Winter can seem interminable, bare, depressing, harsh, bereft of daylight. Inspired by great English and Japanese garden-makers, I decided to create my own winter garden, hoping it would aid reflection, as well as uplift my spirits in this time of folly and fear (which can be an even darker place than winter).
Zen practitioners often meditate in a seated position within or near a highly symbolic garden, beautiful through understatement. During cold and snowy winters, these gardens could be viewed from indoors through glass windows or by sliding back wall panels. A few Japanese gardens were even designed to be unenterable!
These meditation gardens let your imagination run free. Every rock, tree, path, pond, bridge, etc., could have multiple meanings, sometimes associated with a sacred place or poem. In the mind’s eye, carefully placed boulders become cranes, tigers, sacred mountains or turtles, often linked to Buddhist teachings. Sand patterns suggest ripples or waves. Highly clipped shrubs float like clouds. Often, the scene flouts perspective or size—miniature trees loom like forests.
Trees and shrubs that shine in winter
In England, during the late 18th century, the gardens of stately homes were designed for viewing from a courtyard or terrace. Considerable work and funds were expended to dig lakes, build hills and create vistas so that these gardens corresponded to popular landscape paintings by the famous French artist Claude Lorrain. They were called “picturesque gardens,” and viewers sometimes employed a lens to peer through, adding a kind of picture frame to the scene.
With modest expectations for my winter garden, I selected the ground viewable from the glass doors of my living room. Next, I cleared out underwhelming plants, leaving a blank canvas except for several mature shrubs and trees along the boundary.
From Japanese and English gardens, I learned that it’s all about having a simple structure, and I considered the design and appropriate plant choices. Gardeners are such keen optimists, but I had to temper my enthusiasm by considering my own patch—its sunlight, temperature, drainage, soil, etc. Of course, blowsy summer flowers were impossible in winter.
I studied photos and notes taken during visits to two wonderful English winter gardens: Wisley in the county of Sussex, and Sir Harold Hillier Arboretum and Gardens in Hampshire. Both made full use of a palette of interesting bark, bold-coloured stems, scent, foliage and colour from a limited range of winter-flowering plants.
My winter garden begins with well-placed trees and shrubs that shine in winter. Possible choices: Cornus (dogwoods), Acer (maples), Hamamelis (witch hazel), evergreen conifers, mahonia, skimmia, beautyberry, sweetbox, daphne and winter-flowering varieties of camellias.
Hillier’s made a point of supporting winter wildlife by leaving seed heads intact on faded plants such as teasels. I find a particular beauty in the pale spent flowerheads of hydrangeas and always leave them alone until early spring.
I decided on dogwoods like ‘Midwinter Fire,’ ‘Alba’ and ‘Red Twig’ that have flaming, bare red stems in winter. The light filtering through flaming dogwoods is utterly magical, when the oblique winter sunlight strikes them. In autumn, they begin their show with moody carmine or yellow foliage, before they drop their leaves and expose that shimmering bark.
My larger shrub choice is a personal favourite, hydrangeas (I already had two mopheads and one oakleaf). I added a wild hydrangea and several lace caps that would flower in summer when the dogwoods were rather dull. The colour of hydrangea flowers can depend on the soil—if acidic, blues and purples, and if alkaline, pink.
Hellebores are a must
For underplanting—so much to choose from! My choices were hardy cyclamen with white, pink and red blooms. Their variegated leaves look terrific all winter long. Most important was to plant up the beds and pots with spring bulbs like tulips, daffodils, crocus, camassia, glory of the snow and anemone, to name a few. Already, little green spears are appearing at the soil line! With le changement climatique, the spring show really begins in winter.
Lastly, hellebores are a must for my winter garden. The steep slope of land opposite the glass doors of my bedroom are filled with rose, purple, yellow and white varieties of this tough winter plant, a perennial that shines in winter. Intermixed with them, I’ve added impatiens, cranesbill geraniums and spring bulbs.
A winter garden, like anything worthwhile, takes time and effort. It’s a work in progress, as long as I am the garden-maker. Already, in the first year, it fills my heart with a joy like none other. So there’s nothing boring about my winter!
«LECTURE CONNEXE» LET LESS SPEAK MORE: Allusions of a Japanese rock garden»
image 1 FotoRieth de image: Pixabay 2 schulcircus de image: Pixabay 3 courtesy of author
