In addition to planting your spring-blooming bulbs like daffodil and crocus, fall is an excellent time to get a jump start on your spring and summer flower garden with seeds. It’s much easier than sowing in spring, for one thing. You probably have more time, and, also, you won’t have to water every day – assuming we get our regular winter rains. You just need to sow the seeds now, let the rain keep the seeds hydrated for you, and wait.
Which plants to choose? The key lies in finding seeds that prefer a cold period before germinating – or that can tolerate one. When searching in catalogs or online, look for phrases like “cold stratification,” “winter sown” and “direct-seeded” varieties.
Just a note – I did experiment with the internet hit “winter sowing” last year in some milk jugs filled with dirt. If you’re not aware, you cut a gallon jug in half so the top opens, fill with dirt, add seeds and tape back together. While at first, I had great germination, as weeks went on, they all slowly died off, and wind-carried weeds took their place. So, I’m talking about direct seeding here, sans milk jugs.
Or you could start with these:
Sweet peas
My friend Joan is always pushing the boundaries of garden rules. One year she had sweet peas blooming in January in a container by her door.
“Oh those? I put those in in September,” she said.
It was an exceptionally mild winter, but that’s a significant jump start. When I usually plant in March, it’s May or June before I see blooms. The whole pea family likes sweater weather, so why not start them early?
Despite the seemingly endless wait, I plant sweet peas almost every year for the hit of delicious fragrance they give with a bonus of elegant flowers in saturated, royal colors – magenta, cranberry, blue and pink. “April in Paris” is white tinged in lavender, with heady perfume. There’s one renegade on the warm side of the color wheel – “Prince of Orange” – that I plan to try.
Before planting, soak sweet peas in water for 24 hours or until a little tendril peeks out from the seed. I use a damp paper towel in an open plastic zipper bag or storage container.
Calendula
I’ve sung the praises of calendula in a column on long-bloomers that bridge the seasons, but there’s so much to love about these, that I’ll risk it. Calendula is edible, can be used in soaps, salves or oils, is extremely easy to grow and blooms on and off for months, favoring cooler temperatures. It also re-seeds itself “politely” as gardeners say, meaning seedlings are easy to remove if you like. They are in the orange-yellow spectrum, sometimes with a little pink. I like them all, but especially the bicolors.
The seeds look like curved cocoons, little spirals, so they are easy to hold and plant for anyone – even kids.
Nigella
I’m not sure why the common name for this flower is “Love-in-a-Mist.” “Space Station Z” would be more like it. It looks like a landing pad for the Mars Rover. These plants are delightfully intricate in structure and come in a range of blues, whites and purples. They can take rough neighborhoods, since they live happily in my parking strip, with nearly no supplemental water, and seed around all over (but politely, again). Even the seed pods are fun on this one, so if you give some away, it could be mistaken for a holiday ornament.
Cerinthe major also known as “Honeywort”
This one is a real conversation starter. The flowers drip, perhaps like drops of honey, one upon the next until a chain of almost navy blue has formed, which complements the glaucous foliage perfectly. Some have re-seeded and cuddled up against my blue grama grass bouteloua “Blonde Ambition,” and I couldn’t be happier. It prefers life on the drier side.
Annual poppies
This one I’ve only read about, but research says California poppies (Eschscholzia californica), so-called opium or breadseed poppies (Papaver somniferum), and field of Flanders/Shirley poppies (Papaver rhoeas), can all be direct sown in the fall. California poppies have seeded about in my yard; there’s a cultivar named “Thai Silk” that is apricot, pink and butterscotch. I had high hopes for “Amazing Gray,” a P. rhoeas cultivar, but will have to keep trying that one. With double petals in pewter, silver and purple, it is truly amazing.
What will you plant now to amaze you next year?