Garden Diary: Closing the ground

An open scar in the woodland garden marks the spot where I stored piles of cedar chips, now gone, left from clearing  the land in the spring of 2005. Behind those piles is the utility and composting area. This place is one of the first you see on entering the woodland so I'm starting a restoration program to hide the composting area and close up this blot on the landscape. The soil is compacted, full of tree roots and stone. I have no idea what years of stored cedar chips may have done to the soil chemically and biologically.

On walking through the garden gate, the first thing the eye goes to is the scene below. The light and open space naturally draws the view there. So far, so good.

The early spring meadow area in the center between the paths is well along now; at least it's green, so I can turn my attention to the right side of the main path, which presents the major problem.

Ground covers are my first concern. On the right side (below), where the neglect is most evident, Hosta 'Francis Williams', Ajuga 'Caitlan's Giant', Spodiopogon sibiricus (hidden by the hostas), and Sweet woodruff are successfully negotiating the thin, heavy, wet soil.

And just past the "scar," another colony of Sweet woodruff is doing its thing. But looking slightly back to the right ...

... is the scar itself. Perhaps "scar" is too harsh a word. This is not an unacceptable floor for a woodland, but my preference is for a tapestry like groundcover of carex, pulmonaria, fern, epimedium, and hellebore. A few plants of Aster divaricatus (Eurybia divaricata) have seeded in from across the path, indicating this may also become a successful addition to the tapestry. I've planted some clump bamboos and hydrangeas in the background to get enough height to hide the composting area, but don't yet know whether they will do well in the conditions offered.

In other parts of the woodland garden I'm trialing other potential ground cover plants. Here Leucothoe auxliaris seems to be making a successful plant life.

And here Mattuecia struthiopteris is spreading into a colony--not as large as this fern usually gets, probably due to the packed clay it's growing in, but it is successfully spreading.

I could go on at length about groundcover plants in other parts of my "impossible" garden, but I don't want to frighten you. More on that later.

Plants for wet clay: Zenobia pulverulenta

Zenobia pulverulenta is a small shrub native primarily to coastal wetland areas of Georgia, North and South Carolina and Virginia. It's a strikingly beautiful plant whose delicately glaucous foliage seems to belie its unsophisticated origin. It prefers rather wet conditions, coming from raised wetland areas, usually underlain by peat, called pocosins. (Pocosin is a native American word meaning "swamp on a hill.")

Foliage color is this plant's main asset. Too bad it's lacking in structure and rather shapeless. It would look much better associated with other plants or a background that offers pleasing contrast or complementary color.

After a few years of growth, this shrub has grown large enough to make a significant visual effect. Zenobia seems to be a rather rare plant in cultivation, and the glaucous form isn't the only one. Some are simply green. I bought two at the Native Plants in the Landscape conference, a well known native plant gathering held annually at Millersville University in Pennsylvania, three or four years ago.

I was uncertain how the plant would fair in my often saturated, wet clay; its natural habitat, which is wet but apparently well drained, very acidic and low in nutrients, is quite different from conditions in my garden. So far my Zenobias appear to be thriving, vigorous, and in pristine condition. Their small, bell-shaped white flowers are borne in profusion in the summer, and the plants are bulking up into admirable specimens.

The lesson, I suppose, is that you can research a plant's origins and native conditions, but you can never successfully predict how well it will adapt to differing conditions in the garden. You just have to make educated guesses, and see what happens. Take a risk. There are serendipitous surprises.

Inside-Outside

Transient phenomenon

Sunset, golden light against a dark gray sky, lasting about 90 seconds, then gone.

Spring walkabout

Til now, posts on these garden walkabouts have only appeared in summer and fall. Spring just wasn't a good time in the garden on Federal Twist. The site is cold and wet, and most of the perennials that thrive in these conditions get a late start. Only this year is the garden beginning to show significant early season interest.

A part of the change is simply maturity. The communities of plants have had a few years to grow together, forming large masses varying subtly in height, texture and color. I've also added shrubs and small trees--while keeping the largest areas open for perennials only, essential for easy planting management--which provide a sense of scale, and a few evergreens, whose dark silhouettes contrast dramatically with the lighter spring greens and golds of the herbaceous perennials.

Right now the morning sun backlights much of the foliage, looking for all the world like fractured stained glass, and the broken light filtering through the partially leafed trees imbues the space with a sense of peace and optimism. The wind gently whispers; humming birds alight in the aged dogwoods that screen the garden view from the house. It's a most pleasant, but of course, transient scene, a momentary Eden which passes quickly enough ...

... passes, for me that is, to the "mechanics" of the garden, for example, structure, contrast in color and form, garden management practices ...

The graveled paths encircling the planted areas, like the dark evergreens, give a visual weight to the garden ... the stone walls, a hard mineral background contrasting with the soft vegetable tissues ...

It's far too early for the pond to be overgrown with vegetation. For a while, the there's a clean edge and the water surface reflects the sky, a distant dogwood (below), or serves as a simple foil for Camassias planted around the pond's perimeter. It's taken three years for these to settle in and get going. Now I see I should plant more, and in other parts of the garden, especially since they echo the form of the hybrid Petasites flower spikes, which are blooming at the same time.

Less photogenic, but essential to understanding another aspect of garden mechanics--the maintenance or management process--are the spreading mats of perennials. Here, an example of matrix planting, Symphyotrichum puniceum (formerly Aster puniceus or Swamp aster) has formed a wide circular mat that out competes many of the less desirable grasses.

And here, large masses of Filipendula rubra 'Venusta', which have been a strong and stable presence for several years now, even though the soil is crowded with a variety of competing plants. If you want to manage large areas rather than "garden" individual plants, you'll have to learn what plants are appropriate to your conditions. That knowledge isn't always easily available, so a willingness to experiment, and to fail, is necessary. I used to have a community of Liatris pyncnostachia mixed in with the Filipendula. It was a stunning combination, but the Liatris gradually succumbed to competitive pressure and has all but disappeared.

"Nature's first green is gold," Robert Frost, that great and cynical observer of Nature, wrote. To build on that golden theme of early spring, I added three Sunburst Honey Locusts (Gleditsia triacanthos 'Sunburst) in the early days of the garden. They've not grown much, but each spring their brilliant foliage beckons like finely hammered artifacts of gold. I don't want them to become large trees; these golden poles are fine.

Then I discovered the wonderful non-native Euphorbia palustris, which I've scattered around to create more pools of golden color, and I may add more. Note here too (below)  the thickly growing mass of violets--functioning here as another important garden management tool--ground cover (matrix planting again).

The more distant view from the raised terrace outside the house shows fine detail to the naked eye but not to the camera. What you do see is the void in the forest in which the garden exists, and that void is a defining characteristic of this garden:  a clearing in the woods, a safe place, though a tentative safety that might vanish in the blink of an eye.

Gardens are like that, constantly changing, threatening loss of control, running away from you if you aren't paying attention.

Spring meadow evolving

The garden on Federal Twist has always been a summer and fall garden--until the last couple of years. I've been making an effort to extend its interest into spring. There will always be a quiet, empty time from the cutting down and burning in early March until the first week of May, but this year, for the first time, I see real potential for developing spring interest too.

One of the signs of this is the evolving shady meadow in the wettest part of my woodland garden at the end of the house. From this distance, you can't tell much is going on, but a closer view reveals an emerging community of plants, some indigenous to this area, some not. I can see the need for stepping stone paths through here for close-up viewing.

Senecio aureus (Golden ragwort) has been on the property since we moved here, so I added more last year. Though it's not a refined plant, it does spread and self-seed, and it adds bright spots of color at this time of year. Later, if the grasses get too high, it takes a high cutting with ease. The yellow also blends well with the dandelion flowers, which I've decided to adopt as wildflowers.

Blue Ajuga is rather prominent at this time of year. It's a legacy of the Howeth's, who built this house in 1965, and had been its only residents until we moved in in early 2005.  It too has spread far and wide, and adds to the weed-suppressing matrix of plants so I'm encouraging it to spread. The white flower appears to be a native wildflower. At first it was to be found only in the wettest areas, but now it too is spreading. It's graceful and quite delicate, easily crushed by wayward steps (thus the need for stepping stones). I wish I could identify it, but I haven't yet discovered its name.

That large plant in the photo above (and larger below) is an Arisaema triphyllum (Jack in the Pulpit), a common wildflower here. It seems to pop up everywhere.

The Galium odoratum (Sweet woodruff) is another legacy plant from the Howeth's. I forms attractive colonies but, considering it has been here for 45 years, it shows no sign of becoming an excessively rampant grower. I added the Pulmonaria 'Samouri' three years ago. It's done so well, I'm adding several new Pulmonarias this year.

Ferns, too, are a natural for this shady, very moist area.

Another view of Ajuga reptans, both blue and white, and a few Tiarella cordifolia. The Ajuga is really only noticeable when in flower in early spring, but the small spires of color are a pleasant addition at this time of year. Here, with Mattuecia struthiopteris.

On the other side of the path through the woodland garden, I apply leaf litter every year. This is a much more "natural" area where, to the present, Podophyllum peltatum thrives. I collected seed of the grass Hystrix patula (Bottlebrush grass) from the roadside, and it's successfully growing here now.

I'm also adding plantings of Helleborus foetidus, Carex appalachica, Epimedium, and Athyrium niponicum 'Pictum' to try to achieve a tapestry groundcover I saw several years ago in a woodland garden across the river in Bucks County, Pennsylvania.

Of course, this area needs plants for the summer too. The ethereals pass, but some plants last through the summer. Symphyotrichum cordifolium (known as Aster cordifolium when I planted it) has taken up vigorous residence in the drier areas around tree trunks, and is also seeding about, adding to the late season interest in this area.

Last weekend, I bought ramps from the Union Square Greenmarket in Manhattan. I've seen photos of wild garlic in British gardens. I don't know if our ramp is the same plant, but its foliage looks the same, so I'm giving it a try in the wetter parts of the woodland area. Perhaps it will reward me with white blossoms next summer.

I haven't mentioned bulbs. Daffodils do well here. At the front, near the entrance gate, is an area of several hundred unnamed Daffodils left by Edith Howeth. They're in sore need of dividing, and I hope to get to them this summer, and replant them throughout the garden. Perhaps I'll also add Leucojum aestivum "Gravetye Giant', perhaps Camassia and other bulbs that can adapt to the conditions here.

I suppose I'll mention a major change I still have in mind--building a raised, rocky berm, over near the right hand path, planted with a few sculptural Japanese maples. (I have to credit this idea to Peter Holt, a garden designer in Nova Scotia.) We'll see.

For maintenance, this area will get a selective early summer cut, leaving the plants with late season interest, then a final cut at the end of the summer. It's important to use perennials that can compete with the very vigorous grasses. So far, most of these can do that. Some, like the Ajuga, virtually disappear into the undergrowth for most of the summer, but they retain their strength and are ready to go again come next spring.

This area is the entrance to the garden, so it's really a prelude to the larger wet prairie at the back of the house.