Sunday Opinion: Why Do You Do It?

I read Rochelle Greayer’s blog, Studio G, an ambitious compendium and commentary on all things garden and landscape design related, almost every day.  One day she is seriously reflecting on how she interprets the body of information regarding the importance of organic food.  The next I am seeing before and after photographs by a neighborhood gardener that does all their own work.  This might be followed by information on new product design, a historically significant garden, or plants of interest.  Speaking of interest, her interests have astonishing range.  She does an incredible job of sorting, editing, distilling and reviewing.  She writes beautifully.  You know this, I am sure.  But I would go on to say that she writes with a serious intent  She is a garden journalist in the best sense of the word, but I so like that she crosses that  over with impunity, and makes clear her own point of view, her questions and concerns.  I recommend reading her.  I promise you will be dazzled.    www.studiogblog.com.

One of her features that I especially like is her monthly “blogs I like”.   I have to say that when I made her list early last year, I was embarassed, but more than pleased.  But more important than that, I like checking out what she is reading now.  I so value how she shares.  More often than not, her blog is a sturdy bridge to places I really need to visit.  In February, a link to a blog she likes and reads every day- www.thinkingardens.co.uk.  I spent a lot of time reading there over the past few days.

In plain view when this website comes up- an addendum.  “for people who want more from gardening than a garden.”  I instantly gravitated to this community to which I believe I belong.  I read lots of their essays-many of which provoked me, and none of which disappointed.  No doubt,  I want more from gardening than a garden.  

Why do I garden?  First up, I love having my hands in the dirt.  The dirt of my subdivision childhood- understand that I grew up in a neighborhood reclaimed from vast tracts of dirt.  The dirt I am dealt, the dirt that is close by all the time, the dirt of my childhood-the dirt I make via composting-bring on the dirt.  Once I was old enough to make the shocking discovery that dirt enabled life-this made me a gardener.

 This is by way of saying that I no doubt I want more from gardening than a garden.  I want a way of life.  I want membership in any gardening group for whom the beauty of nature is a way of life.  I want exchange. I want community.  I want provocation.  I want a considerable, serious, and continuing discussion of aesthetics.  Many thanks for helping to provide this, Rochelle.  Thanks to you,  I have a new place to read essays about all of this, and more.

Studio G- you are reading this, are you not?

Sunday Opinion: Plants In The Air

I have never been a fan of plants in the air.  By this I mean hanging baskets of plants.  God knows plenty of people like them- the glass airspace of all of my local nurseries are awash in them come spring.  Some baskets go home and get transplanted into a container, or in the ground.  Fine.  But not all get a thoughful or beautiful placement.  In my own neighborhood, I see the occasional 10″ diameter hanging basket plopped without further ado into 8″ diameter pots.  Picture this-a pot, with a glaringly white plastic hat and purple petunias on top.  Some of the baskets are not set level-picture a white plastic hat, askew, atop a container. Some white plastic baskets are hung from their hangers so close to a porch overhang I cannot imagine how they will get light, much less be watered.  In my opinion, none of these options are a good look.

I understand the economics of a 10″ white plastic basket.  They do not occupy precious greenhouse floor space.   Small trailing plants have the luxury to grow vigorously in a generous airborne soil space-a bigger plant fetches a better price.  People anxious to get a leg up on a short northern season will pay more for a plant with a growing history; pregrown, as it were. Greenhouse growers, they like the plastic, and the white color-as well they should.  Plastic is lightweight, and readily handled.  By this I mean filled with soil, planted, and hung up.  Any growing operation involves lots of steps, lots of care, lots of time and lots of hands.  As efficiently as a growing operation can be handled matters much to the bottom line.  My line of work has put me in contact with countless growers and nurseries.  It matters little whether you are growing 1 gallon perennials, 5 gallon shrubs, hanging baskets of annuals, vegetables or trees-growing professionally is a staggeringly labor intensive and risky vocation.  What if the weather does not cooperate?  What if the drought kills your rhododendron seedlings?  What if the buying public passes by every basket of million bells you have grown?  That white plastic hanging basket of annuals in the spring greenhouse airspace is engineered to provide a grower with optimum conditions to grow a large crop. White plastic reflects light.  This means any given basket will need water on a manageable schedule.  The basket can be easily gotten down for a customer.  The plants get the best light available.  Every greenhouse grower deals with all of the issues of any restaurant chef, times 10.  A chef gets to pitch what is out of date.  A grower furthermore spends lots of time dealing with aging material.  I only regret the baskets do not come with an explanatory note.  The container in which this plant has been grown was selected in the interest of efficient growing only.

  The hundred of white plastic planted bowls that we know as hanging baskets are held aloft via an adaptation of the coathanger; this utilitarian part pains me.  A coathanger belongs in a closet, does it not?  This is just the beginning of my discontent.  Plants root in the earth, and the earth is at grade-right?  Containers have a point of connection to the ground plane. Hanging baskets-what is the good idea behind plants in the air?  I have a tough time answering this question reasonably-but that is based on many years of instinctive prejudice against them.  Plants in airborn dirt-something seems wrong about this to me. 

Any instinctive prejudice-I have time in late February to reflect.  The snow is still piled miles high in Michigan; I have time to review my assumptions about gardening. Those weather people are predicting our two days of thaw will be followed by 2 inches of snow.  This prediction makes me want to weep.  It is almost the 1st of March-can the winter not make a move to let go?   In a calmer moment, I would suggest there are those activities that can make the winter prison time go faster.  In a perfect world, every gardener would examine their prejudices, and move off of them.  In the interest of bringing a little fresh thought to some of my own cold and stale toast, and in the interest of amusing myself, I am rethinking my ideas about hanging baskets.  Why so, this February 26th?

My grower has called my hand.  He is planting his hanging baskets for spring this week.  He has invited me to come over, and get my hands dirty.  He has made it clear.  “So Deborah, if the hanging baskets available in my greenhouse in the spring are not to your taste, what would you plant?  What is your idea?  If you had to have some hanging baskets in your garden this year, what would be planted in them?  Consider this a formal invitation.”  It would be very unsporting of me to refuse, would it not?   

This coming Friday I will be designing and planting hanging baskets.  I am rather looking forward to it.

Sunday Opinion: Imported From Detroit

I am a fan of my city; I have lived here all my life, and I still like it. I was born near the Jefferson plant in 1950.  I subsequently lived in Burns Park in Indian Village in Detroit until I was 6.  Though my family moved me to East Detroit in 1956, I routinely rode my bike downtown for a chocolate soda at Hudson’s, and took a tour around Belle Isle on my way home.  It is incredible to think that my parents never worried one bit about a 10 year old biking with friends miles away from home. But we did not think of Detroit as miles away then-it was our city. Detroit was and still is my city; I write this with pride. You may think of a car as a mechanism that allows you to get from one place to another, but my idea of the cars that have been expertly designed and engineered and efficiently produced- starting with Henry Ford-a product of infinite complexity that came on to move people and goods efficiently, reliably, and beautifully. The automobile- a game changer, ranking right up there with the light bulb, modern vaccines, and air travel.  My city, my gritty city, was instrumental in getting this country, and many other countries, on the road. That same city is also home to many thousands of talented, energetic and imaginative people doing all sorts of things-the same kinds of people that live in your city.

 Better than 15 years ago, a landscape client greatly respected in the product branding business (she named the Saturn) was kind enough to take me through a process by which I was able to give a name to the shop.  Giving a name to something which does not yet exist-not so easy.  But she organized the process.  Make a list of all the words that in your mind describes what you want this shop to be.  My list was long.  Of course garden was the first on that list.  It’s what we do.  Eventually the word “works” appeared on the list.  As in the works, this works for me, a work in progress, work the problems out, working well, not working; work is an apt synonym for gardening, is it not?  The word work is a favorite.  Also on my list, Detroit.  I had by that time done landscape and events outside of Michigan.  Though I live some 30 miles north of downtown Detroit, Detroit is where I live.  My geography has plenty to do with my attitudes and practices as a gardener. 

Anyone who knows me knows that I believe all great work, all great art, all great landscape is local.  I do not for one second believe that all the most creative people people in the world live in Milan, Los Angeles, Paris, or New York City.  What captures the attention of the media is a very small version of what is out there to see.  Incredibly talented and capable people live all over this globe-and lots of them in my town.  Some live in the Netherlands, or England, or Sweden, or Australia, Belgium, Canada or Wisconsin. In every city, town and township in every country there are people doing work that is breathtaking.  Really beautiful.  The internet has made it possible to appreciate this in a way that staggers the imagination.  I learned about the hellebores of Judith Knott Tyler from the internet; I have since bought her plants, and her books.  Small business people and artists lived and worked in remote places long before there was an efficient way to find out about them. 

The three words I chose that would become the name of the shop needed an arrangement. It seemed only natural that the word Detroit would come first.  The climate and community in which I work influences everything I do.  I practice horticulture in the midwest.  This means I design American gardens from a midwesterner’s point of view.  I would not want this any other way.  I believe authenticity of place is a critically important factor in landscape design.  There are lots of landscapes, both historic and contemporary that I admire from other places.  But what I have is this place.  And I have the conviction that what can be designed and grown in this place is equally as beautiful as what might be designed somewhere else.  There may be certain things about Michigan gardens that have no equal or parallel anywhere else.  This belief keeps me warm and working.

Why am I talking about Detroit?  The ad for the Chrysler 200M which aired this past Sunday, of course.  Chrysler bought 2 minutes of time during the Superbowl to talk about the genius of this place.  The genius of the people who work and live here.  I admire the gritty talk, the gritty music and photography.  All of that was perfectly authentic as to place.  But most of all I admire the clear conviction from start to finish that Detroit has produced something fabulously engineered, paintakingly built and beautifully sculptural- that cannot be found anywhere else. It is a very impassioned statement about taking ownership of what had melted down, reinventing with what was left standing, and forging something stronger and better. The ad closes with a simple but very powerful evocation of the idea of genius loci-the pervading spirit and atmosphere of place- Imported From Detroit.  Detroit has problems-terrible problems that all but defy solving.  But we have many people here with the guts, foresight, talent and imagination to take on the work of creating a local landscape where people can live and thrive.  The two minutes worth that Chrysler managed to bring to the discussion-have you seen it?

Sunday Opinion: So Fun To Feel Free

I do not mind the 1.2 mile trip from my house to work.  I can stand just about  anything for 1.2 miles.  Right now, my neighborhood streets are a series of frozen tire tracks-for 5 blocks my ride to work is slippery slick and very bumpy.  Those neighbors with their cars parked on the street-they are tempting fate.  I can handle the rain, the sleet, the ice, the snowstorms-just about anything, for 1.2 miles.  You may gather from this that I am not a happy traveller; you are so right. Any trip over 1.2 miles is an ordeal. I dislike planes, airports, buses, taxis, metro cars, rest stops, gas station restrooms, giant trucks bearing down on me-traffic jams.  I really prefer to walk.  One hour into a road trip I am ready to ditch that road.  I can barely tolerate a sunny dry day driving on an interstate, much less a dark, rainy, snowy, icy or windy day. 

Travelling this past week was so much different than 40 years ago.  The weather reports then were completely unreliable.  The roads were poorly marked.  A winter storm meant treacherous conditions for days. Salted roads-maybe.  If you were lucky. My first car-a Dodge Aspen circa 1971- was in no way equipped to handle winter weather challenged roads, but nonetheless I drove long distances in the winter.  I still remember harrowing trips from North Carolina to Detroit for Christmas.  No matter what route I took, I would arrive with every muscle aching, and shaken. I disliked the Christmas holiday, as it meant I would have to endure an arduous trip home.  Be advised, I took trips to the upper peninsula of Michigan before 1-75, and the Mackinac Bridge were built.  OK, I did not cross America in a covered wagon, but I grew up thinking travel was barely the next best thing after having a root canal.  My trips were an experience at the mercy of nature I have never really forgotten. 

My experience with sharing the road with truckers has not much changed in 40 years.  I realize they see to delivering no end of goods all over this country. They transport fruit and vegetables, vehicles, livestock, sweaters and shoes, tools-Rob did go on about this the minute I got grumpy about it on our way north.  They rule the interstates.  Back then, as now, they drive fast and fearlessly.  Why shouldn’t they?  They have gobs of tires in contact with the road, and they are eminently weighty.  No weather daunts them. They gun it, at every and any opportunity.  They drench my car with whatever weather they plow through.  They slow to a crawl on mountain roads going up, and bear down like a freight train on mountain roads going down.  Unnerving, this.  My only near death experience coming back from Atlanta-a truck passing me on a curve on an icy and snowy I-75 in Cincinnati drifted over into my lane.  The back of his truck came inches from slamming into me. I could see his blue back end looming close in my preipheral vision. I had no where to go, as I was driving under an overpass. I probably could have breaked hard-but my driver’s instinct tells me never to brake hard on ice. Physics and dumb luck prevented a collision.  Though Rob is unlikely to get overwrought under any circumstances, he noticed.  It was 15 miles before my heart rate slid back to normal.

In retrospect, I could have saved myself some trouble.  My Chevy Suburban is a pretty amazing vehicle.  As I intimated yesterday, it is heavy.  4 wheel drive and stabilo-track keeps those wheels on the ground in bad weather.  My knowledge of trucks-how they are designed, and how they work, is just about nothing.  I know stop, go, turn, back up and park.  But this does not even begin to tell the story.  I took the Chevy bus to my dealer for a checkup before the trip.  Most of the work they did had to do with making sure all the computer and electrical systems were working.  Driving to work the morning of the trip-I get a warning light.  The check engine light.  Don’t ask me what this means; I just waited 3 hours, and paid the bill.  Subsequently, Stan told me that my 2004 Suburban was in perfect running order, and would get me anywhere I wanted to go-safely.  This helped to make me feel better, confident. Little did I know.  Though I was driving through a snow/ice weather mix, my slowest speed was 50-55mph through Cincinnati.  I made most of the trip at close to the speed limit. Like a trowel or a spade or drafting tools and a camera, or a front end loader, my Chevy is a tool that enables me to work.  Let me go on-a 2004 Chevy Suburban is a sophisticated tool.   

All of this said, this travelling away from home was a relatively relaxing one.  It was clear I was not sliding around one bit-I finally let the Chevy do what it was designed to do.  I will confess I did strategize somewhat about the truck gluts-it gave me something to do, other than steer.  Rob is a Garmin enthusiast-it made his England trip in September so easy.  I was impressed how we were routed around a “severe traffic problem” and sent on our way in Cincinnati on the south leg of the trip.  My gardening life is so very different than it was years ago.  No small part of that has to do with the new tools I have at my disposal.  Both Helen at Toronto Gardens and Margaret at A Way to Garden were talking recently about amaryllis I am not familiar with.  Google images-wow.  My window on the gardening world is a big one, should I choose to look out.  All of a sudden, I am enchanted by amaryllis in a new way.   

Though I do not get out so much, this week out was a very good one.  I thoroughly enjoyed where I went, and what I saw.  You’ll see-come the 2011 spring.  And after that, the 2011 holiday and winter.  This trip was the first I have made in a good many years that involved stormy weather.  Though I had big worries in advance, generated from the past, my travel was remarkably easy.  Not at all like it once was.  So fun- to feel free from worry.  Worry takes a lot of time away from more interesting things.  Thank you, General Motors.  My Suburban has 75,000 miles on it.  We are probably much the same age.  The both of us-glued to the road.