Quote of the Day

The enjoyment of beauty is dependent on, and in ratio with, the moral excellence of the individual.

- The Crayon, New York's leading art magazine of the 1850's -

Don't you just love the definitive certainty of a connection between moral and beauty in the quote above? At the time when The Crayon wrote this, most writing about art was quite evangelical, full of conviction of that the arts could change the moral dimension of life. In America, the wilderness was seen as a prototype of Nature, the place where the designs of God could be seen in their pure and unedited stage. The vast, wild landscape and nature, that was being discovered during this period especially in the far West, became a symbol for America in art, and lead to numerous paintings depicting the American landscape, often in an idealized form.

The art of landscape gardening followed the same paths of thought. Andrew Jackson Downing (1815-52), one of the most significant voices in the area during 19th century, writes in A Treatise on the Theory and Practice of Landscape Gardening from 1841 that "Although music, poetry, and painting, sister fine arts, have in all enlightened countries sooner arrived at perfection than Landscape Gardening, yet the latter offers to the cultivated mind in its more perfect examples, in a considerable degree a union of these sources of enjoyment...". Jackson Downing explains the two 'distinct modes' of landscape gardening art as the 'Ancient, Formal or Geometric Style', with regular forms and right lines, and the 'Modern, Natural or Irregular Style' with varied forms and flowing lines. He goes on to explain how "Every one, thought possessed of the least possible portion of taste, readily appreciates the cost and labour incurred in the first case, and bestows his admiration accordingly; but we must infer the presence of a cultivated and refined mind, to realize and enjoy the more exquisite beauty of natural forms". Which could be translated that the more moral excellence and taste the onlooker has, the more he or she enjoys the purest form of landscape architecture, which according to Jackson Downing is the 'Modern, Natural or Irregular Style'.

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Jackson Downing continues to explain the reason for the change of taste (a favourite concept during of the first half of the 18th century) from the Formal to the Natural Style: "The increased admiration of landscape painting, poetry, and other fine arts, by imbuing many minds with a love of beautiful and picturesque nature, also tended to create a change in taste. Gradually, men of refined sensibilities perceived that besides mere beauty of form, natural objects have another and much higher kind of beauty - namely, the beauty of expression." And he ends his essay with the conclusion that "A natural group of trees, an accidental pond of water, or some equally simple object, may form a study more convincing to the mind of a true admirer of natural beauty, than the most carefully drawn plan, or the most elaborately written description". Of course, Jackson Downing's text follows similar developments and writings in Europe. It is interesting, though, that something of the "moral supremacy" of the Informal or 'Natural' style that Jackson Downing's writes about, can still be felt when reading about and visiting gardens of today, especially here in the United States (and I am not talking about sustainability or ecological issues here).

Coming back to the original quote: considering all the money and time we spend on all things of 'beauty' like art, books, films, magazines, most of us should be creatures of a great moral excellence, if that predication would have been true. Sadly, it does not seem to be so.

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On the picture: A Tricyrtis hirta, a beautiful member of the lily family from the Himalayas. I grew it in my garden in Melbourne, Australia, and still get a bit nostalgic when I see it. I took this photo in a wonderful, private garden that Daniel Mount showed me for a couple of weeks ago; he has designed parts of the large garden and is the head gardener for it.

A book by Mien Ruys, mother of the New Perennial movement

Oenotheras and Echinaceas, in Mien Ruys book Het vaste planten boek.

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Mien Ruys is one of the names within garden design that has always caught my interest and admiration. Her gardens have such a refined sense of place and strong form, always combined with sensitive planting schemes and great plant associations. In many of her designs, she used the architectural and sculptural forms of squares, rectangles and circles (which seem to be especially dear for us Scandinavians), and overlaid then her plans with soft and rich plantings, often in bold drifts and well defined blocks. My modernist, Finnish/Scandinavian background (I grew up surrounded by marimekko textiles and Alvar Aalto furniture...) probably is the reason why her designs are extremely attractive to my eyes; I love their clean lines combined with a sensitivity for the place and an appreciation for the nature. It is one of my big regrets within my garden travelling life that I never made it to her famous garden in Holland, Tuinen Mien Ruys, at Moerheim in Dedemsvaart, despite visiting the country several times as my sister lived there for a couple of years.

A garden plan and a planting plan by Mien Ruys.

Then, you can imagine my joy when I found an unused copy of Mien Ruys (together with her siblings J.D. and Th. Ruys) book Het vaste planten boek, in Swedish called Våra vackra perenner, in the Salvation Army's thrift shop in Stockholm (that I've written about earlier as one of my favorite haunts for wonderful, old garden books). It was written in 1950 in the Netherlands, and translated into Swedish in 1954. In it, Mien Ruys draws from her extensive experience with gardens and plants and gives advice on plant selection for different garden situations. Mien Ruys started to design gardens when she was 19 in 1923, and died in 1999 at the age of 94. In 1955 she founded the magazine Onze Eigen Tuin (Our Own Garden), and wrote a couple of books, but most of her writings were only published in the Netherlands and never translated to English.

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A picture of the garden shown in the drawings above.

It is wonderful to read this book as it has a great selection of perennials for different kinds of gardens: city gardens, country gardens and even roof and container gardens, something that feels completely up to date today, when compact gardening is discussed in most gardening magazines. Perennials are chosen and grouped by growing conditions, colours and blooming times. Also, there is an interesting chapter about plants that can be naturalized, with instructions about best plants for different situations: woodland, meadow, or boggy gardens. This feels very modern, and would be instructional for many gardeners of today. It is interesting to look at the plant lists; several varieties of grasses, Eupatoriums, Verbenas, Salvias, Echinaceas, Thalictrums, Persicarias, Solidagos... many of which are familiar from the plantings made by designers of the New Perennial Movement in the 90's and continue to be very popular. This shows clearly how skillful Mien and her siblings were in their plant selections.

Mien thought that poppies were perfect for naturalizing in meadow gardens. This photo is so beautiful and sensitive, a real little piece of art.

Considering all above, it is not surprising that Piet Oudolf mentions Mien as his first influence in his popular book Designing with Plants (from 1999). He writes that "She was everywhere, the only garden designer in Holland who was talking about plants and plantings, the others just talked about design." Andrew Wilson writes in his excellent book Influential Gardeners, The Designers who Shaped the 20th Century Garden Style (from 2002) that Ruys has been inspirational by at least Anthony Paul, Piet Oudolf and James van Sweden. So I don't think it is an overstatement to say that Mien was the mother of the New Perennial Movement, an excellent designer and plantswoman whose work continues to be influential and important even today.

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More pictures about Mien Ruys gardens here; and look at excellent photos also on Vulgare.net.

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.

Filoli Estate and Garden

Filoli house in Woodside, California; the columned main entry is covered in Wisteria and surrounded by Magnolias and Japanese maples.

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Driving through the country road surrounded by several hundred years old Coast Live Oaks (Quercus agrifolia), and arriving to a visitors centre surrounded by an olive orchard with rows of gnarled old Mission and Manzanillo Olive trees is an experience that sets your expectations high for things to come. This time, our expectations were not only met but exceeded, as we proceeded through the historical house and gardens of Filoli, located in Woodside 25 miles south of San Francisco, enjoying every minute of our visit. In truth, we liked it so much that on our way up to San Francisco again, we decided to revisit Filoli one more time, just to make sure that we had taken in all of what it has to offer. Despite its European style historical eclecticism that can sometimes seem so out of place in the New World, the Filoli house and gardens form a harmonious whole, built and planned in respect with its magnificent natural environment.

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Coast live oaks against a backdrop of fields and hills.
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Filoli is one of the finest remaining country estates of the early 20th century in North America. It is a prime example of the California eclectic style and the Golden Era of gardens in North America (about 1890-1940). According to the guides at Filoli, it was built to provide an inspiring vision of a new Eden, with bountiful land, plentiful resources and an emphasis on self-sufficiency. It was built more than sixty years after the California Gold Rush that started a massive migration to Northern California, and ten years after the devastating 1906 earthquake and fire in San Francisco. Both of these large scale events inspired Filoli's owners to create this magnificent estate as a country escape from problems of the crowded and vulnerable life in the city.

Gate to the walled garden and the sunken garden with its reflective pool.

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Filoli was built for Mr. and Mrs. William Bowers Bourn, prominent San Franciscans whose chief source of wealth was the Empire Mine, a hard-rock gold mine in Grass Valley, California. Contrary to my thought, there is nothing Italian about the unusual name of Filoli; Mr. Bourn made it up himself by combining the first two letters from the key words of his credo: “Fight for a just cause; Love your fellow man; Live a good life.”

Garden house behind the sunken garden.

Mr. Bourn chose longtime friend and prominent San Francisco architect Willis Polk as principal designer for the House. Construction of Filoli began in 1915 and the Bourns moved into the House in 1917. Bruce Porter, an artist and landscape designer together with horticulturalist Isabella Worn were enlisted to help the Bourns' plan the layout of the extensive formal garden that was built between 1917 and 1929. Porter and the Bourns envisioned the house and garden as complementary units, with the north-south axis of the garden echoing the line of the main hall of the house. Inspired by European influences, the garden is a succession of garden rooms containing parterres, terraces, lawns and pools, arranged between the two parallel north-south walks; all typical for large country estates in the USA of this time. Filoli had the distinction of being one of the last country places built on the Peninsula south of San Francisco and the one that has survived the longest in its original design.

One of the many doors leading to the garden from the house.

After Mr. and Mrs. Bourn both died in 1936, the estate was purchased in 1937 by Mr. and Mrs. William P. Roth. At Filoli Mrs. Roth took a great interest in her garden. Isabella Worn, who worked with the Bourns on the original selection of plants for the gardens, came out of semi-retirement to work with Mrs. Roth and continued to come to Filoli until her death at age 81 in 1950. Some of Mrs. Roth's favorite new acquisitions were magnolias, maples, roses, rhododendrons and camellias. Mrs. Roth made the Filoli Garden known worldwide and hosted many distinguished visitors, including botanical and horticultural societies, garden clubs and other organizations. In 1973 Mrs. Roth was awarded the Distinguished Service Medal of the Garden Clubs of America for her achievements as a collector.

The rose garden.

Mrs. Roth made Filoli her home until 1975 when she donated 125 acres, including the house and formal garden, to the National Trust for Historic Preservation for the enjoyment and inspiration of future generations. Now operated by Filoli Center, the 654-acre estate is a California State Historic Landmark and listed on the National Registry of Historic Places.

I have compiled and rewritten the historical facts above from the information materials and folders provide by Filoli Center.

Save the forgotten gardens of Pehr Kalm

Crabapples at Pehr Kalm's experimental gardens in Sipsalo, near Turku. The main house at the back is from mid-18th century.

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An update to this post - an international appeal to save Pehr Kalm's garden - is found here.

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To my great surprise, an old garden of Pehr Kalm, one of Carl von Linné's earliest and most important students, has surfaced near Turku (or Åbo, as it is called in Swedish), my hometown on the South Western shores of Finland. My sister notified me of an article in the local newspaper, and given how culturally interested my sister, her husband and the rest of my family are, it is incredible that none of us had any idea that this garden still existed (albeit in an overgrown state - how much of the original garden from the 18th century remain is an open question). Now, the owner of the garden and adjoining farm has died, and the descendants have unsuccessfully tried to offer the place for the local universities, the Swedish speaking Academy of Turku (Åbo Akademi) and the Finnish speaking University of Turku (Turun Yliopisto). Unfortunately, none of them has expressed interest in buying the place, stating bad economical times as a reason.

Pehr Kalm (1716-1779) was a naturalist, explorer, agricultural economist and priest, who despite a poor childhood showed such talent, that he was sponsored to study first at the Academy of Turku and later at the Uppsala University in Sweden, where he met Carl von Linné (Linnaeus). He became the superintendent of an experimental planting in Uppsala, and was sponsored by the owner of the planting to travel first in Sweden, Finland, Russia (1742–1745) and later to North America (1748–1751), visiting Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Niagara Falls, Montreal and Quebec. Kalm wrote a journal of his travels to North America, En resa til Nord America, which was published already during his lifetime in four different languages. A new American edition of the book was publised in the 1930's, and it still is an important reference to life in colonial North America. In Species Plantarum, Linné cites Pehr Kalm for 90 species of which 60 were new; the most well-known genus is probably Kalmia, named by Carl von Linné after him.

Pehr Kalm tried to grow mulberries and start a silk industry in Finland.

After his travels, Kalm worked in Turku as professor and was also involved with plantings at the botanical garden of the Academy of Turku. In 1752 he was given land for experimental plantings in Sipsalo, in Hirvensalo near Turku. Here, he cultivated many seeds and plants from his travels to North America, introducing several new genus to Finland, like the now more than common Crataegus grayana, Rubus odoratus and Parthenocissus inserta. He grew several species of crabapples, Malus baccata and other Malus species. He also tried to grow mulberries, Morus rubra, in hope of starting a silk industry in Finland, which of natural reasons come to nothing as both the plants and silk worms suffered in the cold climate.

In what came to be his last letter, Pehr Kalm wrote in 1779 to Arch Bishop Mennander in Turku, expressing concerns about the future of his both gardens, the Botanical garden and Sipsalo's experimental plantings. Now would be a late but excellent opportunity to answer his concerns and do something about this possibility; despite probably being overgrown and neglected, Sipsalo represents an important piece of cultural and garden history in Finland, and is interesting for botanists, garden historians and culturally interested tourists even on a international level. Linné's Hammarby could hold as a model for a successful historical preservation and restoration of Sipsalo; then the life's work of both the teacher and his talented student would be appreciated and celebrated in a way they both so well deserve.

I looking into ways of convincing the city of Turku of saving Pehr Kalm's gardens. Stay tuned for more information.

Kalmin salaisen puutarhan kohtalo auki, article in Turun Sanomat August 28th, 2009. Both photos courtesy of Turun Sanomat.

See also Linnéträdgården, and the Botanical Gardens of Uppsala and Linnés Hammarby, Carl von Linné's charming home and garden in Uppsala, North of Stockholm in Sweden.

The Californian Academy of Sciences

I love art and sciences, but sometimes I feel a bit wary about museums, these human-built environments made for people to entertain (or maybe infotain?) themselves, competing with each other in spectacular shows and exhibitions. Or maybe it is just that I have been spending the last year a bit in a “tourist mode”, scanning through all that Seattle and other cities on our trip lists have to offer. Anyway, there are both better and definitely many worse ways to spend ones time...

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A glass globe inside the building, holding a complete Amazonian rainforest ecosystem; you can walk around four stories inside of the globe, researching the ecosystem from the fish below to the canopy above, all complete with living butterflies and birds).

Despite my pondering, I insisted in having the Californian Academy of Sciences located in the Golden Gate Park on our itinerary to San Francisco and I don’t regret this tiniest little bit. It opened in late 2008 and it really is a spectacular place for both young and old; an aquarium, planetarium, natural history museum and research institution, all housed in a completely sustainable, high tech building encasing the old Academy building. It was designed by Architect Renzo Piano, who also draw the Centre Georges Pompidou in Paris, that famous “guts on the outside” building so avantgarde on its time. In the Academy of Sciences building, the “guts” are actually inside but outside at the same time, just look at the picture above with the glass globe to understand what I mean. K

Totally in tune with the times, the Academy of Sciences building is one of the biggest public LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design) Platinum buildings, and has been reported and published by the press accordingly. The beautifully undulating roof of 2.5 acres with its rounded portholes did remind me of Teletubbies (being a mother of two children in that generation…), or maybe even of some kind of future space buildings. Looking at the over 1.7 million plants gently swaying in the wind, it felt like promise of better things coming, a time when commercial, public and private buildings will be better equipped for helping to save the planet.

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.

Quote of the day

I love borders.
August is the border between summer and autumn;
it is the most beautiful month I know.

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Twilight is the border between day and night,
and the shore is the border between sea and land.
The border is longing: when both have fallen in love but still haven't said anything.
The border is to be on the way. It is the way that is the most important thing.

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- Tove Jansson -

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The days of summer are dwindling away frighteningly fast. Leaves are already turning yellow, albeit from drought and not from the lateness of the season. My parents are visiting us in Seattle for the first time; seeing them here feels like a confirmation for that we actually have moved away, again.
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The Justitia carnea cutting that I got from Marian in June is flowering with flesh pink plumes. I have repotted it a couple of times to give the roots more room to grow; strong roots mean healthy, happy plants. But how many times can you repot a plant before doing it more harm than good? Am I on the right way?

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Picture from "Who will comfort Toffle?", a children's picture book by Tove Jansson first published in 1960.

A scent of waterlilies

The shiny leaves and creamy, cup-shaped flowers of Magnolia grandiflora 'D.D. Blanchard' in my front garden, shedding their yellow stamens on the opening petals...

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After a couple of hot and steamy days of over 90ºF (32ºC) and one reaching a record 104ºF (40ºC), I am totally content with a cool change that came in during the night, the clouds filling the sky and relieving us from the scorching sun. We have been sitting late into the night on our West facing deck, drinking white wine diluted with sparkling water and recalling with nostalgia the equally hot summer nights in Melbourne. There, we sat on our beautiful veranda with Victorian cast-iron lace and pillars covered in Wisteria, waiting for the cool change to sweep over from the Port Phillip Bay. And then, about 10 pm, you could hear the breeze rattle the dry Eucalyptus leaves as a sign of a coming relief from the heat.

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Here in Seattle, it has been a record breaking year; first the coldest winter in at least 20 years and now this dry and hot summer. The results of this somewhat extreme weather can be seen in my garden: first, we lost about 15 good-sized plants of Spanish lavender, and now, it seems like we are loosing quite a many Azaleas, too. Of course, every lost plant can be seen as a possibility for planting something new, but there is a limit to how many mature things you can replace each year. Luckily, the lavenders have self-sown themselves generously leaving me with some good sized plants, even if I'm not quite sure if Spanish lavender comes true from seed. The only plants that seem to thrive in this heat (besides the lavender) are the five Magnolia grandiflora 'D.D. Blanchards' that adorn the street side of our garden.

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New buds opening in the heat.

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I have always been a bit uncertain about M. grandifloras in other than tropical or subtropical gardens; only last winter, they looked totally misplaced here in Seattle with their large and shiny evergreen leaves drooping and the snow snapping off whole branches and tops of these brittle trees. They look stately (but maybe a bit too stiff for most suburban gardens...) and are both evergreen and supposedly low-maintenance, even if they do shed their large and leathery leaves all the year round making them look quite messy underneath, their leaves being too hard to decompose easily (I might need to buy a shredder just to be able to include them in my compost...) And you can actually hear when the leaves drop, making a woodsy "plopping" sound when they reach the ground.

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But there is a very good reason for including a Magnolia grandiflora in one's garden if you happen to live in a zone temperate enough to permit it: the large, creamy flowers emit a wonderful fragrance that is strongly reminiscent of waterlilies. For me, they evoke dear memories of swimming in the Finnish lakes filled with white, wild waterlilies when I was a child. So burying my nose into a one of the Magnolia flowers during the recent hot summer nights has been an experience that almost makes me forget about being so dubious of them during the past cold and icy winter here in Seattle...