Garden Rant

Not Much Lead in White House Garden

But still somehow newsworthy. Little bit of lead never hurt anybody, right?  Whatever's in the soil, that garden is looking pretty durn good.

Before and After in the Garden of Shirley Bovshow

Sure, I was in Los Angeles last weekend for a family wedding but - Hallelujah! - there was time for some garden-touring.  One whole day of it Included Huntington Garden (report coming soon) and the awesome personal garden of garden designer and TV host Shirley Bovshow.  EdenMakers is her business name and it turns out it's oh-so true, way too close to Eden for this jealous Zone 7 gardener.  (I'm sick with envy but I'll get over it, I think.)

You'll see the source of that envy in my photos of the garden. Then for dramatic impact there's nothing like these before and after photos that Shirley sent me.  She couldn't have started with a blanker, flatter site.

 

 

 

But there's more.  Here's Shirley's photo page about her garden.  And here on YouTube is my video tour, along with my request for video-making suggestions (camera, software, taping techniques). 

What the photos don't show are the dozens of *edibles growing in this small space - all incorporated into the mostly ornamental plantings. 

THE TAKE-HOME from Shirley's garden, for me, is the value of hiring a good designer.  The two times I've worked with professionals have cost me little, but taken my garden - and my passion for gardening - to new heights.

*Edibles listed below the jump.

The "garden" at the American Indian Museum

It's nobody's notion of a garden; it's a re-creation of the natural environment here in the Chesapeake Bay watershed as the original inhabitants knew it.  It surrounds the awesome building and together the exterior - building and landscaping - is actually more popular than the displays indoors. 

I was given a tour of the landscape recently by Marsha Lea, the designer, along with two of her colleagues with EDAW - Jeanette Ankoma-Sey and Roger Courtenay (Roger designed the new National Garden at the U.S. Botanic Garden).

It's hard to imagine from these photos how downtown this site is, what with all the wildlife it's attracted.  Like birds galore, mallards, night herons, a family of 11 ducklings.  The plants were grown locally for the project, some by our buddy Barry Glick.  And the plants are all strictly species, no cultivars allowed.

From the museum's website we learn that:  "Four hundred years ago, the Chesapeake Bay region abounded in forests, wetlands, meadows, and Algonquian peoples’ croplands.  The [museum] restores these environments and is home to more than 27,000 trees, shrubs, and herbaceous plants representing 145 species."

But keep reading to learn about the various habitats replicated here - hardwood forest, wetland, meadow, traditional cropland and Grandfather Rocks.  It was all carefully researched and executed, and is a great addition to our National Mall.

Garden Walk!

As complaints about the summer heat reach critical mass in the blogosphere, I am reminded that the weekend for Garden Walk Buffalo approaches. Not many are complaining in Buffalo, believe me, as now is finally the time—leaving the brief moment of spring bulbs and early perennials aside—when our gardens snap into action. And color.

 This year, GWB is July 25 & 26; you can find out anything else you’d need to know about it at the link, including all the national press we’ve received and advice for those who are traveling from other parts of the country (or world; we’ve been getting some European visitors). For those of you new to this event, GWB is likely the largest garden tour of any kind in the U.S., other than Open Days (which is geographically spread out over a whole season).

A lot of my friends are on the walk and every year we worry that things won't be in bloom in time, that they'll be early or late, or that some catastrophe will happen. (Don't even say the R word.) But every year it's the same. In spite of how tall my lilies were in May, it looks as though they will bloom at exactly the same time they always do—during the Walk.

I think this year’s poster (the printers talked us into foil—that's the shiny part) is a good indication of the types of high-impact mid-summer gardens visitors will see, though there are plenty of subtler examples among the 300+ that will participate this year. It’s free, and if you’d like more info email ealicata(at)yahoo.com.

It's Good To Be Rich

photo by Jeff Goodell

The view from a porch at Kykuit, the Rockefeller estate in Pocantico Hills, NY.

Roy Blount, Jr. asks "Is Grass Still Green?"

Remember when we all laughed at the new magazine Garden&Gun?  Then it turned out to be darn good and I confessed I'd done them wrong. 

Well, in this month's issue the wonderful Roy Blount speaks up "In defense of the "good old-fashioned lawn".  My favorite bits:  "I can't see a bit of lawn as a rapacious, la-di-da indulgence."  And: "I know.  A lawn isn't natural.  Neither is a house." 

He goes on to recall the joys of lying on "Middle Georgia grass" when he was a boy.  He remembers mowing, of course, and ends with this potshot at the new political correctness:  "But it was a lot less trouble than growing vegetables."

Do Perennials Take As Long To Mature As Shrubs?

Telekia bigger than my car

Susan has been writing about massing as a way to make a garden seem substantial.  There is another way, but you have to be able to resist temptation, which I often cannot: Put down the god-damned shovel and stop moving the perennials around on every whim!

Digging up and dividing them keeps them in a state of constant adolescence.

But if you let them be, some of them will grow to the size of Priuses, and you won't necessarily need to group them in multiples and plant them in drifts in order to achieve a sense of purpose in your garden.  You can use other design strategies, such as repetition, which I find harmonious and pleasing and possibly better suited to a small city yard.

After four or five years in a good spot, perennials achieve something like stature, even the little ones like low-growing geraniums and campanulas.  I can't say that they do this too much faster than a shrub.

Patience, however, is not much emphasized in the literature of flower gardens--where the operative lie is that perennials that don't flower in their first year after planting usually flower in their second, as if the deal is finished then. 

Of course, there are exceptions.  Larry Hodgson's excellent 2005 book Making the Most of Shade, which offers sprightly and unusually frank descriptions of several hundred pages' worth of plants, is constantly cautioning that the plants will become really impressive...if you don't fuss with them.

Here is his advice, for example, on aruncus:

Just plant it and leave it.  This plant never needs dividing and thrives on neglect--moving it around or dividing it regularly slows it down.

Fortunately, my arunus dioicus are seeding themselves.  

But I have loads of other substantial perennials...and empty spots waiting for a piece of them.  Leave them alone is great advice, if you are capable of following it.  Which, I am often not.

The subject is still roses

 

There was a college-town-idiosyncratic and decidedly rural feel to my first taste of the Garden Conservancy’s Open Days program. I visited two gardens and a private rose nursery in and around Ithaca, NY with Kathy/Cold Climate Gardening. I know that Susan has been awed by the apparent wealth of the properties in Virginia and Raleigh; that is not the primary impression one gets in Tompkins County, though certainly there are some well-heeled citizens here. Here are images from the whole day, but this post will just touch on one garden.

 

Lillian Gibson (1938)

The Der Rosenmeister nursery is just outside of town, and is run by avid rosarian Lee Ginenthal. His relatively modest house is surrounded by roses, in borders (with perennials), beds, and growing over structures. An area off to the side has rows of potted roses for sale. There are old roses, species, rugosas, Explorers, Kordes, and Griffith Buck roses, with the emphasis on hardiness. This is an area where May frosts can create 25 degree overnights. Ginenthal talked a bit about what he does for the roses, which is basically nothing. No spraying, no feeding, some shovelfuls of compost now and then and—more frequently—mulching. 

 

Ginenthal’s roses are nearly all of the multi-petaled, occasionally blowsy-looking old-fashioned variety. How old-fashioned? You can buy the Apothecary Rose, dating from 1400, the Rosa Mundi (1560), or the Ghislaine de Feligonde (1916), a lovely variety we saw growing along the border—just to name 3. There are hundreds. These are the types of roses frequently dissed by many exhibiting rosarians, who don’t like what they consider to be the messy form of the old roses, and don’t bother with species and explorer types at all

.

Lee Ginenthal

Ginenthal also grows/creates bonsai, and has a fulltime job in the Ithaca school system. There are 10 Buckeye chickens on the property, who help keep Japanese beetles in check. Der Rosenmeister is open all summer by appointment; there are also workshops and an annual Open House takes place this Friday. Was I able to leave this place without buying a big climber I’ll be hard put to site on my tiny property? I was not. 

Lilies: can't live with 'em; can't stop growing 'em

 

That lily stalk looks familiar! I had to smile when I saw this image (taken by Chrys Gardener) from one of the Ithaca-area Open Days gardens I am to visit Saturday with Kathy/Cold Climate Gardening. Unlike the manicured images from Raleigh—at least, according to the pictures we saw—this somewhat less tidy image reminds me of what is going on right here in Buffalo. Every year, the lily stalks reach for the heavens, bending and swaying all over the place in the process. I have already snapped off 2 buds brushing past them as I go about my garden chores—which need to include securely staking about 30 of these.

This garden is in Ithaca; we will also be viewing 2 others in Danby and Trumansberg. Look for a report Sunday or Tuesday. Sadly, there are no Open Days in my part of New York state. That doesn’t seem right. 

Learning to live without grass

It’s been established several times here that—even though I love giving away trimmers and other equipment I'll never use—I have no grass on my property except a few weeds that look like grass. But did you know that I live in a nearly-grass-free neighborhood? Everyone on our street is affected—adversely—by a long double row of Norway maples (imposed by the city, and interspersed by a few other types of tree). I was thinking about this the other day as I walked down the street, and wondered if some of you might like to see  a nearly grassless block. At top you see an atypical example—front yard as daisy farm. This property has sun, because their tree came down in a storm. Later in the season, it becomes a rudbeckia farm, accented with ornamental grasses in the back.

 

And here we have the stone/gravel option, with some side plantings and a big Japanese maple providing most of the interest.

 

There are many, many variations of the ground cover as lawn idea (above), using vinca, pachysandra, viola (it’s a weed we embrace on my street), asperula, hedera, and others, accented by shrubs and such shade perennials as hosta, astilbe, hosta, columbine, bergenia, hosta, ferns, epimedium, and—oh, right—hosta.

 

 

As you also see here,

 

 

And here,

 

And here. The point is that for small properties with shade, grass is often the least attractive or practical option. And many of these ground covers get as close to maintenance-free as it is possible to get. They require a small amount of hand weeding, and very little water. The majority of my neighbors are not obsessive gardeners, and we have all learned to deal with our shady, root-filled front spaces as best we can. In fact, it's become sort of a fun challenge. 

 

Introducing my official Rant product tester

THANKS FOR PLAYING, EVERYONE: Claire Splan is the randomly chosen winner

Proxies come in handy sometimes. At first I loved the idea of receiving equipment to test from companies like Troy-Bilt. I’d never done it before and, besides, it was free stuff. But while I know just what to do with freebie concert tickets and bottles of organic gin, I must admit, power equipment in my tiny garden can be just a bit out of place. So for this review of Troy-Bilt’s cordless electric trimmer, I brought in a ringer, Buffalo Spree writer Catherine Berlin, shown here. Catherine regularly tests gadgets for the magazine, and actually has a lawn. Here are her thoughts on the trimmer:

Some time ago, somebody figured out that a pole with a bit of monofilament had the potential to be a tool for work, and not just a symbol of indolence. (Could it be that a widowed-feeling, weekend-fisherman’s wife came up with the power edger?) Since that “Aha!” moment, trimmers have become nearly as ubiquitous as lawnmowers. There is a surprising amount of variety among the trimmers out there. Gas gave way to electric, leading to cordless. Troy-Bilt’s entry into the field enlists ergonomic design as its selling point: the handle telescopes, so you can adjust it to a length that fits your reach and your spine’s comfort zone, from 42 inches long up to 56 inches. This may not seem to be the most exciting feature, until you consider that this means that the whole family can share in edging duties. This edger does not have a wire guide or an extra battery pack for quick switch outs, but then again, the 12” cutting swath is easy to control, the ion battery is designed to last longer before recharges, and the trimmer’s price point is an acceptable compromise.

We also appreciate the automatic line release that advances the trimmer line as needed when the trigger is pulled (because we don’t have a clue how to deal with those lines), and speaking of triggers, seriously. Once you get the feel of pulling that trigger to trim grass or edge around sidewalk and stones, you are, well, hooked for life. Perfect for a fun-filled afternoon that includes work along fences, trees, patios, and sidewalks.

Shortcomings? It didn't have a guide, which I don't use because I have an eye and I like to be able to angle the device for special edging. Some people think its 12 inch cutting range too small, but for my backyard, it is plenty big and as with all tools, I can make two swaths with something small; if the unit is too large, I can't make a swath at all. So I'd rather go small and be more precise. It's not perfect, but it is a nice tool for a manageable piece of property.—C.B.

Carol/May Dreams Gardens and Dee/Red Dirt Ramblings have also tested this.

Want a trimmer of your own? Troy-Bilt will send you one; just leave a comment about trimming—or about getting other people to do your work—and I’ll draw from them. Please leave the comments before 9 p.m. EST.

Garden Conservancy Open Days Cause Acute Bouts of Rich-Folk Envy

Not that I've ever lacked for the essentials, of course, or even tuition at a private college.  But on hot, sticky summer days I would sure love to escape the air conditioning and take a dive in this pool, surrounded by acres of gardens in possibly the richest neighborhood in all of Virginia.  Lovely setting, doncha think?
But hey, I'm not picky.  I'd be willing to take a dive into this more formal swimming pool, especially if dinner were served around it afterward.  You know, cooked by someone else.

THESE RICH FOLKS ARE ACTUALLY GARDENERS
If you're not familiar with the Garden Conservancy, it's the nonprofit that funds garden preservation.  Their main fund-raisers are the tours or Open Days, and I've gotta say all the ones I've seen are awesome.  But not because the owners have unlimited budgets - though they seem to indeed have deep pockets - but because they're also gardeners, at least all the ones I drooled over in Northern Virginia this past weekend.  Some of these owners of 5-15 acres even declare that they do all the work themselves, or  designed their gardens themselves, and that personal touch made these beauties stand out from the professionally designed and maintained estates all around them. 

Oh, just one more, the front garden of a diehard gardener, whose backyard with pool is shown in the top photo.

Return of the natives—and a Prairie School landmark—in Chicago

Just as the low-maintenance personal garden is mostly myth, the low-maintenance public landscape is even less possible. Such was the case with Alfred Caldwell’s Lily Pool (built 1936-38) in Lincoln Park. As recently as 1998, the pool, its surrounding stonework, and its plantings was “a dead world,” according to the designer when he visited it just before his death. The formerly pristine masterpiece was choked with weed trees, the stonework was damaged, and the lagoon was filled with trash.

Too bad Caldwell never lived to see the restoration that I was lucky enough to view during our garden blogger meet-up in Chicago last weekend. The lily pool is gorgeous once more, thanks to a public/private partnership that raised funds and galvanized volunteers. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many aquilegia canadensis, geranium maculatum, thalictrium dasycarpum (not sure of exact plant here), and wild phlox all together in one place before. There were also many native trees and shrubs. The stonework has been restored and the water was clear; it would be wonderful to have such a retreat in the middle of any city.

It’s interesting how this landscape—which is meant to appear natural, even wild—requires almost as much regular maintenance as any of the more contrived institutional gardens, such as the Chicago Botanic Garden or any of the conservatories in the city. Certainly the Lurie Gardens, another favorite of the group, must also require a massive amount of tending. And after listening to and reading many accounts about how native meadows must be developed and tweaked into shape, I can’t imagine making the attempt.

So all the more kudos to Chicago for being able to keep these natural places looking as they should.

Check here for a selection of pictures from the Chicago trip.

A beautiful place when it was kept up

More photos here

That phrase is in the title of a book I bought yesterday after visiting Linwood Gardens in Pavilion, New York. The illustrated memoir describes a century-old estate that has had its ups and downs—it survived a devastating fire and the Great Depression—and is now known for its magnificent tree peony collection. (You might have read about it in a recent issue of Horticulture.)

Linwood was built in 1900 as the summer estate of Buffalo lumber baron William H. Gratwick; its gardens were designed by Thomas Fox, who had completed projects in Boston and Brookline. The gardens are beautifully laid out—one area in particular is reminiscent of a Lutyens/Jekyll design at Hestercombe—but what makes Linwood important for gardeners today are its spectacular peonies. William H. Gratwick, Jr. started hybridizing tree peonies with the assistance of A. P. Saunders in 1935, later working with Nassos Daphnis. The hybridization stopped with Gratwick’s death, but the gorgeous results can still be seen every May in Pavilion.

This was my first visit to a place that I’d heard fleetingly mentioned over the past ten years. Photographers I know have attended workshops there, and during its heyday, it was a haven for poets, artists, and musicians looking for a rural retreat. William Carlos Williams, Charles Olson, Minor White, and Robert Creeley had all visited at one time or another; Williams seems to have been the resident poet. Somewhat like Sonnenberg Gardens further east, Linwood has a time capsule aura, as though it might crumble and fade into the rural landscape at any time. That, even more than the peonies, is what I find so fascinating.

Gauguin, a Daphnis hybrid

This weekend will be the last peony weekend, but Open Days are scheduled throughout the summer. It’s well worth a trip. Learn more here.

Ezra pound, a Gratwick introduction

High on Chanticleer Garden

This is one of dozens of to-die-for spots I found at Pennsylvania's Chanticleer Garden this week.  This lush "pleasure garden" proves, as all my favorite gardens do, that shrubs make the garden. Those mid-range mounds of chartreuse?  Spireas.  Awesome with purples.   The garden's one-of-a-kind hardscape also helps. 

More coming soon from my trip to Chanticleer, the Scott Arboretum and the Morris Arboretum.  In a word?  OMIGOD.

Bloom Day, CA

Sorry folks -- I'm reduced to cameraphone photos today.

Amy

Bloom Day, California

Share Your Garden Memories, Win Five Great Books

Wow.  Quite a contest.  Post something about your gardening memories over at Beekman 1820  and win five Harper Collins titles--Kingsolver,Dillard, Michael Perry--good stuff. Go check it out.

Is It Really About Beauty?

Ornamental gardeners like to distinguish themselves from vegetable gardeners as the rarefied live-for-beauty people.

But is beauty what ornamental gardens are really about?  Because to my mind, beauty requires a certain restraint. 

And restraint is something foreign to amateur gardeners, who love to buy plants and love to dig up the picture just when it's looking really good in order to experiment with something new.  (Of course, the pros have to be more directly engaged with questions of truth and beauty in order to draw in new clients, unless of course, their landscape practice happens to be in New Jersey, where truth and beauty are entirely unnecessary.)

The most beautiful yards in my town, for example, are not gardened.  They are green and make clever use of just a handful of things--a hedge, a groundcover, a flowering tree or two.  It's all very restful. 

Whereas the gardeners' yards are all an ungodly riot.  

I became aware that my own yard is a riot this week when my husband looked around at the general excess of blooms--hundreds of tulips including a steroidal yellow called 'Big Smile' -- as well as those superb tulip drinking buddies the cushion spurges, white bleeding hearts, self-seeded violets, and brunneras --and said thoughtfully, "This place is starting to remind me of the crazy Portuguese lady's place in the neighborhood I grew up in."

I actually had a gander at the crazy Portuguese lady's yard over 20 years ago, on my first trip to California to meet my husband's family.  I don't know why he walked me over there.  I hadn't yet picked up a shovel, but maybe he just had a foreboding about his own fate.  The place surrounded a little yellow and white Craftsman house.  It was overgrown, mysterious, full of birdsong, completely unlike the Betty Crocker Zen yards around it, surrounding their Betty Crocker Modernist ranches--all seasonless and impervious to wind and weather.  The Portuguese lady's yard, on the other hand, was madly productive, full of flowers and fruits. 

Of course, it's possible that a focus on productivity even in an ornamental garden merely suggests that the gardener is in the wrong line, and instead of constantly planting things with blooms as big as cabbages, should be growing cabbages.

Na. I know plenty of pure ornamentalists who are maximalists.  Crazy flowers are fun.

My feeling is that beauty is a side product of gardening, but not the ultimate goal, which is vigorous exercise and pagan nature worship.  If it's all a little tacky--well, to some people, joy itself looks a little tacky.

Minimalism is great in art and music,

but not tulips.