PLANTING AND CARE
Whether your glassed-in garden is an artistic arrangement of plants or an actual garden, give your design a tryout by placing the plants on a temporary basis. Put them in place and appraise the arrangement. Don’t rush. You’ll save time by not having to do it over later.
In the case of containers rounded on the bottom, line them with thin sheets of moss. Turn the green side out. Next add an adequate layer of pebbles or sand, for drainage. A sprinkling of broken charcoal is particularly desirable. The close humid air may cause soil to grow “sour” without it.
Soil may be acid or not, heavy or light, sandy or humus-rich. It all depends on the type of plant to grow in it, and it will be moist when you use it. Please, make the soil deep enough to give the plants root-room. If you want to make it interesting, build it up gently into slopes or natural mounds. Flat land is dull, not nearly so interesting.
As you put in the plants, add the stones, pebbles, paths, or pools—whatever you have in your design. May I warn you—don’t dirty the inside of the glass. Once dirty, it is almost impossible to clean up later. Plant sparsely. Remember, your plants are going to grow. The finishing touch will be the addition of “sod” or moss on the bare areas. Most of the suggestions for dish gardens and model landscapes in earlier chapters apply here. Finally, polish the glass and spray the plants with a fine mist to clean off any soil that may be on leaves and stems. Water very gently.
According to tradition, partridgeberry bowls are arranged differently. The base of the bowl is lined with moss, and covered with drainage layers, charcoal, and then soil. Then the berried plants and any others to be combined with them are placed, one layer at a time, with their faces against the glass. Their roots are toward the center and covered with soil. Finish the top layer facing up; sprinkle any loose berries on top; mist the foliage gently; cover with glass, and deck out with a big bow of Christmas ribbon.
For a few days after planting, set a terrarium where the light is not bright. After that, it needs light or sunlight according to the requirements of the plants. If they grow lank, limp, and leggy, they are usually stretching out for more light. Window-sill plants may lean toward the window—remedy: simply turn the terrarium around, and alternate it every few days so that both sides get an equal share of light.
Temperature also depends on the plants. Hardy outdoor natives are best at 60 degrees or less, even if they are moved to a cool spot at night. Tropical plants, and many others, are happy at the usual living-room temperatures.
Watering can be tricky, but not if you are careful and rational. Obviously, if the top of your container is covered tightly, not much moisture can escape. It will condense inside the glass and drop back into the garden. Water will be needed less frequently. But don’t be too happy about this. If there is excess moisture, if too much collects on the glass, if the soil is always soggy, mildew and root-rot may result. Lift off the top for a while and let the inside dry out a little. Keep the soil on the dry side if the cover fits too tightly.
Here is another warning—soil should never become completely dry. (I am afraid I have you walking on a tightrope.) Again, take that handle of a spoon or fork and dig down through a bare spot so you can see how wet the soil is at the bottom. If water is needed, add it very gently. Remember, the small plants must not be deluged and dislodged; use just enough water to moisten the soil, not soak it. Sorry, but it is impossible to write down any definite schedule for watering. Frequency and quantity depend on the size of the terrarium and the size of the plants, on the outside temperature, and on other environmental factors. Even the weather and the season of the year are important. But, I’ll bet you need watering much less frequently than you think. You may feel you should fertilize the plants so they will grow more vigorously. Here is a word of warning on that score—few woodland plants appreciate chemical fertilizers (the powders you buy at the hardware store or in the horticultural supply shops). If you want to feed your plants, the best thing to use is a weak solution of manure water. I am always bundling up manure in gunny sacks, soaking it in a watering pot, and then using the water on my plants.
Glass-covered terrariums usually keep themselves clean inside, because dust just can’t get into them. You may need to remove fading flowers and leaves. If you have any plants, particularly creepers, that threaten to take over and smother the others, get a sharp pair of embroidery or manicure scissors and begin pruning. Aliens such as earthworms and slugs are out. Put on your sharpest-pointed heels and step on them.
CHAPTER 5
MINIATURE GREENHOUSE GARDENS
As far as I am concerned, the first part of this chapter is a dream. It is such a precious dream I shouldn’t even publish it until it comes true. I am afraid I must confess that parts of it have already been published in Flower and Garden. I was so carried away with the idea I rushed it into print, just so I could tell the world about a dream. It is a dream I hope you will dream with me. The magazine has given me permission to repeat the article I wrote for them.
The whole thing started when I began to get bored with prissy rows of pots in my own greenhouse. It is a forty-by-twenty-foot house and really isn’t ours. (It belongs to a neighbor who used to use it for the chickens. The chickens didn’t like being dispossessed, but they adapted themselves to the horse barn, where they are much happier.) My dream picked up emphasis when I tried a few “potless gardens” with plant roots unconfined and running freely in the soil. I immediately saw how much happier the plants were and how much more naturally they throve. I am a working girl. I have but a few years to go on my retirement plan, and then I can retire. Hence, I dream about my own personal greenhouse. My dream greenhouse.
I picture it as an extension of our recreation room so I can look out through the large window to the glassed-in garden a dozen times a day, every day of the year. There will be a convenient door for the many times I’ll be lured away from my typewriter. Any moment I wish, I can step into my garden to watch a bud unfold, tuck a wandering tendril back around a support, breathe in the fresh, moist fragrance only a greenhouse has.
My garden will be tropical. I love it that way. You, my reader, may wish a desert planted with fabulous cacti, or perhaps a cooler garden for alpine and hardier plants. But I love the exotics; and I will plant each one where it will grow according to its natural whims. Please, no more neat rows of pots on benches. My creepers will be planted where they can clamber over the soil and an occasional rock or rotted log. Climbers will have some picturesque support on which to climb. Epiphytes will have trees to perch on; and the danglers, baskets to hang from.
There will be variations of light, from full sun to patches of dappled or deep shade. If I can manage it, somehow I’d like to have variations in temperature in the different parts of my dream greenhouse. Some plants like the vigor of a cool corner; others revel in tropical warmth. Then there is the matter of moisture. For dry-growing plants there would be rock gardens and raised beds; for moisture-lovers there would be sunken, humus-rich bogs.
But you can’t have a greenhouse, dream or otherwise, without having utilities, heating plant, water pipes, and potting places. Those I would conceal under the shade of flowering vines. I think I should allow myself the luxury of a stool—perhaps even a rocking chair—where I can sit down to pot or propagate my plants.
Of course, there would be a pool in my greenhouse garden, with a water lily to flower in it. Around the edge would be arranged rocks to make a home for friendly frogs, salamanders, and turtles. I would teach them to be so friendly I could take them to safe quarters when I had to spray or fumigate. Restful ferns would frame that pool. A fountain would make the musical sound of splashing water. Perhaps the overflow would run into a tiny, winding stream. I’ll have to ask Fred, our plumber, about that.
I don’t know much about birds, but I’d like to have a canary housed in a cage. He’d be there only when the vents were open. Otherwise he’d be free to fly. I might even have a parakeet for his company. I’d have a radio to play softly—only classical, gentle music. Nothing with brass—mostly violins and soft ones at that. No telephone—never. I’d have a bench for my guests—wrought iron very likely, since I think it would fit the décor, but the sort that is comfortable. Somehow, I’m going to have to figure out a way of labeling my plants so the labels will not show. Perhaps, we can do it electronically. As I have said, I would have a rocking chair, an old and battered one. And the grandchildren—this being a dream I can have grandchildren (our own youngsters are still young). There would be a curiosity corner for them where they could touch the mimosa and see it fold, watch a pitcher plant catch a fly, pick fluffy bolls of cotton, or dig a small peanut crop.
My garden will be full of surprises. Any day of the year a visitor will find something new—a miniature orchid flowering on the branch of the bromeliad tree; iridescent Selaginella uncinata stalking on stilt-roots under a dwarf banana; carved columns, old urns, pieces of ceramic art I expect to pick up in my travels. Here, perhaps an old tree trunk sunk naturally in the soil; there, a log half buried as it would be in the woods; and then some stepping stones, two or three at the most to entice guests to look down on a mound of oxalis in full flower; overhead, a moss-lined basket of flamboyant epiphyllum in spring.
My planting, of course, will be carefully planned, but the plan will not be obvious. The shaggy fishtail palm, Caryota urens, would be placed in the perfect spot. The Mexican tree fern would look as if it had lived there always. The bromeliad tree would seem to have lived and died in my indoor jungle, and the plants rooted in its branches would look as if they had planted themselves, as they do in the tropics. Luscious-leaved philodendrons would climb and cover any obvious walls. Vines would be trained to soften sharp corners and provide some shade. In irregular beds I’d plant a natural arrangement of upright flowering and foliage plants—begonias, fuchsias, oleander, all kinds of aroids, a dwarf citrus or two. A walk might be edged with the tiny, delicious Corsican mint, Mantha requieni.
In a warm, partly shaded area I’d go crazy with gesneriads—flaming episcias covering the ground, tube-flowered aeschynanthus spilling down from above, fiery-flowered columneas in all their glory. And yes, I’d have African violets—not in pots, but in baskets, in strawberry jars, or sunk in the soil.
If (when?) I have my greenhouse, there are some plants I wouldn’t be without. Among vines—silver-leaved Cissus striata with its swinging curtain of stringy aerial roots; Clerodendrum thomosoniae, its blue-green leaves smothered in red-hearted white flowers in spring; Passiflora coccinea, the red passion flower, for glamour. I’d hang baskets of the new soft-hued fuchsia hybrids, and my favorite floriferous begonia, ‘Shippy’s Garland.’
For fragrance, I’d plant a jasmine, Stephanotis floribunda, and Osmanthus fragrans, the precious olive. For early spring refreshment, I’d force miniature and dwarf daffodils, bringing in pots of them from the cold frame and sinking them in the soil. I’d want the silky-soft foliage and royal-purple flowers of Tibouchina semidecandra, the glory bush; but I’d pinch and prune it, to keep it fairly low. I’d want a large basket floating airy fronds, one of the davallias, or rabbit’s-foot ferns, and a smaller basket for the variegated Abutilon megapotamicum, because I love its gold-splashed leaves strung neatly along wiry stems, and its dangling red-and-yellow lantern flowers.
Just one more thing to complete my dream. Near the door of my dream-greenhouse garden, I’d have a special box for my guests, a box filled with small plants from which they could choose a parting gift. (I know if this greenhouse works out as I picture it, I shall have guests. I shall be happy to see them come, and a bit wistful when they leave. I will feel better if they take a small token of my gardening with them as they go.)
Frankly, this idea of a dream greenhouse came upon me quite casually. Much as we love our home here in Redding, Connecticut, we discovered a place which we felt we would like even better—a manor sort of place with stables, pools, formal gardens, a very charming old house, and seemingly endless rock walls. My husband and I fell in love with it—he, I think, because of a quarter-mile of trout streams, I, because it had a most charming greenhouse, the one I have been dreaming about. At this writing the entire project is still very much in the future, but we have hopes.
To be reluctantly honest, my greenhouse garden is not a brand-new idea. Mammoth conservatories are often planted as gardens, and so are the “plant rooms” now built into the more luxurious contemporary homes. Both are often show places, with plants brought in for display at the peak of their flowering beauty and, as they begin to fade, returned to spend the rest of the year in more utilitarian growing quarters. My garden would be a year-round project, the plants allowed to live through their natural cycles of active growth and rest without disturbance. We follow this procedure out of doors when we plant annuals over the spring-flowering bulbs; why not indoors, too?
Tropical garden in early stages with room for creeping ground cover and growing trees.
And, of course, there must be many hobby greenhouses already planted as gardens. I saw one near Boston, a fairly large one set into the side of a steep hill. It was a perfect piece of a desert, with the soil made suitably sandy and the curious cacti and other succulents growing as naturally as though they had never left home. Mrs. Ernesta Ballard has a small tropical greenhouse so realistically planted you feel as if you are in an exotic jungle the minute you step inside the door. But both of these places lack one important asset—room for the rocking chair and the radio with its soft music, things I hope I won’t have to be without.
A miniature garden in a glass-covered terrarium
This complete greenhouse garden may not appeal to you, or it may not be practical or possible. In that case, I urge you to try a smaller naturalistic planting of some sort, if only to get that “garden feeling” and see how happy it makes your plants.
As a substitute for that Boston desert garden, I filled a small section of one of our greenhouse benches with a suitable soil mixture and planted it with small cacti and other colorful succulents, with here and there an interesting rock or two. These plants never flowered so freely when confined in pots, never showed off to such advantage. But I made one big mistake. I failed to make allowance for the more lusty growth, and planted the garden much too thickly. In just a few months the garden looked not the least like a sparse and frugal desert, but more like a menagerie of scrambling, hoydenish pets.
Dream greenhouse, delightful and enchanting
Another garden that is not quite so wild and reckless is planted around a small pool under a greenhouse bench. The pool is actually a large plastic basin that must be emptied and cleaned with fastidious regularity. It would be better, of course, dug out and cement-lined, with a drainage pipe at the bottom. The plants are tropical, because they are in the warmth near the heating pipes; shade-loving, because a bench (even though it is slatted and admits some light) is above them. This is an excellent place for ferns, upright or climbing foliage plants, soft ground covers like selaginella. If I were to install fluorescent lights, I could add a number of flowering varieties.
A fancy to build on in the Oriental manner
The author’s succulent garden
A soil-filled bench is the site of my husband’s pet project, a grove of miniature fruit trees. There always seem to be flowers or fruits on the small orange, lemon, kumquat, and pomegranate trees. But again, we erred. We did not realize how vigorously these trees would respond to having their roots free in soil. The dwarf banana and ever-bearing fig now threaten to exceed dwarf proportions at any moment, even to go through the roof.
Rampant greenhouse with citrus trees, banana tree, and birch trunk covered with bromeliads
A naturalistic planting that occupies a minimum of bench space is a bromeliad tree fitted with a sturdy stand to hold it upright. (The stand we are using actually is a Christmas-tree stand.) For the tree itself, we selected the top of a birch tree which blew over in the woods behind our garage. The tropical green contrasts nicely with the white bark of the birch, otherwise our selection wasn’t too wise. Birch wood is soft and doesn’t last too long, hence we have been propping and wiring branches to keep them in place. Cracks, crotches, and pockets created for the purpose are packed with osmunda fiber tightly wrapped around the base of all kinds of brilliant bromeliads, some few orchids, a staghorn fern, and other epiphytic plants. The plants need not even be rooted if the osmunda is packed tightly around the base; if they’re wired in place so tightly that the spray from the hose can’t loosen them, they’ll soon be at home on the tree. Their roots will grow through the osmunda and they will attach themselves to the tree. Of course, the osmunda must be kept moist until the roots form. Once rooted they are fed by dusting the outside of the sphagnum with soluble fertilizer and watering it in. As a finishing touch, we threw strands of Spanish moss over the branches. The misty-gray moss thrives, and even flowers.
As further proof that many plants prefer freedom to being confined in pots, try planting just one creeper—an episcia, for example—in the center of a spot filled with suitable soil. See how soon it will garland the top with lush foliage, how freely it flowers. Many plants recommended for hanging baskets are really creepers and are better off when treated this way.