Color It Wild

I'm an equal opportunity garden enthusiast, but I get a touch zealous about what I call handmade gardens-those designed, planted and maintained by the homeowner(s). Handmade gardens are the most personality rich and idiosyncratic of gardens, reflecting, as they do, the undiluted vision of their makers. These are gardens without compromise. And one of my favorite handmade gardens hereabouts is the creation of Les and Monique Anthony, whose Wallingford, CT garden was on tour yesterday as part of the Connecticut Horticultural Society Open Gardens series.

Why do I like it? Well, here's one reason: Les (who's a dab hand with a can of spraypaint) and Monique share a vibrant, playful sense of color. It's apparent in their plantings, which are exceptionally rich in colorful foliage but also in their "stuff," their ornaments, doodads, thingamajiggies, and what not. The chairs, the pots, the tables, on and on it goes. Even something as simple as a metal orb is rethought by virtue of several wildly varied shades of spray paint. I never tire of looking at it. And we'll be back, to see what Les and Monique do with foliage.

Pergolas, and Fine Gardening's Photo Blitz

I worked several years as the managing editor at Fine Gardening magazine, and for many more as a contributing editor, so I wasn't too surprised to get a call from the most-excellently-named associate editor Brandi Spade (left), who'd run across an old photo that included part of one of my pergolas (I've since built several more). Anyway, she needed pictures to accompany a story she was developing about pergola-making, so she and newbie editor Ann Stratton arrived yesterday for a pergola photo blitz.

Below is my best-looking pergola, its entry framed by a few colorful, tropicalesque pots. Any structure adds a synergistic effect to a garden, with enduring bones that create a strong dialog with the more ephemeral plantings that surround them. And any structure looks good all year. I value pergolas, especially, because of the way they soften the transition between indoors and out. Under cover of one, you're sort of betwixt and between, not really inside, not really outside.



Best of all, the inner sanctum of a pergola is what Julie Moir Messervy refers to in her superlative book "The Inward Garden" as an archetypal space, a place that resonates with the magic and mystery of the settings we loved as children exploring our new world. I used to love making forts under the forsythia bushes, so it's probably no accident that a plant-draped, sheltering kind of space is still deeply satisfying to me. I don't know whether Julie would call this a "cave" or a "harbor", or even an "island" (for its feeling of separation from the rest of the world), but what matters is that the cover of the pergola provides me a meaningful retreat.



Because I like pergolas, and the feeling they give me-by inviting me, from the outside, or the sense of security and embrace they provide from within--I've got a few. My veggie garden, though worn out by now, still looks inviting thanks to the pergola attached to my garden shed. Those morning glories-'Heavenly Blue', what else-provide a pleasing echo to the shed's blue hues. By the way, if there is any way to get a truer, long lasting blue into the garden, or anything better than this plant-and-forget-about-it morning glory, please let me know.


Finally, there's my entry way pergola, last to be built, but not least. Slowly but surely it is being covered by climbing hygdrangea, but in the meantime, it frames our doorway and the garden entry. And eases the in/out transition. Like the others, it is of very simple contstruction. I contemplated making it fancy with lots of layers and ornamental cuts, but in the end decided I wanted to stick with the architectural vernacular of the house. Its staunchly colonial, salt-box style would be compromised by anything else. Far as I 'm concenred, the only rule worth having for pergolas is this one: Make your plans, then use wood one size up-6x6 uprights instead of 4x4, 2x8 rafters instead of 2x6, etc. As with so many things in the garden, bigger is almost always better.

There's a Nekkid Lady Out There

The Artiste hosted a painting party this weekend. About ten of her pals gathered in the back garden and spent the day painting and sketching a model they'd hired. Their rapt attention was amazing, and everyone was in such a deep state of creativity that they hardly spoke. You could just feel a wave of energy emanating from their collective easel. Once it got toward late afternoon, paintbrushs were exchanged for wine and mojitos--did I ever tell you I make the BEST mojitos?--and a little review and criticism of each other's work. Here's a sampler of the results:

After work , it was time for play.

So, we retired to the knoll, for a torch-lit, potluck dinner and the warmth of Birdboy's fire.

Follow The Burning Man

I've always wanted to attend Burning Man, the sci-fi/art/music/tribal event held each year around this time at Black Rock City in the Nevada desert. But I never have. This year though, I've happened onthe next best thing, the Burning Blog, which offers fine coverage of all the goings on. I guess it's just about the next best thing to being there. You might also check out Burning Man.

Brussels Loves Begonias

Three million begonias is a lot of begonias-enough to make this 300 square yard floral carpet, which brightens downtown Brussels. These are cut flowers, laid down right on top of the cobblestones. One hot, hot sunny day and the whole thing must be toast. Talk about ephemeral art. Belgians have been recreating these vast medieval carpet patterns with begonia bloms for almost 40 years as part of their ongoing efforts to promote interest in and awareness of the flower. Certainly gets my attention.

Hat tip: Martha Cheshire and First Post

Art-full Gardens of LongHouse

I've seen gardens that displayed art, and gardens that were artfully planted, but I've never seen anything quite like the LongHouse Reserve, where outdoor art and horticultural high style meet in a seamless embrace. This East Hampton, NY sanctuary aims to "exemplify living with art"--and it does. Wandering its trails and open spaces is a journey of playful discovery, enriched by unusual landforms, contemporary sculpture, and the singular beauty of artfully imagined gardens. At left stand --no, not fallen meteorites--strange, stonelike orbs: "Untitled (Round Forms)" by Grace Knowlton.

Cobalt rods by glass master Dale Chihuly rise from a swirl of grasses.

The arbor re-invented: "Entrance to a Garden" by Dennis Oppenheim. If you actually pass through this intriguing blue structure, you're rewarded with an almost secret seating spot, a welcoming bench perched near a wisteria. And, of course, it's not every day that you see an elephant doing a trunk stand, but maybe that's a good thing. "Elefandret" by Miguel Barcelo.

Below, "Fly's Eye Dome, designed by Buckminster Fuller, is seen through the open "Sea of the Ear-Ring" by Takashi Soga.

Throughout LongHouse, visitors happen upon clusters of primitive-looking pots positioned with dramatic flair.

I especially like these three studies in shape, perched atop a sand dune near the garden's entry. Their somber hues and enigmatic forms are deeply mysterious, and linger in the mind long after leaving the LongHouse Reserve's artful oasis.

The Felder File

Felder Rushing, one of my favorite horticulturists, is profiled in the New York Times. In it, he talks at length about his slow gardening approach--it's a good way to go. While I disagree with Felder's assertion that a bottle tree has some of the same qualities as a Dale Chihuly sculpture, I'm enamored with the man's practical, common-sensical approach to gardening. And his notion that gardening should be all about experimenting and having fun.

Anyone who keeps a garden in the back of their pick-up truck is likely to have a few other unconventional ideas. I also like, though I may not care to emulate, his wacky sense of garden ornament-brightly painted tire planters, mannequins, pink flamingos, rebar and the like. But his off-the-wall approach is liberating. The secret to a satisfying garden, after all, is following wherever your instincts lead rather than slavishly heeding horticultural conventions. It's an attitude thing. Thus this Felder credo: "Doesn't matter what you do, or how you do it, your neighbors are gonna talk about you ANYWAY."

Furthermore, I'm a devoted listener to Felder's public radio show, "The Gestalt Gardener," which you can also pick up through his website. I borrowed the pictures of bulb-juggling Felder and his garden from Felder's website. Thanks, Felder!

Chrissie's Cool Dragon

My friend the indefatigable gardener Chrissie D'Esopo is always full of surprises. I don't think she ever sleeps. I can't believe how much she gets done each day. Her ever-expanding gardens are always weed-free, immaculate and edged crisply as fresh-pressed pants. All that in spite of the fact that she kicks off each season by singlehandedly planting 20,000--yes, 20,000--annuals and 500 containers. Then she has to water the pots every day, and they are ALL OVER her garden. But she still has time to concoct and complete new projects. Like this topiary dragon, a mossy monster guarding the side of her house. It's been lurking there for a few years, and looks better each summer. Chrissie's been threatening to make a one-of-a-kind water feature--a life-size topiary elephant rearing up on its hind legs and spouting water from its trunk. Can't wait to see that one.

Got Cups?

Recycling is a good thing. It can even be a great thing, artistically speaking. "The Gravity of Color, Series #5" a sculpture by Lisa Hoke, is made entirely of paper and plastic cups. It's on display at the New Britain Museum of American Art, a gem of a museum in nearby New Britain, CT, and should hang there, more or less, until the cups start falling off the wall. Think of the potential for recycled art work in the garden: old tools, broken wheelbarrows, pots, seed packets, plant tags...hmmm.