Gibbs Gardens

“Jared, we have to go see this garden in Georgia.” On the phone was Mom, and she was telling me about where she read in an early 2012 Southern Living that Gibbs Gardens was about to open its doors to the public for the first time ever. I had never heard of the garden, but she shared about how the article said 5 million daffodils had been planted. I was on board.

So, we planned to meet up the first weekend in March that year for the opening weekend. That Friday night was a bit crazy as vehement storms passed through with rain and hail. At one point, it was so rough we were even discussing going to the hallway or stairs in the hotel. But, the storms passed, and we woke the next morning to find the sun shining.

I told my parents we had to get to Gibbs Gardens early because since this weekend was the first time the garden was open, I knew it would be packed. I had travelled to many gardens before and sometimes been turned away when parking lots were full. So, I knew being just an hour north of Atlanta, there would be crowds. But, when we arrived, we were one of three cars in the parking lot. Haha! We had the whole place to ourselves! I should note in later years when I’ve gone, the parking lot is now packed and people are running to get the good photograph spots without any people in them. So, we certainly lucked out this weekend.

Walking through the garden, the reputation of a world-class garden certainly lived up. There were daffodils everywhere. Millions of them. The website states that over the years with division the garden likely has over 20 million Narcissus on site, which is just a mind boggling number of blooms. I’ll let the photos tell more of the story below.

I would never wish low attendance numbers on a garden, but it sure was nice to be some of the first people there that morning enjoying the garden by ourselves.

One design feature used at Gibbs Gardens was curvilinear lines. They swayed and curled through the landscape, often following the topography of the hills.

I always love to see Narcissus planted on hills because passers-by can better see into their faces.

Just like the Greek myth, these Narcissus admire their own beauty in the pond reflection.

The plantings at Gibbs Gardens were grandiose where ribbons of cultivars were planted on the hillsides and there were flowers as far as the eye could see. Notice the hillside in the distance and check out the next photo.

Here is that hillside upon closer inspection. We were so happy to see that the storms didn’t pound the flowers down too bad.

While cultivars weren’t labelled, occasionally I would see one I knew like these ‘Ice Follies’.

Narcissus plantings also provide a nice backdrop for family portraits of Mom and Dad. :-)

It was nice to see how other plants were integrated in with the Narcissus plantings. Here Edgeworthia, Chamaecyparis, and a hiding coral bark Acer palmatum ‘Sango Kaku’ are surrounded by daffodils.

I adore Edgeworthia chrysantha for its winter perfume and clusters of fuzzy yellow flowers. As a member of the Thymelaeaceae, they have this cool feature where some branches will have three shoots instead of the typical one or two of most species.

Narcissus can be planted beneath deciduous trees to provide color in early spring and brighten these dappled spots before the trees leaf out.

I enjoyed the subtle color echo here between the orange cups of the Narcissus and the golden marcescent foliage of the Fagus grandifolia.

Gibbs Gardens also featured a tranquil Japanese-styled garden.

A broader shot of the Japanese garden reveals plants integrated with rocks, water, and statuary.

This planting is so simple yet effective—the bold foliage of three Rohdea japonica in a fibrous mat of Ophiopogon japonicus ‘Nana’.

Acorus gramineus ‘Ogon’ snakes through this planting and echos the golden Chamaecyparis along the pond edge.

At the top of the property is the Manor House Gardens, which are planted with winter color like Viola.

An arbor near the house was planted with Viola, Acorus, and Euphorbia to provide late-winter interest.

Gibbs Gardens was the first time I had ever seen parsley used as a groundcover underneath tulips. I thought it a clever idea to hide their sometimes lanky bases.

I saw another one of my favorite winter flowering shrubs at Gibbs Gardens, Corylopsis pauciflora. The numerous small flowers on this dense shrub form a buttery haze.

A close up of the pink buds and emerging yellow flowers of Corylopsis pauciflora, or buttercup winter hazel.

Even in their fall, Camellia flowers are beautiful. This one planted near the Manor House I suspect to be ‘La Peppermint’.

Walking down from the house to leave we saw more mass plantings of Acorus. I liked the subtle color echo here between Edgeworthia and Acorus gramineus ‘Minimus Aureus’.

Again, more use of curvilinear lines in the landscape with Acorus gramineus ‘Ogon’.

And, I even admired here where the moss and Acorus shared a similar hue.

One last shot of the incredible plantings of Narcissus at Gibbs Gardens. It was a great weekend with my parents, and I’ll never forget of seeing millions of daffodils in flower.

An Auger, The Best Purchase of 2018

One of the best purchases I made last year was an auger that I could attach to a cordless drill, a thought that hit me as I was dividing abandoned ‘Grand Primo’ Narcissus I discovered on an abandoned backroad.  Two clumps became 107 bulbs in a matter of minutes, and I wanted to get them in the ground as soon as possible. The auger and drill came out, and the task was completed in under an hour.

Narcissus tazetta ‘Grand Primo’ is one of the few Narcissus that is very persistent in the deep south. Scapes are adorned with over half a dozen petticoat-shaped flowers. Note other attributes like bright orange pollen and the corona that fades from butter yellow to off-white over time.

The ingenious idea was from Thomas Rainer.  We both were presenting at the Speaking of Gardening event in Asheville two years ago, and he mentioned getting one for planting the deep-rooted landscape plugs.

Several months later, I remembered browsing Amazon one night to purchase the thing.  When it came, I tried it out, and I was immediately impressed.  As someone who suffers from carpal tunnel in my wrists, using a trowel over and over again leaves my hand in pain after planting.  Now, I hook the auger up to a cordless drill, zip zip zip, and I’m ready to plant 50 plugs! I find that even the three-inch pot size will easily fit into a shallow excavated hole.

We bought one for school, and the students immediately fell in love with it, too.  I also convinced my parents to get one for planting bulbs.  

The biggest problem I encounter using the auger is roots.  In plain soil, it will go down without a problem, but roots often cause it to jerk around or just stop.  Also, safety note:  I find it best to hold it with both hands.  If you’re concerned about it whipping on you, get one of the two-handled drills.  I would especially recommend that option if you use a corded drill.

I know many advise dividing Narcissus once dormant, but I’ve had success moving them in the green. In this image you can see the circular holes made by the auger and my attempts to get the bulbs to the same depth. After sticking them in the hole, I use a hoe to replace the soil back.

Reckoning with Foliage

In my studies of mixed plantings, I've noticed that bulbs are frequently prescribed to add flavor to the plant recipes.  And, why not?  You've gotta love the little, ephemeral jewels!  Just a few can add spice and zing to a garden, and no matter the season, it seems some are always popping out of the earth, blooming feverishly, or returning to the ground from whence they came.  

In horticulture design we often use geophytes—plants that return every year from underground storage organs—to fill a niche, whether it's a place or a time in the garden when little else is in flower.  Take spring, for example.  Bulb foliage and then bloom carpets the ground long before anything else has barely emerged from winter slumber. 

Tulipa ‘Orange Emperor’ (tulip) and Muscari armeniacum ‘Valerie Finnis’ (grape hyacinth) jump out of their beds in the gravel garden at Chanticleer in Wayne, PA while other perennials keep pushing snooze. This photo was taken in late April 2014.

Early Narcissus mix and mingle in one of Greg Grant's bulb prairies in Arcadia, TX. Note that this photo of bulbs blooming in the south was taken on 12 February 2017, a full two months earlier in the year than the photo above.

In thinking of how to integrate bulbs into matrix-style plantings here in the deep south, that's where I've hit a snag—the foliage.  For us, spring bulbs are winter bulbs, often having finished flowering long before the vernal equinox.   And, if they are flowering that early in the year, it means we need to back up even further for when the foliage actually emerges.  Many paperwhites (Narcissus papyraceus) are already in their full greensleeves before Christmas, if not in bloom.  In fact, I noted one paperwhite that had it's foliar costume on right before Halloween on 19 October 2016 and was in subsequent bloom on 11 November 2016.  This time of the year is usually when people are planting bulbs, not watching them flourish and bloom!!!

A bee rests on the parchment-like petals of Narcissus papyraceus.

The early bulb foliage presents a maintenance problem in a planting where a myriad of other grasses and forbs are. I'll quote Piet Oudolf and say that "brown is a color, too," and I don't think it is right to cut short our freeze-and-then-dried finale by removing winter interest very early to allow the bulb foliage to emerge.  I delight in seeing the ghosts of perennials past remain on into January.   But, if we wait to cut back, we risk damaging these recharging solar panels that keep the bulbs blooming, especially if a carte blanche cut is performed over an entire area. 

Those that use the designed plant community concept further north don't run into this problem.  For them, they get full die back in the fall and winter and then can have a massive clean up and/or mow down in the spring as Roy Diblik elegantly illustrates on his website.   (Thanks, Roy!)  The cold keeps the bulb foliage in check so that the two usually don't coincide.

So, how does one reckon with all this foliage?  More specifically, how shall we have our spring... or should I say winter display? 

Narcissus tazetta 'Grand Primo' (Chinese sacred lily) flowers and fades amongst blades of Panicum (switchgrass) foliage. It's brown vs green. How do we in the deep south enjoy the architectural show of our winter grasses while integrating bulbs into mixed plantings?

Here's some ideas that I've had as I've pondered that question.

1.  Don't plant bulbs.  Hahahaha!  An option, yes.  But, it's quite boring.  Next. 

2.  Planting a later flowering species. I really sank my teeth into searching for these bulbs.  I remember thinking, "Surely, there are later spring-flowering geophytes that will perform well here in Texas." 

Last winter (2016), I started noting every Narcissus that I could and the weeks I saw them in bloom.  Paperwhites started as early as December and continued into January.  Next, Narcissus italicus (minor monarque) began flowering in January along with Narcissus × odorus (campernelles), and finally, Narcissus tazetta 'Grand Primo', Narcissus tazetta 'Erlicheer', and Narcissus 'Ice Follies' (daffodil) were the last of the bunch, blooming throughout February.  This year, as of 10 February 2017, all of these were in flower.  Thanks to a visit this year to Greg Grant's gardens in Arcadia, TX, I can also add Narcissus jonquilla (jonquil), Narcissus pseudonarcissus (Lent lily), Narcissus × intermedius (Texas star), and Narcissus 'Carlton' (daffodil) to my list, which I've learned usually bloom in early-to-mid February here in east Texas.  From my local colleagues, I understand this parade of performances is typically what we experience here in east Texas.

A family photo of Narcissus that shows the wonderment of hybridization, all thanks to the handy work of Greg Grant. He arranged; I photographed. From left to right: Narcissus tazetta 'Grand Primo', Narcissus × intermedius, Narcissus jonquilla, Narcissus × odorus, and Narcissus pseudonarcissus. Those noted with a hybrid '×' in their name exhibit intermediate characteristics between the two species on either side. (Note: Straight tazetta is the supposed parent for Narcissus × intermedius.)

The buttery yellow coronas of Narcissus × italicus

Narcissus × odorus, a vigorous hybrid for the southeast originating from crosses of Narcissus pseudonarcissus and Narcissus jonquilla. Occasionally, these geophytes will throw up flowers that have less than six petals. Do you spy any in the photograph above?

'Erlicheer' is one of the last Narcissus to flower in the deep south. Overall, double forms of Narcissus are usually later than their single counterparts.

I also considered species other than Narcissus.  Leucojum aestivum (summer snowflake) is definitely a candidate.  As of 10 January 2017, it's foliage was a mere four-to-six inches out of the ground.  Last year when we had a mild winter, these beauties were in bloom on 29 January 2016 with their full accompaniment of foliage.  This year, I observed the first bloom on 2 February 2017.  

Summer snowflakes are winter snowflakes in zone 8.

Muscari neglectum (starch hyacinth) is on my list, too.  Right now, it's stringy foliage is starting to poke up, and last year, it was in bloom on 20 March 2016. 

I believe that Tulipa clusiana (lady tulip) and its cultivars would work as well.  While I haven't trialled them in the ground in Nacogdoches yet besides what I grow in containers, I have reports that they grow well in Houston, much further south than us. 

The blushed-red and buttery petals of Tulipa clusiana 'Cynthia' look almost candy-like.

For the majority of the other early spring species, it's either too hot or too wet for them.  However, thanks to Brent and Becky's Bulbs, we are trialling some additional types to see if there are others out there that will perform well for us. 

3.  Cutting Time.  If we can't change the plant palette, perhaps we can adapt the timing of our cut to fit the plant's growth to avoid damaging bulb foliage.  But, this practice is going to have limited application because weather varies so much during the cooler months of the year.  During the 2015–2016 winter, it was so mild I had to finally cut grasses back in January that were still showing some green from the previous fall.  However, this winter, a cold snap on 6 January 2017 dropped us from 75°F to 25°F in one day and was followed by two nights of 16°F and 18°F.  This arctic blast killed many of our perennials down to the ground.  Some years we'll have die back, and other years we might not.  Because of varying weather conditions each winter, I don't believe that in the south we have the opportunity to wait and then cut everything back in one fell swoop like our friends up north if we include early season geophytes in our plantings.  If we wait for everything to die back, the bulb foliage may likely already be fully emerged.   

4.  Strategic Intermingling.  Instead, I believe that one will have to go in and edit the mixed planting as he or she sees fit.  That may add more work for those who are wishing to do large scale bulb and perennial plantings.  

And, this practice ties in well with my observations of plant growth here in Texas.  One of the climatic characteristics that has amazed me about living in zone 8b is that our growing season never really stops.  Last winter, I also noted what other species still looked good during the winter.  All winter long, Carex cherokeensis (Cherokee sedge) that we trialled from Hoffman Nursery looked absolutely incredible.  Even with the arctic plunge we had in early January 2017, the plant is still holding it's green.  

In the middle of winter, Carex cherokeensis keeps it's green.

The foliage on our native Rudbeckia maxima (giant coneflower) is also surviving the winter like a champ.  The leaves barely show any sign of winter damage, and many plants are beginning to produce new foliage now for the spring.  

The foliage of these other perennials also presents a management challenge if included in matrix plantings.   Perhaps we could interplant bulbs whose leaves emerge early with some of these winter-foliage stalwarts?  Thus, we could combine plants that have similar cut back requirements.  

If it's green, do not clean.  If it's brown, cut it down.  

I believe that strategic intermingling is the best option to be able to maximize bulb foliage growth AND the winter interest display.  And, as we integrate this approach into our gardens, I'll report back to you. 

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With the presence of bulb foliage in the gardens of the deep south, we may never have a slate that we can just fully erase in February for the new year like our northern counterparts.  But, we may not be the only area of the world reckoning with bulb foliage in the near future.  I asked Cassian Schmidt about the above conundrum when we spoke together at the Perennial Plant Conference in Swarthmore, PA last fall, and he told me they are also having to cut back foliage for their bulb emergence earlier and earlier at Hermannshof in Germany.  Even last year in London, Narcissus were in full flower in December, a surprising and startling observation in a world where temperatures are on the rise.  As a result we may have to begin adapting our gardening practices to the change.