Annual flowers on a terrace do a lot to warm up all the hard surfaces. I pay particular attention to the overall plant height and composition of those pots, as they are usually viewed up close, and while sitting.
I may want a particularly beautiful pot elevated on a stand or pedestal, so as to feature it. I may plant tall pots in strategic areas to give intimacy to a dining area, or perhaps screen a poor view. At this moment, I am able to see my neighbor’s discarded Christmas tree quite clearly from my deck. Urban living-it has its challenges.
Small terraces benefit from a cohesive plan. Pots may be organized around a dominant color, or texture, or style.
They may be organized around a collection of containers.
Pots of flowers with every conceivable color, every texture, and in every size are the hallmark of a person whose first and last love is plants, and more plants. Though I appreciate excitement like this, I try to edit. After all, with annuals there are second chances, so I try not to throw myself at every annual like I have 10 minutes to live.
This terrace is planted in a color palette my clients like. We keep the color constant, but plant different plants every year. They do a beautiful job of taking care of it all, no kidding. My second favorite day of the gardening year, after Mindy prunes my boxwood, is going back to those places I planted in May, in July, and know I handed off the baton to someone who values this as much as I do. Thanks a million, Hilary and Stewart.
All of us know what is spoken, or made from the heart, and what is theatre. How you landscape your home, how you decide what pots, and what placement, and what flowers, or maybe no flowers-I cannot explain this any better but than to say that what I might see at your home, should convince me it is you, speaking.
How a landscape convinces the viewer, how a landscape is a complete world, with its own rules and its own language, is a considerable part of its beauty. The genuine voice behind the landscape brings life to that landscape. The life that nature empowers is formidable. The life, and voice, of a person is equally formidable. How interesting-that relationship.
Though riddled with blooming weeds, or dead patches of this or that, or blurred with centuries of moss, they are powerfully evocative, and beautiful. The history of those genuine voices evokes memories in those of us who visit those gardens-our own memories.
An authentic voice-you have one, ready and waiting. Yours is better, you might say. Maybe I only have more practice.
On the subject of annuals, you need to decide first where you might want them. Let’s start with your front door. 
How you announce the entrance to your home is not only about the architecture. It’s your home, so your voice should be evident-clearly, confidently.
If you are exuberant, and welcoming of friends, neighbors, new people, and your daughter’s softball team, say so. 
If the mid-century modern, or contemporary design of your house makes certain demands that you hear, listen.
For better or for worse, I have planted my asparagus between my roses. I love how their ferny foliage masks how awkward and poor a rosebush looks, as a plant. Though I know perfectly well how to plant asparagus roots in a trench, other people tell that story much better than I, in particular, Margaret Roach.
But I have to say the asparagus word today, as its pushing aside the mulch and coming up like crazy-not on my schedule, but on the asparagus schedule. Home grown asparagus, raw, with the end of the day glass of wine, or barely cooked; even this peanut butter and butter girl appreciates the miracle of home grown asparagus.
