Taking the Next Step


It was not my intent to give the impression that the time it took to write my previous post was in any way comparable to the time it took to light up that first vintage steel hoop and end up manufacturing steel light rings. In face I want to discourage that interpretation. That post was written well after the fact and in a matter of hours. The evolution of that glimmer of an idea to light up a vintage tractor wheel and hang it in a tree to shipping light rings all over the US – that took years.  It takes loads of time to move off one’s own familiar dime in search of a new way of seeing –  or being. Doesn’t it?

It was many years ago that we moved up to making light rings with multi colored light strands. White mini lights were not the only game in town, right? The hoops were fashioned from channel steel the width of which snugly held the incandescent light strings in place. The wrapping of the lights was a very formal and serious affair. Once Rob leapt off the usual and familiar, he abandoned the incandescent light strings for LED’s. The price had come down, and the expense to power them up was dramatically less. That was a crucially important step, but it meant that the hoops had to be redesigned. The ring is wider and the channel is deeper now. The best news of all of that transformation is the cost of running the lights around the clock, and close to all year long, was very reasonable. The interest in the hoops grew.

I recall a fling with LED cherry light strands. Rob does make lots of winter/holiday lighting available to customers of Detroit Garden Works. The cherry lights are just one style of many we have had available to use. We took to those cherry lights-meaning we wrapped light rings with them.  The fascination with those luminous sphere lights goes on – as well it should. I also remember a brief bead we had on various mixes of lights large and small. We were hooping it up.  Years later, a five foot ring belonging to an adventuresome client now has lighted ornament hanging in that big empty space inside the ring. Hung from an arbor at the far end of her driveway, it lights the way as much as it says welcome home and Merry Christmas. The winter lights have a sculptural intent, but they also shoo away the dark.

Rob stepped up to a version of the hanging light hoop that featured four rod steel legs. The new free standing rings could be placed in pots, or directly into the soil in the landscape. This step forward was liberating. One year a five foot light ring strung with our LED mini lights was wreathed in large galvanized snow flakes –  zip tied on to the steel circle – one 3-D flake at a time. I don’t remember how that idea came to be, but it was smashing.  Months ago, a client with existing light rings was looking for a fresh iteration. I was fussing a little and fuming plenty about what to do with them –  not seeing a clear way forward. It finally occurred to me that her lighted rings could be armatures or structures. Those rings could be the supporting cast.  A foundation upon which another independent element could be added.

I found a direction worth pursuing. Pairing a light ring with a 6′ long lighted twig garland proved to be just the thing for taking a sculptural step. This light garland is very different than a typical light strand featuring all of the lights in an evenly spaced row. Once the garland is fluffed out, it added volume to the ring without weighing it down.  The sturdily wired and lit branchlets enabled placing them both to the inside and to the outside of the ring. We featured this pairing this past week in the winter containers in the front of the shop. The long wired arms make the lights appear to be floating around the ring. Handsome, this.

Once all of our winter work for clients is done, we dress the front of the shop. This is a project we greatly enjoy, as it signals that all of our booked work is finished. The pace slows down. We take that time to sort out how we want to proceed, as we can. The centerpiece of this garden is a large and substantial cast iron vat.  Five cases of noble fir from an alternate supplier sitting untouched in a corner proved to be the largest and longest fir boughs of the entire season. We had no idea that these boxes held such evergreen gold.  That robust scale and length was just what this light ring and vat needed to make a winter container where every element is of proper proportion to the size of the space and the container.

The windowsills inside my office are deep. I would say a foot or better. I have long toyed with the idea of making that interior sill space part of the exterior winter display-and vice versa. There is no reason not to. The glass is not a barrier to seeing. We loaded small galvanized rectangles with dry foam and lights, and 4 rows of pussy willow, set them close to the glass.

Those closely spaced sticks provided a simple yet uniformly textured background to the rings. It afforded the vignette some depth. They helped to define the space. They look good!

Making the view of the inside an integral part of the outside also provided privacy from the inside out. Every step we took with this project was a step in a direction I liked.

Filling the 2 planter boxes on either side of the front door solidly with bunches of pussy willow completed the look.


Bring it on, January.

Buds

You know it is the dead of winter in Michigan when the garden is a place to long for from afar. Most of my garden views now are through the windows. Not that I didn’t plan for good views from inside, but the sheer thrill of a landscape is being in it, or experiencing it up close. I would be lying if I said I enjoyed the winter as much as the other three seasons. Ha!~ I hate being cooped up, and I am not a skier or an ice fisherman. Being outside now is a necessity to get from one place to another. I do not walk my garden in the winter. I cannot really explain this, but I do not want to disturb my dormant landscape. In my opinion, the winter is the time to let everything as it is, be. As it is, to see this part of the garden in winter requires gearing up – as in coat, hat, boots and gloves. Today I jump tromped through the snow rather that shoveling the upper deck, to take this picture. Was it worth the effort? But for a gorgeous circa 1920 Jarre de Biot, from the now closed Poterie Provencale that makes my heart beat faster every time I look at it, this scene is not that scenic. A garden growing and representing is a tough act to follow.

The best part of it may be the Parrotia Persica. There are four of them in the driveway garden. I planted them close to 20 years ago. This means they are old enough to exhibit that beautiful exfoliating bark prized by gardeners. They also hang on to their leaves throughout all but the windiest of winters. Those copper color leaves are a sight for winter sore eyes.

Even these dead leaves look good to me. But the fact of the matter is I am not looking at anything that is dead. Hibernating would be a better and much less emotionally charged word. Every woody plant in my yard grew and set buds for the spring of 2018 last summer. Some buds, on spring flowering trees are flower buds.  Smaller buds will surely become leaves once the weather breaks. The dead leaves from 2017 on the parrotias will be pushed off in the spring, when the 2018 leaf buds set in 2017, swell and grow. The parrotias were ready for this winter long before I was.

The flower buds on magnolia trees are large and fuzzy. No big fuzzy oval buds on a magnolia going in to winter means there will be no flowers. Terribly cold weather can damage or destroy those flower buds, while the leaf buds survive. A flower bud is a big and vulnerable structure, whereas every tree keeps their leaf buds close to their vest until the winter passes. It is an easy matter to spot magnolia flower buds in winter, especially when a light and dry snow falls. You can see your future in the garden if you see the signs. Happily, I see magnolia flowers in my future.

Nature does not wait until the last minute to make a move. As no growth goes on during the winter months, the formation of buds for the spring to come have to be made many months in advance. This is why watering trees and shrubs in August and on through the fall is so important. Once the leaves drop, and the ground freezes, there will be no more activity until the season turns to spring. It only makes sense that the growth of any woody plant instigated by the spring of one year culminates in the readiness for the spring of the following year. This is not in any way magical.  It is survival.

The dogwoods are the easiest to read. The big fat round buds set in September are flower buds. The small pointed buds will eventually unfurl and become leaves. In a way, I regret knowing in advance whether there will be a heavy dogwood bloom 6 months in advance of the fact. But I do like knowing in advance that if I water my trees properly at the time they are setting flower and leaf buds, I am giving them a helping hand.

Though it might appear that all there is to see here are sticks and snow, nothing could be further from the truth. Thousands upon thousands of fully formed but dormant buds are ready and waiting for the light to turn green. Imagine that.The spring season every gardener longs for will finally arrive, and will be impossible to keep up with.

The spring is a rush of events almost impossible to keep track of. I am sure there are moments I miss, no matter how much effort I put towards experiencing it all. Today I took note of the columnar fruiting pear tree in the foreground of this picture, and imagined what it will be to see it it in full bloom with the leaf shoots not far behind. I had time for that today. Those flowers in spring will last but a moment.

I also had time to think about how nature is a consummate engineer. Very little of the story of survival is left to chance. That is a big topic best left to the dog days of winter to think about. All the bare branches outlined in snow today were beautiful. But what is simmering beneath the surface is better than beautiful.

These evergreen Frazier fir boughs were cut in November. They were stuffed in to dry floral foam set in the containers I have at the end of my driveway. Though they were cut from the tree 3 months ago, the dormant buds are still plump, juicy, and viable. This is what I would call the miracle of the will to live. That will to live and prosper is so strong in every living thing. Nature makes the plant world, in all of its forms, possible. Viable.

Though the view out my window is this shade of blah and that shade of blah, and all that blah dusted with a fresh layer of snow from grey skies, what lies in wait beneath the surface is very exciting, indeed. Waiting out the winter is an exercise in restraint and appreciation. Truly.

 

A Snowy Interlude

February snow (16)As near as I can tell, we had 16 inches of snow fall yesterday.  Actually, it didn’t really fall-the wind blew it every which way. It started out slow, but it was steady.  At 5 pm yesterday, I had decided the weather forecast people had been outwitted by Mother Nature once again. We had some snow-but we always have snow. A winter in Michigan without snow is rare. The piddling daytime accumulation surely was not the volume of snow we had had by this time last year. I was yawning.  By 6pm the speed of descent had really picked up, along with the wind. Hmm. By 10 pm, I knew the snowfall would be considerable.

February snow (17)This was our first snow storm of the winter.  As much as I detest being shut out of my garden, the winter landscape can be quite beautiful.  If a landscape has been designed with a winter season in mind, there should be plenty to look at. I suppose I should be censured for still having my garland and wreath up in February, but it has a wintry look to me. I like having it to look at.  I feel the same way about my winter lighting. How the lights melt the snow-bravo, those lights.

February snow (15)The evergreens in my landscape are beautiful, given either a dusting, or a drubbing of weather. We had lots of wind; would that I were able to photograph it. It was fierce. The big Norway maple in the back left of this photograph was swaying, and creaking. The sound was as spectacular as the motion.

February snow (5)In the morning, the landscape was all about the depth of the snow, and the height of the drifts. Beautiful. Some storms can be utterly destructive and horrifying. This snow, everywhere, whipped into the most astonishing shapes, was breathtaking.

February snow (20)It took an hour for one of my landscape crew people to shovel the drive. They look after me in the winter.  I will admit that I backed the suburban blind down the driveway to the street to clean it off. There really isn’t any other place to put snow here.  The Suburban snow went in the street.

February snow (11)Once I cleaned off the bus, I backed it back up the driveway.  I would need to gun it out of the drive into the street.  Only the momentum established by this heavy vehicle would propel me 1/2 block to the next street over-which had been plowed. My city only plows the main arteries in a neighborhood. I would be on my own, getting to that plowed street.

February snow (6)Before I left for work, I had to take more pictures. We had a landscape/weather event, and I am a fan of such. I am trying not to think about another snow storm, as the snow piles are 6 feet tall from this one storm. But all the snow was beautiful.  I shoveled the upper deck myself.  The snow was dry and powdery-I just pushed it off the deck into the yard.

February snow (2)My winter pots had a look this morning not of my own creation.  Given a rock solid construction, they were unfazed by all of the snow.  Just so much better looking. So striking, the forms generated by the snow.

February snow (8)These plastic picks with rhinestone dots were unbowed, and still glittering this morning.

February snow (1)The fountain yard was sculptural beyond anything I had been able to achieve with this space.  It was corgi-proof.  Even Milo would not venture off the bottom stair. I love the peace and quiet of it.  How the landscape is muffled.

February snow (3)This thick blanket of snow illustrates how the garden is sleeping in the very strongest of graphic terms.

February snow (4)garden bench in winter

February snow (13)fencing, stone wall, and yews-interpreted by the snow.

February snow (7)The snow has transformed my winter landscape-all for the better.

A Quick Look At Some Stick Work

Federal Reserve Building (8)A  client who calls for work after the holidays is unusual, but we were happy to oblige.  We had materials, and there are months of winter yet to come. They had purchased these large scale contemporary birch faux bois concrete planters from Branch over a year ago.  The landscape is dominated by a single river birch.  An arrangement that would feature birch seemed natural.  We had just enough 3″ caliper poles to fill the pair of planters.  Bunches of white lepto came in handy for filling the gaps between the poles. Our last three cases of mixed evergreen boughs were just enough to soften the top of the pot with a thick blanket of green.

Federal Reserve Building (6)The ground plane of the landscape was done with groundcovers of various types in spaces dictated by a pattern of aluminum edger strip, and gravel.  The pattern established is graphically strong.  There were a few areas designated for a seasonal planting.  The concrete boxes had been planted with chrysanthemums for the fall.  What could be done in those areas that would have some height, volume and presence over the winter?  Our solution was to cut up some 1″ and 2″ diameter birch poles into random short lengths. Each piece had a hole drilled all the way through each end. Each of the poles were loosely attached to its neighbor with heavy gauge aluminum wire. The end result-a giant birch garland.

Federal Reserve Building (9)In order to get some height and mass, rolls of grapevine were stretched out and pinning into the soil.  The pinning was easy, as the ground was frozen.

Federal Reserve Building (5)We zip tied the birch garland to the grapevine where it seemed appropriate.

Federal Reserve Building (4)The large size bamboo poles was a vestige of a previous installation-not by us.  The client wanted to leave them in.  That was a good thing, as they were set into metal sleeves placed below ground.  Water had completely filled the sleeves.  The poles were solidly frozen into place by time we got there. I rather prefer the birch poles here.  They look like they belong in a winter garden in Michigan.  There is a certain authenticity to the materials used here.

Federal Reserve Building (3)In the background, the last of our big linden espaliers.  At 9′ wide and 12′ tall each, they mean something in front of this large commercial building.  Properly cared for, they will only get better looking as time goes on.  Funny how some very large commercial spaces devour almost every bit of the land they sit on. It takes the right material and a very strong design to work in a space like this.  I did not do the landscape design here, but I like it.

Federal Reserve Building (1)Hauling around four sets of fresh cut birch garland was the perfect installation for a 12 degree day.  We warmed up in a hurry. Once we were done, all we needed was some snow.  I wonder what it looks like now that we have a good snow cover.