Did anyone feel it? When we crossed over into an entire new planting zone? While many haven’t really noticed the changes, most gardeners have.
When I started gardening here nearly 25 years ago, we were zone 6a…and parts of my property on the down-slope and with winter shade were more like 5b. But now—7a, and I have very mixed feelings about this.Of course, on the one hand, there are now more planting options—but on the other, it’s just confirmation of that’s which we’ve known…we’re warming, and rapidly.
When you are a gardener and grower, you pay attention to weather and weather patterns, especially seasonal ones. Now, more than ever, when something gets planted may change from year to year, depending on the prevailing weather pattern for that particular season. I remember taking interest in temperature records and was noticing our lows weren’t all that low anymore and I watched this trend continue.
In the early 80s I listened to my sister and her husband (she a meteorologist and he an astro-physicist, both working for Goddard Space Flight Center at the time), talk about the knowledge that we would start seeing a warming planet in the near future and why. So, I knew it was coming.
In preparation, about 15 years ago I starting experimenting with zone-pushing (planting things hardy to a zone warmer than yours) and began my attempts at establishing zone 7 plants. Early attempts were failures, as I didn’t know what establishing a zone 7 plant should entail.But as my gardening acumen and interest in habitat gardening grew, I got more serious about WHAT I should be planting. I saw our conifers seemed to be dying all around us, and broadleaf evergreens were conspicuously absent in our area. Martinsville used to be filled with majestic Eastern hemlocks—now nearly all gone. White Pines and spruces were dead or dying everywhere you looked.
Conifers are important to birds since they provide shelter (and sometimes food) but also are important to other trees and plantings as they act as windbreaks during the worst of winter. I needed something to replace a Blue Spruce that finally gave up its struggle and peacefully went to horticultural heaven, so I chose an Arizona ‘Blue Ice’ Cypress—a solid zone 7 tree.
My neighbor called it the "Dr. Seuss tree"…a comically gangly, spindly whip about 5’ tall when planted. It was meant to serve primarily to block an awful view to the road and muffle the street noise as well. Its planting location gets blasted with NW winter winds and was also too far away to consistently water. This type of cypress is accustomed to the desert southwest, so it seemed like the best option for the spot. And to my surprise—it took. And judging by the growth rate (10’ in 10 years), it was happy. The birds positively love it in the winter and American Robins are fond of nesting in it’s upper bristly branches in the spring. Today it stands about 16’ tall and still going strong.
Emboldened by success, I added two non-natives, chosen for very specific reasons.
I chose Clerodendrum trichotomum, (Harlequin Glory Bower) for a very late season hummingbird nectar source--as well as the production of berries available during late fall bird migration. This tree was killed to the ground twice by exceptionally cold winters, but has re-sprouted from the roots each time and has now attained a height of about 12'.
I also chose Eleagnus ebbingei, which I believe is the only Silverberry species not known for invasive tendencies; this satisfied my need for an broadleaf evergreen for dry shade that was also highly resistant to deer (if you are a gardener, you know this combination is virtually non-existent). The fact it was known for fragrant fall flowers and sparse but edible drupes were a bonus.
It struggled for several years, then settled in and exploded in size…but the winter of 2013/2014 nearly did it in. It dropped its leaves in spring and I noticed a huge crack in the the largest base root. After sulking and limping along for a couple years, it rebounded and healed over the root crack. I got lucky with this one. If it hadn’t been establishing as long as it was before that polar vortex winter from hell, it most certainly would have died. Bees go gaga for the flowers, its fragrance fills my yard in October, and it’s hands-down a bird favorite for its density—especially when they’re trying to evade pesky Merlins and Sharp-Shinned/Cooper’s hawks. I often see Coops running in circles on the ground under this shrub, trying to flush out the sparrows (and if you’ve ever witnessed a Cooper’s Hawk running, you’d know it’s like watching a tiny, determined velociraptor run with all the finesse of a frantic chicken).
So why did I plant non-natives in the two cases above? While native choices are certainly preferable, sometimes there’s just aren’t any that fit the bill when you have highly specific site or wildlife requirements. My feelings on non-natives are: if they’re not invasive—and if they provide legitimate wildlife value—they’re better than having nothing in the same spot. If I need something that has to solve a problem for us, my rule is that it must also provide significant benefit for wildlife or pollinators—otherwise I’ll need to find something else.
I’ve kept adding zone 7 plants over the years and certainly lost quite a few (most often to winter wet, not cold)—but the successes began outnumbering the losses, and that makes sense now that we’ve crossed into our new zone. I am particularly fond of the Mahonia we’ve added, which provides evergreen leaves and sunny yellow flowers in either winter or early spring and produces chains of berries which are LOVED by birds (especially Gray Catbirds).
Most recently, I began experimenting with establishing Loblolly pines (a native south-eastern conifer), in hopes it’s southern heritage will help it survive our increasingly extreme summer humidity and frequent torrential rainfall events. A forester I follow on X (formerly Twitter) has mentioned many of the experimental agricultural stations are doing the same, and testing southern pine species here in the Northeast in hopes they can get ahead of the inevitable and revive our dying conifer forests.
So, if you’re thinking about adding some new plants to your central NJ garden, enjoy your new Zone 7a options---but maybe you should start eyeing Zone 8a specimens too…it’ll be here before you know it.
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