(Helleborus orientalis and hybrids)
Lenten Roses are a welcome sight after a long, lifeless winter. Hardy between USDA zones 4 – 8, they are among the earliest flowers to bloom., emerging from clumps of attractive, evergreen foliage about two feet high and 15 inches across.
The colorful sepals come in shades of green-white, through mauve pink and plum to a deep wine red. Some newer hybrids add a pale yellow to the mix. (The inconspicuous petals act as nectaries, luring bees with their sweet nectar.) Blooms come in single or double forms. Recently, breeders have developed cultivars with an open, anemone-type flower.
Originally native to Eurasia, all Hellebores are dangerously poisonous. From their roots, ancient cultures created medicines used to treat paralysis, gout, and especially insanity. It was frequently used as a purgative. Historians believe an overdose of Hellebore may have killed Alexander the Great. As some people are sensitive to the sap, it’s a good idea to wear gloves when tending your plants.




“Oh, it’s just another Mallard.”
Your seed catalogs are well-thumbed by now. You have all your favorite varieties flagged, along with some new offerings you’re eager to try. After months of indoor weather, the gardening urge is looming large. It’s tempting to go overboard, and order every seed listed. Making a vegetable garden plan will help keep your cravings in proportion to your needs.
You can’t miss them. Black-billed Magpies are big, noisy, and distinctive in their black, navy, and white plumage. Their elegant long tails add to the tuxedo effect. They’re basically crows in formal attire.
Angelina Stonecrop is a garden asset all year long. In summer, the low-growing succulent forms spreading mats of cheerful yellow-green, adorned with clusters of yellow star-shaped flowers. These blooms attract butterflies. But it is in winter that Angelina really shines, when those same fleshy leaves turn an incredible, brilliant orange, with subtle shades of red and yellow. The colors are so intense, the ground appears to be on fire. Such a show would be welcome at any time, but is especially appreciated when everything else is dead or dormant.
Here in Colorado, January is a time of muted shades—tan grasses, soft yellow willows, maroon sedges, gray seedheads—and erratic weather. Highs in the 50s are immediately followed by snow or a sub-zero wind-chill. I was craving green leaves, bright colors, tropical humidity against my chapped skin. In the midst of suspended existence, I needed a fix of fecundity. So last Saturday, my husband and I paid a visit to the tropics. We drove to Broomfield, just west of Denver, home of the