Light and shadow

Late Sunday afternoon, the day before the longest day of the year, the play of changing light and shadow makes photography difficult. But it's a glorious time to be in the garden.

Garden Diary: Greening, and plans for the season

Nearing the end of April green is becoming the predominant color in the garden, finally beginning to cover the stubble left from burning and cutting last year's growth. The benefit of leaving the dried detritus of winter will, eventually, be a higher organic content in this mineral, heavy clay soil. It's messy to look at, but once the greening begins, it gradually disappears.

The woodland entrance to the garden above has been waiting for five years now. I've been focusing on development of the wet prairie garden beyond, the stone walls, most recently replacing the wood chip paths with gravel (the one on the left will be graveled this weekend). Other than a few scattered ferns and carex around the edges, this area awaits its future. I still don't know what it wants to be. Should I block the view beyond with taller woodies--willows perhaps, for coppicing? I do intend to extend the mass planting of Petasites in the middle distance back into the grassy area in the foreground, and to add Senecio aureus to start an early spring community when the plants arrive over the next few days.

To the left are the rough stone steps (Argilite, native to the property) up to the raised terrace area at the back (front?) of the house. Perhaps I should explain. The back of our house is the front, fully windowed, opening to the garden. What Americans call the traditional front (facing the road) is a rather blank slate. The house turns its back to the public eye. The internal life of the house, and most of the garden is hidden.

Amazing that this crab apple was planted in the late 1960's. It remains healthy and blooms profusely each spring. Its semi-weeping habit makes a pleasing veil through which to view the more distant garden.

The sitting area on the old bluestone terrace is surrounded by casual plantings. I do intend to add a slightly formal element with simple lines of boxwood outlining a small part of the stone perimeter, and underplanted with Bergenia. The aim will be to emphasize the linearity of the terraced area seen from the distance, and to add a contrast to the informal plantings all around. As time permits, I'm also adding plantings to obscure the view of the garden below, to entice visitors to venture out, and to add a sense of mystery.

In the far left center, above, behind the large maple, I've planted a Hornbeam hedge. It went in only last weekend, so I don't expect to see my eight-foot barrier for quite a few years. When it matures it will screen an unattractive stretch of deer fencing, forming one of several offset "layers" of vegetation.

In the middle right of the photo is a linear stone planting area, which you can see in the closeup below, filled with box and Bergenia. This stone structure echos and visually extends a linear pond off to the right. Another project I hope to complete this year was the idea of my friend, garden designer Peter Holt. Peter suggested I extend the visual line created by long pond and long planter, by adding a second raised stone planter across the path, carrying the eye back toward the large maple and new Hornbeam hedge.

This structural feature is much more effective when the garden is flat, as it is now and in late winter, and will add considerably to the garden's central structure, which strongly echos the drainage pattern across this wet land. The flow of water across this land dictates much of the garden's shape, character, and plantings.

Said planter with box and Bergenia ...

and the infant Hornbeam hedge ...

Taking the path back across the garden, you can see what I mean about drainage. Note the very sharp slope of the land to the left. Immense amounts of water flow across this area during heavy rains, and for hours afterward.

And at the far side (below), a different kind of hedge, just planted, of Alder (Alnus gultinosa), which I will keep cut in a version of a Piet Oudolf-inspired camelback hedge, also to hide the unsightly deer fencing. But more importantly, to create a human-scale edging of shrubby materials that emotionally distance the tall surrounding forest and help familiarize the garden space.

Below, a sure sign of wetness:  Petasites hybridus x 'Dutch' in bloom across the path from the Alder.

And Darmera peltata in bloom, another lover of the wet ...

Garden Diary: July Exuberance

The weeks are flying by and the garden is changing quickly. Since I see it only on weekends, the change seems faster. About two weeks back the cotton candy plumes of Filipendula rubra 'Venusta' had peaked and Rudbeckia maxima was just coming into bloom. The Filipendula plumes have alchemized to coppery webs and the Rudbeckia is dropping its petals, its slim stems all askew since the long dry spell suddenly ended with heavy thundershowers and violent winds five days ago.

Above is the entry to the wet prairie garden, by way of the small pond. Below is a photo tour, moving roughly clockwise around the garden.

In the foreground is a very old Viburnum plicatum I cut to the ground when we moved in and had to clear about 60 cedars to open the land to light. A mistake - the viburnum had taken the form of a small tree. I wish I had kept it. It's nearing three feet, so I look forward to having it again as part of a middle layer.

The 1965 house has a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the prairie garden.

Moving clockwise ...

... further clockwise ...

... and again ...

Part of a rapidly growing colony of Physostegia virginiana. This end of the garden will be mostly white and green.

After two years, the first Prairie Dock (Silphium terebinthinaceum) to flower.

Joe Pye Weed through Panicum virgatum 'Cloud Nine' - a very popular panicum a few years back, but now hard to find in nurseries. So much clamour after "something new and improved," the old cultivars are forgotten.

And Rudbeckia maxima with Cloud Nine.

Ernst, at over 6 feet, illustrates my penchant for giant plants. I do have to put more work into the groundcover layer.

Still working on this planting of Pycnanthemum muticum, Miscanthus s. 'Silberfeder', and a hybrid Petasites japonicus. This is copied from an Oehme and Van Sweden design ("imitation is the sincerest ...")

Silphium laciniatum against Miscanthus purpurescens and Miscanthus gigantius.

The bridge carrying the cedar chip path to the back side, where the large planting of miscanthus-pycnanthemum-petasites marks the lower end of the prairie "circle."

Looking across the widest part of the prairie - about 250 feet - through a foreground screen of Spartina pectinata variegata (above) and through Salix alba Britzensis (below). The ribbon curls of the spartina are a nice contract to all the verticals; I should add more (but will divide and replant since it's rather invasive). The golden glow is Filipendula foliage.