It sounds funny, but our late winter is late, or perhaps better, it's "been delayed by a couple weeks." Shockingly, we're expecting a horrible 1 to 3 inches of snow this Friday night. On the heels of that nasty 14 days of subfreezing cold right after New Year's Day, any hint of winter is another slap in the face here in Upstate South Carolina.

There are just hints of typical late winter delight in the garden now:

To me, the only ornamentally redeeming quality of the Angelina rock stonecrop (Sedum reflexum 'Angelina') is its winter coloring, and here was a delightful display. From December to March it becomes golden chartreuse with blushes of red and orange. Nice.

Surpringly, the foliage of Italium arum (Arum italicum var. italicum) acme through the bitter cold this month beatifully. It looks too luscious and tropicalesque considering how the rest of the garden looks!

This puppy should be in full flower by the thrid week in January, but this year only the first hints of yellow blooms are seen on the mounded thickets of winter jasmine (Jasminum nudiflorum).

Sadly, I'm even hard-pressed to smell any fragrance on the just-waking-up winter honeysuckle (Lonicera fragrantissima).

Other plants are inconsistently beginning to bloom, such as on lowermost, protected branches, as with the Jelena hybrid witchhazel (Hamamelis x intermedia 'Jelena') and a Higan cherry (Prunus x subhirtella).

One of the first winter-flowering trees I ever learned and saw was the Persian Ironwood (Parrotia persica). And for that reason I remained enamored with it every January and February. Red flowers that are nearly blackened maroon are such a treat. It's gonna be a grand Groundhog's Day this year!

It is much too early for any andromeda shrubs to be blooming, but little by little you can see the swelling of the flower buds on the Japanese pieris (Pieris japonica). What a great contrast in texture and subtle colorings.

You know, even the Lenten roses (Helleborus spp.) are late and scarce this year...although the stinking hellebore (Helleborus foetidus) is ready to bloom and smell up the neighborhood.

Snowdrops (Galanthus spp.) are blooming strong, but there is something so exciting and hopeful about the appearance of daffodils. On sunny days that are chilly and windy, it's fun to spy on them to monitor their inch-by-inch progression out of the soil.

In the Deep South, it is not uncommon for a yearly winter bout with temperatures one or two nights down to 5, 10, or 15 degrees. In 2010, however, the persistent Arctic blast of bitter cold in the eastern U.S. plummeted and remained. Because of the severity and duration of this cold, many Southern hardy plants took a beating. Although some foliage or bud damage is evident now, other damage may not manifest itself until March and April. As new leaves emerge, we'll truly see the extent of cold's burn on twigs, root crowns and surface-dwelling bulbs, etc.

The staple of the Southern winter is the camellia (Camellia japonica). Cold damage on these slow-growing evergreen shrubs result in leaf and flower bud burn. Most disheartening this time of year is the lost of flowers. Fully killed buds turn brown and will not open sadly, but those surviving the early January cold will have pretty blossoms with brown centers (the tip of the flower bud that was most nipped by cold). Don't prune until late March at the earliest here in the Piedmont, if at all. Allow spring to return and nature to cause natural leaf drop on harmed branches. Only after new growth emerges in April will you know the true extent of damage and then a light pruning can reinvigorate new sprouts across the camellia bush.

Even some cold-hardy palms may have been beaten up. As long as the crownshaft on the palm trunk (the growing tip from where all fronds emerge) is not fully frozen or broken, the palm will live. This European fan palm (Chamaerops humilis) looks horrible, though, and pruning off foliage in spring will likely leave a scrawny specimen that will need May, June and July to really rejuvenate lots of perfect leaves.

Hardy prickly pear cacti (Opuntia spp.), many sacrifice some pads each winter anyways, where particularly scalded by the extended New Year's cold. If the succulent tissues are not slimey and do not smell of sulfur, do not do any pruning. Bear with the ugliness until spring; in fact leaving the damaged pads and foliage on cold-damaged plants provides a bit more protection and insulation from future cold in winter. Remember, if cold happens again, you'd much rather have they already-burnt plant parts take the brunt of cold again, not the living, tidy foliage you just revealed after a pruning.

Crinum lilies really were nailed. Unfortunately, this clump was trimmed tidy in early winter and was not covered in mulch leading into the Arctic cold blast. Under the bulb "tents", the plant tissue is soft and slimey, and I smelled rotting goo. In this case, with no protection, I'd remove the debris to wipe or spray away the rotting plant tissues and allow the clump to air dry on a warm winter afternoon. Then put 4-6 inches of mulch over it. This crinum will have to rejuvenate from the few surface bulbs remaining as well as sprout new plants from roots and root crowns. Sad to say, flowering will be reduced this summer since so many many bulbs were fried and rotted.

To clarify, if the crinum clump had no signs of soft, rotting and smelling bulbs, I'd do nothing to the clump other than adding some mulch around it for further cold protection. Dried leaves, stumps and messy debris in the winter landscape naturally protects plants from direct exposure to cold.

From the haphazard unsightly foliage burn of the barrenworts (Epimedium spp.)...

to the fried mats of chartreuse-colored creeping jenny (Lysimachia nummularia) now a crusty brown, just hold off on doing any clipping or tidying, however annoying or antsy the garden situation is.

The golden brown fronds on holly fern (Crytomium falcatum) are actually a visual treat, reminiscent of autumn. Plus, even though some holly berries (Ilex verticillata 'Winter Gold') yielded their watery plumpness and exploded or shriveled, there is some waning glimpse of interest.

On the bright side, at least the spring bulbs weren't hammered to the point of killed flowers. (That's something for February's cold to murder). Bear with the ugly leaf tip burn and just remember we plant spring bulbs for their blossoms, not their foliage (usually).

We had a 'Yankee Winter'. Everything is about 2 weeks behind in their usual winter displays. In fact, the condition of plants makes me think of a garden this time of year in central Illinois or eastern Pennsylvania than the Piedmont of South Carolina. :(

It seems all of the eastern United States has been plagued by a wet winter thus far, and although high temperatures in the 40s in Charlotte is below-normal and COLD, it seems highs in the mid-20s in Minneapolis is above average...so I guess no generalizations on the winter temperature regime can yet be made.

This all made me think about what my grandmother used to do for the start of the New Year. She'd record the weather temps and overall daily conditions for each of the first twelve days of January, in her attempt to forecast the weather for the year.  Why not? I do nothing other than stare at the Christmas tree, so I'd thought I'd share my similar prognostication plans:

If I recall correctly, the prognostication is inversely made on the first twelve days. January 1^st's weather conditions magically forecast what will happen in December 2010, and January 2^nd's is assigned to November, and so on, so that January 12^th's weather reveals what January 2010 is all about.

So, I'm prepping my journal for the New Year here and will fill in data as January's first twelve days unfold.

January 2010 (Jan. 12) should be:

February 2010 (Jan. 11) should be:

March 2010 (Jan. 10) should be:

April 2010 (Jan. 9) should be:

May 2010 (Jan. 8) should be:

June 2010 (Jan. 7) should be:

July 2010 (Jan. 6) should be:

August 2010 (Jan. 5) should be: way below normal temps and dry...

September 2010 (Jan. 4) should be: very cold, dry, but sunny.

October 2010 (Jan. 3) should be: sunny but very cold and dry.

November 2010 (Jan. 2) should be: below normal temps, windy and dry.

December 2010 (Jan. 1) should be: average temps, with ample sunny days.

Does anyone else know or enjoy a regional "voodoo-y" weather prognostication? I think grandma also had some saying about Easter Sunday's weather as a forecast for the growing season or something...

I see some of the more "designer" wreaths that garden centers quickly and inexpensively make, and I cringe. It's the usual white-tip painted pine cones atop a fir wreath with a few (cheap) sprigs of too-tiny white pine or flattened spray of arborvitae.

Purchase the most basic of wreaths and embellish it yourself with goodies around your own garden landscape.

This wreath cost $7.99 + tax. The clippings of evergreens and hollies cost nothing other than sniffles and wet shoes. Plus, making your own wreath composition adds value to your decorations and certainly gets you in the mood for Christmas.

I gathered three plant materials: holly, golden falsecypress, and maidenhairgrass. I look for contrast in color, leaf size/shape and texture. Alternative branches of southern magnolia (and their seed pods), berried tips of eastern red cedar or the blue-tinted foliage of a Grey Owl Juniper or Arizona cypress would make for a nice composition, too. (hint: if you love the color of blues and silvers in a wreath, avoid spruces, as their needles literally shatter after they quickly dry).

I began with taking two short sprigs of the golden falsecypress (Chamaecyparis) and wired them together with a long piece of bendable florist wire. A twist in the middle of a 14" wire left ample "tails" to then secure the springs deep into the structure of the pre-made fir wreath.

 I placed four areas of gold around the ring, always orienting the most yellowed foliage outwards. You'll find that many foliage plants that receive amply sunlight will have the most intense colors, including the south-side of a tree.

No Christmas wreath is complete without red. I never use a bow, as I enjoy seeing a natural, jam-packed wreath with all kinds of stuff. I removed any mildewed leaves as needed and searched for a "front" for each holly sprig, hoping each branches' natural curve could match the curve of the wreath. Wiring the sprigs into the wreath, the holly berries were set atop the gold of the falsecypress for increased contrast and highlight. Once done, I came back with a scissors and clipped off holly leaves that blocked the view of the red berries.

At this point, with the wreath embellished with just red and yellow, it looks pretty sweet. If I wanted to add a red bow, it would add that finishing touch to make it look complete--having three components of interest (gold foliage, red berry and red ribbon).

I chose to try the seed heads of maidenhairgrass (Miscanthus). I had noticed in the past that the plumes remained tight and broom-like on the plants on humid days. On warm, dry winter days, these same plumes would curl.

First wiring 3 to 5 seed plumes together with wire and then tucking in five "star-like" locations on the wreath, enough visual interest was created.

Here's how it looked immediately after completing on the work-area door. Note how the moist morning air has the grass plumes tight and broom-like.

Add, here's the finished product moved to the front entrance door. It was a warm 60-degree day when this photo was taken, and you see how the grass plumes have fluffened and curled.  It's like a barometer. In the morning the plumes are tight, and usually by mid-afternoon they are dry and curled; tight and broomy again by 7 pm.

Merry Christmas.

When the callery pears (Pyrus calleryana) FINALLY start changing their leaves to red, you know it's close to Christmas...at least in the Southeast.

I had hoped to overwinter my $10 majesty palm (Ravenea glauca) outdoors this winter since so far the fall was mild in South Carolina, but I really got sick of seeing a palm when it was in the 40s and I had just chucked out my pumpkin. So, after 30 minutes of root cutting and breaking the container, out it came.

Time for some bulbin'.

The local box store was already teeming with all the Christmas stuff you could poosible cringe at upon a trailer home, but I noticed all the fall bulbs were cast off to the side and marked off 50%.

Drool. So, Narcissus 'Dutchmaster' and 'Ice Follies' were purchased alongside a nine-pack of ornamental kale and some yellow pansies. Investment? $15 and some coinage.

I'm not a fan of solid yellow flowers. So even though I bought 'Dutchmaster', I decided to plant them in a separate container so when they flower next March I can display/hide them as needed.

This 3-gallon sized pot would be nothing but the daffodils. I filled the bottom with potting soil to a depth of about 4 inches and laid the first tier of bulbs.

Then, another 2 inches of soil was added to partially cover these four bulbs and set up the foundation for the next tier of bulbs. This allows many, many bulbs to be packed into a container if desired, and it also prolongs the flowering display. Bulbs planted more deeply emerge and flower weeks later than the bulbs at the top of the container only 4 inches deep.

I think 24 bulbs were rammed into the container, and after a eulogy and soil tamping, all was done. See ya.

I hold much more regard for my larger twin set of containers since they can hold a lot more plants and more interesting compositions can be created. This winter display wasn't gonna be too extravagant, as last year I had to move and cover and heat my plants in January when the mercury dipped to 8 F. No thanks.

Simple but interesting enough. So this season it's a container of boring winter-staples divided into thirds in each container.

Out came surprisingly a lot of soil as I dug the hole (the entire third) for the Ice Follies daffodil, a mid-season bloomer with white and yellow flowers and hopefully done flowering before Easter.

Stacking the bulbs into two different tiers, 18 comprised the daffodil display into each container and buried with about 6 inches of soil. R. I. P.

For some reason I LOVE to see spring bulbs popping up through the soil, so this year no top-planting of violas. I wanna see each bulbs poke through the soil starting in mid-January.

I quickly popped out all the plants and placed them atop the soil in their respective third to see if it looked acceptable. Ehhh, sure. I was running out of time with the setting December sun and the football game started in 30 minutes.

In they went, watering followed to moisten the quasi-dry peat soil mix and then the whirlwind clean-up and sweeping of the balcony. I don't think the neighbor was home downstairs, so he didn't see the rainstorm of dirt. Oops, I didn't read the lease.

All done. Maybe a watering once a week, and those stupid pansies better keep on blooming. I actually find the kale much more interesting in color, form and texture.