Excuse the poor exposure. The light was all wrong, but I just had to share this guy with you. My preference is for plants that already have personality. Still, the personality that has been imposed upon this plant did stop me in my tracks and make me dig around for the camera.
Around the same time we left downtown Portland for our bit of ground on the outskirts, our good friends Susan and Gilbert made an even greater leap of faith. They moved to Carlton, OR, in the heart of wine country, where Gilbert opened Cuvee, a restaurant where he can ply his considerable skills as a French chef (yes, those are banners by Ricki bracketing the facade).
Susan, meanwhile, as soon as she recovered from the shock of rural life, located, and bonded with, every creative person in the vicinity. One of these artist friends has a birthday in late April. She and Susan put their heads together and devised an annual event, a Birthday Party built around a theme (different each year) requiring costumes, elaborate invitations, favors, awards…these babes pull out all the stops. This year we were to come as our 9-year-old selves. The invitations arrived in envelopes apparently addressed in a fourth grader’s best block printing. Inside was a lined sheet torn from a spiral notebook with a class photo and all the pertinent info.
Hopscotch, anyone?
Kid-pleasing vignettes met the eye in every direction. I was so taken with the bear that I failed to notice my pillows on the couch until I looked at the shot later.
Here’s our birthday girl, Lorrie, leaning into little (it’s a state of mind) Ashley. There must have been 25 to 30 women, ranging in age from 20’s to 80’s, and all blending into a harmonious whole…if you can imagine such a thing.
Mousketeer Nancy was adept with hula hoop and yoyo, performing with great dash and confidence some tricks I had never seen before. Annie in pigtails had just “fallen out of a tree”, and broken branches were sticking out of her tomboy duds every which way. Evonne came as the 9-year-old she always wanted to be, right down to the ankle strap shoes she didn’t get the first time around. That’s me on the right. Something about pulling hair into two pony tails, one on each side of the head, makes me feel like a kid again.
Footwear played a big part in our regressions. Marilyn’s white knee sox show off her Mary Janes, while Ellie’s zany patterned version hints that her mastery of combining colors and patterns started early.
Tracy threw herself into her role by ramping up her already high energy level to that of a hyper kid on a sugar high. With her is our co-hostess, Susan, who always could pull a look together.
Hank, at one year old, must have gotten his directions turned around. He arrived looking much older than his year.
Here’s Elna, showing off her certificate for “student of the year” and her lunch box prize filled with twinkies, bubble gum Crackerjacks, etc. You can see the refreshment bar to the side, well stocked with KoolAid, Tang…oh joy!
Having feasted on delicacies like grilled cheese, pbj, mac ‘n cheese, jello molds and the like, a fire drill booted us out to the fire pit for some singing and storytelling and visiting.
Everyone had come a considerable distance on winding country roads (plus that Tang was laced with a little something) so of course it was a sleepover. We had developed grown-up tastes overnight and brunch on the terrace was magnificent.
People were having a hard time tearing themselves away. As I wandered around taking pictures, I kept dropping into little groups having all sorts of interesting conversations. Tomorrow, I will take you on a walk around this wonderful property and then show you the strange sight that we earmarked for pictures on the way here.
Both of our kids used to live in LA, so trips south were on the agenda every once in a while. When we ran out of museums, I finally talked everyone into a trip to Watts. Have you heard of the towers? They are the work of one man, a day laborer who spent every minute off the job, and every cent he earned at it, constructing these amazing structures in his back yard. The armatures are rebar. Aside from that and the cement covering it, everything is done with scrounged materials.
In the close-up, you can see some of the detail. Every surface is covered with mosaics made of broken crockery, glass, shells, tiles, etc. The fence around the perimeter of the property has old bed springs as its base. Newel posts are topped with finials of teapots. Simon Rodea spent every available waking hour either foraging for materials or scrambling up his structures by means of a window washer’s belt and buckle. When dark fell, he rigged up lighting so he could continue his work. He made no drawings and used only the simplest of tools.
The tallest of the towers is 99.5′. Rodea’s comment on his magnificent art work was typically humble: “I had in mind to do something big and I did it.” His obsession had cost him his wife, but upon completion he deeded the property to a neighbor and moved away to be close to family. He was 75. The place fell into neglect. School children used the finials for target practice. The city declared it a hazard and prepared to raze it to the ground. A group of artists and actors, led, I seem to remember, by Vincent Price, were successful in saving them, in no small part by way of an engineering test that included a truck with a winch attempting to pull them down. Buckminster Fuller, no less, proclaimed them marvels of engineering.
Now listed on the National Register of Historic Places, they are protected and maintained. For a small fee, you can take a tour, hear the remarkable story, and best of all, sit a spell and soak up the extraordinary atmosphere.
If you saw The Shining, you have seen better shots of Timberline lodge from the outside than anything I can share with you, but the interior in that movie was, for some inexplicable reason, an insipid, uninteresting (oh, I get it: they didn’t want the surroundings to upstage the actors)…enough said.
Coming through the front doors, one is greeted by this impressive stone fireplace. When I was growing up, we spent nearly every winter weekend in Government Camp. This room was open to the public for use as a kind of warming hut. A roaring fire was always blazing, chairs full of recovering skiers were arrayed around it, and the air was permeated with the aroma of wet wool, scorched mittens drying on the hearth and wood smoke. It was a magical refuge between ski runs between Timberline and Government Camp.
The entire lodge was built as a WPA project during the depression, and is filled with the work of artists and artisans of the time. Just inside the entry, the drinking fountain is backed by this mosaic. You get some idea of the scale from the fountain in the foreground.
Turn around, look up, and see this frieze decorating the massive beam over the doors. The exit sign is distracting here, but when one is in the space, the art and architecture overwhelm such petty incursions.
Let’s go upstairs. Each newel post, throughout the building, is a full sized log, carved at the top with the image of an iconic northwest creature nestled down peacefully for a snooze. This one is a bear cub.
Here’s a fawn.
Love this owl.
Nothing can truly prepare one for emerging into this magnificent space, anchored by the massive stone fireplace. It extends a full three stories. See the railings of the balcony? That is where our dinner was served, with a view out across the foothills, with Mt. Jefferson framed in the distance.
Even more refined than the downstairs, every detail has been wrought by the hands of an accomplished artisan. Here I show you one of many light fixtures, and the warm, cozy glow it casts upon the timbered ceilings and walls, in contrast to the snow piled up outside the window. Remember that this is late March. In January, the snow would have covered the windows entirely. Paintings by C.S. Price hang on many of the walls.
Seated in the Ram’s Head Lounge, we were closer to the heavily beamed ceiling, and spent considerable time speculating “How did they DO that?”
The whole expedition to the mountain was prompted by a visit from San Francisco by daughter Hillary and her boyfriend Chris. When she emailed me about this as a desired destination, it surprised me, because as children, my two wanted nothing to do with the cold…both beating hasty retreats to warmer climes at the earliest opportunity. My attempts to propel them into nature were largely exercises in futility. Guess the seeds I planted years ago have finally decided to sprout. Thanks, Hillary, for instigating a visit to one of my favorite places on earth, right in our back yard.
Delma lives in the Sellwood neighborhood. She hosted our book club in her art-filled condo Saturday afternoon, and then we went for a walk around the ‘hood.
One intersection is designated as a community gathering place, with hand-built structures on each corner. This one is a play station for kids. The street itself (in the foreground) is painted with swirling, colorful designs that are changed or updated regularly.
Under-cover benches grace two of the corners. I think this is straw bale construction. Love the streamers. Directly across from this bench is a coffee/tea station with a couple of carafes, tea bags and a selection of mugs on pegs.
We couldn’t resist trying out the other bench, but it was way too cold to linger for long. The orange house in the background gives you some idea of the character of the neighborhood: lots of old-time houses, gardens galore, and in-fill projects designed to complement the mix.
Before we move on, here’s the artful little news kiosk, filled with local newpapers “The Sellwood Bee”, produced just down the street.
The commercial strip is lined with antique shops and boutiques. On this weekend, they had conspired to put on “Decemberville”, complete with horse-drawn carriage rides up and down the main drag, and goodies like hot cider and homemade cookies offered for browsers.
Fittingly, the swankiest building on the strip holds a shop filled with luxury items from many eras.
Just inside the door is this room-high tree with a white feathered peacock.
One of many chandeliers. There wasn’t a one of us who failed to find something to lust after in this shop…which made us short on time to do the other intriguing places justice. You could do worse than to plan on spending a whole day soaking up the atmosphere in Sellwood.
Can’t seem to let go of this holiday…but this will be the last of it for this year, I promise. We took a little trip to St. Helens (the town, not the mountain) to deliver boxes of apples and pears to a friend with a bakery there. Driving through on Hwy 30, one would never suspect that if you turn right, away from the strip mall atmosphere hunkered around the highway, you can wind your way down to the river’s edge, where you will find the charming remnants of the original town.
All along both sides of the main drag, at regular intervals, inventive scarecrow-like figures stand sentinel.
Like this tattered shade.
A towering pirate.
And a wacky chef doing a jig.
An ornate iron gate protects the grandest house on the street.
Where a gathering of ghouls and goblins await intrepid “trick or treat”ers (if, that is, they can get past the giant spiders cavorting on the stairs).
On the way home, we stopped at the Scappoose Fred Meyer to pick up a few things. The joint was jumpin. A costume contest for kids was attracting bevies of tiny princesses and fairies, hordes of skeletons, spacemen and hobos. My favorite was a mere babe in full pirate regalia. The woman who pumped our gas sported impressive black feathered wings, dark glasses and black horns sprouting through a maroon wig styled in a short bob. We live down a sheltered lane where nary a costumed kid has ventured in the six years we have lived here, no matter how much we doll up the house in attempts to lure them. That makes it vital for us to get out and about to soak up the ghostly atmosphere. Wouldn’t miss it!
Last Saturday was the one truly perfect day in recent memory. As luck would have it, that was the day my book club was heading up the gorge to gather at a vacation home perched over the Columbia River outside of Stevenson, WA. Some of us gathered at Stan and Steph’s house to car pool, and I couldn’t resist snapping some shots of their three year old garden.
In the gravel-mulched parking strip there are two of these variegated cornus.
Dahlias are sprinkled throughout, with their colors worked beautifully into the overall design. We who grow dahlias are always ready to share the bounty, so I’m looking forward to a swap next time we dig.
Those iris were passalongs from me, but I have been less successful in using them as part of a textural mix. Back to the drawing board.
Stan is the gardener here, but Steph gets into the act with touches like the Jack ‘O Lantern lights along the walk.
And her “installation” art along the fence leading to the back of the house.
The dry gravel beds in back have a dry river bed of river rock meandering through, punctuated with boulders (Stan is always on the lookout for interesting rocks when he’s exploring our great out-of-doors.
This fabulous chocolate mimosa towers over the corner of the deck. I gasped when I spotted the plant tag, with a price tag in the thousands. Stan just chuckled, and allowed as how his tree had been in the nursery’s “hospital”. Stan was only too glad to take on the foster parenting role, and just look at the result.
OK, all you townies who are ending the season less than satiated…here’s the deal. Joy Creek Nursery is open through the end of October, with all plants at least 20% off, and some as much as half off. I discovered this only because when our friends from Denver oohed and aahed over our garden, I decided to show them the real deal. We popped on over (it is only 5 miles from home) to stroll through the extensive display gardens. These friends are not real gardeners, so you can imagine my frustration when we whipped through the paths, and dashed for the car when the first raindrops hit. A puzzled employee wondered what was up, and that was when I learned of the deals to be had. I would have gone back anyway, just to enjoy the gardens at my leisure.
A long view of one of many paths.
A bamboo grove marks the entry
Within the grove, this seat invites contemplation. The last time I was here, several children were playing house in this imagination-inducing enclosure.
The puffball seedheads of the clematis are weaving their way through the grass on the left.
And another shot with the grass as the star.
I have one of these ‘Thunderhead’ pines…hope it will look like this one day.
The variegated pieris virtually sparkled in the late season sun.
Love the way the two heathers become one, for a bi-color spill over the boulders containing the raised bed.
Design ideas abound in these gardens.
Here is what came home with me. Panicum virgatum ‘Heavy Metal’, on the left. Ceanothus impressus ‘Vandenberg’ will go in the evergreen border developing along the driveway. Three little Cornus canadensis will be added to the woodland where the one planted last year is spreading nicely. Yucca ‘Bright Edge’ will go into the dry berm where the agave conked out. (Don’t worry, Loree…there will still be room for an agave in the spring. Fuchsia mag. v. m. ‘Tricolor’ was a knockout in the border, and guess what! The last one available was half price.
Sequoia sempervirens is a gift to Richard to add to his sequoia “collection”. It will sprawl massively and obliterate its share of the dreaded “lawn”.
We just got back from a few days at the beach, sharing a condo with lifelong friends that we rarely get to see. It was a gorgeous spot, as you can see. This shot was taken from the deck overlooking the ocean in Neskowin.
While others went golfing (not my thing), I took my camera on a walk around the town. There were giant phormiums everywhere.
While hydrangeas in town are doing the fading act, turning shades of russet, at the coast they are still in full swing.
The gunneras seem to thrive in a coastal climate.
I especially love the flights of fancy in coastal gardens. People here seem to take themselves less seriously and just let it all hang out.
Using materials at hand, this homeowner crafted a stone wall with a driftwood gate and large stone post caps.
This colorful cottage was only the beginning.
Its entry was a mosaic fashioned of colorful bottles. In a conversation with a neighbor we learned that each bottle was filled with sand, and yes, the whole area had been dug to a depth to accommodate the entire bottle, placed upside-down and then filled in with sand so that only the bottoms appear at the surface.
Here’s another view. Pretty neat, huh?
The bright red and blue paint job on this house looked right at home in this setting. Adirondak chairs on the porch were painted the same bright red.
A more restrained approach can exist cheek by jowl without looking out of place. Moral of story: at the beach, anything goes.
Yesterday was a fine day for a drive in the country. Good thing, too, as I managed to get us thoroughly lost more than once. The garden created by Craig Quirk and Larry Neill was well worth any extra time and gas expended to find it (coming from the opposite direction from the directions can be confusing to the spatially challenged). We feared an extended stay when it took us half an hour to work our way down a short side walkway to the garden proper. There was so much to see…not only spectacular plantings, but artful surprises tucked in here and there and everywhere.
Eventually, we emerged into the Mediterranean garden, where we were greeted by Craig Quirk, who graciously offered to answer any questions we might have. I had to do some self-editing, as everywhere I looked were plants I had never seen before (didn’t want to swamp our poor host right off the bat). In the foreground of the first picture is a yucca just coming into bloom, backed by a stand of Asdenophile with feathery foliage and a plethora of tiny pencil-like buds which open fully towards evening (I liked them like this). I forgot to ask about that spiny character in the lower right corner, but the leaves entering the frame from the lower left are Melianthus major.
And here is the Melianthus in a starring role center stage in a muscular aqua pot with an arrangement of Echeverias and sea glass at its feet. The background blue is not the sky, but a concrete wall backing a pool with a tall column spilling water into it. On the other side is a secret shade garden of which I have no pictures (in respect for its secretiveness).
This grass keeps popping up, and this is the most success I have had capturing the luminous seed heads on long, stiff stems. Stipa gigantea is, I think, the name it goes by.
These guys are not about to be thwarted by lack of color. Once the petals fall, they paint the poppy pods to enhance the carefully plotted color scheme.
This was as close as I could come to an overview of the main garden. It is divided into color quadrants around a grassy center anchored by a tall wind sculpture. The impressive red banana to the right has a fellow sentinel to the left. They reside in giant pots, and are treated as annuals (no room in the greenhouse).
Standing at the back of the blue quadrant, the defining golden cypresses can be glimpsed through a haze of blue salvia.
A whimsical palm tree…can you identify those coconuts?
On the far side of the garden is a shady oasis, where this giant cast concrete Gunnera leaf drips water into a waiting pool.
While nearby a Crinus has formed handsome pods to rival the dramatic flowers that went before, flanked by leaves of glass catching the light.
The tablescape of succulents where we ended our tour also included a platter of to-die-for cookies flavored with exotic spices and lemonade enhanced with basil and mint. We observed that gardeners are invariably excellent cooks, and generous to a fault.
The open gardens feature of HPSO is my favorite of the many perks that come with membership. I urge you to join if you would like to be invited into wonderlands such as this.