A roof garden by the sea...

The elaborate roof garden of the club house...

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Just have to share this... we spent the weekend with friends, camping by the beautiful, rugged coast of northern Washington. Our kids were happily engaged in building huts out of the plentiful, silvery drift wood that fills the shoreline. When we parents almost started to feel completely neglegted, a proud delegation arrived and invited us to inspect their new club house, complete with a roof garden and a watering system made out of water-filled kelp bladders, as shown in the picture below. I guess there's no need to worry about the creativity of this "nintendo-generation"...

The watering system made out of water-filled kelp bladders; long stems of kelp drift up from the deep, cold waters of the northern Pacific ocean.

A cuppa in the garden: Cafe Koloni at Olle Nyman's atelier

Sitting in the shade of the old linden trees by Olle Nyman's atelier at Cafe Koloni in Saltsjö-Duvnäs.

I've always been a cafe person. I love sipping from a cup of steaming tea or coffee and observing passers-by, alternatively resting my eyes on something soothing and beautiful, like a stunning view or a flower-filled garden. Not many places can combine both, but Cafe Koloni is one of them, and that's why I keep going back there when in Stockholm.

*A gathering of houses; above, the cafe at the left and the house where Olle Nyman lived on the right. Below, the studio to the left, and Olle's atelier to the right.

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Situated in Saltsjö-Duvnäs some 8 kilometers from the city, Cafe Koloni is tucked away in a white-washed wing in a gathering of houses, an atelier and a studio that used to belong to the Swedish artist Olle Nyman. You can choose to sit either inside the building or in the adjoining herb garden, or further away in the old fruit orchard. If you choose your seat carefully, you can watch sailing boats glide by on the adjoining inlet of Duvnäsviken.

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Entrance to the veranda at Olle's house.

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Despite it has lost some of its initial "hidden gem" atmosphere, Koloni still is one of those rare places where you can sit surrounded by the graceful patina of the 18th and 19th century buildings, listening to the whisper of the old lindens. After your coffee, you can check out the annual exhibition in the studio; it always has a connection to either Olle Nyman or Saltsjö-Duvnäs, and even the name Koloni refers to Olle Nyman's time when he together with his artist friends filled the place with a buzz of creative activity. A place well worth a little day trip, especially for those with artistic ambitions... whether they are gardeners or not.

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On the balcony, an undated painting by Olle Nyman. It shows a couple on one of the buildings at the Koloni towards the inlet of Duvnäsviken; one of my favorite paintings of his in all its simplicity...

Bredablick revisited

The entrance flower bed as seen from the house towards the drive way. The round stone on the left is a pebble from the nearby beach.

No, I'm absolutely not comparing my house and garden to Brideshead in any way... nor was Bredablick, my garden, after our two years of absence in such a horribly gloomy condition as Brideshead was when Charles Ryder unexpectedly returned there as head of his brigade.

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Lower part of the same flower bed as above...

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When arriving in Sweden, I first felt quite uneasy to see my garden and house called Bredablick, "the wide view", named so after the lot of land where they are situated. Having had such an intimate relationship with my garden - cutting back, clearing, weeding, mulching, planting, always with soil under my fingernails - I was full of anguish to see how much had survived a break of two years and three summers. Of course, I've had someone to do the basic maintenance, but as anyone who has ever gardened knows, a garden must be loved, not just maintained.

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And still another view of the same area, with an old apple tree in the front.

To my great relief, many plants had survived, even if there were casualties: my shady flower border was almost gone, with only some ferns and a couple of Lilium martagons and Astrantias persisting in front of the huge, old lilac hedge. I chose them not only because of their lovely looks, but also because they are supposed to be highly tolerant towards both shade and neglegt, but I guess they too have their limits. In my entrance flowerbeds some plants had thrived and some not. Sadly, the hollies (Ilex meserveae 'Blue Prince') that I had planted in a bout of "hardiness zone optimism" had shed almost all of their leaves, so I had to cut them back to a height of only one feet. I hope that they grow back before we return (which should be in about two years time...), but until then, what was supposed to be a a dark, glossy green fond behind the perennials in these highly visible entrance flowerbeds, consists now only of a bunch of meager sticks with a couple leaves sprouting from them.

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The front lawn, where I usually grow islands of daisies and other meadow flowers...The large buxus was planted in the 1930s and the small babies by me for a couple of years ago.

Otherwise the Hostas were thriving and should have been divided, an impossible task given the hot, dry weather while we were in Sweden. Many of the peonies had grown fatter, and all lady's mantles, Alchemillas, were having a ball, spreading happily into all flowerbeds and self-seeding all over the gravel drive together with the Geraniums. I was hoping to have time to transplant even some of them to better positions, but our days in Sweden disappeared quicker than it took the glistening sprinkles of water from our garden hoses to be absorbed by the needy, parched soil...

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Bredablick, part of the "wide view"... Limestone paving and a lavender hedge to the left.

And there I was, happily toiling in my garden again, not noticing as time flew past. I was secretly feeling a bit ashamed of that I don't feel like this in my garden in Seattle, despite all its abundance and possibilities... And then, in Robert Pogue Harrison's thought-provoking book Gardens - An Essay on the Human Condition I found a passage that describes what I hadn't been able to formulate:

A garden that comes into being through one's own labor and tending efforts is very different from the fantastical gardens where things preexist spontaneously, offering themselves gratuitously for enjoyment. (...)
Unlike earthly paradises, human-made gardens that are bought into and
maintained in being by cultivation retain a signature of the human agency to which they owe their existence.

Deck for outdoor dining behind the house.

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Somewhere between the lines above, there might be the reason for my inability (at least not yet)to get attached to my Seattle garden: it was designed and planted by someone else, and despite all my pottering around, I have not really been creating anything of my "own". Maybe, creating and taking care of a garden is what is needed for being able to truly appreciate and enjoy it and its beauty. At Bredablick, I started with an overgrown, weed filled jungle and worked hard to leave my mark and make it into a garden. Despite my absence and the fact that it still is very much a work in progress (or isn't a garden always just that...), I feel that it still carries "a signature of my human agency"... and maybe that is why I continue to love it so much.

The sun coming up behind the nearby islands, all wrapped in early morning mist.

PS - thank you, Farmor for all help with getting the garden at Bredablick back in shape.

Bloedel Reserve revisited

The Reflection Pool, like a mirrow showing the surrounding forest and a changing sky above.

I've been enjoying house guests from Sweden for the last two weeks, thereof the silence on my blog. Seattle showed its best side during these last, warm days of summer. We even managed to spend a day on the beach, swimming and eating our dinner under a glowing sunset over lake Washington.

Eager to share my favourites here, I managed to drag my friend to some of the treasures of the Pacific Northwest. A trip to Bloedel Reserve (see my previous post here with more details), had a top priority on my list. There is something very special about this graceful garden, opening amongst the lush, wild nature of Bainbridge Island. This was my third visit within six months, and I never grow tired of wandering through its winding paths, enjoying its calm spirit. Only a true appreciation and love for nature can produce such a dignified combination of garden design and wilderness as can be experienced at the Bloedel Reserve.

I took some new pictures, in another weather and another season. As somebody said, a garden is never the same; the light is never the same, the clouds are never the same, and the plants are always changing. Just like we and life itself...
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A path through the meadow cleans the senses before wandering further into the forest and garden. The Robinia pseudoacacia 'Friesia' acts like a exlamation mark against the dark forest.

After the dark forest, a man made pond reflects the sky and the well-tended gardens around the house.

The view behind the house (that can be seen from the inside too, but photography is not allowed there).

A closer look at the grass bank against the sea...

The Japanese guest house, with a beautifully raked gravel garden.

Cornus kousa, Korean dogwood, full of red, warty-looking fruit.

The moss garden, thankful for some rain after a long, hot summer.

Beautiful, evergreen deer ferns (Blechnum spicant) in the moss garden.

The Bloedel Reserve is on Bainbridge Island Washington, and it is blessed by the mild, moist climate of Puget Sound. About 84 acres are second growth forest, and the remainder are altered landscapes, including various gardens, ponds and meadows. The Reserve was once the home of the Bloedel Family, which is primarily responsible for its growth and development. The vision of the Bloedels is now interpreted and extended by the Arbor Fund.

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Dan Hinkley's garden at Windcliff

The gardens and view to the sea at Windcliff.

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Saturday, September 5th, was a day for a special treat; the Northwest Horticultural Society arranged a tour to Daniel Hinkley's garden, which is located at Windcliff in Indianola, a short ferry ride out from Edmonds near Seattle. The tour had booked out very early, but due to a cancellation, I luckily got in at the last minute.

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Garden pond surrounded by lush plantings.

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Rosa mutabilis in full bloom.

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Daniel Hinkley is one of the great living persons within botany and horticulture not only here in North America but also internationally (he was actually the first person within gardening that I knew from this area, mainly through articles by him and about him in Gardens Illustrated). He is a modern day plant explorer, vivid writer, interesting lecturer, talented plant breeder and nurseryman. Heronswood, his legendary nursery devoted to rare plants in Kingston near Seattle was a mecca for gardeners (it is now sold further). Reading his biography can make anyone short of breath; such accomplishments can only been made by a person with inexhaustible energy and commitment, and of course, deep love to one's cause, which in his case is plants of all kind.

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A beautifully crafted fire pit and a detail of the stonework.

Windcliff was planted by Daniel and his partner Robert Jones mainly after 2005, and it is amazing to see how it has matured only in four years. Robert, who is a former architect, mentioned that they had no special plan for the garden, but it had evolved through an intuitive process of planting what felt right for the place. Of course, Daniel being no ordinary gardener, the results are just stunning. The site has a breathtaking view towards Mount Rainier and Seattle city skyline and the garden lingers towards the sea through organic mounds of plantings and small intimate paths where you can touch the plants and they can happily answer your greetings.

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Plantings around the house.

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Windcliff is, naturally, a plantsman's garden with many rarities and specialities, but there is none of the often cluttered effect connected with many of those gardens. The overall feeling of this completely contemporary garden is so exquisite and harmonious that it makes you admire the aesthetic talent that was needed to create it. Many skillfully made details, art and handicraft, witness also about Daniel's and Robert's love for all things good and beautiful in life.

Daniel (in brown t-shirt) talking with the visiting garden people.

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It was lovely to see Daniel answering all questions with a friendly smile and a great interest and letting us to his garden despite the obvious risks of almost 100 persons wandering through this private haven. I felt like I didn't only get to see a gorgeous garden, but also got a glimpse of a person who has lived his life well, true to his passion and calling, concentrating his powers on the things he loves, and who is ready to share the results with those who are interested. "Rather than obscurity, rarity, or breathtaking beauty, the quality that I find most appealing in a plant is possession of a unique character", said Daniel in his book The Explorer's Garden (1999). At Windcliff, Daniel and Robert have definitely succeeded in creating a garden with rarely seen, breathtaking beauty and a unique character.

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Roy Lancaster and his wife Sue were also at Windcliff during this tour, and I had a chance to have a wonderful chat with this world renowned plantsman and author about the plants in northern Scandinavia and Nordkap, that Roy had visited some years ago. Roy is giving the Elisabeth Carey Miller annual memorial lecture in Seattle next week (09/17/09), speaking on "Mad About Plants--A Plantsman's Garden". Don't miss this fantastic possibility to get to listen to this legendary plantsman if you are near Seattle.

Back home

Gum trees (Eucalyptus sp.) towering over the rolling hills of Marin County, north of San Francisco.

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Late yesterday, we arrived home from a trip to San Francisco and coastal California. It was my first trip to this part of the United States, and despite having heard of it countless times, it was still surprising to see how much it reminds of South Eastern Australia. The hills rolling down to the sea, the sun-parched nature and the arid flora of California made me quite homesick for Melbourne (can one be homesick for a place one was not born in…?), feeling like being almost there, but still thousands of miles away. I grew quite tired of myself repeating the mantra “…just like in Australia” over and over; what does it matter, when both places are so amazingly beautiful?

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Australian plants at the San Francisco Botanical Garden in the Golden Gate Park.

It was lovely to see gum trees (Eucalyptus sp.) cover both parkland and forests, feel their scent and listen to the rattle of their tough, leathery leaves. Many of them were huge and old, certainly over 100 years, their bark and leaves shedding off and covering large areas around them. I read that they were introduced in California around the 1850’s, sold by nurseries for both ornamental and practical purposes as firewood and hardwood for building. They look so well-adapted that it is difficult to imagine the landscape without them. Unfortunately, being extremely easy to catch fire, they have increased the forest fire danger in California, which together with Victoria tops the bush fire statistics of the world.

Landscape with Eucalyptus trees, also in Marin County.

Another acquaintance from my time Australia, the Monterey cypress (Cupressus macrocarpa), was actually native to the Monterey and Carmel area where we were staying for a while. In Australia it was often planted by seaside roads, so now the trees form a strong visual accent in their environment; I especially think about the road leading to Apollo Bay by the Great Ocean Road, one of my favorite places in Victoria... I love the sculptural, dramatic form of Monterey cypresses; unfortunately, it has a bad habit of loosing its branches and dying suddenly, just when it gets to its most mature and beautiful stage. All these visual and botanical ties; plants travelling afar, connecting different countries and places…

Australian Kangaroo paw, Anigozanthos flavidus, thrives even in California.

Now, I am sorting out the over 500 photos I took during our trip; tomorrow I’ll hopefully be writing about the garden related highlights, which include the new Californian Academy of Sciences with its much photographed and published grass roof, the stately but intimate estate of Filoli and the mid-century modern Sunset Garden.

An ultimate haven... my favourite garden

A copy of the 16th century statue of Mercury (Hermes) by Giambologna, looking at the sea over the cliffs of Källskär.

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I sometimes get the question of which garden that I have visited I have liked the most and I always have found this a very difficult question to answer; an old-fashioned cottage garden can just as wonderful, even if in a different way, as a magnificent palace garden, an avant garde modern garden or a spiritual Japanese one... It all depends on the feelings the garden is able to awake. But yesterday, while shuffling some old photo albums on the bookshelves, I randomly opened one of them and flipped through the holiday photos in it dating from 1994, from a sailing trip with my parents in the archipelago of Åland in South-Western Finland. Looking at them, I think I found the answer to this puzzling question; for despite having visited so many beautiful, serene, bountiful and/or impressing gardens, the garden in Källskär near Kökar represents for me the garden as an ultimate haven; a perfect escape, a shelter from storms and an improbable dream that became true.

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Källskärskannan

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The little island of Källskär is mostly known for its natural beauty, the special stone formations and flowing cliffs shaved smooth by the ice age and the sea. Particularly well-known is a stone pillar called "Källskärskannan", "the pot or jug of Källskär", named after its rounded form. The natural meadows were used as summer pasture for sheep until 1958, when Baron Göran Åkerhielm from Sweden sailed in and fell in love with the island. During the following years, he built a low log house between the huge cliffs, and started to build a garden with the help of sheltering stone walls. The people from the surrounding islands like Kökar, always called him "the Count" and helped him to carry soil to the barren island, and for several years, the young people were employed by him to help with the garden. He used sculpture as a contrast and complement to the wild surroundings of the garden, and he loved especially Rhododendrons and roses, getting them to thrive in this harsh and remote environment. In 1983, "The Count" donated his summer residence and garden to the county of Åland, and since then it has been used as a retreat for guest artists and cultural persons, one of the most famous of whom was Tove Jansson, the author of the Moomin books.

A stone path to the log house.

The main house of "The Count", who's real name and title was Baron Göran Åkerhielm.

Källskär is open to the public but visiting it is quite an adventure; the sea around is shallow and full of stones. My father has always loved sailing, and has taken us to most islands in the Archipelago of Turku and Åland, but if you are not an experienced sailor or/and boatman, it is best to travel there with a fishing boat from Kökar that traffics the island daily between June 25 and August 7.

Unfortunately, my holiday pictures were not of a very good quality and when I took them, I was still at the stage where somebody has to be standing in the middle of the picture, smiling. So the only picture here that is taken by me is the first one with the statue of Mercury, which I scanned in. Fortunately, I found some wonderful photos at FlickR taken by Daniel Frigo and Megan and Murray McMillan. Copyright is theirs, even if I have loaned their pictures here; please visit the links above for more beautiful pictures from Källskär and Kökar.

The floating gardens of Seattle

Houseboats are something I usually connect with Amsterdam, but they actually are a distinctive part of Seattle too. Some of us might remember them as a background scenery in the romantic comedy "Sleepless of Seattle", where Tom Hanks portrayed a lovesick father looking for a new mother for his only son. Or was it the son looking for new partner for his father? Anyway, some of the earliest houseboats were constructed already in the 1880s by mill workers on the West Coast, but by the early 1900s many of there were converted into weekend cottages, suitable for recreation by the lakes in the summer time. By 1920s there was about 2500 houseboats in Seattle, since then the popularity has somewhat declined. Some time ago, I bought Caroline T. Swolpe's book "Classic Houses of Seattle. High Style to Vernacular, 1870-1950" to learn more about the early housing styles here, and found some interesting pictures of these early houseboats, small houses complete with porches and Victorian scrollwork.

Even today, there are several houseboat communities by the lakes in Seattle. I walked by one of these at the Western shore of Lake Union, and despite the signs of "no trespassing", I could not help slipping down to the piers and taking some photos. The houseboat owners here seemed to be very garden orientated; there did not seem to be much that you cannot grow on a houseboat. Tall grasses, topiary, bamboo... all of them in pots and containers, gently swaying with the waves. I really felt my bohemian side calling me, telling me to leave the present bourgeoisie life and to settle down on one of these cute dwellings... I could almost see me sipping tea and growing vegetables by the lake, taking a tour with my kayak before sitting down to write that hugely successful book. I wonder if the reality of a houseboat dweller is as romantic as I imagine?