Little things can inspire big dreams

You would probably think I'm crazy if you knew how many times I've studied the very simple scene in this photograph.  An old door with faded paint and worn iron hinges.  Stone that looks haphazardly grouted by some mason long ago.  Flowers that may or may not have been planted on purpose.

I don't know how many times I've wondered how the French grow things that seem to come from only a crack where the sidewalk meets the wall.  Of all the photographs I took on a 2006 visit to Giverny, it's this one that I keep coming back to.  In fact, I was so inspired that I came up with a crazy idea that seemed to make sense at the time.

You'll remember that in May 2006, we didn't know the growing danger looming in the housing market.  I don't know how many developers had contacted me, even before my mother died in 2007, about buying her farm and turning it into a subdivision (never, ever would my brother and I have let this happen to this beautiful land).  One even tried to tell me that if she sold it to him, there would be no capital gains taxes to pay, even though my parents had bought the 151 acres in 1957.  I should have had him arrested.

Anyway, I saw the little village next to Giverny, and I thought, how wonderful it would be to build some stone houses out of old materials and have all the occupants be gardeners.  On my little rural street (which would be situated on the abandoned runway my daddy built on the farm in 1960), the houses would have slate or tile roofs, and we'd all have walled-in plots for flowers and maybe a few cabbages and herbs.  Further away, there'd be a large space for vegetable gardening and an orchard where little blue star flowers would come up in the grass in spring.  I can't tell you how many nights I lay awake planning this little street that would look nothing like any other subdivision.  It wouldn't look like a street in a movie set either, and all the materials would be old and put together properly.

Well, thank goodness I didn't have the gumption to do any of this.  When the crash came, I'd have gone down in flames, or perhaps in a pile of stone.

Still, I dream of a cottage (I have stacks of cut granite from an old lodge sitting all along my driveway, plus 4,000 cobblestones piled up at the farm - another story for another time).  I'd have gravel  or simple pavement going right up to the walls, and then you'd see a little mass of flowers like above.  All very simple and somehow old.  A climbing rose would ramble up the corner of the house, and a little side yard would be overflowing with flowers.  On the south wall would be espaliered apple trees.

Okay.  Time to wake up and face reality.  But that's the way with the love of flowers and ancient stone and old wood and such.  One can always dream and imagine, and, even though time is passing quickly, it's not out of the realm of possibility that some of it might come true one of these days.

Little things can inspire big dreams

You would probably think I'm crazy if you knew how many times I've studied the very simple scene in this photograph.  An old door with faded paint and worn iron hinges.  Stone that looks haphazardly grouted by some mason long ago.  Flowers that may or may not have been planted on purpose.

I don't know how many times I've wondered how the French grow things that seem to come from only a crack where the sidewalk meets the wall.  Of all the photographs I took on a 2006 visit to Giverny, it's this one that I keep coming back to.  In fact, I was so inspired that I came up with a crazy idea that seemed to make sense at the time.

You'll remember that in May 2006, we didn't know the growing danger looming in the housing market.  I don't know how many developers had contacted me, even before my mother died in 2007, about buying her farm and turning it into a subdivision (never, ever would my brother and I have let this happen to this beautiful land).  One even tried to tell me that if she sold it to him, there would be no capital gains taxes to pay, even though my parents had bought the 151 acres in 1957.  I should have had him arrested.

Anyway, I saw the little village next to Giverny, and I thought, how wonderful it would be to build some stone houses out of old materials and have all the occupants be gardeners.  On my little rural street (which would be situated on the abandoned runway my daddy built on the farm in 1960), the houses would have slate or tile roofs, and we'd all have walled-in plots for flowers and maybe a few cabbages and herbs.  Further away, there'd be a large space for vegetable gardening and an orchard where little blue star flowers would come up in the grass in spring.  I can't tell you how many nights I lay awake planning this little street that would look nothing like any other subdivision.  It wouldn't look like a street in a movie set either, and all the materials would be old and put together properly.

Well, thank goodness I didn't have the gumption to do any of this.  When the crash came, I'd have gone down in flames, or perhaps in a pile of stone.

Still, I dream of a cottage (I have stacks of cut granite from an old lodge sitting all along my driveway, plus 4,000 cobblestones piled up at the farm - another story for another time).  I'd have gravel  or simple pavement going right up to the walls, and then you'd see a little mass of flowers like above.  All very simple and somehow old.  A climbing rose would ramble up the corner of the house, and a little side yard would be overflowing with flowers.  On the south wall would be espaliered apple trees.

Okay.  Time to wake up and face reality.  But that's the way with the love of flowers and ancient stone and old wood and such.  One can always dream and imagine, and, even though time is passing quickly, it's not out of the realm of possibility that some of it might come true one of these days.

Learning from Lyndy

Several readers reminded me that Lyndy Broder's garden was featured on an episode of A Gardener's Diary on HGTV.  I meant to include this fact in yesterday's post, but there was so much to say about Lyndy and how she has made such a big garden in such a short time that I forgot to mention the show.

The above photograph was actually taken in Anna Davis' garden when it was on the Atlanta Botanical Garden's Gardens for Connoisseurs on Mother's Day a few years ago (note: the first flush of roses will be over this year on that weekend, due to high temperatures in April and May.)

Still, this image is a good example of how beautifully clematis combine with other flowers.  Here, Anna has trained Clematis florida var. sieboldiana with a single pink rose.

Back to Lyndy.  The first time I ever saw the above clematis was on the cover of a Wayside Gardens catalog at least 20 years ago.  I was entranced.  I also made an assumption that this was a native species, thinking of Cornus florida.  I should have known better.   I obviously wasn't thinking, since "sieboldiana" or "sieboldii" referred to the German Philipp Franz von Siebold, who, as far as I know, never stepped foot in Florida.  This clematis originated in China and came to Europe via Japan.  Lyndy straightened me out on this.  I also did the same thing with Clematis montana for years, thinking that this was a clematis native to the state of Montana.  I blame all this on Clematis texensis, which really is from Texas.  That's my story, and I'm sticking to it, however embarrassing.

Anyway, Lyndy had a spectacular cultivar of C. florida called 'Vienetta'.  It had a pom pom center that was even more impressive than the species.  My photos were dark, though, so I'm going to have to work on them to see if I can lighten them up.  By the time we got around to this 150th clematis, the sun was bearing down hard, and I lowered the light too much.

Lyndy also has some great clematis combinations in her garden.  One of my favorites was the light blue 'Arabella' coming up through the pink version of evening primrose.  There's just no end to what effects can be had with clematis.  One of my favorites ever was Margaret Moseley's C. jackmanii threading up through a purple smoke tree.  At Lyndy's, I still think of the pure white, old fashioned French clematis 'Huldine' having as its background the lacy branches of Pseudolarix amabilis.  A splendid combination.

Learning from Lyndy

Several readers reminded me that Lyndy Broder's garden was featured on an episode of A Gardener's Diary on HGTV.  I meant to include this fact in yesterday's post, but there was so much to say about Lyndy and how she has made such a big garden in such a short time that I forgot to mention the show.

The above photograph was actually taken in Anna Davis' garden when it was on the Atlanta Botanical Garden's Gardens for Connoisseurs on Mother's Day a few years ago (note: the first flush of roses will be over this year on that weekend, due to high temperatures in April and May.)

Still, this image is a good example of how beautifully clematis combine with other flowers.  Here, Anna has trained Clematis florida var. sieboldiana with a single pink rose.

Back to Lyndy.  The first time I ever saw the above clematis was on the cover of a Wayside Gardens catalog at least 20 years ago.  I was entranced.  I also made an assumption that this was a native species, thinking of Cornus florida.  I should have known better.   I obviously wasn't thinking, since "sieboldiana" or "sieboldii" referred to the German Philipp Franz von Siebold, who, as far as I know, never stepped foot in Florida.  This clematis originated in China and came to Europe via Japan.  Lyndy straightened me out on this.  I also did the same thing with Clematis montana for years, thinking that this was a clematis native to the state of Montana.  I blame all this on Clematis texensis, which really is from Texas.  That's my story, and I'm sticking to it, however embarrassing.

Anyway, Lyndy had a spectacular cultivar of C. florida called 'Vienetta'.  It had a pom pom center that was even more impressive than the species.  My photos were dark, though, so I'm going to have to work on them to see if I can lighten them up.  By the time we got around to this 150th clematis, the sun was bearing down hard, and I lowered the light too much.

Lyndy also has some great clematis combinations in her garden.  One of my favorites was the light blue 'Arabella' coming up through the pink version of evening primrose.  There's just no end to what effects can be had with clematis.  One of my favorites ever was Margaret Moseley's C. jackmanii threading up through a purple smoke tree.  At Lyndy's, I still think of the pure white, old fashioned French clematis 'Huldine' having as its background the lacy branches of Pseudolarix amabilis.  A splendid combination.

Lyndy and the queen of climbers

When I left Lyndy Broder's incredible garden the other day, I had 158 new photographs and about six new chigger bites (when I was growing up, my brother used to get them, and I would sort of gloat that I never did; now I'm being punished; they love me and find a way to get to me even though I am always covered up).

But back to Lyndy.  I found her laying sod all by herself, cutting the edges to make large curving swaths throughout her expansive back garden.  This might not seem so extraordinary until you see the size of the garden and learn that she has planted every tree, shrub, vine, perennial and bulb on the three acres she's cultivated.  There are thousands of specimen plants, many very rare.  Going through her garden is like visiting a botanical garden.  I can't think of many plants she doesn't have.  There's something in bloom all year long.

Lyndy started her garden after a full time career in community mental health and raising four children.  In 1997 she finally retired from her job; in 1998 she completed the Master Gardener's course, and "the obsession began".  She quickly became one of the Atlanta region's most knowledgeable gardeners and began assembling a huge collection of plants.

Although I took photographs of various blooming shrubs and climbing roses and a rare tree I'd seen only once before, most of my attention was concentrated on Lyndy's famous clematis collection, which she has been amassing in recent years.  Lyndy is active in the International Clematis Society and has traveled all over the world to study this "Queen of Climbers".  I was there to catch the large-flowering types, which scramble up through shrubs or cover tuteurs or grow at the base of trees.  It was like being in a candy store.  You'd look at one and think it was the most beautiful flower you'd ever seen, only to move a few feet and find one just as phenomenal.

In addition to visiting gardens and nurseries in Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Europe, England, Ireland and Japan, Lyndy's pursuit of clematis has taken her to places like Finland and Estonia seeking out hybridizers.  One of her most memorable trips was to Poland where she met the late Brother Stefan Franczak, a Jesuit monk who began hybridizing clematis in the 1960's and introduced some of the world's most beautiful clematis.

"He was so humble," says Lyndy.  "Just imagine, for years, no one knew of him.  All that time, he was quietly hybridizing clematis behind the Iron Curtain."

Lyndy is partial to blue clematis, although she has every color ranging from stunning reds to deep purples to pure whites. Choosing a photograph to feature was difficult.  I wanted to show every one she had.  The above cultivar, 'Yaichi', was hybridized in Japan.  I loved Lyndy's favorite 'Arabella', which weaves through beds all over the garden with charming, light blue flowers.  I also was taken with Brother Stefan's nearly black 'Syrena' and the velvety bright red, 'Bourbon' (great for patio containers, according to Lyndy), from the famed clematis hybridizer from the Isle of Guernsey, Raymond Evison.  And then there was 'Rhapsody', an intense blue beauty from England, and on and on.

Down the road, I'll post more of Lyndy's clematis.  She also has many species clematis, some of them from the U.S.  In the meantime, to see many of the clematis Lyndy grows, go to gardenvines.com, Brushwood Nursery's Web site.  

Lyndy and the queen of climbers

When I left Lyndy Broder's incredible garden the other day, I had 158 new photographs and about six new chigger bites (when I was growing up, my brother used to get them, and I would sort of gloat that I never did; now I'm being punished; they love me and find a way to get to me even though I am always covered up).

But back to Lyndy.  I found her laying sod all by herself, cutting the edges to make large curving swaths throughout her expansive back garden.  This might not seem so extraordinary until you see the size of the garden and learn that she has planted every tree, shrub, vine, perennial and bulb on the three acres she's cultivated.  There are thousands of specimen plants, many very rare.  Going through her garden is like visiting a botanical garden.  I can't think of many plants she doesn't have.  There's something in bloom all year long.

Lyndy started her garden after a full time career in community mental health and raising four children.  In 1997 she finally retired from her job; in 1998 she completed the Master Gardener's course, and "the obsession began".  She quickly became one of the Atlanta region's most knowledgeable gardeners and began assembling a huge collection of plants.

Although I took photographs of various blooming shrubs and climbing roses and a rare tree I'd seen only once before, most of my attention was concentrated on Lyndy's famous clematis collection, which she has been amassing in recent years.  Lyndy is active in the International Clematis Society and has traveled all over the world to study this "Queen of Climbers".  I was there to catch the large-flowering types, which scramble up through shrubs or cover tuteurs or grow at the base of trees.  It was like being in a candy store.  You'd look at one and think it was the most beautiful flower you'd ever seen, only to move a few feet and find one just as phenomenal.

In addition to visiting gardens and nurseries in Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Europe, England, Ireland and Japan, Lyndy's pursuit of clematis has taken her to places like Finland and Estonia seeking out hybridizers.  One of her most memorable trips was to Poland where she met the late Brother Stefan Franczak, a Jesuit monk who began hybridizing clematis in the 1960's and introduced some of the world's most beautiful clematis.

"He was so humble," says Lyndy.  "Just imagine, for years, no one knew of him.  All that time, he was quietly hybridizing clematis behind the Iron Curtain."

Lyndy is partial to blue clematis, although she has every color ranging from stunning reds to deep purples to pure whites. Choosing a photograph to feature was difficult.  I wanted to show every one she had.  The above cultivar, 'Yaichi', was hybridized in Japan.  I loved Lyndy's favorite 'Arabella', which weaves through beds all over the garden with charming, light blue flowers.  I also was taken with Brother Stefan's nearly black 'Syrena' and the velvety bright red, 'Bourbon' (great for patio containers, according to Lyndy), from the famed clematis hybridizer from the Isle of Guernsey, Raymond Evison.  And then there was 'Rhapsody', an intense blue beauty from England, and on and on.

Down the road, I'll post more of Lyndy's clematis.  She also has many species clematis, some of them from the U.S.  In the meantime, to see many of the clematis Lyndy grows, go to gardenvines.com, Brushwood Nursery's Web site.  

...like a red, red rose - but which one?

Okay.  Here is a close-up of a rose in Diana Mendes' Atlanta garden.  I am hoping someone will be able to identify it.  Here's the description:  These big, bright red velvety flowers occur on a short (maybe two and a half feet tall, at most) plant.  The habit is compact; the leaves are dark green and glossy and exceedingly trouble-free.

The rose blooms heavily in May and sporadically during the summer.  In fall, when the weather cools, the shrub puts on another flush of blooms.  Diana doesn't spray, so this particular rose is pretty much immune to blackspot and also to pests, as the foliage stays healthy all season long.

Diana visits a lot of nurseries and buys what she likes.  Although she knows many of her roses by name, she doesn't remember what this one is.  This is understandable when you see the sheer number of plants in her garden at any given time.  When one flower fades, another comes into bloom.  How she packs so much into a small space (her deep borders surround a patch of lawn), I don't know.  She does say she deadheads and cuts back plants after bloom, and that certainly helps with the next season's show.