A sight I'll never see again

I may have mentioned that on December 19, 2011, around nine o'clock in the morning, I walked over to my kitchen sink and looked out the window.  I froze. Standing there on the edge of the driveway was an eight point buck.  He was looking down at what I first thought was a big orange cat.  But, it was a red fox, right there beside him.  I was transfixed for a moment, unable to move.  Then I ran to the other room to get my camera.  Just as the fox turned around and started to move away, I caught them in a blur.  I wish I'd been faster.  Moments later, I was able to get a clear shot of each animal.  Still, that fuzzy picture recorded something I don't think I'll be seeing again.

Ditto the images in the above photograph, taken on January 15, 2012.  I went to the farm, and there by the front steps was this stalk of iris with multiple blooms.  I brought it home and watched each day as one flower faded and another opened up.

In the meantime, I picked bouquet after bouquet of daffodils.  You can see in the background that some had already faded.  The first flowers started blooming at the end of December.  Last year I took a picture of a bunch I'd picked on February 28.  In 2010, the daffodils were at their peak on March 10, according to another photograph.  The above iris was in bloom on April 14, 2011.  Plenty of bearded iris are re-bloomers, but they usually flower again in the fall, not in January.

We've had wacky warm spells before like this, though it's been a while.  I can remember one year when the peach growers didn't have enough cold to form crops. That was years ago.

We're all wondering what the rest of spring will be like.  I looked back to see about snowfall.  On March 1, 2009, it snowed, this after a hailstorm in February that pummeled the house at the farm causing a lot of damage.  In 2010, it snowed on January 8, February 2 and March 2.  Last year, on January 9, we had the big snow that then got rained on, making it impossible not only to drive, but to walk anywhere, as the sheet of ice that formed was so thick and slick.

So, it will be interesting to see what the spring will be like.  The prediction is for warmer than normal temperatures in February.  On Monday, I'll post a photograph I took last Saturday, January 28, of a very unusual and beautiful shrub/tree in full bloom.  In 2010, I photographed the same plant in full bloom on March 28, a pretty big difference.

A sight I'll never see again

I may have mentioned that on December 19, 2011, around nine o'clock in the morning, I walked over to my kitchen sink and looked out the window.  I froze. Standing there on the edge of the driveway was an eight point buck.  He was looking down at what I first thought was a big orange cat.  But, it was a red fox, right there beside him.  I was transfixed for a moment, unable to move.  Then I ran to the other room to get my camera.  Just as the fox turned around and started to move away, I caught them in a blur.  I wish I'd been faster.  Moments later, I was able to get a clear shot of each animal.  Still, that fuzzy picture recorded something I don't think I'll be seeing again.

Ditto the images in the above photograph, taken on January 15, 2012.  I went to the farm, and there by the front steps was this stalk of iris with multiple blooms.  I brought it home and watched each day as one flower faded and another opened up.

In the meantime, I picked bouquet after bouquet of daffodils.  You can see in the background that some had already faded.  The first flowers started blooming at the end of December.  Last year I took a picture of a bunch I'd picked on February 28.  In 2010, the daffodils were at their peak on March 10, according to another photograph.  The above iris was in bloom on April 14, 2011.  Plenty of bearded iris are re-bloomers, but they usually flower again in the fall, not in January.

We've had wacky warm spells before like this, though it's been a while.  I can remember one year when the peach growers didn't have enough cold to form crops. That was years ago.

We're all wondering what the rest of spring will be like.  I looked back to see about snowfall.  On March 1, 2009, it snowed, this after a hailstorm in February that pummeled the house at the farm causing a lot of damage.  In 2010, it snowed on January 8, February 2 and March 2.  Last year, on January 9, we had the big snow that then got rained on, making it impossible not only to drive, but to walk anywhere, as the sheet of ice that formed was so thick and slick.

So, it will be interesting to see what the spring will be like.  The prediction is for warmer than normal temperatures in February.  On Monday, I'll post a photograph I took last Saturday, January 28, of a very unusual and beautiful shrub/tree in full bloom.  In 2010, I photographed the same plant in full bloom on March 28, a pretty big difference.

An intriguing entrance

If all this is going on at the entrance of this garden, a first time visitor might wonder what on earth lies inside.  Yes, it gets even better.

I took this photograph on August 22, not a prime time for Atlanta gardens.  Yet, if you crop out the browning blooms of the Hydrangea paniculata that has been limbed up and hangs overhead, everything else looks pretty good, considering.

First, I have to comment on the stone columns.  They had just been completed maybe a week before I was there.  I've already had them copied by the same person who built them.  He obtained the exact stone and made entrance columns for the farm.  In the middle is an iron-looking gate (really aluminum painted black).  I must say it looks great.  I winced at the cost of doing this, but already the compliments have poured in.  Several people stopped by as he was building the columns and asked for his card.  The leftover stone is at my house in Atlanta, awaiting some magical cash that I hope will materialize soon.

Anyway, I would like two such columns at the entrance to my yet-to-be-planted pocket garden.  I'll probably go with an iron gate (I hope to find an old one), as it matches my house better.

But it's the plantings here that fascinate me.  There's a lot going on.  Confederate jasmine is trained on the wall of the house to the left.  Above that is Clematis armandii hanging down.  Cast iron plant, hostas, boxwood and autumn ferns are crammed in at ground level.  

On the other side I can make out 'Sky Pencil' holly, a standard of some sort, a couple of conifers (hard to discern here, but I have other views that show them), a scalloped bird bath, and an oakleaf hydrangea in the foreground.  

This is only a fraction of all the different plants here.  There's lots more jammed in on both the left and the right.  Behind the left hand column is a limbed up Camellia japonica.  And, so it goes when once you pass through the gate.

I won't be able to have all this.  You can imagine that this is a high maintenance garden.  The owner, who has designed and installed gardens for years, makes no bones about it.  There's constant pruning and clipping and shaping, and she likes it tour-worthy at any given time.  This is great for me, because I can call her on the spur of the moment and ask to come over, and there are never any excuses (i.e., there's nothing in bloom right now).  Sometimes, I'll go over and wander in, just if I need a little inspiration or even a pick-me-up.  There's always a wealth of ideas to consider, and I always see something I've never noticed before.

An intriguing entrance

If all this is going on at the entrance of this garden, a first time visitor might wonder what on earth lies inside.  Yes, it gets even better.

I took this photograph on August 22, not a prime time for Atlanta gardens.  Yet, if you crop out the browning blooms of the Hydrangea paniculata that has been limbed up and hangs overhead, everything else looks pretty good, considering.

First, I have to comment on the stone columns.  They had just been completed maybe a week before I was there.  I've already had them copied by the same person who built them.  He obtained the exact stone and made entrance columns for the farm.  In the middle is an iron-looking gate (really aluminum painted black).  I must say it looks great.  I winced at the cost of doing this, but already the compliments have poured in.  Several people stopped by as he was building the columns and asked for his card.  The leftover stone is at my house in Atlanta, awaiting some magical cash that I hope will materialize soon.

Anyway, I would like two such columns at the entrance to my yet-to-be-planted pocket garden.  I'll probably go with an iron gate (I hope to find an old one), as it matches my house better.

But it's the plantings here that fascinate me.  There's a lot going on.  Confederate jasmine is trained on the wall of the house to the left.  Above that is Clematis armandii hanging down.  Cast iron plant, hostas, boxwood and autumn ferns are crammed in at ground level.  

On the other side I can make out 'Sky Pencil' holly, a standard of some sort, a couple of conifers (hard to discern here, but I have other views that show them), a scalloped bird bath, and an oakleaf hydrangea in the foreground.  

This is only a fraction of all the different plants here.  There's lots more jammed in on both the left and the right.  Behind the left hand column is a limbed up Camellia japonica.  And, so it goes when once you pass through the gate.

I won't be able to have all this.  You can imagine that this is a high maintenance garden.  The owner, who has designed and installed gardens for years, makes no bones about it.  There's constant pruning and clipping and shaping, and she likes it tour-worthy at any given time.  This is great for me, because I can call her on the spur of the moment and ask to come over, and there are never any excuses (i.e., there's nothing in bloom right now).  Sometimes, I'll go over and wander in, just if I need a little inspiration or even a pick-me-up.  There's always a wealth of ideas to consider, and I always see something I've never noticed before.

Not afraid to fail

Next to my house, I have cleared out a formerly congested space to make a pocket garden.  I use the latter term because the area is small and contained on the sides by 1) a hemlock hedge  2) magnolia trees and 3) a hill that leads up to a paved terrace.  The entrance (not yet defined by anything) is slightly uphill and narrow.  I have timidly put in a few plants, but you'd think someone who has looked at hundreds of gardens would immediately envision what this garden should look like and be busily getting it installed.  Yet, I'm afraid that I will make a wrong decision; therefore, I make none.

So, to bolster my confidence, I've been looking at photos from Louise Poer's garden.  Here's someone who took a mud pit with only some builders' trees and has made a small but very complex Eden.  Granted, Louise has been a garden designer for years, but she came about it naturally.  She credits her ability to imagine a garden from having lived in England when she was a young bride.  Her aesthetic comes from taking ideas from both grand gardens and tiny cottage gardens alike.

But the real gift she has is not being afraid to experiment.  And, I must say, she's not timid about packing things in. "I don't like to see bare ground," she says.  She's constantly on the prowl for ground covers and comes up with clever ways to cut into her borders with smaller vignettes.  Even though her entire garden is not much larger than my dining room, kitchen and maybe part of a hallway, she's somehow rigged it to look much larger.  There's enough plant material in there for an estate.

Around my disorganized property, there are numerous boxwoods that have been waiting for years for a permanent home.  I could start right there by studying Louise's use of various types of boxwoods for structure and contrast (I have one variegated one that lives miserably under a water oak and hasn't grown an inch since I bought it). I also have two captive pyramids that have soldiered on in containers for over a decade.  I think they'll be so glad to make an escape.

I'll need a path, not only to access the garden, but as a way to organize the plants.  I won't be able to do any paving, but I have 4,000 cobblestones (this is a story for another day), and I could use some to make an outline for a gravel path.   I could do some cut-outs, like Louise does, so I can pack in even more plants.  My garden will be viewed from above, so I'll need some real strong lines to make it attractive.

I'm already feeling better.  Tomorrow, I'll show you an entrance to Louise's garden.  I already have the stone to copy the new columns she put in this year.

But, I just remembered.  My white tailed interlopers.  They've already gotten in there and laid waste to a hydrangea.  I think if I could pack in enough camellias and sasanquas around the edges to hide some sort of fence, I could keep the deer out.  That's crucial, because I want to copy one hosta combination (will show you that soon) in Louise's garden.   An unprotected hosta doesn't stand a chance.

Okay.  I'm going out there right now and make a drawing.  My heart is beating wildly, thinking of the possibilities.  The boxwoods should be moved now.  Plus, I need to act while I have the nerve, although I can always come back in and look at photos of Louise's garden if I lose confidence.  Wish me luck.

Not afraid to fail

Next to my house, I have cleared out a formerly congested space to make a pocket garden.  I use the latter term because the area is small and contained on the sides by 1) a hemlock hedge  2) magnolia trees and 3) a hill that leads up to a paved terrace.  The entrance (not yet defined by anything) is slightly uphill and narrow.  I have timidly put in a few plants, but you'd think someone who has looked at hundreds of gardens would immediately envision what this garden should look like and be busily getting it installed.  Yet, I'm afraid that I will make a wrong decision; therefore, I make none.

So, to bolster my confidence, I've been looking at photos from Louise Poer's garden.  Here's someone who took a mud pit with only some builders' trees and has made a small but very complex Eden.  Granted, Louise has been a garden designer for years, but she came about it naturally.  She credits her ability to imagine a garden from having lived in England when she was a young bride.  Her aesthetic comes from taking ideas from both grand gardens and tiny cottage gardens alike.

But the real gift she has is not being afraid to experiment.  And, I must say, she's not timid about packing things in. "I don't like to see bare ground," she says.  She's constantly on the prowl for ground covers and comes up with clever ways to cut into her borders with smaller vignettes.  Even though her entire garden is not much larger than my dining room, kitchen and maybe part of a hallway, she's somehow rigged it to look much larger.  There's enough plant material in there for an estate.

Around my disorganized property, there are numerous boxwoods that have been waiting for years for a permanent home.  I could start right there by studying Louise's use of various types of boxwoods for structure and contrast (I have one variegated one that lives miserably under a water oak and hasn't grown an inch since I bought it). I also have two captive pyramids that have soldiered on in containers for over a decade.  I think they'll be so glad to make an escape.

I'll need a path, not only to access the garden, but as a way to organize the plants.  I won't be able to do any paving, but I have 4,000 cobblestones (this is a story for another day), and I could use some to make an outline for a gravel path.   I could do some cut-outs, like Louise does, so I can pack in even more plants.  My garden will be viewed from above, so I'll need some real strong lines to make it attractive.

I'm already feeling better.  Tomorrow, I'll show you an entrance to Louise's garden.  I already have the stone to copy the new columns she put in this year.

But, I just remembered.  My white tailed interlopers.  They've already gotten in there and laid waste to a hydrangea.  I think if I could pack in enough camellias and sasanquas around the edges to hide some sort of fence, I could keep the deer out.  That's crucial, because I want to copy one hosta combination (will show you that soon) in Louise's garden.   An unprotected hosta doesn't stand a chance.

Okay.  I'm going out there right now and make a drawing.  My heart is beating wildly, thinking of the possibilities.  The boxwoods should be moved now.  Plus, I need to act while I have the nerve, although I can always come back in and look at photos of Louise's garden if I lose confidence.  Wish me luck.

Where to go, what to do?

I have a trip coming up at the end of June.  My dear friend from grammar school is touring Scandinavia with her husband and their friends.  Then, she's flying in from Copenhagen to join me at Charles de Gaulle airport.  From there, we're going somewhere for two days before we take an apartment on the Ile St. Louis in Paris where we'll stay a week.  I like being with Linda in Paris, because she goes her way, and I go mine.  However, we go off on a lot of adventures together, too, so it is the perfect set-up.

Since I want to see gardens, I'll probably take day trips from Paris.  Pictured above is a path at Giverny.  I will go there again, but I'll probably sign up for one of those day trips on a tourist bus to get there.  When my daughters and I went to Giverny in 2006, it was in May (I think towards the end of the month).  It was so crowded that it was almost unbearable (check over to the left of the photo to get an idea).  We ate a terrible meal with terrible service at a huge price at the restaurant there, so I won't do that again.  Also, the line to visit the garden took at least an hour.  I'm sure it's always crowded in summer, but it will be fun to see what's in bloom at another season.

One place I want to see is the Roseraie de l'Hay.  I'm hoping it will be a cool spring and the roses will hold off until I get there.  But, that will be a day trip, as it is just outside Paris.  (An aside here:  I was in Paris in the summer of 1968.  My friend from college was there because her father, who later became Secretary of State, was involved in negotiations to end the Vietnam War  - which obviously didn't work.  There was a terrible heat wave.  My other college friend and I had planned to take courses in Paris for the summer, but it was so hot, we jumped a train to Scandinavia where it was sleeting and proceeded to go all around Europe and to England, Wales and Ireland, ending up in St. Tropez.  I could write for days about that crazy trip, but suffice it to say, it can be blisteringly hot in Paris in June.  I hope this won't happen again and ruin the roses).

But back to the question of where to go for those two days.  I've rented cars and driven in France and Paris before, but I don't like driving when I have jet lag.  Getting on the Paris peripherique is a nightmare anytime, but I can't imagine tackling it if I haven't slept.  So, we could take the fast train somewhere, but where?  Of course, I have gardens on my mind, and I'll be making that the focus of the trip.  Linda is agreeable to the idea.

I've never been to Brittany, and there's a garden I'd like to see there.  The catch is that it is closed on weekdays.  Even if I could get them to make an exception, once we got there by train, we'd still have to rent a car.  Linda's never been to the Loire Valley, but that would also involve a car.  Biarritz is another place I haven't seen, and there's a fast train to Bordeaux, but I don't know.  That seems too hurried.

I do have a book given to me by a French friend that lists gardens that are open to the public.  I need to study that for ideas.  I will report later when we decide where to go and what to do.