A big thank-you to everyone who emailed suggestions for winter column topics.

I'm going to selfishly begin with Gwen, who wants to know how to grow lavender. So do I. She says she has a few plants but thinks they could do better. Me, too.

I had two lavender plants. I pulled them out this summer because it wasn't worth the effort or precious space in my small yard to keep waiting for them to turn into more than a scraggly bundle of sticks with a few gray leaves. I don't think I ever saw a flower, meaning no fragrance, in all those years of waiting.

Lavender comes in two main types. French lavender is the kind you see in photos of Provence.

I saw them in Provence firsthand. I took my daughter to France the summer after Sept. 11, 2001. Lots of French people were there -- but not a single other tourist or so it seemed. We kept mostly to the countryside, where the gardens are.

This is the France I love best. How many times can you photograph the Eiffel Tower before you've had enough?

Because I was traveling with my daughter, I'd booked lodgings at all of our 25 or so destinations, which is not my usual mode of travel. We found that rural innkeepers did not share our sense of time.

Most of the inns were small, family-run places that had been open since before Napoleon. They served dinner as part of the package. Our habit was to get lost (I was driving) and roll in late. By that, I mean after 5 p.m.

What's curious about Europeans is their double standard in such matters. They typically dine late in the evening. And yet, when Americans show up, they are incensed when they don't comply with what they associate with customs in the U.S.

Or maybe they just don't like to be kept waiting. This I understand. The longer you fail to appear at the appointed hour, the more they fear they will be left with only the down payment for consolation.


Our stay in Provence was especially traumatic. Our host clearly despised Americans.

Never mind that their country depends on tourism.

The hotel I booked in Provence was the most lavish and the most unpleasant I've ever experienced. Its exceptional beauty was in inverse proportion to the nasty disposition of every French person on the premises.

My daughter and I would flee to the lavender patch for comfort after another barely comprehensible (my French is not, mercifully, perfect) tongue-lashing over our unconventional hours and who knows what else. We would fling ourselves, fully clothed (maybe that was the problem), into the stunning, small pool tucked behind the lavender bushes, only to endure more contempt. This was because couples (the place was known as a rendezvous for men and their mistresses) were arrayed on the chaises in various states of dishabille (this is French for "undress.")

You don't need to know anything else about French lavender. Go to France if you must see it for yourself. It's not hardy here, and I'm not sure our summers are long enough for annual French lavender.


On to the English variety. Gertude Jekyll made lavender a staple of her garden and all others that followed in the Jekyll path. Her claim to fame is the long perennial border, with which she created drifts of color from cool (lavender) to hot (dahlias, red-hot pokers and the like).

English lavender comes in three types -- small, medium and large. The most famous dwarf stands a foot high and is called "Munstead," after Jekyll's manor house and garden, Munstead Wood. Its purplish-pink to violet-blue flower spikes are slightly fragrant. "Hidcote Superior" is an improved variety that boasts deep lavender flowers.

A bit larger is the lavender called simply Hidcote. Like those previously mentioned, it belongs to the species L. angustifolia. It resembles "Hidcote Superior" but grows to just about 2 feet, while "Hidcote Giant" (L. x intemedias andan) grows to more than 3 feet with 2-foot flower stems and a lusty fragrance.

Few Minnesotans grow lavender as well as the French or the English. For one thing, it's too cold here. Lavender is a Zone 5 plant, but one, in my experience, is really Zone 6. You need a microclimate to grow it successfully.

Someplace sunny with a wall or terrace nearby to store the warmth would be ideal. Our long, cold winters are tough on these plants because they're subshrubs, meaning they're part perennial and part woody plant -- think lilacs. That means they never disappear entirely in winter, and new growth can emerge from branches, not just from roots.

This is why we're advised not to prune our lavender plants until well into summer -- we just might prune off that fresh new growth -- and never to cut them to the ground as we do our perennials.

Lavender's dubious reputation as a low-maintenance plant is owing to its drought-resistance. But water generally is available in Minnesota.

We're probably in for extremes of dry and wet weather in the future, but gardeners typically don't flock to the garden center asking after drought-tolerant plants. People who want a low-maintenance landscape might, but not gardeners.

The latter are perfectly content to get out the hose once in a while, and they don't abandon their home landscapes in midsummer to hang out at the lake for weeks on end. Gardeners stay home and garden.



-- Last call for the following fall chores: Bring in the hose, and turn off the outside faucet so the lines don't freeze. Put away tools. Mow to shred the leaves that have accumulated on the lawn since the last time you raked. Move whole leaves to flower beds for winter insulation. Just don't leave them on the grass. Finally, plant those tulip bulbs.

-- Drain gas-powered mowers.

-- Tools that are scraped free of mud and rust are more easily cleaned and oiled in spring. Or maybe it just seems that way.

-- Remove the blades from the mower and take them to someone who will sharpen them. You will feel very pleased with yourself on May 1.

-- On a similar note, bring your fall leaves to the municipal compost site, so that when you show up in April for compost, you'll know you've earned your share. Please leave your leaves at home if they are contaminated with herbicide, pesticide, fungicide or anything ending in "-cide."

Contact Bonnie Blodgett at bonnie@gardenletter.com.