It’s been a while. I’ve been working a lot, but mostly I haven’t felt I’ve had much of interest to say. Maybe I still don’t. Instead I have consumed a lot of what others have to say – mostly historians, journalists, and lawyers. We’re living in wild times to say the least, and I’ve always been a political animal with an interest in history – disturbing as that may be.
I’ve been appalled at the throwing around of words and terminology that means anything but what the perpetrators want them to mean – just to cause disruption and to see what sticks. It is of no matter whatsoever if it makes sense, as long as it makes a headline. This kind of blurry disregard for actual, truthful definitions has made high school memories pop into my head – specifically of this one social studies teacher we had.
Lars-Erik Hedin was his name. Always in a brown blazer, forward stooping, and with an odd way of not swinging his arms when he walked down the halls. I don’t recall ever seeing him smile. But he was a fantastic teacher! “The political spectrum is not linear”, he said. “It’s the shape of a horseshoe. This means that the daily experience of living under the extremes of an authoritarian regime is pretty much the same, whether it’s a communist or a fascist regime”. That blew my mind, and I have never forgotten it. Which is why it is so intensely discombobulating to see all the red states pass absolutely draconian restrictions of their constituents while blasting blue states for being “communists” or “socialists”. Absolutely mind-boggling.
I’ve said before that – other than being in my garden – my happy space is reading Heather Cox Richardson’s daily newsletters where she untangles the events of the world and relates comparable historical parallels. Fascinating stuff! The other day she told a marvelous story about a female Republican senator who stood up against Joe McCarthy and called him on the damage he was doing to democracy, discourse, and the lives of others. She coined the term “the four horsemen of Calumny” – which of course I had to look up. Definition here. It’s a very inspiring story – you may read it here, if you like. Another inspiration was the former public editor of the NYT, Margaret Sullivan. In one of her newsletters, she included an excellent quote: “Democracy needs a ground to stand upon – and that ground is the truth.”
Anyway, with the visual of the four horsemen, and my old teacher’s horseshoe on top of mind, I suddenly felt an urge to make myself a lawn sign clarifying some things. In these maddening times where every day seems to be Opposite Day and open hunting season on actual reality, I needed to put words down that represented how absolutely crucial our choice will be this November. My sign is a jumbled mess and I don’t really have much hope of anyone stopping to read it. My husband kindly said that I would likely not get any graphic design awards for my efforts but he appreciated it anyway – LOL! But hey – the process of the making made me feel better. If even a single dog-walker stops to take a look, it will have been doubly worth it.
Here is the front of my sign. It’s obviously nothing you can make sense of from a speeding car. My attempt to preserve democracy is definitely aimed at pedestrians with time on their hands.It has a backside too. Really, I do hope you take the time to read about Margaret Chase Smith – the coiner of the phrase. She is worth your time.
Other adventures since I last wrote included a trip to Dancing Oaks with old Joy Creek pals Gina and Tamara. While there, we also ran into fellow blogger Jerry and friends Grace and Heather. It was a veritable convention and so much fun! I bought way to many cool things – much of it to fluff my very winter-weary fern tables, but what completely made me fall in love was a Leucothoe racemosa. It was the first time I had ever seen one, and those little white bells had me in an instant.
Here is my beloved Leucothoe trapped between my knees, overlooking the pastoral hills of Monmouth, when we finally let the gracious nursery workers close up shop and go home. We were there a loooong time!A detail from on of the newly fluffed fern tables. That cute little Thalictrum as well as a few of the ferns came home with me from Dancing Oaks. Here is another thing I have been working on. You might recall me talking about it in an earlier post. (At least I think I did.) Anyway, I want the deer fence to suggest a lotus flower as seen from above, and needed to build a model to see how it would look. Still working on the engineering part of it, but I like the looks of this.This will get you an idea of the scale of this thing. It’s huge!
That’s a few things of what I’ve been up to lately. Hopefully it won’t take me weeks and weeks to write again. Not sure when I’ll get around to documenting our trip to Dancing Oaks, but if you’re curious, Tamara wrote a really nice post on her blog (linked to it above). Until next time, be well!
This past Sunday was our annual Dirty Diggers of Lovewood spring plant sale. As always, it was a lot of fun and we were barraged with people snapping up our offerings. The official starting time was 11am, but folks started streaming in around 10:30. We were still setting up but said they could browse. The point where it actually began is fuzzy at best and before we knew it, we were all answering questions from all directions. It was exciting to see how many neighbors showed up. Others came too, but I loved hearing people say things like “I live two blocks over that way” and “I’m in that yellow house catty-corner behind you.” Slowly but surely our barren, lawn-infested little neighborhood is getting lusher – which was the whole point of starting this thing in the first place.
I had deep-set, very sincerely felt intentions of documenting our little event for future marketing efforts. However, my talent for “living in the now” superseded all forward thinking, and I completely forgot. Dang! Capturing the throngs of happy shoppers on video from this years sale would have been a fabulous way to entice more neighbors into coming next time. Oh well, maybe next time I’ll remember to set an alarm that will knock me out of my stupor…
The only photo I have of the partial abundance is of what is sticking out of my very dirty truck, and the only reason I took that photo is to document the damage to my bumper and tailgate above it. Yes, it was apparently time for another accident. If you have been following along for a while, you may remember this post from 2020 where I told you about my weird talent of regularly being run into by other vehicles while at a standstill. This time, just about a mile from home, like everyone else, I stopped to let some pedestrians cross at a blinking crosswalk. “Everyone else” did not include the guy in the Mercedes Benz behind me, whom, by his own account, was busy “checking the maps” and didn’t notice all of us ahead of him who had stopped. My poor, poor Poppy truck! In the five years I have owned it, it has been hit (and hurt) four times. I wonder how long the insurance companies will allow me to keep fixing it…? After all, she’s an old vehicle, even if she’s a good one. I dread to hear what they’ll say this time around. As you can see, the other driver did quite a bit of damage, even though my little Poppy still drives as she should. (Grateful for that.)
Anyway, I’m going to visit my chiropractor to get my neck checked out, but other than a little extra stiffness, I feel fine, so no worries. Grateful for that, too – it could have been a lot worse. Luckily, the tailgate still opened after the crash, so I could unload the plants I brought from work. Some of them had been sitting in their pots in our Excess Yard for longer than I have worked there, so I sold them almost as cheaply as I had bought them. Think very hefty 3g ‘Sunshine Blue’ blueberries for $15 each. I had a broad variation of good plants that I felt deserved a forever home. Happy to say almost all of them sold. With every purchase came an explanation of how to revitalize a root-bound plant, to ensure transplant success. Education is part of the mission here at Dirty Diggers, as is encouraging a more widespread form of plant nerdery.
After unloading, I took a video of them all sitting in my front yard which I meant to post as a teaser, but true to form I forgot to post it. It didn’t matter much – we were swamped even without it. Our fall sale is scheduled for some time in September. I will let you all know when we nail down the date. Below is the video in case you’re curious. The Mahonia ‘Soft Caress’ (which I bought in new) flew out of here fast, as did the Fothergilla, the blueberries and Cotinus ‘Grace’. From a day filled with lots of wonderful moments, the very best part was seeing a few old friends we knew from our now grown kids’ school days, and catch up with them. It made my heart all soft. Or maybe I should say even softer than usual.
Kind of a crappy video, but you get the idea. (Maybe that’s why I never posted it…?) That little plant with lots of brown leaves in the bottom right corner toward the end, was not part of the sale. It is a bay leaf (Laurus nobilis) I rescued from the compost heap. It obviously suffered from the winter we had, but there is still life in it. We use a lot of bay leaves in our cooking, so it will probably be potted up near the kitchen somewhere so we can haul it inside before the next ice storm hits.
In all, it was a great day, and I can’t wait to do it all over again. 🙂
It’s been a few very busy weeks and I have a few things to report. After a meeting this evening, I feel I can finally relax a little – there is nothing pressing tomorrow, other than to try to get to work on time. I even took a gander in the garden a little. It’s quite torn up at the moment. My amazingly strong neighbor dug up the entire stand of black bamboo that had started to spread. He wanted some for boxes in his back yard. I warned him that it would likely bloom at any time (I’ve heard that for the past 2-3 years) so it may not be worth the considerable effort. Even so, he decided it was, and no one was happier than I to see it gone. For as much as I loved it, it was beginning to scare me. I definitely owe him dinner!
The floor of the garden are full of bubblegum pink camellia flowers from the ancient camellia that came with the house. I swear, you can fill a green bin per week with just camellia flowers. Not my favorite color, but I do like those tall trunks and the shade it gives.
I’ve been working a lot. I’m working on a master plan for a 5.5 acre lot with mountain views in Camas. It’s a fantastic site! Another project is a ditto master plan for a back yard and an front yard redesign for a house remodel in SW Portland. I’ve been procuring plants for another Camas job and just delivered them last weekend. It’s going to look great! And, this Sunday – quite appropriately for Earth Day – we’re having our 5th Annual Spring Plant Sale. Sadly, it’s on the street outside my house, so I will have to swallow my embarrassment over the state of my yard. I have come to realize that this is one of very few constants in life.
Anyhow, I lost a lot of things this past winter. I mean, who didn’t? And some things have come out because they were too big. So all of a sudden I have space for new things. The only problem is I have no time to plant new things, so there are still pots sitting around everywhere, waiting for their forever homes – if they’re even alive, that is. Very doubtful in some cases…
So, a few things that are alive make me smile every spring.
Adiantum venustum or Himalayan maidenhair fern. The most amazing texture ever! And so tough…I am a devoted fan of any and all ferns. But the curls of this one unfurling is something I wait for every year; Asplenium scolopendrium or Hart’s tongue fern. So sculptural!Lately, I’ve been a big fan of yellow foliage. This is Persicaria ‘Golden Arrow’ – a plant I unwittingly bought from my boss’s wife – long before I worked for him. Funny how that works!
So, there you are. I managed to selectively only show you some things that actually look nice out there, sneakily editing out all the things that don’t. If you’re local, feel free to visit our sale this weekend. We have lots of vendors coming with all kinds of cool stuff. Best of all, there’ll be plenty of planty people to discuss our obsessions with. Hope you can come!
I’ve been a bad blogger. I have pretty much ignored my self-imposed responsibilities to those who still give me time of their day, in favor of mundane things like taxes, dentist visits, and proposal writing, drafting and the usual day job. Normally, this time of year, I would at least have some pretty hellebores to show you, but – though some of them look alright – a surprising number took a remarkably big beating during the ice and snow spell they endured when we were basking in the comparative warmth of Ohio. Who woudda thunk?
Anyway, with not much to show, and even less to tell, it was easy to skip my musings for a while. But, last weekend, my friend Gina of Fernhaven fame whisked me away to a visit to The Oregon Garden, specifically to see the conifer garden. When I first met her, I was astounded to learn her favorite type of plants were conifers. Not that they don’t deserve that kind of adoration – I know that they are an incredibly unique and diverse group of plants. I think my astonishment mostly came from the fact that I knew next to nothing about them. In fact, I’m still extremely intimidated by them. For the most part, my ignorance about them is still pretty much true so therefore, going to the gardens with Gina was an extra-special treat. For years, we’d talked about going in the winter to check out their winter colors. Though it felt like a perfect spring day, it was close enough to long stretches of cold weather that some of that was still on full display.
Here are some of those colors and textures playing against each other. That golden marvel in the middle is a Thuja occidentalis ‘Rheingold’. If you read the tag when you come across it, it will likely say “compact growth habit”. As you can see, it’s important to define just exactly what “compact” means before committing – especially if you have a small garden. There were many intriguing vistas revealing themselves as we walked along the many pathways. I love the contorting trunks of that well-pruned maple as a sculptural focal point in the distance.All green, but what an exhilarating array of textures in this grouping! I wish I could recall the names, but there is so much to learn. It will have to happen over time to stick to my old brain. My only semi-educated guess is the knobbly texture in the foreground. I think that may be a Pinus mugo ‘Jacobsen’. Love the texture! There are quite a few different mugo pines to admire at The Oregon Gardens – most of them a far cry from the hacked up miserables found in parking lots and hell strips everywhere. I blushed when I realized the weight of my ignorance regarding mugo pines.Here, they left a lightning-struck Sequoiadendron giganteum for all to see. I’m amazed the tree is still alive after such a blow, and I really appreciate that they left it so we can still see the effect of that kind of natural process. Many of these tree groupings were assembled on large berms throughout, with the paved pathways snaking around these islands of green. But, there are also many unofficial, smaller paths that take you up and into the plantings so you can stand under the canopy. If you go, I highly recommend veering off the beaten path and exploring those too.It was just that kind of off-beat exploration that made me discover this fantastic tree. Its a juniper – Juniperus pingii to be exact. Out of everything we saw, this remains one of my favorites. To think I’d never even heard of it before…That stringy thing in the middle is one of the very few conifers I also have in my garden; a Chamaecyparis lawsoniana ‘Imbric’s Weeping’. But, this shot was mostly to document some of the astounding variety of form and texture. I don’t know about you, but I find it extremely intimidating to shop for conifers. It’s incredibly educational to come here and see these plants stretched out to their full capacity. That’s true for other plants too, of course, but for some reason I find conifers to be in a different league. So much to learn…The garden has many weeping conifers. Here is Picea abies ‘Aarburg’ strutting its stuff.Yet another Picea – this one COMPLETELY different. This is an Iseli introduction called Picea abies ‘Cobra’. It has a skirt at its feet rivaling the most impressive wedding dress train. Cedrus atlantica glauca ‘Pendula’ is another one that has these long, pliable branches that lend themselves well to training. Here they form and arch over one of the paths. I have one of these in my front yard too. It currently creates a portal into my front yard, but I hope one day it will also droop its soft tentacles all the way out over the sidewalk. The City might not appreciate that kind of encroachment, but I sure would. The massive, spool formed tree right behind the arch is a magnificent red beech – Fagus sylvatica ‘Red Obelisk’. For some reason, I was completely taken with this tree. So perfect…Here it is again, from a distance. Its form is just spectacular! One great advantage of visiting in the winter is that the inter-planted deciduous trees provide a marvelous contrast to the conifers. I have yet to see how it appears in summer, but this time around, I really appreciated their understated, sculptural presence.Like this…Gina taught me that anything that has ‘parvifolia’ in its name refers to the soft, somewhat curved and swirly needles. This is some kind of Pinus parvifolia. If you think all conifers are prickly, try caressing one of these. It’s like petting a big, friendly dog.Did I say the abundance and variation of mugo pines made me have to confront my baffling ignorance face on? That was no lie, but my deep sense of inadequacy was made even more palpable by the number of larches (Larix) we saw. Who knew there are so many?? Delightfully humbled by this trip. The more I think I know, the more I realize how little I know. Therein lies the drive to learn more. Humbling indeed.
In just a few days in Portland Metro, more than 675 trees toppled over, during the two back to back ice storms ravaging the Pacific Northwest a few weeks ago. As you might remember we miraculously managed to get on a plane and out of here in the narrow window between those storms. Our neighbor – who happens to be an arborist – helped us get to the airport on his way to work. He and every other arborist in town were in emergency mode, because… well, it was an emergency. And a long-lasting one at that. They will have their work cut out for them for months to come.
In the waning days of 2023, we planted 14 trees along the rear lot line of a backyard I’ll be working on for a while. They were strategically chosen and placed to block views and to increase privacy. The only part of the property line we left alone was the northwest corner. There, on the neighboring side, were three stately Douglas firs, that not only shielded the view beyond – you could barely see the fence. Last weekend, I went to check on how they fared, and to get some measurements. The trees we planted were fine, but what the…??? What was once an obscured corner was now a gaping hole. The two remaining firs where limbed up in preparation for removal. I was there early in the morning. Soon, a crew of arborists arrived. I asked them what was going on…
Turns out, the tree farthest from the fence had fallen during the storm. One of the arborists observed how completely saturated the soil in the backyard was – there were puddles on the lawn. Doug firs have rather small, narrow root systems. He deduced that the soggy, over-saturated soil likely destabilized the tree, which then – already stressed and weighed down by the ice – succumbed to one of the violent wind gusts that wreaked so much havoc in our fair city. These homeowners were lucky. The falling giant only kissed a small portion of the gutter before it splashed into their pool. Lucky or not, the event spooked them enough to take all three trees out, to prevent another downed tree in a future storm.
For as much as I hate to see mature trees removed, I can understand their precaution. When trees with smaller, more shallow root systems grow in groups – like in a forest – they help support each other. As is often the case in urban settings, there is often just room for single trees. Which means that those with smaller roots have to make do on their own. Trees that are solitary from their early beginnings will develop stronger resistance to wind, etc, but those left standing while the rest of the grove has been cleared are markedly weakened, so circumstances vary quite greatly. Still, I’m starting to understand how little I know about tree roots. I’m convinced we’re going to have to pay a lot more attention to the caliber of what exactly attaches these friendly giants to the ground.
If you look at the Approved Portland Street Tree List, you’ll see that Doug firs are approved street trees. Knowing what I now know, this seems incredibly detached from the physical reality. To date, I have never seen street trees grown in a grove configuration – even in the widest of parking strips. I’m sure there are other misfits on the list, as well. I shudder to think how incapable I am of telling one from the other. There is so much to know… You’d think the bureaucrats composing these lists would think beyond hell-strip size, tree litter, and overhead wires, but this honestly makes me question their competence. Roots should play a big part in how we choose our urban trees, and yet… there exists a disturbing disconnect between what works and what’s officially recommended.
When you see what ice does to a rosebud, you can imagine what it would do to an entire tree…
Anyway, in terms of the privacy aspect of this project, we now have another challenge on our hands. I noticed on my visit that the marshland quality of the neighbors’ yard extended far into the project yard, too. That entire corner was sopping wet. The arborist and I discussed whether it might be an underground seep, or the infamous Oregon clay that prevents it from draining. Whatever it is, we need to deal with it. I’m guessing it’s clay, but I don’t yet know what it looks like in summer. Maybe plant a few borer-resistant Heritage birch trees? They can drink up to 100 gallons of water a day – they are great in damp spots. (Whereas most evergreen conifers are not.) Birches grow fast too. I can just see their white trunks emerge through the dense green of a giant park rhododendron – or two. The rhodie would eventually take care of the privacy issue in winter as well.
“Again?” my boss said when – after nearly two weeks in Ohio – I asked for another day off. When he heard I wanted to take a quick trip up to Seattle to see the NW Flower and Garden Show at the Convention Center, he kindly consented. After all, he’s a plant person too… he understands.
In early morn, I jumped the first available train – which was a half an hour late. The show was two hours into its opening day when I finally got there. To my joy, it was rather crowded. I hadn’t been to this show since before the pandemic, so it made me happy to see that at least us garden folks had not become overly reclusive. To be honest, I didn’t take as much time to go through the display gardens as they probably deserved. That part of the crowded-ness spooked me a little so I decided to stay on the outside of the displays. I have since realized that I missed quite a bit by not exploring the insides, but I guess that’s what Instagram is for. Some folks took fabulous photos that at least partially made up for that omission.
This display really spoke to me. I just loved that white, helix like structure, and how it sort of rotated as you moved around it. This was unfortunately not one of the gardens one was allowed to walk through.This display evoked fairytales, and a fun play with scale, as the large logs were turned on their ends and arranged to resemble a decomposing stump. Inside the stump on the moss, were little fairy homes. As a viewer, you felt like you shrunk, to almost a Lilliputian size, peering into the mythical world of the forest folks.This is one that I regretted not going into, after seeing what others posted on Instagram. But, it was pretty cool from outside as well. I really liked that big water feature with the floating water celery.
As you can see, the variation in the different displays was quite exhilarating. Something for everyone!
On the Skybridge, there are always fun little balcony displays. This year, I thought, one of them left the others in the dust. This entire thing was made from seed heads from Devil’s Claw (Proboscidea lutea), water chestnuts (Trapa nutans) and berries from Texas mountain laurel (Sophora secundiflora). Mindblowing!Here is that screen up close – entirely made with seed pods from the Devil’s Claw plant. It’s held together by those little curls at the end of the seed pod. Crazy cool!Here is a close-up of the water chestnut/berry drapery. I was so impressed by this that I looked up the creators – who also happened to be selling their eponymous Obsidian Windchimes at the show, in booth 1111. Even their booth number was cool…The Orchid Society’s display was amazing as always. As if the organizers had read my mind, after having seen all those gorgeous orchids, and knowing with full certainty that they would never ever survive my bumbling care, I soon after stumbled upon a perfect place for me to depose of my ailing houseplants; an organization that rescues house plants. I like that idea, and yes – you guessed it. They had a lot of orchids in there.Fun vendors were abundant! I was really tempted by these octopus tentacles from Trapp Industries. I also got a huge kick out of these concrete faces. They looked oddly familiar… Sure enough, they have sold these at the Portland Saturday Market for years. This made me very happy, because I thought one of these would be a perfect Valentine’s gift for my best beloved. I spent way too much time trying to choose one for him, but eventually I decided that if I wait until I’m back in Portland, he can choose his favorite himself. Or maybe he would want one of their patterened balls…? Hard to tell, but these were so much fun! I played around with these for quite some time, as well. Olander Earthworks will definitely get a visit from us one of these days at Saturday Market when they open back up in March.
As far as nurseries go, the one I had hoped to see was not there this year. Keeping it Green always have amazing plants – often for shady situations like mine. Their website is still up, but they are sold out of a lot of things. Anyone knows what’s going on with them? I hope they will be here for many years to come…
Catering to the houseplant craze, there were lots of indoor plant vendors, air plant hawkers, and orchid specialists. I also saw a vivarium supplier. So much great stuff to explore… One thing that everyone raved about in days to come, were all the seminars and talks that were offered. My time was so limited, I didn’t have time to check those out.
I don’t think I saw anyone I knew – which of course left me with more time to explore the show itself. I say “I don’t think I saw” because I’m as face blind as they come. If I’ve only met a person a few times, I may very well not recognize them. So, events like this always stress me out a little. It can be an embarrassing affliction. So, if anyone saw me, and I failed to acknowledge them, rest assured I did not ignore them on spite. I was just reading up on this a little. The fancy name is Prospagnosia. According to the article, it may develop after a traumatic brain injury. I just learned this, and it instantly made me wonder if that skateboard accident I had back in high school sealed my fate.
In other news, my kind and talented husband is working on building me a new website. Nothing to see yet – it’s under construction. An unfortunate consequence of switching domain hosts is that I inadvertently lost email for about a week. That was stressful, as the crazy season is about to begin. When I finally got email service back, I learned that I made Best of Houzz in 2024. It’s not as impressive as it sounds – it is entirely based on how many reviews you get – but it does look good on a website. And good reviews are so wonderful to get, that a Houzz badge really is just gravy – a sort of affirmation.
I immediately panicked and uploaded some new pictures, and cursed how disorganized I am with all my photos. As you all know, young gardens usually leave a lot to be desired. Best to wait a couple of years, to let things fill in a little, and then go back for better photos. Anyway, these are the sorts of things that drive me nuts. I haven’t figured out a way to keep track of it all, and it keeps me frantic and preoccupied.
I will do my best to post regularly. My nice, long break is over and I can feel the burbling of spring even if it’s cold and rainy outside. Please forgive me if I lapse now and again, and have a great week!
Jeffrey Mansion – the home of a turn of the century industrialist, built in the first decade of the 1900’s (1905 or 06, I think it was) is now a public park in Columbus, Ohio with expansive trails along Alum Creek – which is a tributary to the Scioto River.
My friend Bill and I met while working as pages at the Columbus Metropolitan Library, while in school. Back in those days we hung out a lot, but as things go, we eventually lost touch. We reconnected a couple of years ago when I visited Columbus. I was excited to learn that, over the years, he had become quite the tree afficionado. On our recent visit, he took us on a tour around the expansive grounds of Jeffrey Mansion. Turns out, he now provides tree advisory for the Jeffrey Park Preservation Committee in the City of Bexley. He had some ideas he wanted to run by me to get my thoughts on the matter. But first some building shots.
Back in those days, those who could modeled their homes after the English. Quite evident here, both in the architectural detailing as well as the sweeping, park-like grounds.
The approach is meant to impress – a long, gated driveway terminating in a planted turnaround. Though I appreciate the intended formality, those little sheared boxwoods don’t quite do it for me. See the bark damage on the tree on the right? They obviously have to contend with a lot of deer. With an entire forest at their disposal (as you will soon see) you wish they would stick to using those trees for their annual antler shedding, but alas… Just out of the picture on the left, I was happy to see what I think was a Stewartia on the left. The bark and overall form gave it away. Besides that, I had a hard time discerning what some of these trees were, without their leaves. I can usually tell the dogwoods from the others, but the rest is a jumble of generality. People who know their trees even in winter impress me!A close-up of the entrance. What a beautiful door!I liked their winter planters with the color of the magnolia indumentum echoing the brickwork.A porte cochere is such a great idea, especially as rains intensify.Moving toward the back, I was impressed by the stonewalls and bastions anchoring the mansion. Here is more of that fabulous stonework. This would be a great place for hide-and-seek!Past the lit-up tennis courts and down toward the creek were lots of hefty Sycamore trees. They often grow around riverbanks. The big debate currently swirling around the community is whether to put lights up for the relatively newly installed pickleball courts as well. There are at least two good arguments not to. 1) The decibels of this noisy sport far exceed the levels that will destroy the native owls’ chances of night-time humting. In other words, it will disrupt the rhythms of the park’s wildlife. 2) It’s noisy enough to annoy nearby neighbors as well. Time will tell. Bill and I are booth rooting for the owls…We walked down to Alum Creek. The dark tracery of bare trunks contrasted against the shimmery green is such a pretty sight in winter!There are boardwalks……but we mostly walked along the soft pathways.Fallen trees are left to decay in peace – as they would have in nature.The bark of this Cottonwood was so striking! I wonder if the damage at the bottom was caused by deer as well? Somehow, it didn’t seem to bother the tree much – it was a towering specimen. Because of the nearby river, there are some wetlands in this low-laying area. Bill wants to plant a grouping of Bald Cypresses (Taxodium distichum) near this spot. I think that would be a nice textural break next to all the broadleaf tree varieties. And those funky “knees” will be an attraction in itself when those cypresses mature. Japanese honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica thunbergii), Burning bush (Euonymus alatus), and Poison ivy (Toxicodendron rydbergii) are invasive here. As we have ivy-pulling parties in the PNW, they have similar efforts to try to eradicate these plants here in the Midwest. You can se the snake-like trace after a removed Poison Ivy vine on that large trunk in the middle of this photo.Now we’re walking back up toward the mansion again.This is another spot Bill wants to dress up a little. It’s a street corner so has rather high visibility. With just grass and tall trees, he wants to soften the transition a bit from the popular ball and frisbee field and the woodlands by planting shrubs and smaller flowering trees like witch hazels. I wholeheartedly agree, and suggested he take inspiration from Cedric Pollet’s fantastic book ‘Winter Gardens’. If you haven’t seen it – it is a gorgeous book with photos that will quickly disperse any winter gloom one might experience. Aside from the more unique trees featured in the book, a lot of the plants that make up these colorful tapestries are surprisingly common; dogwoods, heathers, mahonia, bergenia, grasses… This book is a great reminder that it’s not the individual plants that make a garden sing – it’s the manner of how they are put together, and how they play off each other. This book is a Master Class on that topic.
It will be interesting to see what he does. I will definitely try to find out, next time I’m in Columbus. 🙂
Remember that old song ‘Black is Black’? Originally put out by a band called Los Bravos in 1967, my generation is likely more familiar with the disco version – LOL! For reasons you will soon understand, this song popped into my head when surveying the storm damage after the really nasty weather the Pacific NW endured the past couple of weeks. But first, a recap of our adventure when it first began…
On January 17th, when we first heard the spiky, tinkly sounds of ice drops on our windows, my best beloved and I were packing to fly to Ohio to see our families and lots of dear friends. The plane was scheduled to leave at 6am the next morning. Needless to say, we got a little worried. I decided to check the Uber reservation we made a few days earlier. No surprise, the driver had canceled. We also called Lyft, but got no takers. John called every cab company in town, and they all laughed at the idea that they would even attempt to drive on the ice rink Portland was rapidly becoming.
This is what ice rain does to all things, living and dead.
Regretting that we had decided to NOT put snow tires on the car the week before when plummeting temperatures were the only threat, we frantically considered our increasingly meager options. In desperation, we asked our neighbors if they could possibly take us to the airport if we put chains on our car. The chains we had belonged to another car, and it was only luck that they also fit the current one. To our astonishment and endless gratitude, they agreed to help us! So, around midnight, John was outside in the dark, laying in the rain on an old blanket to try to not slide down the icy driveway, putting chains on our car.
Having a plan made us feel so much better! At this point, most airlines had delayed their departures from PDX, but not ours. As trees toppled over en masse and power outages crippled the world all around us, we waited for any kind of alert from Delta, but nothing came. The flight was not actually here yet – it was due in to PDX at 1am. We decided to try to get a couple of hours of sleep. By 3am when we got up to get ready to go, we had finally gotten a text saying our flight was delayed until noon. Hooray!! Somehow these kinds of things always seem more manageable in daylight. I texted our neighbors and told them to go back to sleep. We did too.
In the morning, I decided to test our chains on the roads by going to pick up some burritos for the flight at our local taco shop a few blocks away. As I rolled down the driveway, I heard an awful noise. The chain on the passenger side snapped! The car’s usefulness on the frozen streets was now in question, but I did make it to the taco shop to pick up our food. One observation of interest was that – once out of the neighborhood streets, the main drags seemed to be thawing – and thawing fast. There was hope!
The gutters were veritable lakes. Now, I didn’t want to get my boots wet, so I decided to try to jump over the most narrow part of the lake. My landing was spectacular! The sidewalk was of course sheer ice, so I did what I imagine was a highly amusing, uncoordinated attempt to anyone who might be watching, and landed stretched out, face down, buffered only by my forearms. The embarrassment hurt more than the actual impact, and I secretly wondered if, at some point, my acrobatic flip would soon be trending on Tic-Toc. Thankfully, I haven’t seen it yet, if it did. And yes, I got wet – LOL!
As I pulled up at home with food in hand and parked our ailing vehicle, our neighbor was outside, dressed for work. He’s an arborist, and had been called in for all the emergency tree removals caused by the ice, thus far. Per all the weather apps, we were now waiting for ice storm number two to roll in. Anyway, this wonderful man gingerly drove us to the airport in his partner’s all-wheel drive Subaru before heading to the many, various tree crash sites. We were so grateful, and the relief was immense.
Once at the airport, we experienced two more short delays, but finally boarded. The entire TSA line leading up to it was full of people with the same kinds of stressful stories as ours, and there was an almost giddy atmosphere – we had all made it. It felt quite unusual, and I experienced no small measure of privilege. As life in Portland stalled under the ice, we took off to blue skies up above, just before the second ice storm arrived. Everything went flawlessly from beginning to end. Thank you, Delta! To truly emphasize the contrast, on our first morning in Ohio, we woke up to a gentle, beautiful, powdery snowfall that had blanketed the world during the night. All around us when we shoveled, were the bright red Cardinals I miss so much. It was an absolute Christmas card, and I sent many worrying thoughts to our Portland friends who were to be in the thick of it for days on end. We got out just in time, and spent some blissful days reconnecting with family and friends. We almost didn’t want to come back!
A terribly blurry photo, but it’s the best I got. I tried for a while, but they did not like me snooping around. He’s sitting in Mom’s budding ‘Diane’ witch hazel. So pretty!
Alas, returned we did. Finally today, I had a chance to walk around the yard to take it all in. Let’s start with the trees. The giant magnolia in the front lost a couple of smaller branches, but thankfully nothing bigger than an inch or so, thick. In the backyard, I noticed on of the more protruding branches of the Viburnum that makes up my verdant “cave” along the property line, seemed unusually low. Turns out, it wasn’t completely broken, but had cracked where it met the trunk, and was precariously resting on some string lights. It was one of those branches that I appreciated as it created shade for one of my little seating areas. Because plants like more sun than I do, I had considered taking it out, but not yet acted on it. Now Mother Nature had decided for me. I have a feeling at least a few things down below will grow a little better this year. I’ll just have to sit somewhere else if it gets too sunny for me.
Here it is – considerably lower than usual.And there is the break.It’s pretty long. I have a feeling its absence will make quite the difference, light wise.Here is my first black plant – Grevillea rosmarinifolia ‘Scarlet Sprite’. Damn it – I really liked this one!Covered in buds when we left, it now looks pretty much dead. There are still some green parts on the inside, but I don’t know if it will make it. What do you guys think? I think this is the end of the Chilean Lantern – Crinodendron hookerianum. It looks terrible!Both the Chilean fern Blechnum chilense and tough as nails Epimedium sulphureum look pretty necrotic. These, though, I’m pretty sure, will come back no problem.This one is not black, but I think it’s pretty safe to say that there will be no flowers on the Bamboo iris – Iris confusa this year. This makes me sad – it’s one of my spring favorites!Most of the Guitar plant (Lomatia tinctoria) is still green, but there are some worrying parts to it, as you can see. It’s currently in a pot in the sunniest spot I could think of in my garden, but I think I need to find it a better home. There doesn’t seem to be enough sun to keep it happy. It’s awfully lean-y.Pittosporum ‘Ebony Giant’ is naturally black, but these leaves – on a normally ever-black plant – are brittle and crunchy. Will it leaf out again? Time will tell – all I know is that these leaves are toast. It also leans toward the sun. It’s big, but I’ve been thinking of trying to move it. Not sure if Pittosporum take well to moving, but I guess I will find out.One dark presence that sailed through the harsh weather is the ever useful Black Mondo grass (Ophiopogon planiscapus ‘Nigrescens’). I’m extra grateful for its grit, right now.
Another black grass that won’t quit that I’m currently NOT so appreciative of is my black bamboo (Phyllostachys nigra ‘Hale’s Form’). I planted it 14-15 years ago within a buried 2′ barrier of metal roofing to contain it. It finally broke through a few years ago – just when I started to hear people in the know talking about the pending Phyllostachys nigra bloom. So far, I’ve (sort of) managed to keep it in check, and each year, I keep waiting for it to bloom, so it will quietly slip into eternity. So far, it hasn’t, and I’m beginning to wonder if it ever will. The part of my garden surrounding the black bamboo just sailed up to the top of my garden priority list. It’s happily spreading in all directions, and is beginning to scare me. So please, pretty bamboo, do your bloom thing so you can join all the other dead plants. I really, really need you to.
While I do mourn the dead plants, there is no lack of possible replacements. Before the ice storms rolled in, we had an Arctic dip in temperatures that lasted the better part of a week. Work was canceled and I had another few nice, lazy days at home. I stuffed my shed and the back of my truck full of anything mobile worth rescuing. Some have frost burn, but for the most part, I think they will live. While the evergreen Daphnes outside in the ground look rather defoliated after the rough treatment of the past few weeks, the yet to be planted one looks glorious and perfumes the shed with its heady, citrusy perfume.
No one knows what future gardens will be able to sustain with the wild swings in our destabilizing climate. I’m guessing the ones that will survive the longest are the ones I call rollercoaster plants. They are tougher than most, and can handle large and rapid drops and dramatic increases in temperature without much tempering off/on. And they are pliable enough to resist all but the most violent winds. For as much as I loved them, it’s clear that these storm victims don’t qualify for that distinction, and therefore aren’t the most stellar candidates for future plantings. At least not in my garden – sigh.
Happy 2024! Hope you all had a wonderful month of celebrations, however you do it. Starting with Thanksgiving, I took a nice, long break from all things Optic Verve, and it was just wonderful. It just ended this past weekend. I had intended to make a clean cut-off and start working again on the 2nd, but I have discipline problems, so I there you have it – I took another week. LOL!
Toward the end of 2023, I was just exhausted and wanted nothing to do with anything or anyone. All I wanted to do was pour my battered soul into some meaningless, inconsequential creative activities for an audience of just one. I decorated around the house, cooked, tried to improve my baking skills, sorted and got rid of tons of stuff, and – toward the end – played with my beads which had sat untouched for the past two years. It was blissful and cathartic. I still haven’t taken the decorations down, and I’m not feeling bad about it quite yet.
I had some great ditch finds from the past year; a couple of chunks of wood, and some scrap steel. They became seasonal arrangements, some in lieu of a Christmas tree.
Found this great chunk of oak wood in the ditch on my lunchtime walk. I finally went back and grabbed it. It has already served me well; here as a Thanksgiving arrangement with feathers, birds, berries and corn.Here it is again in a Christmas version. It had this sawed slit partially through it, which proved a perfect place to lodge a piece of scrap steel to hold up a little sleigh I found at the Portland Flower Market. That’s where the reindeer came from too. I’m not normally much for cutesie things (which I kind of think this is) but it was a fun challenge. It was the deer that inspired it. They were sold as hanging ornaments, but I thought it would be more fun to make them look like they were taking off. The challenge had me hooked. I found some thick wire and with the help of a Dremel tool, lots of cussing and more perseverance than is normal for me, I managed to make them “fly”. Silly as it is, I was proud of that one.Here is found stump number two, another great ditch find that required to be picked up with the truck. A little greens and a few gnomes, and it felt quite festive. A little big for our little house, but it filled its function. I think this one might have to go in a fern table once it’s been disassembled. The other stump is proving way too versatile for indoor fun, so I’ll probably hang on to that one.On a whim, a few years ago, I bought two golden antlers at the after Christmas sale. Why, I don’t know – until this year, I had never figured out a use for them. I finally used them in a little homage to Rudolph. A little farfetched perhaps, but there is his red nose. Right before Thanksgiving, I did a repeat of last year’s pumpkin rolls. They are as tasty as they are cute. Recipe here.This year’s corporate Christmas party was at Amaterra Vineyards. The best part of the dinner was this scrumptious salad, which I immediately went home and recreated, before I had time to forget it. So good, and so pretty! Recipe adaptation below, if you’re interested.It’s not Christmas unless your house smells like gingerbread. So, of course I had to make some of those too. My favorites are the moose and the pig. I got the moose cookie cutter from one of my favorite uncles, so using it always makes me think of him.Definitely not as pretty as the one in the recipe I used, but this is my life’s first Black Forest cake. Since it’s winter, I resorted to using frozen and dried cherries, so it looks about as cheerful as the gates of Mordor. But, I can tell you that the lack of color had no impact on the taste. It was delicious. I softened the dried cherries in the kirschwasser, and pureed them in a food processor before applying. Luckily we had help in eating it – it was a big cake!This was our first Christmas sans kids. A bit boring, honestly, and at least I was craving more human interaction than we could get from each other. So, on Christmas Day, I baked cardamom rolls. As soon as they were out of the oven, we put them in a big basket, and drove around to friends and neighbors we hadn’t seen in a while, and doled out rolls as a little surprise cheer. After we had hit seven houses, we had only a few rolls left – one each for the two of us. The last two went to a frozen looking man laying on the sidewalk outside the corner store, looking miserable. Small and insignificant, perhaps, but when he bit into it, his face brightened, and he gave me a thumbs up. And then, it finally felt like Christmas.After sorting books and tons of other stuff our young men left behind when they moved to Sweden, I finally had a nice big surface with decent lighting to play on. I pulled out all my bead boxes, and started making earrings. Such fun! I made about a dozen pairs. The big green beads in these came from one of my mother’s old necklaces. I just love how chunky and irregular they are!See those little round, red beads at the top? My paternal grandmother gave me those when I visited them in Stockholm when I was just a little girl. I don’t even remember what happened to the rest of them, but I only had two left. Can you believe I still had them after all these years? Anyway, I felt they needed to go into something special, so here they are. I gave a bunch of the other earrings I made away, but these two pairs I’m keeping for me.
And that, my friends, is what I’ve been up to this past month and a half, and why you might not have seen or heard a lot from me. January is already racing by, and I know I’m late to the chorus of well wishes, but let’s hope 2024 is the year when sanity and positive actions surge across the globe, and we pivot toward a better world for all. Happy New Year!
We’ve all heard the term “parking lot plants”, correct? And most of us think of them with with at least some measure of disdain. They are common to the point of nauseam, they are often sheared into nearly unrecognizable green things by mow-and-blow crews with zero finesse, and they often have very little nutritional value to indigenous pollinators.While I agree they might be “boring”, I have earned a whole new respect for some of these plants. They truly are the fast-food workers of the plant world; they do their job underappreciated and taken for granted. While they might not thrive, they do survive – in often just awful conditions. They tolerate all those fumes and reflected heat as champs, and might even recover after having been trodden on or backed into.
I’m here to tell you that the world of landscape designers are trying hard to be different – and not always with much success. I write a lot of quotes with the most outlandish requests. In last week’s post, I tried illustrating the different layers of the horticultural growing world. In terms of plant procurement, that is the framework we are confined to. For the most part, anyway. In terms of construction schedules, landscape installation is obviously always the very last to go in, so if the projected completion of a job with an unusual plant list is several years out, one option is to contract grow the plants. We don’t do it a lot, but it definitely happens.
A view over some of our plants in waiting.
You can definitely tell when the landscape architect behind the plant list is a “plant person”. They might include some really interesting varieties which makes writing the quotes more fun, as I can envision what they are thinking. In theory, anyway. Often, though, what I see is that once planted, some of the plants they prescribe would be doomed. Sub-alpine grasses just aren’t going to be all that happy in an urban setting – especially not without the guarantee of specialty care. Which – quite frankly – they usually don’t get. And while they request said grasses in a 5g pot, we’d be lucky to find them in a 4″ pot here in Oregon.
These kinds of plant lists often prompt us to go to California for our purchases. Timing is crucial here, and construction schedules often change. A delay might mean these glorious plants from the Sunshine State may have to endure the sogginess of an Oregon winter. Climate change aside, we’re not quite there yet, to make these beauties feel at home, so that’s not always a pretty sight, as you can imagine. Truth be told, they may not have survived had they been in the ground either, unless they had been given the proper soil, drainage, etc. Which is obviously the responsibility of the landscape architect to specify, but ultimately falls on how well the plan is executed. And, as any gardener knows, on how long these plants had to get themselves established.
There are lot of moving parts in new construction, and our part at the end is the only one that deals with living things. This gets forgotten a lot. Construction managers have minimal sense of plant needs. And architects usually have minimal sense of the world of horticulture. They tell us what to buy, and we buy it – often twice, sometimes three times. It reminds me of how aghast I was when in architecture school, the only color we learned was crammed into two afternoons in sophomore year. I suspect landscape architects get about the same amount of training in regards to plants and horticulture as we did with color – in other words minimal. For some, personal interest and affinity will fill in the gaps over time, but for the most part, they project a vision that might not be entirely feasible in the circumstances following the installation, even if very pretty in theory.
And that, my friends is why parking lot plants are so common. They can handle both rough conditions and how little most of us know. And – occasionally – they are put together in a way that makes them look really good. That’s one part we need to work harder on.
More plants – view over our spill-over dock area, where all day long plants are loaded and unloaded and grouped together until they are ready to leave. It’s like an airport with passenger stopovers – constant change.
Flutter & Hum 