The day before Christmas, I was gathering colorful ‘Arctic Fire’ cornus twigs in the garden, and was feeling content about the fact that the surrounding scene wasn’t the winter wasteland it once had been. Creating a garden that can stand proudly – or at least unashamedly – when leaves are gone and soils are grey is rewarding; but it is a process requiring patience and perspective. I’m not there yet, but I’ve planted and planned enough that I can see a destination point on the far-off horizon.
The winter garden was top of mind not only for the scene that stretched before me, but from a conversation I’d just had with Leslie Harris on her podcast about the need to keep moving, working and planning during the winter months. And I’d had a teensy bit of convincing to do.
I get it. I’m in the minority. There’s plenty of gardeners in warmer and colder climates who have no desire to garden during the winter months when the default indoor position is widely accepted and roundly defended.
Not to mention a damn sight warmer.
And I see those gardeners all the time – virtually. Instagram, my social media platform-of-choice, constantly suggests posts throughout the winter months that reflect and dream about the spring and summer months.
When it’s not suggesting lifting techniques for my aging face.
But that’s not why I started using Instagram. I’ve got books and magazines for dreaming. And I’m really good with my current choice of face cream.
Instagram originally offered this curious gardener the gateway drug of gardens in real time – which the books could not. I curated my feed to understand and measure seasons from gardeners and gardens I knew and respected throughout the US and the world for that reason.
I can’t do that if you’re showing me your ‘Profusion’ Zinnia in February and you live in Ohio. Now, if you’ve got them in a greenhouse or on a dining room table, that’s another story altogether. In that case I want to know how you pulled off that particular piece of black magic in case I want to dabble in a little witchcraft myself next year.
I get it. I’m in the minority.
Helleborus HGC® ‘Joker’
Words Spoken In Haste
So back to that Christmas Eve. Standing there, grinning like an idiot at the shapes and colors and textures before my eyes, I felt great thankfulness that my life in the garden isn’t end-capped by garden center pansies and kale displays. I felt real, palpable joy.
It is in these happy, idealistic moments (and others involving alcohol), that we must never – under any circumstances – grab our phones and shoot off our mouths using our thumbs.
I did. In that moment I wanted to champion the act of stepping outside in winter and enjoying the opportunities of this special season – and why you don’t need psychiatric help if you say things like that.
Two minutes later I had locked myself into a daily Instagram #whywintergarden challenge for the next three months that will either kill me or make me stronger. Much like winter.
Ever since, I’ve been sharing the plant stars in my Northern Virginia Zone 6b winter garden, techniques I use, gear that’s crucial, views I adore, creatures that visit, weirdness that happens, and basically, why the hell I’m out there on a daily basis. Besides forcing me to put my money where my mouth is, it’s also forcing me to learn skills in the digital world on the fly.
Unlike horticultural skills, this is knowledge that will most likely be eclipsed in six months’ time – but what the hell.
How Does the #WhyWinterGarden Challenge Work?
First, it’s not a countdown. It’s a count-up – a celebration – ending with the last day of winter, NOT the first day of spring. We spend so much time putting our heads down and getting through winter that we end up putting our heads down and getting through winter. It’s hard to appreciate anything in that position, and it’s equally hard to enjoy any part of one full quarter of a precious year if you’re ticking off days until spring.
I had this wild hair 85 days before the first day of spring on Christmas Eve. Therefore it wasn’t the Solstice, but Christmas day that became Day 1. That morning I took a minute [with wet hair and a roast in the oven] to grab a few greens of many textures and shapes outside for indoor decorations. And shared it. Having that winter bounty is one of the reasons I make the choices I do when planting.
Each day consists of a short video (in my feed), and an associated highlight pic in stories. I may ask a question in stories if it is applicable, and the results might be interesting to others — such as the results from the poll below. But more about that at the end of this post (plus a slightly sardonic IG tutorial for those who don’t dabble), because I’d love it if you helped share this message. Cast aside the dahlias and zinnias Influencers! Show us your REAL gardens in REAL time!
There’s winter and then there’s winter.
I’m not naïve. For the record, I separate winter into three distinct stages –
Early winter usually keeps you distracted with holiday fun and resolutions you can’t seem to keep, plus the last of the bulbs you’re crazy late about getting in.
By this point we may well have had snow and some very cold weather in my 6B Virginia garden. Last year, we experienced the three-day sudden freeze shared by so many. But for the most part, things are not too awful, and you optimistically feel like you’ve got this winter garden thing locked up.
One view of my lower garden in late December last year.
That’s when you pledge yourself to onerous challenges.
Mid-winter, aka “[In The Bleak] Midwinter, aka The Grey Times, is pretty grim. It’s as cold as it will probably be and we experience snow and ice storms.
But then again, there are snow and ice storms. If you’ve planted twisted trees like Corylus avellana ‘Contorta’, or Citrus poncirus in your front garden, you’ll be the subject of many neighborhood photo shoots. Here’s where you can plant for candy-colored barks and cool shapes. Here’s where the topography of your garden comes into [literal sharp relief] and fascinates you, or bores the living hell out of you because it’s so flat and dull.
View of the upper garden after a light snowfall in February.
Corylus avellana ‘Contorta’ (Harry Lauder’s Walking Stick) in another February
…and another
Perhaps that’s what missing in your summer garden and the plants stopped you from seeing it. You can’t beat the structural and design perspective that mid-winter gives you.
Late winter used to be the toughest on me. Mostly because I would visit my family in California at the end of February and beginning of March and see rosemary flowering, and maples in leaf, and then come home with excitement only to realize I was still six long weeks away from the green rapture. And my rosemary was dead.
But now I have planted so many late winter/early spring blooming plants and trees, that I feel saddened if I miss their blooms because I’m in California. Go figure.
Edgeworthia chrysantha ‘Snow Cream’
Hamamelis ‘Pallida’ in late February two years ago.
Skill Building & Perspective
I’m not a winter garden expert. Far from it. I’ve simply come to the very personal conclusion that its worth my time, effort, health and happiness to extend my outdoor life by extending my garden season.
It’s a conclusion easily dismissible by those who don’t. I know, I was one of them for a long time. It’s far less painful to say “I don’t do a winter garden,” than to look outside and see twenty pathetic Tête-à-tête daffodils poking their heads above an arctic tundra and making the entire scene more pitiable than it already is.
If you’re going to attempt it, it’s crucial to begin with the understanding that the winter garden is a completely different animal to the spring or summer garden, and should be designed to exemplify the moments of exquisite beauty present in the colder months, not to re-create something that cannot be re-created. Textures and shapes are key, but so is subtlety.
With thought and effort, those twenty doleful and disembodied Tête-à-têtes can become two hundred little flames interspersed with the fresh blossoms of hellebores under a canopy of red winterberries. And one year, standing with flushed, rosy cheeks and a broad smile across your face, you have a rapturous moment where you realize you’ve broken the back of it.
And then it’s game on.
Join Me on the Dark Side?
If you’re a winter garden enthusiast in a cold climate with a dormant season, I’d love it if you shared your winter garden ideas and plants with me on Instagram by hashtagging #whywintergarden and making sure I know where you garden, and in what USDA zone – so I can share them in my Stories @marianne.willburn . You can also DM (Direct Message) me. If you’re not in the US, your lowest average temperature would be helpful.
If you want to see what I’ve done so far, you can either see the reels/videos in my feed chronologically (by looking at my profile), or you can find snaps of each day in my story highlights under #WWG . (A super-quick tutorial for the IG neophytes who don’t know what the hell I’m talking about is at the end of this post).
For those of you who don’t garden in a cold climate with a dormant season, I’m sorry. I can’t believe I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re missing out, but I have.
And for those of you who want to sit this one out and observe (or perhaps ridicule me in the comments below) – again, I get it. I’m not sure where this crazy challenge will take me. As of this post I’m on Day 11. Perhaps I’ll get to Day 45 and start crying on camera.
But it’s more than likely my tears will have more to do with Instagram nonsense than the beauty that’s out there for the curious gardener to discover. – MW
Quick, but slightly sardonic, IG tutorial
If you’re not currently on Instagram and wish to dabble, it’s not hard to join at all.
Millennials, please look away as a Gen Xer tries to explain Instagram. This may be cringe-worthy.
Download the free app, choose a handle/name, and no doubt IG will suggest people for you to follow. Don’t be too quick to hit that button though — be discerning. Just because someone has an IG account doesn’t mean you need to follow it – including mine. Just because someone chooses to follow you doesn’t mean you have to follow them. Including me.
A screenshot of Wildside Garden’s IG profile as curated by Dianne Giles. You can look at all of their posts without following by searching for Wildside Garden, or choose to follow the account, and have the next post in your feed.
You can’t possibly see the feeds of 2,934 people when you open that app, so why the hell follow them? At least I hope you’re not spending that much time on social media. You can always unfollow someone you follow – happens to me all the time when influencers realize I’m not going to follow them simply for the sake of it. I also tend to unfollow the moment I sniff a political post. I’m not on IG for politics.
Use the search button (magnifying glass at bottom) to search for the gardeners you love. And remember to search for the gardener’s garden if it’s a named one. For instance, I’ve been following @keithwiley for years, hoping he’d post something other than the one shot of his face. Last week, the garden designer @guilfoyleannie mentioned that @wildsidegarden is an account managed and posted to by Dianne Giles – a gardener there. And it’s a glorious feed – a fantastic find. I follow some food writers I love too. Gardens and food go hand in hand.
You can also choose to follow a hashtag such as #wintergarden, or #whywintergarden. A hashtag is in essence, an index entry, collating all the posts over IG that have been tagged by their creators under that hashtag. When you search for that hashtag and select it, you’ll see the most popular posts from that category, more or less chronologically.
Here are the first few “entries” under #wintergarden if you search that hashtag. From here you might find some gardeners that interest you.
The accounts you follow will show up in a scrolling feed – along with ads for face cream and gray hair if you are over 50, cute children’s gear, pet gear, and painfully neutral home decor if you’re 25-40, and work out apps and expensive shampoos if you’re under 25. Though most in the latter category are on TikTok.
Clicking on that little home button at the bottom left brings you to the feeds of the accounts/hashtags you have chosen. And those face cream ads. Today, my feed started with this gorgeous edgeworthia already blooming at the Inner Temple garden in London @innertemplegarden . Up at the top, are additional ‘Stories’ you can scroll through if someone you follow has posted something there, by touching their profile pic.
When you are in your feed, there are additional rabbit holes you can go down up by touching the profile pics that come up (or touching one and then just swiping through), and seeing either what people have posted that will only last 24 hours, or what they wish to share from others (that will also only last 24 hours). This is one of the evil ways IG tries to keep you glued to your phone, just in case you miss someone’s story. So. Evil.
My #whywintergarden video reels/posts will remain on my feed until Instagram goes bankrupt or turns into X2, but an associated snap will be on stories for 24 hours and then dumped into the #WWG highlight category on my profile for a quick scanning of all the ideas/plants by those who want to see them. Quickly.
And don’t forget to post snaps yourself! Remember, we’ve got thousands of still lifes happening in our lives everyday — we just need to look for them. In the caption you can say something about the snap, or simply write a hashtag. From #whywintergarden (which says what it is) to #dammitjimimagardenernotaninfluencer (which says how you feel), anything goes.
Whew. That’s enough to get you started – and possibly piss you off. And I haven’t even started to explain reels. Bottom line, they’re videos with extra distracting bits like music, and animations. You might want to hold off on creating one of those – the Instagram Gods find it amusing to change the creation tools regularly just in case we’re all getting too comfortable in these newly acquired skills.
Yes, yes. The winter sunlight in the woodland is incomparable. The moss is on fire with vibrancy. The naked trees cast stark shadows, while the evergreens envelop me in quietude. I can’t bear to think about the gauziness of May; THIS moment is why I am a gardener.
That is so good to hear! – MW
Hedges.
Very much so. – MW
I don’t have Instagram, but I love this! You are so right, we need to stop looking at winter as just “something to get through.” I live in Virginia 7a, and there is plenty of good weather here to get outside and enjoy the plants and even tackle certain gardening tasks. I also appreciate your characterization of the three phases of winter; for me, January is the toughest, with the holidays in the rear view mirror and no bulbs blooming yet. But you are right, there should be more to winter than early bulbs. Your winter garden is gorgeous!
Thank you Mary. I’ve gone back and updated the post at the end with a quick but sardonic overview of how to start using Instagram if you are so inclined. January used to be a tough month for me, but I’ve got two large industry events that usually break it up, plus all the brush clearing, and so I feel like it races by!
M.,
You made an interesting case for the side move to Instagram . . . pictoral gardening exchanges in real time. I toddled over to your I-gram account. Holy Sheesh! [Folks, she has A LOT of pics!] I am daunted. Playing Show’n’Tell with you would be like trying to converse with Mark Twain as an equal.
I will explore over there. But it is new territory for me. (Dragons be there?)
Dragons always be there John, it’s social media. But I’ve found less dragons there than on most platforms. It may also be because I only follow gardens and gardeners (and occasional food writers), and that takes the personal and political edge off it. I’m there for information. Beautiful information sometimes, but information none-the-less. This truly is the one reason I got on it – real time – and is probably why I get so annoyed with seeing summer gardens in winter (unless you are showing the same view in two seasons – now, and then).
I’ve gone back and updated the post at the end with an IG tutorial for those who are dabbling. You may find it helpful, and I wrote it with tongue firmly placed in cheek. – MW
(I’m there too!)
As a dragon, or a writer? Both I suspect. xoxoxoxo Yes John, do follow Anne @annewareham for a taste of real-time frost, shapes, mystery and magic in a Welsh garden.
Happy to! Thanks for the link. As you know, I’m a fan of Anne’s posts and books.
Thank you, both of you. From Welsh Dragon. Xx
Yes, brown is a color too which is exactly what I wrote about recently in my Whistling Gardener post under the title of “50 Shades of Brown”. It never ceases to amaze me how beautiful a winter garden can be, even without the addition of flowers. We are lucky here in the Pacific Northwest with our mild zone 7 to 8 winter weather which allows us to interject broadleaf evergreens such as Sundance Choisya that boast bright yellow foliage or Color Guard Yucca (which should be hardy where you are in Virginia). Speaking of yellow foliage, my recent post “50 Shades of Yellow, the Sequel” should be enlightening for your readers. (Sorry about the shameless self-promotion).
Anyway, good for you for taking this task on with such gusto. Like everything else you attempt, I would expect nothing less! Cheers, Steve
You are forgiven Steve. And’s that just for living in the PNW and throwing that in my face. A magical place where winter gardens shine. I do grow Yucca ‘Colorguard’ – quite a lot of it and very hardy for me. I’d add Ligustrum ‘Sunshine’ to your excellent post on the yellow garden. – MW
Thanks for IG information. I’ll give it a try. -(John in Paeonian Spngs )
Great post!!!
To me planning for an interesting winter garden goes hand in hand with one my most important rules for my garden which is make it interesting to look at through the windows of my house! As I walk through my house I want there to be something in my garden that catches my eye as I look out from each room and in each season !! Living in a rural area I’m lucky not to need window coverings so I’ve got big views to my property. I’ve made a lot of progress but certainly have plenty of spots still to create!!
I too am only on instagram for select reasons – one being gardens – the other dogs and talk about rabbit holes! Anyway, very kind of you to put the instagram tutorial at the end of your post – I hope it gets some folks on that haven’t used it before.
Gayle – thanks for prompting me to do a post on the winter views outside our windows. So so so important! – MW
Great Rant, Marianne. Gardeners have to garden, no matter what anyone else thinks of our horticultural OCD. There are many days when my need to garden outweighs my common sense. If the weather can’t electrocute me or carry me off to the Land of Oz, I’m game. However, if there is ice and snow, you’ll find me in the recliner. We have yet to see winter in my corner of Texas, but I know the ice storms cometh and I dread the inevitable frost cloth wrestling matches.
I can only give you a little sympathy for those ice storms Jenny, due to the presence of BLOOMING ligularia in your feed. Or was it a farfugium? In any case, thanks for joining in – but be sure to post only one photo with the hashtag (instead of a collage) so I can share them. IG is prickly. – MW
There are so many delightful things about this article. I have heard you a few times on Leslie Harris’s into the garden podcast and enjoy your insight. This Christmas I did a 4 minute garden “tour” for my Fl family ( I’m been in VA 3 years) and it was more about imagining this and that plant than what was actually present in winter. Spring and fall is amazing ( I give thanks to the people who gardened here many years prior) but winter is an obvious blank space that I need to write in some structural plant names . Thank goodness for so many stone walls I inherited to have something besides my “leave the leaves” piles to look at. Your closing instructions of working and understanding Instagram is fantastically funny. I will go back a few more times as I’m right there with you figuring the fine details out. I turn to my teenagers and they can’t believe I don’t understand posting “stories”. Anyway, I will be on here reading more often. Such an enjoyable lighthearted read to learn from. By the way since the first time I heard you on LH I thought you had the loveliest voice. If your face cream ever goes awry, your voice that would make anyone want to listen to what you what you have to say, will carry you through.
Many thanks Jennifer. My voice definitely changes depending on how serious I am and/or how much fun I’m having — like laughing with Leslie. — MW
You may very well get me back on Instagram which I quit for some political reason I can’t remember exactly. Anyway, now that even Teslas are tarnished, enjoying Instagram again doesn’t make me feel as guilty… Two wrongs don’t make a right, of course, but I don’t drive a Tesla, so I’m good… ;->
Don’t plunge too deeply – I don’t want to be responsible for a social media addiction, and boy these platforms can rob us of time! – MW
Great article Marianne. I have loved your daily feed which is both encouraging, insightful, engaging and often funny. I love winter garden. I have a greater challenge living in rural New Hampshire, zone 4B-5A. The zone changes on a regular basis. Sometimes it appears to moving to 5B-6, but then we get a freeze and many plants are lost. I cannot work outside when there is significant snow and ice, but I do go out every day, or look out my window when it’s pouring rain or snowing and temperatures in the teen’s. The other day I snowshoed around the garden knocking our latest 14″ of snow off my 25 boxwoods. Many years ago, another avid gardener introduced me to the garden of Joe Eck and Wayne Wintererowd, who used to have an exquisite garden in Vermont. Sadly they are both deceased but their books remain, probably only available from out of print collectors. Their book A Year at North Year taught me that if a garden does not please the eye in winter it won’t please your eye in other seasons. The bones of the garden are what make it. It was the best advice I received as a beginning gardener some 30 plus years ago. Now when I can’t work outside I do study the garden thinking how to improve the “bones of it.” And how grateful I am in winter for the lovely multi-coloroed bark of the Stewartia, along with the shaggy trunks of dogwoods, Katsura’s strong sweeping branches, contorted larches, Magnolia’s fuzzy buds in winter, and the graceful twisting shapes Japanese maples always delight me. Arbors and fences, trellises and granite posts also become vital in a New England garden in January.
Thank you so much Maude – so glad our paths crossed at Dixter, and I’m very interested in reading A Year at North Year. I will will abebooks it today!
My stewartia is still so small after five years, but then, it went in as a seedling from a friend (and the deer had their way with it before I finally built a cage!). – MW
If you live and garden in the far north like I do, you have a firm understanding that the winter garden is all about form, structure and architecture with a bit of evergreen foliage thrown in for good measure. A recent visit to Longwood and several other public gardens in the Brandywine Valley made me salivate for all those broadleaf evergreens that we simply can’t do in the harsh winters of east central MN. Nonetheless, even here, there is always a reason to look at the garden on any given winter day. Just a wee bit longer here than it is for you! Spring is well on its way. Very much enjoy your writing!