sprig to twig

I’d like to invite you to visit Rusty Spade to read the piece I wrote for Petunia’s ongoing series of gardeners’ stories. While you’re there, you might as well explore her delightful blog. For those of you who have been curious about what the BeBop Garden looked like, I managed to dig out some old photos of the before, during and after to be included in that post.

You might also like to visit Blooming Blogs. That’s where I hooked up with Petunia, as well as many other new blogging friends. If, like me, you found Blotanical incomprehensible, this might appeal to you. It’s quite new, so you would be getting in on maybe not the ground floor, but still early on when your voice will be heard and you can influence its development.

And here are a few peeks at what that garden looks like today:

That’s what a happy Corokia cotoneaster looks like.

Covering 187 acres of Portland’s West Hills, Hoyt Arboretum is a living museum where joggers, dog walkers, lovers, strollers, photographers and, first and foremost, tree lovers can immerse themselves in nature any day of the year.

Sunday brought a break in the weather, so people were out in force. The parking lot was full and cars were parked all along Fairview Blvd. Still, with 12 miles of trails, it never felt crowded.

The visitors’ center is not open on Sunday, but there are pamphlets available with maps, etc., and a large informational board showing which trails offer the optimum experience season by season. For autumn, the Maple Trail is recommended, but first we had a look around the entry plantings. It always seems a little odd to me to see zonal denial plants like palms and agaves in public spaces (like the train station, much as I like the plantings), but the arboretum proper features trees from all over the world, so I guess the patchwork in the entry makes a certain amount of sense.

This rocky berm might have slipped right by me had not Loree posted about crevice gardens a while back. I don’t know if this can go by that name because those had plants tucked in here and there. This one is all rocks.

Several large planters break up the space.

When one of the pots sports an unusual plant like this Pseudopanax ferox…

there is detailed signage to tell all about it.

The same system held elsewhere: ordinary stuff went unidentified, but anything out of the ordinary was well documented.

 On our way to the Maple Trail, we passed through an area planted entirely with natives, but I was saving my sputtering battery for the colors of autumn.

The color was slightly more intense, but this is pretty close.

The long views were splendid, and with well-placed paths and rolling hills there was a new vista around every turn.

See what I mean?

Parts of the landscape were enveloped in pockets of fog.

This little family was capturing memories backed by the flaming foliage of sumac.

Since the arboretum was established in 1928, there are many magnificent old trees with signage affixed to their trunks. More recent additions, like this paperbark maple, are marked by small stone pillars bearing pertinent information.

OK, so some helpful graffiti artist took exception to the Acer griseum designation (did you notice the “not a” scratched onto the sign?), but one look at this peeling bark should be enough to set him/her straight.

Here’s the leaf of the above tree. Color, leaf shape, interesting bark: all have me convinced that this is one to hunt down for the R&R Ranch.

And while I’m in the market for more red, how about the color of those leaves recently fallen from Acer pseudosieboldianum var. tatsiense?

And here is the tree itself. As you can see, we decided on this outing in the nick of time to catch the tail end of the color show. There are plenty of other reasons to visit the arboretum in all seasons and all kinds of weather. Next trip: evergreens, or maybe just a brisk walk unencumbered by camera. If you happen to come away with a wish list, a good place to start your search would be Plant Lust. I usually just carry around my desiderata, waiting for one of my coveted beauties to show up. This particular tree seems to deserve a more concerted effort on my part.

We waited so very long, and just as they began to pour out of the garden (yes, those really are ripe…they’re ‘Great Whites’, new this year, and that’s what a ripe one looks like), the night time temps started dropping. Well, we couldn’t let go of the harvest without putting up a fight, so R put on his thinking cap.

He painted several water jugs black, so they would absorb more heat during the daylight hours. A large sheet of plastic was stapled to the front of the raised bed.

Come evening, the jugs are moved in close to the plants and the plastic is pulled over. A couple of furniture clamps on the free side of the plastic keep it from blowing off.

And here they are , all snug in their bed, while visions of spaghetti sauce dance in our heads.

Yes, the coddling is paying off. On the other hand, some plants that came up from the compost in the darnedest places and received absolutely no attention are performing marvelously. I always heard that volunteers should be yanked out for fear of harboring disease, but R couldn’t reconcile himself to losing potential tomato factories…so there you are…another pearl of wisdom debunked.

When we moved here eight years ago this plum tree was looking pretty ragged and derelict. R has given it his full attention, along with the other fruit trees, and it is finally paying off. You can’t really tell from this photo how loaded with fruit it is.

I love the “bloom” on the surface of the deeply purplish-brown fruits.

The new pressure canner holds ten half pint jars.

At this rate, the pantry will fill up pretty fast. I doubled the following recipe, which yielded the 10 half-pints plus a larger jar that went into the fridge for immediate use.

4 cups of plums, pitted and quartered.

Add to 2 cups water, bring to boil, partially cover and simmer for 30 minutes.

Add 1/4 cup strained lemon juice, 4 cups of sugar and the rind of an orange, cut in strips.

Boil on medium high until sugar dissolves, then cook at a brisk boil for 10 min. (to 220 degrees)

Stir in 1/2 cup Grand Marnier at the last minute.

Seal into jars with 2 part lids and process for 15 minutes.

You can always find fun ideas for using your garden’s bounty by visiting Greenish Thumb.

Anyone who has been gardening in Portland for any time at all knows about Lucy Hardiman and her garden. The bench in the foreground of this shot (taken from the sidewalk, looking up at the house through madcap plantings) is emblematic of her generosity of spirit. She put it there so that passers-by would have a spot to rest their bones and take in the surrounding bounty.

One need not even enter the inner sanctum to experience a garden worth making a special trip to see.

A big fan of Phlomus russeliana, I never lusted after the pink one, but these are more of a dusty mauve, and are going on my wish list, as is the Aesclepsia front and center.

Yes, the parking strips are brimming with interest, but on the other side of the walk the fun really begins, like this Hakanachloa macra catching the light as it spills over the retaining wall.

Part of Lucy’s genius is knowing when to cut back and when to let well enough alone. Allium seedheads are sculptural elements long after the colors fade.

Pathways to the street are paved with pebble mosaics.

Here’s more of that Phlomus, this time paired with the deep bronze tones of barberry.

OK, so as a member of HPSO, I actually have been invited to enter Lucy’s realm…

where the play of light and shade is dramatic, and must render the garden a changing experience all through the day.

A calm expanse of lawn anchors the space.

The four corners of the lawn are defined by sky blue newel caps.

At one end, a gravel path leads to another square.

In the center of the gravel square sits a large terra cotta pot with a bouquet of brightly colored metal swirls.

The formal elements give way to an explosion of exuberance in the surrounding borders, as with these spires of Veronicastrum virginicum ‘Fascination’.

One corner of the garden is dominated by a large tree hung with colorful shiny balls.

A chimney pot echoes the color of the fuzzy undersides of a Rhododendron’s leaves.
There is a name for that, but I can never remember what it is.

Despite the liberal use of garden art, this garden is all about the plants. I’m guessing the height of this Mahonia to be 10-12′.

I would have expected a huge Brugmansia to be featured in a starring role, but this one is tucked away to be discovered…expect the unexpected.

A seating area is as colorful as the garden in full bloom, and as is Lucy herself. I can’t believe that I have been a member of HPSO for many years without ever before having visited this treasure…but there you have it: always something waiting to be explored. A brand new member shows you her take on this same garde4n at Bell and Star

And here’s one final, parting shot from across the street, as I prepare to get in my car and bid this inspirational garden a reluctant farewell.

When the plants labeled lemon cucumbers instead began shucking out these, I decided it was time for a new experiment.

I had never made pickles before. It was incredibly easy. With this much raw material at hand, I will be trying out several variations and will let you know if there is a clear standout.

One tip was to put a grape leaf in the jar with the pickles to assure crispness. When I stopped by to see Michelle of Jockey Hill Nursery at the Scappoose Farmers’ Market, sure enough, she had grape vines. This one is a seedless Concord, good for jellies and pies, but it was the leaves I was after.

If you find yourself headed for the coast on Hwy 30 on a Saturday morning, you would be well advised to stop by this market. Michelle has healthy, well-groomed plants and there are always at least 5 that I can hardly resist. This Panicum virgatum ‘Shenandoah’ had to come home with me. Cooking and planting: what a way to spend a beautiful weekend.

Want to see what others are cooking up from their gardens’ bounty? Visit Wendy and she will put you on the right path.

Remember the old song “Buffalo Gals Won’t You Come Out Tonight”?

Well, I guess these Rosa ‘Buffalo Gals’ will oblige.

I am really liking the way the colors are working out in this bed, so I’ll show you the overview before zooming in on a few of the individuals. See how the Acaena inermis ‘Purpurea’ ground cover echoes the color of the Acanthus flowers, with Verbena bonariensis weaving through the berm with its perky lighter purple blossoms bouncing along on stiff, long stems? Two kinds of Eremurus introduce amber through orange, with a bright orange geum that you can’t quite see in this shot and the acid green of the Euphorbia ‘Ascot Rainbow’

Here’s a closer look at the Acanthus spinosa.

Eremurus ‘Cleopatra’ with the much shorter ‘Ruiters Hybrid’ just peeking into the frame lower left.

Looking at the east berm from one end, there’s a whole lotta yellow for someone who started out shunning that particular color. The tall thing front and center is a volunteer Verbascum, with Lysimachia ‘Alexander’ trying hard to cast off its variegation to the left and Phlomus russeliana barely showing, stage right.

I am crazy for the architecture of the Calla Lily. Is it still properly called Zantedeschia?

I turned a little bit to the left, standing in the same spot where I took the last picture to snap these plume poppies, Macleaya cordata, happily wrapping themselves around the foundation of the house and nodding at us through the second story windows when we are inside, looking out.

We trimmed back some limbs on the cherry trees to let in more light, and so the water lilies have consented to bloom.

This makes me think of the story of The Ugly Duckling. That funny looking Allium (which I love, by the way) is called ‘Hair’. I have several of them scattered about, but I especially like it mixed in with its more conventional cousins, the drumsticks (Allium sphaerosephalon).

More yellow…guess I’m hooked. Hypericum ‘Brigadoon’ blooms yellow on nearly yellow foliage. It makes a stunning ground cover, giving the tall lilies the shade they like at ground level.

This is something new I picked up from Means Nursery: Campanula punctata ‘Pantaloons’. It was a five gallon plant. I put it in the ground at the woodland’s edge. It immediately began to droop and wither despite careful watering. Richard dug it up, to find that the gophers had been at it and eaten right up the middle. He put it in a big pot with lots of good soil and stuff and it seems to be recovering. Maybe I will put it into a wire basket to replant it where I want it next spring. Isn’t it cute, with its double flowers?

This hydrangea, ‘Preziosa’, is one of the few that came back strong after the harsh winter. I like the bronzy tones in the leaves, the deep maroon stems and the many different subtle colors of the blossoms.

This nearly black hollyhock, Alcea rosea ‘Nigra’ is putting in an appearance just in time for bloom day.

Rosa ‘Dortmund’ is blooming madly, but I like glimpsing its masses of single blossoms through the tall foliage of the Joe Pye Weed.

Crocosmia ‘Lucifer’

Irish moss

It takes a long time for Hydrangea petiolaris to take hold, begin to climb and flower (six years is about standard) but when it does, look out. This one is ready for another training session.

Some of the blossoms hold the promise of good eating ahead, like this lemon cucumber blossom.

Speaking of promises, May Dreams Gardens keeps the promise of connecting you with blogs of blooms on the fifteenth of every month. Try it, you’ll like it.

I open with this shot because it so perfectly illustrates the symbiotic relationship between the garden and the art…

although this huge water pot was actually the first feature to greet us as we entered.

Strategically placed here, there and everywhere are examples of the art that pours out of Jean’s Greenware Pottery.

If you can tear your eyes off the ground level vignettes and raise your head, you can glimpse the studio where it all happens.

Another outlet for Jean’s creativity is her way with container gardens. This one sits in front of the studio. If you look closely, you can just see some of her products in the background.

Small pots with cunning plantings are tucked in without ever looking like afterthoughts.

A beautiful old tree around the other side of the studio holds an assortment of bird houses created by the artist, while providing the conditions for a shade garden.

One of several healthy looking phormiums caught my eye. I asked Jean about them, hoping to hear some magical formula for nursing them through harsh winters. She simply buys new ones each year: they are that important to the architecture of the garden.

Between the studio and the main house sits the pond, the most recent addition to this six-year-old garden.

The plantings around and in the pond guarantee that its newness bears not a hint of rawness.

I couldn’t stop snapping photos of this particular combination for the color echoes spanning different textures. In the background are daylilies in vivid sunset tones, further forward, a dwarf cotinus billowing amber and in the foreground, the strappy phormium tying it all together.

By panning a little to the left, you can see how yet another texture has been introduced with the smooth green ball cozying up to the phormium. The whole garden has been considered this carefully. To the back of the house, the garden steps down to a grassy area and then the river. Jean and her husband were deep into preparations for next week’s Garden Conservancy tour, but Jean’s generous nature demanded that she spend time with us, sharing insights and inspirations.

Back at the studio came the hard part: deciding which of Jean’s whimsical garden creatures would come home with us.

I settled upon this dragonfly with ceramic body and tail and wings fashioned of willow twigs.

I figured you need to see a close up to appreciate the happy, loopy expression.

Marilyn saw how difficult it was for me to choose, so she bought me one of the flying fish, now frolicking in my heuchera bed…a fitting reminder of a lovely day.

We went to the farmers’ market to get tomato plants, and kind of went our separate ways. When we got home, we saw that each of us had purchased a generous bunch of asparagus. One we ate, of course. The second bunch got put in a vase to help support a bouquet of peonies (tree peony ‘Chinese Dragon’).

In case you’re interested, my favorite way to serve asparagus is lightly steamed, with a sprinkle of this concoction: sauté onions in butter, add dry mustard and almond meal and sprinkle over the asparagus. Wendy can put you in touch with all kinds of yummy ways to use the season’s bounty, and even offers prizes if you want to join in the fun.

Rosettes that will soon begin to send up tall stalks of common foxgloves could easily pass for something more exotic. They migrate into and around the garden from surrounding meadows and roadsides. It is always fun to see where they will pop up each year.

Shy little rosettes of Lysimachia ‘Alexander’ push their blushing noses through the mat of spent stems, giving precious little indication of the aggressive, upright plants they will become.

Herbaceous peonies are deep scarlet when they first emerge. In the three years they have been in the ground, they have yet to bloom. That’s OK by me, because they are spectacular foliage plants.

My sumac does not go in for a showy dying act in the fall, but displays some subtle coloration as the leaves unfurl.

Variegated sedum is at its very best from now through June, when it starts to produce lackluster, leggy flower stalks. Pinching it back has not proved to keep it looking fresh, so I just ignore its profligate ways until cutting back time in the early spring.

Peeling bark and a satiny finish that invites stroking are every bit as good a reason to grow this eucalyptus as its aromatic leaves.

In its cloak of lichen, the volunteer cherry seedling seems almost to be in perpetual bloom. Against the dark background of tall cedars, it brightens the woodland we see out our dining room window year round.

I am a day late, so you may need to scroll down a bit when you click to find Pam’s foliage follow-up post, with links to other foliage fanatics amongst us. Have fun!