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Stuck

Stuck inside, that is.  The inside story-we are repainting parts of Detroit Garden Works for the spring. Every square inch is torn up, everything is stacked up, on hold, or in storage.  Then what we have has to be introduced to what is on the way for spring. The visit to the Atlanta Mart gave rise to plenty of ideas about display spaces.  I walked through my shop rooms this past week, and tried to imagine what new spaces might look like.  Not one idea surfaces.  A bad cold didn’t help things.  The January weather adds to the inertia that best describes winter; there is a sopping wet and partially frozen dingy grey wool blanket everywhere I look.  Every square foot of our 10,000 square feet will be home to our the spring gardening congress.  I know I need to be ready, but there needs to be a plan first.  All the possibilities and sheer the size of this place means I have less time that I think to get it thought out.  It is just hard to shake off that longing for another time and another place-like my garden in the spring or summer or fall- and get going.  This makes for a design headache. 

We have 2 containers coming from the Europe, the first of which is scheduled to make Montreal February 4.  What happens next is anyone’s guess. Should that part of Canada see a snow storm the likes of which invaded New York City a few days ago, the railway will be shut down, or keep traffic moving at a crawl.  A 2 day trip from Montreal might take 10 days.  We have a customs broker who attends to the process of our container being cleared for entrance into the US.  That process is a good deal more stringent and time consuming today than 10 years ago.  I have no earthly idea what day that semi will pull in with that container on board.  It could be days-it could be more time than I bargained for.

 

If you are a gardener, you get design headaches too, particular to the winter months.  The process of deciding what trees, shrubs, perennials, groundcovers, annuals, tropicals, vegetables, herbs you are crazy for-easy.  What we all  have a mind to grow next season-easy. Every tomato under the sun looks good right about now.  What we plan to change, renovate, turn around and rethink-easy.  Putting all of this together in a coherent scheme-a design headache. Beautiful meadows-there are many that are nature driven and naturally maintained.  They tend to be really big spaces-much bigger than my yard.  When nature has an idea, she expresses it on a really big scale.    A mini meadow requires such thoughtful design-there’s simply no room for mucking about with obviously unresolved areas.  Full scheme ahead.

On my small property, in my small business, I do not have unlimited space and time.  I need to pick and choose which statements I wish to make, and then decide how to make them.  This means my gardening broadcasts need a lot of distillation, and fast.  The Mart in Atlanta-so many things in one place.  Making sense of it all-big work that is still going on.  One finite space, one small voice-looking to organize and energize a collection.  Seed catalogues, tools, nursery stock availability lists, annuals, pots and benches for spring-there is plenty to to see, read and absorb.  There is also the matter of the stack of site plans on my drafting table-projects which need design time before spring. 

  

   Customers straggle to my door-we are happy to let the garden-starved in, but we do not provide that much comfort. The shop is just about 55 degrees. The most lively thing going on is the dogs barking.  The January doldrums have set in.  The shop is in so many fragments, waiting for an organizing metaphor.  In spite of my headache,  I like these days when every room is taken down to its bare bones, and the thought of putting it all back together scares me.  It means I have work to do that I like.

  Sorry to say this, but we northern gardeners have the entire month of February, and perhaps into March to go before there is any hint of spring.  Not so good for you-not so great for me either.  I so miss my garden.  But for the shop, the deconstruction is good.  It means our spring will be a fresh.     If there ever was a time for a big idea, this is it.  I feel sure that if I look long enough, I’ll spot one.

Madame Nature, I’ll be ready when you are.

Posted on: January 29, 2011 Leave a Comment
Filed Under: Holiday, Detroit Garden Works, Landscape Design Tagged With: ,

Unexpected Company

Some winter weather-not so much worth talking about.  Michigan can be grey and unchanged, day after day, week after week.  This winter we are seeing plenty of activity.  Not the snow sort that has the east coast barely operating in first gear, or the unexpected snow, ice and cold that has the south in its grip-but active winter weather nonetheless.  I have lost count how many snow storms we have had, but yesterday’s was significant.  Significantly beautiful.  Driving by the front walk last night, I could see the prints from an unexpected visitor.  

I could see those prints, as I have lights in the landscape.  Path lights are a must; there are stairs to climb to my front door.  An older friend fell into the boxwood a few years ago, taking her husband with her.  Though I was horrified, they laid over the boxwood, laughing.  Needless to say, I saw to getting that walkway lit.  Tonight,here are big spaces between these two tiny snowprints-who came calling?

My holiday lighting-I can not bear to turn it off. By the time I get home now, it is dark.  I like seeing the lights on inside, and the lights on outside.  The night lighted is a comfort to me.  This snowfall was particularly beautiful; I came up the back stairs with the idea to take some pictures.  I persuaded Buck to haul my tripod to the car, and drive me around the block to the front door.  It took a little time to explain that I did not want to ruin my snow with my bootprints, and fix him a vodka on the rocks. He agreed to go along. This is my idea of a night out, camera and tripod in tow, I photographed the footprints of my unexpected company. 

Once I was done outside, Buck obligingly drove me home. Around the corner to the driveway, that is.  You would think I had documented an event of great importance. He rolled his eyes.  Apparently the garden has lots of visitors; only in the winter are there prints.  Buck tells me the yard is a way station for all sorts of creatures.  One neighborhood cat traverses the top of our fence almost every day. I ventured out the front door,careful to keep the legs of the tripod out of view.  Unmistakeable, signs of a visitor meandering up the walk.    

I was easily able to track the prints in the snow, courtesy of the landscape lighting. Make no mistake, my outdoor lighting would win no awards.  I know not so much about it, and the catalogues of fixtures exhaust me.  I refer my clients to a lighting designer and contractor whose work I like. Kevin came and lit my front walk, and my driveway at my request. On my mind last night was an idea to get much more involved in lighting-especially for winter.   My path lights need something in the way of a riser; the boxwood have grown.  Nonetheless, the now too short fixture made for a pool of bright light that dramatically changed the night view of my garden in winter.


The path lights in the background of this picture illuminate the first flight of steps up to my front door with an intense and focused light. The city street light illuminates the dark softly; this light is high off the ground.  My four footed visitor had little problem coming up the stairs. This picture has me thinking about how complicated a lighting scheme can be-in the absence of the sun.

The lighting in this container has never looked better than it did last night.  This snowfall-incredibly beautiful.  The snow collecting on the hydrangeas and boxwood-I would have never seen this, but for the lights in the landscape. 


I do not so much love the winter.  But there are those times that what I see makes me grateful I have it.  I have a little yard in a city.  No views to an ocean.  No mountains. No property to speak of. But last night, courtesy of the light, it was truly enchanting.

Posted on: January 12, 2011 4 Comments
Filed Under: Holiday, The Natural World, Landscape Design

In Case You Missed It

My heart goes out to all of those people on the east coast who are up their proverbial armpits in snow.  I have never experienced 20 plus inches of snow at one time; this I cannot imagine.  I remember a storm in the late seventies while I was living in Ann Arbor.  I was young, unprepared, and had few options except to go home.  It took a week for me to be able to get there.  I still remember the 6 inch thick ice patches on I-94; the trip home was very, very slow, and very bumpy.  Not so many years ago we got a foot of snow in one fell swoop.  I stayed at the shop, ordered in pizza, and worked on a project during the five days it took for the neighborhood to get shovelled out.      

The snow that just buried New York and New Jersey goes far beyond imposing an enforced time out on the people who live there. They have serious trouble out there.   I am only lucky that weather that threatens lives comes my way only once in a blue moon.  Most of the time, should I be forced to change my schedule to accommodate the weather, I have enjoyed the show.  The winter holiday of 2005 was one of my favorites.  This is not to say that I did not work hard on my end.  The giant grapevine spheres and hickory bark strips Rob brought back from Europe needed a home.  He has this idea that I will figure out what to do with materials he likes.  I can be challenged by this, but I am not shy about taking on trouble.  Four thick 10 foot long bamboo poles buried in the concrete pots captured those spheres.  I cannot remember now how we managed it, but each grapevine sphere had a starlight embedded within. The hickory bark strips were stiff and ornery-they had to be wired on with concrete wire. They may look graceful, but the installation was anything but.  A finishing and thick nest of white pine at the bottom; we had a winter holiday going on.   

Rob had lit all the trunks of the lindens with garland lights. Light strings that have the bulbs spaced close-we like these.  More light, less wire-this makes for a very good winter look.  He always hangs something in the trees.  Who doesn’t have a tree in their yard that could use a winter outfit?  Simple flat gold stars, and red plastic sputnik ornaments-jazzy. 

We looked good at night-which means we looked good at 4:30 in the afternoon.  All the winter blue sky and snow and black trunks were just asking for a little electricity.  Among other things, Rob is incredibly good at designing with light and dark.  2005 was no exception.   

Upon reflection, I think these three dimensional lighted north stars had plastic arms that could be unscrewed. Once the light knob was inside the sphere, we could reattach the arms.  Any material that I can break down is a material that gets my attention.  I may only need half of it, or a wisp of it.  When in doubt about any material, cut it up, and put it back together in your own way. 

The front of the shop was subtly lit; the lights on either side of the front door did the lion’s share of the work.  The warm yellow of the spotlights on the pots-the resulting blue and yellow-we were pleased. 

 I was not much prepared for what nature thought to deliver- a substantial snowstorm.  The snow fall was fast and steady.  I went to bed in one world, and woke up in another, ala JB Priestly.  I think we had 10 inches in all of a wet snow that stuck fast to every surface it touched.

What I thought was a fine holiday display was transformed overnight in a way that took my breath away.  I had no hand in this whatsoever.  I was nonetheless thrilled it came my way, for me to see.   

My shop has never looked like it did this day-not before.  Not since. Very few photographs do justice to an experience, but this is the best record I have for that night.  Moments like this account entirely for my belief that nature rules my roost.  


Don’t be fooled by this picture-it took hours to dig out the front door to the shop. This branchy linden roof of snow-the finest it has ever been my privilege to witness.  My advice?  Be convinced by what you witness.  Once you have done that,  enjoy.

Posted on: December 29, 2010 Leave a Comment
Filed Under: The Natural World, Holiday, Detroit Garden Works Tagged With: , ,

Home For The Holidays

After one’s friends and family, is there anything better in this world than home for the holidays?  I have friends and clients that regularly travel over the holidays. Better them than me;  I so like being home.  In my twenties I lived in North Carolina-the thought of that trip home to Michigan for Christmas still raises the hair on the back of my neck.  One year, I decided to come home by way of Washington DC-the trip across country to the midwest-a nightmare.  Glare iced over freeways meant sliding down the hills in the close company of giant trucks-no one was driving. We were all sweating and concentrating on staying alive.  Thank heavens Buck and I host our own Christmas, right at home.

Should it sound boring to you that I like being home, consider this.  I am home a small percentage of the day.  I leave at dawn, or in the dark; I come home at dusk, or in the dark.  I lived in my house for four years before I met my neighbors.  The prospect of being home during the day over a holiday-delightful. Just this morning I finally finished getting it ready for our celebration.

One Christmas Eve some years ago Buck and I decided to open one package; one thing led to another.  We now celebrate our Christmas on Christmas Eve.  On the menu for this evening-mac and cheese.  Our holiday is just about the two of us-so no need for a fancy dinner.  Chardonnay, mac and cheese, the exchange of gifts.  I so look forward to this.  Christmas morning we talk little, eat coffee cake made by Steve’s daughter Violet; we relax. Christmas night, Buck’s son will come for dinner-he is travelling here today from Alabama.  Buck will be cooking a good part of the day-which is what he likes.  I will be reading a good part of the day-what a luxury.  He cooks; I set the table, and head the cleanup detail. This I call a peaceable holiday.

The prospect of a Christmas tree did not much interest me this year. My so fabulous collection of grapevine deer interested me plenty.  I took a standing grapevine buck home for the holidays. A buck in the living room-surprising.  My Buck was amused and pleased that a traditional Christmas tree that last year was a thicket of magnolia branches in an urn had been replaced by a sculpture with his name. 

Some left over mixed cedar roping went on the mantel; the rest I pooled on the floor.  It took all of 5 minutes to evenly top the roping with 3 strands of  white lights. Preserving the natural curl of the cord as it comes out of the box makes them less noticeable than straight wire.  The light covers, two few cattail balls and a snowball later, I have a spot for the buck to stand.  

A necklace of lights may not be the most glamorous accessory, but it helps light the Buck, and a dark corner of the room.

Once I switch on those chartreuse mini lights and snow lights, the space has a much more festive look.

Any holiday expression that brings the idea of peaceable kingdom to the surface gets my interest.  I like the bugs.  I like the birds.  I like the raccoons and possums with whom I share my garden.  The cat I saw this afternoon jumping down into the fountain-I said hello.  The corgis-don’t get me started on them. The Italian paper mache goats Rob bought-I plan to decorate for the holidays around them for  a long time. 


The dining room sideboard is a small version of the peaceable kingdom. I did not need to do much more for a great holiday than come home.

Posted on: December 24, 2010 4 Comments
Filed Under: Holiday, The Natural World Tagged With: ,