Just reread Tom Stuart-Smith's
The Barn Garden about his own garden in Hertfordshire--an intriguing book, a beautiful book, with several surprises. I mention it because Tom, in passing, tells of the damage done to perennials and grasses by voles one mild winter, damage that prompted him to start cutting back many plants much earlier than usual. That struck a resonant cord. Last spring I found the roots of many plants in the garden had been eaten, leaving plants dead or severely damaged. I really regret the loss of a large Baptisia australis that had several years of growth, and I even noticed serious damage to several grasses.
We're now having a second mild winter so I want to start cutting and burning early. Unfortunately, we've had icy rain and continuing wet. So instead of clearing the garden, I took a few photos of the ice cover yesterday morning. Growth is thin following last fall's hurricane, but it's astonishing what visual delights remain if you have a weather surprise.
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| Acer palmatum in ice with background grasses |
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| Small pond brimming full with rain |
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| Salix alba 'Britzensis' being trained as a pollarded specimen |
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| Three large Salix sachalinensis 'Sekka' covered in ice behind grasses and bedraggled Filipendula remains |
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| Marc Rosenquist's bronze amid the ruins |
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| View across the desolation toward the house and new reflecting pool |
And speaking of the reflecting pool, I find being away for a week has helped me put the many conflicting comments I've solicited in perspective. In my loose, serendipitous garden, so reliant on chance as much as planning, the structural detailing and geometry of the pool area simply do not matter that much in the larger scheme of things (not saying they don't matter at all). I still want to "get it right" (whatever form that takes), but the garden is about much more than this little piece. And I have other fish to fry.
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| Betula nigra 'Heritage' (River birch) beside the long garden walk |
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| Salix sachalinensis 'Sekka' pruned high to show sculptural trunks |
This willow has a striking characteristic. When pruned, some stems develop a flattened, fasciated form much desirable among flower arrangers, very beautiful detailing. Here are two close-up views taken last week on my mobile phone.
Here again is the River birch, which is just beginning to develop the white, peeling bark so distinctive of this cultivar--another ornament of winter.
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| River birch looking toward woodland garden |
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| That Acer again |
I still hope for dry weather by Sunday, so I can begin to cut and burn.
I always spend a wonderful amount of time visiting with you, fascinated by the breath and depth of your vision.
ReplyDeleteThank you for a most inspiring place!
Rosaeia, thanks for visiting and for connecting in this way.
ReplyDeleteJames, you keep telling us the garden is done for the the year and then you give us another breathtaking set of photos. . . . Beautiful, beautiful blond grasses! The salix are also lovely; it's amazing what limbing up can do for some large shrubs and small trees.
ReplyDeleteRe: the voles. You may need to borrow the right dog occasionally. Our Viszla Sophie really cleaned out our old Maryland garden of voles -- although it's possible they were moles, I cannot remember the differences.
Cindy, it really is over. The garden is now just a declining vehicle for the effects of ice, frost, and light. Still, it's a source of much pleasure and wonder to me. Wish I had one of those dogs.
DeleteI think you should forget about the reflecting pool for a bit, turn your back on it so to speak and then come back to it with fresh eyes and it will be obvious what you should do. I tend to find that after mithering about something for ages I suddenly get inspriation come to me in the middle of the night.
ReplyDeleteI find the idea of cutting back early to prevent rodent damage interesting. Why does this stop the voles? Or is it a case of removing the top growth which the voles hid in?
I'll turn my back, in a sense, but I will continue work since I have to finish this project and move on to others. The weeks pass so swiftly. I think the issue with cutting back is to eliminate a comfortable place for the voles to live. That lessens the likelihood that they will eat the roots.
DeleteStill looking beautiful. I'm ready too to start hacking into the garden. I usually don't even think about it for another month.
ReplyDeleteI meant to salute your bravery in your last post about the water feature. I'd never offer up my personal garden for that kind of opinion--not because it doesn't need it--but because it probably needs it so much. And there's really only so much in terms of resources and time I can commit to it. So I'm already resolved to what I will do.
I know I'm a hypocrite. I love Anne Wareham's idea that gardens need to be publicly examined and scrutinized. But when it comes to my own early garden, I just can't do what you do. But I commend you for it. You have my respect.
Though--ugh--it was quite brutal. Gardens are so intensely personal and emotional to me, I still cringe thinking about those comments.
Onward and upward! Planting can soften and make almost any geometry seem purposeful. You'll make it work out.
Thanks, Thomas. I helps that I don't think of myself as a professional (though not an amature either). And some of the criticism of commentors hurts, others take no account of limited time or budget, others have good ideas I find intriguing, but possibly don't have time or money for them.
DeleteI can also see Anne is right about another thing. Viewing photographs can really be misleading. The loss of context, of atmosphere and mood, of ability to see in three dimentions, loss of proportional scale, etc. leads to some unreliable advice. But still I find it hepful to ask for the thoughts of others. It also seems to engage people who I'd be interested in knowing, either in the cyber world, or the real world.
I don't feel comfortable with public garden criticism unless I am sure the gardener welcomes it. What I do love, is critiquing a garden with several friends in the car after a garden visit. It is always educational to force myself to articulate what works and what doesn't work in a garden. However, just because a garden is on tour, doesn't mean the gardener is willing to be publicly critiqued. Maybe we should start annotating in the Open Days book or the NGS guide which gardeners welcome open critique and which ones would prefer not to be evaluated publicly.
DeleteAt any rate, I learn a lot when you ask for ideas or input. It invites me to think out a garden challenge and come up with a solution. I certainly don't take the honor of the invitation lightly which necessitates a thoughtful response. I often learn a lot from your responses to ideas. I, like Thomas, am a bit of a hypocrite as far as garden critiquing goes. I don't have tough enough skin, I'm afraid. Thanks for having the courage, or as TSS might say, balls.
Michael, we've all seen the price Anne has paid for being outspoken, but I think she's gaining status and reputation by doing it. She's establishing a beach head, so to speak, and I think gaining an audience. She does limit public criticism to gardens that charge for public access, which I think is fair. True, it's difficult on the gardener, but I think we'd all be better garden makers if we could find a way to have a critiquing process that's more open. I too find the discussion in the car after a garden visit enlightening. I wish there were a culture that permitted more open discussion without publicly ridiculing the garden maker or owner. I do think we can strive for more openness, so I'll continue to ask for criticism. I find it exhilarating in a way. I do get so tired of reading about lovely, beautiful gardens--the fluff stuff--that permeates what little garden media we have.
DeleteJames,
DeleteAll right, it is time for me to toughen up. If a garden charges for public access, then being open for critique does sound fair. I think a culture can be created where open discussion/debate can happen. Lynden Miller, my public garden mentor, says that the best gardeners are always opinionated. As we mature as gardeners and become more confident, hearing other opinionated gardeners say their take on our gardens will be part of the learning process--sometimes we will agree, sometimes we won't. No harm done.
James,
ReplyDeleteI envy the beautiful tawny colors you still have going on--our landscape devolved into grey/black mush a long time ago. Also, I am curious about the growth that will come from the fasciated stems--will the future growth from these stems contribute to the viable and healthy structure of the tree? Or will it be heavy and weird and congested? It certainly is interesting.
--Emily
Emily - the fasciation seems to yield normal growth. I've read that this willow can be made to produce more fasciation if pruned heavily. So far, it seems to happen randomly. The majority of stems are normal. Having very wet soil, I'm learning to explore the variety of willows. Once nursery, Bluestem, is near you in British Columbia. That's where I got several willows and other unusual plants such as Inula racemosa, which Tom Stuart-Smith described as a plant "with balls." Noel Kingsbury, on the other hand, mentioned how much it seeds about and said (in his blog post on my garden) he's glad not to have such a vigorous seeder. It's actually easy to kill off any seedlings I don't want. But I think I've drifted far from the original subject. Yes, the colors, when wet and in certain light, continue even though the grasses are smashed.
DeleteI've purchased from Bluestem--hundreds of sesleria caerulea for my front rockery--and it was a good experience. Although we have an abundance of excellent, independent specialty nurseries, buying mail order allows me to quickly ensure that I have access to the specific plant species and varieties that I want. When efficiency is my priority, I start placing on-line orders!
DeleteI admire the Inula in your garden--such a perfect complement to the big grasses.
--Emily
Vigorous seeders - bring 'em on!! XXXXX
DeleteEmily - I'll be placing my Bluestem order soon. More willows--rosmarifolius and exigua.
DeleteAnne, Huzzah for vigorous seeders. Easy enough to stomp out those you don't want.
DeleteWhen to cut back the grasses is a constant problem. In England I usually left them standing until March (it became one of those Easter jobs), I always think I should do it at about the same time here but then discover that the grasses have already started to grow so cutting back becomes a difficult job, rather than just cutting through the lot with a hedge trimmer. This year I am dismayed to find that the Miscanthus has already started into growth, this before our cold weather has arrived. I think it is due to the drought last summer when the Miscanthus went into summer dormancy to survive and the rains of autumn and the mild weather has tricked them into behaving as if it were spring. I want to leave the Miscanthus as long as possible because it is the most beautiful thing in the garden to my eyes. Christina
ReplyDeleteThe Miscanthus does seem to last and last. I agree with your reluctance to cut it, but it must be done. And I rather dread the first two weeks after burning and cutting--all that blackness. After two weeks, though, it becomes a quite beautiful, flat, minimal garden. It's exciting to see it bare for a few weeks, to see spatial relationships in a new way, to imagine changes.
DeleteJames,
ReplyDeleteThe garden looks spectacular on ice. I'm not sure I would have the courage to cut and burn it all right now, but gardeners have to do what they have to do sometimes. Not many gardens look like this in January!!! I especially admire the curve in the path with the limbed-up Salix sachalinensis 'Sekka'.
Michael, I do like that curve in the path. Unfortunately, the end of the view terminates in an ugly metal gate in the deer fence. I'm thinking about something to block the view and serve as a focal point. I've planted a gold version of Salix sachalinensis there, but it will take four or five years to reach any size. So for the interim, possibly some sculptural wooden piece, reminiscent of Louise Nevelson. I'm imagining 8x8's of different heights bound together, mounted vertically, sort of like organ pipes, in black. Tell me what you think.
DeleteI like the idea of the wooden sculpture very much. There are many excellent ideas that can be accomplished with modest materials. Being cost-effective and easily moved (if need be) will also be an advantage. I will be anxious to see what you end up doing.
DeleteI'll have to look up the book, I grew up, until 10, in Letchworth, a town in Hertfordshire.
ReplyDeleteThe image of the pond is stunning.
Tom Stuart-Smith designs extraordinary gardens, and he seems to be really hot now. I guess winning Best in Show at Chelsea a few times does that. But his home garden is different from the slick installations at Chelsea, though his winning Chelsea gardens have certainly been beautiful. Glad you like the pond. It's clay and I intended to line it when I get the chance, not to hold water, but to kill off the horrible, rampant Sagittaria I unfortunately planted a few years back.
DeleteYour garden is stunning, even now, James. There is an honesty about gardens like yours in winter...reacting to and reflecting the elements and changing of the seasons. LOVE the silhouettes of the Willows against the buff-colored grasses.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Scott. As you well know, it's all in the light and conditions (e.g., wet seems to bring out the color of the grasses). I have to agree even hurricanes and heavy snows leave something of interest. I spread seed of Helleborus foetidus under those limbed up willows last fall. Hope it takes.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautifull willow James! And great pictures too.
ReplyDeleteMy garden is too small for it. But in the big garden of my sister it can grow.
You´ve got one of the rare gardens that do look really good in winter.
Greetings Renate
Thanks, Renate. I have a very small garden in Brooklyn, so I understand space constraints.
ReplyDeleteI have a Pride of India with lush bronze bark. Going to harvest a cutting and follow your limbing up example in our new garden. That structural drama makes the garden dance.
ReplyDeleteAre you referring to the tree we call Crepe myrtle? I would certainly want to prune it to show the structure and the bark. I seriously considered using them in my Brooklyn garden but feared their eventual size.
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