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The Center Of Interest: A Short Story

red-twig-dogwood.jpgOne way to organize a creative winter garden expression is to decide on a center of interest, and design every other element to celebrate that one big idea.  If you have a mind that your winter pot needs a centerpiece, I have some suggestions about the construction.  Let’s assume that you have built a foam form, and stick all of your greens to your satisfaction.  That foam form should have a hole in the middle, close to the diameter of the centerpiece you have in mind.  Sometimes we make that hole smaller, and cut the actual size during the installation.  A tight fit is a good idea.  We arrange the centerpiece using thick rubber bands to contain every stem.  Rubber bands will oblige, should you decide to add several more stems.  The centerpiece needs a place to be.  A great centerpiece for a winter pot needs some thought about the materials, and the construction.

winter-container.jpgFresh cut twigs are woody, and incredibly strong.  But once they have been cut away from the roots of the plant, they have no plan in place to keep them perfectly vertical in the container.  The center of all of our centerpieces is a stout bamboo stake.  Having done countless winter containers, we have an instinct about how long that stake should be.  Though it is part of the above grade centerpiece assembly, that stake will be pounded down into the soil of the container when it is installed.  The centerpiece needs to have something below ground to keep it vertical.  Bamboo ballast.

winter-container-arrangement.jpgOnce the soil in a pot freezes firmly around that bamboo stake, no winter storm can dislodge that centerpiece.  There are occasions when we add another element or two to the vertical centerpiece.  Some materials get strapped onto the twigs with zip ties or concrete wire.  Some materials are stuck into the foam-in that space between the greens and the twig centerpiece.  There are those times when the overall shape of the container will ask for hand sticking during an installation.  As much as I mean this essay to be of a tutorial sort, there are no formulas.  Given a general guideline, the individual eye and hand has to drive the bus.

winter-container-centerpiece.jpgThe green preserved leptospermum in this centerpiece was wedged into the copper curly willow, and purple preserved eucalyptus.  A third element introduced into a centerpiece can stitch a look together.  This lepto is a great contrast to the sleek and thick willow stems.  The color and texture adds interest to the purple eucalyptus.  The lepto moves this arrangement to another level.

winter-container.jpgA center of interest in a winter container sets the tone.  Said centerpiece will rule the roost.  Loose and asymmetrical centerpieces read like a well worn pair of jeans.  Structured centerpieces that reach for the sky-awesome.  A winter container with no centerpiece -a winter container well on its way to a contemporary expression.  Twigs arranged to represent in the vertical dimension-more formal. Or maybe more contemporary.  A twig centerpiece that fans out-a uniform fan is very formal.  Restrained.  A loose fan breathes, and chats up a storm.

winter-centerpiece.jpgNo matter what elements you plan to include in your centerpiece, a strong construction will reward you the entire season long.  Strong in, strong out.  Invest in some zip ties, if concrete wire and pliers are not your style.

winter-centerpiece.jpgEvery move you make in the construction of a winter container has visual meaning.  What you construct behind the scenes-I am in favor of a very strong construction.  What you construct behind the scenes also makes a visual statement.  Be clear about what you wish to say.  The time and pleasure that you take to express your idea of winter-everyone will appreciate that.

winter-container.jpgwinter container

winter-container-arrangement.jpgwinter container

pots-for-winter.jpgpots dressed for the winter.

Posted on: November 26, 2013 8 Comments
Filed Under: Winter, container planting, Holiday Tagged With: , ,

The Shop Winter Garden

 

The shop landscape is very simple.  A rectangle of boxwood set in a generous plane of decomposed granite, a pair of Techny arborvitae bookends, and a pair of lindens is about all there is.  These plants, almost 20 years old, occupy a modest percentage of the overall space.  This means there is room for a temporary, ephemeral, and seasonal garden expression.  Gardening in a zone which features four distinct seasons is a challenge and an opportunity I would never want to do without.  The chance to start fresh given the change of the season-love that.  The holiday/winter garden is no different.

The inspiration is almost always driven by a natural material that catches my eye.  This year, the curly copper willow branches are incredibly beautiful.  The color is rich and saturated.  The stems are fat and juicy-there is no hint of stress from the drought they endured all summer.  They have a distinctly fresh fragrance.  Each stout stem was topped with a cloud of delicate branches-breathtaking.  I ordered extra, so I would have enough to do the garden in front of the shop.

What would I do with them?  Fresh willow is incredibly flexible.  One could make baskets, fencing, wreaths-just about anything the eye could imagine, and the hand construct.  But I wanted a structure that would permit those thousands of tiny branches to make their own statement.  I use these steel forms at home to give my asparagus some support-I knew they would be perfect.  Attaching the thick stems, one stem at a time to this form, would provide stability without interfering with the natural form and inclination of the branchlets.   

Zip tying each branch was time consuming, and not so easy.  Each stem needed a friendly neighbor.  My landscape crew does a superb job of all of my landscape installations-their seasonal winter work is no exception. They are not only incredibly talented and willing, they have an understanding of natural forms that comes only with many years of exposure to plants.  They never force anything to be.  They let the material dictate the construction, and the overall shape.  They use whatever they need to make the overall shape complete-even if that means I need to order more.  

The douglas fir boughs have been stuffed into dry floral foam, some 6 inches thick.  The bottom 3 inches are wedged into the rim of the pot.  The six inches above the rim are a home to all of the boughs that are set horizontally.  A form this high off the rim of the pot needs reinforcing.  4 pieces of steel rebar are driven through the corners of the foam, and into the soil in the pots.  Once the soil freezes around that steel, it will take gale force winds to dislodge the curly willow. 

A cloud of copper willow and a low wide base of douglas fir- this year’s holiday/winter expression.  The time it takes to construct what will go on in these pots all winter is time I don’t spend moping about the closing of the garden.  Should everything come together, these pots will make a statement about what is good about the winter season.  A customer in the shop yesterday lives in San Francisco.  He tells me the climate and weather is the most consistent and unchanging of any city in the US.  Though he misses the change of the seasons, he does not miss the gray skies.  He is right.  Michigan is one of the grayest and gloomiest  of all of the states in the winter.

So a good part of our winter garden is about turning the lights on.  The light garland draped over the empty window boxes is comprised of three different strands of three different types of lights.  The weight of multiple light strings twisted around each other makes them drape gracefully-they are heavy.  Inside each willow cloud is a spot light, wedged into the floral foam.  A collar of dry limelight hydrangeas flowers conceals it from view.  The spot light illuminates the willow from within.  How I like this idea, and and how it looks.  A light garland would around the base of the willow illuminates them from the outside.  A pair of ball and cone topiary froms are wound solid with ordinary garden variety mini lights.  Ordinary materials do not have to be used in an ordinary way.  

Having turned the lights on, I have no idea what I will do with this next.  Part of the joy of a winter garden is having the time to tinker with it.  The spring and summer garden-I am always running to try to keep up.  This and that always needs something.  Though I have a lot of work yet to come helping clients with holiday and winter containers and decorating, there will be time to figure out what else this garden might need.       


Early this morning, a first dusting of snow.  As my winter is most assuredly on the way, I would rather like it than not.

 

Posted on: November 25, 2012 12 Comments
Filed Under: Detroit Garden Works, Winter, Lighting, container planting, Holiday Tagged With: , , ,

Through The Lens, Part 2

 

 

Yesterday’s photoshoot took 12 hours.  I was relieved to hear Bob was as tired as I was, at the end of the day.  We parted ways at 6:45 pm, with a plan to meet at 6:30 am this morning.  I was 5 minutes late-I was relieved he was not yet there.  Three of the photographs requested were slated by the BHG Art Director to feature winter pots with lighting.  This meant photoigraphs taken very early, or very late. Bob and I have been on deck both early and late.  I was so sleepy this morning I forgot my camera-pardon this unfocused picture taken with my iphone. I was a little alarmed to see that the lighting in the pots trumped by the lighting from the sconces on the house.  I had a feeling I would hear about this.   

Sure enough, Bob was not happy about those hot lights.  After some discussion, I asked him if he could unscrew the light bulbs in the lanterns.  6:30 am is no time to call an electrician.  No doubt,  my job was to help solve problems.     

 

 This winter pot features strings of mini lights, interrupted every so often by a light cover.  A light cover?  Years ago a company we bought from sold boxes of plastic spheres with an icy texture-designed to slip over a mini light.  What a great idea- these globes of light are so beautiful in our dark season.  We have never been able to source them again.  When I retire, I may design and manufacture light covers-do they not look great?

I was relieved that Bob was able to do his work, once we dialed down the lumens from those lanterns.  Of course the lights in the containers went off midway through the shoot.  I disabled the timer long enough for him to get what he wanted.  After the shoot concluded, we screwed every light bulb back in, and reset the timer.   

 

 He photographed the lights at the shop late in the day.  These pictures of mine were taken at dawn the day before he arrived.  I was ready 45 minutes before dawn to take some snapshots-this would help him plan.  The corgis were unsettled by this change in routine-breakfast at 5:30 am-really?

I never have any need for an alarm clock.  I am always up early.  But I set an alarm on a little digital clock I have had almost 40 years.  I wanted to be sure I was on time.  Once I got to work, and had a second cup of coffee, I was happy to be there.  The corgis quieted down, and rose to the moment.  We have had so little in the way of winter weather, I was delighted for this particular moment in a place I have come to every day for 16 years. I have nature to thank for that.  This particular moment. 

Bob says he was pleased with his photographs of the lighting in the winter pots at the shop.  He photographed from across the street.  Really?  Like I said, this was an educational trip. 

 Rob made this pair of winter sculptures for me every year.  I never ask for them.  I never make any suggestions.  What he does is a gift-I treat them as such.  They sit on top of a retaining wall at the end of my driveway.  They are what I see when I leave home in the morning.  They are what welcome me home at night.  I took this snapshot of them this past December.  They make me certain that there are certain seasonal elements in a landscape that truly do provide seasoning.  I would not want to do without them.  I take pains to make room for a little seasoning in every landscape I design.  What landscape would not be better, given the fragrance from lavender, or rosemary, or basil?  Winter pots provide a seasoning unlike any other-especially if you live in my zone.   

Late in the day, or early in the morning, these pots light my way, and my heart.   

Bob photographed them at 6:30 am the first day he was here. I was not privy to anything he did-I was completely absorbed with unfreezing the lock on the gates.  He wanted the gates open.  In retrospect, I understand this.  Every garden should issue an invitation.  An invitation to interact-an invitation to share.  I did finally get the gates opened.  What Bob photographed-I have no idea. 

The first day of this shoot was day and night.  I was great fun to be a part of that.

Posted on: February 26, 2012 1 Comment
Filed Under: Good Design, Landscape Design, Garden Stories Tagged With: , , , ,

Christmas In February

 

At the end of the first week of January, I reluctantly took the Christmas light garlands draped around these pots down, and put them in storage.  After all, the holidays were over.  This year I was especially reluctant for the holiday season to end-we had had no snow.  Though the temperature was chilly, we were denied that one ingredient that in my mind makes for Christmas-the snow.   

This photograph with all of the lights blazing taken just before Christmas does seem to lack that special seasonal element-does it not?  I felt we were so ready for the snow-that snow that never came. 

Winters in Michigan are notable for their grey skies, and their abundance of snow.  For whatever reason, our clouds were dry as dust.  It looked for all the world like we had the heat up much too high-and unnecessarily.  We designed a winter display based on the norm for our winters.  The norm went into hiding. 

The collection and placement of these dried stalks of asparagus-Rob had an idea to fragment and diffuse an intense source of C-9 light with those stalks.  This is his version of snow or ice defining every branch distinctly-only that distinction was drawn with light.  Snow on the evergreen boughs in this window box would have added a whole other dimension to this arrangement.  Nature was not interested in cooperating.

I took photographs anyway.  But I so would have loved seeing the front of the shop buried in snow, with the lights running.  Who knows what that might have looked like. 

I took the lights down January 7.  But if you happened to drive by the shop in the past few days, you would have seen those lights going back on the containers.  Lest you think I have gone way over the deep end, Better Homes and Gardens has a photographer arriving Saturday to photograph some of my holiday and winter pots.  The lights had to go back on the pots, as they want to photograph them.   They were insistent that they wanted snow on all of the containers they wanted to photograph.  So the holiday lighting came out of storage. 

 Needless to say, we have been talking about this photo shoot for several months.  This snow squall in late January, just about our only snow this winter, lasted for all of about 3 hours.   2 weeks ago,  it looked like we might have snow showers tomorrow and Saturday.  The Chicago based photographer made some plans to travel-we were at a do or don’t moment.  They have 8 winter pots they want photographed.  Saturday. Who knew the weather would deliver in spades.  

This morning I read that our area has 5 to 8 inches coming tonight.  1 to 3 inches on Friday.  Snow squalls and cloudy skies on Saturday.  Mother nature suddenly has a mind to cooperate mind to cooperate in a big way.  8 inches, no kidding?  We loaded a truck today with props for the shoot, branches, snow shovels and brooms.  We loaded up a blower too.  If every pot is buried, we need to do a little uncovering.  I have already told everyone who works at the shop-do not walk across the lawn and come to the front door-take the side entrance.  The photographer has already asked for fresh snow, and not snow with boot prints.

A photograph of a garden in its finest moment bears no remote resemblance to a real garden.  But a beautiful garden photographed at its finest moment might encourage someone who has never gardened to give gardening a try. This is important to me.  Anyone who paints, photographs, gardens, writes, manages,  composes, sculpts, makes movies, or designs-  they all share this in common. That which gets created implies an audience.  There is a story over which a relationship can be forged.  I am so very pleased that we are about to get snow.  That snow means I will be in touch.

Posted on: February 23, 2012 3 Comments
Filed Under: Landscape Design, Holiday, Detroit Garden Works Tagged With: , , ,