Orchid Go For Some Spring Right Now Couldn’t You?

Yeah, I know. I’m feeling goofy. Happens about this time every year when I can almost feel spring making her way. It’s part imagination, part will, part reality. Spring’s official arrival is four weeks away. I’m weary of winter and my head space is full of garden plans and to-dos. I’m frustrated, excited and impatient all at once. Some diversion is desperately needed.

As though sensing my state, the NYBG always comes to the rescue with the annual Orchid Show. Ah! Just the cheery lift I need. Surrounded by the lovely plants vying for attention, it’s impossible to remain glum. The colors and forms of the orchid flowers are incredible. I also love the way other plants are combined in the displays to expand and elevate the palette. It’s not just about the flowers; the inspired use of foliage should not be overlooked. Good horticultural design instruction right there.

Admittedly, beyond the basics that I already know I learn very little about orchids at the show. But if one can set aside the need for such shows to be properly educational, such an exhibit can be a very positive experience. It uplifts the winter-worn spirit and entertains the senses. That, I believe is precisely what is required right now. A chance to simply feel good and get lost in the beauty of flowers. After a visit, one comes away pleased and positive of mind.

Flower power can never be underestimated.

This year, the theme of the show is Singapore – the mecca of orchids. Having had the privilege of visiting that city-state’s orchid collection, my NYBG visit this past Friday not only did the job of putting me in a happy mood but it also reminded me of that very pleasant vacation. Now I have spring fever and the travel bug. Go figure.

P.S. Wandering through the garden on my way to the Orchid Show in the conservatory, I noticed the pointed tips of bulbs pushing their way through and yes, the snowdrops have started blooming. Joy!

That typically means my own garden will begin to stir in a couple of weeks. More joy.

Note:Check out the art at the Phyllis Harriman Gallery at the New York Art Student’s League, March 4 – 9. I have four paintings in the show.

Enjoy the images below :

Yellow fever

snowdrops!
Hellebores

(c) 2019 Shobha Vanchiswar

Snowdrops Keep Swirling In My Head

I love snowdrops. How could one not? Shy and sweet, they appear exactly when the heart is weary and needs a sign of hope that spring is imminent. Defying all odds, these diminutive beauties push through the earth quietly and seemingly overnight, they delight our eyes with their slender green blades and tiny, white bells. With the garden still in winter’s grip, these small bulbs remind me to be positive and brave – despite the challenges, go forth and conquer the day. Good things do come in small packages.

In the course of passing the winter perusing plant catalogs and garden periodicals, I’ve been coveting a myriad varieties of Galanthus. It’s astonishing how many there – double/multiple petaled, unique markings of green on the white petals, some lightly fragrant. Even as I wonder how one is supposed to lie prostrate on the still cold ground to observe these special traits, I covet them all for my garden. Never mind that nobody will notice such details, just knowing they are there seems to warrant their purchase. Perhaps this fall I will be planting a sizable quantity and variety of snowdrops. Fingers crossed – if anything, I’ve learned from these pretties that hope springs eternal.

In extended ( okay, obsessive ) readings on snowdrops, I learned a heartwarming bit of snowdrop history. During the Crimean War, which is clearly the antithesis to Brits’ Agincourt, the starving and freezing British soldiers were deeply demoralized and hopeless. Till the earth, winter-worn and thus far bare of growth but covered in piles of shot and other warfare debris came alive as early bulbs forced their way through. Masses of snowdrops, crocuses and hyacinths turned the soldiers’ morale around. They were symbols of hope and optimism. Some of them planted snowdrops around their tents and huts. Others, brought or sent home specimens of snowdrops which were planted and duly identified.

It was only later that people fully appreciated just how significant the ‘flower of consolation’ and ‘star of hope’ were to the soldiers. This led to greater quantities of bulbs being imported.

Sharing their discovery with family and friends, the soldiers directly influenced a bulb mania of sorts. The best way to preserve precious or rare plants after all, is to disperse them widely. Growers and collectors and of course the rest of us gardeners owe much to them. The dedication of those early growers is why so many early varieties of snowdrops have survived. So a big thank you to them as well.

I love this story. Not only does it once again illustrate the healing, uplifting power of flowers but it shows us a soft, very human side of tough warriors. Something to bear in mind ( and heart ) at all times.

Let the snowdrop reign.

Note: Get out of the cold and stop by the Mooney Center Gallery. Enjoy the art!

Looking forward to – 

Snowdrops



(c) 2019 Shobha Vanchiswar


Halftime Hoopla

February 2 marks the mid-point of winter – it falls in the middle of the winter solstice and the spring equinox. That’s correct, we’ve just passed the halfway mark. It was marked by a spectacular sunset. February 2 is also called Candlemas day – that’s when, in the very old days before electricity, folks would replenish their supply of candles to illuminate the rest of the cold, dark season. The candles would be blessed at a special mass. As a secular individual, I find this tradition comforting. It unites people in the effort to pass the season well.

I’m definitely not a fan of Groundhog’s Day. In my opinion, it only serves to highlight a time when humans applied superstition and not science to drive our actions. The very thought of rudely disturbing a sleeping creature to emerge out into the still cold day strikes me as particularly cruel and archaic. If it were me instead of some vulnerable groundhog, I’d be mad as hell. Wouldn’t you?

Having emerged from a week of polar vortex shenanigans, this halftime feels really good. The temperatures on Sunday and Monday shot up to spring like numbers. While I’m not complaining ( it was delicious to feel the sun as I walked around the garden sans jacket), that spike in temperature is cause for some concern.

We’re slowly settling into more seasonable temperature. Hallelujah.

Taking advantage of the weather on Sunday, I spent some time wandering around the garden searching for signs of rebirth. Coming out of a deep freeze, there were still patches of ice in an otherwise brown, lackluster landscape. But on closer examination, I spotted some encouraging indications of the season to come. Then I noticed small bulbs lying scattered around the ‘meadow’ – the freezing and thawing had thrown them up from their comparatively shallow homes in the ground. Said ground is frozen hard at present so I cannot replace the bulbs. Instead, they shall remain in a pot of soil until the great thaw occurs. I’m a tad unhappy with this situation. Those small bulbs bloom early and are crucial to my vision of how this area rolls out the flowers so, I resent this casual tossing behavior with no regard for the investment of time, money and energy on my part. Oh well. I remain at Nature’s mercy.

The hellebores are also beginning to stir. Slowly. The new growth is still working up courage to get going. I love feeling the surge of anticipation in my veins.

In the greenhouse, the citrus are having their moment. Makes it all very cheery and leads me to pretend I have a limonaria. I even harvest the first lemon. How best to use this precious fruit is my happy dilemma. Make lemon curd? Salad dressing? Lemon pound cake? So many possibilities!

The calamondin oranges are looking quite lovely. They aren’t really edible as they’re small, very seedy and sour. But, they lend a certain sophisticated flavor when speared into a vodka martini. A branch of these oranges makes a dining table look very festive – turns a routine gathering into a party.

Indoors, the forced hyacinths are coming along nicely. This waiting is always most exciting to me. It’s like a child’s giddy expectation in the days leading up to Christmas.

I also picked up some inexpensive primroses -their flowers in crayon-box colors are so heartwarming. They are quite a contrast to the very elegant looking white orchid that’s been in bloom since early December. FYI – Orchids are really great value for the money.

Yes indeed. Halftime feels good.

February 2 sunset

The ‘meadow’ looking blah
New growth
Hellebore
Tossed up bulbs
Ice patch
Calamondin oranges
Lemon!
On a pedestal
Forcing hyacinths
Primroses

(c) 2019 Shobha Vanchiswar

Glacial Gifts, Tundra Tidings

We are heading into a deep, deep freeze today. It’s not pretty. Bitterly cold, icy and positively painful to endure. Obviously a natural reason to stay cozy and warm indoors. Get that fire roaring, have hot chocolate or something stronger on hand and settle in to read, dream and plan for warmer days. Spring seems far away right now but it’ll be here and I’d better be ready.

I really do appreciate the days when we’re forced to spend time within – literally and metaphorically. Time to reflect and review is the benevolence of this season. I’m no longer required to come up with excuses for lolling on the couch at odd times of the day. In fact, I’ve become something of an expert on getting cozy.

Gather those soft blankets, fuzzy socks, books, periodicals, notebook/ipad, phone, eye glasses, snack and drink. Turn on the music, light the fire and settle down on your favorite coach. Start reading, researching, make notes, plans and lists … on any subject you want. In my case, it’s the garden.

Typically, I have a hearty stew or one pot meal going in the slow cooker and I’m surrounded by forced bulbs and other flowers to set the stage for serious couch time.

I’ve been catching up on all the garden magazines and catalogs that piled up during the busy seasons. My notes are becoming extensive and I’m now desiring a space the size of a small country to implement all my ideas. I’m also following garden doings in Australia and the UK. This has on occasion got me all confused.

Since summer is in session down under, there is much talk about dahlias and roses. As a result, my mind skips over spring and starts imagining it is in August loitering amongst dahlias ( I actually don’t have any in my garden) and feeling the heat of the super hot days they’re experiencing in Australia. I get all anxious till I realize it’s very much winter here. Side note: We usually predict our flu season by observing how it was in Australia. Let’s hope their summer does not portend our own.

Meanwhile, in the UK, their hellebores, aconites and snowdrops are going gangbusters. That’s at least a couple of months ahead of us and yet, I’ve caught myself rushing out, risking frostbite and searching for signs of growth. Yes, I’m messed up.

The list of plants I’m hoping to include in the meadow is more or less finalized and I will order the plants later today. I’m now dreaming of a completely new garden feature to introduce this spring. No more will be said at present as I’m researching the feasibility of it. But, I’m having a good time plotting.

Last summer, I’d picked up Alexander Dumas’ “Black Tulip” at the Amsterdam Botanical Gardens shop. I had not been aware he’d written a book on anything botanical and this one seemed an appropriate purchase as it is set in the Netherlands. I’m reading it now. It’s not in any way hoticulturally informative and I’d forgotten that Dumas’ writing style is sort of archaic but the obsession two characters have about ‘creating’ a true black tulip is completely relatable. It is only at this period of forced lounging that such a piece of fiction does not feel like a waste of time.

There are a couple of books currently available in the UK that have me salivating. I fully intend to procure them soon. I shall report on them in due course.

And now, back to the serious work of contemplating on the couch.

Note: The ‘Personal Best’ art show at the Mooney Center Gallery in New Rochelle, NY is underway! Check it out please. I’d love feedback.

Since nothing is in bloom outside, I’m sharing some of my watercolors –

(c) 2019 Shobha Vanchiswar

The Season Is Lit

These days, the season of lights begins at Thanksgiving when houses across the country clad in lights announce that it is so. The tree at Rockefeller Center made it official last Wednesday. Hanukkah has come early this year – the first candle on the menorah was lit this past Sunday evening. It is now left to all us laggards to get in the spirit and join in.

While I’m all for the lights and assorted expressions of festivities, it irks me that it has become such a commercial enterprise. Buy, buy, buy. It is just overwhelming. How have we come to this point? More importantly, why? I for one, cannot take the crowds and shopping frenzy. I realize shops depend on the public to spend generously but for me, quieter times are more conducive to making thoughtful purchases at my local businesses. Past experience has demonstrated that I can get carried away if I join the shopping populace at this time – I buy a myriad of stuff that are not at all what I actually want to say to those on my gift list. I’m of the belief that a gift should please and be personal. Some thought should go into gift giving and I am simply unable to think in the cacophony of commercialism right now.

Instead, I’d rather make my rounds of small businesses through the year. I can browse at leisure and select appropriate items for my loved ones. It goes without saying that I do not ever give cars sporting giant bows or jewelry worthy of a princess of even a tiny, obscure nation.

During the holiday season, I’d much rather take in all the lights. Literally. From said Rockefeller Center tree to cruising through neighborhoods known for their over-the-top holiday displays, I enjoy everything. Including the windows that quietly display lit menorahs – so beautiful and meaningful. My town had its tree lighting last Saturday and we are now officially open for the season. On December 12, Untermyer gardens will have its Grand Holiday Illumination – I plan to be there.

Last Friday, I attended the holiday concert of Chanticleer – that group of exceptional acapella singers from San Francisco. They delivered the true spirit of the season. Joy, love and peace. So I have no excuse not to do my part.

My seasonal gift giving is restricted to the homemade and home-grown. I bake cookies and cakes, make limoncello and decant into pretty bottles ( recycled of course) and distribute the jams and chutneys I made last summer.

Homegrown paperwhites and amaryllis are also what I like to give. Note: Paperwhites are only for those who are not repelled by their distinct scent. All year long I pick up interesting containers to hold the holiday bulbs. Guaranteed to please all. For those whom I know will appreciate and include in their gardens, I add small envelopes of seeds harvested from my garden.

Finally, to the extra special people, I add something from my Printed Garden collection. A pair of tea towels, a pillow, a set of placemats and napkins, a table runner – all adorned with flowers reproduced from my own artwork. I continue to be deeply touched by how much these products are loved.

So there you have it. My pared down, simplified approach to the holidays. Enjoy the lights, spread the light, be the light.

Note: The much awaited Holiday Show of the Art Students League of New York begins next week! I have a painting in it.
Show Dates
Monday, December 11 — Friday, December 22

Gallery Hours
Weekdays  9:00am–8:00pm
Weekends  9:00am–4:00pm

(c) 2018 Shobha Vanchiswar

November Nuances

It finally feels like November. Fall is on the way out and winter is moving in. Blustery cold days with a definitive crispness in the air, enough trees in now muted colors rendering the days with an understated, autumnal elegance all highlighted by that clear sunshine so particular to this time of year. The transition to winter is happening. Things are slowing down. November, a month of progression, people power and prayerful thanks.

Most of the fall garden chores are done. But for another round or two of leaf raking and covering the large pots with their winter protection of plastic tarp and burlap, little else is called for. After the ground is well and truly frozen, a layer of mulch will be applied to all the beds. Doing it too early invites rodents to make homes beneath the mulch. Besides, until the ground is frozen hard, there is the threat of freezing and thawing which can displace the mulch.

Before Thanksgiving, I’ll make another inspection to confirm that the limbs of climbers and vines are secured properly and all movable furniture put away. The greenhouse heater is giving trouble so we’re keeping an eye on it. Should it fail to kick-in, the plants will suffer or worse. Hoping it doesn’t need replacing – good heaters don’t come cheap.

In this period of down time, I’ve been making it a point to enjoy the foliage which has been spectacular this year. We were fortunate to have days bright with sunshine this past long weekend. So while temperatures dipped and the wind whipped up the fallen leaves, brisk, energetic walks were in order. Got the blood flowing and spirits raised for sure. The fall colors are fading but there’s still plenty to observe and enjoy. Yellow ocher is having its moment. I’m taking my wardrobe cues from nature’s current palette. I too would like to look understated and elegant.

The joyous displays of chrysanthemums and pumpkins in front of so many homes remind me that Thanksgiving is fast approaching. I wish I’d brought in more hydrangea to make big arrangements for the mantel. But my timing was off and now the blooms on the plants are all brown and shriveled. Still, outdoors, they continue to make a visual impact. I’m loving the earthy hues. There is so much beauty in senescence.

That is true of humans as well.

Note: Points Of View” is still on. Do check it out!

Also: I have a painting here –

 

Some images I’ve enjoyed this month:

(c) 2018 Shobha Vanchiswar

Foliage, Flowers, Freedom

Fall has finally peaked. It’s late but oh my, it’s been worth the wait. It is firelicious. Don’t look up the word – I made it up. The colors are so brilliant and gaudy it feels like I’m in a mad artist’s palette. So this past Sunday, we drove around simply to take in the fall foliage. With no plans or destination in mind, we took side roads and parkways pausing frequently to observe and admire. The weather was perfect – mild temperatures, a backdrop of clear blue skies, sunlight glancing off the colors creating ephemeral moments of sparkle and glow, I couldn’t get enough of the gorgeous hues. Can’t believe how blessed I am to live here.

Autumn

The sun lives on earth these days

I tread on glowing embers

Walking amidst flames of leaves

My world’s ablaze in hothouse colors.

– Shobha

The bulbs are all planted. Fingers crossed that we do not revert suddenly to summer temperatures anytime before spring. I’m already envisioning the bold splashes of color that will rejuvenate our spirits and gardens so tired of winter’s tedium. Flowers work such powerful magic.

The icing on the cake was that during the entire afternoon spent admiring the foliage, I never once got distracted by thoughts of all the turmoil and tension in the country. The anger, fear and uncertainty is palpable everywhere. Well today, we get to make things better. We vote. That’s how we preserve our freedoms and this democracy. Whatever else you might have on your to-do list today, make sure you cast your vote. That right was hard-earned and hard-fought. Don’t let yourself or your nation down.

Note: Thank you everyone who came to the reception of ‘Point Of View’! Your support and presence meant the world to me. For those who couldn’t make it, the exhibit is on through the month of November. Don’t forget to sign the guest book!

@walonlewis

Started the foliage viewing from my own backyard

A glimpse of ‘Points Of View’

(c) 2018 Shobha Vanchiswar

Hope Is Alive And Well

The shipment of bulbs finally arrived last Friday. The bulb houses ship the orders in time for planting at their final destinations. Given how erratic our weather has been this year, the bulbs are unsurprisingly later than usual. With no certainty on my part, I’ve decided to take the bulb companies to heart – maybe they know something I don’t. Hence, I began the planting on Sunday. Getting 1000 bulbs planted will take a while.

What can be more optimistic than planting bulbs? These rotund packages large and small, hold within their brown, plain bodies the promise of a beautiful spring as reward for enduring the dark, cold days of winter. Given recent happenings in our country, the days already feel dark, forbidding and scary. So planting the bulbs serves as both a distraction and an act of faith. Tomorrow will be brighter and better. Without that inherent belief, gardeners would cease to exist.

In performing this ritual of investing in the future, I’m encouraged that beauty on earth will persist. When the flowers emerge next spring, they will bring joy to all who see them. At that time, I will particularly remember those we lost at the time of planting. They didn’t go in vain.

I believe that we cannot give up or give in to the threats that loom – good will always triumph over evil, light will eliminate the dark, love will conquer hate. Otherwise, there’d be no point to anything.

Note: ‘Points Of View” opens this week. Do stop for a look!

This year’s bulb order.

Fall in miniature

Glimpses of last spring –

(c) 2018 Shobha Vanchiswar

The Writing Is On The Wall

Exactly one week ago, it was frightfully hot with intermittent downpours that caused flash floods in my part of the country. We had to run the air-conditioners to mitigate the oppressive heat and humidity. Today, it is cool and dry – cool enough that the heat has been turned on. Kinda crazy right?

In the garden, the fall flowers are still blooming nicely and things are generally green. Not much leaf color at all. Are the vivid colors of the season ever going to make a showing? Hiking at a local preserve yesterday, there wasn’t much to indicate that summer was well over. I’m afraid we might just transit straight to brown and bare which would be such a shame. After all, the best reason to love autumn is that display of sunset hues lighting up the landscape. One likely feels cheated. Give us one last celebration before we move indoors to hibernate please!

The soil is not quite ready for bulb planting – the ground temperature needs to be around 55 degrees. In fact, the shipments of bulbs haven’t even arrived. While the greenhouse is fully occupied with tender plants and the heat is keeping them warm, it feels as though the remaining seasonal work is at a standstill of sorts. There’s too much that’s looking good to be cut down just yet. Despite the current cold weather, I keep thinking we might still have a few more days of milder temperatures so I’m holding off putting away the outdoor chairs.

It’s a bit unsettling to be thrown off the normal schedule of seasonal garden chores. However, the bigger worry is how this erratic behavior of the climate will impact globally. From migrating birds and animals to farmers planning their crops there will be an effect that will ultimately affect us all. I’m also concerned that all that humidity and warm conditions that was our summer will spawn disease and a glut of pests. One can no longer ignore the signs – each of us bears a responsibility to care. Care enough to do something. Every bit of action will matter. From conserving water and other resources, preserving and protecting the land, reusing, planting predominantly native plants, recycling and reducing all waste … you know what I’m saying. It worries me that the problem is seen by too many as not in our control or that we humans do not play a part. If we are willing to listen to the scientists about new cancer treatments and developments why then do so many resist their warnings and reports about climate change? We might not be able to reverse the change in the near future but, at the very least we’ve got to try to stop it from getting worse.

Not making any effort would be inexcusable. After all, if ones own home were threatened would we do nothing? Well then, Earth is the big home and the only one we’ve got. So let’s get busy. This is a call to action.

Note: I’m looking forward to seeing you at Points Of View’. .

Scenes from last October –

(c) 2018 Shobha Vanchiswar

Autumn List

I wrote this poem ten years ago and revisit it annually. It reminds to keep perspective. Hope it does the same for you. It’s a busy time but let’s savor it properly.

Autumn List

Make haste

No time to waste

Lawn to reseed

And composter to feed

Plants to behead

To put garden to bed

Bulbs to place

In hollowed space

Rake the leaves

Haul wood to cleave

Pick remaining produce

Debris to reduce

Soil to turn

Calories will burn

Mulch to protect

Weeds to reject

STOP!

Now, pause awhile

Breathe and smile

Cast your gaze

On trees ablaze

Enjoy autumn’s beauty

Amidst garden duty

Have some fun

As chores get done.

=Shobha Vanchiswar

Not to put a damper but there’s an APB out on a new plant pest – the Spotted Lanternfly. Do check out this link. Something to be aware about. Stay vigilant.

Note: “Points Of View” is an art show of two artists ( me and Murali Mani), one medium, individual points of view. Reception is November 2. Looking forward to seeing you there!

Enjoy these sights of the season –

New grass coming up nicely

Filling up the greenhouse

(c) 2018 Shobha Vanchiswar