There are many species of anemone, but few are quite as lovely as anemone x hybrida “Honorine Jobert. An old garden hybrid discovered in a garden in Verdun France in 1858, it is a star of the fall perennial garden. A good many white flowers are touchy prima donnas that when they are not sulking, perform listlessly. But this anemone shines; it is vigorous, and easy to grow. Though many would say they are best in part shade, I grow mine in full sun on a south wall.
The dark green trifoliate foliage reminiscent of a grape leaf grows about 30 inches tall for me. I have yet to see bugs or disease bother the plants. My criteria for a five-star perennial? Hardiness, ease of culture, handsome in or out of flower, disease and pest resistant, and good for cutting; this plant readily fulfills all my criteria. The flowers are born on very tall wiry dark stems that move gracefully in a breeze.
All of the varieties and hybrids of Japanese anemones (which originated in China, by the way) make a great addition to the perennial border. The foliage is dense and low all summer, giving way to impossibly tall flower spikes. The buds dot the stems, and give way to simple 6 to 8 petalled flowers of breathtaking beauty.
The fringed halo of brilliant yellow stamens encircles the lime green stigma-ooh la la. I have only had trouble growing anemones where the soil drains poorly. As I believe that at least 80 per cent of winter hardiness hinges on good drainage, I plant bog plants in poorly drained areas, and work hard to improve the soil in my perennial gardens. These anemones have been here about nine years. I do have to thin them out in the spring, they are that vigorous.
Anemones are pokey, waking up in the spring. I have been known to run my hoe over their crowns, messing about in the garden too early. However, if I have a mind to move or divide, early spring is the best time. As the fibrous roots root deeply, they take poorly being dug in leaf. They seem not to mind much before they get growing. The best success I have had moving anywhere and anytime I get from the old pink species, Anemone Robustissima. This plant can readily hold its own in a meadow setting, and increase with the speed of a weed. The grey-pink flowers are small and softly colored, and profuse.
Were I restricted to a palette of less than ten perennials, this one would make my list. I am especially fond of late blooming perennials, and I am never happy about the gardening season coming to a close. I like asters and boltonia for the same reason.
Anemones last well as cut flowers. I like anemones, asparagus foliage, hydrangea and dahlias loosely arranged in a pitcher with whatever else I have going on in the garden. Having flowers to cut all summer long is one of the best reasons to have a perennial garden.
breathtaking-am I not right about that?
I am a fan of ornamental grasses-espcially the thin bladed wiry types that stand up well. This hedge of panicum virgatum is a welcome textural change from the dark stiffly formal yew hedge pictured above. When I add verbena bonariensis in front of this grass, something good starts cooking. It might very well be that orangy cast typical of a panic grass setting seed; the lavender verbena flowers seem more intensely lavender.
This simple and soft flower/grass hedge transforms a strictly formal evergreen garden for the summer months. Running the entire length of the landscape on both ends of the pool, its cloud-like appearance is on one hand in stark contrast to the modern chaises, and on the other, friendly in feeling and color to the loosely planted pots. 
Alyssum, lavender, silver posie thyme and tricolor sage make a pale ruff around a blue foliaged escheveria in this old stone box. The peach flowers of the echeveria-a bonus. Though delicate in appearance, these plants are drought and frost resistant. It interests me that something so fragile in appearance can withstand hit-and-miss care. Plant combinations such as this one are as foolproof as they come. Deadhead the lavender, and shear the alyssum once in a while-that’s all. Their only enemy-too much water. 
jjThere are other grey foliaged plants that are just as rugged. Though I am not so fond of the cut-leaf annual dusty miller, the paddle shaped leaves of cirrus dusty miller I find very appealing. The texture of simple shaped leaves, repeated in a smaller version with the silver helicrysum, is a great contrast to the needle foliaged icicle plant. The saucy and ferny foliaged plant in the center-a silver centaurea. Only the white nicotiana in this basket would fuss if you forgot to water.
The trailing plant front and center in this pot-showy oregano. Though they show poorly in pots early on, they fill out beautifully. The papery bracts are the palest green, lavender and peach. 
These plants are fairly diminuitive growers, so not so much grooming and shaping is necessary. Though it is late summer, no plant is overgrown, or threatening the well-being of a neighbor. This pot has shown well the better part of four months.
The benefactor tables surrounding the upper level Orpheus fountain glowed with the soft light from hundreds of votive candles set on their surfaces. The white tablecloths, umbrellas, garden flowers,the costumes of the dance troup and water reflected light in every direction. This kind of romance makes people feel good. 
The votive-lit lanterns skimming the surface of the Triton pools were repeated ingound, lighting the path from the entrance to the event, to its center. Designing and creating a walk to the event gave every guest the chance to shift their visual gears from their every day landscape to this specially made and momentary landscape. This transition helps to build anticipation for the event; when I have the idea I am going to enjoy something, I usually do.
I had not thought about the fact that the level of glow the one votive candle tucked into each sphere would vary greatly given the size of that sphere. That variation in light level proved especially beautiful – courtesy of a little physics via the umbrella we call nature.
As the evening wore on, the intensity of light emitted from the spheres, and the diminishing ability to gauge the water level gave the impression that all the spheres were floating on, or hovering over the water.
The reflection of the spheres in the still water made it seem like the spheres were multiplying. The water, the weather, and the light acting on those spheres made this event. How weather acts on a landscape is a critical factor in its success. I do my best work when I am paying attention to that.
Of course there would be music, dining and dancing. The bidding on the art at auction was brisk; people were enjoying themselves. It was such a pleasure seeing the Triton pools, and their sculptures at night.
The perfect moment that night? The coming of the frogs. Late in the evening, the spheres were host to many hundreds, maybe thousands, of frogs. They gravitated to the spheres, and took up residence. Everyone could hear them singing, before anyone spotted where they were perched. Some said the rhythm of that singing matched the rhythm of the music; I choose to believe that was so. 
A large tent would be a temporary home to a collection of art destined for auction that evening. Each work was donated by a previous graduate of the academy; this part of the event generated considerable interest and participation. Tables reserved for groups representing the major benefactors for this event were placed in the fountain garden.
The remnants of puddles you see on the ground in the above picture bring back memories for me; it rained fiercely the afternoon of the event. What I had thought I would have the entire day to accomplish would have to be done in less time. The threat of bad weather makes any garden party all the more exciting to plan and produce-in this case, it was more excitement than I really wanted. 
A cocktail reception would be held in a grassy area immediately adjacent to the showpiece of the Cranbrook landscape-the Triton pools. We fashioned simple tents for the hordoerves tables from double layers of white fabric attached to bamboo poles. Steel shoes for the poles were sunk in the ground at an outward angle, stretching the fabric tight and smooth. Nature had another idea in store; the intense downpour changed that flat profile to a graceful swoop. This unexpected contribution from the sky was a good one; I liked the swooping fabric against the curving path. We had painted a rambling path for guests arriving at the Lone Pine entrance to the garden to the reception area, with athletic paint. 
The big gesture? I had the idea to affix paper lanterns to slender steel rods anchored with bricks which would sit on the on the pool bottom. Advance measurements of the water depth enabled us to create the impression that the lanterns were floating on the surface of the water. What fun it was to get in these fountains; I never expected this opportunity to come along. A crew of four of us spent the better part of the afternoon wading in the water.
We set up hundred of lanterns of different diameters. Each steel rod had a platform at the top holding a votive candle. As we set the lanterns, we lit the votives rated to burn for ten hours, and hoped no more rain or wind would come our way. I was equally concerned that no water from the pools wick its way onto the paper. I was interested in creating a little moonlight magic, not a wet paper mess.
It seemed the rain had cleared off, and we did finish with an hour to spare before guests were due to arrive. The reception would begin at the very far end of the pools, and guests would wind their way uphill. 
I was happy to have finished my part as the catering staff was setting up. I was on my way home to get dressed; I did not want to miss how all of this would look at night. 
Attending an event gives you the chance to experience it as other people do. There is plenty to be learned from this-what proves awkward, what is not visually strong enough when a space is full of people, what proves to be good that you never gave a moment’s thought to. Any party in a garden will surprise you.