10 things I love about the garden

Please bear in mind that this is by no means a complete list. But here are 10 things I'm thinking about in anticipation of the growing season. In no particular order of importance:

1. The chance to experiment with lilies like this beauty we bought at a sale at the Chicago Botanic Gardens.

 

2. Cold drinks in the "cocktail lounge."

3. Bodacious clumps of daffodils behind ferns.

4. Frogs in the pond.

5. Brian cooking Thai green beans with pork in the garden.

Garden tour inspiration

Kathy

It's a day for looking ahead and looking back. Despite the cold that reaches deep into the bone, I'm thinking about spring and how the garden will evolve this year. For inspiration, I'm recalling the Secret Garden Tour hosted by the Lake County Master Gardeners last July. My favorite garden on the tour was the first one, a typically-sized backyard in town that was anything but typical. Kathy, our host, showed off a yard with minimal lawn and wide, raised beds. But what was really charming were the bits and pieces of old bedsprings, mailboxes and other "found sculpture." Kathy has a good eye for adding surprise without going overboard.  

 Squash grows out of this heavy metal cauldron that also would be suitable for a witch's brew.

Spring in Winter

 The path from the lower parking lot to the display gardens and greenhouses.

I love how one of my favorite places to visit in spring is named Winter.

After months of cold and snow, it seems crazy that I'd look forward to visiting a place with that chilly moniker. But I always do. And the visit to Winter Greenhouse in Wisconsin never disappoints.

The folks there don't just offer plants for sale; they show them off in their display gardens. And how!

The sunny garden includes a pond.

A view of the sunny garden from the other direction, from under the crab apple.

The woodland garden was made possible by thinning trees and laying mulch-covered paths.

 

A bounty of plants -- including hosta, trillium, lungwort, ferns, lamium and spring bulbs such as daffodils and tulips -- fill the woodland garden.

Perfect little worlds

 Two cottages are surrounded by plants with tiny leaves and delicate demeanor that mimic a full-size landscape.

The idea of creating a miniature landscape or fairy garden never much appealed to me. It always seemed a tad too precious, too cute, too cluttered with ornamentation. But, after a visit to Winter Greenhouse in Wisconsin, I may become a convert.

The scene in one of the plant-filled greenhouses stopped me in my tracks. The display of two cottages and the surrounding landscape was nothing short of charming. The cottages looked as if they had been plucked from the pages of a fairy tale. Thyme and baby's tears became lawn; sedums and succulents and sempervivens became shrubs and trees; accessories were tasteful and not overdone. The plants, and the creative way in which they were employed, carried the day.

Winter Greenhouse has a web site devoted to its new venture in miniature landscaping -- it has inspiration and, of course, plants and products for sale. There's also advice on how to create your own landscape. Be advised, these are not no-maintenance projects. Like any landscape, they require upkeep to keep them looking good.

Muehlenbeckia complexa is trained onto the mini arbor.

The Underfoot Cottage has a sweet windowbox. Slender chives stand in for a tall hedge by the fence. And yes, that's a rock waterfall at left.

Thyme forms the upper lawn at the Mustardseed Cottage, and I think that's a jade tree near the bridge. Note the tire swing at the back of the house on the left.

A round bench surrounds a dwarf euonymus; pink hypoestes contrasts with the many shades of green. Delicate purple alyssum forms a hedge at left.

It's not just about the plants ... or the sculpture

 This is Henry Moore's "Oval with Points."

We encountered a bit of serendipity last summer when we visited the Denver Botanic Gardens. It just happened that the public garden was hosting "Moore in the Gardens," an exhibition of the sculpture of Henry Moore, when we were there in August. Talk about a two-fer -- we went there to see the plants and got to see amazing sculpture, too.

Apparently, we weren't the only ones who were impressed. Westword recently named the "Moore in the Gardens" event the best sculpture show in Denver.

I love visiting public gardens whether or not there are important art pieces there. Public gardens provide a major dose of inspiration. Even though the ideas may be on a grand scale, they often can be adapted for smaller, home gardens. And this visit was no exception.

March (moon) madness

Spectacular moonrise Friday evening. Lovely reflections on the driveway glacier. The silly dog alerted the neighborhood.

Memory aid

I live in a land of dramatic contrasts. In January, it's good to remember that July will come. A snapshot tucked into a Christmas card from my sister is a quick and easy reference to what last July looked like in roughly the same area of the garden.

From here to there

In April 2010 ...

Sometimes you have to look back to see where you were and what you've accomplished to appreciate where you are. A new year is a good time to review how quickly change can happen. You can see some of those changes at Sillydoggarden in 2010 here.

... and in September 2010.

Colorado dreaming

It may be called a children's garden but this scene at the Gardens on Spring Creek captivates adults as well. Love the painted pots as heads on the scarecrows.

If I still lived in northern Colorado, I'd be heading over to the Gardens on Spring Creek in Fort Collins to get tickets to a presentation by Lauren Springer Ogden, author of "The Undaunted Garden: Planting for Weather-Resilient Beauty." (She also is the namesake of 'Lauren's Grape' poppy. The stunning single purple flower first popped up in her garden.)

My copy at home.

"Undaunted Garden" recently has been revised and updated -- I have a copy of the first edition and it is one of my go-to books for inspiration. How can you not appreciate an author who talks about surveying a garden pummeled by hail after a few stiff drinks? (Substitute deer damage for hail damage and you'll see what I mean.)

The presentation on Jan. 22 is a fundraiser for the Gardens on Spring Creek, which, thanks to friends Kevin and Mary, we visited last August. It's still very much a work in progress, but I was impressed with things so far. Its 18 acres include a Children's Garden, Entry Garden, and the Lauren Springer Odgen Garden. The Garden of Eatin' has a spiffy outdoor kitchen for cooking classes.

I've never had the chance to hear Springer Odgen speak, but if her talks are anything like her book, it would be well worth it. If you're in the area, go. And then let me know what you think.

Giant watering cans mark the entrance to the Children's Garden.

Espaliered apple trees screen part of the outdoor kitchen.

The pavilion's green roof sports a variety of plants.

I want some of this. It may be marginally hardy here, but I think it's worth a try.

Where else would I be?

The purple in the foreground is penstemon, the red is Maltese Cross. The purple in back is Baptisia australis.  The spiky foliage up front is blue oat grass (Helictotrichon sempervirens).

 

Normally, I wouldn't recommend mixing purple and red like this, but for some reason I find this particular combination appealing. The red Maltese Cross (Lychnis chalcedonica) has moved itself about the bed, situating itself wherever it feels most comfortable -- this year that's pretty much in the middle of a stand of phlox (not yet in bloom) right next to purple penstemon (not sure of the variety). The plants seem to have made their peace with each other in a loud, semi-obnoxious sort of way. It's not co-existence for the faint of heart, but they do manage to get along nonetheless. Surprise, diversity and tolerance all grow here.

A boatload of blooms like these and a couple of days of summer sunshine and I'm reminded of a conversation several Julys ago with a former colleague. I had just returned to work from a week's vacation and John was asking me what I did with my time off. I stayed home, I told him, and did odds and ends around the house and garden. You know, I said, this time of year there's really no place else I'd rather be.

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I was struck by how true they were. When had that happened? When had my roots gotten so deep?

Rainy morning reading

Washington Post garden Adrian Higgins has an interesting profile of garden designers Joe Eck and Wayne Winterrowd of North Hill garden in Vermont. I've been a fan of these guys for a while and it was fun to check out the photo gallery of North Hill.

Two really good takeaways from the online chat:

1. Use a votive candle softened in the sun to plug the drainage hole in large clay pots that you want to use for water gardens. Add some mud at the bottom and plant. I've always used the clay/ceramic pots as cachepots for my water plants that are planted in ugly plastic pots. It's still a good system because it makes it easy to bring in the plants for the winter. But I'm intrigued by the candle idea and may have to give it a try next year.

2. Winterrowd and Eck say Seneca Hills Rare Plant Nursery owned by Ellen Hornig is the new Heronswood. High praise, and the online catalog is definitely worth a look.

Pen and trowel

Janna Goerdt built two plastic-covered houses for growing vegetables for selling at farmers markets. The houses aren't fancy, but they have everything she needs for growing. She amended the soil under cover with horse manure.

Food writer Tom Wilkowske reports on duluthdish.com that Janna Goerdt, market gardener and former DNT reporter, has agreed to do some writing for the Northern Minnesota foodie web site.

Janna left the newspaper business recently to devote her energy toward Fat Chicken Farm near Embarrass. She's growing edibles such as heirloom tomatoes, lettuce, sweet potatoes, basil and squash in the two hoop houses she built last spring. When I visited in mid-June the tomato seedlings were just starting to rev up and the basil was tiny. The plants apparently liked their new digs because as of last week, Janna says, "the hoop houses are like jungles, the tomatoes and cucumbers are taking over and I have to LEAP over and around foliage to get from one end to the other."

Sounds divine!

I'm all for supporting farmers like Janna (you can find her at farmers markets in Ely and Virginia) or growing your own if possible. I like being able to pluck lettuce for tonight's salad from my back yard or buying a few tomatoes from the farmer who actually grew and harvested them or purchasing eggs from the folks up the road who have a henhouse of Black Star chickens.

But I hadn't really thought much about the connections between my home garden, Janna's venture and other agricultural pursuits. In the New York Times, Dan Barber, a chef and co-owner of Blue Hill at Stone Barns, shares some thoughts on the food web in light of the late blight that has decimated the tomato crop in the Northeast. Here's a taste of what he says:

"There’s another lesson here for the home gardener. When you start a garden, no matter how small, you become part of an agricultural network that binds you to other farmers and gardeners. Airborne late blight spores are a perfect illustration of agriculture’s web-like connections. The tomato plant on the windowsill, the backyard garden and the industrial tomato farm are, to be a bit reductive about it, one very large farm. As we begin to grow more of our own food, we need to reacquaint ourselves with plant pathology and understand that what we grow, and how we grow it, affects everyone else. (Potato farmers in the Andes, for example, plant disease-prone varieties at high altitudes where the cold keeps pathogens in check — to protect themselves and their neighbors. They don’t get as big a harvest, but they decrease the risk of an epidemic.)"

If you want to know more about late blight (Phytophthora, the same fungus responsible for the Irish potato famine), read this post from Leslie Land's blog. Wow!

Janna gives some individual attention to a few plants on a warm day in June; she's also installed a drip/weeping irrigation system.

Chilling out

It may have been the best 15 minutes of the day:

Early evening, warming up after a cool, gray day. Sitting on a bench that Brian built. The bench resting on the brick-paver terrace (probably too grand a term for this landing spot, but I like the sound of it) that we laid some years back. Surrounded by some of my favorite plants -- rosemary, heliotrope, scented geraniums, chocolate cosmos, night phlox and 'Painted Lady' sweet peas on a trellis I made from bamboo and willow prunings on a Sunday afternoon in May. A cold mojito in hand, made with mint plucked minutes earlier from the garden. Watching the hummingbirds work over the bee balm (just outside the view in this photo). Listening to their wings whirring in harmony with some bees buzzing around the allium.

Any nagging doubts, fears and frustrations held at bay.

All the cool kids are growing their own ...

... food. And this summer the New York Botanical Garden is celebrating edibles in the garden. Just take a look at how the NYBG is elevating such garden staples as squash, tomatoes and corn by showcasing them in containers.

Pots of tomatoes, peppers, corn, squash and other vegetables line the waterlily pool at the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory at the NYBG.

Corn is underplanted with cherry tomatoes at the NYBG.

It seems like I've been growing vegetables and herbs in pots for ages, albeit on a much less grand scale than the NYBG. I love having tomatoes nearby so I can brush up against the fragrant foliage (if someone could bottle the scent of tomato foliage I'd buy it by the boatload); having mint in a pot on the deck makes it easy to add a sprig to my iced tea; and eggplants are just pretty plants. Period. Whether or not we actually get any eggplants. And I always have at least one big pot of flat-leaf parsley on the deck out of reach of the deer.

Growing veggies and herbs in pots is easy. I use mostly recycled black nursery containers -- it helps unify the look on a deck or patio -- and potting mix that we buy by the bale. Find a sunny location. Pay attention to water -- the pots often will need to be watered every day depending on the weather. I use a liquid fertilizer about once a week. I also like to mix in a few flowers, often planting lobelia or alyssum as a ruffle around the edge of the pot.

Here's a grouping of a tomato, parsley, mint and two eggplants underplanted with lobelia. The mint winters over and everything else we grew from seed sowed in the house this spring.

A feast for the eyes

The formal garden at a home in New York is set up for
a late afternoon wedding ceremony.

In summer, there's no place I'd rather be than at home in the garden. Yes, even with the weeds, the slugs and the deer damage, I still prefer hanging out among the ornamentals and the edibles in my little corner of the planet. Especially if there's a cold beer or an icy mojito nearby. But when travel is on the agenda, it's nice that some garden touring is included. And this summer I couldn't have asked for more. I had the pleasure of seeing two lovely private gardens as well as getting my first look at Battery Park, Central Park and the New York Botanical Garden. I returned home inspired -- and with a severe case of tree envy.

The formal garden where the bride and groom exchanged vows was among the most beautiful I've ever seen. It was sophisticated, yet welcoming. Classy, yet charming. Serene, but with a sense of humor. What I really loved, besides that gorgeous fountain and pond, was the choice of plants. Many were familiar -- lamb's ear, woolly thyme, baptisia, allium -- and they all contributed to the sense of joy so appropriate to the day. Here's some of what inspired me:

1. It bears repeating: the use of familiar plants that are readily available. It's not always about the exotic or the rare (although that's nice, too); sometimes it's about "ordinary plants" used in extraordinary ways. For example, that narrow border of lamb's ears around the pool -- very cool.

2. Hardscape matters. OK, most of us don't have the space or resources to make a garden like this. But attention to paths and the use of stone, gravel or other paving material pays big dividends. The gray tones of the walkways and urns complement the whites, silvers and blues in the plants.

3. Focal points and sight lines. I'll never have a fountain like that egret, but I can pay attention to where I place trellises and decorative items. While details are critical, it's important to remember to see the big picture, too. Where does the eye go? What do I want to emphasize and showcase?

4. Neatness counts. Everything was trimmed, deadheaded and in its place. A testament to well-organized nature.

The fountain is a jaw-dropper. The musicians prepare for the ceremony under one of the rose arbors.

Stone pillars with pineapple finials mark the garden entrance.

Guests gather just inside the garden. Robust plantings soften the garden's geometry.

The garden-maker also has a sense of humor. The gnome, hidden from view until you leave the garden, keeps watch.