A store-bought hyacinth repotted into one of my home-made clay pots, helps boost my spirits. My bulbs won’t be ready to force for a few weeks so a cheat bulb here and there is OK, don’t you think? It’s scent is transformative on a January day.

After a 6 inch early January snowfall, as soon as the sun strikes the glass things begin to warm up the first South African bulbs, and mid-season camellias share their show with a colder one, outdoors.

Inside, it’s a bit like summer, which still amazed me. This is the magic one dreams of when one owns a greenhouse. Jasmine vines, lemons and other citrus here are blooming and fruiting as icy snow from the trees behind the greenhouse, falls onto the glass making a threatening noises. I know that I will have to remove those trees next year, as they are getting too large, and too fragile (they are Hemlock trees weak and suffering from the Wooly adelgid infestation). That loquat tree in the center is in full bloom.

Outside, the apple espalier trees are snug as a bug, sleeping under a new layer of powdery snow. These trees will be pruned in February, so for now, they look a bit shaggy with their long stems.

It’s about 5 degrees outside, so even with a bright blue sky and sunshine, the snow on the greenhouse from last nights storm, is slow to thaw and melt. What has melted, refreezes on the sides. It always looks dangerous, but rarely will the snow build up more than a couple of inches, before it slides off.

Inside, the glass defrosts around 10 am, and for about 4 hours, the sunshine warms things up enough, and temperatures can reach 60 degrees. This Nerine sarniensis cross enjoys a sunny Sunday with no idea that on the other side of the glass, temperatures are 60 degrees colder.

On a high bench near the eaves of the greenhouse, where it is warmer, are a few blooming cuttings from a double Nasturtium known as ‘Hermine Grashoff’ – it cannot be raised from seed, as it is sterile, so collectors must propagate it vegetatively. The ice on the curved eaves is on the other side of the glass.

Camellias are the work horses in old greenhouses, thriving in the cold, damp spaces sometimes under benches or in large clay tubs. This Japanese variegated variety (lost tag again!), is lovely, and I was surprised to see so many blossoms on the plant. Each year my camellias blooms in a slightly different way, sometimes earlier, sometimes later, but most peak in February, around Valentines day.

The exhibition chrysanthemums are just about done for the season, and this how the pots should look for a month or two. Set under benches to spend their winter, a few cuttings could be struck even now, but most will be allowed to sprout stronger stems in February when things begin to warm, and these mother plants ( or stools)  will be discarded.

The first pots of Dutch bulbs have been moved to upper benches to force for winter blooms indoors, but the South African bulbs are entering their peak growth period. Every year, the bulb benches look slightly different, which maybe is a good thing. Here you can see Babiana species  (bottom left and center) Another pink Nerine sarniensis of unknown parentage, a precious primula x Kewiness (the plant with the silvery leaves in the center) and some Lacehenalia (with the speckled foliage) on the right, to name a few.

This is a new plant for me – a rare selection of the South African bulb Velteimia  bracteata. This is a form named with the unfortunately boring name ‘Cream Form’. It is available from Telos Rare Bulbs but as most good plants are,  it isn’t cheap. I  think I now have 4 selections in my collections, V. ‘rose-alba’  (which looks like this bloom, but much smaller), V. ‘Yellow Flame’ (once rare, but becoming more available), The classic pink form and this ‘Cream Form’. I still need V. capensis, but not sure that that it would enjoy the cool environment here.

Veltheimia ‘ Cream Form’, showing the overall size of the plant. It is much larger than all of my other selections, and the foliage isn’t rippled or wavy.

I always have enjoyed the winter blooming Kalanchoe species, particularly K. uniflora. This specimen should be in bloom within a few weeks and I can’t wait for its warm, coral colored blooms which will last all winter.

A view of the front bulb bench, with a few tuberous tropaeolum beginning to vine around a balloon trellis, just about exactly like images in those 19th century gardening books.Of course, parlors in those days were wood fire heated, and allowed to drop down to 40 degrees at night, so the environment indoors made their indoor culture more successful.

This variegated lemon is extraordinary – it has pinkish fruit as well! Nearly ripe, I anticipate a very interesting marmalade this year.

The white marble was installed in the kitchen this week. I guess this project is about half complete. The painted cabinets in the back still need to be replaced and basically, everything that you can see here, is still the old kitchen. Maybe by June?

On the new side of the kitchen, I was able to spend some time with vintage books on the new concrete table top.  Having a new place to work and research is so delightful. It was a perfect way to spend a snowy January day.

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Camellias and Valentines Day were certainly ‘a thing’ back in the Victorian era, but as we have grown to be more commercial with chocolates, candy, sterile long-stemmed roses and dinner at a fancy restaurant (back when we could!), I somehow long for a more simple celebration.One with scented violets, lily of the valley and yes, camellias. OK< chocolate and a steak would be OK too. Maybe some wine.

In the 19th century, long before commercial florists and jet-flown flowers that come to us from South African, Israel, and South America via Amsterdam, there was the local growers. Talk about ‘slow flowers’! There was always a corner in an old, wood and glass greenhouse where a few camellia trees grew to provide a few flowers for a valentine.

When I was a teen I worked at a local florist who had acquired an even older range of glasshouse here in Worcester, MA. This was the mid 1970’s but there were still 100 year old glasshouse about. Most, such as this one were beginning to fall apart, but like so many in disrepair in suburban Boston, these were 100 foot long wonders. 

I loved searching through these old houses looking at the in-ground beds, many of which still contained crops of giant calla lilies or anemones and ranunculus. A few still raised carnations or roses as those two crops were once the largest export crops in Massachusetts before moving to Colorado and eventually other countries.

One day I had to drive over to one of the properties to cut some camellias for an elderly customer who often requested a camellia corsage. I think that this was the first time I ever actually saw a camellia plant (tree, really). In the back of one of the glasshouse towered 20 feet to the ceiling were a few old camellias, some still producing buds.

Now, for those of you in the south this must sound quaint but silly. Even in California camellias are a common landscape shrub or small tree, so I understand the lack of enthusiasm, but you have to imagine a harsh, snowy winter in New England, and the magic of these shrubs surviving.

As I grew older, I used to fly to LA for business often in February. I would stay the weekend just so I could visit Nuccio’s Nursery in Santa Barbara and sometimes attend a camellia society show at the Huntington Gardens or Descanso gardens. I only later learned that there was a local camellia society here in Massachusetts that was still holding an annual show (one of the oldest flower shows in the country). These shows eventually moved to Tower Hill Botanic Garden, where I am currently a trustee, and I eventually began entering my new camellia collection from the greenhouse, and even learned to become a judge. Funny how things evolve.

Near me, in Waltham, MA is one of the oldest glasshouse collections of Camellias. The historic greenhouses at the Lyman Estate is well known amongst New England plant people, but may not be known to others.

I try to visit their greenhouses every winter just to experience some of the oldest glasshouses in the country, but also to walk through one of the most important camellia collections still being cultivated. Some of these camellias have been moved to the Tower Hill Botanic Garden collections, so I do get to see them more often in normal years.

In my greenhouse though, I treasure my small collection of about 30 plants. I am surprised at how easy they are to maintain, and their show every winter adds tremendous joy to the long, winter months. It’s become my fifth gardening season, seeing the greenhouse come to life in early January as many of the camellias begin to bloom.

February, though, is high camellia season, not only in the south or in California, but here in my cold greenhouse, as well as in other greenhouses in the Northeast. I can’t imagine life without a bowl of camellias on the table every winter. Nearly every day I can pick a dozen or so blooms to enjoy and to deliver to neighbors. I love seeing their delight and surprise as they wonder at the peony-like blooms.

My love for camellias isn’t new, nor unique, but maybe the fact that I am in the north, and not living in the 19th century does make it a bit more special. So many of my 19th century gardening books focus on the camellia, especially in Massachusetts as glasshouses while still a luxury item, were common enough from 1800 onwards. Its a bit like living history. Imagining that President Lincoln or anyone from the 1800’s would have experienced exactly the same scents and beauty.

If you have a cool, or cold unheated room – even a glassed in mud room or porch, do try camellias in a large pot. With cold (above freezing) conditions,they are rather care free. Enjoy their blooms through the winter, and note that many species begin blooming in autumn and a few are fragrant. Bring their pots outdoors in the spring to enjoy the summer rains somewhere in light shade, and that’s about it. Never over pot, and fertilize after they bloom with a high nitrogen, organic fertilizer such as cottonseed meal.

If you can only provide them with warm, indoor temperatures – your luck may be worse, but you could try an unheated bedroom or porch. Either way, the camellia in the north provides so much therapy and joy, that its worth a try.

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