Project A: The lawn conversion

So...
I decided to eliminate the lawn years ago, and spent a lot of time attempting to come up with a design plan before I took action.  Thank goodness I realized, even without a clear idea of what I was going to do next, at least the soil could be prepared. I covered up my last patch of grass last year about this time with about 8” of wood chips.  The lawn was between the 60ft Long Bed, filled with fruit trees and shrubs, and the top terrace, which holds the potager and the gravelled container garden. It was planted, as the designers say, “to allow the eye to rest” between busy plantings and many pots, and also, a spot for my granddaughter to do cartwheels and have fairy picnics.  These many years later, the moles have done their dirty work, and the weeds as well, and my granddaughter is now sweet sixteen and way too cool for cartwheels or fairies.

The trick will be to create a bloom calendar, texture, shape and color palette of plants that will play nicely together, with the surrounding framework already in place. Most of my budget is comprised of “found” materials from other parts of the garden, orphans from the plant ghetto and divisions from existing favorites. This is quite challenging for my also demanding esthetic, but fun!

My strategy to prepare for old age must prevail, no more time for mistakes that might take years to realize, so low growing, low-maintenance interesting shrubs and woody perennials are the order of the day.  I will pull ideas and plants from the existing borders that have performed well to blend with the new areas.  A wonderful golden cistus thriving in the adjacent scree bed can be replicated, as well as the allium senescens ‘Millenium’ and ‘Summer Beauty’ that compliments it.  In the shady area at the other end, near the weeping katsura, where bergenia ciliata and hostas already thrive, I will step out into the new space with more of the same and also the variegated liriope and camassia that lends good texture and color contrast.  The existing sinuous path will also help define the sunny and shady areas.

Once I began planting, the plan on paper began to morph into reality.  Some of the plants I intend to repeat actually do have to be purchased, some accents I don't have at all.  Nurseries I would have visited for the sheer pleasure of plant hunting, let alone for specifics, are either closed or modified for "pick up only".  So far I have planted or transplanted vaccinium erythrinum (not even on the plan, gypsies in pots!), acanthus moved from too much shade), allium senescens, digitalis and anthriscus sylvestris 'Ravenswing'.  I found the yarrow I wanted, 'Moonshine', several weeks ago on a foray to a local nursery.  I'm glad I bought five.  Six Spanish lavenders, planned for the deck pots, have been recruited also.  Five very full pots of stachys officinalis 'Hummelo' are waiting to be tucked in near the path. Nearly done.

The yarrow, digitalis, and lavender are blooming now which gives me a lot of enthusiasm for the progress I've made.

Cistus, germander, berberis in the scree behind, vaccinum, digitalis, anthriscus 'Ravenswing' and yarrow 'Moonshine'

Not crazy about bright or acid yellows, but this works for me.

Spring Planning

Having decided to open my garden this year, I very purposefully walked through the entire garden with notebook in hand to list all the chores, pending projects and wish list items I wanted to accomplish before the targeted date.  I made a separate list for my gardener helper, who I can only afford once or twice a month for a few hours at a time.  The lists made the whole thing less overwhelming, and actually pretty exciting.  I would feel a great sense of accomplishment, and have a wonderful garden to share with everyone. Open Garden is scheduled for late July. Given that we are all under shelter-in-place orders due to the pandemic, and we will likely still be practicing social distancing, and I may even have to cancel the open garden, I plan to proceed as if the world will figure out how to be well in the next two months...(this is the outlook of an optimist who listens to birdsong every day now instead of the news.)

No sooner had I begun the list when "opportunities" arose that I couldn't refuse.  Clumps of perennials from friends, continue to arrive,  two tons of basalt flagstone from another friend who was was removing it to install new paths in her garden. Then there was the realization that certain trees and shrubs, long planted in huge pots needed to be re-potted or homed permanently in the garden, or put up for adoption.  When spring growth began, other trees and shrubs and perennials blatantly cried out..."move me too!" or at least, "prune me!". Adding these items to the ever growing do list of course means re-prioritizing. The bottom of the list becomes more remote. When will I ever get to the campground and the wilderness beyond?

Well, every journey begins with the first step.

Project A, three years in the planning, two years in the making, this is installation spring. 

Terrace One: Replace the lawn with shrubs and easy to sustain perennials.

More on this soon.

Open Garden Season

This time of year in addition to a full calendar of nursery jaunts, plant sales, public garden tours, lectures and personal gardening, we calculate in some time for open garden touring.  One of the attractions of the plant society I am part of is the more than 100 gardens that register for the book that comes in the mail around the first of April.  Then comes the joyful scramble to figure out how many gardens I can see that I've heard about, or I've seen before and want to see again, or is in the neighborhood, or maybe near a favorite nursery stop...

The gardens that are entered in the book are quite a varied offering, from simple but delightful urban gardens, nurtured with great care, to cottage gardens and contemporary designer landscapes, edible gardens chock full of veggies and maybe some chickens, to sprawling woodland gardens or acreage in the country with long vistas to the mountains. Some visitors come to gawk and admire, others to get new ideas for their own spaces, and yet others to find new friends with the same passions. What all have in common is the desire to share the pleasure of their labors.

Three years after a broken wrist and a long recovery, I decided I was ready to open my garden again. The motivating factor was that I realized, along with several other indications, that although my wrist had healed well, my ability to manage my half-acre garden, complete some long pending projects and possibly taking on a few more, was rapidly waning as my aches and pains associated with aging were rapidly increasing. Its now or never. 

This year is turning out quite differently than any of us may have imagined. Yikes... a new plague is upon us and my open garden plans, along with everyone else's, are on hold indefinitely while the entire world tries to figure out how to survive!
Piling in the car with a few buddies to drive out to the country nurseries, or planning a trip with a few friends to nurseries and gardens up or down the coast is wishful thinking while we are under shelter-in-place orders.  Browsing a favorite garden center for hours or even strolling through a public garden is at the moment off limits. Those that are open, want you to shop with a list, conduct your business quickly or pick up at the curb. Now I ask you, what kind of way is that to nursery shop? The message, however, has been racing through the internet, "gardening is not cancelled!" So we navigate the obstacles, and find our joy and passion anyway.

I count my blessings every time I glance out of my windows, or pull on my garden boots and gloves. No, gardening is not cancelled.  We don't need a flat of new plants or a nifty new tool to have a full satisfying experience just breathing in and out, firmly standing in the soil, physically and emotionally. The heart and soul of the practice of gardening is being outside, gauging the temperature, the light, the birdsong, the pollinators busily flitting about, and focusing on the living moment we are in.

So maybe there will be an open day in my garden this year, maybe not.  But this year I will relish the profound experience of digging, tilling, raking, planting, dividing, transplanting, pruning, harvesting and just sitting on a bench, or a rock or a log or my little weeding stool like no other.

A New Leaf

Its a few days after Easter Sunday. It's also holy days for many other cultures other than Christian.  Not being a scholar of any (raised Catholic, but in practice, a Gardener), my thoughts range towards the general idea of rebirth and renewal, applicable to all.  Without data to support my theory, I think all of our efforts and historical experiences are centered on the idea that it happens when the earth is reawakening from her winter slumber.  Now I realize that in the southern hemisphere, the seasons are reversed, and I cannot speak to how that disables my idea, but I forge on...

I fortify myself with birdsong, emerging seedlings, unfurling fronds, delicately unfolding blossoms and the graceful gestures of the Japanese maple fans, like so many elegant dancers on a stage. I do my best to send this awesome energy to the world that needs it.

Spring Cleaning

Now that many of us have been "sheltering-in-place" for perhaps for several weeks now, we have gone through various stages of societal withdrawal.  The introverts have gotten over the euphoria of not having to deal with anyone else, the extroverts have had a tantrum or two for being restricted, and the rest have put in their queque every disaster movie ever made about pandemics, viruses and aliens, or taken to watching animal antics. Pass the popcorn please. Now what? We are still confined "for our own safety and the safety of our loved ones" to the landscape of our homes.

We are beginning to reckon with our mortality in a very real way.  Perhaps you found out someone you know is sick, or quarantined, or dead.  I knew that no amount of intellectual preparation for death in my world would protect me from the inevitable.  Last week, I heard the parent or aunt of a second hand acquaintance was hospitalized.  I sympathized, and moved on.  I heard about a famous celebrity who succumbed.  I shook my head and move on. Then I heard someone I knew, ever so long ago has died.  I remember the beautiful circumstances of that relationship, and the people involved, and I feel this more personally.  The looming presence of death too near. Death is on the doorstep.

How do we cope in this relentless onslaught of frightening news? Find a quiet room in ourselves to regain composure?  Perhaps first of all,  clean up the room.  I choose to spring clean the garden.

My spring gardening has taken on epic proportions this year.  Going out there is always cathartic for me, even if it is just a ramble through the woodland to see what delightful ephemeral has emerged overnight.  This year, I am fanatically purposeful to look in every nook and cranny, for treasure, for things that need purpose, for what may be inhibiting the success of something else.  Very little is actually going to the yard waste bin.  Today's rot and decay is tomorrow's compost. Fallen branches fortify the dead hedge. Sodden leaves enrich the veg beds. The willow bench too weak to support a person, now elegantly sits in the Long Bed flanked by camassia and skirted by hardy geranium.

I will probably have the best garden this year than I have ever had before (like many of us!) because I am laser focused on making do with what I have. Unrestrained spring consumption is not possible.

Nature has already shown us that she is resilient when we stop our relentless onslaught on her gifts.  The rivers and streams are clearer, the air is cleaner, the animals are emerging from hiding.  I aim to enjoy this natural bounty more wisely.

A Change of Plans

I would be planning what to pack take to New York next week on a spring break trip to visit my son.  I was to rendezvous with my granddaughter in Oakland, and we would travel together on the long airplane ride to the east coast. 
Just a few weeks ago we were discussing airlines and flight times.  Now, I am sending him care packages by mail with homeopathic immunity boosters, emotionally fortifying chocolate chip cookies, and spiritually inspirational zen poetry.  My almost 16 year old granddaughter must be constantly distracted from counting the days when she can get out of her very small world of tele-school, walking the dog and on line games with her friends.  Is it over yet?

I am blessed to have a half acre garden to roam around in.  I have enough plants and pots and tools and a big load of flagstone to divert me from the frequent onslaught of intrepidation about this unique crises.  It has, however, been raining for days and days, and expected to rain for days and days more.  So I am looking out of the windows every few minutes hoping the scene will change and I can do more than take a walk with an umbrella and wonder if the sugar snap peas are going to come up.

The Perfect Distraction

I cancelled my garden help today.  It's raining. We rescheduled for next Friday.  Something to look forward to.  I really can't afford to have him come every week, but right now, knowing someone is coming to work outside is quite a comfort.  I plan my limited energy to work out there too on less strenuous tasks so that at the end of the day I feel a huge sense of accomplishment.

Last week, he cut and moved a big mossy log into my fern stumpery beds. In addition to the many ferns awaiting their new home, I'm looking forward to dividing a lovely little pink primula given to me by a friend that is now a substantial clump.

I will intermingle the divisions with small ferns and trillium that are already thriving there. On the other side of the path, planted out last Fall, are many varieties of dryopteris, adiantum, polystichum, pyrrosia, and few small rhodies and paeonia interspersed with Japanese maple specimens. Log and stump remnants and woodwardia unigemmata planted up in a huge Chinese pot mounted on an old cypress stump dominating the scene.

Taken last Fall

Jesse also cleared out a huge lonicera nitida 'Baggesen's Gold' that had overwhelmed the path leading to the little woodland courtyard and the stumpery.  I watched it grow from a 4" little darling to a looming behemoth in about 7 years. It's many offspring have been planted in much better territory to take advantage of its vigor.  Now I can see the length of the 60 ft x 20ft newly planted stumpery addition from the top of the flagstone stair. The view will be spectacular when the ferns and companion plants bulk up a bit.

 Rainy days are harder to navigate. I don't wander outside as much to get away from the constant wondering...are my people safe?  They are scattered across six states, both my children and my grandchild in the most volatile areas of the country. I know sooner or later I will pull on my hat and gloves and field jacket regardless, to get lost in the revelry of spring, if only for a while.