Musings on Inspiration and Direction

Recently, I watched the first episode of Monty Don's American Gardens. First off, I love that he's come to this side of the pond to see the great diversity of gardens across the United States. We have such a dearth of good garden programs these days, and an overabundance of flashy weekend warrior "landscaping" programs that sadly encourage the concept of plants as static, decorative accents instead of portraying plants and gardens as the dynamic living organisms and communities that they are. One must wonder, though, how well American gardens can be represented in a mere 3 episodes. It's a very large country, after all, with a rather wide range of climates and people. I must admit I enjoyed his subtle, and not-so-subtle, digs at some of the gardens and Americans in general. The little moments of culture shock and incredulity as Monty dealt with some of these Americans was also entertaining. I've lived in this country all my life and still I don't fit in the stereotypical American culture, though I imagine I'd come across just as gratingly American as any other if I visited another country.
Simple, naturalistic, and peaceful. Very natural, in fact, as this is a natural stand of slough sedge in coastal woods, but it could easily be part of a garden.

Second, I greatly appreciate the sheer diversity of gardens he toured, even in the first episode, from warm and humble community gardens to flashy, boorish displays of wealth; from beautifully naturalistic to highly manicured. That diversity, more than any individual garden, is what the American garden is, to me. As I said, America is a very large and diverse country. It's no easy feat to see the range of gardens that exist here in six weeks, nor to represent them in three hours of television. From my descriptors, you may be able to guess which ones I favored. Though I liked others, as well, the gardens I enjoyed most were the naturalistic gardens of Edwina von Gal's house on Gardiners Bay, and James Golden's Federal Twist. Each was quite unique and quite different from the other, in approach, appearance, and purpose. Yet both were very naturalistic, casual and peaceful, resulting from the intimate conversation between the gardener, the plants, and the space they all occupied. Something James Golden said, if he will forgive my quoting him, summarized it quite nicely: "What I'm doing is very much responding to what I find in the garden, day to day." This, to me, is the key to a planting that transcends mere landscapes to be a true garden, regardless of style.


Lately I've been observing my current garden and thinking about my own garden philosophy, what I want my garden to be and do. Of course, gardens change, and so do people. When I started this garden, I wanted to experiment and test out as many different plants as possible. I also wanted to create a space for my parents to enjoy in their retirement. Sadly, between the overwhelming diversity of unfamiliar plants and the passing of my father, the garden has failed in its latter purpose. However, it has been an excellent learning experience. This garden has been a laboratory and classroom. I've gained a lot of knowledge about a great many plants, and I've further developed my understanding of the kind of gardener I am and the kind of garden I want.

The garden has a fair amount of repeating elements, but is also very diverse. Many times, it feels too chaotic to me, and visually cluttered. Larger swaths of some plants, and more repetition, would help to visually simplify it. This photo, of course, is one of the good angles. 

Seeing those two gardens further solidified the vision I've been moving towards, of what I want my garden to be. The more I garden, the more I value simplicity, preserving existing native plants, and those garden workhorses that so often thanklessly carry gardens through the seasons and years. I like the idea of simply using what is already present and modifying it where desired, as Edwina has done, simply removing invasive weeds and allowing most everything else to grow naturally with minimal intervention. I can't say I'd want to take quite such a casual approach, but it would greatly depend on the state of the property I found myself in, and the existing plants. Some places need more intervention than others, at least initially. In sharp contrast, James' garden was made, as most gardens are, with plants he brought in. It's less minimalist, more complex, more diverse, but there are still elements of working with existing plants instead of fighting them. I enjoyed hearing that he allows the horsetail to grow, instead of trying to battle it. I've tried to adopt a few "weeds" as garden allies, with mixed results. In both gardens, the plants blend into a cohesive whole. They look very different, but they share that quality, as well as a certain tranquility. They fit their respective places, seeming to belong.
I fell for this area at Alfred A. Loeb State Park. I would love to garden in a space like this, just adding a few plants here and there. Of course, stands of old-growth Oregon myrtle aren't typically available on the real estate market, and I sincerely hope it stays that way.
This combination of Polystichum munitum and Oxalis oregana doesn't really need anything else, though a few other specimens, like clumping bamboo, could be slipped in and look right at home and turn this natural plant community into a garden.

This idea, of a garden that blends into its surroundings, is something I aspire to. I don't feel I've done that particularly well here, though I also don't think it sticks out like a sore thumb. This has been a learning garden, a practice run. It's also quite young, and will look more settled and like it belongs more as it matures. I actually look forward to the idea of the palette simplifying as plants grow and mature, some plants needing removal or being pushed out as others grow, things dying out as the toughest survivors fill in the spaces left behind. I've always loved old gardens best, particularly woodland gardens. I love venerable old trees, full of character from years of growth, storms, and the vagaries of life. The plant palette has often been reduced due to things being shaded out and the gardener propagating the survivors and spreading them out in great swaths, while other plants weave through on their own to make serendipitous matrices. More and more, I want a simple garden that is shaped by the plants themselves as much as by my hand. The thing I enjoy most about gardening is simply observing plants. I like watching them grow and change on their own, reacting to those changes rather than trying to control them. I want a garden I can step back from and observe, rather than one I have to constantly manage. No, I'm not saying I want a maintenance-free garden. That's an absurd aspiration. Such a thing doesn't exist. Gardens are by definition, maintained and manipulated spaces. A wild space lacking any intentional human influence can be just as beautiful as a garden, if not more so, but it is not a garden. Going back to Edwina's garden, I almost have trouble seeing it as a garden, but she does manage it. It's a different concept of garden than we're used to thinking about. It's more like a park, or simply a rural private property, which it is. We don't tend to think of those as gardens, per se, but maybe they are.

A bit closer to home than Alfred A. Loeb State Park, Seaquest State Park is fairly similar to my own woods, just showing a few more decades of growth without disturbance from logging and other development. It's a beautiful place, and a good example of what our current property could be, with a bit more time and removal of invasives. It's not entirely lacking in human influence, since the path is kept clear, but it's close enough to wild. And yet, if this were private property and the owner added just 2 or 3 plants, native or not, intentionally, suddenly it could be called a garden, and a beautiful one at that.. Is that really all it takes?

At the Rhododendron Species Botanic Garden in Federal Way, a carpet of native Polystichum munitum covers the ground, as in the above photo, but this time under mature Rhododendrons, with bamboo in the background. It looks quite natural and fitting under the high canopy of native conifers, but it is very much a garden, not a natural area.

A simple garden with a limited palette of plants runs directly counter to my natural inclination to want to grow everything. It's a constant inner battle between the collector, who wants as many different plants as possible, and the pragmatic minimalist, who wants a peaceful space with time to enjoy it, rather than having to constantly expend time, energy, and other resources on it. In my current garden, I must admit the collector has won more often than not, though the minimalist has been gaining ground in the last couple years. These days, my "dream garden" is more often than not populated with simple plantings, sweeps and masses of a few plants in simple matrices, rather than a cornucopia of collectibles. You can create a great deal of textural interest with two or three different plants repeated together, and I've always loved playing with texture as much if not more than with colors. Building a solid base layer of a few plants repeated throughout gives a space a sense of cohesion. From there, you can add accents and embellishments, though a good base layer can also stand alone with just enough complexity to provide interest without being too busy. I've always been more interested in woody plants, so for me the ground layer is just there to block out weeds and provide additional textural interest. It could be as simple as a carpet of sword ferns and oxalis, maybe a few sedges. Personally, I fantasize about gardening in a natural woodland setting, filled primarily with naturally-occurring native plants, perhaps enhanced with more natives appropriate to the site, and embellished with a few exotic trees, shrubs, and bamboo worked into the native plants rather than carving out separate spaces for them. This could quickly morph into a horticultural menagerie, as the collector continues to add in "just a few more plants." If I'm lucky, I'll have enough property for a small "collector's area" near to the house, with simpler, more peaceful plantings everywhere else.

Clumping bamboo worked into the naturally-occurring plants at Tradewinds Bamboo in Gold Beach, OR. This is roughly what I would like to have someday. 

Time enough for musings on specific plants and their implementation in gardens later. Back to this idea of a more peaceful, minimal input garden that bows to nature more than it tries to control it, and what that means for me. I want to spend more time this year observing other gardens and especially natural plant communities. The former allows me to see what other people are doing with plants in their gardens, which is always interesting and inspiring in its own right. The latter increases my understanding of how different plants grow together in nature, so that I can better emulate that in my own garden. Getting out in nature also, more than anything, feeds my spirit. Both gardens and nature help give me my fix of plant diversity, which helps curb my cravings to grow everything myself. It also feeds those cravings, but I'm going to try to adjust my perspective to enjoy seeing those plants elsewhere rather than seeing them and wanting to possess them for myself. I'm also going to try not to stress about watering and weeding as much. The plants will grow in and crowd out the weeds in time. The goal is to get out and live more, and have my quiet, tranquil garden retreat awaiting me back home. Life is stressful enough, especially with my anxious personality. My garden should help to alleviate that stress, not add to it. Plants that need more care don't belong in my garden. Don't get me wrong. I applaud those dedicated gardening souls growing their exuberant, diverse collections, even the fussy ones that need a lot of pampering. I am a believer in the value of ex-situ conservation, growing plants outside their native habitat. We really need more coordination and better record-keeping to maximize that value, though. Plant societies are great for this purpose, as well as meeting new plant-loving friends. I just don't plan on growing anything too fussy myself, at least not outside. A handful of fusspots have made their way in among my large, mostly easy-care, houseplant collection.

A note on the blog: I had been falling into the trap of essentially making photo journal entries. Nothing wrong with that, but it's not what I had wanted this blog to be. It was always meant to be more focused on writing, exploring plants, gardens, techniques, and travels more in-depth. I'll be making an effort to produce more content of that nature, with fewer photos. Sometimes, the photos do have just as much value, though. I may have to figure something out to still include sufficient photos, sometimes, perhaps by actually keeping up with and organizing my photos on Flickr, and including links for specific trips or tours, where appropriate. You may have caught hints in this post, and you certainly will in future posts, that I am beginning the process of saying "farewell" to my current garden. I wish to move on to a new phase in life, and my mother simply won't be able to maintain it herself, so it will likely be sold in a few years time. I will, of course, be writing about that here and there. Mostly, I'll be discussing the lessons I've learned from this garden, the stumbling blocks and pitfalls, the joys, the plants both good and bad. It's a sad thing to say goodbye to a garden you've put so much into, but life, as in gardening, is all about change. I'll be preserving these memories and lessons for the next garden, and there will be a next, much improved from the lessons learned in the last. In the meantime, I'll be taking advantage of the freedom to see as many other gardens and wild landscapes as possible, being the close observer I've always been, and relate those observations and contemplations here.

Vaccinium ovatum and Struthiopteris (Blechnum) spicant in a garden on the Long Beach Peninsula in Washington state. The garden is highly manicured, yet utilizes existing natives amongst the many exotic plants, and looks right at home in its setting.




Comments

  1. Wonderfully written, Evan. I concur with you on nearly every point made. The more I garden, the simpler I wish it to be so as to enjoy it and not have it be a burden. I hope you find the perfect bit of land to garden on and that your next phase in life is fruitful and full of woodland wonders.

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  2. Interesting to read your speculations and aspirations. I found myself nodding my head in agreement with a lot of what you said. I did similar things when we first moved here from New England -- the explosion of new plants I could grow! Then too many died through my own inexperience at growing them or because they really were on the edge of their range, and I started paring things back. The second episode of Monty's American gardens series is up on YouTube now, it's set in the South and it seems to me there are a LOT of big, heavily manicured, formal gardens in it. I wasn't as captivated by them. Like you, I prefer the somewhat more wild, untamed-looking gardens. I'm looking forward to seeing what he thinks of the PNW. I know he at least came to Heronswood.

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    1. The South does have a lot of very manicured gardens. Pity he didn't make it to the more interesting ones. I know there are some very nice, more natural or at least more botanically interesting gardens in the South. I saw somewhere that he also went to Bloedel. The problem, as I see it, is that he mainly toured the Puget Sound area and found it to be very similar to the UK. The rest of the PNW is much less like England, too dry in summer.

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  3. Beautifully written post. Lots of food for thought. I'm very curious to see how your struggle between the collector and the pragmatist plays out. I, too, wish I could be more minimalist but right now the collector is still firmly in charge.

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    1. Thank you, Gerhard! Funny, I'm awfully curious to see how my struggle turns out, too.

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  4. I appreciate that you built this very thoughtful post on Monty Don's American garden visits. I'm two episodes in now and have really enjoyed the gardens he's visited and his reaction to them. I did not know the series was only three episodes long though. That is a disappointment.

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    1. Right? He spent six weeks here. Couldn't he have done at least one episode per week?

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  5. I appreciate this post on multiple levels, Evan, but first let me say I'm sorry to hear of your father's passing. Thank you for sharing information on Monty Don's shows - I knew he'd been filming in the US but hadn't heard the videos were available so I'll be queuing those up. As to your struggle between creating a natural landscape and collecting interesting plant specimens , that's a concern I share, although I'm MUCH further away from striking any kind of balance than you appear to be. In my own case, age may force the issue before I'm ready to simplify my surroundings. I hope you find the right balance for yourself.

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    1. Thank you, Kris. I don't know how close I really am to a balance. I'm starting to simplify now because I have to in order to move forward. At this point it's all just talk. I'm not yet walking the walk. One way to feed your collector while also maintaining some simplicity is to focus on certain groups of plants. For me, at least at the moment, I'm very interested in bamboo, ferns, sedges, and heaths/heathers. Groups like this can be similar enough to build visual cohesion and simplify care, yet give you many unique selections to collect.

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  6. Very much relate to the challenge of loving plants for the sake of plants but also quiet, cohesive natural spaces. Sometimes I think it would be best to confine my plant collecting to indoor plants and minimize the spillover outside. For better or worse, I live in suburbia, so this theory isn't going to be tested anytime soon.

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    1. I was thinking of that as I wrote this post, letting my indoor plant collecting run wild and keeping things more simple and natural outside. We'll see how that plays out.

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  7. My condolences on the loss of your father. Like other commenters I too appreciate your thoughts on creating a more natural simplistic garden style. It's hard to have the best of both worlds (maybe a little area for the collector in you). Your preference to this style might just be your tastes maturing. I have a very large garden so through necessity some of it has been allowed to naturalize to it's own devices. To my surprise I quite like what is happening. .

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    1. Large gardens do tend to require us to step back and bit more and let the plants do what they will. Some of my favorite combinations in the garden are the result of leaving plants to their own devices.

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  8. A beautiful post. I enjoyed it very much. Thank you.

    One garden I greatly admire in my neighborhood is: eight or so native live oaks, two Adirondack chairs, and a hummingbird feeder. The ground is a thick carpet of fallen oak leaves. I really admire that garden, but could it it be possible to pare a garden down to that level of simplicity, when part of the joy of plants is their amazing diversity?

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    1. This is my dilemma, as well. I struggle with defining that as a garden, yet I also greatly admire that kind of simplicity. That's why I think it's important that if you're going to have such a simple home garden, you need to get out more to view other gardens and wild places. Personally, I would want at least a simple mix of green ground covers under the trees. Not easy to find plants that can tolerate those conditions in your climate, I know, but there are a few.

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