Author: lwcmartin@bellsouth.net

I’m pretty sure that my houseplants have traveled more than I have this past year. Every fall they are dragged from the front porch to live indoors on any available window sill where they remain until spring, when they’re dragged back out.

During these long, cold days of winter, even though the plants and I would both rather be outside, we’re grateful for the warmth and protection of the house.

My favorite houseplants are the ferns. I’ve created a bit of a small indoor “ferny glade” in the back where, on nice days, sunshine streams in. Here I have a couple of rabbit foot ferns, a bird’s nest, a small stag horn, an asparagus fern and a maidenhair. They all seem relatively happy, though growth is slower indoors and the green of their fronds is not quite as brilliant as it is on their outdoor summer growth. On the other hand, inside there are (usually) no squirrels to chew on the leaves and dig amongst the roots.

The point, though, is just to keep them alive and stable until warm weather comes again and they can journey back out to the front porch.

Several of these ferns I bought in those little “mini” pots, measuring only a couple of inches tall. I thought maybe they were dwarf varieties but no, all they wanted was a pot big enough to grow in and somebody to believe in them. My “mini” bird’s nest fern now has individual fronds over 24 inches long.

My oldest fern is a rabbit foot fern that I inherited from my husband’s mother (who died before I met Jack). Family legend says that this fern won a prize at one of the first Atlanta Flower Shows, decades ago. The best I can say about it now is that it’s still alive. I’m sure that even a rabbit foot fern runs out of luck and dies at some point.

I’m grateful to be surrounded by greenery as I wait for spring but I have to admit, I’m ready for warm weather and to do some traveling myself, hopefully a little farther than the front porch this year!

In my front garden I have a paper bush, Edgeworthia chrysantha, that my sister gave me several years ago. It’s a remarkable plant for several reasons, not the least of which is that it is all budded up and ready to bloom RIGHT NOW!

While most everything else is still heavy with winter sleep, this baby looks ready to party. The blossoms will fully open sometime during the next month and look something like those of Daphne. Fortunately, the paper bush is much easier to grow than it’s look-alike cousin Daphne.

Interestingly enough, both of these shrubs have been used historically to make paper. The inner bark is harvested, beaten to a pulp and spread on screens to make paper.

Both shrubs are native to China and the Himalayas where they grow at elevations between 6500 and 9500 feet. Villages in Nepal are particularly well known for making lokta paper from the shrub Daphne papyracea. The paper was used extensively in Tibetan monasteries for writing sacred texts. The oldest text written on lokta paper is a sacred Buddhist text written between 1000 and 1900 years ago. Because it is of such high quality, lokta paper is still used today in Nepal for recording government documents.

Since I only have ONE Edgeworthia shrub and no Daphne, (and no sacred nor governmental texts to write) I decided not to go into the paper making business and to just enjoy the mid-winter gift of flowers.

When someone asked me recently what my favorite flower was, my answer was decisive and immediate. Orchids! What? what about all those wildflowers you profess to love? what about roses? camellias? peonies? and dozens of other plants that are of startling beauty?

I know. I probably shouldn’t play favorites but wow. Once you’ve seen an orchid, it’s almost like seeing the face of God. There is simply nothing on this earth that can compare to the intricate and. unique beauty of an orchid.

Every winter I treat myself to an Orchid Day at the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. ABG puts on a stupendous orchid show, beginning in February but I usually go in January. Not only are there no crowds, but it’s easier for me to appreciate the intricacies of each bloom when there are not thousands shouting for my attention.

The United States is native home to over 200 species (there are, to date, over 25,000 known orchid species worldwide, with more species being discovered every year). Unfortunately, over half the species native to the U.S. are considered endangered or threatened somewhere in their native range.There are over 100 orchid species native to Florida but, it might surprise you to learn that there are 48 orchid species native to Minnesota.

Contrary to my usual predilection for informing, naming and teaching, I’m just going to let these photos speak for themselves. Sometimes you just need to wallow in the beauty without worrying about the who and the what and the why. Just enjoy.

We had a hard frost last night and the world turned icy and sparkly. It may not have been as exciting as a heavy blanket of snow, but hey, we live in the South, we take what we can get.

As gardeners, we often use the terms “frost” and “freeze” interchangeably but of course they mean two different things. Frost is where water vapor freezes on a solid surface and freeze is simply when the temperature drops below that magical 32 degree mark. The USDA has divided the country into different growing regions based on the first average frost date but more accurately, it would be the first average freeze date.

Not all plant are affected the same way by freezing temperatures. Much of it depends on their point of origin. Plants that are native to warm tropical regions, where there is no need to guard agains cold temperatures, will die back after only a few hours of below freezing temperatures. Many of the plants that we consider “annuals”, such as lantana and vinca, are actually cold sensitive perennials that will only grow, bloom and survive during the warm months.

Freezing temperatures often kill herbaceous plants because the cells within the plant actually turn to ice and either slit open the surface of the cell or block the flow of water (sort of like a blood clot in a human). In any case, a freeze prevents the flow of water and the leaves wilt and then die.

Plants that are native to the region in which you live and garden are much better adapted to your particular weather and climatic conditions. If really cold temperatures are part of your basic weather pattern, the plants have evolved to survive. All of which is a compelling reason to plant and grown native plants!

Trees and shrubs, unless particularly cold sensitive, are generally unaffected by freezing temperatures because they have already dropped leaves and become dormant by the time a freeze occurs or they are evergreens, adapted to varying temperatures.

I’m always sorry when the first killing freeze happens because it is the immediate end to the warm weather garden. Overnight, things turn black and die back. But then, there are, as always, certain lessons to be learned from nature. No living thing is programmed to be “on” all the time. All of us, whether we’re a pansy or a person, need a time of rest, a time to go dormant and let the world wash over us.

This year, of all years, we need this dormancy. It is, perhaps, our time to be still and quiet as we wait at home for everyone to be vaccinated and for the end of the epidemic, as we wait for Joe Biden to finally fully occupy the White House, as we quietly wait for spring when we will emerge fresh, energized and ready to grow again.

January is the traditional time for making resolutions to be better, smarter, healthier……whatever your current goals are. It is, in short, time to turn over a new leaf, to leave (happily) last year behind and enjoy a fresh start in the New Year.

Nature, too, seems to be turning over a few new leaves, though you have to look closely to find them. I’m always amazed but gratified to see new growth on plants even in January. These are the “front line workers,” ready to brave cold and dreary conditions to bring early bloom to a weary world.

Most of these plants aren’t actually blooming yet but are getting ready for the late winter show by putting out new leaves. The small English primrose (distant kin to the garish, neon-colored primroses found in garden centers) is establishing a healthy mound of crinkly light green leaves, even though the first yellow blossoms won’t come for another six to eight weeks.

Forget-me-not, too, is looking robust these days as it plumps and preens and takes advantage of any unoccupied space. In March, sky blue flowers will curl up like a scorpion’s tail to unfurl and bloom, one tiny blossom at a time.

Of course among the very earliest bloomers are the Lenten roses, the Hellebore species whose most vigorous growth and spectacular bloom occurs at the end of January. Often, these whitish green or purplish pink blossoms are the only bright color in the garden. Reveling in their lack of competition, they bloom profusely for several months until the rest of the garden seems to catch up.

And of course weeds such as chickweed, dandelion and wild onions are taking advantage of the basically bare playing field to fill in and spread while the spreading is good.

I love the new leaves of nature and I love looking for them right now, when finding a single new leaf is a cause for celebration. In the middle of spring, when plants burst forth in a joyful parade of abundance, it’s a little more difficult to appreciate a single leaf.

So, my “new leaf”, my resolve, is to take time and appreciate each moment and to live my life in gratitude for every leaf, every flower, every living thing and for every breath to be a hallelujah.

Jack and I love to entertain, particularly during the holidays. For reasons too obvious to even mention, we knew that this year was going to look different and of course, it did. We began preparing early and in the fall, purchased two outdoor heaters and a fire pit, all of which were put to very good use during the past month.

Though we usually host a large gathering of old friends at Christmas, this wasn’t the year to do that so instead, we had couples over one at a time to sit on the front porch and share a meal. For safety – and culinary – reasons, we generally picked up food from a local restaurant and I set up the porch so that each couple had their own little world.

With separate seating areas and heaters, we could comfortably sit 6 or 8 feet away from one another, close enough for conversation but distanced enough for safety. I have to say that even though I love a crowd, I may love the intimacy of entertaining just another couple even more. Conversations were deeper, longer and more meaningful and I came away from the season knowing and loving my friends even better.

The firepit proved to be the perfect focal point for some raucous family gatherings. One cold night, all the kids and grandkids came over and we built a large fire, put a grill over it and cooked sausages and hot dogs. I made baked beans (from scratch), cole slaw and chocolate chip cookies and everyone agreed that it was a spectacular family gathering.

Last night my sister traveled down from Blue Ridge so we could (finally) celebrate Christmas together and of course, we were on the front porch. As we sat, far into the night sipping wine by candle light and sharing memories, I thought, why would anyone want to be inside? We were toasty warm with our own personal heaters, wrapped up in fuzzy blankets and warm socks. A year ago, it never would have occurred to me to eat outside on a chilly, damp December night. But this year? We were wrapped in this silver lining, grateful for our health and our love for one another.

I hope that the New Year brings you good health, happiness and lots of time outdoors!

Laura

In the middle of November, I purchased some of those oh-so-popular amaryllis boxes that include potting material, a bulb and a pot. I thought it would be fun for the kids to plant to give to their mothers at Christmas time.

But, when my granddaughter, Rowan, and I opened one of the boxes and unwrapped the bulb, it had already tried to sprout. Unfortunately, the wrapping had kept it curled onto itself. If there ever was a plant in the fetal position, this was it.

I have to admit, it looked kind of deformed and sickly as it was almost completely white. I almost suggested that we just compost it and go get another but then I thought, oh why not. This little guy seemed determined to grow. Let’s just see what happens so with a wish and a prayer, we potted up the poor little thing, give it a drink and set it in the sunshine.

Rowan and I decided that I should keep the bulbs at my house so as to surprise her Mom at Christmas. I also thought, to myself, and when this baby dies, I can just toss it. But, I didn’t say that to Rowan.

That was on November 20. TWO days later, the stem was beginning to straighten and turn green. And, on November 23, a mere 3 days after planting, the stem was almost entirely straight. I was excited and couldn’t wait to share this miracle with Rowan.

By December 3, we had a nice fat bud and by Dec. 11th, only three weeks after planting, it was in full bloom. It generally takes an amaryllis bulb 6 – 8 weeks to bloom after being planted.

You may not be as in awe of this entire process as Rowan and I were but you’ll have to admit that there is something completely miraculous about any living thing wanting to grow and bloom so badly that it bursts the binds that hold it back. All that this little bulb wanted was a chance to grow.

As we end this year, I can’t help but think that this bulb is a great illustration of where we’ve been and where we’re going. 2020 has been hard, but give us a new start, a little water and sunshine in 2021 and WATCH US BLOOM.

Merry Christmas to you all and have a blooming good New Year!!!!

All my grandchildren are quite accustomed to my dragging out craft supplies and setting them to work on a project. The adult people in my family, not so much. So, on the day after Thanksgiving when we were all together and I pulled out paints for a project for ALL of us to do, there were some raised eyebrows and I’m sure a few rolled eyes.

Fortunately, the weather was balmy so we were able to spread out on the screened porch and keep plenty of distance between various family pods. I had purchased 10 small plain wooden cut out ornaments and thought that they would be fun to paint.

Instead of painting one for ourselves, though, I thought it would be fun for each of us to put our name in a hat and draw names to paint for someone else. It worked great!!! The youngest (Braxton) got to choose first and was so delighted with his choice he clapped his hands and got right to work.

Jack, the oldest, chose last and was a wee bit slower picking up the paintbrush and deciding on colors. But, amazingly enough soon everyone – adults and children alike – were all under the spell of the paintbrush.

It was fun to see different personalities come out. Andy spent a great deal of time making sure that his ornament was perfectly symmetrical. Cameron painted both sides of hers with brilliant, passionate precision and was done first. Of course.

Ellie kept glancing over at me and smiling so I wasn’t surprised to find out that she had chosen my name. We ended up doing ours alike – I painted a red truck for “Papa” Jack and she painted one for me.

All in all in was one of my more successful family craft ventures. Not only did we enjoy it for the hour (plus or minus) that we spent painting, but we now each have an ornament to hang on our tree every year, reminding us of that day in 2020 when we stood apart and came together to paint for each other.

Last April I planted morning glory seeds at the street, carefully preparing the soil. My vision was of the mailbox covered with blue flowers that would delight early morning walkers and cause people to stop and admire each sky blue blossom.

Ha. Instead, I had massive vines with giant leaves and twirling stems so vigorous they reached out like tentacles, probably scaring every child that walked up the street. And, not a single bloom. Not one!!

By midsummer with the Godzilla vine in full force, I began wondering what in the world was going on and began researching. The information was vague. The best that I could determine was that morning glory needs poor soils and dry conditions, so all that compost and organic fertilizer that I poured into the ground before seeding and the more-than-ample rains we received all summer resulted in great growth – and no bloom.

By early August, I was tired of looking for blossoms so I ripped out most of the vine, leaving just enough to soften the metal pole of the mailbox. Two weeks later, you could barely tell I had removed anything. By this point, I had given up and just tried to keep the vines clipped back so my gardener- mail carrier could find the mailbox.

But guess what, a week ago – at the end of NOVEMBER, I walked out to find three beautiful sky blue flowers beginning to open. It was around noon but because of the short day hours and maybe because of the cool temperatures, it was a little late getting up in the morning, to say nothing of being really late getting up in the season. Why now? My guess is that the fertilizer had finally begun to leach out of the soil and that it finally dried out a bit.

Every few days, I would get a few blossoms, which I cherished. Until two nights ago when Atlanta got its first hard freeze and then – poof! Overnight the vine froze, the leaves turned dark and my morning glory dropped to the frozen ground.

So, in eight months I got a handful of blossoms. As much as I love flowers, I’m not sure that it was worth it. Although I have to admit that when it finally did bloom, I thought “morning glory” what an entirely appropriate name!

I am passionate about making bread and, in my lifetime, must have made hundreds if not thousands of loaves. Lest you think I’m exaggerating, I’ve made two loaves of bread on the average of once a week for the last 45 years. You can do the math. That’s a lot of bread.

I’ll admit that I don’t always knead it by hand, though that’s my clear preference. But, when time is short and I have other projects going on, I’ll let the KitchenAid mixmaster do the kneading for me. I have never used a bread machine and though I’ve heard they’re excellent, I probably never will.

I’m not sure what attracted me to bread making in the beginning. I think it’s probably whatever keeps me enthralled 45 years later. I love the connection that I feel with bakers throughout the ages. It’s such an incredibly ancient craft that it makes me feel that I’m a link in a chain that has been unbroken for 10,000 years.

The first bread was said to have been made by Egyptians in 8000 BC. They used a grinding tool called a quern to crush the wheat into flour to be made into a bread somewhat like today’s tortilla.

The magic of bread comes from the wheat, of course. And though I’ve considered growing my own wheat and grinding it into flour, that seems as if it would be a bit time consuming. Instead, I use the best flour I can find. There are very few ingredients in basic bread (flour, water, yeast and salt), but they are all absolutely essential. Once I made two beautiful loaves of whole wheat sandwich bread and then realized that I’d forgotten the salt. My grandson, Rivers, with his 13 year old faith in grandma, assured me that they would taste the same. After one bite, he pushed it away and told me next time, REMEMBER the salt.

Speaking of the grandkids, I’m afraid they may be just a tiny bit spoiled. They are avid cheese toast eaters, but only if the bread is home made. Otherwise, they politely decline. I point out that they eat store bought bread at home but they just say, “yes, but not here.”

I love the way bread dough feels. If it’s done just right, it is springy but not sticky, it is pliable without being too stretchy and it smells divine.

Though I make several different kinds of bread from Black Russian to Sally Lunn, I usually end up making a whole wheat sandwich bread. After all, I have all those cheese toasts to make! After this strange and challenging year, we still have much to be thankful for, including our daily bread.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all. I hope that it is a safe and joyous holiday for you and your families.