making a career adjustment to add coaching to her offerings. So, the message made it to a new audience, however small. And, my voice held out! They even gave me a big box of cheese that has become the butt of many jokes and the focus of many meals over the past few days.

 

Monday I awoke to no sore throat and prematurely thought that my cold was gone. By mid-day it had found its way into my head and chest. Still, I did manage to take a tour through the woods and Rattlesnake creek, lead by my 5 year old niece. I snapped some photos of a gigantic vulture eating some poor rodent by the side of the road. Generally, I took it easy. And, yes, cheddar was on the dinner menu!

 

Today I visited a family friend’s garden to give her some help understanding her garden and what her gardener is doing wrong. Betty isn’t much of a gardener, but she likes a nice garden. Her gardener has hacked away and sprayed away at much of her forest under story garden. So, we walked and talked about how plants grow and react to the way they are being cut. We discussed that many of the things that bloom every other year are doing so because of when and how she is cutting them. We talked about some new plants she might try and places to move some she has that she dislikes in their current position. It was a nice chat, but after a horrible night of barely sleeping as the snot compounded in my head and chest, I didn’t last long. I begged off on her generous request that I “let her buy me lunch” and headed back home for some chicken soup and my sweat pants.

 

Now as I write this, snarfling away to avoid blowing my sore, chapped nose one more time, I am looking forward to the other gardening adventures that await me in these last few days of February. My mom toured me through her garden, which is just awakening for spring. I hope we find time to work together, raking up leaves and revealing more crocus and other bulbs she knows are starting to sprout. I know we will be going to the country in a few days to visit my great aunt Bea who will be celebrating every bright color in her garden despite her near blindness. I hope to find a day when we can tour a few of the grand gardens in the area, perhaps visiting Louis Ginter Botanical Gardens and enjoying a leisurely high tea as we gaze over the winter garden. My cousin will soon return from Arkansas. She was the person whose study of horticulture partially inspired my own return to school to enter this profession; needless-to-say, I love spending time with her and visiting her space. As well, later this week, I’ll be meeting new friends who have a spectacularly renovated home along a private pond nearby.  I will be consulting on renovations to their garden – with an eye toward developing a garden that will compliment their award-winning home remodel. And, one spot I can never miss when visiting Virginia, is Woodhaven.

 

Woodhaven is the home my great-grandparents built in the country and in which one of my cousins still resides. The home and the forest have seen better days. The barn has crumbled to the ground. The forest and grand oaks that lived for hundreds of years before the house was built were decimated by loggers who took advantage of my aging and ailing aunt in the 1980s. So, the chirping tree frogs and the giant trees will no longer be there to greet me, but the swing on the front porch and the train whistle in the distance and the scent of wild onion on the spring air will take me back to a time and a place held dear in my heart.

 

Soon enough it will be March, and once again I will be flying home to the west coast where my own garden with its own needs and delights await. I’m excited by the prospect of working in the multitude of Seattle gardens that my clients needs provide for me. Still, while I’m on this coast, I’ll drink in and cherish every moment. Perhaps these experiences will prove a healing elixir to my ailing body, sending me home relaxed, refreshed, inspired and renewed – much like Spring itself.