Enough already! Christmas was celebrated more than eight weeks ago; it is now time to get out in the garden!
What garden? Where? Not even Molly can find it under the snow. Normally, she is very meticulous on her walkabouts in the yard, but this snow has thrown her for a loop.
Most of you know from reading my column, Molly is blind and has been for much of her life. Forewarned of her impending condition but wanting her to live a full life, I expanded her training early on. She is a big dog and a working breed — definitely not designed to languish indoors.
Initially, John was not crazy about allowing Molly anywhere near the garden. But I persisted, teaching her that to place her “thunder paws” (a.k.a. her big feet — all four of them!) amongst our plants was a definite no-no. Quick to learn, she easily differentiates now between the feel of the grass or bark mulch paths and the soft soil in the garden bed.
Fast forward to this past week — and all of Molly’s training has gone out the window! Walking in snow, everything feels the same under her feet. Hence, she is currently unwittingly marching straight through the beds and has to “bounce off” the rhodo to follow the bend in the front path.
Lucky for me, my cyclamens are sequestered behind an accent rock, and Molly can determine the rock is not where she should be treading. I would hate for Molly to flatten them since they are in bloom right now, providing me with a much-needed spiritual uplift to this unending winter. Each foray outdoors these days includes a stop to admire the delightful pink blooms that are nodding over their snow-white blanket.
Cyclamens belong to the primrose family, and like many of the primroses, some of the cyclamen species — such as mine, Cyclamen coum — are winter-flowering. Such a bonus for us garden-starved plant enthusiasts.
This cyclamen is slowly carpeting a small area under one of my maples, Acer campestre, adding its variegated leaf pattern to the dark burgundy of another groundcover, Ajuga reptans ‘Atropurpurea’ — or bugleweed. The maple does its part by keeping some of the snow off the plants underneath.
The dainty flowers of all cyclamen species are pendant — meaning they hang down. They consist of five reflexed petals — petals that are swept back towards the stem — exposing the stamens. Colours can range from purest of white to a bloody red depending on species. Some have flowers that are stained a dark colour around the exposed throat, usually a darker pink or burgundy. Others are not.
There are about 20 species in this genus. They are all native to Europe, found along the shores of the Mediterranean Sea, as well as in western Asia. A few of the species are fragrant. Mine isn’t, but then I am not all that inclined to sink to my knees in wet snow no matter how fragrant a flower is. Not good for arthritis.
Many cyclamen are hardy in Zones 6 to 9. There are a few species that are Zone 9 or 10, however, so be careful. The tender varieties will not survive outdoors given our winter temperatures. But all species prefer part or dappled shade.
They also need fairly regular watering, but do not like to have wet feet. Adding a little sand or small-sized grit in the planting hole will keep your plant happy.
Yep, thankfully none of Molly’s big paws have found my cyclamens as yet. With its display of pretty pink blooms, I can enjoy a tiny breath of gardening euphoria. These poor man’s orchids are definitely giving this poor, garden-starved enthusiast a much-needed boost in spirit of orchid proportions.
Leslie Cox co-owns Growing Concern Cottage Garden in Black Creek. Her column appears every second Friday.
