Spotting ladybugs

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Euphorbias are now in full bloom, showing off their large trusses of chartreuse flowers inside the similarly coloured bracts, containing glistening drops of honey. Yesterday, I found this little guy having a sweet drink in the evening sun. The British and Australians call these kids traditional favourites for ladybirds, the Americans call them ladybugs, which is kind of cute too. Ladybird sounds a bit more romantic to me; I can't imagine that Lady Bird Johnson, a First Lady of the US in the 1960's would have called herself Lady Bug Johnson either...

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Sadly, many foreign species of ladybirds, like the seven dotted ladybird (Coccinella septempunctata) so common in Europe, and the Asian lady beetle above (Harmonia axyridies) have either been introduced in North-America or arrived by hitch-hiking with ships. For a long time, they've been considered as useful insects as they feed of aphids and other scale insects; the first alien lady beetle species was introduced already in the 1880s to try to combat the Cottony cushion scale in California. To this date, more than 170 lady beetle species have been introduced to North America. But in reality, these foreign invaders are now outcompeting native beetles, and altering the fauna in North America, just like introduced species tend to do. So in fact, in the picture above, instead of musing over a sweet little ladybird or ladybug, we are looking at a biological control agent wreacking havoc in the ecosystem...

To help the native nine spotted ladybug and other native ladybugs scientists need to have detailed information on which species are still out there and how many individuals are around. To do this, the entomologists at Cornell University launched the Lost Ladybug Project, where everybody can join in spotting these little creatures. So if you feel like making a difference in an easy way, look for ladybugs and send Cornell pictures of them on email. This is a great summer science project for children and adults, just check out the pages above for loads of information and fun things - in addition to getting to help ladybugs, all "spotters" get their photos and names published on the project pages.

Happy, with tired feet

The view over Times Square from our hotel room...

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We had a quick but intensive long weekend in New York during the Easter break; everyone was exhausted by the end of each day. My youngest daughter (she's six) was not so sure she fully approved of NY city (too much smog, too much traffic and too many people) whereas the older one (now eight) thought it was cool (“Hey we can go to Broadway every night …”). I'm somewhere in between; I love the amazing energy of it all, but at the same time, I feel a bit claustrophobic without seeing any "real" soil and nature around me... NYC really is such an inspiring but demanding environment for a human being, both physically and mentally. I don't think I would be able to live there full time though; I would miss the bird song far too much.

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The Bethesda Fountain by the richly-ornamented Bethesda Terrace in front of the Lake in Central Park. It's sculpture, Angel of Waters, was designed by Emma Stebbins in 1873. The Boat House in the background.

Anyhow, we were very lucky with the weather and had some great play times in Central Park. The girls patted just about every dog that walked by, and they were many. I missed one of my objectives, to photograph the MoMA Sculpture Garden (the mother of all modern sculpture gardens, as John Walsh said), as I forgot my camera (!) that day and had to be content with just sitting there enjoying the sculptures in the sunshine. It really is such an amazing "garden"; with it's straight lines and rectangular forms, it visually connects so perfectly with the environment surrounding it. Anything else (like meandering lines and curving paths) would have felt like a joke in this extreme landscape of skyscrapers, stone and steel - you need the scale and size of Central Park to make a contrast to this huge city successfully. And happily, I got to see the MET exhibition with Pierre Bonnard's late interiors; his vibrant colours put me into a trance every time, I've never seen one single book or picture that can reproduce them correctly...

Closed between bird cherries and lilacs...

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I'm heading off for a little spring holiday with my family. Really, I would be as happy staying here, lying under a tree looking at it's newly unfolded leaves and musing over the wonder of spring.

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There is an old Swedish story about a shoemaker, who always hanged a sign on his door this time of the year, saying: "Stängt mellan hägg och syren"; "Closed between (the blooming of) bird cherries and lilacs".

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Hänryckningens tid, as they sometimes call spring in Sweden... a time of being filled with wonder and enchantment. The old shoemaker understood this so well, sitting in his garden and enjoying life waking up around him after a long and cold winter. Now, I don't have any bird cherries or lilacs, but the horse chestnuts look lusciously green and azaleas are coming out so I'll be content with that, even if they don't have any scent...

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The Parker-Ferson Residence revisited

Isn't it amazing to see how a residential area changes in just one hundred years?

The black and white picture is from 1913, showing the Parker-Ferson residence on the right. It is a large Neoclassical Revival house built 1909, just South from the Volunteer Park Water Tower in Capitol Hill. I took the second one yesterday, between the security bars at the top of the Water Tower. It is interesting to see how this beautifully green area with wonderful old trees was so bare just a hundred years ago; the temperate climate of Pacific Northwest really does to amazing things with plants here. Just look at the Douglas fir saplings at the bottom of the first, old picture: it is one of them, now almost hiding the large house from sight.

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First picture from Classic Houses of Seattle - High Style to Vernacular by Caroline T. Swolpe (2005), from Museum of History and Industry, Pemco Webster and Stevens Collection. Note the horse looking at the house in the lower right corner - compared with all the cars in the second...

Almost wordless Wednesday

And who did say that pink and yellow don't go together? The cherries are in full bloom, and it is pure bliss to my eyes...
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A sophisticated choice

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"I think that a planting near the house or round the terrace should be bold and, for want of a better word, sophisticated: so I usually exclude plants which really require a wilder setting such as heaths and brooms and, indeed all kinds of rock plants. For the same reason shrubs and trees should have character in their form, their foliage or their flower to gain a place where they will be seen all through the year. Magnolias, for instance, always look right. I do not know a variety which is not distinguished-looking at any time."

- Russel Page, The Education of a Gardener, 1962 -

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The Education of a Gardener in one of my most loved gardening books. I found my copy, a second edition from 1983, at the Avenue Book Store in Albert Park in 1999, and it has been on my bedside table since then. Russel Page's language is like the magnolias, always elegant and distinguished. Page constantly emphasizes that simple unity, aptness and mood of relaxation should be a gardener's aims, and where possible, gardens should take their cue from the surrounding context and landscape. He's reflections on garden design, plants and the surrounding landscape are born from several decades of thinking and working with gardens, and at the same time they are fresh and modern. Every now and then I pick up my dog-eared copy and read a couple of pages randomly, always feeling like I hear his voice through the pages.

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The magnolias are starting to flower here in Seattle. A bit late, but the cold winter seems not to have damaged the flowers. First out are Magnolia kobus and M. stellata, two of the hardiest varieties, which I think are in their wild simplicity some of the most beautiful magnolias. I am longing for a garden in which to plant these beauties and hopefully be staying long enough to enjoy the results.

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The Bloedel Reserve on Bainbridge Island

I have often sat flipping through my book "1001 Gardens You Must See Before You Die" (edited by Rae Spencer-Jones, 2007) looking for inspiration for garden trips. Now, I don't take this or any other guide book too seriously; coming from a small country, I know how easily real pearls of gardening are totally ignored even by seasoned, foreign garden editors. And how much can you trust a writer who misses both Norrvikens Trädgårdar and Göteborg Botanical Gardens in Sweden, and finds only one garden, Villa Mairea, to write about in whole Finland? Anyhow, the Bloedel Reserve has a well-deserved place in this guide. Last Saturday, despite a cold and rainy weather, our little family headed for the Bainbridge Island, thirty minutes ferry trip from Seattle. And truly, we were very well rewarded for our efforts as this garden proved to be one of those magical places you really would not want to miss if ever given an opportunity to visit them.

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The Bloedel Reserve started as Collinswood, a retreat for the Collins family in the early 20th century, and the main house in French chateau style by Seattle architect J. Lister Holmes was built in the middle of the Great Depression in 1931. As this property came to market in 1950, Mrs Bloedel was very attracted to the house, while Mr Bloedel was very impressed by the woods and nature of the place, and so Collinswood was sold to Prentice and Virginia Bloedel together with the surrounding 60 acres. 49 years old, Mr Bloedel had just retired from his lumber business and ready to pursue other tasks in his life. The Bloedel Reserve became a work of garden art accomplished over 35 years by the Bloedels. It is a series of designed experiences interacting with the surrounding wilderness, following Mr Bloedel's vision that the Reserve should be an example of man working harmoniously with nature and where his power is used cautiously and wisely.

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My girls shivering in the rain, a bit doubtful about mom's ideas of good ways to spend weekends...

The walk around the Reserve starts with a long meadow and old barns that used to house Mrs Bloedel's sheep. This quite large and essentially empty area works like a cleansing of the senses after arriving to the Reserve. The Reserve is very careful about preserving the landscape's quietness and reserves spaces only for a limited number of visitors at scheduled intervals, which I find very attractive as this gives the visitor a possibility to experience the site like it was before it became a public garden.

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The pathway circles from the barns past large, moss-covered trees and native shrubs to a bird refuge, where trumpeter swans paddle around together with ducks and other birds. This area was designed to give the birds a natural habitat providing them food and shelter.

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After the bird refuge, the path continues through the wilderness, arriving via a trestle bridge to a Japanese influenced boardwalk past cedars, firs and hemlock trees. The boardwalk gives a possibility to view closely the surrounding wetlands, containing a large planting of skunk cabbages (Lysichiton americanus) and even a few carnivorous pitcher plants. I was quite overwhelmed by the strong scent of the skunk cabbages, which is actually quite pleasant despite the name. Last time I had smelled this scent was when I was five and living in Northern British Columbia, and now I could instantly remember it even before seeing the sulphur yellow flowers. I felt very nostalgic telling to my girls how I picked these with my older sister pretending they were rabbit's ears when I was small...

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After the wilderness, the track suddenly merges with the driveway to the house, with a large expanse of lawn and a beautiful pond in front of it. The white French style house forms the focal point of this view and only when coming close to it, you notice that it actually is quite small in scale, an intimate family retreat in classical style placed in the middle of the Pacific Northwest forests. The main rooms of the house open to a magnificent view of the Puget Sound, with an eagle's nest fully in sight from the backside terrace, as it is situated quite high above the sea level.

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At the North side of the house, there is a man made waterfall (from 1954) with a small lookout terrace, then the track continues through the ravine planted with rhododendrons, viburnums and skimmias. Native oxalis, also called sorrel (Oxalis oregana) forms large mats as a groundcover. A bit later, salal (Gaultheria shallon, a leather-leaved native to Western North America, covers the ground from which Himalayan birches (Betula jaquemontii) raise their ghostly white, slender trunks. Most of the perennials were still just tiny shoots, but I imagine this part of the track will be quite magical when in full flower.

The Japanese garden surrounds a tea house, style wise a hybrid between a Japanese tea house and a Pacific Northwest Indian longhouse, designed in 1964 by Seattle architect Paul Hayden Kirk. A Japanese stroll garden behind the tea house of the Reserve was built in 1960-61 by Fujitaro Kubota, a nursery owner and garden designer from Seattle, also known for the Kubota Gardens. The stone garden is a later addition, designed by Koichi Kawana and built in 1986. It is a meditative garden, meant to involve the viewer to interpret the setting and to imagine features appropriate to him/herself. Somehow, the tea house was a bit too large for true intimacy and felt more like an official meeting place, but I thought it would be lovely to sit here with good friends, discussing this wonderful garden with a cup of tea in our hands.

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The moss garden was created in 1982 and forms a large area cleaned from most other vegetation than moss, huckleberries, some ferns and skunk cabbages. This was an idea of Richard Haag, then the Reserve's landscape architect, and Richard Brown, who was the Reserve's executive director at that time. To create the moss cover, some 2200 plants of Irish moss (Sagina subulata) were brought here and divided in small plugs which were planted. I was surprised to read this, as the whole surrounding forest is covered in luxurious mats of moss, but indeed, despite the "natural look", the whole area is planted. I loved this part of the Reserve, it felt so calm, understated and elegant. Somehow, even birdsong sounded softer, and I could just imagine small trolls and fairies gathering together here in the dusk.

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The last "experience" is the Reflective Garden, with a large, rectangular pool enclosed with a high, clipped yew hedge. This strong but simplistic feature was one of the Bloedels' favourites, and they had carefully considered several different approached before settling for this design, partly together with their friend, landscape architect Thomas Church. The reflective garden is like a man made frame to the beauty of nature that is always reflected on the calm, dark surface of the pool. It is like a living painting, always new and different depending on the time of the day, light, and weather. The remains of the Bloedels were placed in this garden at their request, and I can understand their wish to be one with their beloved garden. As Prentice Bloedel is quoted to have often said, "the nature does not need us to survive, but we need nature in order to connect with a sense of creation." The Bloedel Reserve is a magnificent testament to two nature and garden loving persons, with an understanding and appreciation for the uniqueness for their beautiful surroundings.

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Spring in primary colours

Isn't this an amazing hedge? It is like a blast of sunshine, right on your face. It is such an unusual thing to plant (well, at least in my experience), a bold move that demands your attention, shouting "look at me - the spring is here!". I walk past this hedge quite often and hadn't even thought about it earlier, but when in flower, how could you not notice it?

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Don't get me wrong, I really like the unusual Forsythia hedge, but I couldn't help wondering if they chose the colour after the fire hydrant at the other end of it... or maybe the school buses driving past the house every morning? Or the yellow lines on the road or the yellow cabs... all these things shouting for your attention. Yellow is a colour that evokes feelings, in a different way that for example white or light blue, which are so much more neutral. As I asked my clients for their colour preferences for their gardens in Sweden, many of them answered that yellow was not to be considered at all, they did not like the colour as it was so unstylish. Funnily, the Swedish flag is blue and yellow, and the same people happily decorated their cakes with these colours while celebrating birthdays and exams. And I've myself often thought that the Australian colours of green and yellow are so ill-looking, especially then applied to the uniforms worn at the Olympic games...

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At the same time, a Citrus tree full of juicy lemons has exactly the same colours and is a sight that never fails to please me. And who would not be happy when looking at a field full of sun flowers? So I definitely wouldn't rule yellow out from my garden. The planting above with bright daffodils and flowering Cornelian cherry (Cornus mas) is not really a stylish one, but it still looks naively happy, especially together with the kids scooters and the wagon on the side.

Chionodoxa forbesii - not a true blue, but beautiful anyway...

Viburnum davidii with true blue fruits

Blue on the other hand is one of the most unusual colours to be found in a garden. If you think of it, most "blues" are actually more mauves or purples. "True" blues are very rare, but can be found in the wonderfully dark, porcelain blue fruits of Viburnum davidii, which is one the most commonly grown evergreens here. It has strongly veined, dark, glossy green leaves on reddish stems that complement beautifully the strongly blue fruits. Interestingly, most Viburnum davidii plants grown in the "Western" countries are derived from a single Chinese population collected by Ernest Wilson in the early 1900s. Meconopsis betonicifolia with a couple of it's relatives, and Salvia patens are the only other "true" blue plants that I can think of for the moment.

Beautiful little bird's nest in a Japanese maple, Acer palmatum 'Red wood'.

Red flowers are not that usual in the spring, besides red tulips and the odd rhododendron or primroses sold by the dozen at the garden centres. Maybe there is something biological behind this; bees have a difficulty seeing red, so most of the spring flowers are white, yellow or blue to help them find food after the long winter when not much is to be found yet? Otherwise, I love trees and shrubs with red bark, as the elegant Japanese maple above, but otherwise I really don't mind the lack of red flowers this time of the year. Maybe in spring, Christmas is still too near so that when I see Camellias blooming with their bright red flowers, I just hear "jingle bells...", and can't help thinking that they would be beautiful if they only would be white.

Two terrific talks

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Last week, I was lucky to listen to two terrific talks: on Tuesday, I attended a charitable lunch with a talk by writer Isabel Allende, a Chilean writer living in Marin County in California. And on Sunday, John Walsh, director emeritus of the Getty Museum in Los Angeles, gave an interesting talk at the Seattle Art Museum with title "The Museum Sculpture Garden: Whose Idea Was That?"

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Isabel Allende, who's books have sold in over 51 million copies since her first novel, The House of the Spirits, talked about her life and experiences as a woman, writer and a human being. She is a most engaging speaker, blending tough personal experiences and gained wisdom with wittiness and humour. Her main message was for us women to stand up for each other. She reminded that despite women in the West often have a very good life, two thirds of the work on this planet is done by women, while only 1% of the wealth is owned by them and she asked us not to forget our less fortunate sisters. She also talked about her deceased daughter Paula's words of "You only have what you give" as a guiding principle for one's life, about how giving and sharing is and should be the most important thing we can do to each other - giving time, knowledge, love and material things when needed. And I agree with her totally, even if I feel that I don't always live up to the level that I feel that I should. (A sidetrack...; in the latest issue of Gardennotes from the Northwest Horticultural Society, Hans Mandt wrote about how during this harsh winter, the Miller Garden had lost all of their Galanthus elwesii var. monostictus 'Hiemalis', a relatively rare variety of snowdrops. Luckily, Hans had got bulbs from them a couple of years ago, and had divided and grown them in different parts of his garden. So now he was able to return plants and to help "repatriate" them to the Miller garden, pointing out how important it is to share one's plants to assure their survival.)
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The second talk I mentioned above, held by John Walsh at the Seattle Art Museum with title "The Museum Sculpture Garden: Whose Idea Was That?" was a real treat to my Art historian brain and eyes. I've always loved both gardens and sculptures (and a couple of times even tried it myself - casting bronze in Melbourne, one of the best things I've ever done), and sculpture gardens and parks really combine these two loves. John filled two hours with his enormous knowledge about art, sculpture and how the sculpture gardens have emerged and evolved since the 1960's. I enjoyed every minute and filled more than 8 pages in my notebook...

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John talked about how gardens and parks actually fulfill the artworks potential by creating a reflective environment for the viewers. He also mentioned how the artwork is never the same in an outdoor environment, as the weather, seasons and light around it change constantly - something that sounds obvious, but many of us probably have not thought about. And then he went on telling the story of the modern sculpture garden, which differs from the old and ancient gardens that often were decorated with sculpture. Historically, the sculpture used in gardens was meant to be commemorative, reminding of gods and goddesses etc, or historical events and rulers, but in the modern gardens and parks, sculpture became art itself, something to be contemplated itself and not just a bearer of connotations.

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John discussed the first of all modern sculpture gardens, the MoMA Sculpture Garden in New York and it's development from 1936 to our time. In addition he showed wonderful photos of sculpture gardens and parks from around the world, as the Kröller-Müller Museum near Otterlo in the Netherlands (the idea of a sculpture park was born here), Louisiana near Copenhagen (landscape interacting with buildings), Storm King Art Center in New York's Hudson valley (contrasts natural surroundings with the difficult human effort of the artwork; I especially loved Andy Goldsworthy's lingering stone wall Storm King Wall), Wanås in Sweden, and other interesting and important sculpture gardens. He also talked about "our own" sculpture garden here in Seattle, the Olympic Sculpture Garden in the city centre and presented it as a development of the traditional sculpture garden, by the park itself being a sculpture and not only a setting for the artworks. An really interesting thought, and something I sensed but could not quite put into words while visiting the park myself.

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Two fantastic talks during one single week; so much knowledge and new thoughts, so much enrichment to one's rather ordinary life. You only have what you give - so incredibly true even here. I send my earnest thanks to both speakers for sharing their knowledge and experiences.

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See my earlier post about the Seattle Olympic Sculpture Park.

I've taken all pictures above at the Olympic Sculpture Park, list of works included on the park's web site.

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The First Lady digs for victory...

Michelle Obama digging for a new kitchen garden at the South Lawn. Photo APF.

Today, The New York Times run an article about Michelle Obama's new project - digging up a kitchen garden to grow food at the South Lawn of the White House. This the second time a vegetable garden has been planted at the White House; the first time was when Eleanor Roosevelt did so in 1943, encouraging people to return to the "victory gardens" that had been popular during the first world war, when this country experienced food shortages. Mrs Roosevelt's garden became hugely popular as an inspiration and some 20m Americans followed her lead, which meant that by the end of the war they grew 40% of the nation's vegetables.

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I think it is extremely heartwarming to read about Mrs Obama's aspirations as a kitchen gardener. And truly, she could not have chosen a better time for her growing project. Not only the recession makes it worthwhile for people to try to save money by growing their own food, but there other considerations too; people are worried about the safety of their food, they want to eat more healthily, and are concerned about the climate change. Already, seed companies are experiencing substantial growth in sales; just a bit more than a week ago, Seattle Times reported how seed sales are up 20 to 30 percent at wholesalers because of the bad economy and worries about genetically modified crops. Burpee, the world's largest seed company, said in the same article that it is selling thousands of a $10 "Money Garden" package that it says will grow $650 worth of vegetables. Now, everything is relative and despite the tough economic times we certainly are not in a middle of a world war, but still, if Michelle Obama gets anything near as many followers as Mrs Roosevelt, this really could be a change to make a difference.

An English Victory garden poster, also from the Second World War. Gardening seems to be serious business, done by two middle aged men, no pretty ladies here...
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Mrs Obama herself says in the interview, that besides providing food for the first family’s meals and formal dinners, the organic garden's most important role will be to educate children about healthful, locally grown fruit and vegetables at a time when obesity and diabetes have become a national concern. Of course she won't be digging all by herself, but will have a full time gardener and help from her staff and also from local school classes (excellent initiative!), but she still promises that the first family will be hands-on gardeners weeding and cultivating the land themselves (and I can't wait for the photos of them, together weeding the highly visible plot on the South Lawn). So, while totally in tune with the tough economic times with a her "victory garden", Mrs Obama is in fact fighting a much larger and long-term war, which is one against the thoughtless junk food culture leading to ill health and environmental problems. I guess most of us garden people will make a "V" for Victory - for Michelle's new kitchen garden.

Happy weekend - and good gardening to you all!

For more, see the The New York Times article.