Garden Diary: planned or random? Living through the changes

At long last we had a good rain. A happy conclusion to a weekend of nursery rambling, new plant purchases, and a long visit to Chanticleer with new friends.

So I unloaded the booty in heavy rain on my return to Brooklyn and piled it into the garden. What to do now is the question. I have a plan but I'm letting the space speak for itself, with a bit of fortunate accident helping things along. I adjust, adapt, change the plan in response to new knowledge, new perceptions, random occurrences. I'm living the garden day by day and find more clarity and focus, as what is, asks me to be open to the unexpected.

I'm still learning to balance my small, rather austere, formal city garden, which needs a tight rein, with the wild abandon of my country garden, which can absorb all sorts of plants and experimentation with little ill effect if things don't go as expected. Not so in Brooklyn; I may have come back with too many plants I've only vaguely associated emotionally. This is not what I meant when I blogged about "random planting" in an earlier post, but I am working toward a structured randomness. I exaggerate; I've been thinking about how the garden will come together, so most of the new plants, though bought spontaneously, do fit an impressionistic concept I mull over in most waking hours, constantly rearranging, associating different plants, knowing full well I'll probably plant on a spur-of-the-moment decision, though after long internal debate. Yes, this is a kind of randomness. Like knowing the dice very well, then making the throw. I think "random" differs from "uncertain."

This photo shows some of that potential "randomness." The prime purchase is the Acer palmatum dissectum 'Green Waterfall', which I've now planted smack on the axis through the doorway and pool. I've no problem with that purchase. At some point I had thought of a Japanese maple in this position, but only as one in a rush of images in my mind's eye. Though it's not a highly creative solution to the need for a focal point, at $90, it's a practical one. When I saw it at Meadowbrook Nursery, a nursery run by the Pennsylvania Horticultural Society, last Saturday, I knew the decision had been made. And it's a beautiful little tree. The color shows well against the fence and I can already see it will initiate other changes in design and planting.

That maple illustrates how well greens go with the slate color of the fence. I have serious doubts about those glaucous blue Sieboldiana-type hostas over by the left wall. Unless I make that color a significant theme in an appropriate place, the hostas may have to go to the country garden at Federal Twist. The color just doesn't sing in this context, though I may yet find a color field where it belongs ... a little early to tell.

So the key elements of the garden so far? The pool, the boxwoods, the Japanese maple, and the Sunburst honey locusts, which are leafing out and will become much more prominent. I rubbed off all but the top few buds to encourage development of a branch structure at the top.

I don't mention the view up and out of the garden as an important element of design because I've discovered that the dark color of the fence tends to keep the eye within the garden space, creates its own force field, stops the eye and pulls it down. Photos don't capture that sense of enclosure, and even tend to magnify the importance of the view out.

Having lived with the garden space for a while now, and having had time to compare it to my much larger, more open and unconstrained Federal Twist garden, I realize the screen I had envisioned at the back, to hide a maintenance and composting area and to serve as a focal point, will not work. Space is much too limited and a screen would interfere with the serenity of the garden, giving it a cluttered feeling. Too much stuff.

The Japanese maple, once it's gained some size, will be part of the solution. I still think it should be joined by a screen of evergreens. One concept is two yew columns on the left and three on the right (or Thuja occidentalis or vertical hollies, or something else dark green and vertical). Right now my preference is for yew, whose dull, matt green will provide a neutral background for interesting things to happen in front. Also perhaps two Ginkos, each placed symmetrically at each side. I favor Ginko over fastigiate hornbeams or some other choice simply as a matter of personal preference; I love the form and texture of the leaves. One on the right would hide the ugly utility pole and the other would help block the view out.

I anticipate objection to the Ginkos, but a tall, slender selection such as 'Princeton Sentry' would probably work. Eventually they will become large trees, but that's likely to be after my time here, and then someone else can do with the garden space as he or she wants. This is only a working concept. It may change, as so many things have. Wednesday evening I saw a fastigiate purple beech in a friend's garden; another very good choice. So many possibilities ...

Between the yew columns and the graveled area, I imagine rivers (perhaps tatters?) of color running in irregular patterns across the width of the back garden, buffered with dark green of, perhaps, common Euonymous kept trimmed low.

Another issue is where to use the large planter at the bottom of the photo above. Placing it on axis, as I've done here, seems a bit much. If I use it, it will have to be off center and the planting will have to be kept low, and probably will be dark. Possibilities? Persicaria microcephala 'Red Dragon', large leaves of one of the reddish Ligularias,  black Colocasias, or prehaps Carex muskengumensis to hang over the sides paired with the large foliage of Darmera peltata or Rodgersia?). Or I may take the planter to the country garden where I have plenty of room for it.

Note the photo of the maple before planting (below). The decrease in height and presence made by planting it certainly makes a difference, so I look forward to seeing a larger tree in a couple of years.

Yesterday I drained the pool after about ten days full -- to leach alkali chemicals from the concrete. I think I'll keep the water level a little lower than this, about one-half to one inch below the pool edge. I do want it high enough to get maximum reflection. I may also use a bit of black dye. Just a little to suggest a color more green than black. And I think I'll try four or five small fish to control mosquito larvae ... and a small bubbling fountain. Will the fish survive our racoons and feral cats? I want a clear surface, but may have to use some aquatic plants to provide hiding places from Brooklyn marauders.

As to space for people, I'd say this is a garden for a brief stroll out from the house, for contemplation, a moment alone, an solitary night time glance upward to remember the infinite universe.

The only place for socializing will be the paved area just outside the doors opening onto the garden. Room for four, perhaps six. Outdoor cooking is not my forte, or my interest, but I'll probably get a small, low grill ... something like a hibachi.

And as for a maintenance and composting area? I just can't spare the space, so gardening tools will live inside the cellar door. I'm not yet sure where my red wagon, an essential tool for moving materials through the house, will go. Perhaps it could be a "wall hanging" in the entry vestibule of the house. Or as Ross Hamilton suggested, perhaps in jest, a table for serving drinks. As to composting, Michael of Bramble and Bean (a neighbor) has suggested Vitamix composting, which I'll investigate.

I want plants to dangle over the ten-inch-high barrier at the back. When I found this Lonicera pileata at Meadowbrook Gardens, I knew it belonged here. The Lysimachia numularia 'Aurea' on the left, of which I have several, may also dangle.

This view from the back of the garden to the house gives me a new idea that may add immensely to the experience of the garden. A small stone path could allow visitors, one at a time, to walk up and across the elevated planting area at back. So much better use of the space than a wall or screen to hide a composter and tools, making possible a journey through the garden, small as it is, rather than just a walk out and back.

The muted colors at twilight suggest how evocative lighting could be. Lights will make the garden come alive at night. Imagine the pool glowing in the dark.

I wonder how professional garden designers put it all down on paper, make plant lists, source plants, and install. I thank my lucky stars I'm an amateur, slow and indecisive.

Garden Diary: Using the Landscape as Guide

The Setting
The landscape at Federal Twist is the result of centuries of natural processes as water has drained from higher elevations down to the Lockatong Creek below the house, eroding and refining the landforms left by the advance and retreat of the ice sheet in the most recent glaciation. The landscape also shows the effects of various cultural overlays. The Lenni Lenape lived and hunted in this area for centuries, but left virtually no visible trace, though they certainly left artifacts of their civilization. Eighteenth and nineteenth century farmers cut the virgin forests, cleared stones to make new fields, and built the stone rows that form grids throughout the surrounding woods. Much later, in 1965, a major cultural change was introduced with the construction of what is now our house on an earthen platform elevated above the surrounding land, providing a view across the then open fields to the hills on the far side of the Lockatong valley (now mostly obscured by forest). Over the intervening decades, the house platform has changed drainage patterns, affecting the ecology of the area. By interrupting the flow of water down the natural slope to the creek, and forcing larger flows around each side, the earthen platform has created extremely wet, almost boggy areas at each end of the house, resulting in new ecological niches that will become part of my new garden.

Stone Wall: Imitating Curves in Nature
We have used native stone from old stone rows on the property to make a low, dry laid stone wall around the base of the earthen platform on which the house rests. On the end of the house we just finished building a curved wall that reflects the shape and direction of a small natural drainage channel. You can see how the curve of the wall partially follows and complements the shape of the channel in the photo above.

I plan to excavate a canal-like pond that will appear to flow from, and be fed by, the small drainage channel. The excavated soil will be used to fill in behind the new stone wall. In the next photo, you can see the start of the pond excavation (now interrupted by winter). The green hose, extending back about 40 feet from the water toward the woods, suggests the S curve of the pond, which will carry the curve of both the wall and drainage channel further into the garden (excuse the logs and debris; this is sort of a construction site).

Governing Concept: River Broadening into Delta
As shown in the next photo, taken from the opposite side, the curved wall serves another purpose. Since the main entrance to the garden is via a curved path through the woodland garden, the wall adds a visual momentum, opening the view to the garden as you walk down the path. This curve, in fact, has given this garden transition - from shade to sun, from woodland to open garden - a logic and flow that I didn't anticipate. Think of the narrow mouth of a river (the restricted entry space and wall) as the river rounds a curve and opens into a wide delta (the garden proper). This powerful concept has emerged gradually, as individual pieces of the overall design have fallen into place, and demonstrates, at least to me, the value of a "slow gardening" approach.

The view back to the house from the garden (next photo) shows the straight line of the wall, which will demarcate the wet prairie plantings below the wall, from the drier habitat plantings to be created at its top and extend up the slope.


The garden will develop in harmony with the natural landscape and setting. I have only to learn to read the landscape and interpret symbols left from the past. And, to the extent possible, practice sustainable design, reusing materials and resources from the site.