English

CONIFERS

OUTDOORS THE LEAVES are ablaze with color. But every day, another tree or shrub goes naked. And every morning, I wake up to the squawking of Canada geese hysterically announcing their takeoff, arrival, or intention of making yet another reconnaissance mission to check out the pond at my property’s farthest point. That’s not the only morning music—there’s also the reassuring hum of the furnace firing up to warn me that the path down to the goat barn will be slippery with frost when I venture out to do the morning chores. Sure enough, when I slip out of bed, find my slippers, and make my way through a hallway booby-trapped by mangled kitten toys, I look out the window to confirm what I suspected—it frosted again last night. Almost every houseplant I pad past seems grateful that it was chosen to be shepherded back into the fold. But sometimes I wonder about the conifers. Would they have preferred to remain outside? It’s one of those instances where I need them more than they need me.

Mornings run like clockwork around here. Exercises, shower, breakfast. For breakfast, the traditional morning yogurt is consumed on the table surveying the entire Great Room from the far end of the converted barn. Most of the meal is spent shuffling aimlessly through the stack of magazines and newspapers on the table. But between the letters to the editor and the obituaries, I occasionally glance up. And when I do, the potted conifers come into my field of vision. There’s something infinitely comforting in that view. As much as conifers slip into the background outdoors, they stand out inside. A few years ago, I began framing my windows by bringing a few potted conifers indoors, and now they’ve become a fixture.

Originally, it was just a stopgap measure. On a whim, I bought Cupressus arizonica ‘Blue Ice’, and then discovered it is only marginally hardy in my unpredictable region. Rather than putting it in the ground, I placed it in a massive long tom–shaped container. Over the summer, I became rather fond of the blue-green fellow as it stood sentinel beside the front door. Meanwhile, it showed its grit by surmounting the challenges of low light thanks to the massive maple that shades the front of the house. Come fall, the obvious solution to the “what now?” quandary might have been to plant it and throw caution to the wind. Instead, I procrastinated. And procrastinated. When the window of safe transplanting opportunity outdoors slammed shut, it was marched indoors—with a little help from my (muscular) friends. And it changed my world. That started a whole spate of experimentation with conifers.

Next came a juniper, purchased at slashed prices at an autumn nursery sale. In the fall leaf-raking, bulb-planting rush, I failed to get it into the ground (are we noticing a trend here?). To be specific, it was Juniperus procumbens ‘Nana’, and I began to like the way it spread out at right angles from its nursery container, like a teased-out bouffant. So it was given an industrial metal cylinder container and brought inside. Chamaecyparis pisifera ‘Boulevard’ followed suit (by that time, the conifers no longer needed justification). Although the chamaecyparis gave the strongest silhouette and went furthest toward establishing the mood of a forest indoors, it was not the easiest conifer to care for inside. The juniper, on the other hand, never let out a whimper.

The critical secret to success with conifers lies in their containers. They demand something deep, with plenty of root room to plunge down, but also a sufficiently broad base so that the root ball isn’t cramped. You need to be able to water easily and effectively. The main cause of death for conifers inside is drying out because of lack of water. Problem is, they are not whiners; a conifer will rarely, if ever, wilt. So check the soil and water generously, keeping in mind that you are quenching a large mass of roots. Skip fertilizer. For the duration the conifers remain inside, they receive no nourishment beyond the compost in the organic soil where their roots are plunging.

Practically speaking, trees of any sort work best in the periphery of a room. Junipers, in particular, tend to be prickly (and can irritate the skin on some people), so you wouldn’t want to collide with one in the dark. Off the beaten track, they take the same position they usually assume outside: they’re the strong-and-silent types standing on the sidelines. It’s one of those delicious moments when design and necessity merge.

Plus, conifers need a light source. Mine dote on their eastern exposure and do just fine, even though the sun is not strong during the winter. Rather than placing them on the floor, I raise them up—they sit on an inverted antique rain barrel or straddle a metal stool. This keeps the wooden floor from harm. The elevation adds to their stature (and conifers make great exclamation points indoors), and the raised height puts them squarely in the window, delivering the dosage of light the foliage craves.

As soon as temperatures moderate sufficiently to keep their containers from cracking, out the conifers go. I don’t wait for danger of frost to pass entirely. At the maximum, they’re inside for five months. After that, they need the fresh air and I need the space to start seedlings.

• ALSO CALLED: false cypress, juniper