Saturday, January 28, 2012

What I wish today...

... is blue skies, and spring.
Soft, new grass under my toes, and the smell of swelling buds of any colour or sort. I'm not too picky, even dandelions would do today. Just a couple of weeks to go...
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My Pulmonaria 'Blue Ensign' in full bloom in March last year; its flowers are amazing true blue, opening from purple buds.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Scented spirit lifters for the chilly season


Winter jasmine, Jasminum nudiflorum - a bit worn down by the ice storm, but still spreading its sunny fragrance in the cold. 

Despite being lucky with not loosing power or having any other accidents due the snow and ice storms last week, I do feel a bit worn down by the weather... so to cheer me up, I decided to write a list of my favorite plants for the dark, chilly season.

I love scented plants, which shows in my list below. If choosing between two otherwise equally suited plants for a situation, I almost always pick the fragrant one of them. With their perfume, scented plants add dimension by offering pleasure for one more of our senses. Often, they conjure memories and feelings from days past. Sometimes, scents can be healing, like the heady, fresh smell of lavenders that has scientifically been proved to be calming (one of my favorites...). I mostly think of flowers when considering scented plants, but of course even whole plants can be aromatic, from the tiny herbs we use for cooking to the huge cedars and firs of the northern hemisphere and towering Eucalyptus trees of the southern.

Luckily, the gardening year of the Pacific Northwest is never without something fragrant in season, even if the leaden skies and slushy snow of mid winter can otherwise be quite oppressing to one's mood. As a remedy, here are some of my favorite, scented "spirit lifters" for the season, all amazing plants to be included in any garden at the colder latitudes. 

Winter honeysuckle, Lonicera standishii from China, has the same kind of fresh honey scent as its summer flowering relatives.
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Have I worn down you with my witch-hazels yet? Hamamelis x intermedia 'Winter beauty' is gently lemon scented with deep apricot glow.
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Sarcococcas have such modest, little flowers, but their perfume carries far with the winter winds. They flower from December to February, and are excellent near entrances with their fragrance and glossy evergreen leaves.


The delicate scent of snowdrops... do I need to say more?
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Viburnum x bodnantense 'Dawn'; I love it in theory, but in practice its pink flowers often become mottled with brown after the slightest touch of snow, which always looks dull. Their heady perfume lingers around from the darkest November to late February.
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Many cyclamen are slightly scented, but you need to go down on your knees to detect it. Lovely combination here with the cinnamon bark of a Stewartia monadelpha.
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The waxy flowers of Chimonanthus praecox have a strong, spicy scent that reminds me of some of the Actaeas. Describing scents is such an undeveloped area, the only tool available seems to be comparing them to something that is more well-known... 
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Daphnes are well-known for their highly scented winter flowers, but they are sensitive to cold and snow. Mine have turned yellow after the ice storm and will probably loose their leaves in the coming weeks. Luckily, they usually recover, but look pretty shaggy until the new leaves develop.

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Friday, January 20, 2012

An icy emergency

Everything over here is covered with a layer of ice, including these stunning beautyberries in my neighbour's garden...

Our Pacific Northwest corner of the world has been pretty much paralyzed by a snowstorm that started two days ago and transformed into an ice storm today. The situation is quite serious and the Governor of Washington State has actually declared emergency; hundreds of thousands are without power and the temperatures are freezing. The power line repairs are expected to take at least a couple of days, which makes things hard for many families. Our family has been very lucky, with no other damage than a couple of broken Magnolia branches in our front yard.

Schools have been closed for two days now, and we don't expect them to open tomorrow either, so we have spent our days sledding and building snowmen. Also, we've been shaking off the heavy snow from the branches of our marginally hardy Magnolia gradifloras. They can actually take the cold, but their branches are brittle and the first to break when snow gathers on their generously large, evergreen leaves. I don't think they are suited to this climate, but as there are five large young trees in our front yard, the only thing is to try to prevent this from happening. The snow is still falling, so their leaves become coated soon again after they are shaken free.

I feel guilty admitting that I love snow and that think it is very pretty out there, when I know so many are freezing in their homes that will get only colder and darker as the evening falls. I hope the repair crews get their work done fast so everybody will be warm and safe again soon... 
  

Friday, January 13, 2012

Bewitched, once more...

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Winter beauty' glows in warm, tangerine tones...

I do realize that I use the word "favorite" all too often in connection to plants. I guess I just can't help it. So here I am again, telling you that witch-hazels are one of my absolute favorite shrubs. Not only do I find their delicate blooms that send out their spidery petals in the middle of the darkest winter completely enchanting, but I also love their lemony scent that fills the air and greets one long before the flowers can be seen. Unfortunately there is no way to convey their spicy fragrance to you, but at least I can provide some snapshots from my walk in the Washington Park Arboretum in Seattle this morning. Absolutely spellbinding plants, if you ask me. Don't miss them, if you are anywhere nearby.

Hamamelis mollis, a wild witch-hazel species from China.

A scented canopy of starry flowers - Hamamelis mollis.

The lighter tones of Hamamelis mollis 'Pallida'.

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Orange beauty', one of my favorites... oh, did I just say it again?

 Pathways of the Witt Winter Garden.

Hamamelia x intermedia 'Jelena' , with rusty red flowers hiding amidst last year's leaves.

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Hiltingbury' can't decide if it should keep to orange or to pink tones...

Petals of Hamamelis x intermedia 'Ruby glow' are delicately edged with creamy white.

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Diane' has burgundy buds that get a apricot glow when they open up.

A pathway winding under a canopy of fragrant witch-hazel flowers.

My other posts about witch-hazels:

Saturday, January 7, 2012

The season of pure bliss


It is the first week of January and the first snowdrops are coming out. And I'm not embarrassed to tell once more just how much I love these little guys, the first harbingers of spring to peek up from the soil. Kneeling down in the cool, wet soil to get the best angle of their nodding petals might seem an odd delight, but for a plant deprived January gardener, it surely is one of the fastest ways to bliss...

A family of Galanthus elwesii greeting the pale January sun.

Friday, January 6, 2012

About the amazing journey of the monkeypuzzle...


Today, I'm quite proud to tell that my third article here in the US just came out. In it I dove into the history of monkeypuzzles as garden plants. And what a journey it was - from a dinner table in Chile where its seeds were served as a dessert to Captain Vancouver's expedition (they had been up in the Pacific Northwest trying to find the Nortwest Passage), via Victorian England where it fast became a trophy plant for the rich, and then back to North America where gardeners took after most trends popular in England.

Today, these architectural, prickly conifers are seldom planted in gardens. But their delicious, large seeds remind of giant pine nuts, and as "edibles" are today included in all parts of a garden from flowerbeds to meadows, monkeypuzzles might be heading towards a renaissance...

Read the whole article at the Arboretum Foundation website. Also, see some great pictures in my previous post about monkeypuzzles.

Sunday, January 1, 2012

On a New Year's Eve...


To live is so startling,
it leaves little time for anything else.

- Emily Dickinson -

I hope 2012 brings you a great gardening year!

Friday, November 18, 2011

A late season visit to Lan Su Chinese Garden in Portland

The Painted Boat in Misty Rain pavilion. 'Boat hall pavilions' were used to express one's desire for secluded life. Fishermen in traditional Chinese culture were closely associated with hermits, and therefore boats became symbols for reclusive life. 

The Lan Su Chinese Garden in Portland that has often been said to be the best Chinese garden in North America. It definitely stood up for its reputation when I visited last weekend. Despite the leaden skies and bone-chilling cold, I was smitten. A beautifully executed scholar's garden, the Lan Su Garden's latticed pavilions and covered walkways were connected by arching bridges that formed a sophisticated whole with the miniature lakes and ponds, sculptural stones, carefully selected plants and signs with poetic inscriptions.  

All aforementioned - architecture, water, stone, plants and literary inscriptions - formed the five main elements of a Chinese scholar's garden, and all of them conveyed meanings that invited the learned owners and visitors to endless contemplation about nature, culture and life itself. In addition to their intellectual dimension, Chinese private gardens were always a place for enjoyment of life; their covered walkways and other spaces provided perfect setting for strolling around, sitting in shade, playing chess and for calligraphy and painting. And that is why I find them so attractive and surprisingly 'modern'; they were created for outdoor living just like our contemporary gardens, only the pastimes of the upperclass of the  imperial Chinese society were far more sophisticated than our backyard barbeques, pool parties and trampoline bouncing. 

Countless books and studies are dedicated to the four thousand year old gardening tradition of China, so my attempt to describe some of the basic principles in my post about the Dr. Sun Yat-Sen garden in Vancouver is only a tiny scratch on the surface. Still, if you have time, please take a peek as both Lan Su and Dr. Sun Yat-Sen gardens were built in style of the Suzhou gardens in China so famous for their beauty. Only ten years apart in age, some experts and artisans from Suzhou worked on both gardens on this side of the Pacific.
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As I also mentioned in my post about the Dr. Sun Yat-Sen garden, it is remarkable how few Chinese gardens there are around the world despite their huge influence on the garden art in both Asia and Europe. We are lucky to have so many on the Pacific coast of North America - in Vancouver, Seattle, Portland and San Marino in California - but otherwise they are few and far between. But with China's growing power and visibility on the world scene, there might be an increasing interest for its culture and gardens, too. I definitely hope so.
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Courtyard of Tranquility, formed after 14th to 16th century private gardens for the wealthy in Suzhou, China. The Crabapple blossom doorway is formed after the Lion Grove Garden in Suzhou; the inscription above says 'Entering a wonder'. Gardens were a peaceful and inspiring escape of the daily life, and a traditional Chinese garden consisted (and still consist) of several areas of different sizes and functions, connected by openings that revealed borrowed, scenic views.

Entrance to The Hall of Brocade Clouds, where the imaginary family of this garden would have entertained their guests. Gardens formed an entiry with the house in China. Both were important means to show off the wealth of the family, so much thought and labor was put in creating them. Here, elaborate latticed glass walls protect visitors from heat in summer and winds in winter. 

Interior from the Hall of Brocade Clouds. In Chinese, a hall is called a 'tingtang', and it was the lavishly decorated major architectural and visual element of the garden; large gardens could have several of them. Here, Chrysanthemums, a favorite flower in China, are displayed on the table. As one of the 'Four Honorable Plants' - plum, orchid, chrysanthemum and bamboo -  it was revered and associated with autumn.

 Glossy, almost ripe Persimmon fruit that in Chinese medicine is thought to regulate Qi, believed to be the life force in all things.
 
Querqus dentata pinnatifida, a rare oak from China, Korea and Japan with large, serrated leaves. The Lan Su Garden has included a large amount of Chinese plants into the design, which is not typical for Chinese gardens in general. They usually contain only a restricted palette of plants, all carefully chosen to provide beauty, color, texture and fragrance, and for their cultural significance. The most commonly used ones are peonies, azaleas, bamboo, pines, Prunus mume, camellias, osmanthus, bananas and lotus. Given the extraordinary richness of the flora of China, this seems controversial, but gardens there were built to convey carefully contemplated meaning and not to be botanical showcases.  

"Most cherished in this mundane world is a place without traffic; truly in the midst of a city there can be mountain and forest" - Wen Zhengming (1470-1559). How well-suited for this view; in the middle of the city, the Hall of Brocade Clouds opens to the terrace and central lake.
 
 Decorative latticed windows frame views of the greenery outside the pavilions.
 
The teahouse, called Tower of Cosmic reflections. In Chinese garden two-or-more story buildings were used to relieve the sense of isolation created by substantial walls. Also, the women of the family could view the garden and the surrounding city from these higher buildings.

Artificial hills and water are essential parts of Chinese gardens, symbolizing in miniature form the mountains and waterways of China. Also, water adds sounds to a garden and diverts attention from the busy city life around.
 
The Scholar's Study; this is where the men of the family studied for civil service examinations which would ensure the family's prosperity. Also, they practiced calligraphy, read and entertained fellow scholars here.

The elaborate doors leading to the study; it provided an excellent opportunity to display one's wealth to colleagues and other visitors.

Detail of the paving in front of the Study; this pattern is poetically called 'Plum blossoms on cracked ice'.
  
View towards the 'Knowing the fish' pavilion.

View towards the lounge house, used for music gatherings, mah jong games and painting.
 
View from the 'Knowing the fish' pavilion towards the lounge house and a Lake Tai rock representing a mountain top.

Under the eaves of the Hall of Brocade Clouds, decorated with Chrysanthemums to celebrate the season.

A door opening with banana leaf form; bananas were often planted under the eaves to amplify the sound of water dropping down from the roof. Such attention to details ...

A winding pathway behind the "Painted Boat in Misty Rain' pavilion.

A moon gate leads out from the Scholar's courtyard. In the opening, small Penjing can be seen;  bonsai, like many other elements in the Japanese garden art, were inspired by these miniature trees that replicate natural landscapes.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

A crowded stroll through Portland Japanese Garden

View from the Moon Bridge towards the Strolling Pond Garden.

Last Friday was Veterans Day, so my family and I decided to celebrate the long weekend with a road trip to Oregon, a state that has so far avoided our radar despite its many great gardens and good coffee houses. The first stop on our agenda was the Portland Japanese Garden, but already on the gate we were met by a uninterrupted train of Portlanders. A free entrance to celebrate the holiday and an interesting exhibition of antique Japanese textiles meant that instead of enjoying a serene stroll through the gardens, we had to queue through them, repeating a polite "excuse me" when accidentally bumping to other gardens lovers at every turn. Understandably, our experience of the otherwise lovely gardens was anything but zen.

The upper pond in the Strolling Pond Garden.

Waterfall running through the mossy stones to the lower, small pond.

Leaves and needles finding their way past mossy stones - a perfect miniature landscape.

A bit irritated by all busyness, I photographed my way through the gardens desperately trying to find angles without pink or yellow raincoats as unintended focus points. Only afterwards I realized that the crowd was just what I should have photographed. I mean, how many gardens are so well loved that hundreds of visitors from babies to centenarians gather there to spend their precious day off? Not many, but this one definately belongs to them. I missed  my opportunity to tell that story, but here is a selection of my very deceptively empty garden pictures. 


The Sand and Stone Garden; the leaves add movement to the otherwise static landscape... 


The Sand and Stone Garden as seen from the upper level; the Japanese gardens are nestled on the deep western hills of the city of Portland.

The Flat Garden as seen from the Pavillion, which is used for exhibitions; this time, we saw "Mottainai", a beautifully touching exhibition of antique textiles from rural Japan.


The Flat Garden from another view point; this must have been the last weekend to see all the blazing autumn colors before the leaves fall.