The timeless grounds of Pukkila Manor

The kitchen garden at Pukkila, or Buckila Manor, with horseradish and cardoons growing in front of old fruit trees.

*

While browsing through old photos, I stumbled upon some of Pukkila (or Buckila in Swedish) Manor, one of my favorite places near Turku in southwestern Finland. This beautiful estate and farm was named after the Bock family who owned it from 1540s until 1720s. In those days, Turku (or Åbo as it is called in Swedish) was the capital of Finland that formed the eastern part of the kingdom of Sweden; several members of the Bock family worked as high officials for the King's administration.

*

Cabbages and onions take the front stage at the Pukkila gardens. Fire-engine red bee balm (Monarda) and other ornamentals can be seen nearer the house.

*

The current, red-painted manor house with a heavy mansard roof was built in 1762. In its dignified simplicity, it is a handsome representative for the pared down Scandinavian rococo style typical for the period. Its deep red color is called 'Falu red' or Falu röd in Swedish, and it was used to imitate the fine brick houses of Stockholm and other larger cities (later, this copper based color became extremely popular and was used to paint smaller houses and even barns, a custom that Scandinavian emigrants took with them to their new homesteads on the other side of the Atlantic). Today, Pukkila Manor belongs to Finland's National Board of Antiquities, and it is meticulously restored and furnished as a 18th century family home.

*

Entrance through the red picket fence to the kitchen gardens; tall hop-poles against the fields (I compressed these pictures for years ago so their quality is unfortunately poor).

*

The gardens of Pukkila are skillfully tended and planted with herbs, vegetables and flowering plants that were popular in the 18th century. Old fruit trees and red-painted picket fences surround the lush kitchen gardens where cabbages and root vegetables play the leading roles once again. Sturdy hop-poles stand in attention against wide grain fields that separate Pukkila from the bustle of the surrounding world. Just some 20 minutes from the city centre, time seems to have forgotten its duties in Pukkila, making it an excellent destination for gardeners who are fond of time traveling.

*

A well and outbuildings for housing workers and other personnel at Pukkila.

PS - Turku is a little, historic town where I spent the formative years between 11 and 22, and despite the many places I've lived in since then, I still usually call it my hometown. I've posted about some other favorites as Luostarinmäki, Sagalund and Källskär, just a few amongst many beautiful places there. This year, Turku shares with Tallinn the well-earned honor of being the European Capital of Culture, so despite the somewhat poor quality of the pictures, I wanted to show what kind of lovely scenes are waiting if your path ever takes you to the southern shores of Finland.

A scented escape

Chimonanthus praecox, also called Japanese allspice or fragrant wintersweet tree; its waxy, white flowers with burgundy eyes emit a spicy perfume.*

I've been chasing a story that seems to escape every time I think I'm getting nearer. Instead of pressing myself in front of the white screen, I fled to the Washington Park Arboretum, hoping to find an opening or at least some fresh inspiration. Instead, I captured portraits of some fragrant, winter-flowering shrubs that were generously spreading around their uplifting scent of spring. So I'm happy, even if still no closer to my teasingly evasive story...

*
The evergreen Himalayan Sarcococca, Sarcococca hookeriana var. 'Humilis'; taking in just one twig fills the room with its wonderful fragrance.
*
Winter honeysuckle, Lonicera standishii, originates from China. Like most honeysuckles, it is highly perfumed, but flowers in mid-winter. This photo does its own tricks; the twig should be horizontal with the flowers hanging...
*
Winter jasmine, Jasminum nudiflorum, opens its sunny, bright flowers before its leaves emerge, just as its Latin name indicates. Also highly scented, it is hardy and tolerates pretty much any type of soil.
*
An unidentified witch hazel, Hamamelis x intermedia, is one of my favorites. I love its soft scent that I think is a mixture of honey and lemon.

Winter hazel, Corylopsis spicata, comes from the woodlands of Japan and is related to the witch hazels. Its hanging, greenish yellow flowers emerge from bare branches in early February and continue to bloom until late April, forming an excellent background to small spring bulbs, Hellebores and other early bulbs and perennials. It has a very delicate, honey-like scent.

*

More complete, by adding

A garden is not complete

until nothing more can be removed.

*- Japanese proverb -

* *

On the way to the school bus this morning, my girls found this stone by the sidewalk. "Look, mom, it's a perfect miniature mountain! Let's take it home!" So I carried it home with red, frostbitten fingers (no gloves again, one gets so lazy when they are seldom needed). Under some big trees behind the house, it now forms an enchanted little landscape together with the ever-flourishing mosses, like a tiny shard of completeness amongst all imperfection.

*

I just wonder how I can keep the maintenance guys from removing it, without marking it with some kind of an ugly label?

**

Fragrant raw material for making Washi

The furry, soft buds of Edgeworthia chrysantha, just opening to reveal its bright, yellow flowers.

**

Given the mild climate of the Pacific Northwest, gardeners here are spoiled with a wide choice of plants to enliven their gardens through the rainy, foggy winters. As a result, I've been been acquainted with a completely new palette of shrubs and other plants that would never survive either the cold Scandinavian winters or the hot Australian summers; some of them attractive for their scent, some for the flowers, and a few lucky for both.

The nodding buds lift up their heads, eventually forming a globe of yellow flowers.

Paper bush, Edgeworthia chrysantha, is one of these happy new discoveries. For the moment, an old specimen is starting to flower at the Bellevue Botanical Gardens nearby, so ventured there to get a closer look. It wasn't quite open yet, so I couldn't detect any scent, but it is described as beautiful, Edgeworthia being part of the family of Daphnes so well-known for their heavy fragrance. It has a similar form too, as the new stems reach out in 45 degree angles from the older branches. Ultimately, it becomes a bush of about 5 ft by 5 ft, but it can also be grown as a single stemmed, little tree. Edgeworthia is very picky of its growing conditions and requires heavy loam and a sheltered location with no major frosts to thrive. Its flowers are quite insignificant, yellow tubular ones growing in tight clusters, but they are really wonderful when still in bud, covered by a silky, silvery hair, soft like rabbits ears if you touch them.

Trying to get a glimpse of the reluctant buds...

*

I've always loved Japanese paper, those light-weight, translucent sheets that reveal a fine structure if held against light, which can be found in good art supply stores. So I was quite intrigued to find out that Edgeworthia, or Mitsumata in Japanese, is actually one of the three most common raw materials for making Washi, a Japanese paper used for calligraphy and printmaking. The Grove Encyclopedia of materials and techniques in art tells that the Japanese farmers have since the 10th century cultivated Mitsumata to make paper during the cold winter months; low temperature discourages mold growth and tightens the fibres to produce crisper sheets. The fibre from the inner bark is washed and beaten by hand and foot in the clear running winter streams (I shiver even at the thought of this), then cooked with wood ash and washed again several times before it is set in bamboo and silk screens and processed further to become sheets of smooth, glossy, insect-resistant paper.

*

The Japanese tea house at the Bellevue Botanical Garden; traditionally, Washi was used to make screens and windows for Japanese houses.

Edgeworthia is still used to make Washi paper today, even if I suspect that only few farmers produce it with the ancient method described above. And even if yellow is not my favorite color in the spring garden (besides Hamamelis, I usually find white flowers from Narcissus to tulips a bit more attractive, even if I'm not fully consistent on this...), I think Edgeworthia with its wonderful scent and interesting history would definitely be worth a try in a garden with the right conditions.

*

A biased report of the Royal Botanic Gardens in Melbourne

Entrance to the Ian Potter Foundation Children's Garden... with Muehlbeckia sculptures trained on wire (bad hair day! as my girls said), and tactile fronds of asparagus fern, Asparagus densiflorus.

*

A friend of mine who also happens to be a psychiatrist, said once that women always have a special relationship with the houses they lived in when they got their babies. I think this could be extended to other significant places from that same period of time in life, like the parks and gardens where they went with their babies. Just thinking of the first steps my daughters took on the rolling lawns of the Royal Botanic Gardens in Melbourne makes me completely and positively biased towards this peaceful, blooming park by the Yarra river, just a stone's throw from the bustling tennis courts of the Australian Open tournament.

*

A Victorian house for private functions with adjoining perennial border.

*

Furry stems and flowers of kangaroo paw, Anigozanthos 'Big Red'.

*

Founded in 1845, only ten years later than the City of Melbourne, the Royal Botanic Gardens follows the proud tradition of botanical gardens around the world. Trees, shrubs and other plants form all around the world grow on the grounds, many of them gathered in special collections highlighting special plant habitats or regions. Many plants are neatly labeled, which helps the curious visitor to identify the surrounding botanical riches. Extensive lawns that were designed in the mid-1900s provide sweeping views of the plantings, which are often gathered into islands and large beds. Large ornamental ponds reflect the greenery and double as water reservoirs.

*

Red flowering gum, Corymbia ficifolia 'Summertime' in full bloom in the children's garden.
*

Queensland bottle trees, Brachychiton rupestris, by the entrance of the children's gardens. Tower of the Governor's House in the background.

*

A bamboo grove for young explorers to get lost in.

One of the most exciting parts of the gardens is the new Ian Potter Foundation Children's Garden, where kids can run around, explore and learn about plants. It is beautifully designed, with tunnels, water rills and climbing platforms to enjoy water or the canopies of the high bamboos. Alternatively, they can check our what's in season the kitchen garden - during our visit, salads had already bolted, but radishes and onions looked delicious.
**

View from the kitchen garden.

*

Echinaceas thriving in the kitchen garden.

*

It would be very spoilt to say that there is nothing extraordinary about the Royal Botanic Gardens in Melbourne, even if in one sense there isn't - all features of the gardens have been done elsewhere in other botanical gardens, even if the children's garden is one of the best I've seen. But the abundant vegetation, temperate climate, softly rolling hills and location by the river Yarra make their magic here. And the way Melburnians use their gardens, from sunrise to sunset.

The herb garden.
*

Buds and flowers of pomegranate, Punica granatum.

*

First thing in the morning, early joggers 'do the Tan', a nickname for the path that leads around the gardens (out of nostalgia, I did the Tan every day during our visit, exchanging a smiling good morning with every jogger I met...). Later, moms with strollers and the lunch crowds arrive, and during afternoons, whole families gather to play together in the gardens. In the evenings, culture aficionados devour Shakespeare plays or all kinds of concerts under the starry skies. So even without my memories about my girls, with unsteady steps and eager to smell the flowers, nosediving into the lush flowerbeds, this garden would be a wonderful oasis to visit. And with those memories attached, it is one of the special places in my and my daughters' lives.

Families teaching cricket to their toddlers in front of the bamboo groves (ball games are strictly prohibited, but quietly tolerated when the participants are under 5...).

*

Scrupull and other weights a gardiner ought to understand

A Scrupull of Barly-cornes

A Graine weights a Barly-corne.

A Scrupull is 20 Graines.

Obolus is 10 graines.

A Dram is 13 Oboluis.

An Ounce (no further explanation here).

A Pound is 12 Ounces of physical ingredients;

16 of other things.

A manuple is a good hand-full.

A pugill is a small hand-full, or as much as

you can take up with the tops of you fingers.

*

And I thought it was a bit inconvenient to convert between grams and pounds, Celsius and Fahrenheit... How wrong I was. I could actually have been stuck with scrupulls, oboluis and drams, too. Well, to celebrate that the weekend is almost here, I just had a pugill of dark chocolate raisins. Cheers!

*

From 'Directions for the Gardiner and other Horticultural Advice' by John Evelyn (1620-1707), edited by Maggie Campbell-Culver and published in 2009. This books is fantastic reading with practical gardening advice from the 17th century. It contains detailed instructions for cultivating and tending perennials, annuals, root vegetables and trees, and explainations of horticultural terminology, advice on tools and many other delicious things for real garden people. Highly recommended!

*

Witch-hazels against mid-winter gloom

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Orange Beauty' in full bloom at the Witt Winter Garden.
*

The witch-hazels are out again, spreading their spicy honey-scent around in the winter-wet gardens of Seattle. Two years ago, I wrote about witch-hazels and other midwinter wonders in the Witt Winter Garden at the Washington Arboretum, and yesterday, I decided to check out how they were doing this year. Wonderfully, as my pictures can tell.

*

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Winter Beauty' with burnt orange stamens that darken towards the maroon flowers.

** *

I'd always thought that the name 'witch-hazel' had something to do with the plant's many medicinal qualities - it has been traditionally used as an astringent and to prevent hemorrhages - but Vita Sackville-West tells otherwise in her Garden book. She writes that the early settlers of North America took the characteristically forked twigs of the native Hamamelis virginiana and used them for water-divining, as they had used hazel-twigs back in England. The plant got its name from this as any twig that would twitch in the hand had something to do with a witch or a wizard in the old days, at least according to Vita.

*A Hamamelis x intermedia cultivar with a bit darker orange ribbons... it looks a lot like 'Jelena', but I couldn't find a name tag to confirm my thoughts.

* *

Besides the three native North American species, Hamamelis virginiana, H. ovalis och H. vernalis, the most beautiful witch-hazels come from China and Japan, as so many other distinct garden plants. Hamamelis x intermedia, a hybrid of Chinese H. mollis and Japanese H. japonica, has produced many garden-worthy species. Their flowers are like tiny fireworks, cascades of them exploding with both colour and scent from the twisted branches. As a picked flowers, witch-hazels are long-lasting and capable of filling a whole room with their fresh, spicy scent.

Hamamelis x intermedia 'Fire charm' has pinkish red stamens with delicate, white edging.
*

Sometimes I entertain myself by making mental lists of plants that I would like to have in my garden in Saltsjöbaden. Witch-hazel always comes up there within the top ten or twenty, and luckily, there are several cultivars I could plant even in the cold climate of Sweden. As Vita says, they are tough and will grow in any soil and any aspect, though the better they are treated, the better they will do (she adds that this applies to most people too...). I think a little grove of them would make cheery sight together with the thousands of snowdrops that already thrive under the big oaks, brightening up dreary mid-winter days. As it seems now, I still have some time to decide which cultivar to choose from the all tempting alternatives...

I think I'll go for the 'Orange Beauty' - its lucious, citrusy colour scheme can truly chase away the gloom on a dark winter day.
*

Cruden Farm - a lifelong source of gardening joy

Cruden Farm, Dame Elisabeth Murdoch's country garden at Langwarring in Australia.

*

Driving through the sprawling suburbs on the highway towards the Mornington Peninsula south of Melbourne, one would never guess that a pair of modest wooden gates, opening directly from the freeway, leads to one of the most iconic gardens of Australia. Behind the gates, followed by a magnificent driveway of lemon-scented gums, lies Cruden Farm, home and country garden of Dame Elisabeth Murdoch, the widow of Australian media publisher Keith Murdoch and a great philanthropist, whose generous and passionate involvement in arts, medicine, research and many social causes has made a positive difference in the lives of countless Australians.

* 'Ibis' by Phil Price, a 100th birthday present to Dame Elisabeth from her family.

*

Long before this first visit to Cruden Farm, I'd seen pictures from it garden books and publications, but had always been unable to travel when it was open to the public. This time, due to some very fortunate interference, my family got a tour of the gardens. And not just an ordinary one, but a ride on Dame Elisabeth's electric garden buggy together with Michael Morrison, who has gardened at Cruden Farm together with Dame Elisabeth for four decades. Michael told us about the trees and plants and the developments of the garden, pointed out Dame Elisabeth's favorite views and picked even roses named after Dame Elisabeth to both of our girls. His knowledge and love for the garden made the tour a memorable highlight of our Australian trip.

*

Above: Copper beech, Fagus sylvatica Purpurea group forms a background for one flower border. Below: The stables were the centre of action in the 1930s and 40s.
*

Cruden Farm had very romantic beginnings: it was given by Keith Murdoch as a wedding present to his young bride in 1928. Elisabeth loved her small farm and tended the garden from its earliest days. For decades, the farm provided a paradise for the growing family that gathered here for horse riding, fishing and entertaining during the weekends.
*

The walled garden designed by Edna Walling in 1931 with sumptuous perennial borders.
*

In 1931, Australia's then leading garden designer Edna Walling was commissioned to work on the areas nearest to the house. Inspired by the Arts and Crafts style, Ms. Walling's design included two walled gardens and a magnificent entrance driveway lined with lemon-scented gumtrees, leading to a circular lawn planted with three now large huge elm trees in front of the house. Sadly, the roses in one of the walled gardens never thrived in the sharp Australian sun that was additionally reflected by the thick brick walls, so eventually they had to be removed to another area. But the perennial borders of the second part of the walled garden, a project of continuous co-operation by Dame Elisabeth and Michael Morrison, were thriving luxuriously, their colour scheme offering a cool visual relief from the heat.
*

Above: Shade provided by the now mature trees. Below: The glossy leaves of a huge Macedon oak, Querqus 'Firthii', listed on the register of significant trees in Victoria, Australia.

*

In 1944, a devastating bushfire raged through the property and lead to new developments in the garden and farm on totally 54 hectares. Many of them have been related to water, always in scarce supply during the hot summers and especially during times of drought, of which the latest that just broke lasted for 12 years. Mains water was connected in 1975, which allowed the garden to be watered for the first time - until then, Dame Elisabeth had pumped the water and shifted the hoses herself at dawn or on dusk. In late 1980s, two dams behind the house were extended to form the beautiful large lake in the second picture, offering both water storage and making a perfect refuge for wildlife. In the late 1990s, another lagoon was created to secure water supply for the gardens.

Cruden Farm's now iconic driveway lined with lemon-scented gum trees (Eucalyptus sp.), a beautiful adaptation to the native flora of Australia.

*

In 2009, Dame Elisabeth celebrated her 100th birthday. Determinately, she continues to work with Michael, always thinking of new ways to revise and improve what to most of gardeners already looks like a picture of perfection. 'One must always replenish for the future in a garden', as Dame Elisabeth says, now well into her ninth decade of gardening at Cruden Farm.

*

Cruden Farm is private and visits can be done by prior appointment or on one of its open days.

*

Waking up, yawning

Galanthus nivalis 'Flore Pleno'

*

Just found these little ones under a Japanese maple in my garden. Still sleepy, not quite ready to show off all their frilly petticoats. How I love their nodding heads, peeking up from the moist soil like dainty drops of flawless perfection...
*

Rippon Lea - a well preserved Victorian with a great fernery

The fernery, or the 'Grand Shade House' at Rippon Lea, is home to over 230 species of ferns.*

Coincidentally, the latest issue of the Garden Design magazine that dropped down two days ago in the mailbox was titled "The New Victorian Age". It was full of Victoriana and pteridomania (which translates to fern craze or fever), two tightly related subjects, and contained some remarkably beautiful, overexposed pictures of ferns by Bryan Whitney on its pages. Ferns have been a stable in gardens and as indoor plants since the Victorian times, but it seems that there is a renewed fever in the air, ferns popping up again in interior design, on sheets, prints and other decorative elements. And considering the many articles and garden books about the Victorian age that have been published lately, maybe there is something to the magazine's claim of the Victorian period's 'second coming'... we'll see.

*

The shady verandas and terraces leading to the gardens; my girls are having a rest from the heat in the white garden chairs...

*

All this focus on Victoriana ties nicely together with my recent visit to Rippon Lea in the suburb of Elsternwick in Melbourne. Rippon Lea is a national treasure that has since 2006 been included in Australia's top heritage listing. It is the last of the great privately owned 19th century suburban estates to survive largely intact in Australia. Built and developed between 1868 and 1903 by leading Melbourne businessman and politician Frederick Thomas Sargood, the house was designed in Romanesque style by Joseph Reed, then one of the most prominent architects in Melbourne. *

*The lake, with ornamental cast iron bridges - cast iron was another Victorian invention and favorite - leading from one side to the other.
* *

Although the surrounding suburbia has crept closer and the Rippon Lea gardens now are reduced from their original size, they still are of international significance as an excellent example of Victorian garden making. The last owners of the Rippon Lea, Benjamin Nathan and his daughter Louisa Jones, preserved the gardens relatively intact, and they still retain many features from the times of Frederick Sargood: a lake, a mound and grotto, extensive lawns, a huge fernery, a conservatory and a serpentine carriageway. To sustain his extensive gardens through the hot Melbournian summers, Sargood designed a sophisticated underground irrigation system that was driven by a wind-mill that still exists on the grounds.

*

The conservatory and a view from the fernery, constructed of cast iron arches supported by cast iron pillars, and covered with wooden slats.*

How ferns reproduce was not properly understood until the 1830s. Once the mystery was solved (by accident in London) and nurseries could start propagating them, a fern craze swept over Great Britain and spread over to its colonies. A fernery became an essential element of large Victorian gardens, and as a passionate garden person, Frederick Sargood built in 1884 a 'Grand Shade House', a huge fernery imitating an Australian gully, to house his collection of more than 230 species from all around the world, including huge specimens of Australian tree ferns.

*The shady, serpentine drive way, overhang with Moreton Bay figs.
*

The day of our visit was hot, up to 38 degrees C (100 degrees F), so the long, winding driveway overhang with huge Moreton Bay figs (Ficus macrophylla) provided a longed-for, shady welcome to the estate of Rippon Lea. But even more welcome was the coolness of the Great Shade House where we lingered for a long time admiring its lush verdant inhabitants, their fronds filling the air like huge lacy tentacles, hanging from the walls and covering the ground with their intricate, leathery leaves. I could completely understand the Victorians' infatuation with ferns and ferneries, and thought I would be more than delighted with their revival - just like we have experienced the renaissance of stumperies, another Victorian folly, during the last decade. So new Victorians - what comes to ferneries, I guess you can count me in!

*

* More about Rippon Lea, Elsternwick near Melbourne, Victoria, Australia.