Archives for January 2014

More On White: Milkweed

Monarch_Butterfly_Danaus_plexippus_on_Milkweed_Hybrid_2800pxThis photograph from Wikipedia speaks volumes to the importance of the milkweed.  Asclepias tuberosa is a favored nesting site for the Monarch butterfly.  At summers end, the wild plants we have growing at the shop will be covered with their larvae. The Monarch larvae feed on these leaves. The butterfly weed is a favored host in my area.  They will spin cocoons; the mature butterflies will emerge some four weeks, give or take.  Only once have I witnessed a mature butterfly emerging from its chrysalis-it happens that fast.

milkweeed-pods.jpgAsclepias has much to recommend.  The plants are long lived, utterly drought resistant, and carefree.  The flower heads of asclepias tuberosa are orange and gorgeous.  Asclepias incarnata has flower heads that are a quiet shade of dusky rose.  But my main interest in them is the seed pods.  The pods are large, ovate, and a compelling shade of bluish green.  In late summer, this green phase dominates the plants.

milkweed-pods.jpgOnce the seeds begin to ripen, the pods will split along their length.

milkweeds.jpgOur local fields and meadows are full of the remains of the milkweed pods come November.  They have an elegantly spare and ruggedly persistent shape.

asclepias-tuberosa.jpgBut the white fluff inside is what interests me the most.  Each butterfly weed seed is firmly affixed to its own white silky and fluffy airplane.  These white silky hairs catch the wind, and aid in the dispersal of the seed.

milkweed-seed-pod.jpgHow plants set seed is an event any gardener would appreciate.  How the milkweeds insure the survival of their seed is nothing short of miraculous.

milkweed-pod.jpgFrom Wikipedia: The milkweed filaments from the follicles are hollow and coated with wax, and have good insulation qualities.  As of 2007, milkweed is grown commercially as a hypoallergenic filling for pillows. This commercial use does not interest me as much as how the butterfly weed seeds itself.  A milkweed seed with its virtually weightless attendant white fluff is a little and subtle miracle I never tire of.  Every year, the marvel of it enchants me.

milkweed-pods ripening.jpgOnce those seeds emerge, that fluff is everywhere.  It will stick to your hands, your clothes, your shoes, your trowel, and your wheelbarrow.  An individual seed is large, and relatively speaking, heavy.  How this plant has evolved to insure that these big seeds get dispersed is but one of countless stories engineered by nature.  I have had occasion to design and install fairly complex landscapes, but this design and execution is beyond compare.

ripe-milkweed-seeds.jpgAny landscape designers best ally is what comes from the natural world.  All it takes is a lot of observation, and then some serious thought.  As my friend and colleague Susan Cohan says, art does not necessarily have to work.  No artwork needs a white silky airplane to be.  A work of art lives independent of time,conditions, and circumstance.  Good landscape design is a craft, in that every moment needs to assess the conditions, fire up,and fly.

milkweeds 004The milkweed seeds about to fly is a day in the gardening season I look forward to.  I would hope these plants would find a foothold in many places.  I like that the Monarch butterfly feeds and reproduces on a plant that has a plan to not only enable these beautiful creatures, but reproduce.

milkweeds 005Much of gardening is about the physical issues.  The dirt, the water, the drainage, the weather, the maintenance, the beginning, and the ending.  But there are those singular moments that float.

setting-free-the-milkweeds.jpgThere is a day every gardening season when I make the effort to launch the asclepias seeds. It feels good to think I am doing my part.

milkweed-seeds-airborne.jpgDo these seeds need me?  No.  Nature saw to this efficient dispersal long before I ever took up a trowel. But I do it anyway.  This white fluff I put in the air makes me feel good.

 

White In The Garden

white (5)My current garden is all about the snow, and not much else.  16 inches of snow has managed to turn everything in the landscape ground plane into a collection of wind whipped white blobs. On the roads, dirty white.  In the shade, blue white.  In the sun, blinding white.  It’s enough white to keep me blinking.  Unlike this once in a blue moon snow fest, white in the garden is a crisp and fresh color choice.  The white umbrellas in this picture-refreshingly white. I took this picture on a blisteringly hot and overcast July day.  The white umbrellas look as cool as can be.  I could imagine how they would reflect the heat once opened. White in the heat of the summer means respite, as white reflects heat.

white (1)A white house could be coolly contemporary.  A whitewashed shingle style house, with white trim, and white window boxes is a traditional architectural expression one might find in any city.  A white farm house, or Greek revival house is an architectural classic.  The White House-a national treasure.  White appeals to many, and looks great in widely divergent circumstances.  All white-stark, even chilly.  White washed-soft.  Paint color books seem to have more versions of white than any other color-funny, that.

July 23, 2013 (13)I have several clients who are enthusiastic about any  plant, as long as it blooms white.  And clients who favor white container plantings.  White gardens of necessity feature lots of green.  White foliage indicates an absence of chlorophyll.  Nearly all white foliaged plants have enough green to permit photosynthesis to some degree.  Any white garden is truly a green and white garden.  Green and white-a glorious color combination. Some white flowered perennial and annual cultivars are weak growers, but there are enough vigorous white plants to round out a planting palette.  In  the early spring, white hellebores, snowdrops, crocus, daffodils, and tulips.  The white leaved brunnera Jack Frost has a gorgeous white frosted leaf, and amazingly,  tolerates a lot of sun.  Magnolia Stellata, Magnolia Ivory Prince, Venus dogwood, white crab apple “Snowdrift”-there are so many choices of white flowering spring blooming trees.

white-petunias.jpgWhite petunias may be pedestrian, but they deliver.  This container gets barely 4 hours of indirect sun a day.  I would call that willing. Early season white perennials-I am picky.  Geranium lancastriense alba, anemone sylvestris, white variegated thyme, white siberian iris and white foxglove so well for me.  Plant choices are entirely based on what does well for me.  White poppies-so so.

white-geraniums.jpgWhite geraniums are beautiful.  That said, geraniums are heavy feeders.  They need to be deadheaded.  Their blooms are spoiled by rain-they need a daily once over.  What you have time for should guide your choices.

white-daisies.jpgThe wilding oxeye daisy, leucanthemum vulgare, is a favorite of mine.  I like its messy habit, and I don’t mind the seeding.  They are short and sweet.   Daisies are a flower form near and dear to my heart.  Shasta daisies, and boltonia are also white flowering daisies that are vigorous to boot. White cosmos are so beautiful-as is Queen Anne’s Lace.  I welcome gooseneck loosestrife in the garden, as long as it has a little shade and somewhat dry conditions to slow down its spread. Some white flowering plants ask for lots of room-sometimes more room than I have available at home.

white-hibiscus.jpgWhite flowering hardy hibiscus are very well behaved.  When they are happy, they form large clumps that bloom late in the year.  I have a special affection for late blooming white flowers.  My spring season is so busy at work, I barely have time to enjoy my garden at home. My Limelight hydrangeas might be my favorite late blooming white flowered plant.  I have 2 blocks of plants that are 12 years old.  They never fail to enchant. Late summer and fall perennials – including the hibiscus, white phlox,platycodon, and white Japanese anemone – these are crown growing perennials that are well suited for my garden.  I have a small urban property.  I limit my spreading white flowering plants to those plants that cover the ground.   Sweet woodriff and sagina can spread wherever they want.  Campanula carpatica alba is beautiful, but not long lived for me.  White peonies-breathtaking in the late May garden.

Sally-Holmes-roses.jpgI consider the rose Sally Holmes to be a white rose, though the buds are a warm peach.  These white flowers provide welcome relief to all of my pink roses.  I am partial to single white flowers.  The most magnificent of all the white single flowers-a mature sweet autumn clematis vine in full bloom.

white-Japanese-anemone.jpgPlanted between my roses, the white Japanese anemone, Honorine Jobert.  It may be my favorite flower.  Some years are better blooming than others, but it is entirely hardy.  Along with the asparagus and boltonia, they represent in spite of the roses.

Venus-dogwoods-blooming.jpgThough I doubt I would ever personally subscribe to an all white garden, I like what white flowers do for a garden.  They read from a distance. They are especially beautiful at dusk.  They shrug off a wearying heat.  White makes every other color so much more vibrant.  Cool, crisp, and fresh-that would be white.

 

White Christmas

1
Christmas was two weeks ago, but just today I got the pictures from a special Christmas dinner.  Very close friends serve a Christmas dinner to friends that is as much a visual as a culinary happening.  I am always interested to see how they design their holiday fete.  Given that almost everything in my world is one shade of white or another right now, their white Christmas seems entirely appropriate  to our current state of affairs.
3
White in lots of different forms block out the centerpiece that runs the entire length of the table.

4The silver heart-I have one from them that matches this.

5

7

8

9

13

14Needless to say, they are both as passionate for their garden as they are for great design.

15

16

17

22

20

21Their vision of the Christmas holiday-extraordinary.

At A Glance: 16 Inches

January-6-2014.jpgThe biggest snowstorm that I recall was in December of 1974.  I was 24, and living in Ann Arbor.  Some 20 inches fell December 1 and 2. Just like any other 24 year old, I was determined that no weather event would put a crimp in my plans.  I still remember that drive on I-94 towards home that took 7 hours instead of an hour. Once I got home, I stayed put for a week.  The 16 inches we have on the ground now is not nearly so daunting, nor am I so foolish.  Nature is nothing to fool with.  That said, I appreciate how unusual and beautiful this snowfall is.

snow-day.jpgThough my Suburban has 100,000 miles on it, it navigated the snow clogged streets in my neighborhood without a problem. I drove around lots of other people in less fortunate circumstances.

snow-pile.jpgThe shop has plenty of snow piles 6 feet tall and better.

snow-day.jpgsnow day

green-velvet-boxwood.jpgboxwood hatted with snow

deep-snow.jpgsnow piled high

January-garden.jpgEnglish cast iron fountain

winter-window.jpga snowy window to the world

snow-covered.jpgsnow

winter-garden.jpga Michigan winter-we are having a doozy.