Day of The Dahlia

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

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

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

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!

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

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

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 :-)