Garden changes, big and small

Our own gardens change every year, but usually the changes are small, and we see the gradual shift every day, so it’s not noticeable.  We can look back in photos and think “how small that maple was when we first planted it, and look how it’s grown”, or “that’s right, we had grass there before the patio.”

When we’re absent from a garden for a year or more, the change seems sudden

2008

 to us.  And sometimes the change was sudden and we see the results.  Last year, we took our Charleston tour group to Middleton Place, and I took a photo of their old live oak (Quercus virginiana).  This year, we visited again and saw the tree much changed. Still lots of Spanish moss

2009

 dripping from its arms, but one huge branch had been lost, and the difference was remarkable.

 

In 2006, we visited Inverewe in Scotland, just a year after a huge wind storm had taken out many of the trees that Osgood Mackenzie planted soon after he acquired the land in 1863.  Inverewe remains an impressive garden, and we loved the woodland walk as much as the protected walled garden down by the sea.

Those gardens changed because of cataclysmic events; although she isn’t a hurricane, Helen Dillon changes her Dublin garden almost as swiftly.

The first photos I ever saw of her garden showed a long grassy corridor with dense plantings all round.  By the time we took our tour group there in 2004, the grass was gone, replaced by a formal pool, which perfectly sets off the garden.

I meet up with Helen occasionally where we are both speaking, and every time I see her, something has changed in the garden.  She ripped out the red border, and now she’s changed the front entrance terrace into a birch grove.

We’ll take our group to Helen’s garden on next summer’s tour, and who knows what we’ll find.  Change, for sure – change is the norm, in gardening.

This Just In

A short and delayed note to add to “Gardening Isn’t Going Away”.  The Northwest Flower & Garden Show posted a 3-percent increase in attendance this year.  Yes, yes, I know what you’re saying: owner Duane Kelly said this would be the last one, so more people came to see.  But if they didn’t care about gardening, why would that make a difference?  I don’t care for basketball, so I didn’t go see the Sonics play when they were up for sale just because they might leave town.

            And, the Philadelphia Flower Show welcomed 251,000 visitors – not a record itself, except for one-day attendance on March 7 when 48,000 people were there.  Gardening on the decline?  Apparently not.

            I mentioned Great Dixter in the earlier post, and Christopher Lloyd’s love of teaching others about plants and gardens, as well as learning more himself.  I contacted the garden to find out about their attendance, and the reply was that 2008 attendance was “exceptionally good” at 44,882.

It looks like the San Francisco Flower & Garden Show is sold; so who would buy a business if its future didn’t look bright (besides the government)?

 

The Myth of the Outward-facing Bud

I pruned the roses on Friday – a lovely, sunny dry day that appeared like a miracle between snowstorms.  Enough of this snow in Seattle!

            As I pruned, I looked for the outward-facing bud that we are told to find and prune above.  I don’t think they exist.  Is this some joke the roses are playing on us?  Buds face inward, off to awkward angles on the side, but I never see any that face outward.  As I tend to be fairly fierce in my rose pruning, I suppose it doesn’t really matter.  After a while I don’t care what kind of bud is or isn’t there, my Felcos go to work.

            In England, land of “rose replant disease”, they’re just as likely to rip the whole rose garden out as to prune carefully (or not) each year.  I don’t really understand what rose replant disease is, but I believe it has something to do with monoculture – those rose-bush ghettos, where a confetti mix of colors are planted for display, must be ripe for an attack of some fungus or another.  I love rose gardens for their historical interest, but it isn’t something I’m going to copy in my garden.  I’m not a rosarian, just a gardener.

            Last time we were at Hever Castle, they had just replanted the rose garden, and as it was May, there was little to see.  Against the wall, however, was a ‘Maigold’ climber in bloom – it’s practically the only rose we see blooming in England in May.  In fact one May, we visited Hodges Barn near Tetbury – a lovely place where Amanda Hornby showed us around her garden.  The house (originally a dovecote) was surrounded by brick walls that had rambling roses carefully pegged down, and the ramblers were full of buds, but not a flower was open.

            When pruning ramblers and climbers, you never have to worry about outward-facing buds.  Instead, if you secure the long, wild stems horizontally (pegged on a brick wall at Hodges Barn), the roses send up loads of flowers all along.  It’s a spectacular show.

Gardening isn’t going away

I don’t know what all the fuss is about; gardening isn’t going to disappear, even though garden writers seem to be wringing their hands over the prospect.  I believe that there are gateway plants, and we are at the tip of a new gardening cycle.  Plant a potato today, and tomorrow it will be an aster, the next day a hydrangea after that a paperbark maple.  Do you think that Edwin Lutyens and Gertrude Jekyll said, “Oh dear, gardening is on the decline, so let’s just not talk about lavender anymore.”?  Did Christopher Lloyd care that you don’t know what an Aeonium is?

            OK, he probably did care, because he was a good garden educator, witty and opinionated.  I still pick up his books and begin to read them, often going over the same passages again and again.  My favorites are The Well-Tempered Garden, Christopher Lloyd’s Garden Flowers and, with Beth Chatto, Dear Friend and Gardener.  His home and garden, Great Dixter, are open to the public, so although he died a few years ago, he’s still teaching us to be daring in the garden.

            Geoffrey Smith, a UK gardener, writer and broadcaster, just died last week, and I include him here when talking about how gardening will continue.  I just listened to Friday’s broadcast of Gardeners’ Question Time on BBC Radio 4 and they included a tribute to Geoffrey Smith.  I love his Yorkshire accent, and appreciate his ability to cut to the chase.  Good writers and speakers are good, no matter if their topic is gardening or politics (although given the choice, gardening is much more interesting to read about).

            Gardeners and gardens abide.

Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?

The Missouri Botanical Garden announced the spring installation of a floral clock to mark the garden’s 150^th birthday and as a nod to the St. Louis World’s Fair of 1904.  The flowers on the 20-foot-diameter display will be changed out seasonally from its debut in May until October, and each season’s arrangement will use up to 8,000 plants.

            Floral clocks tell time — since their popularity arose in the early 20^th century this has been mechanical, although Linnaeus devised a clock that told time by the opening of flowers.  I can’t imagine trying to find the right mix of flowers to open at each hour of the day.  (A scientific look at Linnaeus and his floral clock can be found from the Linnean Society).

            At the Missouri Botanical Garden, ever mindful these days of our energy usage, a small solar panel will be set up to run the clock.  Even better than the hands turning, will be the electric cuckoo that will mark the quarter hours.  Emerging from its house will not be a cuckoo, though — it will be a bluebird.  Even better, in July, when St. Louis hosts the All-Star game, the bluebird will be replaced by a cardinal.  Go Cards!

            What a fine combination of horticulture, history and civic pride.  All this from a place that is already well known for its fabulous online plant database.  Good on you, Missouri Botanical Garden!

The Once and Future Flower Show

Five days of the Northwest Flower & Garden Show, here and gone.  Attendance seemed to be up — many gardeners thinking that this might be the last show they’ll see, because Duane Kelly announced he will close this and the San Francisco show if he doesn’t find a buyer.

Still, spirits and hopes were high.  Duane holds firm in his belief that this is a garden show, and so will not sell to those interested parties who would turn the floor of the garden displays into booths for bathroom tiles, double-pane windows and roofers.  Sorry, you all have your place, but it’s not here.

Memories of past shows filled conversations.  I talked with John Christianson, owner of Christianson’s Nursery in Mount Vernon.  John and Toni’s flower show gardens, full of charm, plants and old-fashioned cottage design, top many people’s list of the best displays.  Who could forget Mole’s End?  They are on schedule to build a display for next year’s show.

At a brief tribute to Duane, held on the floor of the show Saturday afternoon, Egon Molbak and Bob Chittock spoke.  Molbak’s sponsored gardens for years, most, if not all, designed by Bob.  I told Egon that my favorite Bob Chittock garden was April in Paris. Although it was several years ago, I can’t forget its impact; it was extravagant, full of flowers, an extreme shot of spring.  Egon said his favorite was Tivoli.  Bob had never been to the gardens and park in Copenhagen, so Egan sent him there in October — even without the summer crowds and flowers, he was able to translate the feeling of the fun and the history.

Another favorite of mine, this just a few years ago, was Phil Wood’s fountain on the sky bridge.  It was the perfect Olmsted design, and we could have been in Central Park instead of Seattle.  People were drawn to the feature, and actually laid their picnics all around it.

The show must go on.  We anticipate an announcement from Duane in early spring.

The Gardener’s Society Page

The Arboretum Foundation’s preview party at the Northwest Flower & Garden Show every year brings out the horticultural community to celebrate our passions.  This may be the last show (as we have known it, anyway).  Leighton and I enjoyed talking with Dan Hinkley, Robert Jones, John and Lee Neff (seen here hamming it up for the camera).  Lee was the editor of the Arboretum Bulletin for many years, working with a kind and clear pen.

Bob Lilly and Phil Wood designed this year’s display for the Arboretum; it was based on the Pacific Connections garden at the Arboretum — the show garden is Cascadia, one of five geographic regions from which we draw ornamental plants.  Paige Miller, executive director of the Foundation (seen here with Uncle Bob), gave a brief program and thanked Duane and Alice Kelly for all their years of owning and running the flower show.

In the gardens, we ran into Mary-Kate Mackey, garden writer and educator from Eugene, Alice Doyle, owner of Log House Plants (a fabulous grower/wholesaler of specialty plants), Cameron Scott, owner of Exteriorscapes and also part of a new venture to promote stonework in the garden (his work is fabulous), and Ciscoe Morris.

What’s up at the show? Green roofs, green walls, recycled and “repurposed” materials and lots of winter color from coral bark maples, redtwig dogwood and a red Mustang in the garden designed by Adam Gorski. It’s great fun!

Jay Rayner wrote a piece for The Guardian on the new meal rations for the British military forces. I found the article after hearing him interviewed on PRI’s The World, where he said the food wasn’t bad at all.  It reminded me of what food we encounter when we’re traveling — even if that traveling is to not-so-foreign countries.

Food is memorable because it’s good or bad, or because of the environment in which you ate it.  My dear friend Kathy and I had a lovely picnic lunch on a walk out of Sligo one time.  This was a million years ago, and I’m not sure today if any hotel or guest house would put together such a simple meal:  a flask of tea, cheese sandwiches, some fruit (I think) and a few biscuits.  It was perfect for a walk.

            There was a memorable London meal of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding at a restaurant with a group of college friends when we were on a theatre visit from New Mexico State University (again, ages ago).  It was memorable, because charming John Zwernemann was able to get us extra portions of custard on our trifle.

In Ireland, food taught me how to properly pronounce “Donegal.”  I was staying in a B&B in Galway, I think, and there were a few Brothers staying there, too.  They taught me this fine rhyme:

Where do you come from?
            Donegal

How are your spuds?

            Big and small

How do you eat them?

            Jacket and all

And do they bother you?

            Not at all

A different kind of indoor garden

This is brilliant — someone has invented a moss bathmat.  Little bits of hummocky moss somehow attached to a plastic grid or something.  Here, read about it yourself: 

 

Moss mat 

 

It’s a cushy landing for those wet feet stepping out of the bath or shower.  Moss is quite fashionable now in the garden, maybe because we now it’s too difficult to get rid of.  Indoors, we could tend our own mossy patch.

 

The inventor is looking for backing for the moss bathmat, and I believe there should be someone in Washington State to help out here — we must be the moss capital of the country.  What about the town of Mossy Rock?  The product could be called Mossy Mat.  Seattle’s got those silly t-shirts about the rain festival, how about someone at the Pike Place Market selling tourists a piece of the Northwest to take home?  You’d never forget to water it. 

Everybody likes a bit of mustard, Richard

Two posts in one day!  Still, I couldn’t help but send you to this hilarious complaint letter sent to Virgin Airlines (and printed in the Daily Telegraph):

 

www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/travelnews/4344890/Virgin-the-worlds-best-passenger-complaint-letter.html