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*2 becomes 200: how to divide trillium

Thank you Barbara from awaytogarden.com
April 22, 2012 at 9:41 am
(In the Northwest we mostly see white Trillium, but the same advice follows)

I DON’T RECALL HOW I FOUND THEM—maybe it was while fixing something, or painting the house all those years ago. But for some reason I was down at ground level, peering under the floor of the front porch, and there they were, in near-darkness: two tiny trillium plants.  I rescued them, and you know how it goes when a plant thanks you for your help: Now I have hundreds, thanks to those first two, and to a tip handed down from a great gardener about dividing them when they’re in flower. Yes, like right now.

The books, and most experts, will recommend you wait until around fall, but sometimes trilliums and other ephemerals aren’t so easy to find by then as they are in spring, in their flowering glory (above). This little “aha” was imparted to me and Ken Druse by Evelyn Adams of Wellesley, Massachusetts, when we visited her garden awash in trilliums one spring, working on the 1994 book “The Natural Habitat Garden.”

“How did you get so many?” Ken asked the elderly Adams, and it was simple, she said: She dug them up and separated them when they were in flower—you know, when you can see just where they all are, since none have gone dormant.

The instruction made such an impression that Ken and I have both been doing it this way—not waiting till late summer or fall—for years.  (Wild plants must never be dug for this or any purpose. Commercially, trillium are ethically propagated by seed.) Since their rhizomes are barely below the soil surface, you hardly have to dig very deep to find the mass of tangled roots and rhizomes.

Each division from your garden needs to have at least an eye or growing point, but neither of us cuts them up into tiny bits—in fact, I just gently tease apart the clumps descended from those two native Trillium erectum, or wake-robin, and replant each rhizome. I count 10 divisions in that shovelful, above, each of which will become an entire clump. They’ll need to be watered well, especially the ones that have top-heavy flowers on them, and then baby-sat a bit till they resettle, but the divisions typically bloom the next year.

My favorite day to do this: a rainy one, like today.

Anatomy of a Trillium

(From Tony Avent at Plant Delights)

“TRILLIUMS have an interesting anatomy,” Tony Avent writes in the Plant Delights catalog. “The three ‘leaves’ that give trillium plants their characteristic form are actually bracts. The true leaves are greatly reduced structures that surround the underground rhizome. Trillium seeds are also fascinating…they are attached to a nutritious structure called an elaiosome that insects love to eat. When trillium seeds are ripe, ants and wasps carry them to their nests where they consume the elaiosome and leave the seed to germinate…a horticultural win-win situation.”

*Painting, like life, continues to evolve…

By Leslie Ann Butler
Leslie Ann shares her experience as a painter on being inspired, getting unstuck – and on following your dreams. You can see more of Leslie Ann’s work here

Background
My professional art career began with portraits: magic happened when I seemed to connect with my animal and human subjects and began my journey for capturing the essence and spirit of people and pets in my work. I was thrilled that my clients laughed and cried with joy and delight at these results. With bold color and a suggestion of motion, my work asks the viewer to seek the light. Constrained by the physical, we are trapped by walls of dreams and delusion and unable to see reality, which is unending joy. We choose to be defined by our seeming limitations instead of emerging into the realization that we are powerful beings with infinite consciousness. I strive to bring to light the reality that lives deep within, beyond what one can see with outer sight. The creative process does not end with the physicality of the painting, but is continued and enhanced through the eyes of each beholder into the creation of thoughts and emotions it brings out in them; this magic dance of connection is proof that we are not separate.

I’d like to say that inspiration came right away. But that didn’t happen. Every morning I went into my studio and went to work. Paint splattered everywhere and what I didn’t get on me went on the walls, chairs and ceiling. I’d stand at my easel with brush in hand and to no one in particular, hollered “I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING! HELP!!!”

I work with acrylic paint, paper, gold and silver leaf, charcoal and pastels. In many paintings I have added a paint- obscured slide which symbolizes the veil that covers our true vision. I paint squares and rectangles which can be either windows that open to the light or boxes that shut it out.

Awakening. The Beginning.
Working all hours, I managed to create 20 paintings in 17 days. Aside from the self-imposed stress, making that much art that fast was a good exercise for me. I started feeling the freedom of doing abstract work. The first attempts still had a bit of figurative quality in them, but only accidentally.

Here is one of my first abstract paintings, “The Stance”:

I had imagined and longed for – and was finally experiencing — the exhilaration of not following any form or making a painting “look like something.”

As I continued to work, I became even freer and was able to break away completely from form. The painting below “The Stance”, called “Magic,” is a good example of the first series of abstracts I feel qualified as true abstract work, and named the series “Awakening.”

But it didn’t stop there.

Meditations
A breakthrough! Last September I was deep in meditation when suddenly I saw paintings – like a slide show, one after than the other, one more unusual than the next, flashing before my closed eyes. I had never seen anything like them before, and I had never had an experience like this before. I grabbed a pad and pencil and sketched out thumbnails so I would remember, and closed my eyes again. Surprisingly, the slide show continued and I could hardly keep up with the parade of paintings I saw. The pile of papers beside my chair grew.

The next day I ventured into my studio to try to put on canvas what I had seen in meditation. I placed a 20” x 24” canvas on the floor of my studio and with some trepidation and before I could think too hard about it, I managed to break the intimidating solid white background with a bold swath of black. Then I walked around my studio, waiting for something – a voice telling me that this was good, perhaps? Not sure if I was doing the right thing, I made another bold stroke of red. Not too bad! I realized this was not life or death. I looked at my minimalist thumbnail and the sketchy guidance it revealed. The rest of the inspiration was waiting to descend — and I paced, wondering what to do next. Over a period of 12 hours I was “given” directions as to what to do with that first painting and two more paintings. It was like magic!

I love this work and the way it comes through me. I don’t feel as if I am the one painting at all. It is coming from a completely different place than I’ve ever experienced before.
Here is one of the first paintings in this series which I call “Meditations”, named “Ascending:”

I love what’s happening and continue to look forward with anticipation as to what comes next!