Too much is never enough. When the last plant was tucked in last fall, He Who Mows said he thought I needed a bigger greenhouse. Perhaps I need to limit what I grow and bring inside.
I frequently look at Pins of Greenhouses online. Favorites of Pinners run to ancient ruins that could never be heated with obviously rotten window frames and tendrils of vines growing through gaps. Favorite accoutrements are chandeliers, upholstered chairs and tables with seating for eight. Rarely do the faves have an abundance of plants, mostly just a palm and some nice pots or even Bunny Mellon's famous greenhouse with all the trompe l'oeil. My tables for 8 are mostly for 8 big pots of something.
Last year's Kalanchoes are now 14 inches high and budded. They graduated from here to the back shelf of the potting bench for more light.
They are so top-heavy they'll need cachepots to keep them upright.
The primary components of a working greenhouse are damp and dirt. A dry greenhouse does not make for happy plants, so everything must be water resistant. In dry climates, some kind of mist system makes for very happy plants and helps with the tendency of a green house temperature to quickly rise to 30 degrees higher than the outside on a sunny day. Where the water from the mist settles determines placement of certain components, like a potting bench, painted items and electrical panels.
Dirt is a given. Potting soil does not stay in pots; transfer of potting medium from a bag to a container makes for dust and spills. Dead leaves and blossoms tend to fall or need removing. I can't sit and drink tea; I have to pinch dead blooms and sweep up.
I have not found it possible to store enough of daytime heat generated by the sun to keep the greenhouse warm all night, but ample thermal mass helps to mediate daytime heat and nighttime loss. Thermal mass in the form of water, concrete and brick must be carefully utilized. My water barrels support a broad shelf across the east end of the greenhouse. Sunny days mean a ventilating fan runs to try to keep temps down to 90 degrees. When we got back from Rose City this morning, it was 51º outside and the closed greenhouse was 81º -- quick, open the door!
Believing that every little bit helps, I fill 6-8 one-gallon jugs early afternoon that I use for watering the next day so they have time to absorb heat from the sun and give it up during the night. The floor is covered with a square path of concrete pavers with brick, urbanite and loose pebbles in the center, more mass and kind of decorative too.
Yeah, I do a lot of hand watering. Just directing a hose-end sprayer toward some pots doesn't work for me. I need to pull out that plastic pot and check the heft of it, note if some mean bug has gotten on a plant and see if I need to do anything else after I make sure the plastic pot drained before I put it back in the cachepot so it doesn't sit in water. Cachepots are not just for decoration, they help keep cheap plastic pots from falling over when foliage gets top-heavy.
Heaters take space. I use two electric heaters turned to low. They need floor space where they don't blow directly on plants. During a warm spell they get moved away from the electric panel and back when it is cold again .
Seasons change. Pots that were prominent at Christmas lose their blossoms and need to move to make room for late winter plants in bloom, in turn replaced with spring seedlings. It's fruit basket turn over much of the time: making room for bulbs, moving some pots to the sun or in the shade.
Frog Poop, did I mention frog poop? It's everywhere in places like bromeliad leaves. Large commercial greenhouses spray for everything. I spritz around a little soap and olive oil sometimes for white fly but mostly I depend on critters' help. Little green peeper frogs are everywhere. One usually leaps on my head when I open the door at night or early morning. Green frogs leap out of cachepots when I pull out a pot to water.
I have to watch for toads making themselves a home in moist potting soil. Critical plants have to be up high, not at floor level if they haven't room for a toad. Anoles and eastern fence lizards roam freely. Chemicals are not on my agenda. Once you start, the critters are gone and spraying has to be kept up. Rare sick plants get tossed here. I discarded a diseased Amaryllis the other day. Things like scale get rubbing alcohol swabbing.
I've seen complaints about greenhouse mice. A greenhouse cat means no mice, but the cat has to have space. Ike the cat claims part of the potting bench, which needs to be cleared anyhow and a space back behind the potting bench that is a little shadier. I leave him a clear path to get where he thinks he must go and take care to block where he just wants to climb over plants chasing anoles. We had a squirrel invasion back in the fall, taken care of by He Who Mows and Has a Shotgun. I do make one exception: I use chemicals outside in the war against fire ants to keep them out of the greenhouse.
The really odd thing in a greenhouse is that plants tend to grow. I'm always giving something a bigger pot. Pieces just will break off and I am not about to toss something that might take root, given a little pot and a bit of soil. What started as 6 different Schlumbergera were soon 24 at summer's end. It's like finding homes for puppies -- you want them to go, but to good homes.
Faced with an abundance of spider plants, begonias and foxtail fern at the beginning of fall, I jammed them in pots together. Dozens of Alternanthera cuttings will fit into a coffee mug. Persian Shield and Purple Heart share a long planter. They'll be handy in spring when I need lots more purples and chartreuses.
Merry Christmas. I hope you get a greenhouse, a big one.
If you have a greenhouse, I wish for you accoutrements.
Be prepared for dirt and damp but it isn't really work.