People are always referring to our “green thumbs”. How about wearing a little patch of grass on your ring finger? Nice twist, don’t you think? I came across this here on Etsy, and just had to share it with my gardening friends.
Last week, when I decided to take a little side trip to buy seeds at Garden Fever, it was a bleak and blustery day. In defiance of the wind and rain, the outdoor display dared to hint that Spring really is just around the corner.
A flat of hyacinths is a morale booster if ever there was one.
With the kind permission of owner Lori Vollmer, I took a few shots inside the store, to show you how you might cheer yourself up even on the darkest of days. Just look at this stunning collection of hummingbird feeders. I was on a mission to purchase seeds, but will be back soon to choose one of these to replace my tacky plastic version. Trouble is, I want them all.
This wall is a colorful reminder that gardeners’ gear need not be dull and merely utilitarian.
And where would we be without books to see us through the long winter months?
Out in the yard there are vignettes with groups of pots clustered to show off not only themselves, but specimen trees and shrubs, while in the background the hubbub of incoming plants builds toward the spring surge. I must remember to stop by here more often. It really did lift my spirits and send me off to face whatever the day might bring. What are the shops that do that for you?
Seems like the bundles of blossoms at the supermarket get stingier every year. I could not resist the bucket of daffodils placed coyly near the checkout stands. There were only five stems to a bunch, so I bought two, thinking that a mere five would make a pretty poor showing. Then, when I got home, I remembered this vase, given to me by my daughter a few years back. It has a shallow tray, which I filled with pebbles, because there are few things I love more than pebbles. A metal superstructure fits into the tray, forming a grid that holds each individual stem upright and separate from its fellows. This bouquet manages to be impressive while using only the five stems, so I had another five to use somewhere else.
Here is that same arrangement from a different angle.
Here’s another favorite, a slab of slate with a hole drilled in the middle…
attached to a container that doesn’t show unless we get down and peer at it from this angle.
A frog is positioned right under the hole. This is a particularly useful vase during the winter months, when flowers are only available from resources other than our own gardens. I can buy a single dramatic flower, secure it in this vase and enjoy without breaking the bank. Even in high bloom season, I am often reluctant to deplete the outdoor display. With vases like these, it is possible to have the best of both worlds.
Need a place to put overflow visitors? Coming to Portland and wonder where to stay? Have I found a place for you.
Driving west on Northrup, this is what stopped me in my tracks. The palm trees were wrapped in burlap against the winter chill, then wound with strings of lights. I must remember to go back at night to see the full effect.
Once I got out of the car to snap a photo, I started noticing further detail. Looking down the sidewalk, you can see the line of palms with lush interplanting.
The signage at the entry is understated, but that is about the only subtle touch on this exuberant place.
See what I mean? These bright orange pots can’t help but lure the curious.
That would be me, of course. After this peek through the window, what choice had I but to go inside?
The collection of chairs in the morning room is nothing short of Seussian.
Many shapes, many colors, and a big bowl of colorful candy on each table. What a way to start the day with a smile.
The plantings are a masterful blend of hardy tropicals and hardier tropical-looking natives.
I am tempted to invite a bunch of out-of-town guests, just so we could avail ourselves of The Inn @ Northrup Station. Or maybe even book a staycation and spend a weekend there ourselves. We could take mass transit from the front door and do all the things we seem to put off until “some other day”.
One of the things I like about a wet spell is that the garden loosens its hold and allows us to do other things. On Saturday, we spent the morning slogging through the muddy sidelines, watching friends’ eleven-year-old play football. We’d been hearing that he was a talented player and he proved it. We only lasted through a half, but in that time he made two touchdowns, a sack and recovered a fumble. I was amazed at how hard these kids tackled. The thwacking sounds were a little unsettling, but they always seemed to come up grinning. Sunday was a day for a lazy breakfast and gallery-hopping. Coming home, we usually take a tour through the old neighborhood. In the building that used to house “Castaways”, they were having a big furniture sale, so we stopped for a look-see. The furniture didn’t interest us much, but stepping onto the loading dock…
the adventure began with a gazebo…
surrounded by an assortment of large pots. When we later chatted with the woman holding down the fort, we learned that all of these neighboring businesses, which kind of flow into one another, share resources. For instance, the plants you see in many of the pots come from Pomerius, a nursery just down the stairs from the large loading dock. The pots, statuary, outdoor furniture and gazebo are Versailles Gardens merchandise, which spills over into the indoor space where, on this day, one woman was overseeing the whole shebang.
An interesting assortment of chickens have the run of the place, but most of them were working over the mountain of potting soil. Must have been a trove of good bugs hiding in there.
A few of them were hanging out in the outdoor lunchroom. I thought to myself “Boy, if one worked here lunch would be a special event, with produce from the extensive raised beds and eggs from the chickens. Apparently, if we were to stop by on a Thursday, we’d be invited to share the soup of the day in this fully equipped outdoor kitchen with tent roof overhead.
But lets take a look at some of the plants, shall we? This nursery kind of limped along for the first few years, so I am happy to see it coming into its own.
The plant material trends toward the exotic, which suits me just fine. It is also way too rich for my pocketbook when something like this magnificent aloe runs to three figures. At this point, I stopped looking at tags and decided to simply drink in the beauty.
Everything looked like it had been coddled to the peak of perfection.
And arranged to show to best advantage.
I could pretty much point the camera in any direction and win points for composition.
The art of topiary is definitely practiced here.
Everything from little balls of boxwood to the big twisty thing and everything in between.
Leave us not forget the espaliered apple tree. I am no fan of torturing trees, but must admire anything that is done so well.
Time to wend our way back through the labyrinth of beauty, but I’ll be back…say on a Thursday…around noon?
Oh, and by the way, right next door is Bedford Brown, and just up the street…well, never mind. It is just safe to say that I will never run out of material as long as the camera holds out.
The last time I drove into town I took the back roads and had my camera handy.
Lining a long driveway off of Cornell Road is this whimsical band fashioned from steel and odds and ends of household appliances, tools and such.
There were no trespassing signs, so I had to use my zoom to get a closer look.
Years ago, I interviewed a potter who lived in this cottage with studio attached. Since his death a few years ago, it has become completely overgrown, but you can still see the clay relief over the door.
He must have planted this giant weeping sequoia long before they became all the rage. It practically engulfs the studio.
But here, dominating the neighbor’s yard, is the work that Joel Cottet was known for. You can spy it from Cornell Road, across the street from the school. The car just visible behind the bush gives you an idea of the scale of the thing.
And in the back yard of this neighbor’s house is a whole row of giant weeping sequoias.
The above photo on Etsy caught my attention, after having read James’ post about it here. He had a colorful name for Stapelia gettleffii based upon the dead meat smell. He called it a “roadkill flower”. Clicking on the image took me to Prickly Pear, where they made no mention of the odor, which attracts pollinating flies. Maybe that was part of the reason that this particular item was sold out by the time I got to the shop. What I found intriguing was their offerings of seeds for all sorts of exotic succulents, including the spiral aloe that I showed you a while back. I may have to give that a try.
A long time ago, the Portland Art Museum had a show of folk art. The pieces were all cobbled together from life’s detritus: everything from barn boards to cast off toilets. One hallway featured wall-sized mural/photos of the artists, mainly gap-toothed black men leaning against equally gap-toothed fences enclosing yards full of “junk”. The striking thing was the rapturous look on the faces of these makers of things. Some time later, R asked me…if I were to be reincarnated, what would I like to come back as? I didn’t need a second to think it over. “One of those old black guys.” Now here’s the thing. Most of the pieces in that show would seem tacky, even laughable, to most observers. Someone with a critical eye saw the heart in them, put them in a museum and called them “Art”. I was reminded of that show the other day as I walked around the neighborhood. People seem to share an impulse to make things. They might be embarassed to show them off indoors, but outside…anything goes.
I will start with the one piece that I think qualifies as “Art” (just my opinion) and got me looking around with this theme in mind. The bee sits unceremoniously in a yard that is not particularly well-tended. I hope to see the owner out and about one of these days so I can ask him about it.
Two of our neighbors spend their days building bird houses and feeders. I guess you would call this more of a cottage industry, but the impulse seems similar. Jim is out in his workshop at the break of each day with the coffee on and the latest neighborhood gossip to share if you care to stop by. He introduced Virgil, across the street, to woodworking, and now they seem to be engaged in a kind of friendly one-upsmanship with their designs.
Jim built this gate between his place and ours.
Every year, a family of swallows takes up residence. As evening falls, they can be seen swooping into that little hole at top speed. (we never lack for entertainment around here)
In the folk art department, everything benefits from a patina of age.
An old rusty saw blade becomes a sun face.
This piece of equipment actually gets used, but it sure looks like it has potential as art somewhere in its future.
Which brings me to my own little chicks pecking around the vegetable raised beds. These were a gift. R slapped his forehead and cried “What Were They Thinking?” I think they’re kinda charming…which just goes to show how “beauty is in the eye of the beholder” got to be such a cliche. When we first saw our present home, I was ready to run screaming from the room. Everything was dark pressed-plywood paneling and sculptured wall to wall carpeting, with an orange fireplace smack in the middle of the living room. It was only as I began to remove the ornate brass fixtures for the fully lined, nubbly plaid draperies that I realized with what care everything had been installed. It sure wasn’t our taste, but it was executed with a thoroughness and precision one had to admire. I got to thinking that the next caretaker of this place might take one look at our faux-painted walls and hardwood floors; our oddball taste in plant material and think to themselves…”What Were They Thinking? Well, with a lot of work, we can fix this.”
We are starting to be on a first name basis with the folks at Scappoose Sand and Gravel. Here’s a glimpse of a corner of the yard featuring decorative options from natural to baroque.
But that is not what we come for. Here is our collection of tubs and garbage containers…enough to contain exactly half a load of mulch.
Surprisingly little of this big scoopful falls outside the containers, to be easily captured in just a few minutes with a shovel. Previously, we had loads delivered and dumped in a big pile, to be distributed over time. This method saves one whole step of shoveling from the pile to a wheelbarrow. We just skootch these containers to the tailgate of the truck, tip them over and let the mulch fall into the wheelbarrow. This is just about the right amount of mulch one can comfortably spread in a day, we don’t have a big, unsightly pile, and the weight is such that there is still a little bit of spring left in the old truck. We consulted with the folks at Joy Creek, and they recommended the dark hemlock bark mulch, so that is what we use (can’t argue with success).
You will find just about anything (in the non-plant category) your little gardening heart desires. Here’s a display case for the small stuff.
An overview of material for larger projects.
How about these massive stone slabs to get one thinking on a grand scale?
Columns of all sizes have been drilled, ready to burble into a variety of ponds.
Or maybe your taste in burblers runs more toward a rough-hewn ball.
These cast concrete bowls are scaled for estate-sized plantings.
Should your estate sport a gigantic rabbit, here’s his Easter basket.
Have I piqued your interest? Drive out Hwy 30 through the little town of Scappoose and turn right at the last light. Now, If you will excuse me, I gotta go mulch.
We headed out one Saturday to see a matinee, and instead wound up at Portland Nursery (and it wasn’t even my idea). Guess the transformation to plant geek is complete. We went our separate ways, but somehow both ended up in front of this tree. The $75 price tag was way too rich for our blood, so we wandered on, only to find the same tree, not much bigger, with a tag of $499! Suddenly the first one seemed like a real bargain. I don’t know what was going on there: maybe marketing genius at work. Anyway, we had found the excuse we needed to justify bringing it home, and who cares if the genius was snickering up his sleeve at the saps who fell for his ruse?
Richard set about building up the berm to give it a nice perch, where it can spill over the edges.
Here is a close-up to show you how gracefully the branches cascade. On the more mature specimen there were juniper berries in abundance, in all their silvery splendor. Can you tell we’re in love? Once the berries show up, we can always go into business making bathtub gin to support our plant habit.