That’s the breaks

My short driveway is an asphalt valley between two tall snowcapped peaks. Beneath the thick snowy blanket are roses, nandinas, liriope, hollies, camellias, a fernspray cypress that is growing too wide for its proximity to the drive, and an old weeping theadleaf Japanese maple that encroaches on the drive by several feet. No doubt there are problems under there, but damage from the weight of the snow won’t be evident until it melts, perhaps for weeks.

Following the heavy December snow there were  a few broken branches on the large hollies, and a host of bent branches on the tall junipers and hollies. The nandinas were arched to the ground, but all have since nearly recovered their form, and damage from that storm will be fixed with a few snips of the pruners.

Though I haven’t traveled through the back garden since the latest blizzard, I see from a distance that a large branch of an evergreen cypress has split (which was a poorly developed crotch that I failed to repair when the tree was younger, so I’ve gotten my just desserts). I expect a few more problems than from the earlier snow, but not enough to be bothered about, and none that compares to the damage I’ve seen in the neighborhood, and heard of from acquaintances.

Trees ripped from the ground, roots and all
When I hear about a large evergreen that has blown over, exposing the roots, I know that we’re talking about only one plant, Leyland cypress. They have weak root systems, and in sandy soils that don’t allow a strong foothold like the clay soils predominant in this area, Leylands blow over with regularity. With hundreds, perhaps thousands of pounds of snow clinging to the branches, and a bit of breeze, they will fall in an instant.

Is there  a chance the tree can be saved? Don’t bet the farm on it. First, the roots are exposed, freezing and drying out. It’s likely they’ll be dead or badly injured before the tree can be righted. Second, roots have been torn, mangled, and broken in the process of being pulled from the ground, not a good thing for any plant, but particularly not for a finicky tree that often resents transplanting. Third, how do you dig a hole, pull the monster upright, backfill soil without leaving huge air pockets that will fill with water and probably kill it if all else doesn’t, and then support it so it doesn’t blow over in the next puff of a breeze?

You don’t, so save your money and effort to plant a tree to replace it.

One half of the split trunk of my large American holly snapped off
Well of course it did. It was bound to happen, sooner or later. Weak crotches of evergreens and deciduous trees will fail eventually, though, of course, deciduous trees are rarely a threat to split under duress from snow. It should be plain to see that we can’t reattach the severed limb, so cut it up and dispose of it, and we’ll see if the remainder of the tree has enough fullness to save.

What to do with the splinters left behind? Wait for nicer weather, then make a clean cut, trying to leave an inch or so of the trunk so that the cut might heal. All of this is probably much ado over nothing, as the tree will probably be so unsightly without its missing half that the cut will be made to remove the remainder and be done with it.

The top half of an evergreen tree has snapped off
The first issue is that the trunk or branches are probably still attached to the tree. If they don’t pose a safety hazard there is no reason that this project can’t wait a few weeks. The damage is done and there’s no benefit to you or the tree in attempting repairs in nasty weather. If the damaged branch blocks a driveway, or is in danger of falling onto the house you might have to take care of it sooner. In many cases this is a task for a professional with the proper climbing and safety equipment.

There’s probably not much that can be done to save the ornamental value of this tree in the short term. Many evergreens will grow a replacement leader (main trunk), but it can take years before the natural form is regained. With some large evergreens, particularly pines that are most vulnerable to injury, it might be impossible, and the only realistic solution will be to remove the entire tree. So, the answer is, the trees are unlikely to die from the injury, but each will need to be evaluated for their ornamental value.

The _________ (supply the plant of your choice) has been squashed
This one is more hopeful. The snow will melt, and most branches, even those you’re figuring have been crushed, will spring back after a couple weeks and look nearly as good as ever. If they don’t bounce all the way back you can help persuade them by pruning some off the top, and with a lighter load the branches are more likely to spring back into shape.

For now, exercise some patience, sit back and wait for the snow to melt, then take a tour of the garden on a warm, sunny day to assess the damage. Take along your pruners. There will be a bunch of small broken branches, and some larger limbs that can be pruned easily.

Is there anything good that comes of this much snow?
Of course, there’s always a bright side.  Plants most often die in the winter months from a lack of available moisture and drying winds. You don’t need me to tell you there’s plenty of moisture, and the snow’s so high that plants are buried and not exposed to the wind. Also, roots are protected from subfreezing temperatures by a snowy blanket of insulation. Your plants are better off than you suspect.

Here we go again

The snow is piling up …. again! And so, what else to do but relax with a good book, perhaps even a gardening book, or work on the spring seed order, or compile the list of perennials that can’t possibly be lived without.

Today I have completed reading The Explorer’s Garden: Shrubs and Vines from the Four Corners of the World by Daniel J. Hinkley, with tales of hydrangeas, viburnums, edgeworthias (below), and mahonias found in foreign lands. This is adequate inspiration to survive the winter a bit longer.

Though the garden is covered by a white, snowy blanket, with renewed enthusiasm I have concluded that my project for this spring will be to rejuvenate the lower half of the dry, shady garden between the house and the sliver of maple and poplar forest that borders the property, an area perhaps fifty or sixty feet square. When the garden was younger, and shade from the maples was less intrusive, a Forest Pansy redbud was planted equidistant from the house to the forest edge, but as shade has crept closer, the redbud has declined.

Oakleaf hydrangeas (Hydrangea quercifolia, above) planted beneath the arching trunk of the redbud have grown thin, and bloom weakly, possibly due to the thin, dry soil as much as the lack of sunlight. At other points in the garden, given more moist conditions and a few hours of sun, this hydrangea grows thick and blooms beautifully, and the autumn color is spectacular and prolonged.

With less than stellar performances from the redbud and hydrangeas I often choose to simply ignore the area, detour around, try to forget this troublesome spot. Further up the slope the stone path that runs parallel to the side of the house is hopelessly obstructed by large leaf hostas and arching branches of tall nandinas. To stray from the path inevitably leads through a stretch of mud, and care must be taken to avoid carrying that into the house lest the wife put a stop to all this nonsense and demand more paths, and mulch, all of which seems like so much labor. And so you can see that the reasonable solution is to avoid the area altogether.

But, at least for today, or until the spending of dollars and labor must begin, the plan will be to concentrate efforts to add a few evergreens that will tolerate the shade, and perhaps a flowering understory tree or two that will lend a bit more substance. Certainly the native dogwood (Cornus florida, in bloom in April above) will do well here, and the upright columnar plum yew (Cephalotaxus) will offer a winter presence currently lacking (and the long dark green needles lend an interesting textural element not found in other shade plants).

The gold splashed forms of aucuba (Aucuba Gold Dust, above) planted nearby have nearly recovered from being nibbled to near death by deer a winter ago, and with my newfound commitment to spraying the deer repellent, both gold and green leafed aucubas will work wonderfully, so there is another evergreen, and both beali and Winter Sun mahonias (below) have grown splendidly, so there’s another.

Without the threat of deer I can resume collecting  hostas, and with the dark evergreen plum yew and aucuba the huge gold leaves of Sum and Substance will work particularly well. Helleborus (below) have done quite well in this dry shady location, and this is an excellent opportunity to expand my collection of these fine late winter bloomers. Now we’re getting somewhere!

My wish list of perennials to plant this spring has included mostly those preferring sun, but I will reconsider and attend more to those for shady gardens. With these final touches I’m confident that I can bring this together within a reasonable budget, but if not, the result will be so marvelous that stretching the budget a bit won’t be painful at all.