This post feels like self-flagellation. I thought several times about whether or not to show some of these photos. But here they are, in all their unpleasantness, the garden in half-burned disarray.
In another week or two the view will be much better. Empty, at least. The plants that didn't burn I'll chop down next weekend.
We also finished much of the work reconstructing the bed for the new pool; the way forward seems clear.
First, we rebuilt the low stone wall around the pool area, making it rectangular rather than curved. It now acts as a visual extension of the existing stone wall around the base of the house, relating the new pool surroundings to the house--using visually connecting rectangles as shown below. The paver path on the left is temporary; I just threw them down so I could walk across the mud. That's work for another day.
Another view below, showing how the pool area links to the house and its argillite stone chimney.
Details below show how the two stone wall segments look together ...
And three more views of the rectangular structure holding the pool ...
From a distance, the pool area almost disappears. When closely planted, as I intend, it will be private, almost invisible. This view is from a partially burned center area of the garden. Yes, ugly.
Below is an existing path. I may use something similar for the approach to the pool area. I want it to be narrow, so visitors enter one at a time. But this is only one option.
I burned this area too. Miscanthus giganteus (left) does not burn even when extremely dry. Some of the smaller Miscanthus behind burned incompletely. Too much moisture.
My preference would be to have waited another month or two, so I'd have some garden left to see. But spring seemed to be coming much too early.
I jumped the gun. I'd hoped for cold weather and I got it. It's 9 degrees tonight.
I think I should have waited to burn ... but the garden is resilient.
Hi James,
ReplyDeleteWell, if the way forward seem clear, then I'll take that as good news. Clearly, your first attempt just didn't sit well with you.
I was looking for a good segue...don't have one...but I think you'd find much to enjoy in the Gerhard Richter documentary, "Gerhard Richter: Painting". At one point he speaks about beginning a painting with the freedom of a mark and how everything else is a reaction to that mark...and the next...and he becomes increasingly constrained and finally knows that he is finished when he can see no more marks that need to be made, or corrected, or fixed. So...you make a mark and then you react to it...
He also spoke about the inadequacy of using the art of language to try to communicate about the art of painting. I feel that that's what you were saying in your last post/comments.
--Emily
Emily,
DeleteI saw a brief excerpt from the documentary after you pointed me to it. I see it's on Netflix and will watch it tonight. In the excerpt Richter said, "When I first approach a canvas, I can smear anything I want on it. Then there is a condition I must react to. By changing it or destroying it." I see the analogy you're making. The first thing you do doesn't have to be perfect, or ever right. You do something. You look at it and change it. Gardening isn't painting, but it is certainly similar in this way: there is a process of change that proceeds over time. A garden structure does not have to be like those "perfect" structures we see in magazines in expensive gardens for the wealthy by Tom Stuart-Smith or Luciano Giubbilei or Christopher Bradley-Hole. It can be imperfect in geometry or workmanship, and still become a living, meaningful part of the garden. I'm thinking of the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi, in which the old, worn object marked by human use over time becomes valued for those very qualities. I'm not saying this new pool area is Japanese in inspiration or suggestive of Japanese design, but that its imperfections may become of value in the garden as it ages and changes. It also pleases me to hold in my mind a connection with the architect and owners who built this house (another wabi-sabi concept). I have many sets of their architectural plans with their handwriting indicating thoughts for new possibilities and changes as they thought about how the house would be built. They loved and cared for this place, and we are fortunate enough to have inherited use of it for a while. They decided to build this simple rectangular structure, to make a fireplace and towering chimney of native stone, to mount the house high up on an artificial hillock to gain a view of the fields and hills beyond (now mostly lost). So by adding to that original structure of stone and rectangles, 48 years later, we're doing something to bring their love and caring with us into the present. I also recognize that a bungled job is a bungled job, regardless of intent. So we'll see what results next summer. Thanks for the stimulating comment.
Hello James,
ReplyDeleteI rather like the charred black of the garden. It echoes the lovely dark reflections from your pool. Well done.
Chatting with gardeners in South Africa (where I was on a walking holiday) made me realize how happy I am to have six months of dormancy in my garden. Their year-round growing season gave them a rather desperate look, "there's always something to do!" was the complaint. Enjoy the winter freeze. warmly, Ross
Hello, Ross -
DeleteWelcome back from South Africa. I'd love to see the fynbos and wish you were a camera user.
I hope to make the garden blacker. Cut the remaining plants, pile them up, then make them burn. Then I'll have a blacker garden for two weeks. A layer of snow will clean it up for spring.
Dormancy? Are you sure? I've found plants sending out new shoots all over the garden, but perhaps this extremely cold spell will put the brakes on that.
Tom Stuart-Smith is speaking at NYBG next Thursday if you're interested, and in town.
dormant? Time out to plan! We are on life support watering schedules. And also looking at volunteers for removing, as their life support demands go too far.
DeleteDiana,
DeleteWe've gotten extremely cold weather, finally, so some time to plan. Problem is that I have plans, need warm weather to start executing them. The ground is now frozed solid after several nights with single degree temps.
I'm a bit farther south than you are (zone 7a - northern VA) but it doesn't feel like spring is making an early show. I have basal growth but only on plants that never go completely dormant.
ReplyDeleteI've never heard of anyone burning their garden. My brother and I once set a couch on fire as bored kids but that feels quite different. ;o) Do you only burn the grasses or do you also burn perennials?
I forgot to mention that there was another important reason for burning early: voles. Last year I found considerable vole damage to roots of plants. I was reminded in reading Tom Stuart-Smith's The Barn Garden that bruning removed the cover and protection for voles, exposing them to predators and the weather.
DeleteBurning is common for prairie style plantings, which my garden is an example of, and you can burn perennials as well as grasses. The native Americans burned to clear land, and to improve its utility for grazing, thus the prairies of the Great Plains. However, burning a garden can be dangerous and should never be done in a populated area or where fire can easily spread. I do not recommend you do it.
I like how the area around the reflecting pool is coming on.
ReplyDeleteI thought of you yesterday when I considered by collapsed Calamagrostis Overdam crusted in snow. I wondered if your garden often got lots of snow and how your grasses coped
When we get heavy snow, most of the grasses are flattened, but they often right themselves if the snow melts relatively quickly. We had almost no snow last year, except for a heavy wet snow in October (very early here) the did indeed flatten most of the garden for the rest of the season. You seem to be having more snow than usual this year (in the UK).
DeleteJill Nooney again.
ReplyDeleteI think the pool looks happy embedded in the geometry of its cousins, much more settled in. You must be pleased. Now on to solving the next conundrum.
Thanks for the question about orthogonals, which opened a door. That made me realize this could be a continuation of the structures already established by the stone chimney, the house, the existing wall. I'm even considering adding a low edging and retaining wall at the top of the bank to further anchor the pool within the structural layers immediately surrounding the house. Well, if there is time and money, amid all the other projects.
DeleteI love the new pool. I agree with Ross, I rather like the starkness of the burnt areas. I have a print of Andrew Wyeth's Pennsylvania Landscape (http://www.andrewwyeth.org/Pennsylvania-Landscape.jsp), which I love, but which my children say is the most depressing picture they have ever seen. These pictures of your garden remind me of the colours in that.
ReplyDeleteI worked the last two days doing more cutting and burning. Don't get me wrong. I worked only two hours a day! I don't mind the black, but flattening more of the garden actually makes it a pleasure, especially with the long shadows of a late afternoon. I'd say that Andrew Wyeth print captures something of the woods around here.
DeletePre-emptive culling is one of the unpleasant realities of dealing with frost and colder weather. The photo of the burned garden is harrowing. These photos should seem much less like self-flagellation and much more like history as it is displaced. I would appreciate seeing photos in a few months to see the contrast.
ReplyDeleteIt's really a natural process, one that has occurred for centuries on the American prairies. Look at the regrown garden in the next few weeks. But to do that, go to my new incarnation of this blog at www.federaltwist.com. Because of problems with this Blogspot blog, I moved to WordPress at the new address.
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