It has taken an extra month this year, but the hellebores have finally come into their own. Over the past few days, I have made circuits of the garden, gently raking away the dead leaves that camouflage new growth and clipping away last year’s ratty old foliage to free the flowers. Newly liberated, they open up their petals each morning to enjoy the pale, intermittent spring sunshine.
The big clump of Christmas roses or Helleborus niger in the back garden has been wide awake for weeks and the flowers are now blushing pink, something they do in their dotage. In the next few days, I will divide them, as the clump is big enough now to be sliced into thirds and spread around. I want to put at least one division in the shadier portion of the strip between the front sidewalk and street. Next year the big flowers will delight the neighborhood dog walkers in late January or early February, when both dog walkers and flower lovers will be starved for the sight of something growing.
I have long been afraid of dividing hellebores, but I have mastered that fear at long last. The triumph probably has less to do with increased wisdom than the relatively high cost of new hellebores. As with most other plants, successful hellebore division is simply a matter of digging up the clump, together with enough of a root ball so that the whole thing is easy to handle. Once the clump is up and out, you slice through the root ball with a garden knife, making sure that each of the two or three pieces has plenty of roots attached. Thoughtful aftercare, including regular watering and mulching of the transplanted clumps, is a necessity. For the most part, though, hellebores look after themselves.
Early spring is the best time to divide Christmas rose. Helleborus orientalis or Lenten rose should wait until very early fall, when division will spur root and leaf growth. Dividing plants at optimal times is a very good idea, but I think the best time to divide is when the gardener has time to do so. With sufficient water, shade and attention, even a Lenten rose that is divided and replanted in July will survive and thrive.
My Lenten roses, having little faith in me, have also taken the initiative and multiplied, producing scores of baby plants. In the past I have transplanted the babies and a few, from several years ago, are finally showing signs of producing flowers. The problem with hellebores is that they can take a relatively long time to get from seed to bloom. This is why most people prefer to buy them as mature plants. Still, I love the serendipity of these chance seedlings. Pollinated by anonymous early spring bees, the young hellebore offspring have infinite potential when it comes to flower color and configuration. I can’t wait to see what emerges from my serendipitous hellebore nursery.
Putting a Christmas rose in the front strip is only part of my ultimate aim for the area that some call the “hell strip.” In various places in the garden are crocuses and snowdrops that have multiplied nicely over the years. They are blooming now in all their splendor, begging to be divided and added to the strip.
Snowdrops are best divided while they are “in the green” and still visible as their flowers fade. Snowdrops and crocuses are not called “spring ephemerals” for nothing. In less than six weeks, the grass-like leaves will disappear and unless the spots are marked, which I often forget to do, the bulbs will be hard to find.
My favorite crocus is a natty purple and white striped variety called ‘Pickwick’. Several good-sized clumps of them have prospered over the years in various garden spots and I aim to spread them around to less favored locations. Last week I dug up a big handful of light purple “tommie” crocuses—Crocus tommasianus—from the backyard and installed them under a maple tree in the front strip. These particular tommies were sprouting at random in the back lawn, having been planted by squirrels that liberated them from their original location. Squirrel landscaping occasionally creates interesting garden effects, but in this case, the tommies are better off under the maple tree.
I am also moving a few clumps of early-blooming daffodils, which are lurking under the privet hedge and will provide much more joy if they are freed from that environment once and for all. I have a history of forgetting to do so, but this year, I vow to change my pattern of seasonal indolence and actually get the dividing done.
The plants and I wish for a few warm, sunny spring days before the temperature and humidity levels begin their annual ascent. In reality, though, gardening is what happens while you are wishing for better weather. The spring clean-up continues.