We listened carefully to the sage whisperings of the firs before we ventured into our woodland with saw and spade. In fact, two years pasted before my husband and I could bring ourselves to the actual operation of digging out some of the lush ground-corers so that paths could he staked out. Natives such as vancouveria and Oregon grape had to go, but trillion’s, ferns and clintonia we carefully transplanted to other areas.
Today, native plants still predominate in our woodland garden. But, with the forest giants’ consent, we’ve introduced modest plants from other lands. The path wh6re our lawn ends and the woodland garden begins we’ve edged with dwarf rhododendrons – hybrids of R. williamsianum. These dwarfs have intriguing oval leaves and in late April and May pink and yellow hanging hells.
This rhododendron walk leads to a favorite spot, the garden bench, where we’ve planted drifts of little bulbs and dainty evergreen flowering plants for year-round interest. Here, in early March, a colony of Snow Bunting crocus opens star-shaped blooms in lovely defiance of cold winds. Here, too, are snowdrops, which are followed by the lovely fringed pink bells of shortias and schizocodons. Both of the latter plants have shiny evergreen leaves which turn bright red in winter. Mid-April coaxes out the ethereal pink bloom of the schlippenbachi azaleas. These plants appreciate the protection of a Douglas fir tree.
In June, the low, spreading mounds of Gumpo azaleas tucked behind the garden bench are studded with large pink and white flowers. Their evergreen foliage is handsome the year long. Midsummer brings tall spires of foxgloves, which reseed among ferns.
In late August, it’s pleasant to sit on the garden bench out of the broiling sun and listen to the rustle of the first falling leaves. The hardy cyclamen hear it too and promptly come forth with a few jaunty blooms and numerous buds. We take the hint and water their dry bed, and before many days watch a sheet of white blooms unfold. By mid-October the pretty marbled leaves of these plants cover the ground.
Along the lower woodland path, the colchicums, too, heed the rustle of autumn leaves, and soon their delicately tinted mauve blooms are to be seen hovering near the edges of the walk like pale wraiths. First to open are the soft lilac blooms of C. autumnale, followed by the rare and lovely white variety of the same species called album plenum. The flowers of the latter are double with several rows of narrow petals. Finally, just across the path, a small colony of another variety, The Giant, closes the entire performance with large blooms of lilac-rose.
A little later on, on this same path, that color-spendthrift October paints the foliage of western dogwood and vine maple in rich, intense hues. which stand out sharply against the backdrop of firs.
A third path leads up a gentle slope to the sunny edge of the woodland. Our latest project here was the placing of mossy rocks as a setting for dwarf species rhododendrons, But these fascinating small shrubs presented a problem. Should we give in to our mania for collecting one of a kind or should we plant fewer varieties in order to achieve eye-pleasing massed effects? Limited supplies of some varieties settled the problem for us. In a Canadian nursery we found one small plant of the rare, yellow-flowered R. hanceanum nanum, and we finally located a few specimens of R. cremastrum with its plum-pink bells and R. sargentiantun with its wee yellow blooms and tight habit of growth.
Easier to find were blue-flowered R. impeditum and R. fastigiatumÑas well as our five plants of R. pemakoense, a delightful pygmy smothered in showy, lavender-pink blooms in early April. These three varieties we grouped for massed effect, but it will take several more years before they cover their allotted space.
Since our woodland garden is large, the plants must be able to get along with minimum care. Fortunately, the natives including clintonia, Oregon grape, disporum, violets and ferns – need no care at all. We simply leave all twigs and fallen leaves on the ground to provide moisture-holding humus. Nature has been taking care of these wildlings thus for many years. Why interfere?
But the dwarf rhododendrons do need some care. Because we want these plants to remain dwarf and compact, we’ve given them a spot exposed to several hours of afternoon sun. As a result, they need frequent watering in summer as well as a yearly mulch. The mulch consists of dried fronds of bracken and rotted wood from old tree stumps which we gather in the woodland each full. In fact, we mulch all our rhododendrons and azaleas with this material. We use no commercial fertilizers. Then, too, when the rhododendron blooms fade, the entire trusses are pinched- off to prevent seed formation.
As for planting lime for rhododendrons, we prefer fall since the younger plants establish well during our mild, rainy Oregon winters. However, because dwarf species often vary in size and color of flower, we selected and planted some of these species while they were in bloom. We especially sought clarity of color in the blue-flowered varieties.
The dainty shortias and schizocodons yau happy with a mulch of fir needles. which drop from a nearby tree. Although they are shaded from the hot sun, they still need several summer waterings. Planting of these was done in fall.
Of our bulbous plants, the hardy cyclamen, colchicum and snowdrops are the most carefree. We planted our first cyclamen corms while in full bloom, with their tops 2 inches below ground. They continued to bloom and have increased in size and vigor. No special soil or fertilizer has been added. As the corms do not multiply, increase is from seed. This year, we have flats of seedlings of C. neapolitanum album coming along and also the rose-colored variety of this charming cyclamen. Colchicums thrive under exactly the same culture as hardy cyclamens. These we planted in August while they were still in a dormant condition.
Like the colchicums and cyclamen, the snowdrops (Galanthus elwcsi) seem at home under woodland conditions. Enough afternoon sun reaches them to ripen the foliage in late spring. The bulbs, planted five years ago, have multiplied readily and probably should be lifted and divided in a year or two so they will not be overcrowded.
Crocus, we’ve learned, are favorites of mice. Indeed, all that remained of our first planting were a few dry husks. So the following fall, we planted the corms in wire baskets. And now, for the last two springs; we’ve enjoyed this small drift beside the bench.
Foxgloves, on the other band, send seeds far beyond their allotted space. Thus, we’ve had to pull up many of these plants to prevent the coarse leaves from smothering small neighbors. But other than this, they ask for no attention.
How well we have succeeded in making our woodland garden a place of beauty I do not know. But each year the lofty firs hold baby robins in their limbs and foxgloves beckon to the hummingbirds. There’s the good smell of damp mold and the scent of the first trillium pushing through the fallen leaves. A distant snow-capped mountain peak is framed by dogwood blossoms and a bright-eyed squirrel reports, “All is well.”
