I have developed a strong antipathy for the term ‘winter interest’ in garden writing. Do we truly have nothing better to say about winter gardens or the plants growing in them than to damn them with faint praise? I have been guilty myself, but now repent wholeheartedly.
To term something ‘winter interest’ is to reject the capacity of the winter garden to charm on its own terms. It is to begin in the premise that the winter garden is markedly inferior to the summer garden; and as such, cannot hope to inspire, energize, or uplift the gardener, but only clinically interest him. As in, “It’s a pity everything looks like hell out there. But I did notice a gumball-pruned holly while making a beeline for the front door.”
By that definition, an abandoned wheelbarrow is winter interest, as is that pile of black pots you meant to stash away but never did. They drew the eye for a moment, disappointed it, then released it in a wash of guilt and/or regret. It is at core a statement of absence and comparison. We do not use or need its equivalent in spring and summer – no one in their right mind terms a tulip “spring interest.”
Judge them differently
Yes there is less to admire. Less in-your-face frippery – less of the cheap and easy thrill. But there is a deeper, more resonant quality to the winter landscape. The superficiality of one’s summer play is laid bare, and we are forced to contemplate the underlying structure – or lack thereof – and fix it if we dare. We are faced with our weaknesses as gardeners – the bones that were never planted, the structures unpainted, the winding paths never laid. That pile of pots.
Enough winter interest! Expect more of your garden. Expect more of your plants. How much better to create a scene and name the attributes of a plant or structure in the winter garden for what they are adding to the overall effect, in the same way we effortlessly discuss those characteristics during the growing season?
In summer, grasses soften hard lines and provide movement. In winter, that sexy sway stiffens and morphs into fountains of tawny beige. In summer, an uber-thin ‘Taylor’s’ juniper is a vertical statement, in winter, it becomes a launching point, drawing your gaze upwards to an icy blue sky. The pinkish cast on a ‘Silver Lining’ pyracantha is something unachievable in the summer garden – revel in that blush! Do not hand it second place in a beauty contest with the too-easy condescension of ‘winter interest.’
Big Picture Thinking Is Required
Do we dare move beyond winter interest and claim our gardens in winter? To build a winter garden, or at least, a garden that continues to enchant and surprise us with strong colors, textures, shapes and views, a layering, patient approach is necessary – especially in smaller gardens where players must assume many parts. That requires more than a quick and casual approach to planting.
For instance, a red or yellow twigged Cornus (or a bit of both in the cultivars ‘Midwinter Fire’ or ‘Arctic Fire’) is a striking beacon in the winter months, but the shrub is dull during the growing season. It must be tucked in where it can bide its time least offensively as a green backdrop in order that it may stun the pants off you the minute it loses its leaves and the temperatures drop.
But that’s not enough. It must echo elsewhere – even if it’s simply a bunch of pruned whips from the original shrub poked into potting soil in a pot or pots on the porch. One shrub on an arctic tundra qualifies under the insipidity of ‘winter interest,’ two or more bright fiery displays make it look like you planned it.
Because you did.
One Thing Leads to Another
And from there perhaps you build on a good thing, underplanting your deciduous shrubs with some resilient hellebores, cheerful snowdrops and winter aconite, Chinodoxa, Puschkinia, etc.. – plants and bulbs that will play a huge part at soil level and then either disappear or happily enjoy a summer shading.
Layer follows layer – it takes time to build a garden that holds its own in winter. We commit to that endeavor when we stop talking in terms of ‘interest’ and start talking in terms of colors, shapes, textures and views.
Right now on Instagram (@marianne.willburn) I’m celebrating the winter garden and the many gifts of this cold but captivating season all the way up to the first day of spring. If you’re having trouble moving from ‘winter interest’ to ‘winter garden,’ join me there and perhaps I can change your mind. – MW
Part of the issue, and a topic for a future piece from me just as soon as I get around to it, is that we tend to focus on either trying to get colour through the year or focusing on the garden in summer, so plants that look good during winter become marginalised; they end up being a novelty squashed in to corners rather than a specific design feature. ‘Winter interest’ becomes something of an accident in what is considered to be a summer-only garden.
Yes – mea culpa Ben. I just added to that problem by telling people to squash in Cornus alba because it is dull during the growing season. However, this is a real problem for people with small gardens – giving over precious room for plants that stun in winter. Perhaps the cornus and other dull summer performers should be relegated to bigger gardens that can balance them, and we should concentrate on sharing plants that are true four season stars – like H. quercifolia for the vast majority of gardeners with small to middle sized gardens? – MW
Thanks, Marianne! Needed saying. But I also take issue with that ‘colour’, Ben. See https://gardenrant.com/2021/02/winter-colour-in-the-garden.html.
I don’t know how I missed this fantastic post Anne, but I did. If other readers did too – PLEASE follow the link. I’ve thought a lot about my switcharoo position on winter (I once hated it), but after reading your post I think it was because of the friendsand visiting I have done in the PNW, Cornwall and Wales that I began to appreciate the subtle variations in browns, greys, beiges, bronzes, and greens that are exemplified in the winter, and began to see those variations playing all around me here in the midAtlantic. It’s more obvious where you are (without our temperature extremes), but those subtle colors are present, and no, we don’t have to have bright red twigs everywhere to have a winter garden. – MW
Maybe some winter garden tours are in order!
It’s a fine idea Mary, but probably just as a day trip to one or two gardens with a handful of kindred spirits. Honestly I’ve been shocked by how much grumbling can be done about the rain or “off” weather by busloads of gardeners. I’m thinking the cold would be a deal breaker for most. – MW
My moss garden is “interesting” in all seasons — providing year-round green appeal, especially in the winter, when other horticultural choices are dormant.
Though I don’t intentionally create areas of moss in my garden, I definitely encourage the natural formations. And they are a bright spark in winter – just exquisite. I have planned to discuss them in a future #whywintergarden day on Instagram, with a hearty recommendation of your book Annie! – MW
As much as I would prefer a more limited winter season (I liive on Cape Cod and would be so much happier with 2 added months of summer), I fully enjoy winter gardens. I love the conifers-the yellows, blues and greens and the heaths and heathers as well as the many leucothoe’s and their crazy gorgeous maroon leaves….the yellow and red twigs-the grasses moving…moss and watching the pussy willow begin to swell…oh, I could go on and on…but I guess I already have. And still as I go to sleep I’m lost in ideas for this new garden and all the plants and ideas I hope to introduce.
Some wonderful plants there Penny. I do not wish for a longer winter season either, but I am thankful for the one I have. It’s mostly about the length of the growing season though, rather than the length of winter if that makes any sense. I want to be able to see my hedychium and Hibiscus sabdariffa flower, and allow fruits to form on my Solanum quitoense. I’m usually only just getting there when the season ends. – MW
I support your advocacy for planning the winter garden on an equal basis with summer. As someone who is just now appreciating the beauty of my garden in winter, I am looking back at my planning process.
The term “winter interest” served to mark a desirable quality in a plant that will show in a later season when you are not purchasing and planting. It means “pay attention, use this information to plan your winter garden effect”. For me, this is valuable and a big reason why my garden now is more than a bunch of withered dead stems, but “interesting “!
Thanks for the thoughts Vivian. I understand your thankfulness for the ‘winter interest’ heads-up, I just think there are better ways of describing what, exactly, it is adding. Bark? Berry? Leaf? Structure? ‘Interest’ is just so….. meh. – MW
Great piece , M. I wholeheartedly agree and will never use the term again. Come to think of it I think I’d already developed an aversion through having endured in the past too many of those awful pieces in magazines by writers with nothing original to say.
Yes! An advocate! Thank you Charles. xoMW
Marianne, you may want to add a presentation titled something to the effect of “Glory of the Winter Garden” to your list!
Perhaps a good topic for future talks – yes. And after being immersed in IG this last month I am starting to realize how much gardeners use the red twigs of shrub dogwoods as “the winter garden” — might be overused actually. Much to think about in any case. – MW
I loved my winter garden in southern Granville County, NC on the line of zones 7a and 7b. We were lucky to have native hollies, red cedar, pines, very tall high-pruned tulip poplars and other deciduous trees as framework. Over the years, I added several weeping Japanese maples for their beautiful structure, rhododendrons, Pieris japonica (including dwarf varieties), Cephalotaxus harringtonia ‘prostrata’, Danae racemosa, Ruscus ‘Elizabeth Lawrence’ and a couple of larger cvs, occasional medium-height camellias, Distyllium ‘Vintage Jade’, Serissa japonica, Dichroa febrifuga, Illicium, Edgeworthia chrysantha, Mahonia eurobracteata ‘Sweet Caress’, Nandina, a Poncirus trifoliata ‘Flying Dragon’, and a Daphne odora ‘Variegata’ that anchored a path intersection. These were in 3 large beds, and underplanting the shrubs were various selections of perennials — depending on the bed: Rohdea japonica in rivers, Ardisia japonica ‘Chirimen’ in a bed of its own, Carex ‘Everest’, Ardisia japonica ‘Variegata’, various that held leaves through the winter such as Christmas fern, autumn fern, holly fern, epimediums with leaves of coral to russet, Arum italicum (definitely not invasive or even aggressive in my garden), groundcovers of evergreen Solomon’s seal (Disporosis pernyi), Sarcococca humilis, native partridge berry, Pachysandra procumbens, hellebores, rivers of Carex morrowii ‘Ice Dance’. I’m really weird in that I don’t like yellow in the garden (unless pale lemon), or purchased needled evergreens in a naturally deciduous woodland. There are pines, but they’re so tall they’re not noticed much while in the garden. Also, the two red cedars are in a mowed grass (mostly weeds) meadow by themselves.
Thus in winter I had the textures of the plants in the several beds, lots of berries, variegated leaves, moss-covered rocks — never boring! I left fallen leaves on the beds but off the plants and off the moss garden. These are plants I remember — and I’m sure I’ve left some out. I got plants from the JC Raulston Arboretum, Plant Delights, Architectural Trees (no longer in business), Camellia Forest.
I really enjoy Garden Rant!
What a fantastic collection of plants Marty – I hope others are reading the comments and taking notes. You had me stumped with Ardisia, but looking it up I recognize it and have never committed the name to memory as it would be a tough zone pusher for me. My Illicium parviflora ‘Florida Sunshine’ looked like absolute hell until I finally dug it up and gave it to a Zone 8 gardening friend. I also have an Elizabeth Lawrence ruscus, straight from her garden, but so so tiny. It will be years before I can say anything constructive about it besides “go see this lovely in the EL garden!” 🙂 Thanks for the comment, I’m so glad you’re enjoying GR. – MW
One of my favorite books is “The Garden in Winter” by Rosemary Verey. If you plant a garden to look good in winter, the other seasons will be fine. Shout-out to Anne Wareham for her fabulous hedges.
Thanks, Glenys – and the hedges do give winter joy. I have Rosemary Verey’s book too – but she’s awfully demanding, isn’t she? I seem to remember being told to clean my pots and tools (which I have happily ignored). I must fish it out and check!
That is a terrific book – for Zone 8ers in the US, Elizabeth’s Lawrence’s book The Garden in Winter is very worth hunting out. Most recently (for the MidAtlantic and NE and to some extent the Midwest) David Culp’s A Year at Brandywine Cottage does a lovely job of highlighting the many reasons to lean into your winter garden. P.S. Anne knows her hedges are very fine and is resting on them in the winter (as well as her laurels in the back [grin]). But then, she had the foresight to plant them, so she’s entitled 😉 – MW
Winter is my time in the garden. I am elevated to the status of Head Gardener as the summer Head Gardener does not enjoy the wet and the cold. I have a good collection of snowdrops and enjoy the garden right through the winter – with lots of hellebores also and witch-hazels etc etc.
I think that’s an enviable position, but much depends on whether you have the ability to suggest changes to the spring and summer garden that will affect the winter garden? – MW
Oh, certain areas are left to me, to my devices etc – per the old gardening saying that couples who garden together should have separate beds!
Paddy, fun comment. I’m curious as to where you live? I’m guessing Ireland, perhaps?
Waterford, southeast Ireland.
So, thanks for a thought provoking piece, Marianne. Instead of trying to creating postcard tableaus, or the online equivalent, can we gardeners learn to appreciate and embrace the natural repose of the ecosystems where we live (not to mention seeing old wheelbarrows and maybe even black plastic pots as garden art)?
It seems most of all a question of perception, of learning to see with new eyes.
It is fair to recognize that this seasonal issue mostly affects the great boredom belt between the North, resting under its magical winter blanket of sparkling snow, and the Tropics, where green never rests. Nor does it apply to deserts (or shouldn’t, anyway,) where the earth itself, the stones and soil, provide winter (and summer) “interest”.
Layering (as in plant placement, not propagation) is indeed a valuable tool for garden design in all seasons, both for ecological and aesthetic (“interest?”) reasons. As you point out, winter can lay bare the bones of our gardens. It’s pretty useful, actually (if guilt provoking, as you point out!).
Gardening here in Zone 8 (just got moved up…) North Carolina, I’d add to the booklist Peter Loewer and Larry Mellichamp’s The Winter Garden: Planning and Planting For The Southeast. I remember Larry, a wry converso to the Church of Native Plants, decades ago saying something to the effect of “here, in winter, most plants are boring…” Honest man, whose spirit, wisdom, and good humor live on in our gardens.
You make two excellent points that I had not made Don, thank you. You are right, at least a third of the #whywintergarden days that I am sharing on Instagram have to do with connecting to the natural rhythm of the landscape in general — we are doomed to bitterly hate winter if we do not do this. And yes, it is very fair to recognize that this issue of making a difference in our winter gardens really affects what you amusingly term the ‘boredom belt’ – neither one place nor another here in the Mid-Atlantic, but still destined to endure bitter temperatures and extreme weather events. But that is a lot of us gardeners – Midwest, Mid-Atlantic, Piedmont, Upper South, much of the Northeast etc…. For those in the PNW or under a Maritime climate it is hard to hear complaining about the winter landscape! And in the West? Don’t get me started. My sister just sent me a shot of her ripening lemons. – MW
Thanks for your reply – looks like a very good conversation you got going, too! Thanks all, lots of thoughtful comments.
So, point well take. The ‘winter doldrums syndrome’ also applies to much of Europe, including a lot of the UK, plus huge areas of of Asia. Ya think maybe a better name for “the boredom belt” might be “deciduous forest” or something, maybe? (Here in “the Carolina Piedmont” it turns out we are (or were, anyway) a quilt of forest and prairie, with people taking part in maintaining that pattern for at least 10,000 years, give or take.) So, true, there are lots of us garden in this reality. It’s just that, as your piece gets us to thinking, we are wise to try to garden where we are. To me, it means it makes sense to think in “plant communities” (layers being part of that) rather than lovely individual plants, as much as we might love each and however worn out our copies of Dirr might be.
Oh yeah I hear you about those gardeners in warmer places – lemons, huh?! My citrus envy has gotten so bad we have some living inside, now.
Which reminds me of one thing I didn’t mention: I’m a food gardener. The food garden/truck farm “stuff” of winter here – row covers especially, but mulch and cover crops, too – also can be part of a pattern language that shapes the quieter winterscape. Speaking of food, I imagine many of us are also including berry and mast sources for critters, who are as cold as we are. They too need shelter and food, and pay it off with color and entertainment for us.
True, covers flap and blow around. Our yard now looks like the Halloween ghosts have risen again from the frozen ground. Man, it has been cold here, lately (I hear you laughing up there in Maine and Minnesota.)
Don, an intriguing post full of good information and thank you for mentioning where you live and garden. Food gardeners aren’t found much on GR (though InstaGram has many) and I would recommend you contact Susan H, Marianne or Elizabeth L. about writing a Guest Rant column. I believe it would be warmly welcomed.
Thank you for your fine post.
Thanks very much, Diane. Perhaps I will (and I do see Sarah mentioning figs…) I also had a good laugh at Paddy’s separate beds!
Yes, it needs to be said. I love my garden in the winter but it’s an entirely different landscape, much more honest. But I notice the details far more. The old bare wall, entwined roots and stems, scent, snowdrops, the shapes and textures. Now that gardening has become fashionable, the inevitable 10 things to plant for winter interest, or the instagram shot of the perfect indoor/outdoor space all seems a bit empty and completely misses the point of a garden.
I LOVE the concept of the garden being more honest in the winter. Precisely. And yes to the ubiquitous top ten things to plant for winter – I’m going to throw these out off the top of my head – Red-stemmed dogwoods, witchhazel, snowdrops, crocus, Christmas fern, mahonia, hellebores, carex, and two favorite coniferous plants of choice. Am I close? Mind you, there are plenty of gardeners who have never dabbled in any of those, and we must get started somewhere – I do not begrudge the lists, at least they exist in a land of pretty-pretty summer gardens. – MW
On top of the winter blooming shrubs and flowers, something I like about my zone 9b winter garden is that I get to enjoy the structure of the deciduous trees, and all the birds that like to hang out in them. While my own fig tree isn’t a great shape (yet), there is one in my community garden SO lovely that it’s almost a shame when it leafs out!