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Thanks to those who sent feedback (some publicly on "Comments," some privately on email) on the question of what to use in my newly exposed garden bed after the quick & unexpected dispatch of the Bradford pear tree on the parkway...you can see how shady it was from the patchy turf grass near tree roots. I inherited the Annabelle Hydrangeas and basically used the rest of the space, as I do for most of my garden, to test what works under hard circumstances; the Peking Cotoneaster did great but the Carolina Sweet Shrub, couldn't be pushed this much, which wasn't really a big surprise given its native conditions: wetter.In my perimeters of dogs & salt, full-sun & sandy soil, I forget to mention pedestrians. This rules out the suggested Rugosa roses because thorns might attack said people...a pity when it comes to those dog owners who let their dogs wander into obvious gardens (I'm sure Dante just forgot to include a place for them in his Inferno). Mint is one of the plants that holds its own against critters of two to four legs, but I want a bolder form in this tiny space. One person rightly warned against the invasive properties of Blue Lyme grass, with which I am unfortunately intimately familiar since a previous gardener installed a patch in her perennial bed to the left of the frame. I was actually thinking of the small Purple Love Grass (Eragrostis spectabilis), a native grass that stays low and has the most endearing bloom, like little spider webs in the morn. Keeping low plants is part of my mission as I am pleased as punch about actually being able to design a section of my condo garden.
To that end, aside from the Love Grass and Allium, I am considering Sedum: it starts growing early and has a nice winter shape. After all, I do often design backwards from winter...Bayberry is something I have liked from the start, but I may need two to get proper fruiting and that may take up too much space in such a tight spot.
One of my favorite perennials is Sanguisorba tenuifolia purpurea. I tried some about a decade ago that I think I first saw in a Piet Oudolf book. Clearly, I didn't have enough sun, so we transplanted it to my neighbor's sunny bed where now, despite no longer having a gardener, being on the sidewalk (dogs) edge and supposedly needing moist soil, it has been thriving in sandy without any care except a spring cut-down. So I may try officinalis which seems to like well-drained. All the Burnets have awesome foliage!
Anyway, I am really excited and hoping to have enough time in the fall to re-do this whole area, something I have never done in this garden...mostly, I just kept pulling out what I inherited before it totally died as the previous landscaper put in everything wrong for the conditions except a double-file viburnum and a yew to cover the gas meter. One thing I have noticed over time is that I think I have too much green in the winter (a yew, some boxwood, some vinca, Christmas ferns) and it just feels too unnatural to me in this small Midwestern space. So: we shall see...
Our regional hail storm on June 30th, did not encompass Evanston, but we did suffer some dramatic storm damage.The following afternoon I was returning from a client on the North Shore (which hardly got any rain), when my husband called with breaking news. He wanted to prepare me for the change at home.
For years I have been moaning about the "evil Bradford Pear" tree, in general, but also specifically since we have, or HAD, one mature specimen on our parkway. This is municipal property and thus, basically beyond our control...even more so since we live in a vintage condo. What happened is a textbook case of why liking the flowers that appear for one week is not sufficient reason to plant this tree...ironically I had just returned from aforementioned client whose neighbor had just planted 2 (!) ten feet on center...this for a tree that grows about 40' tall and 30' wide. Yes, I have also cited the fact that being so un-native here, it hardly attracts any insects which would feed the birds. And how its roots reach so far and strong that many municipalities have banned it for the havoc it wrecks on water systems and pipes. But really, the reason you don't want to plant it now is because of exactly what happened to our tree well down-the-road (the arborists guessed about 35 years). This tree doesn't have a strong central leader and that results in many competing branches. That leads to weak crotches and branches that can fall off on cars (what happened here) or people (what luckily didn't happen here).
I assume the storm played a role in helping this weak limb fall, but what was amazing is that in this economy (diminished funds for our municipal forestry dept.), the arborists came out to assess the fallen branch and decided the whole tree was a hazard and had to go immediately. So while I feel a loss, I feel even more strongly that this change was necessary and for the best.
So above you can see the shoemaker's children's garden (mine) on the right running from the double-file viburnum (poorly pruned by some guys who are well-meaning but badly trained) up to about where the tree trunk is down. The surprise for me is that I now have a section of garden about 12' by 2' that is full sun in soil that is basically sand (old lake bed): shocking after years of working in shade. So now my challenge is how to redo that space which will be inundated by dog pee year-round and salt in the winter. I am thinking tulips, grasses, allium and bayberry. ANYBODY HAVE ANY OTHER IDEAS???
Below you can see the nice souvenir one of the arborists cut for me which I plan to display on the back porch.
Well, I've been going up so often, I finally bought a membership to MAM...this excursion was to see Treasures from the Forbidden City. Their Summer of China theme includes five diverse exhibits. You can see my companions in fun: Dave (painter, singer & reader), Sam (architect & gardener) and Nick (painter & gardener). The area with the cool sculpture is the first interior space you enter from the garage and normally very static. This installation charged up the space!
I was totally intrigued by The Emperor's Private Paradise, but you can never photograph inside the traveling exhibits. So instead, I have the experience of learning more about gardens, art, history and culture, not to mention awe for the craftsmanship. Maybe the Chinese reverence for poetry, art and certain principals will stand it (and the rest of the world) in good stead as they grow in power...although there is that nagging issue of climate change and how to approach it. Not that the US is doing such a sustainable job on that political front.
It will not surprise you that the daughter of a mostly black & white photographer took many shots upstairs in "Emerald Mountains: Modern Chinese Ink Paintings from the Chu-Tsing Li Collection."We were going to park in the cheaper lot to the north & east. But the architect amongst us ponied up the extra bucks to park in the MAM garage. To me, it is always a spiritual experience.
It's a properly hot summer's day (muggy near 90 degrees with nearby thunderstorms) to mark the occasion. But I am grateful because I celebrated it with my first morning walk down by the lake in....maybe a month & a half. The Cottonwoods had amassed their stash, children's voices denoted summer camp down by the breakwater and I could now see the clearly dead Ash tree next to where the path meets the rocks. Whether it was Emerald Ash Borer, I don't know, but it did make me realize that several of the dead trees I noticed recently were mostly Ash and a few Elms. I confess the Ash don't pain me as much as the loss of the Elms, but a lost tree usually gives me pause.
Since this is a day to do that, I reflected on a few things. Most of them seemed to fit in the category of things or experiences or people coming back into my life, making me feel "rich." Above you can see the literal currency that emerged unexpectedly from a pants' pocket: the Guatemalan 50 Quetzal note (usually about 8Q to the dollar) which I hope had only been there since my March trip to AFOPADI, not the previous one last July. The other reflections had to do with a resurfacing of connections during this past week with three women I met at the Ragdale Foundation (an artist's colony) during the 80s and 90s while I was there on writing retreats: Danielle Sosin, Ronnie Dreyer and Katherine Kadish. Even though I had read about the changes at Ragdale since my last visit in the late 90s, I was surprised to note my response upon returning (for a reading by Danielle from her recent, critically acclaimed novel: The Long-Shining Waters, this year's Milkweed National Fiction Prize Winner).
What most impressed me was the visceral feeling I experienced of how the landscape had changed. How the giant elm tree branches had expanded where they touched the ground like a benign octopus...how the old Arbs had grown leggier and reached out further shading the path down the south side of the garden...how the canopy of over-story trees had been diminished for the construction and made the old house appear immodest...and how the prairie had shifted and consumed what used to be a meeting place beneath several hawthorns.
I have great gratitude for Ragdale as it nurtured me both as a writer and as a future landscape person. For about 15 years, I was lucky enough to roam the prairie during all seasons when I was in a receptive state. I am sure this is part of why I love landscape. You can access that prairie now through the Open Lands Foundation Skokie River Nature Preserve in Lake Forest, Illinois and experience it for yourself...
