Colouring Your Garden

It’s baaaaaack – the white stuff that is.

Earlier this year I began a discussion on garden colour with a post entitled: Colour – the Absence of White. The title was a play on words of sorts – both a twist on the artist’s definition of white (the absence of colour) and the fact that the snow, that dreaded white stuff, was finally gone, revealing the colours of spring. I had hoped to follow up with a series of posts on colour, but was so busy over the summer trying to get caught up with my design work, that it just never happened. Now the snow has returned, our northern gardens are all tucked in for their long winter’s nap, and I have a little time on my hands. It seems appropriate then, that I pick up where I left off back in May. In that introductory post, I presented and discussed the challenges and complexities of colouring our gardens – a finite colour palette, variable bloom times, harsh sunlight, existing colours in the surrounding landscape, the life cycle of a plant or garden – to name a few.

So how do we as gardeners, mitigate and manage these inevitabilities?  To begin with we might ask ourselves, ‘What is colour?’ I thought it would be interesting to see how a ‘regular Joe’ might answer this question – so I asked my sons (one of whom happens to be named Joe, but nothing regular about him). “The frequency of the light waves bouncing off an object,” he replied – not bad, but it only describes one aspect of colour.  The other son smirked and pointing at his brother quipped, “Yeah… what he said” –  always the class clown. I then asked my husband, a bit of a renaissance man with a love of both art and science. He thought for a moment, “Colour occupies the space between black and white,” was his response – trust him to wax philosophical. A text-book definition might read something like, ‘Colour is the property of an object that remains when all other properties (size, shape, texture etc.) are eliminated’, or ‘Color is that perception by which we can differentiate otherwise identical objects… blah blah blah’ .

Interesting perspectives y’all but in fact, colour isn’t a single attribute. Albert Munsell, an early 20th century American artist, was one of the first colour theorists to propose that an individual colour is actually comprised of three different attributes:

  • Hue, which Munsell defined as: “the quality by which we distinguish one color from another, as a red from a yellow, a green, a blue or a purple.” It is represented by the hue circle.
  • Value, which according to Munsell is: “the quality by which we distinguish a light color from a dark one,” and is represented by the value scale.
  • Chroma, which Munsell defined as: “the degree of departure of a colour from the neutral color of the same value,” and it is represented by the Chroma scale.
Munsell's 3 attributes of colour. Graphics: Sue Gaviller

Munsell’s 3 attributes of colour. Graphics: Sue Gaviller

Confused yet? Well bear with me – it should become clearer. Munsell arranged these three attributes into a three-dimensional figure known as the Munsell Colour Space. Hue is displayed circumferentially, value is placed along the vertical axis, with darkest at the bottom and lightest at the top, and chroma radiates horizontally from the centre, moving from neutral outward to full chroma.

Munsell Colour Space showing Hue, Value and Chroma. Graphics: Sue Gaviller (adapted from Hue, Value and Chroma Chart, applepainter.com)

Munsell Colour Space showing Hue, Value and Chroma.
Graphics: Sue Gaviller (adapted from Hue, Value and Chroma Chart, applepainter.com)

The above image represents only one horizontal segment – the entire 3D figure, called the Munsell Colour Solid, looks more like a warped sphere (image below left). The sphere is warped because colours don’t all behave the same way – individual hues have differing chromatic intensity and reach full chroma at varying value levels. But I’m getting ahead of myself here – I’ll elaborate on each of the three attributes in subsequent posts.

Munsell Color Solid - insde

A look inside the Munsell Color Solid, from: A Grammar of Color, A.H. Munsell, 1921

All colours are contained within the Munsell color solid. Image courtesy of Munsell ColorImage courtesy of Munsell Color

All colours are contained within the Munsell color solid. Image courtesy of Munsell Color

Looking inside the sphere (above right), we see that the colours get lighter from bottom to top, and brighter or less gray, from the centre to the outer rim. A vertical cross-section through the centre of the solid would produce a 2D image such as this:

Graphics: Sue Gaviller

Graphics: Sue Gaviller

or this….

Graphics: Sue Gaviller

Graphics: Sue Gaviller

If we were to segment the 3D figure like an orange, then each segment (1/2 of a vertical slice) is a page in the Munsell Book of Colour. Each page is of a single hue with all the chroma and value permutations of that hue.

Munsell Colour books. Photo Credit: Mark Fairchild

Several editions of the Munsell Book of Color, as well as the Atlas of the Munsell Color System.
Photo Credit: Mark Fairchild

Value and Chroma levels are all numbered so any colour can be given a precise numerical description; for example, the colour circled below is a red (5R, which I’ll explain later), with a Value of 5 and Chroma of 4, hence it would be called 5R 5/4.

Munsell numerical description of muted red, 5R 5/4. Graphics: Sue Gaviller (adapted from Hue, Value and Chroma Chart, applepainter.com)

Munsell’s system allows for numerical expression of colour using exact Hue, Value and Chroma measurements. Here we see a dusty rose colour belonging to the hue of red (5R), with medium value and medium-low chroma, thus is designated 5R 5/4.
Graphics: Sue Gaviller (adapted from Hue, Value and Chroma Chart, applepainter.com)

poppy 5R 5 4

Photo: The Garden Color Book, Paul Williams.

The Munsell Color Classification System is an accepted method, worldwide, for describing colors numerically – it is used by artists, soil scientists, brewmasters, gemologists or anyone who requires a precise way of expressing colour. So what does all this mean for us? Surely I don’t intend for you to assign letters and numbers to all your plants – do I? Of course not silly gardener. That kind of precision would be of no practical use. Rather, my aim is to provide you with a framework for working with colour – the colour of the poppy above for instance – so you can approximate what hue family it belongs to (red), how it relates to other colours, and how to use it accordingly.

This planting of red, coral and pink poppies is unified by the common hue of red; the two inset photos provide further examples of colours in the same family.

This planting of red, coral and pink poppies is unified by the common hue of red; the two inset photos provide further examples of colours in the same family.

Still confused? Don’t give up just yet. Over the next few months I’ll be exploring each aspect of colour individually, focusing on the relevance to garden design.

So to help brighten the dreary days of winter, stop by once in a while and warm up with a shot of colour. Next post I’ll take a closer look at the first attribute of colour; Hue. Hope hue, uh you, can join me!

’Til then,
Sue

 

There and Back; a Hortigeek’s Tale, Part 3 ~ Going Coastal ~

Our time in wine country had been amazing – Len has professional associates in the area so we’d been treated very well. The coast was calling though, and for me this was the most anticipated part of our trip. Our next stop would be Monterey, which hubby had determined (mistakenly) we could reach via a single Interstate. Somewhere between Fremont and San Jose he asked his navigator (me) to check his directions (which he proactively wrote out every night before bed) to make sure the highway didn’t turn anywhere. Comparing his written directions to our TripTik, I realized something wasn’t right. I advised The Captain that according to our map, I-680 did not continue through to Monterey, that in fact it appeared to end abruptly just east of San Jose. It’s not so much that he didn’t believe me, as that he couldn’t disbelieve Mr. Google… until we found ourselves on the 101 heading towards San Francisco and there were no more signs for I-680. So we turned west somewhere, then eventually south until we ended up in Santa Cruz (which fortunately was less than an hour from Monterey and a very nice drive along the coastal highway). After this, it was I who consulted Google maps every night and wrote down directions for our next day’s destinations. I won’t say we didn’t get lost again after that, but at least I could read and understand my own directions. I suppose our continued use of such tools as maps must seem archaic, considering every cell phone now comes equipped with GPS.

When we arrived in Monterey and finally found our hotel (my husband did eventually break down and use his GPS), we checked in and asked the young ladies at front desk where we could find the best seafood. Our intention had been to have dinner in the famed Cannery Row district, but hotel staff asserted that the best seafood was to be had at fisherman’s wharf. The hotel was several blocks from the waterfront so we could walk along the beach to get to the wharf. It was windy and cool walking along the Monterey coast – a refreshing change from the hot still air of the valleys. I was fascinated with the unique coastal vegetation – rugged wind-sculpted Monterey cypress punctuated masses of succulent Delosperma carpeting the sandy hills beside the shore. Every so often I’d stop and turn to snap another shot.

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

I inhaled deeply the ocean’s salty aroma and revelled in the wind blowing through my hair. I heard the distant bark of sea lions which grew louder as we neared the wharf.

When we reached the dock it was too early for dinner so we wandered a bit. We found a little coffee shack and as usual, ordered a dark-roast – almost everywhere we visited we’d been unable to get a cup of dark-roast coffee. I started to think maybe it was a Canadian thing, this love of really rich dark brew, but here in Monterey we were finally able to sate our coffee cravings. Sipping the first dark brew I’d had since leaving Canada, we strolled around the wharf area and soaked up the coastal essence.

Beautiful Mexican sage bush (Salvia leucantha) in Monterey. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Beautiful Mexican sage bush (Salvia leucantha) at the Monterey wharf. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Masses of Grasses: the reddish inflorescence of this dwarf fountain grass (Pennisetum alopecuroides) looks stunning against red-brown cedar shakes, Monterey Marina. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Echium - monterey

Purple spikes of Pride of Madeira (Echium candicans) are a common site in coastal gardens and landscapes. Photo: Sue Gaviller

We followed the sound of sea lions to their basking place on a raft beside the docks. I don’t know why I became so enamoured of these particular marine mammals – perhaps it was their goofy social antics, belying the incredible grace with which they swim and dive. Or the way they lay in the sun, their soft brown fur glistening, lifting their heads periodically to peer around before laying back down again, so seemingly content. They reminded me of our sweet brown dog Pepper, whom we’d lost only a couple of months before. It was mid January when we were given the news that she was terminally ill. My one wish had been that she’d have a chance to soak up the sun in her backyard, splayed out on her side the way she loved to do – just one more time. On a warm March day after weeks of vicious cold, she was able to do this – for maybe five minutes she lay there on a patch of dry grass, breathing softly, then got up and looked me straight in the eye as if trying to tell me something. I knew then that she was ready, indeed she wanted, to be set free to chase rabbits – in that big dog-park-in-the-sky. She’d lived a good life, a long life, and while I was at peace with the decision that had to be made, I knew I’d miss her terribly. And so it was that every time I saw or heard sea lions, I’d think of her and feel awash in warmth… and just a little melancholy.

Photo: Sue Gaviller

These furry brown sea mammals are sooo adorable are they not? Photo: Sue Gaviller

The wharf offered many choices for dining, each venue featuring plated displays of mouth-watering menu items and someone posted at the door beckoning passersby to come dine there. It was difficult to choose, so we chose the one with the first available window seat. Equally difficult was trying to decide what to select from the menu – in the end I opted for a ‘Captains Plate’ which had a bit of everything. And they boasted the best clam chowder in town so I had to try some of that too… yup I rolled outta there when we were finished. But a divine meal it was, eating succulent seafood and watching the sea lions settle on the rocks as the sun set.

While in Monterey we did visit Cannery Row (had another great cuppa dark java), as well as the artist’s community of Carmel about 20 miles south of Monterey. Both are tourist destinations, and since it was a weekend, they were very busy places. We agreed that we’d like to come back one day, when we had more time – and there were fewer people.

A contemporary planting, with a nautical flair in Cannery Row. Photo: Sue Gaviller

A contemporary planting – with a nautical flair. Cannery Row, Monterey. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

A Brewer’s Blackbird flits about a casual coastal planting. Photo: Sue Gaviller

In the artist's community of Carmel by the Sea, the artist's touch abounds, as in the pretty painted vine on the house above and the artful container arrangements below. Photos: Sue Gaviller

In Carmel, the artist’s touch abounds – note the pretty painted vine on the house (above) and the artful container arrangements (below). Photos: Sue Gaviller

container planting Carmelcontainer planting Carmel 2

When we left Monterey we drove south along the Big Sur coastline – a magnificent drive along winding, cliff-hugging roads with panoramic views of the ocean. The heights and the road’s proximity to the edge might have made me queasy had the vistas not been so awe-inspiring.

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Breathtaking views along the Big Sur coastline have earned this portion of route #1 the designation of National Scenic Byway and ‘All-American Road’. Photo: Sue Gaviller

We continued our drive along the beautiful coastal highway until we reached the town of Cambria where we turned inland towards Paso Robles – there were a couple of wineries in the area we wanted to visit, so we spent the night. We’d been on the road now for two weeks and I needed to wash some clothes – fortunately our hotel had laundry facilities. When I approached the front desk to get some coin for the washer and dryer, the clerk politely obliged. Well, more than politely – in his Southern-drawl he added, “Ma’am you smell real good. Like real expensive perfume.” The young fellow was probably just being friendly, but I found his candor a bit unnerving, especially since I wasn’t wearing any perfume.

It was pretty here, though hot and very dry – the effects of California’s drought were more obvious the further south we went. I was thankful we were back inland for only a day or two before we’d be heading back to the coast. San Francisco was our next destination.

I’d never been to San Francisco and I really didn’t think I was going to be all that thrilled with the sprawling metropolis. But I agreed to go for one night just so I could say I’d been to San Fran. Thanks to my directions we had no trouble finding our hotel, and to my delight, our room was on the 20th floor, providing a spectacular view of the city and a glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge. I was beginning to like it here. It was mid afternoon so we had time to grab a Starbucks and take a leisurely stroll before heading to the wharf for dinner.

We made our way up the hills and down, marvelling at the distinctive design of the buildings. San Francisco’s architecture can only be described as… well, San Francisco. It is entirely unique. Of course there are many examples of contemporary design, but it is the peculiar mix of architectural styles in the older row homes that I found so intriguing.

san fran

Mosaic tile steps, terra-cotta containers and scrolled wrought iron create a distinct Spanish Mediterranean feel in the front entrance of this San Francisco home. Photo: Sue Gaviller

It is often referred to as Victorian, and there are certainly those elements – bay windows, steeply pitched roofs and highly decorative flourishes.

But there are also Spanish Mediterranean influences (mosaic tile, scrolled wrought iron, courtyard gardens) and some even exhibit a hint of New England Colonial – clapboard-like siding painted soft blue, ivory or beige, with white trim and paned windows.

Photo: Sue Gaviller

A pretty courtyard garden in San Francisco. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Bright fuchsia Bougainvillea and white climbing rose frame an entryway; lavender, lily of the Nile and azaleas line the pathway. Photo: Sue Gaviller

We reached fishermen’s wharf about half an hour before our dinner reservation so we had time to do a little souvenir shopping. San Francisco’s wharf isn’t near as quaint as Monterey’s – it’s big and busy and… utterly enchanting. The sound of jazz floated through the air. I assumed it was music being piped from one of the many shops or restaurants, but I discovered later it was a lone busker – with a really big amp. And of course there was the now familiar sound of sea lions – here there were dozens of rafts for the cute critters to pile onto.

 

As expected, dinner was delectable, and the taxi-ride back to the hotel quite entertaining. The driver, a big fellow with a silky smooth voice, drove for a limo-tour company and did a fine job promoting San Francisco; not that it needed promoting – I was already smitten with The City by the Bay.

We spent the following morning in Golden Gate Park – the park has a world-renowned Japanese garden which I’d always wanted to see; another reason I’d agreed to visit San Francisco. After the difficulty I had photographing Portland’s Japanese gardens I hoped to have more success here. This garden was very different – brighter and more open than the dappled shade of Portland’s moist, almost-tropical garden. I mistakenly assumed this would make it easier to shoot. It didn’t. The hazy white sky created unpleasant glare and gave everything a yellowish tone. Of course if I was a real photographer I’d have known how to compensate for this. As I looked about the gardens I noted another significant difference – whereas Portland had more coarse textured plants like Hosta and abundant large-leaved rhododendrons to break up the finer texture of pines, ferns and grasses, much of the plant material here seemed finer textured. This resulted in a somewhat busy feel to plant compositions and also contributed to my photographic woes – the fine texture created so many areas of light and dark, hence the same difficulty with harsh contrast as the dappled shade of Portland. Sigh.

Still, it was beautiful and given the Japanese philosophy of celebrating ‘place’, it’s entirely valid that a Japanese garden in coastal California would differ from that of an Oregon rainforest. Regardless, it was well worth the visit.

Photo: S Gaviller

Iris ensata adds an elegant splash of colour to rich green vegetation at the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Cloud pruning is the Japanese practice of trimming trees and shrubs into cloud-like forms. Known as ‘Niwaki’, which means ‘garden tree’, it is seen throughout the gardens. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Stone lanterns are an integral part of the Japanese garden. Here a small lantern provides a solid foil for the many fine-textured elements. Photo: Sue Gaviller

fern grotto

Circle of Peace in the Fern Grotto, National Aids Memorial Grove, Golden Gate Park.
Photo: Sue Gaviller

We had both thoroughly enjoyed San Francisco and knew we’d visit again – for much longer next time. But now it was time to head to our next and final destination where we would spend our anniversary, and the last few days of our trip before embarking on the long journey home. Originally Len had suggested we stay in a big fancy resort hotel in Sonoma to celebrate our marriage milestone. However, I thought something quieter would be more relaxing and romantic. My research led me to a beautiful spa resort at Bodega Bay on the Sonoma coast – very elegant but not the least ostentatious.

We arrived mid afternoon and checked into our ocean view suite, complete with luxurious lounge furniture, a wood burning fireplace, a hot tub and a private patio. A bottle of chilled champagne awaited us – a gift from resort staff in honour of our special day. Pouring ourselves a glass of the cool effervescent nectar we relaxed on the patio and gazed out at the ocean. Tidal channels and saltwater marsh, creating a bird sanctuary, lay between us and the ocean. We could hear birdsong all day, frogs chirping all night… and sea lions barking all day and all night. Tastefully landscaped grounds, gorgeous pool, 4-star restaurant – truly this was a little piece of paradise. I didn’t think I’d ever want to leave.

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Native grasses and yellow lupins along the shoreline. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Not sure if this is the invasive artichoke thistle, but it was certainly photogenic against the misty marshlands at Bodega Bay. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

The softly draping form and muted colour of dwarf ornamental grasses contrasts beautifully with the rich colour and stiff upright texture of New Zealand flax. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

This lovely coastal landscape includes handsome New Zealand tea tree (Leptospermum scoparium), Mexican feather grass (Nassella tenuissima) and lavender cotton (Santolina chamaecyparissus). Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

A bench in a cozy nook amid ferns and fuchsias. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

A fine pair; rich dark Aeonium and soft blue-green Echeveria. Note how the foliage rosettes echo the scalloped edge of the planter. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

A statue of Poseidon, Greek God of the Sea, watches over the pool area. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Yes indeed it was hard to leave – the Oceanside walks, strolls though the bird sanctuary, wonderful fresh food,  champagne by the fireplace, sea lions swimming and diving around the pier. But alas the time soon came for us to bid the coast goodbye. Our trip had come to an end – all that was left was the four-day drive back to Calgary, and this time we weren’t taking the scenic route.

Interestingly, the only negative experiences we had on the entire trip occurred on the drive home – a resort hotel in Reno with a casino that was so smoky we could smell it in our room. The room itself was posh on the surface, but somehow seemed really seedy – dozens of faux satin and velveteen pillows on the bed, and a black, not-terribly-clean hot tub at the foot of the bed. I wondered if the adage ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’ might apply to Reno as well.

While we were out for dinner that night we received a panicked text from one of our sons who’d been looking after our house while we were away. He’d been heading out the door to leave when he saw, at the foot of the steps, a big ol’ skunk. He wasn’t sure what to do. I knew what he was thinking – a number of years ago, his friend from across the road came home late one night, startled a skunk that was hiding in the shrubbery and got himself sprayed. I’d never really had any ‘up-close and personal’ dealings with the striped villains, though I’d smelled their stench periodically in the neighbourhood. And growing up on an acreage in Southern Ontario, the family dog would run afoul of one at least once every summer. Supposedly the only way to get rid of the smell was to bathe them in tomato juice, but I don’t honestly remember doing so with any of our dogs. I was pretty sure my twenty-something son wasn’t going to be too keen on a late night tomato juice dip – and there was no way of avoiding Pepé Le Pew in his current position. I texted him back, “Pour yourself a Scotch and sit down for a bit til he’s gone,” was the best I could come up with.

Then there was the horrible meal we had in Twin Falls the following night – the vegetables were literally rotten. And our last night on the road, in Great Falls – we got bumped from our hotel room (which we’d reserved weeks before) and dumped into what was likely the worst room in the hotel; way at the back with train tracks only a few feet from our window, and a really small bed. It made us all the more eager to get home.

Late afternoon the next day we arrived home. I was greeted with the colorful blooms of moss phlox, creeping thyme, dwarf iris… and lilacs. I hadn’t missed them after all! Walking up to the front door, suitcase in hand, I stopped and closed my eyes. For a moment, the breeze carried me back to the California coast – I breathed deeply and my nostrils filled with Syringa‘s sweet perfume. I was home. Though I still felt the call of the road, it was time to dig in and get to work. This was my busy season and I knew I’d have to hit the ground running….

‘Til next time,
Sue

There and Back; a Hortigeek’s Tale, Part 2 ~ California Here we Come ~

We left Portland on Saturday of the Memorial Day weekend. Apparently traffic is bumper-to-bumper heading to the coast on holiday weekends, but since it was Saturday, our hope was that everyone would’ve arrived at their destinations already.  We decided to get an early start just to be safe. Indeed it was quieter on the freeways than any other time during our 5-day stay – if we’d known how much time we would spend in heavy traffic travelling to and from wine country, we’d have opted to stay in one of the smaller towns down the valley. I heard one of the locals comment that even visitors from LA, which is known for crazy car congestion, complain about traffic in and around Portland.

The drive to the coast took us through wine country again, then onto the Salmon River Highway which eventually joined up with the Oregon Coast highway just North of Lincoln City. We stopped in Lincoln City for a cuppa java – one of the finest we’d have on the entire trip; whether it was the coffee itself or the fact that we sipped while gazing out onto the Pacific Ocean I’m not sure. It had been years since I’d been to the ocean, and never the Oregon coast. I felt the familiar call of the water, as I always did since leaving my home on Georgian Bay as a young woman. Why I chose to move to an inland city (a semi arid one no less) I really don’t know, but I knew this trip would have me longing again for a life on the water.

The Coastal Highway was, as expected, very scenic – Oregon’s coast is varied in its topography, the highway traversing a shoreline of rugged rocky bluffs, massive sand-dunes that were oft right next to the highway, and dense forests of shore pine, rich with Rhododendron understory. I marveled at the range of conditions in which these Ericaceous shrubs thrived here – from the rich fertile soils of the Willamette valley to lean, sandy (and likely salty) coastal soils. I remembered something I’d read recently about successfully growing Rhododendrons in less-than-ideal soil conditions – amend the soil with pine needles. Noting the masses of healthy-looking native rhodies beneath the pines, I understood why. I noted too how Mother Nature, the ultimate designer, had perfectly paired the fine feathery texture of pine foliage with the coarse leathery Rhododendron foliage.

We pulled off the highway at a particularly gorgeous ocean look-out and I took a few shots of the breathtaking view. Then I heard it – a sound I’d miss more than any other sound the ocean offered – the barking of sea lions. Adjusting our vantage point we saw them, camped out on the rocks far below, basking in the sun. From where we were they looked rather like slugs. Turned out that just up the road were the Sea Lion Caves, a very busy Oregon Coast tourist attraction.

Heceta Head and Devil's Elbow Bay, Oregon Coast. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Heceta Head and Devil’s Elbow Bay, Oregon Coast. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Sunbathing sea lions. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Several hours later we crossed the border into California. Shortly thereafter the highway veered inland and before long we found ourselves among giant redwoods. I’d of course seen the behemoth redwoods before. I’d had the dizzying experience of looking up, looking waaaayy up, into the soft-needled crown of a single specimen or small stand, but never had I seen a whole forest. These horticultural giants were truly awe-inspiring. I wondered if maybe J.R.R. Tolkien was staring into an old-growth forest such as this when he created his beloved Treebeard and the other Ents.

Somewhere around Crescent City the highway met the shoreline again. We found a sandy cove where we dipped our feet, me for the first time, in California’s Pacific waters.

Photo: Sue Gaviller

I first set foot in California waters here on Wilson Creek Beach, Del Norte Coast Redwoods State Park. Photo: Sue Gaviller

We spent the night in pretty Eureka on the North coast. Looking out over Humboldt Bay we watched a big orange sun drop beneath the misty horizon. My husband ate fresh oysters from the bay and I partook of a fine California Riesling – this would be the first of many California sunsets we’d witness in the coming weeks.

Continuing South the next day on U.S. Highway 101, fittingly called the Redwood Highway through this part of the state, our destination for that day was Napa Valley. The fastest route would have been to follow 101 all the way down, but hubby wanted me to experience the Shoreline Highway as he had when a 20-something young man. So at Leggett, it’s Northern terminus, we turned off 101 and headed West on California State Route 1. Though it’s called the Shoreline Highway, it is well inland at this point and to the East of heavily treed mountainous terrain. To get to the coast one must first navigate this terrain…………

I took a deep breath. I knew I was in for a wild ride. At first it didn’t seem so bad, but very quickly the road heads into dark foreboding territory. We were climbing, climbing, following the winding, twisting road, narrow and full of snake-turns and switchbacks. Though we were always aware of the steep slope on one side or the other, periodic breaks in the trees allowed us to see how far up we were. And just when I’d think we were through it all and we’d start descending, we were climbing again. At times it was so dark, the tree canopy so dense, and the road so narrow that my husband commented, “I feel like we’re on some kind of hobbit trek.”

“Yeah, like through Mordor,” I muttered. If you aren’t familiar with Tolkein’s mythical realm of Middle Earth, then suffice it to say that Mordor is a very bad place. I don’t know how long we actually drove through this – it was only about 26 miles, but the going was slow and it seemed like hours. We finally emerged from Mordor about a half hour north of Fort Bragg, drove up around a bend and there stretched out before us, was the spectacular California coastline in all her windswept glory. Never had I felt so elated to see the endless expanse of water.

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Gorgeous view of California coastline just north of Westport-Union Landing State Beach.
Photo: Sue Gaviller

When we reached Mendocino, where we’d planned to stop for lunch, it was so full of tourists (yes we too fit that description) that we decided to wait. I needed to get out and stretch after the white knuckle drive I’d just endured, so we opted to have coffee and wander around the historic little town. I asked the young girl in the coffee shop where their washroom was – she informed me that due to the drought, all their wells were dry and the only available washroom was a public one down the street. I went in search of the facilities, passing numerous expensive shops and boutiques – in my ignorance I still thought of Mendocino as an old hippie town. There was a line-up for the ladies’ room – standing in line gave me the opportunity to take some photos of pretty gardens nearby. Vegetation here, both natural and garden, differed from that further up the coast.

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Mounds of pink and white rock rose dress up Mendocino’s wooden water tower. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Still waiting in line, I noticed a young man with long hair and a beard (which was as long as his hair), wearing cargo shorts, work boots and walking a beautiful bloodhound. “Must be a local,” I thought to myself, still showing my naivety (as if I had any idea what a local Mendocino-ite might look like). “Nice dog,” I remarked. He looked at me warily and muttered something – everywhere we’d been people were so open and friendly and this man’s guarded response was a marked contrast. “Is that a Bloodhound?” I persisted. At that the bearded fellow opened up completely, informing me that yes she was a bloodhound, that she was in heat, the second phase of her heat to be precise, and she was really………..well to put it a tad more delicately than he did, apparently her sex drive was extremely elevated. He was looking for another bloodhound to breed her with but the only one in the area belonged to the local police chief or sheriff or whatever and blah, blah, blah……..the guy was harmless but I was now a little uncomfortable with the conversation – fortunately by this time I’d progressed to the front of the line and could politely dismiss myself.

When I exited the washroom Mr. Mendocino was nowhere to be seen. I heard the sound of acoustic guitar and soft voices – a few yards away under a shady tree, a group of young people were playing guitar and singing old Neil Young tunes. I guess it was still a hippie town – young and old. I smiled, remembering my own youth and my first acoustic guitar, singing Mamas and Papas or Joni Mitchell tunes around a campfire – I was barely a teenager…………..and such a wannabe hippie.

I found my way back to the car where hubby was waiting, wondering if I’d got lost. We took a stroll, coffee in one hand, camera in the other, and explored scenic Mendocino before heading out on the road again. The gardens here were quite unique – picket fences, roses, heathers and other old-fashioned garden elements spoke to the vintage of the area, and spiky upright plants like Echium, Phormium and tall stiff grasses spoke to its coastal locale and lent structure to the softer elements.

Photo: Sue Gaviller

The juxtaposition of New Zealand flax (Phormium) with the white picket fence and heritage building makes quite a statement. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Purple-blue spikes of Echium contrast nicely with the old-fashioned white roses in the foreground. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Variegated New Zealand flax and tall ornamental grasses frame and anchor the mixed shrub/perennial border lining this pathway. Photo: Sue Gaviller

We continued our drive south on the #1 until it met up with #128 which would take us back inland, through more redwood forest on more winding roads – but nothing like Mordor. As we left the giant Sequoia forest behind, the landscape and vegetation changed quickly – we were entering wine country, more specifically the Anderson Valley Appellation (appellation is a fancy word for wine-growing region). We stopped for lunch in a little town called Boonville (yes that’s right; a little town out in the boonies called Boonville). It was hot here, like all wine growing regions, and like all small towns associated with wine growing regions, there were lots of great places to eat. We found a casual salad and sandwich place – I had one of the most flavourful salads I’d ever tasted; arugula, mango, grilled chicken breast, fresh cilantro…………mmmmm I can still taste it.

A couple of hours later we arrived in Napa Valley where we would stay and explore for the next 5 days. I won’t bore you with a play-by-play account of our stay in California wine country – I’ll just say it was fabulous; fine wine, great food, stunning scenery, beautiful gardens………………..

Chateau Ste. Jean, a Sonoma winery, boasts beautifully landscaped grounds - Mediterranean inspired in the Italian Renaissance style, with classical statuary, parterres and hedging, archways and rustic pergolas. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Chateau Ste. Jean, a Sonoma winery, boasts beautifully landscaped grounds – Mediterranean inspired in the Italian Renaissance style, with classical statuary, parterres and hedging, archways and rustic pergolas. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Truchard vineyards are one of the oldest vineyards in the Carneros region of Napa and produce beautiful wines, my personal favourites being Chardonnay and Cabernet Reserve. After a lovely lunch in the gazebo with Tony and Anthony, we took a stroll through the vineyards. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Modern, minimalistic promenade in downtown Napa. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Simply planted , it is the shape, colour and placement of these terra-cotta pots that provides the appeal. Photo: Sue Gaviller

In Yountville, a gorgeous little town just North of Napa, beautiful gardens and landscapes abound - here lavender, roses and the ever-present columnar cypress adorn a restaurant parking lot. Photo: Sue Gaviller

In Yountville, a picturesque town just North of Napa, gorgeous gardens and landscapes abound – here lavender, roses and the ever-present columnar cypress adorn a restaurant parking lot.
Photo: Sue Gaviller

Poolside planting outside private residence at Trefethen Vineyards. Note how the form and dense texture of the columnar cypress nicely dominate the scene with the rounder forms playing a supporting role. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Roses planted alongside a stone wall create real old world appeal in this roadside planting next to a vineyard in Napa. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Rhythmic repetition of narrow upright cypress creates nice movement around this circular drive. Photo: Sue Gaviller

lambert bridge lavender 2

Layered planting – a swath of lavender repeats the horizontal line of the stone wall, which is again repeated in the barberry shrubs and the trees beyond. Lambert Bridge Winery. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Kendall Jackson, another Sonoma winery, has lush gardens to wander through. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

A stunning ‘hedge’ of Cannas near Dry Creek. I guess they don’t get hail there. Photo: Sue Gaviller

After 5 days of hot weather, daily wine tasting and other overindulgences, I was ready to move on to the next leg of our journey – back to the coast. I was so looking forward to fresh seafood, the smell of saltwater and walks along the beach. Join me next time for more garden pics from the California coast.

Til then,
Sue

 

 

There and Back – a Hortigeek’s Tale

Greetings fellow gardeners! I must apologize for ignoring this blog of late, but I was on vacation for a few weeks. Vacation you ask – at this time of year? What garden designer in her right mind goes AWOL for 3 weeks just as gardening season is revving up? Well I’ve never claimed to be in my right mind – although if truth be told I think I’m one of the sanest people I know. But I digress. My husband and I observed a milestone anniversary earlier this month – so to celebrate, the sommelier and the garden designer took a little road trip; touring wineries, visiting fabulous gardens and noshing on fine victuals.

I know y’all have been waiting for my ‘Colour in the Garden’ series to begin, and for my weekly Plant Pick Page to get up and running, and I promise I am working on those. In the meantime though, I thought I’d share some of the beauty I’ve recently witnessed.

When we left home on Victoria Day the leaves were just beginning to break bud – this was an unusually late spring, even for Calgary. As we drove South, the green aura of emerging leaves became more marked, and by the time we crossed the border and made our first pit-stop, everything was green and leafy, crab-apples and lilacs were blooming – spring had certainly come to Bonner’s Ferry, Idaho. While hubby filled the gas tank I looked longingly across the freeway where a hedge of lilacs bloomed – I wanted to run across four lanes of traffic and bury my face in the fluffy purple panicles, breathing in their intoxicating aroma. But that would be foolhardy.  Hopefully when we stopped for the night there would be lilacs to sniff.

When we reached Spokane, Washington where we’d stay for the night, there were indeed lilacs blooming, chestnut trees too, peonies, Siberian irises, and deep, rich, fuchsia-red hawthorn blooms. A walk after dinner afforded me the longed-for opportunity to stick my nose in some sweet lilac blossoms and inhale deeply – mmmm I do love lilacs. I hoped there would be more as we continued on our journey. The next morning my husband was up early and eager to get on the road. I was tired – taking this time away had meant weeks of hectic scheduling beforehand and I found myself resisting his attempts to schedule our time. It would take a few days for him to get the ants out of his pants and me to get the lead out of mine. However we did have appointments to keep – we were expected that afternoon at a winery in Walla Walla.

The drive through the Columbia Basin in Washington State revealed some of the most intriguing scenery I’d ever seen – strange, rolling, treeless hills that were at times bright green with agricultural crops, (often topped with huge white alien-looking windmills), at times rugged as rangeland, and at times awash with the muted colours of sagebrush, purple vetch-like flowers and tawny-hued grasses. The horticulturist (a.k.a. plant geek) in me wanted to stop the car every five minutes so I could identify each and every plant, and the designer in me wanted to photograph every landscape, natural or manmade – but more often than not, there was no safe place to pull over. This would be one of many times I’d have to settle my inner ‘hortigeek’, lest I experience every beautiful sight as a missed opportunity.

When we arrived in Walla Walla, spring had been left behind – it was early summer here; very warm, shorts-weather even. We ate lunch on the patio of a charming historic restaurant in the town-site, then headed out to wine country. The Walla Walla wine region is hot and dry – it felt stifling when we first stepped out of the car; Calgary was cold and rainy when we’d left only the day before, so the heat was a shock to the senses. I was thankful for the cool of the air-conditioned tasting room. For my husband this was the true beginning of our trip – the winery experience. It would be at least another day before I felt the same.

We made it to Portland that night after a picturesque drive on I-84 along the Columbia River Gorge, and an exquisite dinner in the hip little town of Hood River. Portland is at the northern tip of the Willamette Valley; a wide fertile valley that is home to some of the world’s finest Pinot Noirs, and boasts phenomenal gardening conditions – here Rhododendrons of every colour thrive, indeed they are native to this area. In fact everything seems to thrive here – driving along the I-5 from Portland to wine country the next day, I was thrilled at the roadside plantings of rhodos, roses, ivy, Spanish lavender and other sumptuous offerings (but no lilacs). Gorgeous gardens everywhere; even fast food chains had nicely landscaped grounds.  The hortigeek in me was plotzing again – but vineyards and wineries are beautiful places, as are the many small towns where they oft reside, so there was lots to photograph.

Rhododendrons grow everywhere in Oregon, much like Syringa and Potentilla grow in our climate. Here a coral-red rhodo grows alongside spreading juniper in a parking lot planting. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Rhododendrons grow everywhere in Oregon, much like Syringa and Potentilla grow in our climate. Here a coral-red rhodo grows alongside spreading juniper next to a parking lot in Newberg, Oregon.
Photo: Sue Gaviller

Spanish lavender too is a common sight throughout the area. Here it is planted with other herbs in a back alley garden in McMinnville, Oregon. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Roses were in full bloom in Oregon when we were there the end of May. These three perfect white roses just begged to be photographed. Photo: Sue Gaviller

A lovely Mediterranean-inspired garden outside a restaurant where we had lunch in Dundee, Oregon. Note how the various plant forms play off each other. Photo: Sue Gaviller

A visit to Portland’s famed Japanese garden was the moment I finally relaxed – entering through the gates I felt the tensions and busy-ness of the previous weeks melt away and I was overcome with emotion. This is the aim of the Japanese Garden – to provide a haven from worldly cares. However as soon as I brought my camera out, I wasn’t so relaxed anymore – dappled shade is soothing and tranquil to be in, but not so easy to photograph in. My husband, sensing my growing frustration, related his own experience with photography as a young arts student – wherever he went he was always looking for subject material, hoping that today would be the day he took the photo; the photo of a lifetime, until one day he realized that his attempts to capture with perfect artistry that which he saw, actually undermined his ability to experience and enjoy what he saw. He was right of course – here we were in this amazing place of calm and I was anything but calm. So I put my camera away and we walked in the cool dappled shade, we listened to sweet birdsong and dancing water and we sat beside the koi pond and marveled at the serenity of it all. Yes this was the beginning of my vacation………..

Portland Japanese Garden - water basin

A peaceful stone water basin sits just inside the gates. Photo: Sue Gaviller.

Portland Japanese Garden bridge

A bridge crosses a tranquil stream in the ‘Strolling Pond Garden’. Photo: Sue Gaviller

The sound of running water, from numerous streams and waterfalls, is everywhere in the garden. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Portland Japanese Garden - ferns and rhodos

Hot pink Rhododendron pairs beautifully with bright green ferns. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Mount Ste. Helens and downtown Portland are visible through an opening in the trees – an example of the Japanese principle of ‘Borrowed Scenery’. Photo: Sue Gaviller

We visited several wineries over the course of the next few days while staying in the Portland area, but the one that most bears mention is WillaKenzie Estate Winery – I could of course rave about their fabulous Pinot’s (everybody does), or I could talk about their delightful winemaker’s assistant Gabby, a young French-Canadian woman who gave us an intimate look behind the scenes, but what I really want to rave about is the breathtaking scenery; beautifully landscaped grounds, spectacular views……….

Trees frame the view of a vineyard at WillaKenzie Estate. Photo: Sue Gaviller

willakenzie white rhodos 2

A low hedge of crisp white rhodos lines the steps at the entrance to the winery. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Flowering dogwood trees have large showy flowers which look stunning against the dark green coarse-textured leaves. This young specimen graced an estate pathway. Photo: Sue Gaviller

willakenzie sensory garden

The Sensory Garden – lavender, thyme, oregano, fruit trees, strawberry vines, mint, iris and all manner of things to delight the senses are grown in the Sensory Garden overlooking the vineyards. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Irises in the Sensory Garden. Photo: Sue Gaviller

The lovely Gabby offers us a barrel tasting of a 2013 Aliette Pinot Noir. Photo: Sue Gaviller

The lovely Gabby offers us a barrel tasting of 2012 Aliette Pinot Noir. Photo: Sue Gaviller

The patio outside WillaKenzie’s tasting room boasts a panoramic view of rolling hills, valleys and vineyards. Photo: Sue Gaviller

willakenzie cheese plate 2

Fresh baguette, fine cheeses, nuts, dried cherries and apricots were the perfect complement to a glass of wine on the patio. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Sitting at a shady table on the patio, sipping an elegant 2011 Aliette Pinot Noir and nibbling on the tasty treats that were kindly offered us, I couldn’t imagine a place more beautiful. A red tailed hawk soared out over the valley. I reached for my camera……then stopped – this moment was too perfect to waste fussing with camera settings for the umpteenth time. As if reading my thoughts the hawk swooped down into the valley and out of sight. I took a sip of wine, closed my eyes and felt the warmth of the gorgeous red nectar and the light caress of cool breezes. Could it get any better than this? I would soon find out as we continued on the next leg of our journey………..

Stay tuned for, ‘California Here We Come’.

Til then,
Sue

 

 

 

 

 

Colour – the Absence of White

My back yard was still covered in snow as of yesterday – or to be more accurate, my back yard was covered in snow again as of yesterday. Spring had teased us with some warm-ish weather for a week or so;  enough that the snow had melted, leaving in its wake swaths of pallid yellow-brown turf and dull grey-brown soil – colour so de-saturated it could hardly be called colour at all. But at least it wasn’t white. Then a weekend of snow and below-freezing temperatures, and the ground was again blanketed in white – I might have called it pretty had we not already had 6 months of it.

Today the spring weather has returned and the snow has all but receded, this time exposing green. Green – the colour of awakening life. It warms us to the core – indeed it’s all the colour we need right now. It signals the beginning of another long-awaited gardening season.

But as the season progresses, gardeners are no longer as enamoured of plain old green; we want bigger colour, brighter colour, and zealously apply it to our gardens without understanding its impact – for good or for bad. What is there to understand you ask? Why is colour any different for gardeners than anybody else? Well, it’s not really – it’s just that we face some unique challenges when employing it.

Working with colour is different for a gardener than for example, a painter.  A painter works with paints and pigments, mixing them in various proportions until the desired colour is attained. A gardener on the other hand, has only what Mother Nature (or the hybridizer) offers. While there are plenty of colours to choose from, it can be a challenge to find a plant in the exact colour we want, have it grow and thrive in the exact location we want and have it bloom at the exact time we want.  And even a novice gardener quickly learns that a flower described as ‘blue’ is rarely blue, but more purple-blue or mauve-pink, and supposedly purple foliage isn’t really purple but rather a dark wine colour.

As well, we can’t control the existing colours in the larger landscape; the colour of our neighbour’s house for example. What if it’s red, or bright blue or yellow? How does one work with that as a backdrop for your garden?

And what about the impact of light? Outside under full sun, light shines at an intensity of 100,000 lux. Inside, directly in front of a sunny window, light intensity is about half that – 50,000 lux, and once you are a few feet further into the interior of a building, light intensity diminishes to as little as 1000 lux. Due to the sheer intensity of it, light has a greater potential to impact colour outdoors than it does indoors.

A garden isn’t a static reality either; it is a dynamic interplay of living, growing things – a vision in flux. So a garden that looks fresh and full of promise in the spring might be an overgrown mess come midsummer. Individual plants also change over the course of a season, or even a day or two – for example the lilac flower shown below is made up of many little florets, each with their own life span; the buds and newly opened florets are rich violet-red, whereas older florets are somewhat faded and will eventually turn brown. As more florets age and fade, the colour of the whole panicle is affected and eventually the appearance of the whole shrub.

Syringa 'Ludwig Spaeth'

So, now that we recognize some of the unique challenges gardeners face when working with colour, let’s see if we can’t find a way of understanding it so we can respond to those challenges.

Over the spring and summer months I’ll be discussing colour theory specifically as it relates to garden design – hope you can join me.

Until next time,
Sue

Soon……..but not quite yet.

Yesterday morning my sister-in-law, who lives in a part of the country 3 full climate zones warmer than here, sent me this photo – I suspect it was one of those email jokes making the rounds.

I'm so excited I wet my plants

I chuckled, and got a little excited myself. I bet you did too. Then I looked out the window. Tiny snowflakes were falling from dreary grey skies. If like me, you garden under the Chinook arch…………..well, keep your pants on fellow gardeners; it’s too early to get excited or start panting, I mean planting.

I know the ground feels soft and spongy, but it’s only surface thaw; a foot or so down it’s likely still frozen – and even when the ground is completely defrosted, it won’t be ready yet. Working the ground when it’s soggy will only result in damaged soil structure.

I know we’ve had our hearts warmed by robin song and our skin warmed by double-digit daytime temperatures. Indeed local garden centres are beginning to stock plant material. So go. Go do some plant shopping if you must, but don’t plant anything yet; you don’t want to get caught with your plants down when temperatures plummet again (and they will, at least once more). Of course there are some smarty-plants that would manage just fine under these circumstances, but the blast of cold just when a plant is trying to establish itself will temporarily arrest the process – you might as well just wait until the soil has warmed up a bit and there’s less likelihood of further frosty weather.

I know you are looking expectantly around your gardens, giddy at the thought of green sprouts poking through, but you must resist the urge to tromp around on thawing soil – it will cause more compaction of our already heavy clay soil. Try to do only what’s necessary; cut down the grasses you’ve left up for winter appeal as soon as you see new growth, remove any rotting rhizomes in your iris clumps and remove dead foliage that you weren’t able to get to before the snow came. The rest can wait – for just a bit longer.

So keep your rakes, shovels, trowels and other planty-removers in the garden shed for now – gardening season is almost here.

But not quite yet.

Sue

 

 

 

How Design Savvy Are You? The Answers.

Good morning class. This morning we’ll be taking up last month’s quiz (if you haven’t completed the quiz yet, stop reading, go do it and come back later).

So how did y’all do? Not as good as you thought you would, or should? Wondering where you went wrong? Well let’s have a look…

QUESTION 1. The procedural steps for effectively designing a residential landscape are:

a) First determine what kind of outdoor spaces you require (e.g. patio, planting beds, pathways etc.). Then choose the best place to locate each of them. Next, give form and shape to these spaces. Finally add plant material where applicable.

If you’ve been to one of my design lectures or read the design series on this blog, or even January’s review, you should have it well implanted in your brain by now, that landscaping is primarily about manipulating space, not arranging plants – indeed the definition my own design instructor/mentor drilled into my head was this: “Landscaping means making the best use of the available space in the most practical and pleasing way.”  Designing the plantings comes much later – it is the final part of the process.

QUESTION 2. The Designer’s mantra is:

d) Form follows function.

“Form follows function” of course means that the functionality of a space must come first, before its form is considered, but it also means that the shape or form of a landscape space is often dictated, at least to some degree, by its function. I had an ‘aha’ experience regarding this many years ago when trying to redesign my front walkway – our front yard is quite wide and the walkway starts well over to one side then curves up to the front door. My biggest objection is that the walkway bifurcates the yard in lop-sided fashion – it’s too far to one side, which creates imbalance. I knew that moving it a little towards the centre, to the 2/3’s mark, would create more pleasing proportions, but I was having trouble giving the walkway pleasing form. Also constraining my design options was a big ‘ol island bed that spanned a good part of the larger side of the yard.

One morning while there was still snow on the ground I noticed a set of human footprints going up the front walkway, up the steps, back down, then angling across the lawn on the other side of the walk, and right through the aforementioned island bed. That’s rude, I thought. It’s one thing to traverse someone’s lawn, but who walks right through what is clearly a garden?  Maybe it was the newspaper delivery person? The mailperson? Or maybe someone delivering flyers? Fortunately a few days later I was able to catch the culprit during commission of the crime. It was our letter carrier and as she tromped through the garden, I stuck my head out the door and made my request as nicely as possible (considering I was annoyed I had to say anything at all). “Can I ask you to please not walk through there,” I requested. She looked at me puzzled. “Well where would you like me to walk?” she replied, slightly put-off. “Uh, on the sidewalk?” I responded incredulously.  For a few days after that I didn’t see any more footprints through there, but it wasn’t long before I noticed them again.  Grrrrrr.

Of course using the sidewalk when approaching the house was the most obvious route, but given the width of the lot and the positioning of the sidewalk, it was indeed quicker to walk back down across the lawn when going the other way – so I understood the temptation to choose this route.  I knew however, that once a path was worn everybody would use it – I really didn’t want that much foot traffic on the lawn, and none at all through the bed. I also knew I didn’t want to be that crazy lady who hollered at everyone who stepped on her lawn, or worse, put up a tacky ‘Keep off the Grass’ sign. This required a design solution. Hmmm. Maybe I could plant a line of thorny shrubs along the walkway to keep people on it. No, that would look goofy. How about putting a fence around the front yard so the only way on or off it was via the sidewalk? No, I didn’t want to fence in the front yard. So I thought to myself, if that’s the direction people want to walk, don’t fight it – work with it.  Aha – I had the answer to my design conundrum! I could make the walkway more functional by making it two-directional. Of course I’d also have to get rid of the island bed, which I was happy to do since it disrupted landscape unity. Before I knew it, I had completely redesigned my front yard (well on paper at least – the planting beds have all been redone, but budget constraints have prevented us from re-doing the walkway). So you see, what started with addressing a functional issue became a wholesale re-forming of my front yard landscape – indeed form follows function.

Improving the function of the sidewalk, also improved its form and afforded me the opportunity to redesign the whole front yard.

Improving the function of the sidewalk, also improved its form and afforded me the opportunity to redesign the whole front yard.

QUESTION 3. When experimenting with design lines, remember to:

c) Ensure all design lines intersect at an angle of 90 degrees or more.

Option a) is incorrect because complexity is the antithesis of good garden design – simplicity is the goal and is best attained using long purposeful design lines rather than short tentative lines. Option b) is incorrect because the aim is to maintain continuity of design theme rather than vary it. This doesn’t mean that a curvilinear design can’t benefit from the odd straight line, or a rectilinear design can’t include a single arc or circle for dominance, it just means don’t deviate from your chosen design theme more than once or twice – again, the key is simplicity. Option c) is correct; if design lines intersect at less than 90 degrees, acute angles are formed – and y’all know how much I dislike acute angles. Functionally these spaces are unusable and difficult to maintain (try fitting a lawn mower into one of those little pointy spaces).  Visually they are awkward. They’re the first feature I notice in a design – do we really want an awkward unusable space to be what first draws the eye? No of course not. And yet, they are blatantly applied by many who should know better – even when entirely avoidable. Alright, alright, I’m done my little tirade – I know acute angles can’t always be avoided, but at least try okay?

acute angles edit

Left: Acute angles are formed when design lines meet at less than 90 degrees. Right: Acute angles are avoided because design lines intersect at 90 degree angles. This results in spaces that are more functional and usable, as well as more attractive.

QUESTION 4. Unity through interconnection can be achieved by:

d) All of the above.

underplanting

Arctostaphylos uva-ursi underplants an entire bed in this client’s garden. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Making sure all landscape spaces are connected generates continuity and good flow from one space to another, which in turn creates unity.

Sorry fellow gardeners – an interconnected, unified landscape necessarily means no island beds. Capiche?

As well, underplanting an entire area with a single type of groundcover connects the plants within a planting composition, hence further unifying it.

QUESTION 5. When grouping plant material it is important to:

d) None of the above.

The most obvious answer here seems to be ‘Always use odd numbers’, but the word ‘always’ makes the statement incorrect. There are times when arranging plants in odd-numbered groupings isn’t necessary, for example when plants are massed in groups of more than 7 or 8, the eye can no longer differentiate between even and odd numbers so it ceases to be of any significance.

This corner planting of daylilies is large enough that the eye cannot discern whether it consists of odd or even numbers. Photo: Sue Gaviller

This corner planting of daylilies is large enough that the eye cannot discern whether it consists of odd or even numbers. Photo: Sue Gaviller

QUESTION 6. In order for a landscape element to be dominant, it must be larger.

b) False

An element can be dominant because it is larger, but it can also express dominance in its unique form, its coarse texture and/or its bright colour – the key is it must differ significantly from surrounding elements. A hard (non-living) feature will also stand out as a focal point.

QUESTION 7. Symmetrical designs are more balanced than asymmetrical designs.

b) False

Symmetry is by definition balanced, but not necessarily more balanced. An asymmetrical design can be just as balanced if the weight is perceived to be equally distributed; for example, a tree planted on one side of the landscape can be balanced by two or three large shrubs on the other side – the visual weight of the smaller elements together approximates that of the larger element. Think of it this way: little Johnny and his grandpa are at the park trying to play on the teeter-totter, but to no avail – invariably Grandpa ends up sitting on the ground while Johnny is perched up high on the other end wailing “Let me down.” Along comes Johnny’s big brother Jimmy and hops up on the seat with his brother. Their combined weight is close enough to Grandpa’s that the teeter-totter can now move up and down in its intended fashion – balance.

QUESTION 8.  Reducing the number of different plants in your garden composition will create unity.

a) True

Reducing or limiting the number of different plants in your garden will allow for repetition, thereby creating unity (this of course means you can’t have one of everything). Many years ago, in one small area of my garden, I had all this going on……………..

variety-resample

Photos: Sue Gaviller

It was indeed one of everything and it was visual chaos, so… bit by bit I simplified. I removed this and that until I had reduced enough that I was able to repeat some plant material. The result was a much more unified composition….

Simplicity-resample

Photos: Sue Gaviller

QUESTION 9.   Planting a weeping standard on either side of an entrance creates a nice frame, inviting the viewer through.

b) False

No, no, no, weeping standards don’t make good frames – these are unique features that invite the eye to move upwards along the standard then down along the weeping branches. Placed on either side of a view or entrance the two unique forms will cause the eye to move up and down, and back and forth between them rather than viewing through them. So what does make a good frame? Plants with strong upright growth habit make the best frames – columnar forms, pyramids or vases (especially narrow ones) and even some grafted standards (those whose ‘standards’ are taller in relation to the grafted portion).

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Weeping Caragana has lovely bronze bark that looks very attractive against the dark brown house, but they don’t work well to frame the entrance. Photo: Sue Gaviller

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Upright forms like juniper or cedar create a more effective frame. Photo: Sue Gaviller

QUESTION 10.   Coarse textured plants and fine textured plants should be present in equal numbers to balance a garden composition.

b) False

fine, medium and coarse texture

Photo: Sue Gaviller

Coarse texture is dominant to fine texture, which means less of it is required to achieve balance. Generally speaking, fine texture should outweigh coarse texture by at least 3 to 1 – this is a loose guideline depending on how large or small a plant’s leaves are relative to surrounding plants. A good rule of thumb is: the larger a plant’s component parts the fewer are needed to balance finer texture.

For example, in the photo to the right, rhododendron leaves appear coarse when seen next to the diminutive leaves of kinnickinnick, but much less so compared to the larger leaves of the hosta. Therefore I have planted only one hosta, three rhododendrons and a whole mass of kinnickinnick.

QUESTION  11.   What is the song I allude to in The Form of Things to Come – Part 2

While writing about the bottom heavy presentation of pyramidal forms I found myself singing a Queen song – now can you guess? That’s right,  ‘Fat Bottom Girls’ (check out this youtube video of some ‘Disney babes’ strut to Freddie’s vocals – too funny).

Well that’s all for today boys and girls – class dismissed!

Til next time,
Sue

Let’s Talk About the 3 R’s

We all know the importance of the 3 r’s – readin’, ‘ritin’ and ‘rithmetic. No not those 3 r’s. Reduce, re-use, and recycle? No not those either. I’m referring to the 3r’s of romance – Rubies, Roses and Red Wine. Ah yes, those 3 r’s. Today is Valentine’s Day, so let’s talk about………..

Rubies

They say diamonds are a girl’s best friend, but I don’t think I agree. Men get to have dog as best friend – I’d rather have a dog than diamonds. I guess I’m just not that into diamonds, or any jewelry for that matter. I’ve never been the kind of gal who surreptitiously points out to my husband around anniversaries, Christmas, Valentine’s Day etc., the beautiful expensive pieces showcased in jewelry store windows, in the hope that one might find its way into a box with my name on it. Indeed the jewelry he’s given me over the years, has had sentiment as big as (or bigger than) the price tag. So it is with rubies – they have sentimental value for me much more than monetary value. There is of course, a story here…………..

The first year we were dating, my husband gave me a single red rose for Valentine’s Day, along with a charming card with some amorous message in it (which I really can’t remember). I do however remember how he signed it; Happy Valentine’s Day, Love Len………and in brackets he wrote, “Sorry I couldn’t find any rubies.” The reference to the sparkling red gemstones was from a story we’d read – about a couple who out of necessity, held their nuptials out on the range, exchanging their impromptu but heartfelt vows on horseback. The gentleman (okay he was more of a rogue) had no ring to give his new bride, so he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small handful of rubies. He gently placed them in his wife’s hand, and with a twinkle in his eye said, “Every woman should get rubies on her wedding day.”

Oh be still my beating heart. The mention of rubies (clearly a symbol of commitment) in this first Valentine’s card seemed strangely farsighted given the early stage of our courtship. It was also weirdly incongruous coming from a man who fervently fought tradition. Seems he’d been pierced by cupid’s arrow, though he didn’t know it at the time – he didn’t stand a chance.

And so it was that several years later, on another February 14th (after a year or so of cohabiting, during which time he discovered that everything he feared about marriage and commitment had already come to pass………..and he’d survived), I came home to find on the kitchen table: a dozen red roses, a card, and a bottle of Sebastiani Cabernet (our wine savvy in those years, was as limited as our budget). The message inside the card was sweet and romantic, but again the only detail I remember was how it was signed; Happy Valentine’s Day, Love Len………and in brackets, “This time it comes with the promise of rubies.” The rest as they say is history, but my wedding band is indeed adorned with several rubies.

Roses

“I’d rather have roses on my table than diamonds ’round my neck.” ~ Emma Goldman ~

For me, as a horticulturist and garden designer, a bouquet of roses (or a bouquet of anything) is akin to the gift of jewelry. Nothing warms my heart more than a big bunch of flowers, whether from a friend, a dinner guest, my sons, or in particular, my husband. While he’s often given me roses for Valentine’s Day, he’s also been known to defy convention (surprise, surprise) and purposefully buy a very different type of arrangement; “Everyone gets roses for Valentine’s Day,” he’ll say. “You deserve something special.” Nice sentiment. But honestly, either works for me – I love the thoughtful break from tradition, but I can’t deny I also love the traditional dozen red roses; their softly scented, velvety petals just ooze romance. Unfortunately though, they don’t always have a lot of staying power – the trick is to make a good selection when buying them. Here’s a great list of what to look for: How to Buy Roses.

Roses have different meanings for different people – for my sister and her husband, exchanging a single long stem red rose was an essential part of their wedding ceremony. It was a gesture the groom requested as a way of honouring his mom who had passed away many years earlier. In the years since her death, a pretty red rose-bush which grew alongside the driveway of his childhood home, and had bloomed profusely under his mother’s care, had long since stopped blooming. But in the months leading up to their wedding, it burst into bloom – to them it was a sure sign that their upcoming marriage had his mother’s soundest blessing.

Red Wine

In the early years, red wine was our beverage of choice. I don’t mean it was the only liquid we drank – we didn’t drink it in the morning instead of coffee, or fill water bottles with it to go on a hike or to the gym – I just mean if we were going to indulge in a ‘fermented beverage’, we were likely to choose an Old World red; maybe a Burgundy or a Bordeaux blend.

Red wine has played a part in many of our celebrations over the years – anniversaries, birthdays, just-because-days, but the one that comes to mind is an early spring hike along the river below Elbow falls, many years ago. Len carried a knapsack in those days, the contents of which always intrigued me – his wallet, cigarettes, herbal tea, other ‘herbals’, a paperback or two (usually sci-fi), sometimes a magazine (Esquire or Omni), snack food of some kind, a Swiss army knife, a windbreaker, and anything else he thought he might need on a given day. This day he added: a loaf of still-warm French bread, a brick of cheese, and a bottle of red wine.

We walked along the river a ways and found a warm sunny rock to picnic on. We tore pieces of fresh bread off the loaf, cut cheese with the knife he carried in his pack, and drank wine out of plastic cups. It was the perfect picnic, and a fine way to enjoy a bottle of red – soaking up the warm spring sun, until concern we might get caught in rush hour traffic urged us to head back into the city.

The Three B’s

It would be unfair and insensitive if I didn’t take a moment to acknowledge the 3 B’s: Broken-hearted, Between-loves and By-choice Single – if one of these describes your current situation, you might decide to boycott Valentine’s Day altogether. I don’t blame you – we’ve all been there, or will be, at some point in our lives. I know someone who was dumped on Valentine’s Day – by text, after paying for dinner at an expensive restaurant. Honey you can definitely pass on Valentine’s Day for a while.

If truth be told I wasn’t very lucky in love before I met my husband – of course in retrospect I realize that some of it had more to do with bad choices than bad luck. But oddly enough I never disliked Valentine’s Day; maybe the memories from my childhood gave it meaning beyond the syrupy romance that greeting card companies, diamond merchants and chocolatiers thrust upon us.

I remember in grade school we’d make pretty Valentine crafts – heart-shape cards made with red and pink construction paper, lacy white doilies, and glitter paint. And on Valentine’s afternoon, we’d have a class party – with snacks and games and the ritual exchange of simple valentine’s cards where no one got left out. There were treats that our Mom’s had baked – cupcakes with pink icing and candy hearts or heart-shaped cookies with red sprinkles. And each child would go home with a little gift bag filled with red cinnamon hearts, red and white jelly beans and ju-jube hearts, and red foil-wrapped chocolate hearts. To this day I still make up bags-full-of-goodies for my two grown sons.

It’s more than that though. Valentine’s Day is about the promise of something – if not rubies, then perhaps future romantic possibilities, and if not that then most surely, spring. Yes my friends, spring – it’s around this time every year that the fog of winter hibernation begins to lift; the days are noticeably longer, the sun perceptibly warmer, and spring becomes more than a distant probability. It has become a promise. The promise of spring, to a child, or a gardener, a grieving grown-up, or a happy lover, is something to celebrate – indeed it feels very much like hope.

So to everyone – married or single, happy or sad, young, old and everything in between, breathe deeply the air of promise…….and have a very Happy Valentine’s Day.

Sue

How Design Savvy Are You?

 

Good morning class. Today I have surprise for you – a quiz! That’s right, a quiz.

No wait, don’t go – it’ll be fun! Don’t you want to test your design savvy? No one but you will ever know if you had to cheat by going back through previous posts, or checking out last month’s review (that should’ve been a clue that a quiz was coming). And no one but you will ever know how well you did or didn’t do, or how many times you had to rewrite to say you got a perfect score. So be a sport, take this little quiz. You know you wanna.

Say it Again Sue

Happy New Year fellow gardeners! It’s a week or two into 2014 and I’d like to bid a fond farewell to 2013. Let me rephrase that. I’m so glad to see the arse-end of the year 2013!

It wasn’t my finest year.

Like many of you, I made some New Year’s Resolutions. Most are pretty straightforward; return to healthier eating, lose some weight, get more exercise, spend less time in front of my computer screen, blah, blah, blah. Challenging as it may be to abide by such resolutions, if I can commit to them for even a few weeks, perhaps these lifestyle changes will become re-established in my daily repertoire of healthy behaviours – they say it takes only 21 days to form a habit.

However, not all of my avowed changes are quite so straightforward; be more organized, procrastinate less; qualities that just aren’t part of my make-up – supposedly one can learn though. I’ve also decided that from now on I will try to think before speaking. Yikes! How does one possibly remember to catch oneself each time the mouth opens to speak; to always first consider: is what I’m about to say necessary, or useful? Will I come on too strong, or too loud, is this a “think” or a “say”, will I be oversharing or heaven forbid, repeating myself?

I was advised once, by a well-meaning person of course, that I have an annoying habit of repeating myself. Not entirely untrue I guess. In my defense though, experience has taught me that some people need to hear things several times before they get it. And as a design instructor and lecturer I also know that some things merit repeating – whether within the same address or at a later date as a review. It’s what good teachers do. For example, since this blog’s inception I have thrown oodles of design advice at you – do you remember all of it? Not likely. Do you remember exactly where to find whatever information you might want to revisit? Probably not. Repeating myself would be helpful here no? Perhaps a review to help you navigate both the design process and this site – all my design advice in a tidy little bundle with links to the applicable posts where you’ll find the information you seek.

You’re welcome! It’s what good teachers do.

Design Process and Principles – A Review

The Process

The first thing I want to reiterate, and this can’t be overstated, is that design is primarily about organizing and arranging space, not plants. The same way a house must first be properly designed and built before it can be furnished, so the outline of a garden or landscape must first be planned before plants are considered. The functionality of any given space should be the designer’s chief concern, followed by its form – hence the designer’s mantra “form follows function”. The design process then, looks like this (click on the red text to go to corresponding post):

Phase 1 – FUNCTIONAL DRAWINGS: one must first determine what one want or needs; for example, garden beds, a deck or patio, walkway, lawn, fireplace etc., and then decide where each will be situated. Various possible locations for each element can be explored before deciding on the best placement for your particular needs.

Phase 2 – CONCEPT DRAWINGS: once you know what you want and where you want it, you can give form to your garden beds, patio, walkway and other garden elements. Remember your design concept can consist of:

As you play with various design lines, there are some Key Things to Remember:

  • Maintain Continuity
  • Avoid acute angles
  • Use design lines to guide planting

Phase 3 – Planting Plan: when your landscape or garden outline has been conceptualized, plants can then be considered. However, before one can effectively arrange plant material, some governing principles must first be understood – we’ll return to the Planting Plan later.

The Guiding Principles

Although designing a garden or landscape requires both creativity and knowledge, anybody can learn how to improve their own gardens with the help of a few guidelines or Design Principles. These principles, as applied to landscape design are:

  1. UNITY – a sense of oneness and harmony in the garden, achieved through:
    • Repetition – repeating elements throughout a composition.
    • Dominance – one element or group of elements is given emphasis
    • Unity of Three – arranging elements in groups of three (or odd numbers)
    • Interconnection – physically connecting all landscape spaces
  2. BALANCE – perceived equilibrium in a garden or landscape composition. Balance can be Symmetrical or Asymmetrical.
  3. MOVEMENT – visual motion throughout a composition
  4. SCALE – size of landscape elements in relation to their surroundings
  5. PROPORTION – size of landscape elements in relation to each other

The Planting Plan Revisited

With a rudimentary understanding of design principles you’ll now be in a better position to choose and arrange plant material, but there are still procedural steps to follow:

  1. FUNCTION – determine if there are functional roles like shade or privacy that you need plants to play.
  2. AESTHETICS – plants provide visual appeal from their physical traits:
  • Colour
    • Gardeners looove colour don’t we? I have touched only lightly on the effective use of colour in the garden. Colour theory is a big topic and I’m still trying to decide how I want to approach it – how much information will be enough, without being too much (see I’m already adhering to one of my resolutions; I’m thinking before speaking, er writing).

Well my friends that wraps up my review – a little New Year’s gift for you. Keep this post handy for future reference – design advice is just a click away.

You’re welcome! It’s what good teachers do.

Yours,
Sue