A Year In The Garden

Top Ten

2012-01-02T16:26:00.000-08:00

At a recent holiday party a fellow reveler inquired as to my favorite plant. I'm often asked this question when I mention that I'm a landscape designer and have yet to come up with a satisfactory answer. In truth I don't have a "favorite" plant. There are, however, certain cultivars that I consider indispensable. After giving the matter some thought, I've narrowed my selection to ten garden plants that I wouldn't be without and have listed them below. Although most flourish in full sun, a few are shade plants and all are hardy in zone 5. Of course, as with any Top Ten list, many terrific plants didn't make the cut. Perhaps, like the ubiquitous award shows that clutter the television listings this time of year, I will have to make my list of INDISPENSABLE GARDEN PLANTS an annual endeavor (no pun intended).

1) Nepeta Walkers Low

Nepetas are a wonderful group of garden plants and the variety, Walkers Low, blooms for most of the summer with the heaviest display during peony season. It makes a wonderful informal edging plant or front of the sunny border perennial. It seems to have no pest issues and isn't bothered by snails, rabbits or deer. I regularly use it as a substitute for lavender where that often fussy plant fails to thrive.

2) Alchemilla Mollis (Ladies Mantle)

This tried and true perennial flowers in full sun and all but the deepest shade. Its masses of foamy chartreuse flowers compliment almost any color, but look particularly lovely with pastels. Its leaves are a pleasing shade of green and their scalloped edges catch the early morning dew. I cut off the dead flower stems in late July, a time consuming task, but well worth the effort, as it encourages a flush of new foliage and new flowers.

3) Buddleia Pink Delight

Buddleias comprise a terrific group of predominantly summer flowering shrubs with blooms that come in a range of colors including purple, blue, white, yellow and even bi-colors. In my garden the bushes bloom from mid-July until frost although the panicles of flowers decrease in size as the season progresses. The plants can become rangy and benefit from a hard pruning in late spring. Following last winter's heavy snowfall many of my older bushes were badly damaged and required severe pruning. But even after being cut almost to the ground, they rebounded quickly and bloomed heavily over the summer.

4) Stachys Helen Von Stein

This sun-loving, low, spreading perennial is wonderful planted en masse or as a broad edging. The leaves are much larger than the straight species and it is more tolerant of humidity, though occasionally it is necessary to pluck off foliage that has turned to mush during the dog days of late summer. The furry, silver foliage is a wonderful foil for more colorful plants and begs to be touched. For that reason I often plant it along the top of sitting walls, where visitors can easily run their fingers through the velvety foliage.

5) Pennisetum Maudry

There are many terrific grasses available today and this is one of my favorites. Like all of its relatives it thrives in hot sun and tolerates drought. At 2-3' tall it creates a substantial presence in the landscape and isn't bothered by pests. The seed heads, which appear in early autumn are larger than the species and are a lovely burgundy color.

6) Anthyrium Niponicum Pictum (Painted Fern)

This is a fabulous foliage plant for full to part shade. Despite its delicate appearance it is actually quite tough and even self-seeds a bit (or whatever it is that ferns due to procreate). As with all ferns it isn't bothered by deer or rabbits although I have had a few issues with snails. As the fronds are late to unfurl, it is wonderful underplanted with spring bulbs.

7) Fairy Rose

Most people associate roses with fussy shrubs that are plagued by insect pests and a host of diseases. While there are many new shrub roses available today that refute those assumptions, this old time cultivar is still one of my favorites. The flowers, which are produced in waves from late spring until frost, are a delightful pale pink and the bush is a nice manageable size. A little pruning early in the season is all that's required to keep the plants tidy. Try pairing it with Alchemilla, Stachys and Nepeta for a terrific combination.

8) Kerria Japonica Pleniflora

In my estimation this overlooked shrub deserves more attention. The double yellow flowers are delightful in the spring and continue sporadically throughout the summer. Although it loses its leaves in the fall, the stems remain green throughout the winter and are lovely in the snow. It seems to thrive in full sun or part shade and spreads by underground suckers that will eventually create a dense almost impenetrable thicket. At five to six feet in height it's a wonderful addition to the shrub border or woodland garden.

9) Hydrangea Annabelle

I first came across this hydrangea while living in Vermont where, unlike many hydrangea varieties, this old fashioned cultivar flowered with great abandon. Perfect for woodland gardens or the shady side of a house, it produces large flower heads that turn from green to white and back to green again. I love it as a cut flower and the older green blossoms dry well. Incrediball, an improved variety, recently appeared on the market and I am giving that a try as well. This past fall I planted thirty beneath the crabapple trees that line my driveway.

10) Geranium Rozanne

While new plants arrive on the market every year, few live up to their hype. This perennial geranium is an exception and since it appeared five or so years ago, it has quickly become indispensable in my design work. In sun or shade it is covered with flowers from late spring until frost. I use it as a ground cover, as an edging, in pots, in rock gardens and in the front the perennial border. It is wonderful planted at the base of leggier plants and will even twine itself up their stems. Unfortunately deer seem to like munching on its leaves, but that appears to be its only downside. My only fear is that soon it will be used in mall parking lots and other municipal plantings making it as common as the severely overexposed Stella D'oro Daylily.

So there you have it. Ten plants that I highly recommend. I hope you try at least a few of them in your garden this spring.

Happy New Year!

Self Awareness

2011-09-29T14:09:00.000-07:00

Certain annual and perennial plants exhibit a wonderful propensity for self-seeding. A number of years ago I purchased a six pack of the annual Nicotiana Sylvestris Alata, the tall white flower blooming beside the archway pictured above. Although the fragrant plants are not hardy they produce an abundance of seed, which in my garden usually begins to germinate by the middle of the summer.In early autumn these self-sown volunteers produce a dramatic display that perfumes the air.

Left to their own devices many common annuals and perennials will self-seed. Eupatorium Coelestinum, the ageratum look-alike growing beside my rectangular lily pond, is a wonderful late-season perennial that spreads itself throughout the garden with great abandon. The plants are very slow to break dormancy. I rarely see their first leaves before the fourth of July, but by late August they're happily filling holes left by early bloomers that have passed their prime. Other plants that regularly self-seed in my garden include;

Columbines (these were a gift from a friend who had seedlings to spare)

Digitalis Ambigua

Verbena Bonariensis

And the tall pink Cleome pictured below.

Although many plants will self-seed without any assistance, there are ways to encourage a steady supply of seedlings. With Nicotiana and Digitalis I allow the seed heads to mature until first frost. In late autumn I cut the stems and shake the seeds onto bare soil. As with weed, mulch can inhibit the germination of desirable plants. Therefore it is important to leave the loam uncovered. With other varieties like Verbena Bonariensis and Cleome, I often leave old flowering stems standing in the garden until early spring to ensure that the seeds have ripened sufficiently.

While many species will self-seed successfully without any assistance, there are two tricks for ensuring a bountiful crop of seedlings. First, do not disturb the soil with a claw or other weeding tool until the seeds have sprouted. Second,avoid mistakenly weeding out young seedlings by learning to identify their first pair of leaves. These "seed" leaves often don't resemble the plant's mature foliage. If too many seeds germinate in one spot, it is best to thin them out to avoid competition. It is easy to transplant young seedlings to a more desirable area, though a bit of coddling for a day or two maybe required.

Encouraging plants to self-seed is a wonderfully inexpensive way to increase stock. While some plants may prove overly prolific, unexpected additions often add charm to the garden. A few years ago a crop of Digitalis Ambigua grew up along my front walkway and the effect was absolutely lovely.

You may even discover a seedling with hybrid vigor or unusual colors as was the case with the Japanese iris seedling that appeared in my Blue and White garden last year. Its white flowers veined with blue stripes are unlike any other iris I've purchased.

Good Night Irene

2011-08-26T11:37:00.000-07:00

This is normally the beginning of my favorite time of the year. After weeks of heat and humidity the waning days of August bring cooler weather and once again it's a pleasure to work in the garden. Although the leaves have lost their freshness, the flowers sparkle in the late summer sunlight and then of course there are the dahlias.

And armloads of flowers for arrangements. I gave this one to friend for her birthday.

But now with hurricane Irene poised to strike New England, it seems that my thirteenth year cultivating this property may prove to be particularly unlucky. Of course I'm still hopeful that Irene's path will change. Nevertheless before the storm arrives, I thought I would take a few moments to document the garden as it looks today.

The yellow flowers blooming around the pond are Ligularia Desdemona, prized for it's burgundy foliage and bountiful late-summer blossoms.

I love Hibiscus Fantasia's enormous mauve blooms. In the spring I pinch the stems to encourage an even more abundant flowering. Unlike their tropical cousins, all of the perennial Hibiscus die to to the ground each winter. Exhibiting a shrub-like presence, the plants blossoms come in colors ranging from white to pink to red. Some have copper colored foliage and all make terrific garden plants unmatched for late summer impact.

Although I had to replace a number of the thyme plants with new divisions this spring, the checkerboard patio, a favorite with all my visitors, has filled in quite nicely this year. In fact I can't remember a time when it was this uniform.

Due to the impact of the tree-form Hydrangeas Paniculata and Tardiva, the Blue and White garden is perhaps a bit heavy on the white this time of year.

Although I'm particularly fond of the white water lilies, I wish there was a hardy blue variety that I could add to the pond. Unfortunately, all of the blue water lilies are tropical and won't survive New England's cold winters.

I've always thought that if in my old age I have to scale back on the gardening, I will keep the front garden because it's both self-contained and a manageable size.

So there you have it, the garden pre-Irene. Hopefully it will look much the same post-Irene, but one never knows.

On a lighter note, last month my dear friend, client and unfailing supporter, Dr. Patricia Allen,stopped in for a visit. She and her friend, Stacey Bewkes, were en route from NYC to Little Compton. Stacey, who writes the wonderful daily style blog, Quintenssence, recently posted a charming account of her visit to my property on her blog, http://quintessenceblog.com/2011/08/country-charm-in-the-garden/

And the pool garden that I featured in my last post is filling in quite nicely.

But now it's time to batten down the hatches and hope that Irene drifts farther out to sea.

POOL PARTY

2011-07-30T06:35:00.000-07:00

Some of you may recall that more than a year ago I embarked on an extensive swimming pool project for a client in Wilton, CT. The house, which overlooks a reservoir,was built on a steep slope.

Accommodating the pool, spa, cabana, fireplace and patios required moving the existing leach field and terracing the hill. By placing a four foot high stone wall below the swimming pool patio I sidestepped the town's fence requirements and preserved an unobstructed view of the reservoir.

To minimize the need for additional walls I set large boulders into the slope to create a rockery.

The garden is planted with broad swaths of roses, nepeta, grasses, hydrangeas and other low maintenance summer blooming shrubs and perennials. In a few years the plantings will soften the hardscaping and create a lush, billowy effect.

The spa, which can be used year around, was purposely sited below the upper patio close to the house for easy access during the winter.

Although the installation of my design was delayed by town bureaucracy and red tape, construction was finally completed in June. To celebrate my client hosted a wonderful pool party at the beginning of July.

On the home front the gardens here in Seekonk are settling into the dog days of summer. Phlox, oriental lilies and hydrangeas predominate and the rose of sharons are in full bloom.

I've been spending a good deal of time dead-heading and weeding.

The Japanese beetles appeared right on schedule but haven't been terribly destructive so far.

I'm still waging a losing battle against snails. But after a conversation with a friend, whose garden had been mowed to the ground by rabbits, I decided to count my blessings.

After all, snails are easy to catch. And while It's true that their constant feeding disfigures leaves and flowers, it rarely results in mortality.

I'm thrilled with the mottled leafed Colocasia Mojito that I planted by the pond to replace the ornamental rhubarb that mysteriously died. Colocasia's enormous tropical leaves are quite dramatic and plan to dig up the tubers in the fall. Hopefully they'll winter over along with my dahlias in the crawl space below my office.

Although I'm fond of Campsis Radicans' orange and yellow trumpets, I'm growing tired of pulling up the countless seedlings that sprout all over the garden. Still, the hummingbirds would never forgive me if I tore the vines out.

With the onset of summer weather the hot colored garden is really heating up.

Meanwhile the Blue and White garden is cooling down.

I've decided that dusk is my favorite time to view the garden. The shadows mask
the imperfections; the brown leaves, the spent flowers, the crab grass, the stems that need staking, the bare spots that need filling. When the sun has set it's easier to enjoy the big picture and the sweet fragrances that perfume the air.

Tour de Force

2011-06-22T15:41:00.000-07:00

On Saturday June 18th I opened my garden in Seekonk to the public. The tour was part of the Garden Conservancy's Open Days Program. GC's Open Days take place rain or shine and I had been checking the forecast somewhat obsessively for at least a week prior to the big event. Showers drenched the garden on friday, but luckily I had mowed the lawn and finished the majority of my last minute preparations on thursday. On friday night, however, I lay in bed listening to a torrential rainstorm and wondered if my weeks of anticipation had all been for naught.

I awoke at the crack of dawn to a gray sky. Although some of my more fragile roses had shed their petals overnight,the garden didn't seem much worse for wear. By nine o'clock the haze had cleared and the remainder of the day proved to be sunny and warm,perfect weather for a garden tour.

Pruners in hand I spent the early morning hours trimming spent blossoms and marred leaves. As I worked I eyed all of the flowers that had yet to open and couldn't help wishing that the tour had been scheduled for the following week.

Shrugging off a nagging sense of regret, I reminded myself that the success of a garden depends primarily on its "bones". The flowers are merely the icing on the cake. And while an abundance of blossoms may distract the viewer from errors in structure or proportion, petals alone will not a beautiful garden make.

The first guests arrived just before the official ten o'clock opening and over the course of the day I greeted more than one hundred and thirty people. Without exception all of the visitors were gracious and enthusiastic. And to my surprise, by late afternoon not a single stem had been trampled.

I noted with some amusement that a few of my guests were as captivated by my chickens as they were by the gardens. I acquired the birds at the Swansea Farm Auction, a somewhat anachronistic event that takes place each week in the neighboring town. I had hoped that the chickens would feast on the plague-like multitude of snails that continue to ravage my plants and with great determination I outbid my competitors for my little flock. Not surprisingly my choices were a function of aesthetics. Alas, as with many pretty things, my chickens haven't proved to be very functional. They don't lay many eggs or eat many snails, but they are fun to watch.

Spending the day in the sun greeting guests and answering questions was more tiring than I had expected. Nevertheless when the last of the late arrivals departed at six o'clock, I mentioned to a friend that the weeks of preparation had been well worth the effort. When she asked me what I planned to do the next day I replied in all seriousness "Well, I won't be working in the garden, that's for sure!"

Swamped

2011-05-21T06:38:00.000-07:00

Last fall I consulted with an English couple who had recently relocated from Dubai to Scituate Massachusetts. Although Scituate is a coastal town, their home was not located on the waterfront. The previous owner, however, had excavated a large pond in a naturally wet area at the back edge of their sizable property. Dramatically sited against a rock out cropping, at one time a waterfall had tumbled down the face of the ledge into the first of a pair of connected pools.

When I arrived at the site, however, the waterfall was no longer working and the pond was surrounded by nothing but lawn, brambles, and a tangle of weedy vegetation. My clients were eager to restore the waterfall

and I suggested that we frame the pond with a broad expanse of moisture loving ornamentals.

By their very nature projects like this often require an element of improvisation. When we broke ground this spring the area that I had mapped out for the garden was much wetter than I had expected, making excavation and soil preparation quite difficult. Luckily I had hired Mike Downing of Downing Northeast , a talented can-do contractor with whom I had worked on a number of other occasions. We decided to install a visually appealing rock-lined stream bed to concentrate the water in what had once been a natural run off.

Much of the existing soil was heavy clay, whIch I amended with more than sixty yards of compost. Clay is nutrient rich, but difficult for most roots to penetrate. Adding large quantities of organic matter helped to break up the clay thereby creating a better growing medium. In the process of preparing the beds we moved a number of large boulders and reset them along the water's edge, further integrating the pond with the rock outcropping. In keeping with the naturalistic feel of the site I planted the new beds with large groups of moisture loving shrubs including Summersweet (Clethra Alnifolia), Swamp Azalea (Azalea Viscosum), American Winterberry (Ilex Verticillata), Cornus Ivory Halo (a dwarf variegated red-twig dogwood) and High Bush Cranberry (Viburnum Trilobum). I also included broad sweeps of ferns, hostas, astilbes, Japanese irises and other perennials. In the drier areas I installed masses of hydrangeas and potentillas. It may take a few years, but I'm confident that the new plantings will create a lush frame for the pond, much like farm pond at my house albeit at a much larger scale.

Meanwhile, here in Seekonk the vanilla scented Clematis Montana Rubens that I'm training over the roof is in full bloom

and the white azaleas are in putting on quite a show.

Ahhh Spring :-)

A Bit Daffy

2011-04-25T11:57:00.000-07:00

With April's eponymous showers providing consistent moisture the gardens here in Seekonk seem to be growing overnight. It's been a particularly banner year for daffodils and the cool temperatures and gentle rain have kept the abundant blossoms from fading. For the past decade I've planted hundreds of new bulbs each fall and this year the resulting display has been exuberant to say the least.

In the front garden I've concentrated on primarily pink-cupped narcissus. Years ago the variety, Salome, was the premier cultivar in this new trend. Its flowers,however, were actually a yellowish-apricot. But more recent selections like Accent, which I planted in the bed bordering the lawn, produce flowers with trumpets that are more truly pink.

In the Hot Colored garden I've selected predominantly yellow and orange cultivars.

And of course in the Blue and White garden I've chosen exclusively white varieties.

That color scheme, however, has been compromised by a miss-labeled shipment of bulbs that I planted a few years ago. Uncharacteristically I haven't had the heart to rip them out yet.

Further muddying my palette are clusters of an old fashioned double yellow variety that randomly appear without regard for my strict artistic sensibilities. Most these end up in vases in my house.

In fact for the past month I've been cutting armloads of daffodils without putting much of dent in the outdoor display.

On rainy days It's a real luxury to have flowers from the garden on my kitchen table. It's a luxury, which I like to share. I gave the arrangement pictured below to a friend as a housewarming gift.

The only drawback to planting so many daffodils is the resulting mass of strap-like foliage, which must be allowed to ripen. Unfortunately, to ensure that the bulbs will flower next spring the leaves cannot be removed until they have turned brown. While I try to mask the dying vegetation with perennials, a brief but unsightly phase is almost unavoidable.

But then I guess every rose has its thorns.

Let The Games Begin.

2011-03-23T12:29:00.000-07:00

The leaves are raked, the roses pruned and the beds freshly edged. The first blossoms of my crocuses are already summoning bees from their hives and the garden seems full of promise. Despite the the landscape's muted palette, the tans and browns possess a contemplative charm that is not without beauty. The lack of vegetation draws the eye to the emerging shoots and the diminutive spring flowers that herald the start of the season.

Emerging from the frozen earth the snowdrops

and the sight of the first hellebore blossoms are in some ways more exciting than June's prolific abundance.

It is at this time of year that the curves and angles of the landscape are most readily observed. Proportions, whether of beds, lawn or structures, impact a design's success and I am reminded that the new arches, which I installed last fall, are too tall and must be lowered before the growing season begins in earnest.

For the past several months the Northeast has been buried beneath record snowfalls. And while the branches of some woody ornamentals succumbed to its weight,the winter-long covering insulated my dormant perennials from frigid temperatures and bitter winds. While cleaning the beds I was relived to find that most everything seems to have weathered the cold. The only notable but unsurprising exception were the tea roses that I purchased from a box store last year. In expectation of their demise I ordered more from Edmund's roses in January and it seems that my cat, Briar, is impatiently awaiting their arrival.

With all my early chores completed ahead of schedule and the gardens looking neat and orderly I am ready for the games to begin. After all what is spring if not the most optimistic of seasons.

Open for Business

2011-02-03T14:12:00.000-08:00

Last fall I sent a few pictures of my property to the Garden Conservancy. The Conservancy is a national organization dedicated to the preservation and restoration of important gardens across the country. As with all non-profits they rely primarily on the generosity of individual donors. They also raise money through their lecture series and the Open Days program, which gives the general public a chance to tour private gardens of note. To date more than 2,500 properties throughout the country have been presented and I was thrilled to be selected for their 2011 season. I was even more flattered to find that they had chosen a picture of my garden for the cover of the Open Days Directory. The directory lists the gardens that can be viewed by visitors this year along with dates, descriptions and directions. If you enjoy visiting gorgeous gardens as much as I do, you might want to order a copy, www.gardenconservancy.org. Of course, if you happen to be in my neighborhood, I hope to see you here on June 18th.

As my pal, Puck, can attest, this winter has turned into quite a snow-fest. I haven't glimpsed even a patch of bare ground for weeks now and more of the white stuff is on the way. While a thick blanket of snow provides wonderful insulation for dormant plants,the sheer quantities of icy precipitation have damaged many of my woody ornamentals. Though I regularly shake the snowflakes from their needles, the columnar yews are no longer standing straight and tall and will require some intensive staking. Snapping under the weight of the last deluge, most of my butterfly bushes have been reduced to a tangle of broken branches. Hopefully they'll sprout from the roots in the spring once I give them a good pruning. Saddened by winter's ravages, I have turned to my garden catalogues for solace.

This week, in an effort to lift my spirits,I placed an order with Edmunds' Roses, edmundsroses.com. I haven't used their catalogue before but I found its descriptions to be informative with regard to both the pros and the cons of their various offerings. Edmunds' is based in Wisconsin, which bodes well for the hardiness of their stock, and I'm hopeful that I'll be pleased by its quality. In addition to a number of tempting hybrid teas, I ordered four Eden roses,a beautiful climber pictured above. I credit my friend, Baruch Kirschenbaum, for bringing this wonderful bush to my attention. A number of years ago he gave one to my mother and I've coveted it ever since. This spring I'll plant the teas in my rose and dahlia cutting garden and the Edens on the archway that marks it's entrance.

I also ordered the Dahlia, Otto's Thrill, as well as two different gladiolus from Dutch Gardens, DutchGardens.com . Despite their reputation for being rigid and funereal, I like gladiolus in the garden. As with tulips and daffodils, I always plant single varieties in groups of eight or more. Clustering the bulbs helps counteract the plant's innate stiffness. I think the one pictured below will be particularly striking in my hot colored garden.

And this pink variety should be lovely in the front cottage garden, where I'll use it in the summer to fill a hole left by a species of late-flowering narcissus.

I can hardly wait for spring!

Happy New Year

2010-12-29T07:05:00.000-08:00

As the new year approaches the gardens here in Seekonk are nestled under a blanket of snow. Just days before the "Blizzard of 2010" my fence contractor installed the three wooden arches that now mark the entrances to the front garden pictured above. The ensuing snow fall has brought all outdoor labor to a standstill. In truth after spending much of November and early December planting bulbs and preparing the beds for winter, I welcome this well deserved respite from garden chores. Things left undone will simply have to wait for a thaw. In a month or so I'm sure I'll find myself impatiently awaiting the first signs of spring. For now, however, I'm content to enjoy the pristine white landscape from the comfort of my couch. Garden catalogues began arriving before christmas and their glossy photographs have already begun to fuel endless fantasies. Fantasies that don't include April temperatures in the 90's, July hail storms, snails or those slimy lily beetle grubs that made mincemeat of my asiatic lilies last year. Perhaps this summer my new arches will provide the perfect support for the large-flowered clematis that I've always coveted,but have yet to grow successfully. Of course if all of my schemes unfolded according to plan, I might come to miss the challenges and inevitable disappointments that are the gardener's lot in life... or perhaps I'd finally achieve that much touted inner peace that thus far has eluded me.

In any case, I wanted to thank you all for your support and encouragement and for taking the time to read my blog. Here's wishing you a wonderful new year filled with beautiful gardens.

May all your fantasies grow into reality.

Andrew

Getting Along Swimmingly

2010-11-08T17:18:00.001-08:00

At about this time last November a client, for whom I've worked for a number of years, approached me about designing a swimming pool for her home in Wilton CT. Of course I jumped at the chance even though the site posed two challenging problems. The first concerned her property's steep grade and the second, which proved to be an even more daunting issue, involved an adjacent reservoir.

The proximity to a wetland area combined with the precipitous slope leading up from the water negated the usual setback regulations. In other words the Wilton Wetland Commission essentially controlled the entire property. I won't regale with the sordid details of the permit process. Suffice it to say that I would have liked to give a piece of my mind to the members of that commission, but sometimes it just isn't possible to speak truth to power. The cost of acquiring the town's approval amounted to little more than highway robbery and their requirements were for the most part ludicrously unnecessary. Nevertheless, my client was committed to the project and we persevered. Although after months of work we still haven't completed the construction, the overall design is taking shape nicely.

In order to mitigate the grading issue, I decided to divide the slope into four separate patio spaces joined by wide flights of stairs. At the very bottom of the pool garden a four foot high wall eliminates the need for a fence, leaving the view of the reservoir unobstructed.

On the second patio level I installed a spa, which is quite close to the house and can be used year around even after the pool has winterized.

We had always intended to construct the cabana, which sits at one end of the pool and has a lovely view of the house and surrounding property.

The fireplace at the opposite end of the pool,however, was a later inspiration that both nicely balances the cabana and provides a spot for gathering on cool nights.

Last month I worked with a very talented backhoe operator for a few days. Together we set the forty large boulders that retain the slopes between the separate patios. The adjoining garden areas are planted with broad sweeps of low, flowering shrubs and perennials that won't obstruct the view.

Although the landscaping may not look like much now, I'm confident that in the years to come the plantings, which are arranged in a palette of blue, white and pink, will both soften and compliment the patios and pool.

As far as the rest of the construction is concerned, we still have to install the fence, the stair rails and the lighting as well as finish both the exterior and interior of the cabana. Given last night's unexpected snowfall, I have a feeling that we'll still be working on this project next spring. I have, however, promised my client that we'll be ready for a Memorial Day party come the end of May. If by chance you were wondering about the small dog that makes an appearance in many of my pictures, his name is Puck and he's my one year old miniature Labradoodle. He's something of a mischievous fellow so I guess his name suites him perfectly.

Stella.....!!!!!!!!

2010-09-26T12:16:00.000-07:00

A year or so after installing the cottage garden in the front of my house I decided that it would be nice to edge the walkways with a low-growing border of some sort. I contemplated dwarf boxwood but thought the effect would be too formal. I also considered lavender, but it does not winter over reliably for me. As it happened a client of mine in Darien, CT was in the process of selling her house and asked if I would like to give some of the perennials in her garden a new home. Some years earlier,as a backdrop to her swimming pool, I had installed a red and yellow garden in which I had included a few groupings of Stella d'oro daylilies. Back then Stella's hadn't achieved quite the level of ubiquity that they currently enjoy. Since that time they have become a mainstay of mall parking lots and other commercial enterprises. Their popularity is understandable. Like most daylilies they are tough and easy to grow. They offer a tremendous flush of bloom in June and then continue to flower more modestly until frost. Their foliage is low and grassy and their small albeit brassy yellow flowers command attention even from a distance. It occurred to me that my client's Stella's would make a cheap ( i.e. free) edging plant for my cottage garden and so I separated her clumps into approximately fifty divisions and planted them along my walkways.

I soon regretted my decision. In spring and late summer the mounds of arching green leaves sprinkled with blossoms were pleasant enough. When the plants burst into full bloom in June, however, the sheer number of flowers overwhelmed the garden and in truth their color was a bit jarring for my taste. The majority of the plants in my garden are not exotic or uncommon. For the most part I select cultivars because of their compositional attributes rather then their pedigree so I don't consider myself to be a plant snob. Even so, each time I'd observe Stella's growing in front of gas stations and shopping plazas I found that I liked them less in my own garden. In fact for years I've been rather embarrassed by their display and in June I'd resolve to rip them out in the fall. Yet once September rolled around and the plants acquired a more sedate charm I'd inevitably change my mind. After all digging out and replacing fifty large daylily clumps is a labor intensive task that requires an outlay of cash.

This past August, however, I received a copy of the Oakes Daylily catalogue. Its pages are filled with tempting photos and the inside front cover promises extra-large divisions. Many of you may remember that I'm not a fan of ordering plants through the mail, having been disappointed time and again by the tiny weaklings that arrived on my doorstep. After repeatedly leafing through the Oakes' catalogue I found that I couldn't resist the variety pictured above, Siloam Bye Lo, which Oakes and the internet list as a diminutive repeat bloomer, and so I ordered fourteen to replace the Stella's along the shorter arms of my walkway. To my pleasant surprise the divisions I received were indeed quite generous and as a bonus the company sent me three additional plants for free. I was so impressed that I've decided to bite the bullet and order thirty-five more this week. It will be such a relief to be rid of the Stella's once and for all and greatful friends have been more than happy to take them off my hands.

As for the rest of my property in Seekonk, despite the fears I expressed in an earlier post, the front garden at least is holding its own. My asters are blooming as are dahlias, roses, phlox, coreopsis, anemones, and salvias. In the early morning and late afternoon light it still looks quite lovely.

The Hot Colored garden is a bit of tangle, though it still has some color and a certain blowzy appeal.

Sadly, the Blue & White garden suffered during this long hot summer. The leaves of the ostrich ferns were completely brown a month ago and I've already cut them to the ground. The hostas are looking tired and there are relatively few plants in bloom. Still from certain angles it's possible to get a feel for its former charm.

Dinner Is Served

2010-08-24T12:33:00.000-07:00

At the risk of repeating myself I must profess that I am exceedingly fond of dahlias. In fact they are probably one of my all time favorite flowers. While my peonies are incomparably lovely, they bloom for but a few weeks and I have yet to discover an attractive way to keep their heavy flowers upright. Many of my roses offer fragrance as well as voluptuous beauty, but the bushes are plagued by a host of insects like Japanese beetles. Invariably by mid-August their leaves are disfigured by black spot and mildew. Dahlias, however, are relatively pest-free and bear blossoms in an almost limitless array of colors, shapes and sizes. Though they have very little scent, they more then compensate for their lack of fragrance by producing an abundance flowers at the tail end of the season when little else is in bloom.

In the past I've restricted my choice of dahlia varieties to those with relatively small flowers the modest size of which compliment the perennials and flowering shrubs in my gardens. This spring, however, I decided to plant a combination of tea roses and dinner plate dahlias in the parallel beds pictured above. Last summer I grew zinnias and Italian sunflowers in these beds and thought this new pairing would make a wonderful combination for cutting. I'd wanted to try my hand at tea roses for some time, but they're too fussy for my perennial borders and my gardens aren't large enough to accommodate the scale of the dinner plate dahlias.

Once the standard requirements of full sun, good soil and a little bone meal are fulfilled, the real trick to growing large flowered dahlias is figuring out how to stake them properly. The blossoms are so enormous (the pink one pictured above is almost a foot across) that their stems invariably snap if they aren't given a good deal of support. A couple years ago I discovered a very attractive solution to this problem literally in my own backyard.

Shortly after I purchased my property a crop of pesky Sumac seedlings appeared in the field behind my house. Sumac is a tenacious, fast growing weed tree and despite persistent springtime mowings the saplings continued to sent up new shoots.

To my dismay each year this new growth has gotten taller and now the towering stems must be cut by hand. A few autumns ago, while sawing down the current crop it occurred to me that the the long straight saplings would make wonderful heavy duty garden stakes. Not only are they more attractive than those available at garden centers, but they have proved to be the perfect sturdy supports for many plants, including my dinner plate dahlias.

In early May I arranged three Sumac stakes in a tight triangle and planted a single dahlia tuber in its center. Over the course of the summer I've looped twine around the stakes making a tight cage that has successfully held the dahlia's heavy stems in place. As it turns out the stakes are really only good for one season, but out in the field there's already a fresh crop of ten foot tall saplings ready to be harvested.

As for the tea roses, I made the mistake of buying cheap bare root plants from a discount store. Of the twenty I purchased only about half took hold. Still I've been encouraged by the fact that many of the survivors have thrived. Next year I'll shop with an eye to quality not cost and focus on fragrance. After all there's nothing like coming home to the sweet smell of roses.

August Field Trip

2010-08-08T16:43:00.001-07:00

Some of my readers may recall that last October I posted an essay entitled "Rock The Slope". Included were pictures of a rock garden that I had recently installed for clients who own a large parcel of land that straddles the Connecticut/Rhode Island border. The property, of which I'm quite envious, includes a mill pond with a rushing brook and waterfall, a few out buildings and an historic Barrel Mill that my clients converted into a charming residence. Last year I promised to share some photos of the other projects which I have completed on the property and thought the dog days of August might be an opportune time to take a virtual field trip.

During our initial consultation more than five years ago, my clients asked me to include a swimming pool in their master plan. I'm a firm believer that in the Northeast whenever possible pools should be hidden from view. After all for almost eight months of the year a swimming pool is little more than a cement hole covered with a tarp. After analyzing various options I placed a pool garden parallel to the foundation of their existing barn. The siting of the pool seemed a logical choice and brought a sense of order to the randomness of their property. I enclosed the entire garden, which contains an arbor, patios and a twenty by sixty foot rectangular pool, with a black chain link fence hidden by privet hedges.

My clients already owned a dramatic pair of wrought iron gates, which made a wonderful addition to the garden.To further integrate the barn into the new design, I centered a parterre on its facade.

The parterre serves as an entrance to the pool garden and connects it with a flower-filled rock garden that leads back up to the main house.

The parterre is laid out in a simple geometric design and its beds are planted with boxwoods, low maintenance roses and perennials punctuated by tree-form lilacs and hydrangeas. The centerpiece of the parterre is a fountain that I fashioned out of a mill wheel, one of a number that my clients found on the property. The granite wheel sits on a sunken fiberglass basin filled with the same peastone used on the pathways. Water spilling over the fountain's sides seems to magically disappear into the gravel walkway.

As for the rock garden on the far side of the house, it is filling in nicely. I think that its palette, a subdued combination of greens and whites, subtly compliments the adjoining pond and woods.

Cottage Industry

2010-07-12T11:42:00.000-07:00

The other day a client who visited my gardens here in Seekonk remarked that my house was like an English cottage. While I don't technically live in a cottage, I think the facade of my house is well suited to the landscape style commonly referred to as a cottage garden. In truth though, the plantings surrounding my home have a bit more structure than is typically associated with the more haphazard cottage look. Over the past few years, however, I have let certain plants self-seed and the result has softened the garden's original design. For the most part these serendipitous additions have enriched the overall effect. I admit, however, that it's a fine line that I'm walking. Recently I've begun to question at what point lush becomes simply overgrown. Although it may be difficult to tear healthy plants from the ground for the sake of aesthetics, heavy handed restraint is required when a good thing becomes too much of a good thing.

Adhering to a designated color scheme is essential to keeping some semblance of order and intention in the garden. Along the back side of my house the hot colored garden is currently dominated by a stand of lilies the flowers of which were supposed to be yellow with darker rust stripes. Unfortunately as their blossoms mature the petals fade to a color that reads as white. This year I also purchased a batch of copper-colored yarrow. Unfortunately like the lilies its flowers take on whitish tones as they age.

To my eye the white flowers mar the integrity of the garden's design. While there is something appealing about abundance, without the structure of a rigid color scheme the planting looks simply cluttered. I've been tempted to cut the lilies and stuff them in a vase but haven't quite summoned up the nerve. This fall I'll dig up their bulbs and move them to the front of the house where their creamy petals will work to greater advantage. Since I haven't decided how to successfully use a plant with orange flowers that after quickly fading remain white for weeks on end, I may have to consign the yarrow to the compost pile.

Lately I've been wondering if much of anything is still going to be flowering in my garden come September. Spring in the Northeast arrived a good month ahead of schedule. With the exception of a nail-biting dip in the thermometer in mid-May that had me running my sprinklers throughout the night to ward off the frost, the weather has remained warm. In fact the last few weeks have been downright hot. 2010's precocious growing season is playing havoc with the sequence of bloom that I have meticulously choreographed. This year my lilacs flowered in April and my peonies peaked in May a good three weeks ahead of schedule. Many of the plants that I rely on for color in the late summer and early fall are already in bloom. Even my Autumn flowering anemones are in bud. Of course it's disappointing that once again my best laid plans have been foiled by Mother Nature. My frustration, however, was somewhat eased when this lovely vignette unexpectedly appeared in my Blue & White Garden.

In the past my Oakleaf and Lacecap hydrangeas haven't bloomed at the same time as the low-growing hosta. If the Clematis Heracleifolia that twines around the urn had opened its sky blue bell-shaped flowers ahead of schedule the composition would have been perfect.

Blue and White

2010-06-25T08:15:00.000-07:00

I find it hard to believe that almost twelve years have passed since I first installed the Blue & White garden at my home here in Seekonk. I can still remember the youthful exuberance with which I laboriously cleared brush with a pickax that first summer and the weight of the countless wheelbarrows I filled with debris. Now that I'm in my mid-forties I wouldn't consider undertaking such a back-breaking task. Having adopted the mantra that it's foolish to spend days on a chore that a machine can accomplish in a matter of hours, I'd hire a backhoe operator instead.

Although over the past decade my acre of land has evolved well beyond my original imaginings, in many ways the Blue & White garden remains my favorite part of the property. Partly this is because of its location near the field and river and partly it's because of the color scheme, which I still adore. Since the garden is set in what has become for all intents and purposes the back of the house, it is the last outdoor room that guests discover when visiting my home. At this time of year it remains barely visible until one reaches the edge of the checkerboard patio.

Even from the top of the stairs that lead down to the garden's mulched pathways the rectangular lily pond is concealed from view. Only the sound of splashing hints at the existence of a hidden water feature. Perhaps this slight element of surprise adds to its charm.

I've often wondered if it is the soothing color palette or the fact that the garden is set in the lowest part of my property that always seems to make the air feel cooler. If only I had the inclination to lounge on the bench beneath the arbor. Sadly, I find it difficult to relax in the garden. After a few minutes I invariably become distracted by a chore that requires my attention.

It's only when friends drop by that I take the time to simply enjoy the garden. For those brief moments I set my tools aside and try to view the garden uncritically as if seeing it through their eyes.

Maybe I should begin a new tradition and start making summer solstice resolutions. My first would be to spend more time savoring the fruits of my labors.

After all, in a few short months, the leaves will be turning and I'll be cutting the faded stems to the ground. So today I plan to pick up a book and go sit in garden and read. But first I have some snapdragons to plant and dahlias to stake.The roses need water and the daylilies are ready to be deadheaded and I really should mow the lawn again.....

War of the Roses

2010-06-01T12:07:00.000-07:00

Earlier this spring I noticed that my rose bushes, many of which I've had for a number of years,were barely leafing out. I mentioned the problem to a gardening chum who promptly diagnosed the problem. "You probably have winter moths," she announced with an ominous lift of her brow. After doing a bit of online research I discovered that winter moths have recently appeared in New England and are currently munching their way across Massachusetts.

The prodigious damage isn't actually caused by the moths, but rather their inch worm-like caterpillars. These voracious pests are pale green and quite tiny, which explains how I originally failed to notice them. I tried wiping them out with neem oil, an organic pesticide, but my efforts barely slowed their destructive pace. Hoping that eventually the caterpillars would stop eating to spin their cocoons, I gambled that my rose bushes would probably recover once the attack subsided. I soon realized, however, that the caterpillars were eating not only my roses, but my crab apple trees and flowering plums as well.In fact they appeared to be eating just about everything. While I had resigned myself to a year without roses, I couldn't stomach the prospect of having my entire yard denuded.

A few years ago I waged a war against a groundhog that was rapidly mowing my garden to the ground. Each morning I'd discover another prized clump of phlox or some other glorious treasure reduced to a broken tangle of chewed stems. Over a period of weeks I exhausted every humane remedy I could think of; clumps of dog hair, moth balls, various foul smelling repellents, and a havahart trap, which succeeded in catching an opossom. I even hired a professional pest removal company to no avail. Finally, after searching online, I ordered some snares and caught the creature in less than twenty-four hours. I won't regale you with the gory details, but suffice it to say that my final showdown with the groundhog was not an experience I care to repeat.

Having faced down a marauding groundhog, I wasn't about to let caterpillars destroy my entire garden. Last month in an act of desperation I called my arborist and had him spray my property. The proximity of my two lily ponds and the adjacent river severely limited his choice of pesticides as many are lethal to fish and other aquatic creatures. I believe he settled on a horticultural oil, which is less toxic than other chemicals. Although I felt terribly guilty about calling in a chemical arsenal, his spraying did the trick. As you can see from my photographs the gardens rebounded nicely and the roses this year are more lovely than ever.

In The Blink Of An Eye.

2010-05-08T06:47:00.000-07:00

I find it rather bittersweet that many of my favorite spring time vignettes come and go with heart breaking speed. Perhaps that is why I look forward to their appearance in the garden with such anticipation and treasure them so dearly. Although my daffodils and tulips have been making a lovely display for a good two months now, the flowering of the four Delaware Valley White azaleas that anchor the corners of the lily pond in the Blue & White garden seems to pass in the blink of an eye.

I recently purchased a new camera and have been snapping photos every day in hopes of capturing the cloud of white flowers at their peak. This year the azalea blossoms briefly coincided with the opening of the crepe-like petals of my white tree peony, an equally fleeting and rare treat.

On the other side of my house the Clematis Montana Rubens that climbs across my roof is covered in vanilla scented pink flowers.

Although its flowering is brief in comparison with most other clematis varieties,Montana Rubens mounts an incomparable display. Unlike many of its cousins it isn't in the least bit fussy, tolerates full sun as well as part shade and rarely succumbs to the dreaded clematis wilt.

Perhaps more subtle, but in my opinion equally lovely is the unfurling of the red tinged leaves of the ornamental rhubarb, Rheum Palmatum var Tanguticum, that anchors the back side of the farm pond. While the leaves will retain some of their vibrant color for most of the summer, they are most striking in the spring.

I find them particularly lovely when combined with the bold chartreuse foliage of the dramatic hosta Sum and Substance.

In another week the azalea blossoms will litter the ground. I may pause to lament their passing before reminding myself that a successful landscape design doesn't rely on the bounty of a single plant. It is the overall composition; the interplay of physical structure and plant selection that truly make a garden beautiful. Or perhaps, I'll simply turn my attention to the peonies, roses, and bearded irises that are about to burst into bloom.

Daffodil Daze

2010-04-12T07:39:00.001-07:00

Of the multitude of spring flowering bulbs available today daffodils (narcissus) are undoubtedly my favorite. Although for sheer flamboyance some may prefer the tulip, tulip bulbs must be replaced every few years to ensure a bountiful display. When planted with a modicum of care in a sunny spot, however, daffodils become more floriferous over time.

While it's true that when compared to tulips the color palette of the genus narcissus is somewhat limited, encompassing combinations of yellow, white, orange and a range of peachy-pinks, the individual flowers exhibit a tremendous range of forms and unlike tulips are often endowed with a lovely fragrance. Below are just a few of the varieties blooming in my garden today.

Some people are fond of the diminutive varieties that must be viewed up close to truly appreciate their delicate blossoms. I prefer more robust plants that create greater impact in the landscape. Over the years I've planted them in the hundreds and this morning I counted well over a thousand blossoms in my garden.

Mid-April is is usually the height of the daffodil season here in Seekonk. Even so I'll continue to enjoy late-flowered varieties into the early weeks of May. I've found that with judicious selection it's possible to have daffodils in bloom for a good two months each spring.

There is a downside to planting such large quantities of daffodils. In order for the bulbs to store enough energy to increase in size and re-bloom, their foliage must be allowed to ripen, a process which can last until July. Cutting back the leaves too early will weaken the bulbs. Wherever possible I try to mask the unsightly clumps with perennials, but there invariably comes a time when I tire of looking at the withering leaves.

Nevertheless, as I was cutting flowers for a bouquet this morning, I found it hard to imagine my garden without its drifts of daffodil blossoms nodding in the spring breeze.

In Retrospect

2010-03-23T06:40:00.000-07:00

A few months ago an editor at Gardens Illustrated, arguably the best gardening magazine published today, expressed interest in scheduling a photo shoot at my home in Seekonk. Via email he explained that he was searching for a suitable photographer and wondered if in the meantime I would send him a layout of the property. Since I'm a Landscape Designer, he obviously assumed that I had already drafted a plan of the gardens for my own use. The truth, however, is that my design process here has been improvisational, relying more on stakes,twine and unexpected inspiration than the drafting table.

When I set about drawing up a master plan of my property, I recalled how it had looked back in 1998 when I first moved in. At that time the rundown, yellow clapboard house had been surrounded by a maze of weedy paddocks, gravel driveways and dilapidated out buildings. In truth I'd originally been charmed by the beauty of the adjoining wildlife sanctuary with its river and woods not the land which I would come to own. And although I always intended to garden here, I never imagined the extent to which I would transform my single acre or the time, money and energy the process would consume.

Beginning with the Blue and White garden, which occupies what had formerly been a tangle of brambles and poison ivy bordered by a low rock wall, I eventually worked my way around the house removing and installing driveways (more than once), tearing down garages, taking out paddock fences and turning field to lawn. In my profession time for contemplation is an uncommon luxury and in hindsight it's obvious that each new garden influenced the character of subsequent features. As I finished my master plan I realized how much knowledge I had gained during the past decade and wondered what the property would look like today had I designed it in one fell swoop.

So what's next? Well to be honest, I'm not sure that I can handle more maintenance. After all, I have a job and it would be nice to have time for a bit of a social life. Still, lately I've been fantasizing about building a rockery in the slope near the river and I'd love a rustic summerhouse with a fireplace and a hammock somewhere behind the urn that marks the end of what will be a rose garden this year.

As for Gardens Illustrated, I'm still not certain that they're coming this summer, but if they do you'll be the first to know.

Seed And Be Seen

2010-02-27T07:45:00.001-08:00

California Poppy

Last year at about this time the urge to get my hands in the soil prompted me to start some seeds indoors,something I hadn't done since I was a kid. Back then I used a fancy three tiered grow light stand that I had received as a birthday present. Today a similar stand would cost several hundred dollars and with the recession looming I opted for a cheaper approach. At Lowes I purchased a pair of inexpensive, rectangular workshop light fixtures. After fitting them with tubular florescent lights, I hung them over a table in my basement.

Nicotiana Sylvestris

Once my lights were in place I ordered seeds from the Thompson & Morgan catalogue. I like their selection because they carry unusual varieties of common plants. In the past I've purchased unique zinnias, sunflowers and nasturtiums, all of which are best sown directly into the garden once the soil warms. For indoor propagation, however, I focused on plants that would benefit from an early start. I also chose varieties that wouldn't be available at the nurseries I frequent later in the season. I settled on a new variety of California Poppy (Eschschoizia Californica), Nicotiana Sylvestris, noted for its fragrant white flowers, and Cosmos Double Click, a new double form of the old garden favorite.

Cosmos Double Click

Eschewing the various deluxe seed-starting containers sold in speciality catalogues, I filled old six-inch pots with seed starting mix. After sowing my seeds, I covered the pots with plastic wrap held in place with rubber bands. The wrap creates an effect much like a mini-greenhouse. Once the seedlings sprouted, I thinned them out until only five seedlings remained in each pot. Even so, since I started with ten pots of each variety I ended up with more plants than I needed. Plants sown indoors require a period of hardening off, the process by which plants are slowly acclimated to the outdoor environment. As the weather began to warm I placed mine outside in a sheltered spot in the morning and returned them to the basement at sundown. After all danger of frost had past, I planted them in the garden and enjoyed their flowers for much of the summer.

So what am I going to start indoors this year? To be honest I've decided that, although the process was fun, the results didn't justify the cost or effort. While it's true that I might not be able to find the exact varieties on my wish list at a garden center this spring, the selection of summer-flowering annuals has improved tremendously in recent years. And besides, I enjoy touring nurseries and buying plants. Though the cost may be a bit higher than starting them myself, it's a simple pleasure that for me is guilt free...well almost.

The White Witch

2010-01-30T07:32:00.001-08:00

For many people winter is a period of withdrawal and introspection, but for gardeners it is perhaps the most optimistic time of the year. Once the holidays are passed and visions of sugarplums have faded from memory, imaginations fill with dreams of the perfect garden yet to come. Distracted by the glossy pages of seed catalogues and the imminent arrival of spring promised by the lengthening days, it can be all to easy to overlook February's snowy beauty. As I write this post, the squall swirling outside my window conjures images of C.S. Lewis' Narnia. To my eye the blanket of white dusting the landscape rivals any effect my efforts have yet achieved. Winter's muted palette of browns, greens and white has a sophistication that renders summer's jubilance almost juvenile by comparison.

In June my roses and peonies steal attention from the surrounding landscape. The river recedes mysteriously into the the distance and the trees become little more than a green backdrop. Now I see that this hierarchy is reversed. My gardens appear dwarfed by the breadth of the icy river and the depth of the adjoining woods. Surprisingly, I find that I hardly miss them at all.

Of course I know that soon enough I'll tire of the cold and long for the sight of some cheerful color. I can already hear myself cursing March for delivering so little in the way of warmth. For the moment, however, I'm content to let the perennials sleep while I contemplate winter's subtle beauty.

Rock the Slope

2009-10-08T12:31:00.000-07:00

This summer a client, for whom I've done quite a bit of work in the past, asked me to take a look at a new project. He and his partner's historic summer house, a renovated barrel mill, is sited on a wonderful piece of property that includes acres of woodland, a large mill pond, a river, and a waterfall. Earlier that spring my client's mason had begun work on a stone patio adjoining their second floor bedroom and balcony. From the outside the patio would be accessible via a ramp system intended to provide wheel chair access. Once the construction was underway my client realized that he wasn't certain how best to integrate the patio and ramp with the precipitous slope that borders the back of the house.

My solution involved constructing a low retaining wall to frame the patio and a large rock garden to retain the embankment. We also decided to build a rustic stone staircase to provide access to the woods above the house. I thought that the formality of the wall, which could also be used for casual seating,would provide an interesting contrast to the naturalistic flow of the rock garden.

I also thought that by manipulating the grade of the existing slope, the placement of the rock stairs, and the choice of plant material I could visually draw the water closer to the patio. When viewed from certain vantage points, it now appears that the mill pond touches the stairway, though in fact it is some distance away.

The goal when laying out a rock garden is to create a finished product that doesn't look manmade. In order to achieve a natural effect the boulders must be substantial. Rocks of this size can only be set by a skilled backhoe operator with the help of one or more assistants. I find that the rocks look best when at least a third of their surface is buried beneath the ground. I also like to place them in groups of three or more, though I will occasionally set pairs or single stones. In the past I have installed rock gardens using boulders purchased from a stone supplier. In this case we had the advantage of being able to gather all of the rocks on the site, a luxury which insured that the finished design would blend with the indigenous outcroppings.

I suggested that we limit out plant selection to low maintenance ground covers like junipers and cotoneasters. In part this was because I had already designed and installed substantial gardens on the property, which require a good deal of upkeep. Additionally, I didn't want the rock garden's plantings to compete with the natural beauty of the woods and pond. For a little added interest I included some low-key flowering shrubs and perennials along with a few choice dwarf evergreens. The garden's color scheme, however, which relies almost entirely on foliage, is predominantly shades of green, silver, and blue.
Though perhaps it looks a bit bare and stark at the moment, I'm confident that once the plantings mature the garden will subtly compliment its surroundings.

We've had some glorious early fall days here in Seekonk. I only wish my skills as a photographer were equal to the task of capturing the exquisite play of sunlight on the russet leaves and autumnal blooms. Still, I'm convinced that the garden's current incarnation rivals spring's more commonplace charms.

Confessions of an Impatient Gardener

2009-09-25T12:39:00.000-07:00

When I initially sat down to work on another installment of "A Year In the Garden", I had intended to discuss the various plants that are contributing autumnal color to the gardens here in Seekonk. I selected most of the photos accordingly and have included them despite the fact that, instead of my original topic, I've decided to write about something all together different. The time has come, I think, to make a confession.

When designing for clients, I make it a rule to meticulously research the ultimate heights, widths, and invasive tendencies of the plants I recommend. I deemed such rigorous investigation necessary after learning a terrible lesson the hard way. Many years ago I added Artemisia 'Silver king', a lovely plant with filigreed silver foliage, to a client's perennial border. In less than a year its invasive stems had run rampant throughout the entire garden. I bloodied my hands tearing it out piece by piece and vowed never to make the same mistake again. Yet, despite years of experience and public lectures in which I have cautioned my audience to carefully consider the mature stature and habit of any plant before making a purchase, the truth of the matter is that I don't always "practice what I preach". Visitors strolling through my property would be well advised to take heed of the old adage "Do as I say, not as a I do" because, in truth, some of my more impetuous decisions have been motivated sheerly by impatience and the ill-advised pursuit of an instantaneous effect.

As portions of the gardens here in Seekonk have passed their tenth season the folly of my ways has become more apparent. The hedge of Leyland Cypresses, that I installed because of their notoriously rapid growth, has started to encroach on the garden it surrounds. For the first few years the trees created a lovely feathery screen. Guests invariably gasped in admiration upon hearing that the impressive trees had been only five feet tall when first planted. Unfortunately, to the detriment of other shrubs and perennials, the leyland's wide-spreading upper branches are now casting shade where none is desired. Meanwhile the lower branches have started to thin out, exposing the driveway they had been planted to conceal. In hindsight a slower growing and more compact evergreen would have been a much better choice, but I was in such a hurry to create an instant effect that I turned a blind eye to the future.

A similar problem has occurred with the Moonglow Junipers that I planted in the hot colored garden nine years ago. What were once striking, golden-needled accents have metamorphosed into flat topped gargantuans the size of which has thrown off the proportions of the entire garden. Unlike the Leyland Cypresses, whose habit I'll adapt to for the time being, the junipers will be unceremoniously ripped out of the garden this fall. I haven't decided on a replacement yet, but am determined to exercise some restraint. At very least I plan to selected a shrub that, unlike the junipers, can be easily trimmed to keep it in bounds.

Then there are those species of rampantly spreading perennials that fill a large bare spot so satisfyingly in one season, only to become an invasive nuisance the next. Glyceria Maxima, the lovely striped grass that I planted at the edge of the farm pond, falls into this category as does the variegated Aegopodium in my Blue and White garden. Though in my defense, I didn't actually plant the Aegopodium (pictured below). It must have arrived with some hostas that I had transplanted from a client's garden. Initially, I thought its silver and white leaves were charming so I left in place. Now I find myself tearing it out by the handful. Last year I dug a low trench around it in an attempt to keep its running stems in bounds. I installed trenches around the Glyceria Maxima as well, but as an escape artist its skills rival those of Houdini. I'm afraid that at some point I will have to take shovel in hand and consign every last bit of it to the compost pile. In the end these impulsive choices only make more work for me. I confess that here are times when I feel more like a lion tamer than a gardener.

This is all by way of a warning. Heed my advice and profit from my mistakes. Great gardens aren't created in an instant.Don't let your decisions be ruled by impatience and never mistake a lion cub for a house cat. Compact trees and shrubs will generally be smaller when you purchase them than their larger cousins and therefore require a bit more patience. And perennials that have multiple stems bursting out of their pots will likely soon be bursting out of your garden as well.

I arranged the bouquet on my kitchen table with flowers I just gathered from the garden yesterday. I made the one pictured below last May. I include it as a reminder that now is the time to purchase spring flowering bulbs (see post entitled Spring Bulbs). Depending upon where you live, tulips and daffodils can planted until Thanksgiving, but late october is generally the best time. I usually start planting mine after the first frost when I begin digging up my dahlia tubers.

Day of The Dahlia

2009-09-08T12:48:00.000-07:00

Even though there are still a few more days of summer left on the calendar, the oppressive heat and humidity have finally loosened their grip. For the past few evenings the air has been cool and the mornings have sparkled with a dewy brightness. This is the time of the year that I most enjoy my gardens.Beyond some casual weeding and deadheading, there is little work to be done. Gone is the sense of urgency that marks the spring and the feeling of futility that mars the dog days of summer. All of my mistakes have been duly noted, yet there is still time to enjoy the successes.

The cooler weather brings a winsome beauty to the garden. In the late summer light the flowers seem lovelier or perhaps, because I know that the growing season is drawing to a close,I study them with a less critical eye. And of all the plants blooming in my garden now, the dahlias are undoubtedly one of my favorites.

A few years ago, a friend of mine who gardens in Greenwich, Ct remarked that there was very little blooming in her garden after Labor Day. When I suggested that she plant some dahlias, she replied that she didn't like them much. Needless to say,I insisted that she take a second look at the genus. Very few flowering plants are as easy to grow or come in as many colors, shapes, and sizes. Some have blooms that are as small as thimbles, others as large as dinner plates. There are single varieties reminiscent of daisies and a whole assortment of doubles. Some like "Bishop of Llandaff", which for years I've planted in the hot-colored garden, have striking red-toned leaves. I'm particularly fond of the waterlily types, which as the name suggests have flowers shaped like waterlilies. For ease of maintenance I usually select varieties with flowers no larger than 4 or 5 inches across. Those that produce larger flowers are tiresome to keep staked and appear out of proportion with the perennials in my gardens.

Generally, dahlias prefer full sun and rich soil and benefit from a dusting of bonemeal at planting time. Because they aren't hardy here, I dig the tubers every fall and store them in the cool dry, crawl space area beneath my office. Last July I noticed a yellow dahlia growing somewhat horizontally through the blue-flowered nepeta that edges my cottage garden (see blog dated 6/11/09).I realized that I must have accidentally tossed a tuber in the general vicinity when I was planting a group of the same variety nearby. I liked the effect so much that this year I decided to plant a row of them beneath the nepeta. The tubers grew up through the nepeta foliage and then unexpectedly kept growing straight upward. Since this was not the effect I was hoping for, I waited until the plants were about three feet tall and then carefully bent them over. Now they are growing almost like a ground cover and have produced an amazing abundance of flowers. It seems that they actually bloom more heavily when the stems are trained horizontally.

Canna Pretoria (pictured above between Dahlia 'Bishop of Llandaff' and Helenium 'Moorheim Beauty' ) is another favorite late summer bloomer. The yellow striped leaves topped by bright orange flowers make a wonderfully bold statement in the garden this time of year. Like dahlias, cannas are not hardy and must be dug and stored in a similar fashion. While they do not exhibit nearly the same range of flower color or form, they are available in a variety of sizes and many have colorful foliage. I often plant them between my tulips. Once the summer heat arrives their robust growth quickly fills the empty space left by the dormant bulbs.

The yellow Ligularia 'Desdemona' that edges the "farm pond" has been blooming with great abandon this year. At the moment Its flowers look particularly lovely combined with the blue ageratum-like blooms of Eupatorium 'Coelestinum'. It seems my attempt at mimicking Mother Nature has fooled at least a few of her children. This summer some newly hatched painted turtles decided to take up residence amongst my waterlilies.

In memoriam:
At the end of August my dog, "Crash", was struck and killed by a car on the road near my house. He was my dearest pal, my boon companion,a goodwill ambassador, and a favorite of friends and clients alike.He kept me company while I worked at the drafting table and accompanied me to many job sites. His absence has left an indescribable void and the garden remains a less joyful place without him.

Aging Gracefully

2009-08-12T06:34:00.000-07:00

Last week I stopped by the home of a client whose property I had redone a few years ago. In all honesty revisiting past projects can be a dicey venture. Some clients take a lax attitude toward maintenance or implement changes that are incongruous with the original design. In this case, however, I was pleased to see how lush the plantings had grown and how well the maturing design suited the house.

When I first met with these particular clients, a successful lawyer and his wife, a large flowering pear tree obscured much of the house and hid the front door. As is often the case, the foundation beds, which were planted with a hodgepodge of shrubs and perennials, were narrow and poorly defined. The overall affect lent the house a dark and cramped aspect. In addition the orientation of the front walkway focused attention on the side yard instead of the front door ( a particular pet peeve of mine). Its placement in conjunction with the planting scheme accentuated the proximity of a semi-circular, gravel driveway, which further detracted from the beauty of the house.

The house, which is much larger than it first appears, is set back from the road on a substantial piece of land. To give it a more proportional frame I greatly enlarged the foundation beds and lengthened the front walkway. Since the clients primarily enter the house through a side door near the garage, extending the entry walk did not affect their day to day lives and allowed visitors a clearer view of the door. Because the house is relatively low and has a lovely stone facade, I selected primarily ground hugging plantings that wouldn't conceal the stonework and added more height on the sides to soften the corners of the house.

To further draw attention to the front walkway I framed it with widely spaced boxwood balls interplanted with a foil of grassy Liriope. The Liriope remains green for most of the winter and throws lovely blue flowers at the end of the summer. The remaining plantings, all of which are placed in large groups ( except for a pair of low-growing Japanese Maples), include evergreen Japanese hollies and cotoneasters to ensure winter interest along with deutzias, quince, hydrangeas, and roses for color during the growing season. The blue flowers in the photos are geranium Rozanne, a perennial that blooms for most of the summer.

I am particularly pleased with the look of the cobble and peastone driveway. And because cars ride on the cobble bands the peastone remains tidy. Instead of the usual gray gravel, I selected a tan stone ( actually a combination of various browns) that I had seen used to great affect on the walkways in the Tuillerie gardens in Paris.

Although, as I have mentioned, the entire property is quite large, the site, which for all intents and purposes functions as the backyard, is situated on a narrow strip of land between the garage and the house. When I began the project there was no visual barrier separating this space from the parking area, which made guests feel as though they were sitting in the driveway.

There was also no visual distinction between the front and back yards. An open lattice fence planted with vines alleviated this problem and also beautified the blank wall of the garage.

To make the back yard area feel more spacious I removed unnecessary retaining walls and enlarged a small porch attached to the house. The original porch was both awkwardly sited and too small to function as a viable sitting area. To create even more socializing space I installed a pair of interlocking square patios. I find that squares tend to make a narrow yard feel wider. The original design called for three interlocking squares, but the clients were concerned that this would create too much patio space. Subsequently they confessed that we should have included the third square. In all the years that I've been working no-one has ever complained that their patio was too large.

My client likes to garden and so this part of the property is planted with masses of perennials, flowering shrubs, roses, grasses and pockets of annuals all set off to great advantage against the clean lines of the bluestone and brick patios.

Here in Seekonk things are looking a bit drowsy. My chores these days consist primarily of dead heading and staking. Though despite all my efforts, June's fresh exuberance is definitely a thing of the past.Despite the snails and rainy days there are plenty of flowers to cut for indoor arrangements. Even so,I'm looking forward to September when hopefully the humidity will drop; the sunlight will take on a softer more flattering brilliance and the gardens will catch a second wind.

Grateful Dead-Heading

2009-07-28T05:58:00.001-07:00

As August approaches the gardens here in Seekonk have settled into their mid-summer rhythm. Though I may occasionally fill a bare spot with a showy annual or two (make that an even half dozen), most of my time these days is spent on routine maintenance. While it's true that autumn's tawny seed pods have a certain romantic charm, during the blowzy dog days faded petals and browning stems can make the garden look tired and disheveled. Deadheading, the process by which old flowers are removed with scissors or pruning shears, is the best way to keep plants looking fresh, giving the landscape, as it were, a horticultural face lift.

In addition to the purely aesthetic benefits, removing spent blossoms from certain plants will often prolong the bloom cycle or encourage another flush of flowers later in the season. For annuals like zinnias, dahlias, and cosmos deadheading is absolutely necessary to ensure that the plants remain in bloom until frost. Certain perennials: heleniums, monardas, and rudbeckias, for example, also benefit from this practice. And while it can be time consuming, I find that removing the dead flower heads from summer-blooming shrubs like spireas and buddleias reliably extends flower production.

Because seed production diverts energy from the mother plant, flowering bulbs like daffodils and lilies also benefit from deadheading. Since bulbs generally bloom only once a year, however, you won't reap the benefits of your labor until the following spring when you'll be rewarded with larger and more prolific plants. Of course, if you want your plants to self-sow, at least a few seed heads should be allowed to reach maturity. I often encourage biennial and short-lived hollyhocks, lychnis, foxgloves, and columbines to set seed, ensuring that I have a continuous supply of new seedlings every year.

Though not technically "deadheading", I also make a habit of discarding dying or discolored foliage. Removing brown leaves serves both an aesthetic and functional purpose. In addition to detracting from the garden's beauty, dying leaves may carry and spread mildew and other diseases.

I'm enormously fond of daylilies and have planted several large groupings in the the gardens here. Unfortunately, I find that as the plants reach the end of their bloom cycle, their foliage begins to brown out. By August, what was once a lovely mass of grassy vegetation crowned with bright blooms has become an unsightly tangle of dying leaves topped by brittle faded stems.

A few years ago I discovered that, if I grabbed a handful of the browning leaves by their tips and yanked upward, the old foliage easily came away revealing new green shoots near the soil line. Subsequently, I realized that I could simply cut the plants almost to the ground once they've finished blooming. Though this drastic measure produces an unappealing bald spot in the garden for a few weeks, the plants soon throw new growth that remains fresh until hard frost.

The next time you have a few minutes to work in your garden bring a pair of pruning shears and trim away the dead flowers.
You'll be glad or should I say grateful that you did.

David and Goliath

2009-07-02T07:46:00.000-07:00

As I write this post, yet another torrential thunderstorm is beating my gardens to a pulp.Thankfully, I took this group of pictures a few days ago when, although the sun wasn't shining, at least there was a break in the rain.

It seems that inevitably there comes a point every summer when winter's optimistic imaginings collide with the reality of trying to manipulate an essentially ungovernable force. I'm afraid that once again I have reached that point and find myself wondering why I continue to invest my time and energy on such a fragile endeavor.

Just outside my window a formerly upright stand of lychnis Coronaria is virtually horizontal. Flamboyant dinner plate dahlia blossoms hang from broken stems. The double cosmos that I lovingly started from seed in my basement are plastered on the ground. And the arching sprays of sea foam roses that blanket the slope in the Blue and White garden have been reduced to a sodden tangle.

Each year brings a new set of battles;glutenous groundhogs, unexpected frosts, drought, wind storms, and of course a variety of insect infestations. If I sound a bit demoralized, perhaps at the moment I am. Yet I know that as soon as the sun comes out and the ground dries a bit, I'll venture back out to the garden armed with stakes, twine, and pruning shears, determined to repair the damage.

Despite the perception that it is genteel avocation, serious gardening is not for quitters or the faint of heart. As with the proverbial conflict between David and Goliath, courage and optimism are necessary attributes if one is to continually engage Nature on such an intimate level.

So Perhaps as an optimistic nod to more benevolent weather, next week I'll reward myself with a trip to the nursery to pick out a handful of new treasures.

Though my yoga teacher councils me to live in the moment, the garden encourages me to look toward the future. Here's to sunnier skies and gentle breezes. Namaste.

Roses, Irises, and Peonies....Oh My!

2009-06-11T06:00:00.000-07:00

It seems that Mother Nature is a bit confused of late. According to a friend of mine on the west coast, Seattle has been sunny and warm, while here in the northeast one cool, grey, rainy day follows another with no break in sight. Though the dismal weather has done little for my state of mind,I take solace in the fact that at least I haven't had to run my irrigation system. And in truth, the gardens here are veritably bursting at their seams.

The verdant almost tropical explosion of growth has pretty much cowed all but a few of the most tenacious weeds in my beds. This comes as a bit of a relief since I didn't mulch any of my gardens this year. Normally, I spread a few inches of composted leaves or well rotted horse manure over the beds in the fall. I find this chore easier in the autumn when I don't have to worry about stepping on tender shoots. In the spring most plants easily push their way through the insulating cover. Last year, however, my garden was inundated with snails and I thought that perhaps the winter covering of mulch was partly to blame. Unfortunately, the snails have returned in full force so it seems the mulch wasn't responsible after all.To date I've tried pretty much every snail bate on the market, except for the product recommended by the perennial propagator at my favorite nursery, which after a bit of research turned out to be toxic to pets. Currently, I'm experimenting with diatomaceous earth, a dusting agent made from the fossilized remains of diatoms, a type of hard shelled algae. The dust supposedly abrades the snail's tender flesh. If all else fails, perhaps I'll have to purchase a few new chickens. I never had a snail problem when chickens roamed the garden. Their persistent digging, however, wrecked havoc with the mulched walkways in the blue and white garden and a few years ago I gave them away.I guess it's a question of the lesser of two evils.

Alchemist, the wonderful, old-fashioned rose growing over my door and at the entrance to the cottage garden is an "own root" rose that I purchased from Heirloom Roses (heirloomroses.com) a few years ago. Most roses available through catalogues or at nurseries are grafted onto a standard rootstock. Own root roses are grown from rooted cuttings that are virus free,longer-lived, more floriferous, and hardier than their grafted counterparts. Their only drawback is that they take a few years to establish themselves. I planted mine in a nursery bed for a year before moving them to the garden proper.

Visitors often inquire about the ground cover growing between the bluestone squares in my checkerboard patio. Originally, I had planted the patio with three different varieties of thyme,but eventually settled on golden thyme, Thymus vulgaris aureus. Unlike other ground hugging thymes, golden thyme puts on some height giving the patio a more three dimensional appearance. I also love the chartreuse color of its leaves, though I'm not particularly fond of the pale pink flowers, which I usually shear off. This brings me to the plant's main drawback. Golden thyme is a rampant grower. It must be cut back once or twice a summer to keep its foliage from completely obscuring the bluestone squares. Trimming is time consuming and a bit tedious. Using a pair of scissors I trim the tops and bevel the edges of each plant much like shearing a hedge.

Though I adore the fragrance and look of lavender (and who doesn't ?), I have little success getting the plants to winter over. As a replacement, I rely on the the airy, lavender-like, flowers of Nepeta Six Hills Giant. I've used this nepeta to great affect as an edging in the cottage garden and en masse in the Blue and White garden. Nepeta is a true workhorse that blooms for most of the summer and isn't bothered by pests (including snails). If I could only have one blue flower in my garden, this would be it.

The Root of The Matter

2009-05-27T08:05:00.000-07:00

The other day I was overseeing the installation of a garden surrounding a large swimming pool area complete with fire pit, guesthouse and stone patios. I had redesigned the garden for a client who was unhappy with the planting plan created by his original landscape architect. Instead of my usual landscape contractor, a talented man well acquainted with my views on correct horticultural practices, the client, who’s company owns and manages a number of hotels, asked me to work with a landscaper affiliated with his business.

The plant material consisted of low maintenance perennials including grasses, nepeta, coreopsis, alchemilla, and sedum mixed with landscape roses, hydrangeas, rose of sharon, and other summer blooming shrubs. Once most of the stock was set in place the crew set to work. I soon noticed, however, that many of the plants were installed with the top portion of the roots protruding above the soil line.

This is not the first time that I have encountered this particular approach to planting. And though secretly I often wonder if the shallow holes aren’t simply due to laziness, my concern is always met with the same response. The exposed roots will eventually be covered with mulch.

It’s true that in warmer climes, Southern Florida for example, heavy rains may cause rot and plants are regularly installed with their upper roots below the mulch but above the soil line. Here in the Northeast, however, such practices are a recipe for disaster. For most plants mulch is not a desirable growing medium because it must decompose before its nutrients are accessible to feeding roots. Even more worrisome is the fact that mulch spread over the garden in the spring generally breaks down during the summer months. By the time winter arrives the upper roots and crowns are exposed to the elements and cycles of freezing and thawing that may lift plants even further out of the ground.

Mulch and soil are not interchangeable. As a rule roots belong in the ground. Mulch, like icing on a cake, is spread over the soil’s surface. In the case of shrub roses I go a step further and plant the root ball three to four inches lower than the soil line in the pot. I have found that, even after a harsh winter this encourages new growth to re-sprout from below the ground. (Azaleas, Rhododendrons, and Mountain Laurel are an exception to this rule. They actually do benefit from having an inch or so of their roots left above the soil’s surface. It is important, though, to make sure that these exposed roots are covered with a thick layer of mulch in the fall.)

Here in Seekonk, with the exception of a pair of abnormally hot days, May has been uncharacteristically cool and wet. The flowering of the azaleas in my Blue & White garden generally marks the peak of the spring season. This year, due to the unconventional weather patterns, their blooming coincided with my white tree peony, the wisteria, the dogwoods, the lilacs, and the last of the tulips, all of which combined to create a particularly lovely display.

The vine growing on the arbor is Actinidia Kolomikta, a woody climber with small white flowers and showy leaves that flush white and pink as the season progresses.

When I first planted the azaleas to anchor the corners of the lily pond they were neat round balls. Ten years have passed and their shape has become somewhat rangy. Last year I toyed with the idea of pruning them to create a more formal look. Azaleas and most spring flowering shrubs should be trimmed as soon as they finish blooming. I think, though, that I will leave them on the wild side for the time being.

There isn't much blooming in the hot-colored garden at the moment, but the contrasting mix of red and gold leaves creates a burst of color that renders flowers almost unnecessary.

Recently, I did a consultation for a frustrated client who was having a problem with a wet back yard. Most of the plant material that her original designer had selected was doing poorly or had died. My pond is proof that there is no shortage of wonderful plants that thrive in damp or even muddy soil.

For gardeners who enjoy fantasy fiction my first novel, LOST SKY, will be published in 2010.

Happy Gardening.

Early May In The Garden

2009-05-10T12:49:00.001-07:00

In Seekonk the beginning of May has been gray and rainy. And though the constant rain has wreaked havoc with my professional schedule,the gardens here are looking particularly lush. The farm pond in particular, now in it's second year, has filled in beautifully.

I'm particularly pleased with this combination of Hosta "Sum & Substance", Primula Japonica "Apple Blossom",Iris Pseudacorus Variegatus (variegated yellow flag iris), and the Rheum Palmatum, which since my last posting has become simply enormous.

I'm also enjoying the dark blue flowers of Camassia, a bulb I mentioned in my last post, backed by the red toned leaves of Ligularia "Desdemona", and the green and gold foliage of Glyceria Maxima "Variegata", though the latter's invasive tendencies have made it a challenge to contain.

The blue and white garden always looks lovely this time of year. The last of the tulips are still holding on and the azaleas, white wisteria, and polemonium are just about to burst into bloom.

Even though I spend hours every Spring making sure that the bark-mulch walkways are perfectly straight, I encourage the plantings to spill out of the beds, softening their contours. I find that people often shy away from designs based on squares or rectangles, fearing that straight lines and right angles will appear rigid and uninviting. I would argue, however, that a precise geometry can provide a particularly flattering foil for lush plantings.

By the way, did you know that you can enlarge the individual pictures by clicking on them.?

Happy Mother's Day :-)

Spring Bulbs

2009-05-01T12:34:00.000-07:00

On any given October weekend I can usually be found kneeling in the garden planting spring flowering bulbs. Since purchasing my property in 1998, I’ve planted somewhere between five hundred and thousand annually. At a dinner party a number of years ago, after I announced that my substantial bulb order had just arrived, my friends eyed me with pitying looks. Well suffice it to say, no one pities me now.

Over the years my daffodils have multiplied to form luxurious clumps, as have the crocus, erythronium, scilla, snowdrops, leucojum, allium, lilies, anemones and camassia. Here in the northeast tulips must be replaced every few years to ensure substantial blooms. Though this might be considered a deterrent, it affords me the opportunity to try new colors and varieties, much in the way I add annuals to the garden each summer.

Admittedly, planting bulbs can become a tiresome chore if the soil is rocky or composed of heavy clay. Luckily my property was once a farm. The soil here is every gardener’s dream, two feet of loam covering a base of golden sand. For those so inclined there are, of course, a variety of tools to expedite the planting process; bulb augers attached to electric drills, manual bulb planters that use foot power to remove a plug of earth, bulb dibbles, etc. However, I find the constant standing up and kneeling down tiresome. Instead, I prefer getting on my knees and digging individual holes with a trowel. Though, I’ll admit that when I planted daffodils in my field, I used a shovel to prepare holes large enough to accommodate a dozen bulbs at a time.

If planted judiciously, it’s possible to have bulbs in flower from late February until June. If Asiatic, oriental and the new orienpet lilies are included in the mix, the bloom season continues throughout the summer. Sadly, for the past few years the red lily beetle has been wreaking havoc with my lilies and I probably won’t be planting more this fall. When selecting bulbs the choices are infinite. Daffodils (also known as Narcissus) come in countless sizes and flower forms. In my front garden I’ve concentrated on pink-cupped daffodils. The hot colored garden is planted with deep yellows and oranges, and the blue and white garden has an assortment of white narcissus.

Generally, I avoid purchasing mixed assortments of bulbs, preferring large quantities of a single variety. I start by selecting one early and one late blooming daffodil, each of which I pair with an early and late flowering tulip. This ensures that I have a long period of spring color. For an earlier start to the season I add species and large cupped crocus, but there are a host of other choices as well. I’ve ordered many of my bulbs from the John Scheepers Bulb Company, www.johnscheepers.com. Their catalogue is illustrated with beautiful color photographs, the pricing is reasonable, and the quality reliable.

For the most part spring bulbs prefer full sun and well-drained soil, though there are a few exceptions. Cammassia and leucojum enjoy a damp site and I’ve planted them around the farm pond. Many of the smaller bulbs like scillas and chionodoxas prefer the shade of deciduous trees. As a rule, I find that flowering bulbs show to best effect when planted in clumps of a dozen or more so don’t hesitate to purchase them in large quantities.

When you finish reading this post, do yourself a favor and write a reminder on your calendar to order bulbs this September. You’ll thank me next spring.

Some Like It Potted

2009-04-15T12:18:00.000-07:00

As the weather warms, many gardeners focus their attention on creating colorful displays in pots, window boxes, and other planters. Indeed, for city dwellers or those who live in apartments, containers may provide the only outlet for their horticultural passions. When it comes to selecting outdoor containers, I generally operate under two assumptions; bigger is better and less is more. Small pots have numerous disadvantages. In the heat of the summer they dry out quickly, making it almost impossible to keep up with watering. They also limit the choice of plant material and thus the potential impact of any given composition.

For the purist faux containers will probably always be unacceptable. But for those who would rather not lug heavy stone urns into the garage every winter or for whom budgetary restrictions prohibit purchasing wrought iron, I find fiberglass imitations to be every bit as satisfactory. In recent years the introduction of fiberglass and plastic simulations of stone, clay, and iron has produced a wide selection of lightweight and frost resistant alternatives. The quality of these reproductions has arguably rendered the originals functionally obsolete.

Last fall, an interior designer, who was relocating to Palm Beach, generously gave me two enormous, ornate urns that were copied from a pair found at an English manor house. Because they are made of fiberglass-reinforced clay, I can leave them outside all winter. Even without plantings they add a pleasing sculptural element to the field and garden.

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As with the garden proper, the success of a planter is largely dependent on the quality of the soil one uses. Container plants tend to be heavy feeders. Recently, potting soil manufactures have taken the guesswork out of this problem by adding time-released fertilizers to their products. Many claim to feed for up to three months. Ever the cynic, after searching for a date on the package, I found myself wondering “three months from when”? If in doubt, water regularly with a diluted liquid fertilizer.

Choosing plants for your containers has become more interesting in recent years. Many nurseries and box stores now carry a wonderful selection of annuals and tropicals for both sun and shade. When assembling your own compositions, however, don’t be led astray by the luscious photographs in many of today’s gardening magazines. Though it requires a skilled eye, it isn’t difficult to make a pot look beautiful for a photo shoot. I always wonder how these artful arrangements will look in a week or so when the delphiniums or other perennial showstoppers have finished blooming. In reality many of these designs are nothing more than glorified flower arrangements. Unless you plan on reworking your pots every few weeks, I would avoid using such photos as a template.

In general, I advocate a simple approach to selecting plant material for containers. Most importantly, I choose specimens that will provide at least three months of flower or foliage impact. Because most plants that tolerate cool weather flounder in the summer heat, I redo my urns three times a year. Here in the Northeast the first planting takes place in early April, the second after the fourth of July, and the third before Halloween. When planting a large urn for the summer months, I usually build the design around a tall, central focal point, often tree formed or topiaried. Hibiscus and Oleander are good choices, but there are many others as well. I surround this central element with mid-height flowering plants, usually restricting my choice to two varieties, perhaps lantana and dwarf dahlias. Finally, I add trailing plants like scaevola , ivy leaved geranium, and helichrysum to soften the edges of the container. As with a garden, I always consider color scheme before making my final choices.

The urn pictured at the top of this page, which I planted for a client last week, is filled with blue pansies, pale whitish-pink osteospermum and a single gold sword yucca, all of which can tolerate light frost. The yucca, which is hardy, can be transplanted to the garden if I choose to replace it in the summer. While many garden catalogues suggest using dwarf flowering shrubs in containers, I usually avoid hardy shrubs and perennials because for the most part their season of bloom is simply too short. On the other hand, one of the great advantages to planting urns is that it’s easy to empty the container and start from scratch.

Here in Seekonk, the gardens are really getting underway.

Every fall I plant a few hundred daffodil bulbs so that I can enjoy the flowers in the garden and still have enough to cut a few for the house.

I was most excited to see that the Rheum Palmatum var Tanguticum that I planted near the pond made it through its first winter. This plant, which is an ornamental rhubarb, has enormous leaves with a beautiful red reverse. I thought it would look particularly striking reflected in the water and am looking forward to seeing it reach it's full size this season.

Happy Spring!

The Color Wheel Goes Round And Round

2009-04-04T12:48:00.000-07:00

A number of years ago a client asked me to design a large perennial border at her home in Darien, Connecticut. While there was nothing unusual about her request, I was somewhat taken aback by her choice of color scheme. The client, a prominent New York physician with very particular taste, indicated that her garden should be composed of exclusively red and yellow flowers. This was in the mid-90’s and at the time I was designing in mostly pinks, whites, blues, and soft yellows. Only rarely did I incorporate reds or oranges and then purely for shock value. In fact most well known gardening catalogues like White Flower Farm featured predominately pastel hues. This of course predated the resurgence of interest in tropical plants like dahlias and cannas, most of which had fallen out of fashion following the Victorian era.

Always up for a challenge, I set to work on my client’s garden. With her approval I expanded the palette somewhat, eventually incorporating orange and dark purple. And in addition to flowering plants, I added a number of species with brightly colored foliage, including a low hedge comprised of alternating groups of dwarf, red and yellow leaved barberry (a plant that unfortunately is now listed as an invasive). To my surprise I was exceedingly pleased with the outcome. So much so, in fact, that some years later I installed the hot colored garden at my home here in Seekonk.

I realized in the course of designing the Darien garden, and in subsequent years of practice and observation, that the relative success of a design is not necessarily dependent on the color scheme one chooses. After all, color preference is decidedly subjective. It is crucial, however, to consciously decide on a color scheme and adhere to that selection. And while there are many rules, color wheels etc. that may be used as a guide, the truth is that almost any number of colors can be combined successfully. Lately I’ve been fantasizing about creating an orange and magenta garden, but haven’t found the right location yet.

When it comes to color choice, I often ask my clients to consider the mood they would like to create. Pastels or monochromatic color schemes tend to produce peaceful landscapes. Alternatively, hot or contrasting colors command attention and generate visual excitment. It should come as no surprise that Zen gardens, which are made for meditation, are characteristically devoid of color, relying exclusively on the muted tones of sand and rock.

At my home in Seekonk, I am orchestrating an evolving color scheme. The entry garden is composed of welcoming colors; pale yellows, pinks and blues. On the other side of the house the plantings surprise and titillate with a contrasting palette. Reds, oranges, and yellows dominate and their juxtaposition is visually stimulating. Leaving this burst of color behind, a short flight of stairs leads down to a blue and white garden. Its atmosphere is restful and somehow the colors seem to make the air feel ten degrees cooler. It is here, soothed by the sound of water splashing in the lily pond, that guests tend to gather on hot summer days.

Here in Seekonk the daffodils are just starting to pop and many of the perennials are showing signs of growth. The new beds that lead out into the field are edged and raked smooth in preparation for seeding annuals next month. I've started dividing some of my perennials, the roses are fed and once it stops raining I'll trim the butterfly bushes and caryopteris. Even though I didn't mulch the gardens last fall, so far I haven't noticed any casualties, which is a big relief. The handful of goldfish, that I tossed into the farm pond last spring, have multiplied at an alarming rate and I can only hope that the resident great blue heron decides to dine at my table soon.

Water, Water everywhere....

2009-03-25T06:28:00.000-07:00

In recent years water features have gained popularity in mainstream residential landscaping and rightly so. Almost no other element adds as much sensory pleasure to the outdoor experience. Whether it’s the sparkle of light on its surface or the cooling sound of splashing on a hot summer’s day, nothing else soothes the senses like moving water. Then of course, for the more horticulturally minded, there is a whole range of beautiful aquatic plants and marginals (plants that grow in mud or very shallow water) to choose from.

Here in my Seekonk display gardens, I have two man-made water features. The first, which I installed with the aid of a landscape contractor ten years ago, is a ten by twenty foot rectangular pool. The pool, which is planted with white water lilies, serves as the centerpiece of my Blue and White garden. The coping for this pool is pressure treated lumber capped with boards that I removed from the old paddock fencing that once bisected the property. The second water feature, which I installed last year (also with the help of a landscape contractor), is twenty feet in diameter and roughly circular. Sited on the other side of the house, it is centered in a patch of field in which I had originally planted a number of apple trees. Unfortunately, a few winters ago, all but four of the trees were girdled by voles and subsequently died. I refer to this newer feature as my “farm pond”. My hope is that, as it matures, it will look like one of those marshy wallows found in cow pastures. Unlike the rectangular pond it has no coping. Instead the open expanse of water is surrounded by a shelf of mud, retained with a combination of steel fencing and filter fabric topped with pieces of turf. The pond is set into a slope and, as the grade rises, the soil becomes drier, allowing me to grow a whole range of marginal plants including Japanese iris, a particular favorite.

The current popularity of residential water features may be attributed in part to the availability of inexpensive, preformed, plastic pond liners and sheets of synthetic rubber, which make the construction of backyard ponds both affordable and relatively simple. Unfortunately this ease of installation has led to the proliferation of water features that resemble miniature golf courses follies. On a garden tour a few summers ago I encountered a fifteen-foot naturalistic, rock waterfall in the center of a completely level circular driveway. Now I’ll admit that every garden relies on a bit fantasy. Still, I often wonder, when I come across this type of water feature, if the homeowner finds the effect convincing. And while I certainly understand the appeal of gazing out the window at a babbling brook, the fact is that on a flat, suburban lot it’s practically impossible to create a naturalistic water feature that doesn’t look like a Disney Land exhibit. Even odder are the rock edged, kidney-shaped, prefabricated pools one often finds set in the ground near an otherwise conventional front door. Here again, the incongruous size, shape, and location of the pond are at once peculiar and unconvincing.

This is not to argue that people, who live in a city or the suburbs, should deprive themselves of the joyful sound of splashing water or the allure of water lily blossoms. Instead of constructing an obviously faux steam or waterfall, why not install a water feature that looks unabashedly man-made? Forgo the kidney-shaped liner edged with rocks and build a circular or square pond framed with a brick or bluestone coping. A pump can still be used to create a jet of splashing water. Lilies and other aquatics will grow just as well and the goldfish will never know the difference. In fact, the overall affect will be more believable and therefore more visually satisfying.

On the home front, here in Seekonk the weather is windy and cold. Nevertheless, the crocuses and snowdrops are blooming and the daffodils against the house are about to open. I’ve re-edged and cleaned all of my beds, cutting back the grasses and perennials along with the thyme in the checkerboard patio. I’ve also pruned many of my shrubs and even some of the sturdier roses, though I’m still waiting for warmer weather before I trim the buddleias, hydrangeas, and caryopteris. I’ve also started some annual seeds under grow lights in my basement in hopes that by May 15th they’ll be ready to plant out of doors. Last week the field was cut and, as is always the case in early spring, I’m hopeful that this year the garden will be more beautiful than ever.

Mass Appeal

2009-03-15T14:47:00.000-07:00

The other day I was giving a consultation to a new client, who had questions about the layout of her backyard. As we strolled toward the perimeter of her sizeable property, she paused at a new planting of large rhododendrons and other shrubs that she had moved from the front the house. Her goal, she explained, was to screen out her neighbor’s adjoining yard. I thought her decision was a good one, but questioned the placement of the shrubs. Instead of massing the rhododendrons together, they were spread throughout the bed. The spaces between them were filled with single specimens or pairs of various other smaller bushes. Upon reflection I realized that I often encounter this type of planting. In fact I have dubbed it the “one of these, one of those” approach to landscape design. And while I understand the thought process that leads to such arrangements, the outcome rarely produces either a satisfactory screen or a visually pleasing composition.

With the exception of the Amazonian rainforest, a unique environment in which the diversity of plant species is high but individual density is low, most ecosystems are composed of species growing in large contiguous groups. In Bennington, Vermont for example, the woodland floor is literally carpeted with hundreds of white trillium in the spring. And in the fields of the northeast, swaths of yellow goldenrod herald the onset of fall. Perhaps even more quintessentially autumnal are the stands of brilliantly colored maples, birches, and oaks, their leaves showing to great effect against groves of dark-needled pine. These species occur en masse for one simple reason. Natural resources are limited and rival species must compete with their neighbors for sunlight, water, and nutrients. In cultivation hedging provides an excellent example of this phenomenon. A single hemlock placed in the middle of a yard will eventually become a towering tree with branches that discourage the growth of other plants in their vicinity. A row of small hemlocks, however, planted four feet apart can easily be trained into hedge. Because the hedge is composed of a single species, its members do not adversely compete with each other. Conversely, if a hemlock were planted four feet from a maple, eventually one of the trees would assume dominance to the detriment of the other.

In addition to satisfying cultural requirements and general ease of maintenance, incorporating mass plantings in a residential landscape design is aesthetically advantageous. Undoubtedly, a number of hydrangeas in full bloom have a more dazzling affect than that produced by a single bush. As a component in the landscape, large groupings also create a more restful composition. Plantings comprised entirely of dissimilar species appear busy and visually confusing. This is because, whether consciously or unconsciously, the viewer must continually assess the differences in height, color and texture. That is why rolling fields, which read as a simple sea of green, tend to have a calming effect on the viewer. And why large perennial borders are often seen to best advantage when backed by a hedge, which provides a continuous green foil for the garden’s various colors and textures.

Of course there are times when a lone specimen can be used to great advantage. As a focal point in the landscape, a single tree or shrub captures the viewer’s attention. In a perennial or shrub border a single specimen creates visual excitement. Of course, a planting composed entirely of competing focal elements would be as jarring as a sentence punctuated with too many exclamations points. Likewise, pairs work much in the same way as parentheses. Whether flanking a doorway or the breadth of a property, a pair of identical plants highlights the elements it frames.

Though it maybe challenging to narrow your selection of plant material, particularly when confronted by the range of choices at the local nursery, the next time you are designing a new planting take a cue from nature. Instead of selecting “one of these and one of those”, try incorporating a large mass of a single species.

A Matter Of Proportion

2009-03-05T07:15:00.000-08:00

After a slew of relatively warm days, winter has returned to the northeast with somewhat of a vengeance, burying my newly sprouted crocuses and daffodils beneath six inches of snow. The snowfall has also delayed work on a pair of beds I plan to install here in my display gardens. The beds will flank both sides of a grass path, which leads from a wooden arch to a large urn standing in a field that abuts the wildlife sanctuary. I haven’t yet decided what to plant in these beds, though peonies are on the top of my list. This spring I will probably fill them with annuals grown from seed, which I’ll plant directly in the ground. Masses of Zinnias, Sunflowers, and Cosmos will provide plenty of cut flowers for the house this summer, while affording me the benefit of another season to make a more permanent choice.

The other day, as I was standing in the field deciding on the exact width and length of my new beds, I recalled a conversation I often have with new clients. The topic concerned the layout of foundation beds, the planting area that customarily frames the façade of the house. In truth, more often then not, I find that most foundation beds are both oddly shaped and inappropriately proportioned. Invariably these beds are too narrow. Moreover, their confines are crowded with ungainly shrubs that have been ruthlessly pruned in an attempt to keep their branches within bounds. Trees and shrubs, that were originally planted to create a flattering frame, block windows and conceal architectural details, making the house appear smaller and less welcoming.

Of course there are no set rules. The width of foundation beds ultimately depends on the size of the house and the yard. For most residential properties, however, I find that a ratio of one-third bed to two-thirds lawn is generally a good starting point. To further ensure that that the foundation beds are large enough, it is helpful to allow room for two or more tiers of plantings. The back tier might include evergreens to provide year-round interest. The middle tier could contain groupings of lower, flowering shrubs to add bursts of seasonal color. If there is still space, a front tier might be planted with low-growing ground covers to border the lawn.

Allotting on average four to six feet for each of these tiers requires a bed that measures at least 12 feet deep. Even this depth, however, might prove to be to narrow. Often a width of eighteen to twenty feet is more suitable if the house and property are large. And if flowering trees or evergreens are used to accent the corners of the house, they should be spaced to ensure that, as they mature, their branches won’t encroach on the house. Installing foundation plantings should make your home seem larger and more gracious. Trees or shrubs that hide portions of the facade will have the opposite effect.

Equally important when laying out your beds is determining their shape. In my experience many homes are framed by beds that curve about the property with no apparent rhyme or reason. In fact, cutting a bed actually creates two shapes, the silhouette of the bed and the resulting outline of the lawn. In many cases I find that, while the footprint of the beds might seem reasonable, the resulting lawn area is rather peculiar, as if someone had arbitrarily dropped a puzzle piece on the ground and filled it with grass. If after laying out the beds, the resulting lawn is not a pleasant shape, the overall affect won’t be pleasing.

In general, a few gracefully proportioned arcs are more visually satisfying than a number of random crenulations. As a rule of thumb, the curves of the beds should be easy to follow with a conventional lawn mower. If they aren’t, the curves are probably too numerous or tight. Once the layout of the beds is finalized, it’s time to focus on plant selection, but more on that topic another time….

Compositionally Speaking

2009-02-19T12:34:00.000-08:00

Merce Cunningham, the renowned twentieth century choreographer, famously compared his dancers to tubes of paint. While this comparison may not have flattered the egos of his company members, it served to clearly illustrate his philosophy regarding composition. His goal was to focus the audience’s attention on his choreography, not on the personalities of the individual dancers. Many a garden could benefit from the application of similar principles.

If we take our clues from nature, it is not usually the individual elements, but rather the overall composition that creates an inspiring visual experience. The viewer takes pleasure from the pale green of rolling fields backed by a darker mass of undulating forest, not from concentrating on a patch of grass or a single tree. It is the effect in its entirety that creates a pleasing landscape, not the analysis of its disparate elements. Of course, few of us have the luxury of working on such a grand scale. Nevertheless, the same principles can be applied on the residential level. And as with a dance, the outcome is more satisfying when the stage isn’t cluttered with competing soloists.

I often find myself disappointed by the photos of display gardens presented in seed catalogues. Though I might be impressed by the health and size of the plants, I’m inevitably disenchanted with the composition. Twenty different types of dahlias in full bloom make an impressive sight, but they might just as well be stalks of corn or some other crop. It is the judicious selection and arrangement of plants that make for a visually pleasing garden, not merely the size and quantity of the flowers. When designing a landscape, I consider what the various elements will contribute to the composition as a whole, instead of allowing myself to be charmed and distracted by their individual characteristics.

Of course, it is hard to deny that certain plants are natural scene-stealers. Delphiniums and Roses are arguably the highlight of my June garden. Still, their colors and forms are selected to enhance rather than detract from the impact of the garden’s design. Were this not the case, I’d probably be tempted to bring the flowers inside and enjoy them in a vase. The luxury of having a cutting garden is that it allows one to grow flowers like vegetables, as a crop to be harvested, but more on that topic another time.

This spring, as you make your first foray to the local nursery, take a moment to consider whether the plants that have caught your eye are likely to harmonize with your existing design. Try to avoid impulsively purchasing plants simply because they look pretty in their pots. Ask yourself if your choices will contribute to your overall composition or if your selections are likely to remain a collection of soloists vying for your attention. If the latter, perhaps some editing is in order.

On the home front it’s snowing here again. …..sigh!

A Year In The Garden, First Installment

2009-02-13T15:27:00.000-08:00

Welcome to the launch of my blog, A Year In The Garden.

For the past ten years I have been designing and cultivating the display gardens here at my home in Seekonk, MA. They have served both as a resource for my clients and a personal, creative outlet. There have been many successes and a few failures. But without exception, I have relished the opportunity to explore new ideas and the chance to experiment with a wide variety of ornamental plants. In many ways my property is like a laboratory and much of the knowledge I have gathered here has made its way into lectures and designs for my clients.

In the coming weeks and months I hope to use this forum as a written and pictorial diary of my gardens here in Seekonk. I also plan to share design ideas, plant suggestions, horticultural tips, and a range of do’s and don’ts that might help you, the reader, avoid many of the mistakes that I commonly encounter when first visiting my client’s homes. My posts will be inspired by what is currently taking place in my garden so, if you live in the northeast, you will probably find them timely.

Here in Southern New England we have been blessed with snow cover since December. Sheltered from the road, the snow pack at my house has stayed fresh and white making this one of the prettiest winters that I can remember. In addition to its aesthetic value, the snow has been a wonderful insulator, protecting my plants from harsh winds, and severe drops in temperature. Now that it has started to warm a bit, I’m anxious to get outside. Yesterday, I started cutting down the grasses that I left standing last fall and the catmint (nepeta) that kept the leaves from blowing into the front garden. In the coming days, as the weather allows, I’ll begin trimming some of my evergreens, and cutting back the long stems on my smoke bush (Cotinus coggygria ) and trumpet vine (Campsis radicans).

This time of year it’s fun to leaf through the many garden catalogs that continually fill my mailbox, but I have learned to exercise restraint. In general I never order anything from a catalog that I can buy from a local nursery. Mail order plants tend to be very small and hardly worth the money when compared to the stock one can purchase locally for the same price. After many disappointments, I’ve made it a rule to order only bulbs (tulips, daffodils, lilies etc) and tubers like dahlias. Though hope springs eternal and even I have been known to throw caution to the wind when a particularly tempting catalogue crosses my path. This year I ordered a few plants from Bluestone Perennials and I’ll be curious to see what arrives at my door.

If you do decide to order perennials or shrubs from a catalogue, I suggest you request a specific delivery date. There’s nothing more frustrating than having plants arrive when the ground is still frozen. I’m in a particularly cold spot and prefer that my hardy plants don’t arrive before the end of April. Dahlia tubers can’t be planted here before mid- May so I request a delivery accordingly. Most annuals and half-hardy perennials won’t put on much growth until the soil really warms up so there is no point in having them suffer through the cool nights of late Spring. There are of course some exceptions, but more on those another time…..