Chanticleer

Not a single discouraging word is heard in this account of Chanticleer’s beauty, but judging by the spectacular photos by Rob Cardillo, the praise is justified.  Though only twenty years old as a garden cultivated for public display, Chanticleer has great bones thanks to a 1930s stone house and mature trees, as well as a stream that runs through the site.  Like me, the gardeners have made a woodland garden under a giant oak tree that used to sit in a sea of grass.    Of course, they also have an Asian woods, an orchard, a pond garden, and so on.  Clearly worth a visit!

Adrian Higgins is one of my favorite garden writers.  He clearly writes about  Chanticleer with great knowledge and experience.  Still, I couldn’t help feeling that this was written to order as a puff piece.  (It’s copyrighted by Chanticleer rather than by Higgins.)  Not quite a criticism, since I devoured every word, just an observation.

Notes to self: find out what is this air spade* they used to remove the existing grass from under the oak tree; consider adding Anemone sylvestris and nemorosa along with the blanda, and Phlox stolonifera ‘Sherwood’s Purple’ (bought this week at Merrifield).  Shrub rose Lady Elsie May (‘Angelsie’) is semidouble, coral pink, and freely produces blooms all season long (whatever that means, and allowing for the slightly cooler climate there) and might do for the pink garden.  ‘Sea Shell’ peony, another possibility, is “cupped, single pink, robust and fragrant.  It is one of the classic peonies for cutting.”  Look for the Karma series of dahlias “which have been bred for cutting.  They have a long vase life and straight stems.”

*It turns out that an air spade costs almost $2000 and must be used mainly by professional landscapers and builders.  So, never mind.

Cherry Tree Festival in Fredericksburg

The cherry blossoms were late this year, at least, later than the poor organizers of the DC festival predicted.  Here at home, you just walk around and eventually the blossoms pop.  Here’s the Fredericksburg festival, which lasted from  April 8 through the 12th.  It wasn’t helped by the typical April week in the 80s, followed by a strong morning rain.The cherry trees lining Lewis Street, looking back towards Caroline Street.

Next come cherries and weeping cherries in the neighborhood, snapped during an early morning walk.

Finally, the blossoms on Lewis Street plastered on the windshield during the rain, and the last blossoms stuck to my car that afternoon.

A classical beauty

Ann and I celebrated Mother’s Day by taking advantage of the rare opening of the Mt. Sharon garden to the public.  Adrian Higgins’ article in the Post this week prompted us to be among the first in line to see this central Virginia estate on a day of sun, high clouds and just enough breeze to keep you going.

Signage directed us around the enormous, hundred-year-old boxwoods to the first garden room, a knot garden composed of boxwood and barberry (‘Crimson Pygmy’).I could no more maintain a garden like this than fly to the moon, but I can certainly admire it.

Beyond the knot garden was the spring garden, featuring gorgeous peoniesand white foxgloves.There must be a photographer’s trick to taking pictures of white flowers that don’t wash out.  Here’s a closer look at them.   Click through to see how beautiful the blossoms are.Continuing on we came to a sunny border that mixed lupines in with the foxgloves.  How does she do it in the heat and humidity of Virginia?

Soon we came to one of the many vistas that reminded me of English gardens – or, I guess, any formal gardens you can name.  The “borrowed landscape” here undoubtedly belongs to the owners of Mt. Sharon, and for formality and expansive views it rivals any vistas I’ve seen at English gardens like Hidcote.  Sorry for the blur, but you can appreciate the fountain and the ranks of cypresses.

Beyond this sculpture are the rolling hills of Central Virginia.

Annie looks pleased to see the vista.

Besides the vistas, there are statues, which Higgins explains “play a vital role in setting the mood and defining spaces.”  Eros, installed in honor of the owners’ 40th anniversary, is centered in the exedra, named “after gardens where the Ancients positioned statues of their worthies for contemplation and discussion.”Here are the shadows of the alliums against the column.More perfectly placed statuary includes this beauty in front of the New Dawn roses on the pergola,and Mercury tucked into the hedge.This urn draws the eye to yet another vista, but I liked this sideways glimpse at the nearby hillside and its architectural trees.I don’t know who this grape-eater might be, but he is charming,as is this little boy carrying a basket of flowers.

Speaking of flowers, I was pleased to see many that I grow myself – baptisia, foxgloves, catmint, perovskia, hydrangeas – yet somehow, they look very different in this setting.    And the roses!  Here is one in the perennial border,

and here is ‘New Dawn’ on the pergola.  The rose gardens were amazing.  Here’s just one more picture.  You can see what a beautiful day it is!

After all this color and scent, a small shade garden came as a welcome contrast.  This river of hostas not only shows off their gorgeous leaves but gives you a view of the dry stone wall construction that we saw in several places.And I haven’t even shown you the swimming pool beyond the wisteria pergola, or the hot tub nestled in the trees, or the many more garden rooms that make up the whole.

So, any tips for the home gardener?  That is, besides looking for property with views of the Blue Ridge?  Well, I’m always interested in edging.  They use this metal edging in the borders

as well as in the expansive vegetable garden.  I’ve seen it in catalogs and  been intrigued.This is probably the best solution, but I seem to be committed to stone for now.

Searching for more about the garden, I discovered that their working plans are now housed at the Smithsonian, which makes me wonder if they might eventually leave the estate to a conservation trust one day.  You can find out more about how they created the garden through this link to the Garden Week tour when the garden was last opened publicly (the writing is a bit amateurish but you can discover what they tore out and built in to create what we saw today).

And though the owner is quoted as saying that maintaining this garden is full-time with no days off, it’s clear that you can’t do it without staff.  Well, if you have loads of lovely money, good taste, and a love of gardening, why not?  Their generosity allowed us to enjoy a perfect garden day.

But, wait – it’s not over until the picnic and the arm!  On the way home we stopped at Ellwood, where I remembered that Stonewall Jackson’s arm was buried (to my father’s amusement).  Sure enough, we walked through the grounds to the little cemetery and there it was.  It’s the only grave that’s marked.We enjoyed our chickpea salad, crackers and cheese, oranges and chocolate just outside the fence, while a light breeze made the late spring heat bearable.  A delightful excursion!

Other People’s Gardens: NYC

We really went to New York to see the Italian Renaissance art at the Metropolitan.

But there are always gardens to see, of course.  Our hotel room on the 11th floor overlooked this rooftop garden.  When you see how many plants and containers are crammed into this little space, you know these people are dedicated gardeners.

Here are some similar gardens in the west Village.

But the real garden of the day was the High Line.  I’d been wanting to visit this rail-trail for years.  The second section opened earlier this summer, so we were able to walk the trail from 30th St. down to Gansevoort St. in the west Village. It was a clear, sunny day with low humidity and a light breeze, perfect for strolling along.

Our starting point was right by the Lincoln Tunnel entrance, a not very promising spot that was loaded with cars, trucks and confusing street patterns.  But we knew we were on the right track (ha) when we saw the trees waving above us in the distance.

We took the elevator, which featured a button surely found nowhere else.  Are you headed for G or HL?

Our first sight featured just about everything that makes the High Line so wonderful:  clean, thoughtful design using lots of wood; sun-loving, drought-tolerant, often native plants; and an elevation that gets you above the street but not so high that you’re removed from the life of the city.  Also, lots of places to sit and enjoy the view.

Here’s a look at what we saw.  Mouse over for captions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I foolishly asked one of the gardeners about maintenance, and she said firmly that this was NOT a low-maintenance garden, that despite its wild look it was carefully planned and took a lot of work.  Sorry!  I wasn’t sure if she was sick of this question or was just tired of weeding.

We didn’t see many birds or butterflies, but the bees were all over this plant (unknown to me).

It might be difficult to have your bedroom window looking out onto the High Line.  Here was one person’s stylish solution.

There’s plenty of art to be seen, from bird houses to this photo on the wall of a nearby building.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A plant list for August is here, so even though I couldn’t identify everything, there is hope.

We had a wonderful time, and I’d love to go back at other times of the year to watch it change.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Other People’s Gardens: Maine Edition

Maine in July was sunny, cool, misty, bright, rainy (but only at night), and altogether glorious. Our house in Cushing featured several beautiful borders, maintained by a pair of gardeners who chatted with me about the gardens.  Here’s a view with the St. George’s River in the background.  In the way of northern gardens, everything seems to be in bloom at the same time.  Here were day lilies, eryngium, sedums, and more.

 

This little garden by the side of the house had day lilies, Solomon’s seal, achillea, white columbine, balloon flower, and gloriously blooming lady’s mantle.

 

Here are the blooms.

Clearly, these plants are much happier in the cool, moist air of Maine than they are in my drought-ridden front garden.

 

 

My new sedum obsession was fed by this purple-leaved variety that reminded me of my New Zealand gardening friend.

 

 

 

 

 

More sedums – this one along the path on Monhegan.

 

This was a bit of a mystery plant.  The gardeners guessed Joe-Pye weed, not yet in full bloom, and I think they were right.

 

 

 

 

You can see a little better in this closeup of the flowers.

 

 

 

 

A few other shots of classic Maine borders, the first down the road from us, the second on Monhegan Island.  Note the gorgeous delphiniums and poppies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But the most gorgeous of all were the eryngium.  They had grown so prolifically that one of the gardeners’ major tasks was cutting them back and tying them up.  Here they are in the clear Maine light.

 

 

 

 

and here is a close-up of their purply-blue stems.

We saw lots of purple spiky flowers along the roadside.  Their form reminded us of lupines, but clearly it was too late for them, and these were the wrong color and leaf shape.  The gardeners told me they were purple loosestrife, a garden thug that actually seems fairly well-behaved here.

Several more beautiful wildflowers.  I think the first is spotted Joe Pye weed, the second may be water parsley,

and who knows about the third, with its antler-like bloom..  I bet Mom would have identified them right away.

Thoughtful Gardening

Robin Lane Fox is known for his books on the classical world, but for decades he’s written a gardening column for the Financial Times, collected here and arranged by season.  He comes across as a deeply conservative man who does not suffer fools gladly.  He scoffs at concerns about pesticides, encouraging readers to use them widely and to calm down about environmental concerns.  On the other hand, he frequently notes the longer hotter summers we’re experiencing now, so he’s hardly an ideologue.  Be careful if you’re his friend:  his essay on Rosemary Verey is a perfect example of cattiness disguised as admiration.  Not terribly likeable, but interesting.  My (library) copy is studded with bookmarks.

Gardens to visit:  Castello in Florence, accessible from the city on a number 28 bus.  “…the box parterre has charm and the wide range of lemon trees in their terra-cotta pots…are a stunning spectacle.”  The Villa Gamberaia, also in Florence (take the number 10 bus from the railway station), was described by Edith Wharton as “the most perfect example of the art of producing a great effect on a small scale.”  Has gorgeous views “fit to be included in a  great Florentine painting from the fifteenth century.”

Planting lore:  start lavender cuttings in August.  He recommends using a razor to make a clean cut, to root them in a mixture of 50% compost and Perlite, and to cut off the bottom of a plastic soda bottle to make a mini-greenhouse for the new cuttings.  I want to try this with my lavender in hopes of getting enough plants for a little hedge.

Which roses to choose:  pink-flowered Jacques Cartier can be pruned to about three feet and grows well in dry conditions, also features a second flush of bloom in fall.  Louise Odier has fragrant pink-rose flowers and flowers on and off through the summer (at least in England).  “The classic duo for dryness are the tall, scrambling Rose d’Amour and the thorny lower-growing Rose d’Orsay…fresh pink flowers…”

Plants to investigate:  “Cicerbita plumeria is an indestructible plant that gives great pleasure in high summer at a height of about four feet.”  Like chicory but with darker coloring, thrives in dry shade.  Other dry shade lovers include Symphytum cooperi and phlomis russeliana.  Try planting Clematis Petit faucon  with roses.  Blue Diadem cornflowers for the sunny bed?  Agrostemma Milas, with tall lilac pink flowers.

Miscellaneous:  He hates squirrels enough to include a recipe for them.  He refers to “blind” bulbs, those that send up leaves but do not flower (time to divide them).

His list of further reading is good enough to save.  I was pleased to see that one of them, a collection of Vita Sackville-West that he edited, is in my personal collection, thanks to Mom.

As always, we have to take English gardening books with a grain of salt.  Lane Fox’s definition of hot, dry summers is likely quite different from mine!