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 :-)

Spring Bulbs

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

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

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.