Holy Hellebores: A Remedy For The Winter Blues

We’re tantalizingly close to spring and I’m wondering: Is your late winter garden in bloom yet? Snowdrops don’t count.

If you’re growing tired of the same old daffodils, crocus and, of course, snowdrops, I’ve got a plant for you. Deer typically shy away from it — except in the coldest and snowiest of winters, like this — and voles don’t bother them, either.

Once known as the “Christmas rose” and the “Lenten rose,” the hellebore — which is a hardy perennial — isn’t a rose at all, but more closely related to the buttercup. It just needs to be planted, given a little time to establish and then promptly ignored as it returns every year to brighten the early garden — and probably amaze you.

Even if we get a late snow, the flowers will push through and bloom undaunted. Drought? No problem. A dry spot near an oak tree? Not a challenge at all. These gems will begin to flower in mid to late February, then into March, and many well through April.

I wrote about these plants just a few years ago. But now with a collection of my own that covers about 18 varieties, I have a much better understanding of what they’ll do and where they belong.

Let’s get the bad news out of the way first. While the newer hybrids have much nicer flowers, the plants tend to be a bit thin and need denser planting to be appreciated. Also, after a hard freeze, the foliage can get a little ratty. My suggestion is to plant them en masse where they’ll be noticed from a short distance, but not in prominent spots — unless you want to thin out the unattractive late winter foliage. When in bloom, though, they are nothing short of glorious considering the time of the year.

I’d heard about hellebores but had never grown or seen them until about 20 years ago, when I was cleaning up a garden at work that we called the “finger border” — shaped like a long arm with gardens stretched out like fingers. It was March and I was removing fallen leaves from the previous autumn when I began spotting 1-to-2-inch flower buds pushing up through the litter on stiff stems.

The next day, the buds opened into flowers that seemed a bit shy and didn’t want to show their smiling faces. But, sure enough, more of the flowers opened and, a week later, the entire understory of the garden was covered with white, pink and rose flowers.

As it turned out, these hellebores were pretty common, but still a delightful surprise. The discovery inspired me to do my research, and I learned that they were mostly evergreen perennials, where the foliage dies back late in the winter or early spring, just as the new flowers appear. In some years, the new foliage is just like us — wanting to get up and out and see some sun — but in years like this, when we had some serious freeze-ups, that foliage can burn and crisp a bit.

Not to worry. Even if the flowers get bitten by a cold snap, they simply laugh it off, slow down and still emerge in full bloom as soon as it warms again. The foliage remains green and tidy right through the summer, fall, and into early winter, so the plant even provides a second function as a bit of a ground cover. When fully open, the leaves are divided into seven to nine segments with an umbrella-like shape.

The problem, at one time, was that hellebores were a bit boring. Yes, they flowered really early and are one of the true harbingers of spring, but more often than not, the flowers would nod or face down at the ground, not upright or even outright. You could clearly see that they were flowering, but you only got a good look at the flowers if you were down on your knees. So, it was a garden plant of interest, but one of unrealized potential.

That began to change about 20 to 25 years ago, when several British breeders began to cross-pollinate varieties in earnest. Plant hunters discovered more garden candidates in other parts of Europe, Syria and China, and breeders found that it was actually quicker to produce seeds through careful pollination, rather than multiply the plants by dividing them. Today, the modern technique of tissue culture has come into play, as well.

As a result, we now have over 80 varieties of hellebores available — some have flowers on taller stems that face outwards, not downwards — across a broad color spectrum. Subtle pinks, whites and near-reds are joined by yellow, rose, red, purple that’s nearly black, bi-colors and doubles. The variety “Pippa’s Purple” has pink to burgundy flowers, and a pinkish variegation that shows up on the leaves and stems. There is one that even looks like an old-fashioned rose and goes by the name “True Love.”

The flowers are now classified into four forms, which can be found as named varieties but sold as Helleborus hybridus. The “anemone centered” have nectaries that are slightly enlarged and colored to form a noticeable ruff around the center of the flower. The “double flowered” types have nectaries that reverted to their origins as petals, giving the flowers up to 30 “petals” and no nectaries at all. The “picotee” can have pale flowers with red or purple edging on the petals, and sometimes purple veins and nectaries. Lastly, the “spotted group” features spotting on the inside of their single or double flowers.

For those who need more choices and want to establish a more exotic collection, you can get into the Helleborus species, as opposed to the hybrids. There are about 25 species, including the green-flowered H. abchasicus and H. foetidus, which can grow up to 3 feet tall, whereas most hybrids top out at around 18 inches.

My collection, which I started about 12 years ago, only includes 80 plants or so, all hybrids — and it took until last year for me to realize what incredible plants they are, especially after a drab and gray winter.

But, remember, if you buy the old standards, you’ll likely be less than enthused by the flowers, which won’t look at you. The newer varieties have flowers that at least face upwards a bit — some even look towards the sky — that plant enthusiasts can find at Plant Delights Nursery and Bluestone Perennials.

A few growing notes: Take care of the plants the first year. Don’t coddle them, but don’t let them wither and shrivel in a summer drought, either. As a rule, they like some shade and, once established, they really need no care at all, not even feeding. The soil should be rich and on the acidic side, but they may resent constantly wet spots. After a few years, the plants can be divided in the fall, but you may have more fun collecting the seed, which you can do in late summer and sow them in pots sunk in the garden. Seeds need to overwinter outside and will germinate the following spring. Seedlings rarely come true, as the parents are noted as being promiscuous.

So far, my favorite hybrids are “Painted Doubles” (I just ordered more of these), “Amber Gem,” “Rio Carnival,” “Royal Carnival,” “Harlequin Gem” and “Rose Quartz.” “Confetti Cake” seems to be my latest bloomer, with flowers still opening in early June. My collection is limited, though, so these are only the ones that have worked for me so far. You’ll probably want to try trios of the ones you like, and then add more once you see how they do. Or go crazy and do a mass planting.

Keep growing.