Northwest Flower and Garden Show

My sister-in-law and I attended this annual celebration of all things gardenlicious on Friday. It seemed to both of us that there weren't near enough gardens. Lots of shops, though. Lots and lots. Which seems a waste to me since the only one I was interested in was Fremont Gardens, where I bought many packets of sweet peas.

The theme of this year's show was "outdoor rooms" and there were some stunning displays with pergolas, beautifully dressed tables and gorgeous outdoor lighting. It confirmed my view that we need to remove our back deck and replace it with a terrace. The deck cuts off the back garden and a terrace would allow for easier flow from one end to the other, as well as be infinately more attractive. I picture replacing our sliding glass doors with French doors that would open onto wide, poured concrete steps. These would be decorated with some containers and lots of pillows so that guests could actually use them as seating. Yes, a definate project.

I took the little garden notebook Rachael had given me and made a few plant notes. I fell in love with a particular type of Japanese maple, Acer Palmatum "Sago Kaku", which has rich burgandy colored bark. It would look spectacular in the winter, when everything around it is died back and brown. Similarly, there was a red ring dogwood which also had red bark and Nandina D. "Moon Bay", an orangy-red shrub in the bamboo family.

There was also a garden which used wide tubes of bamboo as faux fencing. There were clusters of the tubes, in varying heights, which were scattered along a path and at corners, hinting at definition without obscuring vistas. Each column of bamboo was planted with some sort of mossy thing in the top to soften the look. Very groovy idea and one I fully expect to employ in my front garden, assuming I can get my hands on some bamboo without sacrificing the college fund.

The other inspiring bit was being reminded that gardens need not be planted in a linear manner. Groupings of plants flowed into others. Moss, creeping thyme and camomile spilled out from between pavers and over edges. There was a garden that had a long swirl of primroses curving through a bit of grass. I expect that this year's sod turning will be dedicated to bowing out some of my very rigid rectangular beds, especially in the front garden.

The weather this weekend has been spectacularly spring-like. Not that I did anything about it. But I fancy that maybe, just maybe, if the weather holds, I will do some serious weed-clearing tomorrow.

Why I'm Doing This

The Spouse expressed concern last night that I was spreading myself too thin starting a second blog. Here's the way I look at it:

My first blog, which you can link to any time you like, is very important to me. It gets my creative juices flowing. It's given me a little community of imaginary friends who I read and who read me. It provides fodder for other writing projects. It gives me a chance to search Google Images. It's fun. I love my little blog and am committed to it.

But I need a proper garden journal, too. Every season I get a new notebook to write important garden things, like seed lists. I draw garden plans which are out of scale, off kilter and bear no relationship to actual reality but provide a guide anyway. Every once in a very short while I will sketch something I see in my garden. Once I drew a cornichon that almost actually looked like a cornichon. But then, eventually, I leave the journal outside, the rains come and the book becomes soggy and useless. Which is sorta was to begin with. So one reason I started this blog is because it will take up less space than a waterlogged notebook.

The other reason, the more compelling one, is that I actually do a lot of thinking when I'm in the garden. It is a good place for metaphor and introspection. But my bloggy blog is just that, bloggy. While the ocassional rumination from the garden would not be out of place there, I doubt most of my readership would give a flying figlet about my hours in the jardin. This blog is a place to put all that without forcing it on anyone. If they want to come over here and read it they can but I really doubt they'd be interested.

In The Beginning

When we first moved into our house there were no gardens. The place had been a rental for 18 years so it had low maintenance landscaping. Lots of yard, rhodies and evergreen shrubs. The only elements that were remarkable were a hydrangea that produces vivid blue flowers and a spectacular Japanese maple. The northwest corner of the lot was planted rather well with junipers and azaelas and those have remained. It creates a little "room" in front of the maple that is a very pleasant place to sit of a summer evening with a glass of wine and The Spouse. But essentially it was a blank canvas.

This suited me fine. I was ready to be landed gentry. I would watch "Martha Stewart" and find myself teary at the end of each episode. It wasn't that I wanted an estate in Connecticut. I just wanted my own little plot to work. Window boxes weren't cutting it anymore.

Some of the bones of the existing landscape worked for me but a great many shrubs and rhodies were pulled out that first spring. The Spouse was excited to have lots of lawn to mow, but I had secret designs on turning most of it into garden. (As the years have come on this is easier and easier to finesse. The charm of mowing has subsided).

The first plants to go in were roses. We received 3 as housewarming gifts: "Gertrude Jeykll" from my folks, "Just Joey" from Tim and Mike and "Heritage" from our old apartment neighbors (we called them "The Mertz's"). These were all installed in the north end of the front garden and the first bit of lawn disappeared.

John and Sandra gave us a mountain ash tree. The mountain ash, or rowan, is my favorite of all trees. They gave us a 3 year old, as that was the age of The Child at the time. They wanted the two of them to "grow up" together. This was ceremoniously planted on May Day, at the south end of the front garden. Over time a bed has been installed at it's base, mostly full of salvia and daisies.

The first year I urgently dug up a small bit of lawn outside of the kitchen and stuck in a few tomato plants and basil. In the second spring, however, we dug proper potagers, three raised beds outside the kitchen door. One has been taken over by the world's most prolific rosemary bush, some thyme and a columnar apple tree. The other two are for a revolving cast of vegetables. That same year we also put three raised beds on the north side of the house where I intended to have my cutting garden. I still adore the idea of a cutting garden. The problem is that I rarely made it over to that side of the house. The beds became mostly receptacles for weeds, maple seedlings and the stray cosmos or poppy. We eventually torn these beds down. When it comes to flowers I guess I'm more a border than beds kinda gal.

It didn't take me many years to figure out that I preferred to spend my energies on the kitchen garden and my roses. Thus, I've planted borders of lavendar, the praises of which I'll sing in another post, bulbs and other plants that do not require my undivided attention. I still envision more plant material, more form to my gardens. The front garden, which presents it's face to the world, is still entirely too linear. The back garden, where we spend all our summer hours, is still, after nearly 9 years, a shapeless void. There are three things which get in the way of my vision:

1) Our land. It is hard pack clay and rock. Breaking the sod is backbreaking pioneer work and then the soil must be amended and amended and amended again. I carve out a little more every year but I always stop short of the goal because it is just too damn hard!

2) Finances. I don't care how much money I have to spend, it is never enough to get all the material I want.

3) Will. I'm honest about this. I love the idea of a garden sometimes more than I enjoy the reality of making a garden.

In a world of woulda, coulda, shoulda, I don't want my garden to be yet another agent of guilt. I don't want to focus on the remaining empty spaces but on all the form and color that has been introduced. Because when I look at before and after pictures of our place, we've done a lot. It isn't award-winning, but it's a lot more interesting. And that should be reward enough. Most days, it is.

The Season Begins

We have had one of the rainiest winters on record but this week has dawned nearly spring-like. There are three crocuses in the front garden and yesterday was warm enough that I could actually stomach the idea of pulling some weeds. The mud factor was huge and I wasn't really dressed for it so I stopped but there is a 4x1 foot strip in one potager that looks pretty terrific right now.

I like writing about my garden more than I like actually gardening. This time of year is all about the inspiration. The seed catalogs start showing up. The NW Flower and Garden Show happens. I'll fold down corners, make notes, snap photos and maybe even sketch, very badly, some ideas. The inspiration begats passion, a passion that might even last through March. Because dreaming is fun! So is planning and talking and planting. Mainenance, not so much.

One of my intentions for the new year was to be a better gardener this year than last. This will not be difficult. The bar is very low. And I thought that maybe, just maybe, blogging about it will make me more accountable. Let's see, shall we?