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Telegraph Road

Some landscape projects invove a lot of tearing up and moving around. This 19th century home is situated a long way from the street. The original gravel driveway was in a deteriorated state, in large measure due to the fact that it followed the existing contours of the land. This put parts of the drive under water in a hard rain. A road needs a proper base, and grading such that rain water runs off.

If you live anywhere near me, I am sure you have been privy to a landscape construction site of staggering proportion. The demolition and rebuilding of miles worth of Telegraph Road has been going on for months. Telegraph is a major north-south thoroughfare; I may travel on it 6 times on a busy day. I am not alone in this-thousands of trucks, cars and buses use it to swiftly get from one place to another. The heavy volume of traffic and the Michigan winters have taken their toll; no one denies there was a need to rebuild.

The volume of trucks hauling away old road and hauling in new materials is equally staggering. Construction vehicles, excavators, bulldozers are cordoned off from from the two lanes still open to traffic by thousands of orange cones. Crossovers are open one day, and closed the next. It is a massive project, producing a massive disruption to the people who work and shop in the area, and the businesses who rely on the road to provide simple access. This is a go for broke project that can make a quick trip north seem like an off-road rally.

My client’s project seems so benign and modest by comparison, but the concepts are the same. A road needs engineering. It needs to be easily maneuverable. It needs to drain. It needs compacting to withstand the weight of vehicles in all kinds of weather. In this case, some 10 inches of base was required to get the drive to drain. Many hundred of yards of soil were required to bring the ground up around the new drive.

I have tried to be good natured about being brought to a dead stop time and time again. I have had more than enough time to put my truck in park, and take photographs. I cannot deny that it has been an interesting process to watch. The concrete of the old road being pulverized by a massive machine equipped with a battering ram that makes the ground shake. The numerous giant trucks whose only job all day long is to haul away debris. The giant concrete drain tiles littering the dirtscape. The hundreds of people running machines-how does such a huge project get coordinated? I have tried to view mile after mile of the most God awful mess imaginable as landscape theatre. It really does seem like what usually zips by me in a few minutes has become a full length feature. This particular day I was stuck at a crossover for at least 4 lights, while some machinery and trucks got moved around.

The man shoulder deep in a giant trench is communicating with the excavator operator via hand signals-the deafening noise precluded any talk. The stoppage of traffic behind me starts to stretch out. Once the truck in front of me backs into his slot, I make my escape at the Quarton Road cross over.

This man in the pit has nerve if nothing else. I would not be so comfortable, downhill from a machine of this size. I love pushing dirt around as much as the next gardener, but is earthwork on an astonishing scale. The following day, the Quarton Road crossover is closed. This puts me miles out of my way; I hate having to go south to go north. Just as I think I am home free, A tree trimming crew has eastbound Quarton closed. To the north, Lone Pine is closed all the way to Cranbrook Road-a new road, drainage system and bridge is in progress. I am forced further south. I am 25 minutes later getting to the job than I planned for.

I will confess I have traded in my fascination for the project for a fascination with how to avoid it. Woodward Avenue runs parallel to Telegraph; I have clear sailing all the way north to Orchard Lake Road. Once I drive under the Phoenix Center in Pontiac, I am but a short distance from the shop. Middlebelt Road runs north and south on the west side of Telegraph. It is a smaller road, but traffic moves along briskly. I feel bad for all of the businesses located along Telegraph; the contruction is so extensive and visually confusing.

The very last straw?? MDOT closed the exit ramp from Telegraph onto Orchard Lake to any driver coming north three weeks ago. The detours that would permit my clients to get to me are poorly marked. The best bet; continue north on Telegraph and go under the Orchard Lake Bridge. The very next crossover will take you to the southbound exit off Telegraph. In three weeks, I am just seeing the first moves made to rebuild it. Can you hear me sigh? We can help you navigate if you need it; I think we are worth a little travel trouble.

Posted on: October 4, 2010 4 Comments

Checking In To The Grumpery

The month of March in Michigan always manages to test the good nature of the most graceful and exuberantly positive gardener. The bitter last of the winter is still firmly entrenched. It is 20 degrees, with snow flurries today. It will be 14 degrees over night. I don’t know why these buckets of cheerfully fake red poinsettias irritate me so much. If I didn’t know it was March, I would think it was Christmas time.

The north side of every cranny on my property has dirty snow and dead leaves on top of ice. The night temperatures regularly sink below freezing. Dead tree branches litter the garden. The cold winds come and bring paper and plastic trash. Burned orange evergreen needles jump out at me. The south side of every Alberta spruce in my neighborhood is burned.

Tree trunks of espaliers whose bark has been gnawed off by rabbits-I fear for the lives of these plants.

Boxwood tips turning from cream to tan-I see the signs that signal winter kill. Never mind the bare boxwood branches courtesy of the winter of 2014.

My snowdrops that have just emerged will be subjected to 14 degree temperature over night. These should be named frozen through and through drops. I do not see any signs of the crocus-that is a good thing.

Some patches of my hellebores are still smothered in icy snow. I am thinking of shoveling the last of the winter off of them, but I probably would take the crown of the plant with it.

The dead fern heads and cold singed European ginger laid flat out-I am more than ready for this phase of the year to be over. If you are a gardener, this is what March Madness really means.

My yard is dirty. I have a big love for dirt-but not this kind of dead grass and compacted muck dirt. The dirt just outside the doorways is salt saturated. This dirt is in my car, and on my kitchen floor. When it dries, it dries white. A dirty white, that is.

Potholes, gaping and deep potholes, open up in the neighborhood streets. I believe a neighbor, out of desperation, filled this with dirt. A water main broke here in late January. A huge disk of ice sat here until a few weeks ago, when the pavement seemed to disintegrate over night. The skies are the same color as this road.

Even the dogs had that accusatory look on their faces-can’t you do something about the endless winter?

We are still stuck indoors and moping. Why I went outside to see the dead leaves on the ivy – I am not sure. Maybe just to verify that we are truly living the misery.

I have talked to Buck at great length about all of this. On a number of occasions. Finally last night he advises me to go to the grumpery, and leave him be. I do not fault him for his exasperation. We have an understanding about the grumpery. The grumpery is a place for any gardener who is so over the winter that they need to be quarantined. I am hoping I do not need to spend too many more days there.

Posted on: March 27, 2015 40 Comments

Filed Under: Spring, Strictly Opinion Tagged With: late winter, March in Michigan

The New Kid

If you follow this blog, you know the Corgi boys- Howard and Milo. And MCat, a feral kitten who grew up under a stack of Italian terra cotta pots, and now lives the good cat life in my office and the shop. Rob lost the last of his mini-schnauzer pair a few years ago; he has made noises on and off for some time now about another dog. He so missed having a dog. This past fall, I could tell a puppy was in the works. One day, an 8 week old standard schnauzer named Larry showed up at the door. That cute as a button and unsure of himself 8 week old phase lasted about 2 days. We all were in the throes of the puppyhood life and times. Rob-he was happy.

I had my worries about the corgis. They are both 5 years old now; they have their routine, and they rule the roost. Unless MCat decides to take them them on. Their puppy encounter years ago with Rob’s mini-schnauzers was a trial by fire. Those aging schnauzers were mean and snarly on day 1; their irritation, disdain and displeasure persisted well beyond day 1005. In all fairness, they were well up in years- the new Corgi puppies were a colossal pain. I worried-would my corgis be jerk 1 and 2 to the new kid? Day 1 through 5 went fine-I could see they were thinking the new kid was an abberation. We were babysitting, or helping someone through a transition, or providing a home for a stray while we searched for a new home. The end of week 1, they knew the world had changed. By the end of week 2, Milo broke the ice. He threw his weight around with impunity. Baby Larry was enchanted.

He did have that irrestible puppy look-good thing. We were all scooping him up for regular trips outdoors while Rob was busy. Outside of his propensity to piddle every 10 minutes, all went swimmingly. Once Milo was over the shock, he got right into the puppy routine. When he had the time energy and inclination, he played hard. When he was tired, he endured.

Howard worried me more. Surprisingly, he took a very benign position. Larry moved right into the dog quarters under my desk-not much of a peep out of Howard. When he thought that Milo was playing too rough, he intervened. Puppies always go too far, don’t they? Should Howard be pressed beyond reason to reveal all of his teeth, Larry moves his antics a few feet off shore. Howard likes the baby-who could have predicted that?

Milo has done the lion’s share of saying hello and welcome. Should Larry want to interact, he is game. I breathed a big sigh of relief. Milo accepted him. This is not to say he does not drive Milo wild-but there is a good relationship growing there.

Good thing, for those early relationships. Larry has grown by leaps and bounds-he towers over the Corgis, even though he is only a baby. He is teething-there is not one thing he will not chew. He is a big puppy now-this means lots of energy. The fallout from him chewing plans, drapes and rugs-we have to make time to teach. All of us are on Larry watch.

I am so pleased for Rob. A dog is a friend like no other. This one is an adolescent handful-just yesterday he jumped into the lap of a client who came for a consult-and stayed. The client-not one bit perturbed. He will eventually learn some manners, she told me. Gardening people value their contact with nature. To the last, they like dogs. The new kid today? A standard schnauzer baby cyclone.

It is hard to stay mad at him for long. He has lots of energy-most of which he puts to demanding some sort of social interaction. He knows how to bark; there is no ignoring him. He wants to be a voting member of the group. OK, he is a voting member of the group.

This new staff member is in training. Come spring, ask for Larry.

Posted on: February 2, 2011 5 Comments

Filed Under: The Natural World Tagged With: Larry

August

By the time August comes around, I am ready to take a vacation from the work of my garden, and just enjoy it. In May I might renovate a spot that has gotten a little tired or overgrown. I added a new strip of pachysandra this year in the fountain garden. The yews have grown a lot, and the grass is not happy in their shade. For better or for worse, I make decisions about what to plant in my pots, and get them planted. In June, the problems generated by the previous winter become obvious. Replacements go in the ground. 4 all but dead rhododendrons get removed. In the case of my rose garden which finally completely succumbed to the insult of two bitterly cold winters, I decided to do nothing. We not only need a new roof this fall, we need a place to shovel off the old roof.

When the weather finally warms up in July, I might start watering here and there. I do not run my sprinkler system on a regular program. I water what I think needs to be watered. I only rarely run all of the zones at once. Once the water goes on, broken heads, or a need for a change in coverage become obvious. Sprinkler repairs-July work.The seasonal pots begin to settle in, and put down roots.

Once August comes, I want to take the time to enjoy the garden. The watering and maintenance of the pots is not a chore. I enjoy that. It is a perfect way to wind down from the day. I water. I tinker with this or that leaf that needs to be removed. The maintenance of the pots is about falling in to the pleasure of a garden. I sweep up all of the maple helicopters. I make the effort to appreciate what is there, and not worry about what should be there. Fall is a much better time to make changes in a landscape. Mid seventies during the day, and upper fifties at night is not the norm for Michigan in August. Why not enjoy that? A temperate August in Michigan is a gift that should be treasured. Buck and I visit each garden every day after work. The corgis come along. This August is temperate. We are eating outdoors every night. No matter the menu, there is always Michigan grown corn and tomatoes.

Even the simplest spots that are completely familiar look good to me. Most of the plants have been there a long time, and seem happy. Those that aren’t will be dealt with some other time. Right now is for what is good about it. I feel like I am on vacation when I am home, and that seems like a good thing.

So why is my August garden vacation on my mind? I met with a client late last week who just days ago moved into a new house. The house she left was a beautiful turn of the century home on a big piece of property. She had invested an incredible amount of time in the landscape and gardens. The decision to move was a family decision. Decisions like this are made by people all the time, including those people who have a passion for, and work the garden. Most people have important obligations and commitments, and that includes gardening people.

She has only been in her new house for a few days. The property is astonishingly large. There are some old trees, and lawn as far as the eye can see. The house is almost completely obscured by overgrown shrubs. A typical suburban foundation planting had been left to its own devices. In one spot was the largest and tallest stand of Canada thistle I have ever seen. The house had not been occupied for quite some time, and that landscape had been neglected. She did tell me quite a bit about the garden she had just left. How she had planted all of the landscape and gardens herself, and how she managed to maintain it, in addition to having a job and family to look after. That discussion was about more than her loss. It was about helping me to understand what had been important to her. I did not ask her what trees, shrubs and perennials she liked. I did not ask her about color or style. I wanted to know why she called me.

She answered without hesitating. She told me she was a gardener, and not a designer. What she was looking for from me was a plan. An outline of how to go about creating a landscape and garden that would make her new house feel like a home. A way of making sense of 2.5 acres of wide open space. She knows as well as I do how much time and effort that will take. She already has a plan to remove all of the overgrown foundation plantings this fall. Her August will be very different than mine.

That said, I could sense her resolve. I could tell that she has the energy to take on a project of this size, and see it through. She is a gardener, after all. With some time and thought, I think I can provide her with a place to dig in. She is counting on me for that, and I plan to give it to her.

Her situation is not unknown to me. When I was her age, I had a new house and property. For years I did nothing to it. I was too busy getting Detroit Garden Works off the ground, and tending to my landscape practice. But there came a time when I wanted to make time for it. That was all it took. If this client wants to make time for it on day two of her possession of the new house, you can rest assured she is serious. She will make something beautiful and interesting of her property.

When I got home later that day, I was glad I had persisted over a period of years making a landscape and garden. It was, and is, worth it. On top of this, a new client whose love of the garden is a call I will do my best to answer.

On my deck today, many shades of green. On my mind, an avid gardener with a new house lacking a landscape.

Tonight, I have little in the way of obligations. On a Sunday in August, I do my best to enjoy the fruits of all of my work. The deck pots look good to me.