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 Polystichummunitum 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 Polystichummunitum 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.

Vacciniumovatum 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.