In fall the Instagram feeds of many of our favorite gardeners, quite understandably, start to wither or move indoors. Not so that of Dutch garden designer Frank Heijligers. Indeed, much like the dames of imperial Russia, who, rather that retreating from the cold, donned furs and tiaras in anticipation of the social high season, Frank’s winter garden seemed to reach the height of its sparkling charm.
Enchanted, we decided to ask Frank, who grows grasses, perennials, trees, and shrubs at his nursery, Plantwerk, to divulge his secrets for a successful winter garden. Here are his nine tips for adding sparkle and moody color:
Above: Now a dramatic black, the once purple cones of Agastache ‘Black Adder’ still stand tall in the frosty winter garden.
“Successful winter gardens need a lot of plants with good structure in them,” says Frank. “The plants have to be strong and have more than one interest: nice foliage, bloom, color, seed head, change of color in fall, strong skeleton in winter.”
Showcase long-lasting seedheads.
Above: Like spectators at the ballet, crowds of Monarda ‘Croftway Pink’ seedheads watch a changing fall landscape.
Fill the gaps.
Above: Because plants with good structure tend to bloom later, Frank notes that the successful four-season garden “starts with having a little more patience in spring.” To fill in the gap, he uses bulbs. Alliums, which maintain a sculptural seed head after they have gone by, are a good choice. Above: One of Frank’s gardens in summer. Though lust and leafy, it still maintains a textured feel.
Consider frost-proof plants.
Above: A similar border garden in winter, when the regal heads of Phlomis take on a silver sheen.
“Hosta or Alchemilla mollis are plants that look good early on in the year, but with the first bit of frost, they collapse,” Frank says. “You need plants like Phlomis, Aster, Eupatorium, Veronicastrum, and Anemone combined with grasses like Deschampsia, Miscanthus, Sporobolus, and Festuca mairei to make the garden look good until March.”
Above: Another sculptural favorite: Veronicastrum ‘Pink Spike.’
Bonus: Birds love all the leftover seedheads in Frank’s hibernal garden.
If you want to start a horticultural fight, opine loudly at your next plant party about the best viburnums to grow. These flowering shrubs provoke strong opinions among the botanically inclined, and things could get ugly, fast. Dessert might be thrown. But consider our disciplined list of ten and hear us out. And bear in mind that there are almost 200 species to choose from, let alone cultivars and hybrids. Whether you want fruit, flowers, fall foliage (or all three), there is probably a viburnum for your gardening personality: extrovert, shy, down-to-earth, elegant, rambunctious, shape-shifting, or fragrantly alluring?
Above: Viburnum plicatum var. tomentosum ‘Summer Snowflake’.
But first: Why plant viburnums at all?
A range of sizes means that viburnums can stand in for trees in small spaces.
Multiple seasons of interest, from spring flowers to fall foliage and fruit (except in sterile species).
Flowering times that range from late winter to early summer, so you can build a collection.
The shrubs have interesting foliage with texture that rewards the detail-oriented gardener.
Viburnums that bear fruit offer ornamental interest in fall and winter, as well as food for the birds (and humans).
Kaleidoscopic fall colors, depending on the species you choose, and how much sun it receives.
Persistent winter fruits that feed birds when there is little else available.
1. Viburnum × bodnantense ‘Dawn’
Above: Viburnum × bodnantense ‘Dawn’ blooming as winter lingers.
At the end of winter, the exceptional fragrance of this tree-like hybrid viburnum is sweetly uplifting. It is a cross between V. farreri and V. grandiflorum, whose clusters of flowers start as deep rose-colored buds before paling in full bloom. The tubular flowers make you look twice, wondering whether a lilac has gone mad and erupted while there is snow on the ground. Flowering on bare branches, this earliest of viburnums is elegantly dramatic and more tolerant of frost than its grandiflorum parent. Usually sterile, few or no fruit will form, helping to ensure that this non-native viburnum does not spread. Viburnum × bodnantense is hardy from USDA zones 4 – 8.
2. Korean spice viburnum, Viburnum carlesii
Above: V. carlesii buds are pink, before opening into full-white bloom.
Above: The perfumed pom-poms of V. carlesii.
If scent is your thing, a must-have viburnum is the intensely fragrant Koreanspice. In mid spring its deep pink buds open into pale pink flowers that shift gradually into pure white. The flowers can be turned into an equally fragrant syrup, fermented wild soda, or perfumed honey (simply substitute the flowers in our Lilac Honey Recipe). Koreanspice is a slow-growing shrub that responds well to clipping (like a boxwood) and makes a showy ball of flowers when spring rolls round. Be sure to prune and shape it right after blooming, since all viburnums bloom on new wood (so, if you prune in fall, you will miss the next spring’s flowers). Extremely cold-hardy Viburnum carlesii is hardy from zones 2 – 8.
We’ve enjoyed garden designer Lindsey Taylor‘s way with both words and flowers since 2013, when she was a contributor to this site. Recently, we admired her rambunctious cinderblock garden, teeming with tough, hard-wearing beauties, in Newburgh, NY, where she’s based. And just this past fall, we were captivated by her new book, Art in Flower, which collects 40 of the elegant floral arrangements she designed for her monthly Wall Street Journal column, “Flower School.” Each composition is paired with a famous work of art, as well as a short explanation of how the masterpiece inspired her design. It’s a telling conceit: For Lindsey, plants are her paints, and the garden, her canvas.
Her chosen medium is 3D and multi-sensory. “I once visited a garden designed by a very famous designer I like. I couldn’t figure out why I felt so uncomfortable in it until I realized that even though everything was blooming, there was no sound. No buzzing of insects or birds,” Lindsey recalls. “I later found out the client insisted on having the garden sprayed for bees (they are allergic), ticks, and mosquitoes. It was claustrophobic to be in and devastating to experience such a great landscape of pollinator plants in silence.”
Below, a portrait of an artist as a garden designer.
Photography by Lindsey Taylor, unless noted.
Above: “I have a natural tendency to let plants mingle and weave together, and duke it out amongst themselves. I like to tinker away at my own garden, as if it was a large never-finished abstract painting. I stand back, study it and keep going back in, adding a slash of color here and removing a brush stroke there—and eventually it all starts to sing together as it matures.” Photograph by Ngoc Minh Ngo.
Your first garden memory:
Picking daffodils with my Granny at their farm outside of Toronto. Narcissi and the many varieties to grow are really a favorite, particularly species and ones with finer foliage.
Above: In a walled garden in Hudson Highlands designed by Lindsey, a Damson plum tree enjoys a soft landing.
A garden needs to have a soul. It needs to move in the wind, change, have fragrance, feed the birds and other insects and critters, and breathe. When I visit a garden where too much control and need for perfection is in play, I find it unpleasant to be in. If it’s sprayed or watered to stay alive, or if it’s at odds with its environment, I’m not interested. All plants, of course, need a helpful hand with watering and weeding to get established in the first few years, but my goal is to let them sort it out happily on their own once they’ve settled in.
Currently in my own garden I’m healing the land from a recent building construction project. My objective is to merge the line between the cultivated and the natural areas and have the house sit quietly as if it were dropped from the sky and nestled in. I’m working with the existing soil, planting tightly to avoid bringing in mulch and using only wood chips from dead trees we had to clear on the property.
Plant that makes you swoon:
Above: Tall Angelica gigas.
Plants with fragrance. Plants that sway in the wind. Vertical plants that tower up through a dense planting. And plants that feed the birds who bring their precious song to a garden.
Plant that makes you want to run the other way:
Japanese knotweed and other invasive aggressive bullies.
Favorite go-to plant:
Above: A crowd of Viburnum ‘Mary Milton’, Hydrangea aspera, and Rosa ‘Cecile Brunner’ nearly obscures a door in the walled garden.
