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Learning

Lots of people ask me about how I work with color in the garden. How I decide on a color scheme for a container. I have tried to write about my process, but I always have the nagging feeling that the discussion falls short. Frustrating, this. Though I know that any creative process cannot be quantified, or reduced to a step by step, I would teach, if I could. I had occasion recently to view a video of a TED talk, thanks to Buck. TED, if you are familiar, is a forum for presenting speakers who have something to say about ideas worth spreading. Interested? www.ted.com. He keeps up better than I do-about what there is out there to learn. Her had me listen to a talk given by Joi Ito.

In March of 2011 he was interviewing for the directorship of the MIT media lab. Late that night, a magnitude 9 earthquake struck off the coast of Japan, just several hundred kilometers from his wife, children and family. In the terrifying hours that ensued, he discovered that he could not reach his family. Nor was any government or news agency broadcasting any information about the damage to nuclear reactions by the earthquake. Frantic for information about his family, and for all the other families besieged by a disaster of this scale, he went to what he knew. The internet.

In the following hours and days he contacted friends, hackers, scientists and families and put together a citizen science group he called Safecast. Over the next few months this group of amateurs with no scientific or governmental standing managed to invent a process by which to measure the radiation levels. They put geiger counters on the ground; they measured the radiation. They made available at no charge information that people could use. Information for anyone for whom this earthquake had devastatingly personal consequences.

In his talk, he speaks eloquently of how his drive to get the information he wanted and needed was enabled by the internet. The volume of information out there that can be accessed is limitless. The internet allows people who have similar interests to meet digitally. His discussion of how the internet makes it possible for citizens of certain groups to meet and solve problems which transcend any map or country interested me. Most certainly passionate gardeners are citizens of a country all their own.

Joi Ito went on to discuss in simple terms the process of learning. What stood out to me the most? “Education is something that someone else does to you. Learning is something one does to/for oneself.” I like this idea. In fact, I like it a lot. If anyone would ask me what was most valuable part of my college education, I would have to say that I learned how to learn about what interested me. Of course the world has changed immeasurably since 1970.

One can access an seemingly limitless amount of information with a computer or a smart phone. Anyone can learn whatever it is that they truly want to learn. As far as developing a personal sense of how to user color in containers-I did not study this in school. I was interested enough to learn. That learning process, which is still ongoing, and still of great interest to me, was all about the doing. Plenty of color combinations did not work out so well. But their is as much to learn from those combinations that do not work out, as there is from those that do.

How people perceive color is very personal. What appeals to my eye may not appeal to yours. But that is not the point. Anything you see that interests or intrigues you may encourage you enough to learn what you need to know to express your own ideas. To understand what color relationships appeal to you as a gardener is all the fun of it.

Mr. Ito’s talk was very interesting. Want to watch it for yourself? http://www.wimp.com/wantinnovate/

Posted on: July 16, 2014 12 Comments

Filed Under: container planting, Color Tagged With: annual color, annual color schemes, learning, Ted.com, working with color in the garden

Sunday Opinion: Garden Making

I know have I made more than passing reference to how a great garden makes beautiful music. There are those natural notes volunteered from the birds, the water running, the bees, the kids, the thunder, the conversations with friends, footsteps crunching on the gravel, a shovel sinking deep into the soil. There is rhythm and beat supplied by the repetition of plants, materials, or shapes. There are individual melodies created by a specimen tree or gorgeous pot that come into play. There is movement- from the grasses, the dogs, from the seasons, from the weather. The wind is an expressive instrument creating sounds not so unlike the music from a clarinet empowered by the breath of an individual musician. There is a gardener in charge who writes the score, and plays.

I cannot remember the exact moment that I became a gardener, but I am sure it was not a particularly momentous occasion. My Mom giving me a package of seeds? A salesperson who persuaded me that I could in fact grow orchids? A painting? A memory? Who knows. I find those moments that really changed or influenced my life are barely worth mentioning-beyond the fact that I was ready to hear.

How I garden is my take on a constellation of events created from my exposure to nature. My exposure to people, places and events matters much. My relationship with the soil-basic, and visceral. Musical.

Water from the hose-I love the sound; I like the taste. My hose is a lifeline that stretches between me, and my plants, and makes for a gardening life. I cannot really explain this, but Linsey Pollak can. http://www.wimp.com/coolestmen/

I am afraid to try to grow vegetables. The failure rate is high. Vegetable gardens seem depressingly ugly and disease ridden. Every bug on the planet would respond to the invitation to come to my yard. But Linsey Pollak, he makes me want to try to grow carrots. If for no other reason than to enable the music. It is no mean accomplishment in this world-making something grow. Linsey Pollack grows lots. Put his info right next to your seed catalogues. Be determined to make some music. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWbj7FYEi3M

Still interested? http://linseypollak.com/

Posted on: February 5, 2012 2 Comments

Filed Under: Strictly Opinion Tagged With: Linsey Pollak

Sunday Opinion: Wait One Moment, Please

Once my garden finally comes to life in the spring, it seems so utterly groggy for so many weeks, I finally feel like poking it with a big stick. More than once have I smashed shoots just emerging from the ground, milling about where I had no business. One foolishly warm day in March turns the old blood over, as Theodore Roethke would say, and I am out there searching for any sign of life. The next day is inevitably wintry. I am admirably able go on to my clients about the proper time for this or that, but frankly I am not any better at waiting than the next gardener. My landscape is a study in static the end of January. Every day is just about as dreary as the next. The sky I can see, which surely must be thousands of square miles, is the same sullen shade of bleak from edge to edge, and top to bottom. A relentlessly uniform tour de force, if you will. Michigan is known for for its astonishing number of sun-free winter days, should anyone be interested in that. How annoying -to be waiting for the weather to change.

Every walking surface is an icy and bumpy history of the footsteps of those few who venture out. The mail man has his signature bootprint. There are the corgi paws, the Fex Ex man, whose boots are distinctly different than the UPS man, and the meter reader prints. The arrival of the mail truck ranks as an event. Friends in the neighborhood honk the horn as they drive by; they are waiting for spring too. Still stubbornly wearing tennis shoes, I slide all over the terrain. Playing ball with the corgis in the drive is more about keeping my balance than watching them. They slide around, slip up and flip over- with gusto. They draw no distinction between a balmy spring day and today’s plate of frozen mush. Milo manages to find yet one more fresh deep patch of snow in which to bury his ball, and them triumphantly dives and retrieves it, as if he had never before had so much fun. He has better than an instinct to survive the waiting; he lives for that triumphant moment when can burst through the door, and be outdoors. Why can’t I do this? I man that door for him as if it were the starting gate at the Kentucky Derby. (Waiting does strange things to people.) I may wait 15 seconds before I fling the door open-he is spot on at full speed the moment I make my move. He is halfway down the drive, and already circling back to see if I am there; I assure you I am not through the door yet. We may do this a dozen times a day, or better.

The seed and nursery catalogues come in droves in January. They can furnish me with no small amount of diversion, entertainment, and serious interest, while I am waiting. I even study the descriptions of the vegetable seeds-though I grow none. Sorting through 500 tomato varieties, both heirloom and new, is better than a walk through my neighborhood. The packages are alluring, all the varieties worth pondering. I have been known to buy packets of seeds of plants I have no intention to grow. It’s enough to just look at them. A nursery on the West Coast grows espaliered lindens, and sells them large enough to plant free standing-how intriguing is this? The growers from Lake County in Ohio are many; the land there is rich and productive. Herman Losely and Sons, Bluestone Perennials, Lake County Nursery-they all grow great plants; reading their catalogues often inspires design ideas. Sunny Border Nursery-I could order a semi-truck load of rock plants and hens and chicks from them on a day like today. I have a stack of those catalogues measuring 23 inches tall. My stack of magazines, all relating to design in some way or another is probably 4 feet tall. I do not have the time to really read during the gardening season. Cote Sud, Cote Ouest, the English version of Country Living- I stack them up for the winter when I can concentrate, and cut out images I do not wish to part with. I do have a stash of magazine pages I go through on occasion, some dating back a long time. Sitting in the waiting room of the garden, all of these materials provide a little hope for the future. I winter-read, with the exception of Garden Illustrated; for this publication, I can’t wait. When it comes, I read.

I have a collection of antique seed catalogues, dating back to the turn of the century. Suttons Seeds from England, Marshall’s Seeds from New York City in 1927, Dreer’s from Philadelphia-I love the old ones. The engravings are beautiful, but more, I appreciate the earnest notes of those gardeners, caught in the stranglehold of January, favoring this variety or that. No matter where these catalogues came from, and no matter where I find them, gardeners are mumbling to themselves about what they will do once the starting gate swings open. These notes are invariably in pencil. Any note in pencil can easily be changed, updated, altered, or tuned up, right? Shall I buy one packet of 25 seeds, or are three packets, at a better price, what I really need? Wait-would this variety be better? Things are underlined; the margins are full of scribbles. Gardeners all over are writing about what seeds they will be growing, waiting for that time when they can stop writing and start growing. I would begrudgingly admit this time of year may be about waiting, but it should be about planning, and anticipation.

Wait one moment please-am I really thinking I am tired of again trying to find perennials that will mature properly short enough in front of my boxwood? Or should I move that boxwood two feet forward, and plant the taller plants of my dreams behind it? Whatever decision I make, there will be better than several winter months in which to consider that decision. No need for any ink yet. A garden is big work-this makes the planning all the more important. Taking one’s winter to plan is a sterling idea; it is even a better idea to take your eyes off the skies, and put them to use elsewhere. I would be the better for taking my own advice. Once I take the time to sort through what has been in my garden, I will be waiting for my big box of seeds, in beautifully rendered packages clearly marked 2010, to finally arrive.

Posted on: January 24, 2010 1 Comment

Filed Under: Strictly Opinion Tagged With: garden planning

A Plant Collection

The past 9 days have been a grueling blur. Once I establish a rhythm, I plant by instinct. I trust my first thought more than the thoughts that come later. I don’t really have time to second guess my decisions, so I don’t. I cannot imagine how my crews must feel. I feel certain that they needed this Sunday off. My crews have another couple of weeks before this phase of the summer’s work is done. Their work on every project we take on makes me look good. I treasure each and every one of them. One project that always grabs me by the shoulder and gives me a good shake got planted last week. My container planting for this client dates back 20 years. In the early days, there were lots of flowers. Purples, whites, and some pale pink. Boxwood edged parterres enclosed pink roses. The early container plantings were lovely. Flowery. But like any serious gardener, her taste evolved over the years. There were changes made to the landscape as well. I was always keenly interested in what she had to say about the summer plantings each spring, and challenged by how to interpret that in a way she would like. A project of such long standing and commitment from both myself and the client is a project I treasure. Every year there would be fewer flowers, and a few more green plants. Topiary plants made their appearance. Once we had topiaries, there would be winter storage and care in a greenhouse. Green plants that would visually recall an English conservatory were a favorite of hers. Ferns would figure prominently in the mix. The ferns in the above picture were wintered many times in an unheated greenhouse. They are a beautiful size and proportion for where they are placed.

The wire planters on the front porch are planted fresh every year. We redo the moss lining before we plant. This planting of white Victorian parlor ferns, broad leaved pepperomias, variegated ivy, and variegated tradescantia respects and features the detailed iron filigree of the container. The planter is a delicate foil for the mass of the Kimberly Queen fern. A side note on the Kimberlys – taking the time to pull the past year’s fronds for the new fronds coming on keeps them vigorous and fresh looking.

The back yard terrace and pool yard is home to a number of containers. Each one chosen and placed over the years. A pair of stone planter boxes that finish off a pair of seat height stone and brick walls are a feature of this terrace. This year’s planting does include white nicotiana and purple and white bicolor nicotiana, in addition to the green carex “Everest” and variegated licorice. A little color contrasts with the collection of primarily green plants.

I draw or write the schemes for most of the containers I plant on paper, or on a photograph of the planting from the previous year. But these planters, and 3 others, I lay out when I get there. After so many years, I have an idea of how many plants to take, and how many more to add so I am sure I have enough material. But it takes being there to determine how the plants will go together.

A pair of antique cast iron planters that sit on the walls got the same treatment. I know what plants I will use, but not how I will plant them until I am standing there. The placing can go fast or slow.

This year’s planting is a mix of lavender, lanai white trailing verbena, tricolor sage,the white variegated carex “Everest” and variegated licorice. The planting is fairly low and does not obstruct the far view. I recommend collecting a group of plants that you like (that share the same optimal conditions for growth) and arrange them until you get a composition you like. This approach will help to make clear if something is missing from the mix.

A majority of the containers are summer homes of a collection of topiary plants. These two boxwood topiaries have been part of the collection a good many years. The containers are large, and we do some judicious root pruning at planting time. The only way to obtain boxwood topiary of this size is to grow them yourself. Evergreens in pots can be wintered over in Michigan, but it is not easy. It is tough to get the watering right, and a fiercely cold and windy winter can damage or kill the hardiest of boxwood. No matter the size of the containers, the roots are still above ground. These boxwood are put in an unheated greenhouse space for the winter. The pot in the foreground is under planted with silver ferns. In the back, the big glossy leaves of pepperomia “Jayde” is a textural contrast to the small leaves of the boxwood.

In the foreground is a paddle leaved ficus with a braided trunk – charming. It is under planted with white flowering thyme. Another large Kimberly fern is planted in a pot that sits on top of the wall.

This ficus is a variety that is new to me, and new to this collection. No topiary plant lives for decades, so any collection has to be updated regularly. I hope we can manage to keep this one happy for a while. That won’t be simple. A tropical plant grows at a much faster rate than a boxwood. There will come a time when it no longer fits this container, or it becomes overgrown in an unattractive way.

The opposite corner has another new topiary – a lemon tree. We under planted it with parsley. The boxwood topiary is under planted with tibouchina, which will bloom with large blue/purple flowers if the season is long and hot enough. If not the felted green leaves are beautiful.

Closer to the boxwood hedge which encloses the fountain is a collection of pots clustered around an antique English double sided bench. The footed pots had for many years been home to a pair of variegated boxwood that finally succumbed. In their place this year, Chicago figs, and crinkle leaf pepperomias.

Four steel boxes from Branch anchor the north and south side of the terrace. I always plant all four with white mandevillea, although the under planting may change. At the four corners of the boxwood rectangle, 4 English made wood boxes. They are planted this year with spikes (the most underrated of all the green container plants), white XXL dahlias, sky blue and white petunias, and variegated licorice. This is a traditional and formal container planting that is appropriate for the place.

The new plant in the steel containers is not blooming yet. Felicia amelloides, or blue daisy bush, will provide a small touch of color.

This is the third year for the Duranta on standard. They do not lend themselves to formal pruning, which is good. They have a graceful if irregular natural shape.

Limelight hydrangea on standard, fig, and eugenia topiary

The far left pot has a 1 gallon size black and blue salvia which is under planted with a dwarf nicotiana. The topiaries (not yet pruned for the season) include a eugenia, a pair of white lantana, an old rosemary, and at the last, a scented geranium on standard.