sprig to twig

The cherry trees are blooming, but not the great white cloud of years past.

The trees are covered with lichen and moss. I wonder if that has anything to do with the sparse bloom. Of course the rain could also be the culprit. Any theories?

The rain has certainly taken its toll on Euphorbia wulfenii. When it stands up straight it reaches our second story, and is magnificent. Here, it’s been beaten down to the ground. Ah, well..we takes our chances with this one, but it’s well worth the gamble when things go right.

I planted lots of white anemones, but the heathers have overtaken most of them. Time to order lots more.

Last year the Fuchsia ‘Golden Gate’ went wild and grew clear to the top of the deck roof. Usually, it dies back and/or it gets cut back to the ground. Not this year! It’s leafing out already and I am tempted to give it free rein and see what happens. Do you think I’d be creating a monster?

I’m crazy about the sawtoothed leaves of the Saxifraga dentata I got from Loree at the last plant swap. I left this much of the clump intact, to be on the safe side, but what I really wanted to do was spread it around as a ground cover.

Success! Here are the starts I separated from the main clump last fall. Looks like I’m good to go.

I have a big patch of Mahonia ‘King’s Ransom’. It flowers nicely, but the foliage is rather diseased looking and the plants are leggy. Right after the flowers fade, I am going to cut it back hard. If it doesn’t behave itself next year, it’s coming out (sometimes these threats are just what’s needed).

Another disappointment is this Hellebore, always looking down demurely, afraid to show her face. She would be just right for a terraced garden, where one could catch her off guard by looking up. Anyone out there ready to give her those conditions?

I can’t help myself: I must join the parade of bloggers posting shots of the frosty wonderland.

I’m glad to see the rains return, but it sure was pretty, don’t you think?

This two acre park is tucked into the South Waterfront development, a gentle respite from the glass towers rising all around it. You can see it from a landscape architect’s point of view here and learn about its namesake here by scrolling down to Anna B’s comments. But first, lets just stroll around and see what there is to see.

At the southern end of the park there are swales spanned by plank bridges in sweeping curves.

My first impression was of all native plantings, but in fact there are some non-natives worked in to better serve the design.

These birches are a case in point.

I can’t imagine this scene without them.

Benches have been worked in here and there, each in a style appropriate to its surroundings. Here the bridge planks have been extended to keep sitters out of the flow of foot traffic.

Heading North, you can see the wedge-shaped berm creating a grassy clearing at the center of the park.

Looking back at the berm from the far side, you can see that the plant material and style of planting has changed.

Mass plantings of Cistus (no signage mars the scheme, so my minimal info will have to suffice).

Long borders of red twig dogwood

…must be equally striking once the branches are bare.

Here’s a long border of grasses fronted by liriope.

On this northern end of the park, the paths are made of crushed decomposed granite.

The fountain was not operational on this day, but each of those (rubber) pads has a spout. I can imagine it will be a powerful draw on sunny, hot days.

Liriope used alone.

One of several styles of lamps, with the tram in the distance. I want to visit this park sometime after dark to see the effect of the lighting.

…and again on a windy day to hear the music

Lunch?

Not all benches look the part.

Even the trash cans get the royal treatment. Let me leave you with a few shots of the featured plants and invite you to check out this park at 3508 SW Moody Ave if you find yourself in the neighborhood.

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.

This strikes me as the epitome of autumn: leaves settled in the crotch of the ancient cherry tree.

As the leaves begin to fall from the Poncirus trifoliata ‘Flying Dragon’, the quirky, taloned branches form a tracery through which the colors of the season can be glimpsed.

The Kousa dogwood is doing its bit as it rises from the golden arms of the Lonicera nitida ‘Lemon Beauty’.

Not to everyone’s liking, but reds and purples is one of my favorite combinations: Beauty berry backed up by a common, low-growing form of Nandina.

Even in death, the Eutrochium nee Eupatorium (grrr) pleases my eye…

especially as seen silhouetted against a leaden sky.

Speaking of silhouettes, how about Anemone ‘Honorine de Jobert’? The petals having fallen neatly away, we are left with perfect round balls.

Here’s a less dramatic shot of Mme Jobert. The balls are shiny and green and provide a long-lasting element for late season bouquets.

Some things are struggling to make a showing before frost hits. I don’t think ‘Henry Eilers’ is going to make it. He will be moved to a sunnier spot next spring.

Kniphofia multiflora is giving Jack Frost a run for his money. I’m pulling for him.

I’d given up on this hardy Aloe long ago, but here it is, putting in its first appearance after hiding underground for a few years. Moral of story: never give up.

I never tire of the architecture of Phlomus russeliana. I will not cut these seed bearing stalks of pom poms until spring, and the whorls of leaves will hang on through the winter.

I spy the hips of Rosa ‘Dortmund’ through the stalks of Joe Pye. Have any of you made culinary use of hips?

I leave you with a peek at the last flowers holding on: Fuchsia ‘Golden Gate’. Where once there was a profusion, only a few intrepid die-hards remain. I love this season, how about you?

I once went to quite a bit of trouble to track down Claytonia seeds to plant in the garden. I finally found them from Nichols Garden Nursery, based in Salem, Oregon. They have just about anything you could want in the way of seeds. They grew quite satisfactorily, but the life cycle was very short, and in the end, I concluded, not really worth the effort involved. How much more fun, anyhow, to find it growing in the wild.

Also known as miner’s lettuce, it is…well…”cute” is the only word for it. Each longish stem supports a couple of levels of round, slightly cupped leaves with a topknot of little white flowers. I found it growing in profusion along the verge of the road I walk nearly every day. The few handfuls brought home had begun to go to seed, but that just added a tiny bit of crunch to what is otherwise a tender, delicate salad. I threw everything into a strainer to rinse, then tore the whole plant: stems, leaves flowers and seeds into bite-sized pieces (I hate that chi chi custom of leaving salad makings whole so that they whip you in the nose and drizzle dressing down your chin). This salad was all about freshness and delicacy, so I just used a light dressing of oil and champagne vinegar. It would be easy to overpower these greens. Over at Greenish Thumb, Wendy has a recipe for the perfect drink to accompany this salad…or most anything, come to think of it. Hint: it involves gin.

When I wrote about Janet’s sale a couple of years ago, I included photos of her garden, so this time around I thought I would take you on a tour of her immediate neighborhood.

Hers is a long-established neighborhood, shaded by many mature trees and landscaped yards. The architecture is varied, but largely camouflaged by flowers and greenery.

Strolling down the street takes one past a variety of styles. This is very close to the look I am aiming for along our entry drive.

Looking back along that same border.

I felt fortunate to be there at this dogwood tree’s peak of perfection.

A typical layout is a streetside border (no sidewalks) through which can be glimpsed an expanse of lawn, with the house beyond.

Once I had made my selections: a claret day lily, two monkshoods, a Syrinchium striatum, a fall aster and a Heliantum maximillianii, there was a lull in the buying frenzy. I had brought Janet a copy of BeBop Garden and we posted an “out to lunch” sign and headed to neighbor Mike Darcy’s place to take him a copy. Do you know about Mike? He has been the voice of gardening at 101 on the FM radio dial for years. Tune in on a Saturday morning at 9 am, and he can carry you through your weekend chores with garden talk, a call-in section if you have a burning question and, for instance, last Saturday’s fascinating interview with Richard Turner, editor emeritus of Pacific Horticulture magazine. Mike has a glorious mature garden which I would have loved to point my camera at, but we were in a rush to get back to the plant sale. Maybe another time. I can tell you that Mike’s newest preoccupation is a hive of bees, which he has discovered holds a fascination for his grandson. I didn’t get to see Nick in his own little beekeeper suit, but I have a mental picture and am told he is reading everything he can get his hands on regarding apiary pursuits. What a great, educational bonding experience.

Having a “native guide” is always an asset. Taking a shortcut back to Janet’s, we were able to take in this view. I will leave you with this image…no word required.

Restaurants feature them (part of the “eat local”, better yet “eat wild” movement), nutritionists tout them (a true super-food), our back woods is full of them. Yes, I speak of stinging nettles: the darlings of the spring culinary elite.

Ever one to dabble in the latest food craze (and never opposed to free food) I covered up, grabbed a basket and shears and headed into the woods. The abundance of plants in peak condition led me to cram my market basket with the pernicious delicacy.

While still in the woods, I spotted fiddleheads emerging from the many sword ferns and made a mental note to return for the makings of another esoteric kitchen experiment. Sadly, when I went back a couple of days later, the deer had nipped off each and every one.

On the way back to the house, I stopped by the vegetable plot, where a row of leeks was in need of thinning. I figured these would be good companions for the nettles.

Tongs had been recommended for handling, but I knew that, in addition to the tongs, this would be a hands-on experience. I broke out the surgical gloves. The stems and undersides of the leaves are covered with spiny hairs that release a devilish mix of histamine, serotonin and formic acid. By plunging the stems into boiling water for about a minute, that toxic brew is deactivated without undermining the health benefits of intense concentrations of protein, iron, vitamins and minerals. But how do they taste? Something like spinach with a little more of a mineral tang. The real difference is in the texture. There is an almost dangerous roughness on the tongue (I will admit: that may have something to do with the power of suggestion).

I had expected the raw material to cook down much more than it did. I wound up with plenty for experimentation. Dish 1: sauteed leeks and nettles layered with non-cook lasagna, bechamel sauce and three cheeses; grade ****. Dish 2: another lasagna using tomato sauce instead of the bechamel and adding sunflower seeds; grade **. Dish 3: simple scrambled eggs with the nettles stirred in and a light sprinkle of finishing salt; grade ****. My conclusion was that the simpler the dish, the more the subtle flavor of the nettles came through. And heavier gloves are needed for handling. I swished them around in cold water before using tongs to transfer them to the boiling water bath and could feel them stinging right through the surgical gloves. Not unbearable (anyone who cooks and/or gardens is used to minor injuries) but my fingers were still numb and tingly the next day.

Wendy, at Greenish Thumb has challenged us to cook up our gardens’ bounty and share. Go there to find good goodies.

The giant HPSO plant sale, renamed Hortlandia with a nod to the Peabody winning (WWTT) TV series ‘Portlandia’, which lifted its name from the sculpture on the Portland Building by Michael Graves (I know, I know…way more info than you need) has come and gone. Here is why I missed the first day: Saturday.

Our good friends Bob and Laurie are avid wind surfers. Since the Columbia River Gorge offers some of the best, they built a house in Mosier to be closer to the wind, the sun and the river. We have had a standing invitation to visit, and when that Saturday dawned bright and sunny, off we went.

If you have been following this blog at all, you know that I never met a rock that failed to capture my heart. The Gorge, then, is pure bliss. After visiting over snacks, we headed for Tom McCall Park, also known as Rowena Plateau, where many trails lead from the road to the cliff overlooking the river.

In the springtime, the main attraction is the parade of wildflowers strewn along the path. I made an effort to track down the names, with only moderate success. There is an informational board at the trailhead, but I was not equipped to take notes. Maybe next time.

Columbia desert parsley, or Lomatium columbialum

Later in the season, when the balsamroot comes along things get showy and bold, but now one must look closely to spot the dainty blossoms sprinkled here and there.

The hand is there to steady the ‘Grass Widow’ for the camera, but it also gives you an idea of scale.

Yellow Bells, or Fritillaria pudica

So that, my dears, is what kept me from the first day of ‘Hortlandia’. Next, I will fill you in on what led to my second day of truancy.

Wandering around on the east side of the river the other day, I came across this. The building was once one of those nondescript hunks of nothingness, contributing only negative vibes to the ambiance of the street.

A light remodel and spiffy colors brought the building into the 21st century,

But it is the landscaping that does the heavy lifting when it comes to the “Whoa! Look at that!” reaction. I should have taken a photo from the end to show the way the plantings of grasses and lavender are arranged in rows, with small deciduous trees spaced regularly throughout. I suspect they will be cutting things back soon. So glad to have happened upon it in all its billowing glory.

The undulating cement retaining wall and the rounded clumps of grass are a nice counterpoint to the straight lines of the building and the planting grid.

An alley runs between the building and its neighbor (you can see the neighboring building as a backdrop here). The planting strip there takes a more casual approach, utilizing the same plants, with a few additions, scattered more haphazardly along a dry creek bed of river stones. I will definitely be back to see it when the trees leaf out and the lavender blooms. I love the Calvin Klien-ish collection of neutrals, but when it changes into its new clothes I’m sure it will be a new kind of beautiful…and fragrant, too. If you want to see it for yourself, go to E Belmont, right across from the Grand Central Bowl.

As John Lennon warned “Life is what happens while we are making other plans”. Thus I did not make it to the Yard Garden & Patio Show as planned, but I can direct you to two outstanding bloggers who can show you and tell you all about it. Just visit Loree and/or Scott for a ringside seat with a dollop of editorializing.