got soil?

Out Came the Sun

2012-02-10T14:52:00.003-05:00

Back when I was running garden maintenance in LA, my crews would laugh at me in the autumn because I refused to enter certain gardens without waving a stick before me. Apparently, autumn in LA is orb-weaver season, those webs were the size of wagon wheels, and those spiders all knew how tall I am! While I have the utmost respect for their architectural abilities I'm not what you'd call a fan, but neither do I scream and jump on tables when I see one in the room. Sometimes a curious fascination will make me stop and study a spider or its web in the garden, whence I can be heard muttering something profound and scientific like, "Eeew!"

So imagine the "ewww" which quickly became "oooohhh" when I read this news article about a golden cape woven of fabric made from the silk of spiders. I wasn't surprised since I'd been reading up on some of the activities amateur husbandmen (i.e. landed gentry with too much time on their hands) were up to on their estates back in the day, namely raising silk worms, but I wasn't aware that spider silk cloth was a common commodity in any age. Turns out it isn't. Requiring input from 1.5 million spiders over an eight year period plus the human skill involved would make this an obscenely spendy garment.

My favorite historical fiction series features as its heroine a time-traveling nurse who used spider webs as dressing for wounds, and scientists long ago learned that some spider silk is stronger than Kevlar (I believe there was talk of researching it for use in bullet proof vests, among other things), but to use it in the creation of a fashion piece? This I had to see.

I always considered spiders to be industrious, but this! One look and, like a fly caught in a web, I was hooked. If you aren't saying something like, "Wow!", there is something wrong with you and I'm not sure we can be friends any more (kidding). But let's put this into perspective: this cape is made from two metres of fabric using silk from 1.5 million (yes, million) Golden Orb-Weaver spiders (eew!). It's the females who produce the naturally golden silk, giving the woven cloth this cheery color. The entire process of herding the spiders and harvesting the silk then making the thread and weaving the cloth took eight years. I could go into it, but you get a much clearer picture by watching this video:

Isn't that amazing!? And the idea isn't a new one. Almost as fascinating as the cape itself were some of the books shown in the display, one of which is a couple hundred years old and features an illustration of a sort of pillory to hold the spider while its silk is wound onto a swift.

the alpaida latro spider held in place for silk extraction
raimondo maria de termeyer, opuscoli scientifici d’entomologia di fiscia e d’agricoltura dell’abate, milan, vol.1, plate vi. 1807
simon peers collection

Now, I've used swifts at the yarn shops to wind a skein of yarn and I'm here to tell you either that is one gigantic spider (eeww!), or that is one Lilliputian swift!

While ogling over the display I overheard several interesting comments such as, "poor spiders", and polite debates as to the ethics involved in collecting the silk. Whatever your stance, allow me to remind you that no spiders were injured in the making of this cape. Besides, if you want to look at it that way, what's so different from harvesting spider silk vs. silkworm silk? Silkworms are still bred for their silk in Asian countries. And it might be a bit of a stretch, but how about the practice of harvesting a sheep's wool or a bird's feathers - practices that have been employed by humans for thousands of years to our great benefit (I just finished knitting a merino/mohair blend scarf and it is so warm and cozy. Ever so much better than acrylic.). Yes, there are humane and inhumane methods and I admit to taking an interest in the yarn companies whose products I purchase to ensure the sheep are well treated but all that aside, let's focus on the artistic skill involved here. You have to admit this is an astoundingly beautiful piece of work that took many, many people with mad skills a long time to achieve!

I also liked that the embroidery design was inspired (inspidered?) by myth, folklore, and fairy tales, which were beautifully presented.

Detail of the full-size watercolor illustrating the pattern with selections of verse that inspired embroidery; this bit is from Emily Dickinson's A Spider Sewed at Night.

It gave me a whole new appreciation for our eight-legged friends (so long as they keep their distance), and the ingenuity and creativity of our own race. It also inspired me to pick up that lace shawl I started knitting a few months ago:

Ginkgo shawlette (pattern available on Ravelry; photo © FHCreations)

While not quite spider silk, the yarn I'm using is a wool/silk blend and even just a few rows in, it so far feels soft and decadent. I'm definitely in a gold phase, confirmed by the daffodils on my desk. At least I don't have to swish a stick around to enjoy those!

Then You Saw It, Now You Don't

2012-02-02T08:29:00.004-05:00

Yesterday I spent some quality time in the computer lab downloading images of Kensington Gardens, my Historic Garden Project site, from Google Earth. Did you know you can go back in time on Google Earth? It's amazing! Just look:

Can't fool you, can I? That's actually a map of the gardens drawn circa 1736 by John Rocque. As you can see from my previous post, they were still working the kinks out of the road system back then, much less mastering the intricacies of aerial photography.

Here's how the gardens look from the air now:

And for a close up of the Palace:

This image is dated 2010 and you can see the fence and mobile construction offices, which are preparing for the new landscape work that's currently in process. More on that later.

But you really can go back in time on Google Earth, in this case, only to 1945:

I was really interested in features from previous historic layers so I started playing around and zooming in to see what, if anything, from the Rocque plan still existed. Obviously, the bason (now colorlessly and mathematically inaccurately called the Round Pond) can still be seen, as well as the Patte d'oie or goose-foot avenues radiating out from it. The Mount is gone, and the colorful flower gardens in front of the Orangery have been turfed over (yawn), as well as the amazing parterre designs north of the Palace. But check this out:

Can you see it?

It's a helicopter! Isn't that cool? I wonder who was visiting - could have been Will and Kate scoping the place out and choosing wallpaper (they're moving in to Great Aunt Margaret's pad next year, you know), or maybe it was one of the dignitaries or Obscenely Rich People who live in one of the mansions next door. One can only speculate. But isn't that cool - and not a little bit scary - that Google Earth is so zeroed in as to catch the image of a helicopter on the ground! Good thing the Germans didn't have this technology in the 1945, what?

Actually, as cool as the helicopter is, what you should have noticed, and what made me exclaim, "No frickin' way!" in the computer lab, are the tell-tale scars in the lawn of a long-lost design.

You should be seeing red

But wait - there's more! Here's another plan of the gardens circa 1705:

Notice the parterre design is slightly different than the 1736 plan. More contours in the middle square. Look what happens when you put it on top of the satellite image:

It's magic!

Wanna see that again?

Wow!

I'm not sure when the parterres were wiped out since they appear in their various iterations into the 1800's, the central portion above changing shape to a quadrant with a central basin at some point prior to 1860. And the area in the 1945 image shows tents, maybe? We know from documentation that soldiers were encamped in the gardens during the WW2. But the scars on the lawn! You can't see these tell tale impressions at ground level. Well, I couldn't, but that whole area is fenced off at the moment so I couldn't actually get down and sniff the ground to pick up the trail, so to say.

Being a garden historian is like being a garden detective, which is really loads of fun. We try to solve landscaping mysteries such as the Case of the Disappearing Parterres, which often just conjures up more questions like: When were the parterres turfed over and why? If there were practical (i.e. military) reasons, why weren't they restored afterward? In the new redesign being implemented east of the Palace now, why were the areas to the north and south of the building ignored? And finally, if it were up to me, what would I conserve/restore/recreate and why?

Well, that was fun, wasn't it? How much you wanna bet you all go scrambling to load Google Earth searching for evidence of lost landscapes! Happy hunting!

Take Me Thence, Country Roads

2012-01-31T17:23:00.001-05:00

A man called Oliver Goldsmith once said, "life is a journey that must be traveled no matter how bad the roads and accommodations." I bet he was a riot at parties. I can just imagine him and Robert Frost going at it: "Tell me, Ollie, If your road diverged in a yellow wood, which path would you choose?"

I've come to realize that my dissertation could just as easily be about travel as it is about gardens. After all, the gardens I'm studying are spread throughout England and were created over 300 years ago. One had to get to them somehow and in our age of easy travel, we can't truly know what an undertaking it was to venture even 20 miles back then. I was contemplating this fact when Knightly came to mind. You know, the hero of Jane Austen's Emma:

*sniff* Makes me cry every time! I mean, he rode through the rain! To us, spoiled as we are by cars, motorbikes, and busses zipping around on macadam*, that means nothing. So he rode through the rain. Big deal! He got a little wet; so what? So what!? Oh, my dear, I despair of you! Permit me to recall another Austen character, Edward, who, upon returning to Barton Cottage to profess his undying love for Eleanor and, with understandable awkwardness at the beginning of their meeting, satisfies the youngest sister's inquiries by informing them that "the roads were very dry". Travel, my dear, was a very big deal back then!

All these Austen shenanigans happened a hundred years after my heroine traveled around England, logging 1,045 miles in 1697, of which she 'did not go above a hundred in the Coach', meaning she rode a horse. Sidesaddle. Imagine! The state of the roads was major news, no doubt much talked of at all the inns and health spas, and the state of them was appalling, if you must know. Even by the time Edward and Knightly were riding to their fates, roads were perilous. Only city streets were paved with cobbles (well, some cities), and the country roads were sometimes 'pitched' with stones dug up from an obliging field*. Most were dirt tracks seldom maintained, so if you were traveling by coach on a road in an area known for heavy clay soil, in the rain, say, the coach wheels would leave deep ruts that dried into hard ridges, making the roads even worse. In a time when mineral and coal mining were major industries, it wasn't uncommon to encounter an uncovered pit in the road which could swallow your horse (and you with it). And if you lived in a marshy area, roads could be rendered non-existent in a heavy rain or flood. Often times you had to hire a local guide if you were travelling abroad (which in the early 1700's could be defined as anywhere outside a 5 mile radius from your home) because the roads were so bad - or so hard to find - that you could end up hopelessly lost. Or hopelessly dead. Which is why you should be greatly impressed that Knightly rode through the rain.

Look, I'll show you:

This is a soil map of Surrey, where most of the action in Emma takes place (yes, I'm a geek, now pay attention). Notice that the predominant soil texture is 'loamy' and the profile indicates 'slow permeable, seasonably wet, acid loams and clays'. Good stuff for the garden, to be sure, not so good for the roads because, as the chart shows, drainage is bad. I think it's safe to say that in Jane Austen's day, when it rained, the roads in Surrey either flooded or became a muddy mess. Rivulets could create small canyons in the road if it wasn't well pitched, and if it flooded enough the stones could have been lifted right off the road leaving a gaping hole masked by muddy water which is what happened to my heroine Celia Fiennes as she travelled the roads in Cornwall:

"Here Indeed I met with...more lanes and a deeper clay road, which by the raine the night before had made it very dirty and full of water; in many places in the road there are many holes and sloughs where ever there is clay ground, and when by raines they are filled with water its difficult to shun Danger; here my horse was quite down in one of these holes full of water but by the good hand of God's Providence which has allwayes been with me ever a present help in tyme of need, for giving him a good strap he flounc'd up againe, tho' he had gotten quite down his head and all, yet did retrieve his feete and gott cleer off the place with me on his back."

Knightly could have lamed his horse*! Or met with highwaymen - ohmygosh, I haven't even mentioned highwaymen! It wasn't just a matter of trotting through a spring shower and getting his cravat a little damp, he could have met with major mishap and perilous threats to life and limb! By riding so recklessly to his beloved, he was risking his life for the mere hope of a chance to win her. This is serious stuff! Oh, that a man would ride through the rain for me!

Kind of puts a whole new spin on the story, doesn't it? History is so cool that way; it doesn't just tell you how things were then, it throws new light on what you're interested in now. And it makes me rather grateful that the only real issue I have upon commencing my garden tour this spring is deciding whether to go by car or train.

But I have to ask: if you came to a fork in the road*, would you take it?

*mac·ad·am: /məˈkadəm/

Noun:

Broken stone, bound with tar or bitumen, used for surfacing roads.
A stretch of road with such a surface.

*Bonus points if you caught the other two Jane Austen references and can name the movie from which they come.

*Yogi Berra said it first.

Out With the New, In With the Old

2012-01-06T23:57:00.028-05:00

Well, the holidays are over, the tree is packed up, boxes of ornaments stored in the garage, the unnecessary, fattening, and over-indulgent parade of sweets have been eaten (mostly by me; I was trying to save the rest of the family from themselves, a purely selfish motivation you must understand) and the last of the bowl games are being played. It's officially 2012.

The years of late have gotten rather good at outdoing themselves so I have no reason to suppose this one will be any different. In fact, it's already shaping up to be a memorable one. For one thing, I have a Master's dissertation to write. Fifteen-thousand words (minimum) and a hay cart full of appendices ought to do it, with loads of maps and images thrown in for good measure. And as my friend Jane Austen is so good at saying, "If adventures will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad", which is exactly what I intend to do by following in the footsteps (or should I say hoof prints) of Celia Fiennes.

Celia Fiennes, for those of you who are as unaware of her existence and contribution to history as I formerly was, is the first woman - if not the first person - to visit every county in England in the 1690's. No mean feat, especially since most women of her time rarely ventured more than a few miles from home, if that. And she traveled primarily on horseback. Alone ("alone" being defined, in 17th century terms, as having a small retinue of servants and a guide to accompany her). And she kept a diary. So not only do I get to be a voyager, I get to be a voyeur. Whoever says history isn't cool obviously hasn't given much thought to this particular avenue of study because, let's face it, reading people's diaries and private correspondence in the name of 'research' is wicked fun!

What is so interesting to me about Ms. Fiennes is that, as a woman of noble birth, she was able to visit many fellow nobles' houses and these noble houses had gardens and estates befitting the owner's, er, nobility, and Celia wrote about them. Other than Pepys and Defoe, there aren't many travel diaries like hers around, especially from that time, so her observations provide valuable details about what the gardens were like then, to say nothing of England's culture, society, economy, and industry. Combining research of her prose with the engravings of the estates taken at about the same time, and I'll argue that for the next eight months I've got the best job in the country. And the best part...I'll be visiting 20 or so of those gardens in the course of my studies (and many, many more while I'm at it, but those 20 will be the focus of my research). It'll be torture!

The garden visiting will begin in the Spring. Right now I'm doing background research, starting with a book about travel in the 17th century in order to better understand the magnitude of Celia's accomplishment as a traveller. Being a keen traveller myself, I've become rather fond of this paragraph from the book's Introduction:

"It is in wanderings afar that we now visualize the world; swift smooth-running trains or the slower but less trammelled motors; palatial floating hotels, carrying us to scenes and climes alien enough to our own to give us pleasurable sensations of novelty and such adventures great or small as, according to the intrepidity of our natures, may lure us from our fireside. A few years, may-be, and we shall fly to the uttermost ends of the earth, and Yokohama will be no farther than were Launceston or Bodmin to the weary traveller of three centuries ago".

This book was written in 1925. Little did the author know that nearly a century later I would be reading her book, and that I would be doing so on a jet plane flying from the US to London (for the tenth time in less than a decade)! Intrepidity, indeed!

I hope you have as many wonders to look forward to in this new year, and may you be lured from the comfort of your fireside to wander afar, seeking those pleasurable sensations of novelty and adventures of all shapes and sizes. If you're new to my blog, take a moment to read this prayer penned by Sir Francis Drake, which I've adopted as my New Year prayer. And if you're in London, go see the life-size replica of Sir Drake's ship. Afterward, hop on the Tube or a Routemaster and ponder the miracle of travel...

A Road Map of 1689
From Ogilby and Morgan's Pocket Book of Roads

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-24T11:08:00.000-05:00

University Website Error's

2011-12-18T03:24:00.003-05:00

This is the result of higher education. I shake my head. Clearly this person didn't occupy their English class. At least they own their mistakes! (I wonder if Lynne Truss offers group therapy sessions? If so, these people should stop dithering and sign up! Sticklers Unite!!! Hand me that red pen, would you?)

Click the picture. It'll be easier to read if you do. Go on, then.

Bundle Up! It's cold out there! (with an excerpt from "Little Tree" by E.E. Cummings)

2011-12-18T02:33:00.000-05:00

"...then when you're quite dressed
you'll stand in the window for everyone to see
and how they'll stare!
oh but you'll be very proud
and my little sister and i will take hands
and looking up at our beautiful tree
we'll dance and sing..."

Go Hug A Tree

2011-12-03T05:59:00.041-05:00

I've never been one to go in with the type of person who would chain themselves to a tree to prevent another person doing harm to that tree but I sympathize with their point of view. Anti-treeists (aka suburban developers, corporate monopolies, uneducated homeowners, and diabolical amateurs with chain saws) obviously have some deep seated issues with trees. I'm not a psychologist so I can't speak to their apparent tree-hating tendencies, but I think it has more to do with lack of education about trees than an outward hate of their leafy benevolence. Even those who are responsible for their planting on streets and in plazas often don't know what the habit of the tree they're planting is, and then are stumped when the tree does what trees are supposed to do.

Trees help us in ways most people are blissfully unaware of, which is really quite a shocking revelation given all the current hype about climate change, carbon footprints, etc. Most people probably don't know that 1000 trees remove 100 tons of CO2 per year, or that a single mature tree can release enough oxygen back into the atmosphere to support two human beings. That's to say nothing of their biodiversity or aesthetic value. Where would we be without the humble tree? Yet the tree must be one of the most abused beings of the plant world.

Just this week my hometown was ravaged by unusually high (as in hurricane force) Santa Ana winds. My brother said he saw Toto, Dorothy's house, and the Wicked Witch hurl past the window, and I don't doubt it. Seeing the destruction caused by downed trees in photos on the news was surreal, but I can't help but wonder if many of those trees would still be standing had they been properly cared for? Many of the victims were street trees and I'd wager ill-advised choice of species and method of planting had a lot to do with it. Check it out:

All three images are of the same unfortunate van under the same unfortunate tree. Notice the roots (what roots?). My point exactly! The AP caption said the tree is a Eucalyptus, and while many species of Eucs have a narrow profile, the roots of a healthy specimen should extend will beyond the drip line. While Eucalyptus roots can venture deep in sandy soil, which much of LA has, they are commonly planted as So Cal street trees because of their "drought tolerance" and not given much water, so their roots stay shallow instead of burrowing deep. No wonder they toppled. Here, the roots have been pigeonholed into the space between the sidewalk and street, and actually look as if one whole side of the root ball has been shorn to make way for the paving.

This one tells the same story and I wonder which came first, the tree or the retaining wall? I once had a Botany instructor who told of watching his neighbors across the street plant a Redwood, a Deodar cedar, and a Coast Live Oak - successively, and in spite of his warnings - not three feet from their front door then wonder why each failed to perform to their expectations. They apparently claimed they didn't know that these trees could get so big. And who's to blame for that? I lived in a part of LA with The Arboretum, Huntington Botanical Gardens, and Descanso Gardens all within a 15 minute drive. One of my Landscape Architecture instructors advised us to take clients to any of the three when planning their landscapes so they could see how big a mature tree gets. Most urban dwellers assume, because the Mow & Blow lop them into lollies, that trees are shaped like a child's drawing. The biology of the tree is rarely considered in suburbia, hence the chaos and destruction after 100mph winds hit town

Hugging the largest recorded white oak in PA

My Garden History tutor argues that Garden Designers should also plan cities, as they once did. At the very least, every municipality should employ a team of qualified tree experts to monitor and care for the trees in their jurisdiction. And every homeowner should be required to take a class on tree care (if for no other reason than to learn to protect the property value from which trees can add or detract). I can't tell you how many times I tried to convince a client that it was worth the extra money to hire an experienced arborist rather than an unlicensed "tree expert". Only after such a villain offered to trim a client's valuable oaks at the wrong time of year did the client capitulate to my reasoning, and that was only because the client knew a bit about when to prune oaks. Most didn't, hired the villain, and lived to rue the day.

I hope all my So Cal friends are faring well after the storm, and have suffered no damage to home or person as a result of our fallen flora. And I hope that the city planners will see this as an opportunity to engage in a new tree planting movement throughout the state, with the right tree in the right place. My experience tells me that while CA is ahead of the game with emissions requirements, hydrogen powered vehicles, etc., it's sadly behind the times with its tree care practices. Sometimes to move forward, you have to go back, and I would like to see more attention given to educating the next generation about the physiology of the plant world, which would surely go as far as technology in arresting the global climate catastrophe. After all, this isn't a new issue. It's been in the social conscious for quite a while now...

So there. Now, go hug a tree!

(photos of LA tree damage from AP news service)

Edited to note: I was Googling images of the wind damage closer to where I lived near Pasadena and saw many photos of downed trees posted to blogs penned (typed?) by locals. One such showed a recumbant Ficus across Green Street (looked like Green St. anyway, and I think there are / were Ficus trees lining the street). What the poor tree lacked in roots was more than amply compensated for in the dense canopy, which no doubt contributed to its blustery demise. The thing that really caught my attention was the blog author's assertion that the tree was a Eucalyptus when it was, most assuredly, a Ficus. Which goes to prove my point: suddenly everyone is a tree expert. Without knowledge or training in botany or the physiology of plants, one can confidently point at a Ficus and proclaim it something else. And many would believe it.

Imagine if I tried to pass my tree ident exams that way! Why, I could channel Magritte and declare, "C'est ne pas une arbre".

Happy Thanksgiving!

2011-11-23T15:57:00.000-05:00

Stanley Spencer (1891 – 1959) Turkeys, 1946

William Morris's Earthly Paradise

2011-11-17T05:20:00.000-05:00

I just remembered that I forgot to write about the garden of The Red House after posting about the house itself! Oops! Guess I got carried away with all the art in the Middle Ages and the sparkly gilding and flashing water of Louis XIV's court (I'm still hung up on his shoes - I can't even wear heels like that!).

Since we've just flown through the Victorian mixed style garden in our lessons and are fast approaching the Arts and Crafts movement, now seems a good time to correct that mistake. Herewith I present to you William Morris's garden:

There are actually two layers to the garden as you see it now: the garden as it was in the time of Morris, and after it was expanded by subsequent owners. The plan above shows what the garden probably looked like when Morris lived here. The entire property was bounded by a red brick wall - most of which remains and the short spur you can see in the upper right of the drawing is still there to mark the original boundary. The paths around the house at this time were likely gravel or tamped soil, not the brick that's there now, and my classmates and I theorized on the probability that the paths were laid with bricks from the old wall when it was pulled down. Kudos to them for recycling!

The path around the house is bordered by a lavender hedge with a rectangular lawn where the family no doubt played croquet. Against the house are espaliered pear and apple trees, most original but some have been lost over the years. I was also intrigued by the three square planting beds in the brick containing Passiflora on metal supports. The vines undoubtedly received heat radiating from the wall, because I couldn't find any other explanation for a passion vine to be blooming so frivolously in the middle of a chilly autumn morning in England! When I was growing up our back fence was covered with passion vine, which was the host food for Gulf Fritillary butterflies (Agraulis vanillae), and the fence was covered with chrysalis (chrysali?) each fall followed by the delightful silver and orange cat's eyes flitting about, so I have a soft spot for this plant!

The Morris garden had a small orchard and from I was told, the surrounding area at the time would have been very rural with agricultural fields and orchards so he incorporated part of an existing orchard into the garden when the house was built. (There are traces of that in So Cal, where citrus orchards once stretched into the horizon. When the houses went up, each back yard usually contained one or two of the trees that were left after the bulldozer had its way).

Click to embiggen

This plan shows the garden after expansion to include a veg garden (I want it!), more orchard space, a wilderness or shrubbery walk around the perimeter with tall trees planted as the suburbs came to keep prying eyes out, and planting beds on the east side of the house.

The scarecrow's name is Will, in case you were wondering!

Apples picked from the orchard are offered for sale to visitors

We arrived at The Red House on a chilly morning just as the sun was beating through the morning mist, and as we gathered in the new orchard to discuss some lessons and the day's plan I noticed pockets of long grass with shorter paths mowed between the trees in a meandering fashion. Several bee hives were tucked in the corner by the wall and a bench offered a nice spot in the sun to rest. It was a very romantic spot in the garden at that time of day, and you almost forgot your were in the middle of suburbia with all the birdsong around.

One part of the garden that intrigued me was this clearing as you walk to the tea shop (part of the old stables).

Mr. Morris was into Medievalism in a big way, and from my reading I learned that to Medieval man, when all around was chaos and danger (hence the castle walls and enclosed gardens), a forest clearing was seen as a refuge in the dark and creepy wilderness, much as an oasis was for the desert nomad. The opening in the leafy canopy gave a view to the sky and an invisible line linking heaven and earth. It made me wonder, then, if this had been old Will's intention when he built the garden? The clearing wasn't on the 1862 plan, and as far as I could gather, is now in the place were the small enclosure is to the north of the house near the stable building used to be. Things that make me go, "Hmmmmmmm..."

Another thing that made me go, "Hmmm" was this addition to the back of the kitchen yard, clearly not in keeping with the style of the house. Remember that this area was once rural, before all the houses crept in, and the Red House was used in WW2 for refugees from the Blitz. The additions here are air raid shelters. Fat lot of good they'd do under a direct hit, seeing as Bexleyheath is square inside Bomb Alley, but here they are. There was talk of tearing them down and restoring this part of the garden but given that such structures are rarely seen and are in themselves historical artifacts, the National Trust has decided to keep them, a decision of which I approve. They don't detract from the garden, I feel, and lend an air of mystery and history to the fabric of the house. In fact, they provide yet another surface to decorate:

The Red House was acquired by the National Trust in 1999 and we all agreed that the garden didn't "feel" like a NT garden, for whatever that's worth. This one retained its character and charm and one could easily understand why Morris fancied calling it the 'Pilgrim's Rest' when he learned that an old Roman road passed nearby.

Next week in class we'll be studying the Arts and Crafts garden in more detail, so my visit to Great Dixter's Christmas fair next weekend is perfectly timed. Have I mentioned I love my work!?

What a Garden Historian Does

2011-11-13T17:33:00.000-05:00

When someone asks what I'm studying and I tell them, the usual response is for them to repeat the subject in a tone of some surprise sprinkled with doubt. Sometimes they emphasize the word 'garden' as in "Garden history?" indicating a grasp of the word 'history' and a decided uncertainty as to whether or not gardens have any. They do, indeed, I say, which is then followed by the inevitable question, "What does a garden historian do?"

Just one tiny part of what we do is study how and why a garden changed from this...

Her Majesty's Royal Palace at Kensington, from 'Survey of London' engraved by Johannes Kip (c.1652-1722), 1730 (watercolor tinting is modern)

to this....

Charles Bridgeman's plan, circa 1733

to this....

Plan of Kensington Gardens and Kensington Town drawn by John Rocque, 1756

to this....

Current map of the gardens and park

to this...

Design by Todd Longstaffe-Gowan, 2011

At least it's one tiny piece of what I'll be doing next year as part of my coursework. Exciting, hey!? Right now I have to get back to writing that word and image study on the English Landscape Movement...after all, given that history begins with the last moment, a garden historian's work is never at an end*.

*I held John Evelyn's Kalendarium Hortense, or Gardiner's Almanack, printed in 1664 from which this quote is taken, in my own hands last week. My friend Scott Daigre said it best: Kid. Candystore.

If It Ain't Baroque....

2011-11-10T19:14:00.001-05:00

I know, that one's as old as dirt, which is probably why the style of garden design during the Baroque era is more commonly referred to as French Formal Style (particularly by those in France!). It is, in fact, a style of garden design that originated in France and came to a glorious apogee during the reign of the Sun King, Louis the Fourteenth (or XIV for those of you who prefer Roman numerals). One thing's for sure, the man's taste in fashion was outrageous !

Louis XIV, the Sun King

Actually, the madness all started back in 1661 in a little chateau on the outskirts of Paris owned by an unfortunate man named Nicolas Fouquet. I say unfortunate because he was essentially a tax collector and we all know how popular they are, and also because he made one huge, foolish mistake (though his intentions were good).

Nicolas used his wealth to build a rather lavish home, and he hired the Three Musketeers of the design world to do it. Architect LeVau, painter LeBrun, and gardener LeNotre all conspired together to build what was then the most magnificent, most opulent, most exuberant, ostentatious, sumptuous, posh, recherché, très scandaleux, etcetera estate that a French noble ever clapped eyes on. It took almost 20 years from start to finish and by the time it was done, Fouquet was rightfully pleased and did what any house-proud member of the King's court would do: he threw a house-warming party! (oops!)

Vaux-le-Vicomte

Back then it wasn't uncommon for a member of the nobility to dedicate a special room or wing of the house to the monarchy in the hopes that the royal chambers would be graced by the sovereign's presence. Fouquet was no different, and part of his little chateau at Vaux-le-Vicomte was indeed intended for the King.

Well! You can imagine old Louis' response. After all, he was the King - Le Roi Soleil! - the center of the French universe around whom all else orbited, and all he had to show for his polestar position was a swampy old hunting lodge that his dad left him. So he did what any outraged, absolutist Sun King with stellar footwear would do: he had poor Fouquet arrested on trumped up charges and thrown in jail for the rest of his life, then took the design team and most of the interior and exterior decorations and ordered them to do it up one better at Versailles.

Versailles circa 1701

And thus the Baroque/French Formal Style/Louis XIV style of garden design was born. But Louis didn't stop there. He had a message to put across (as if parading all that wealth and grandeur around in the form of an amazing palace and seemingly infinite garden weren't enough). This is where I could bore you with all the elements of the Baroque style and discourse endlessly about axial symmetry, parterres de broderie, bosquets, fountains, canals, theatres, topiary, clipped hedges, and plants forced into corsets, all going to show the extent of Louis's power and control over nature, but, with your indulgence, I'd much rather talk about the frogs.

Closeup of the Latona Fountain, frogs and all

They're much more than a French delicacy (though I wasn't brave enough to try them when I was in country). I mentioned the water-spouting amphibians in my last post and alluded to the fact that they weren't just decorative. A kind reader with an enquiring mind asked what they were all about. I will tell you, mon ami!

One of the things that was en vogue in garden design of this time was the use of classical motifs in the form of statuary and ornament, a trend surviving from Italian Renaissance gardens. Louis had them all over his garden, from the Apollo fountain (Apollo was the Roman sun god) to the Latona Fountain, which represents an episode from Ovid's Metamorphosis. In that tale, Latona, the mother of Apollo and Diana, suffered indignities from the peasants at Lycia. She was so outraged that she turned them all into frogs. King Louis' mom, likewise, suffered the disrespect of the people and the fountain was his response. Basically, it's saying "Don't mess with this Apollo or bad things will happen to you". Fouquet's arrest and disgrace would have been clear in every one's memory, and Louis wasn't one to shy away from exercising his divine right as King and Absolute Monarch when it came to (mis)interpretations of the law. He was the law, and if you crossed him, you were in for it.

Thanks to the Renaissance's revival of classic literature and mythology, people would have understood this allusion pretty clearly. Sadly, I think, much of that understanding has been lost. But now you, mon cher, know the fountain's secrets and can go out into the world and dazzle them with your je ne sais quoi!

And that, mon loutre, is the significance behind the frogs. Which made me wonder, when I saw the same motif on the fountain in the Italian Water Garden at Longwood, who Mr. DuPont had a beef with, or was he just enjoying the joke?

That, mon petit chou, is for you to ponder. And with that, I bid you adieu!

Ribbit!

Hortus Conclusus

2011-10-31T19:05:00.001-04:00

In the last month I have been thrown in the path of great literature covering architecture, landscape, art, history, and gardens (or it's been thrown in mine, however you want to look at it). Just last week, while innocently studying the gardens of the Roman Empire, I met a guy named Vitruvius. Back in the 1st century BC he had some pretty cool things to say about the education of an architect, which you can read by clicking here. I daresay that what he said then applies to today's landscape architect or designer, indeed to historians and teachers of said disciplines, as well. He sayeth thusly (and I condense thusly):

1. The architect (landscape architect, garden designer, historian, etc.) should be equipped with knowledge of many branches of study and varied kinds of learning, for it is by his judgement that all work done by the other arts is put to test.

2. Neither natural ability without instruction nor instruction without natural ability can make the perfect artist. Let him (or her, ahem) be educated, skillful with the pencil, instructed in geometry, know much history (emphasis mine), have followed the philosophers with attention, understand music, have some knowledge of medicine, know the opinions of the jurists, and be acquainted with astronomy and the theory of the heavens.

This struck a chord with me because the more I study Garden History, the more obvious it becomes that I need to be a student of all history: art, architecture, social, cultural, military - you name it - for all of these things inform garden design in any given era.

This is also why, some years ago, I sat beside myself in a class on garden history while the instructor used this image in his lecture on Medieval gardens, then proceeded to get it all wrong.

Paradiesgärtlein (Little Garden of Paradise), by Upper Rhenish Master c. 1410

Let me 'splain.

What we have here is a painting completed in the first decades of the 15th century depicting certain illustrious and heavenly personages pleasantly employed in a walled garden, or hortus conclusus, typical of the type found in castle gardens during the Middle Ages. It's not a big painting, barely larger than a standard letter-size sheet of paper. That right there should tell us something, i.e. that it wasn't intended for ostentatious display, and probably hung in someone's living room over the mantelpiece or other prominent place where the owner could gaze on it in meditative contemplation.

Don't judge a canvas by its size, because this one is bursting with symbolism and stories. If you were a person in the Middle Ages you would instantly grasp their meaning, even if you were illiterate (which most people then were). To fully understand the symbolism behind the painting and what it represents, we have to understand something of the time in which it was produced and the audience who might have been gazing on it, for this painting wasn't intended to be simply looked at, it was meant to be read.

So, for the When: the worst was (almost) over and by 1410 the sun was setting on the Dark Ages, the world poised and waiting for the dawn of a new age. The church was the unifying cultural and educational influence, with monks and priests being the scholars of the dwindling population, which was being wiped out to the tune of one-in-three by the Black Death. People were spiritually bereft, and it was the Church's job to spread the gospel message of Christianity.

"May He who Illuminated this, Illuminate me"

Which leads us to How: as I mentioned, the average person in 1400 couldn't read. This is where all those amazing illuminated manuscripts come in. (But you just said people couldn't read? Ah! It makes me wonder...can it be argued that the Medieval Church invented the graphic novel?)

The printing press won't be invented for another 20 or so years and even then it would be at least another decade before Johannes printed only 180 copies of his Bible, so even though everyone went to church none carried Bibles the way we do today (to say nothing of having a smart phone app to fall back on). To put it simply, the message was delivered by the priest in the pulpit and illustrated by the windows and paintings in the church.

And you thought all that stained glass was just for decoration!

Detail from Little Garden of Paradise

Art of the Middle Ages was replete with religious symbolism. The enclosed garden itself was a symbol of the Virgin Mary's purity and holiness, as the wall kept out all the diabolical things that were on the other side. Indeed, a symbol of evil can be seen in our painting in the form of a little black devil sitting obediently at the feet of the Archangel Michael, clearly vexed at not being permitted to wreak havoc on this little paradise. Nearby is a dragon at the feet of its slayer, saintly Sir George, who slew the dragon to free a virginal princess. The devil and the dragon have no power here.

Even the flowers had symbolic meanings associated with them, and were painted with such careful detail that botanists and horticultural enthusiasts have been able to identify them. The Language of Flowers was alive and well in the Middle Ages so it would have come as no surprise to you, you poor illiterate Medieval peasant farmer, that the little devil is sitting on a patch of periwinkle which, as everyone knows, is capable of warding off evil spirits.

So even though you couldn't read you could understand pictures and, thanks to the diligence of the church, you would have been well-versed in the stories of the Bible and would have known who Mary, Jesus, the Heavenly Host, and the Saints all were. Not only that, you would have been able to identify them by sight and would have known the stories and legends surrounding them.

So how does all this information affect garden design today? In oh, so many ways, and it sure affects how much we can decipher of garden design of the past. Most people now would look at this painting and think it shows a pretty Medieval garden with Mary reading a book while Baby Jesus plucks on a harp with the nanny, and they would be totally missing the point (perhaps this where the aforementioned garden history instructor erred in his ways which makes me want to ask the same question that Indiana Jones did: "Didn't you ever go to Sunday School!?").

On into modern times, gardens have been designed with art and architecture that convey symbolic messages to visitors either for their entertainment or as a device to communicate the owner's wealth, prestige, or political standing (the frogs around the Latona fountain at Versailles - not just ornamental amphibians spouting water, no sireebub!). If we, as garden makers, do not endeavor to become "equipped with knowledge of many branches of study and varied kinds of learning", we will lose the ability to create, much less conserve or restore, gardens with cultural and historic significance. Even worse, we will be ill-equipped to teach those coming after us and in a few generations we'll be no better off than the ignorant provincials of the Middle Ages. At least they knew how to read pictures.

Right. That's it for tonight. Now I'm off to France, and the Baroque court of King Louis XIV (that man did have amazing taste in footwear, didn't he!?). Wonder what kinds of surprises we'll find there....

More Color, Please

2011-10-21T05:41:00.002-04:00

I just realized something. I just realized I've been a historical conservationist much longer than I thought. You see, in another life long, long ago, I was a Homeowner. The home I owned was a 1910's Craftsman bungalow with a wrap-around porch, built-in china cabinet, picture rails in every room, and an inglenook. It had been "upgraded" in the 1950's with pink and blue tile in the bathroom, French doors in the dining room were replaced with sliders, and the kitchen was remodeled, eliminating the roll-away bed that lived below the built-in china cabinet as well as blocking the door to the basement stairs (who's bright idea was that!?). The changes didn't fit, and they made me twitch, so I immediately decided to restore the house to its original character. I also had grand plans for the garden, but the road of life has its unexpected turns and now my house belongs to someone else. I hope they appreciate it as much as I did.

When I bought the house the walls had been painted white and the whole place was rather cold and lifeless. In my giddy, uneducated, new homeowner state, I bounced down to the paint store where I was introduced to a whole new world in the form of the Arts and Crafts color palette. There were actually paint chips in colors common to the Craftsman home of the 1910's and '20s, with names inspired by nature like 'Acorn Yellow', 'Bark', 'California Redwood', 'Sage'. I was like a kid in a candy store!

Traditional Craftsman colors

I started looking through design magazines focused on Craftsman homes for ideas and decided on a few different colors: a sagey green for the living room, a warm glowing chamois for the dining room, two shades of lavender for the bedroom, and a spicy paprika-like color for the office that changed from chocolate-raspberry in dark corners to a rusty red in the light. Armed with a can of olive green paint and a brush, I started in the inglenook. That was the day the house came alive.

On either side of the fireplace were twin stained glass windows. The windows had been painted shut and the colors of the flower motif in the glass were drab. But the second I added the olive paint to the walls, they dazzled! It was as if the house was opening it's eyes after a long slumber. When the painting was finished the rooms no longer felt cold, they felt warm and homey. I have loathed the glaring starkness of bare white walls ever since.

Little did I know that the Arts & Crafts Movement began over 150 years ago in a little suburb of London called Bexleyheath. William Morris built a house here, and it is he who started the decorating and textile craze that became Arts & Crafts, almost by accident. His philosophy spilled into the garden, too, and examples of the Arts & Crafts Garden style can be seen in English gardens at Great Dixter, Sissinghurst, Hidcote, and the homes of fellow bungalow owners in California.

Imagine my curiosity when I learned I would be visiting Morris's Red House with my Historic Garden Conservation class, and envisioning the colorful interior. Imagine my dismay when I stepped inside and saw bare white walls!

They weren't always that way, I learned. The National Trust only recently acquired The Red House in 2003 and it was a previous owner who white-washed the original warmth of the walls away. The heathens!

The pianoforte in the upstairs living room, with a section of the original wall color revealed.

Our visit began with a wander around the garden, which I'll write about next time, then we were treated to a tour by a knowledgeable guide who had been friends of the last owners of the house. He knew his Morris history, and really helped paint a mental picture of what the house would have looked like when the Morris family lived there and had streams of artist friends visiting and creating. I wanted to ask why he didn't stop his friends from their destructive acts and throw the white paint out? Everyone knows, friends don't let friends use 'eggshell'.

Our tour guide, pointing out the portraits of family and friends painted by Morris on this settle in the front hall

The Red House was built in 1859-60 by Morris's Oxford friend Philip Webb. It takes its name from the brick exterior, not yet in fashion for domestic buildings of the 19th century. Inside, Morris and Friends set about creating wall paintings, window treatments in the form of stained and painted glass, and handmade furniture to fill the house. None of the wallpaper for which Morris is known would have been hung in the house because he had not yet started his textile company, but he began designing the patterns while living here.

Painted glass window in the side hall done by Morris's friend, artist Edward Burne-Jones

"Fate and Love"

Morris found inspiration in his studies of medievalism and I'm currently deep into writing a word and image study on a Medieval garden. To fully understand the message of the image I'm studying required me to look up the various saints and their associated legends, so I was quite proud of myself when I recognized Saint Catherine holding her wheel in this stained glass window!

Another sin committed by the previous owners was to cover up William Morris's wall decor in the upstairs living room with white paneling. I noticed the paint chipped edges of a section of paneling and wondered what that was about when the tour guide explained and opened the panels to reveal a colorful flower motif behind. Had they no shame!?

In an upstairs bedroom hidden behind a closet is a faded wall painting began by Elizabeth Siddal, the wife of Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Depicting a woman in sad repose, it's a far cry from the gaily painted nymph on the closet door of the child's room at Charleston House, but you get the sense that the entire wall painting would have told a story, not to mention livening up the room, and I was curious to know what that story was or would have been (Elizabeth died before the painting was finished).

Viewing the interior of the house brought to mind the same questions we face when considering the conservation of an historic garden. While the Red House is famous because of William Morris, there were other owners and occupants during the house's history, and the law of the land gave them the right to make whatever changes they wanted (grumble, grumble). So the dilemma faced by every conservationist is whether to maintain, repair, restore, or conserve. And when you're talking about historical layers, which one do you choose?

In my own house I chose to keep the faded pink and blue bathroom tile because it was in good condition, felt retro, and was cost-prohibitive to replace. One might argue the upgrade is a good representative of the type of "updates" that were commonly made to old houses in the 1950's, and should be maintained as a sample of '50s decor. A purist would restore back to the original. In the case of the Red House, I lean toward purity and originality. The Red House is billed as the home that was designed and built for William Morris, founder of the Arts and Crafts Movement, yet the interior does not represent his design philosophy. I would guess that most people familiar with his designs expect to see them covering the walls of his home, not the stark whiteness that glares at you when you enter. In that respect, I would argue in favor of restoring the interior by removing the white paint. Perhaps it's too costly? Perhaps since the National Trust only recently acquired the house, it's on their to-do list?
Indeed, the only part of the place where I could approve of changes made by previous owners was in the garden, which was enlarged from Morris's day yet retains a continuity and character that is fitting with the style of the house. And there's a cat! I heartily approve of cats in the garden!

On a side note, and as a demonstration of just how much life color adds to a place, here's a photo of some rather unexpected gifts bestowed upon me by my classmates for taking on a beast of an editing job for a group project. I wasn't expecting anything in return, but the flowers are doing a wonderful job of cheering my dismal little student cell, greeting me with their smiles and flirty petals when I return from a long slog in the library. Possibly my favorite thing about it is the fact that I don't have a vase and had to put the flowers in my cafetiere - look how great the colors work together! The small painting is an oil pastel of a garden conservatory by my god-brother.

It just goes to prove what Morris said:

All rooms ought to look as if they were lived in, and to have so to say, a friendly welcome ready for the incomer. ~William Morris

A Stroll Around Knole

2011-10-08T06:33:00.051-04:00

What has 365 rooms, 52 staircases, 12 entrances, and 7 courtyards? Answer: A Calendar House. A handful of notable examples can be found in Britain and I get to study one of them (I love my job! And whoever says being a postgraduate student isn't a job was obviously never a postgraduate student!).

The Green Court at Knole

One of the largest country houses in England, Knole sits in the middle of a 1,000 acre Medieval deer park, the only one of its kind remaining in Kent. It takes its name from the grassy knoll on which it has been sitting for over 500 years.

Knowl illustrated by Kip and Knyff circa 1709

Knole is perhaps best known in gardening circles as the birthplace of Vita Sackville-West, who created the famous gardens at Sissinghurst Castle. The only child of the 3rd Lord Sackville, Vita was prevented from inheriting her beloved home thanks to the laws of primogeniture. The house, land, and title were passed to her uncle. Upon his death, the title, etc. went to a cousin, from whom the incumbent Lord Sackville is descended. The National Trust now owns the house and 43-acres of deer park, the rest is still owned by the Sackville-West family who have a 200 year lease and currently inhabit half the house. I wouldn't feel too bad for Vita, though; she did get Sissinghurst, after all!

One has to wonder, then, how different Knole would be had Vita inherited, being the keen gardener that she was. As it is, the 26-acre private family garden is only open to the public one day a week, at the discretion of the current tenant, the 7th Lord Sackville.

Amazingly, there are only 2 full-time, 2 seasonal, and 2 student trainee gardeners to care for the family gardens which feature formal planting and wilderness areas. Without a map, and with only an hour to roam, I was afraid of becoming hopelessly lost and so didn't see everything I would have liked to see. As I wandered, I kept fighting off the voice in my head of Maintenance Manager that kept pointing out issues: weeds here, grass that needed mowing there, trees that needed tending, ponds that needed cleaning, etc. No volunteers are used to help with the gardens and while there can be no question as to their enthusiasm, I sometimes have considerable hesitations about a volunteer's level of knowledge and ability. The bottom line is, many world famous gardens simply wouldn't exist today if weren't for their help, and surely a few extra hands to deadhead and pull weeds would make a big difference in the feel of the garden at Knole.

This Google map shows the gardens in relation to the house, surrounded by the deer park and ancient golf course.

View Larger Map

Kidding. The golf course is a modern amendment, dating to the early 1920's. It proved challenging during the second World War as the club members sought new and ingenious methods of obstructing the fairways to prevent enemy planes or gliders from landing. Being that Knole is located so close to 'Bomb Alley', the flight path the Luftwaffe took to and from their bombing raids of London, there are still some bomb craters evident in the park as the Germans ditched any bombs they had left on their way back to the Vaterland.

But I digress. We were talking about the garden, weren't we? It was originally laid out 300 years ago as series of geometric squares and rectangles planted as orchard and managed to escape the ravages of fashion during the English Landscape Movement. Considerable change can be seen in this image, drawn by Thomas Badeslade in the 1719.

1st-art-gallery.com

Today most of the orchard has been replaced with a wilderness of beech, oak, Liriodendron, one truly amazing Cedrus, and a number of rhododendrons. Mossy paths curve out of sight, inviting you to enter and wander. As someone in my class group said, it's a good place to run around naked! A rose garden has been replaced with veg contained within a knotted boxwood hedge and a sunken pond has been turned into a swimming pool.

veggie garden

Behind the enclosed herb garden is a tennis court, itself enclosed by a decidedly un-ornamental and decidedly not 17th century black chain-link fence. The herb garden was probably one of my favorite spots but it suffers from a lack of seating. It's a tease, this garden, because once inside you want to linger but aside from displacing the little cherubim from his seat on the dolphin, there is no place to sit and enjoy the herb's perfume.

Walled herb garden

The garden and park at Knole are this term's case study for the Historic Garden Conservation course I'm taking. We have been invited by the present Lord Sackville to study Knole and develop a conservation management plan so you will hear more about the challenges of conserving and restoring an historical family home right here. So far my favorite part of research is the literary aspect, and for homework I have to read Vita's novel The Edwardians, which she based on life at Knole.

Did I mention I love my job!?

The newly opened Orangery

Where Time Begins

2011-09-27T05:22:00.000-04:00

Mercy me! Where does the time go? I've been negligent in my blogging duties and haven't even posted half the things I thought of while I was at Great Dixter. Perhaps a retrospective will make its way to these hallowed screens sometime. Soon? Maybe.

And so we fast forward to the present. I am back in England studying for my MA in Garden History and what better place to be for the subject? Of all the countries in the world, England has to be the most garden-centric. With upwards of 800 gardens in England alone, I don't expect to be bored while I'm here! While the first week was filled with induction and I really should have been diving into my studies to get a head start, instead, I decided to do a little exploring of my new surroundings.

Week 1: Greenwich

Old Royal Naval College, Greewich
Now the site of the University of Greenwich

Architecture!

The Chapel

The Painted Hall
Used as a dining room for special occasions

Longest perennial border in the world, or so I'm told. During WW2 the Flower Garden in another part of the park was planted with anti-aircraft guns. After the war the park was restored.

Where time begins
In the courtyard above, people are queued up waiting their turn to straddle the Prime Meridian. In doing so, half of you is in the Western Hemisphere while the other half is in the Eastern Hemisphere. Good party trick!

Greenwich Park, site of a Roman settlement and the oldest enclosed Royal Park

Local culture

Local flavor!

Living and studying in London? Historically speaking, pretty darn awesome! In the coming weeks I will make it a goal to post interesting snippets about the places I visit and gardens and garden topics I study. Stay tuned for a bit on Egyptian gardens and the ancestral home of Vita Sackville-West's family, Knole.

The Bumblebee and the Butterfly

2011-08-24T13:25:00.007-04:00

Once upon a time there was a beautiful garden with many beautiful flowers. Everyday a fuzzy bumblebee came to the garden to collect pollen. One day as the bumblebee was busy buzzing from flower to flower a lovely butterfly, tired from a long journey, floated into the garden and flitted to a flower nearby (Cosmos 'Psyche White', if you must know. After all, this is a morality tale written by a horticulturist!). As the butterfly sipped the delicious nectar, it watched the bumblebee busily at work.

"Gosh, that bumblebee sure is working hard! Look at all that pollen it has collected!", said the butterfly. When the bumblebee noisily crawled into a nearer flower (Salvia uliginosa, since I know you're going to ask), the butterfly asked, "Why are you so busy collecting so much pollen?"

The bumblebee buzzed about in the flower then came out and hovered near the butterfly, its diaphanous wings beating so fast that the draft caused the butterfly's large, bright wings to quiver. "Why, I'm gathering food for my nest," he said. Then it dove into another blossom and scrambled around. When he came out he said, "And I'm helping to pollinate these flowers so they'll set seed and grow next year. More flowers next year means more food for my nest!"

"Wow!", said the butterfly, "I'm not carrying that much pollen on my feet. Even though I visit many flowers, I'd better step it up if I'm going to keep up with the bumblebee!" And the butterfly began to collect more pollen on its long, thin legs.

The butterfly went from bloom to bloom collecting pollen but as time went on she found it harder and harder to fly from one flower to the next. She grew tired, but kept telling herself she needed to keep up with the bumblebee. Soon the beautiful butterfly had collected several sunny beads of pollen and was ready to continue her journey south. After one last sip of nectar, she left the flower and tried to fly. Instead of flitting lightly along she struggled, weighed down by the pollen, every flap of her colorful wings a tiring effort. Soon she was forced to land and rest. Then she heard the bumblebee coming back and the constant buzz-buzz-buzzing of it's wings as it quickly flew from flower to flower. When the bumblebee came up for air, the butterfly asked him another question.

"How can you carry all that pollen? It's so heavy, and I've got such a long way to go!".

"I don't know, I just do. My nest is close by. I collect the pollen, take it to my nest, then come back for more. See ya!" and the busy bumblebee buzzed away.

"But I've got so far to go," said the butterfly. "If I carry all this pollen, I'll never be able to keep up with my friends when we fly south". And unable to fly away, the beautiful butterfly was eaten by a bird.

The End

(hey, not all endings are happy ones)

Heaven knows how some thoughts pierce the gray matter while I lie awake at 5am listening to a rumbling thunderstorm and wishing I could go back to sleep. However they manage, they get in and bounce around, thwarting sleep and demanding to be looked at, turned around, ruminated on, analyzed, and bounced some more. This morning as the sky lit up like a pinball machine with thunder growling angrily (along with my stomach), I kept thinking about butterflies and bees (no, not birds and bees, this is not that kind of blog!).

Maybe it was a line from the movie Jurassic Park, which I watched before bedtime, where the heroic paleontologist has just rescued two kids from the menacing T-Rex and are hiding up a tree. When they awake in the morning, the tree branches are being eaten by a docile herbivore. The girl freaks, fearing it's another meat-a-saurus, but the daring doctor reassures her it's not. "They just do what they do", he says, which can be said of the carnivores, as well, I suppose.

Maybe it was the article I read about a woman who swore off mirrors for a year in order to develop a better body image. And who doesn't need one of those, what with the constant barrage of beauty ads, cosmetic surgery commercials, and weight loss gimmicks around every turn? I can say from personal experience that after living half a year in an ancient house with no television, very little radio, and only the occasional fashion magazine (it was fascinating to see how they differ in the UK compared to the US), I was much happier and - dare I say - saner.

To my knowledge, Homo sapiens is the only species on the planet pre-occupied with being something it isn't, and which has taken that pre-occupation and turned it into a bazillion dollar industry. Magazine ads and television commercials are designed to make us feel inferior in the hopes of duping us to buying the products and services touted. If we buy these clothes, use this product, or undergo this treatment we'll look younger, be slimmer, feel sexier, be more desirable to the opposite sex.

Riiiiiiiiight!

Notice the humble bumble in the story never once tried to convince the butterfly it was an inferior creature, nor did it boast of its own capabilities. It just did what Bombi do. Oh sure, there's competition in nature - you only have to look at "survival of the fittest" research to see that. Heck, you only have to see how grass weeds crowd out desirable perennials in a garden, but I'll bet you all the Camellia sinensis in China that not one of those weeds has ever said to itself, "Gosh, I wish I was a Silene 'Blue Angel'; then everyone would love me!". Only humans wish such absurd things and who are we to deny what we are meant to be? Taking it a step further, who are we to tell others what they should be?

Time for full disclosure: as I get older I admit to wishing I were young(er) again. Or at least that I looked like I did when I was younger (i.e. thinner, in better shape, with longer hair, and fewer strands of tinsel) but there's one important lesson that my friendships with those of the more youthful generation have taught me, and that is that I have mad skills and knowledge which I've worked hard to develop over time, and only with time do those skills and knowledge become as mad as they are! Perhaps I'm not so good at designing a garden, but I'm one hell of a pricker-outer, and garden designers wouldn't have the plants to design the garden with if there wasn't someone to grow them. So there. Nyah. Would I trade my hard-earned madness for youth? No way!

As the thunderstorm continued on its course and the rumblings died down, I wondered what the world would be like if people stopped trying to be something they aren't and invested that time in being content with who they are and what they have instead of always trying to keep up with the Joneses. What if they spent that time being who they are meant to be, depending less on what the mirror says, and focusing more on doing what they were created to do? The bumblebee doesn't try to be a butterfly, and the butterfly doesn't try to be a bee. Not only would it be an exercise in futility, they would be too busy trying to be something else that they wouldn't be doing what nature needs them to do, which would surely domino into a collapse of the space-time continuum leading to fire and brimstone coming down from the sky, rivers and seas boiling, forty years of darkness, earthquakes, volcanoes, dogs and cats living together, mass hysteria (guess who's been watching too much cable!?)!

Bumblebees and butterflies are what they are and they both contribute to the world going round in their own unique and invaluable ways. Just for kicks and giggles, I've posted a chart comparing the two.

I guess what I'm asking is who are we? Not in the existential, Nietzsche-esque sense of the phrase, but who are we to imply that someone else isn't good enough? We all play an important part in the grand scheme, whether one is a doctor, a chef, a gardener, or a trash collector. I grant that not many kids exclaim wanting to be a trash collector when they grow up but just imagine where we'd be without them. I shudder at the thought!

And so to send you on your merry way, here's an inspirational yet in-your-face video featuring one of my all time favorite heroines in fiction to motivate you to step away from the mirror and go out there and be you!

Oh, by the way, there's an alternate ending to the story of the butterfly: the bird she encounters is a robin, those feisty yet adorable ornaments of the garden so often portrayed in fiction as good guys. In an act of tough love the robin smacks Miss Butterfly upside the thorax, asks what the heck she thinks she's doing trying to be a bumblebee and putting holes in the space-time continuum, knocks the pollen off and sends her on her merry way to Mexico, during which arduous journey she lays eggs and when her great-great-great-great grandchildren stop for a rest in that same garden, the kindly robin tells them the story of the Bumblebee and the Butterfly.

Fun Facts: Bumblebee vs. Butterfly

Bumble-bee (genus Bombus)                    Butterfly (Monarch)

4 wings beat at 130-240 beats/second      4 wings beat at 5-12 beats/second
Cannot fly if wing muscle temp is below     Cannot fly in the rain
30°C
Flight speed avg. 8.7 mph                       Flight speed avg. 3.7 mph
"central place foragers"; the central            Migratory, traveling over 2,000 miles
place is their nest. They fly out, forage,
and fly back
Weight: 0.04 - 0.60 grams                        Weight: 0.27 - 0.75 grams
Female workers can carry their whole       Collects pollen on their feet as they walk on flowers
weight in pollen
Cannot see the color red                          Can see more colors than humans or bees,
                                                                including red

Source: http://www.bumblebee.org/                    http://www.learner.org/

Garden Notebook

2011-05-19T14:35:00.000-04:00

One of the most important gardening tools is a well-used notebook. Here's a peek at mine.

Weed 'Em and Reap

2011-05-03T01:34:00.002-04:00

OK, I know that one's as old as the hills but there are truths to be found in those old sayings and this one really does apply. Weeding is often looked down upon as one of the "lesser" jobs in gardening, one that many people studying horticulture and garden design see as being "beneath them" (I'll withhold pithy comments on weeds being in the ground which is beneath us all).

Many non-gardeners are of the decided opinion that weeding is a monotonous, boring, menial task but I have to agree with Christopher Lloyd who said, "Many gardeners will agree that hand-weeding is not the terrible drudgery that it is often made out to be. Some people find in it a kind of soothing monotony. It leaves their minds free to develop the plot for their next novel or to perfect the brilliant repartee with which they should have encountered a relative's latest example of unreasonableness." (The Well-Tempered Garden, 1973). I think the key word here is gardeners. There is a sharp contrast betwixt gardeners and garden admirers, even - dare I say - garden designers, but that's a post for another time.

Weeding, the act of kneeling on the ground and bending over the soil pulling out those plants which are undesirable thugs or thinning those who have been too rambunctious, to make room for new plants or to give just emerged seedlings a fighting chance at survival, is one of the most important tasks in the garden. Not only does it clear the bed, it helps clear the mind. You're able to really focus on the bed close up, to see what seedlings are coming up, what self-sowers have given you an unexpected and felicitous surprise, what the condition of the soil is - too dry, too wet, too hard, too gritty, whether it could do with more compost, or less. These are just some of the ways the garden communicates to you but you have to bend your ear to the ground sometimes in order to hear it. Besides, I like weeding. I think I've finally got the outline for that best selling novel down!

Weeds are commonly defined as 'the wrong plant in the wrong place', 'a plant growing where we want something else', 'a plant whose virtues have not yet been discovered', etc. Botanically speaking a weed is 'a wild plant growing in competition with cultivated plants'. Most were imported from their native land where they were used in the culinary arts or for medicine, or they hijacked their way to their new homes on imported goods, the seeds stuck to people's clothing, animal's fur, or they hitched a ride on a passing hurricane. Finding themselves in a new, often extraordinarily hospitable climate with no natural predators or grazers to keep them in check, they flung off their inhibitions, went forth and multiplied, squeezed out the more amenable natives and, in some cases, took over the country in the process.

But weeding is about more than removing these undesirable interlopers. It can be about reducing the abundance of desirable plants to create opportunities for more desirable plants. Take this bed: it's just one section of the Barn Garden at Dixter that is designated as a 'bedding pocket', meaning the plants in it are not permanent. This spring Fergus wanted to augment the existing bedding of Allium and Lunaria with Lauren's Grape poppies. In order to do this we had to get down on our knees and weed!

One of the bedding pockets in the Barn Garden at Dixter

Our task was to remove the true weeds, thin the self-sown Lunaria and Alliums, and in the resulting pockets we would plant the poppies. To help us identify what we were to pull out, Fergus lined up these samples:

Here are the results of the first go around:

The thing about a project like this is that not only do you have to be able to identify the plants being weeded out, you need to understand the plants that are staying. Knowing that the Honesty will overshadow the poppies and inhibit their growth tells you that the seedlings coming up and inch from each other can be thinned so that only a handful of Honesty seedlings remain. Knowing that the wide Allium foliage, likewise, will cover the new plants and that the flower heads are 'this big' will help you realize that they can be extensively thinned otherwise you'll have nothing but a sea of alliums butting heads. Knowing your plants is key, and weeding is one way to get a bird's eye view (especially when the bird is a rather brave Robin scouting for worms in the soil you're disturbing) of them in their various forms throughout the season.

Once the weeding was finished and pockets were created we could place the poppies.

In the end, this particular combination experiment didn't quite work as hoped because the Alliums flowered before the poppies but it was a great lesson in the importance of weeding, plant identification, design, and experimentation.

The same bed a few days ago, waiting for the poppies to bloom

So next time you tell someone you've been weeding the garden and they turn their nose up at such a menial task, you can inform them of their misinformation then laugh all the way to the bank when your novel hits the number one spot on the best seller's list!

The Royal Wedding

2011-04-29T14:56:00.002-04:00

OK, I admit...I cried!

Digging Amongst the Graves: Gardening at Highgate Cemetery

2011-04-25T06:07:00.001-04:00

When I tell people that I enjoy poking around cemeteries the inevitable reaction is a pause, a startled sideways glance (no doubt seeking an avenue of escape), and cautious step back as they say, "Really??"

Really.

They can be fascinating places, cemeteries. Just think about all the history buried beneath your shoes. The really creepy ones provide endless inspiration for ghost stories and haunted fables. I don't go in for the blood-and-guts type stories that tinsel town churns out, but with a good imagination you can find mystery, intrigue, even romance.

Cemeteries and gardens have a lot in common. Cemeteries, like gardens, can be places of beauty designed to provoke an emotional response and the older ones are increasingly in need of care and management to maintain their spirit. So when the invitation to spend a day gardening with a volunteer group at historic Highgate Cemetery in north London presented itself, I signed on immediately! Even having perused the website, I was completely unprepared for the visions that greeted me.

Designed by architect Stephen Geary who appointed David Ramsey as landscape gardener, Highgate was opened in 1839 as part of a Parliamentary Act providing seven modern cemeteries (they were known as "The Magnificent Seven" back then) serving the London populace because the small church graveyards were becoming over-crowded and posed severe health hazards (ya think?).

Highgate is divided into two parts entered through the East Gate and West Gate respectively. Victorians much admired the new place and if it were appropriate to call a cemetery fashionable, Highgate became so (and when you think about it, by definition death is pretty fashionable. I mean, everyone does it...). Soon the land became a garden of Gothic graves with elaborate tombs and memorials sprouting up one after another. Situated on the side of a south-facing slope, it once commanded a majestic view of London.

A Victorian View of Highgate Cemetery c. 1843 (http://www.victorianweb.org/art/parks/14b.html)

Not so now.

The Circe of Lebanon, as seen above, with the Lebanon Cedar today

Wikipedia states, "The cemetery's grounds are full of trees, shrubbery and wild flowers; all of which have been planted and grown without human influence", which is a polite way of saying it fell into a state of abandonment, decay, and near ruin. The sheep were no longer mowing the lawns, and the area began to revert to woodland. Self-sown ash, sycamore, holly, and oak trees struggle to take over, questing tendrils of ivy left unchecked made their way into tombs, disturbing the peaceful slumber of those within. Tree roots toppled monuments and swallowed up smaller, modest grave markers while invasive weeds that could tolerate the limited light from the canopy overhead choked out the grass and wildflowers.

With the onset of WW1 the men who maintained the immaculate grounds at Highgate were called up to action. Coupled with the desire for less elaborate and ostentatious funerals, the cemetery began to fall into a state of decline in the 1930s. Funds ran out in the early 1970's. In 1975 the Friends of Highgate Cemetery Trust was established and acquired ownership of the cemetery and it is they who now oversee management of the grounds. The cemetery is a Grade 1 English Heritage site and several of the chapels, monuments, tombs, and catacombs have also been listed.

A new management plan was adopted and is being tackled section by section with the view of maintaining the cemetery as a sanctuary for wildlife while preserving respect for the grave oweners, not a complete restoration to a Victorian cemetery (which would take millions of pounds and an army to accomplish). First a major clean up took place to remove fallen trees, dead wood, pruning up of low holly branches, and releasing statuary and sculpture from the ivy's embrace. The next phase included planting of native trees and shrubs such as Rowan (Sorbus aucuparia, appropriately known as the Tree of Life) and Ruscus aculeatus. Other hardy natives such as Carex pendula are controlled by thinning (the Collins Flower Guide notes the habitat of this particular sedge as 'damp woodlands on heavy soils, hedgerows, sides of ponds and stream.' I would like to add, 'grows happily over gravestones').

With light shining once again on the ground below, wildflowers have appeared and the blooms of Cow Parsley (Anthriscus sylvestris), Euphorbias, Forget-Me-Nots, Bluebells, and Scillas illuminate the landscape.

There is still much to be done, and it was heart breaking to see so many beautiful monuments shrouded in ivy that my Felcos were itching to have a go at the tangled stems but several of the stones have lead lettering embedded in them, and removal of the vines needs to be a slow and careful process to extract the invader and preserve the integrity of everything underneath. Surgery on the graves of the dead. What a thought! There is a delicacy that is required when working in such a densely populated area and it's a sure bet that when you feel the chunk of your spade on rock, the stone is some one's grave marker, not just a rock in the soil! It's also a sure bet that one reads way too many novels when one imagines the occupant of said grave raising the lid and mildly enquiring, "Do you mind? I'm trying to sleep!"

royalacademy.org.uk

Volunteer work days are held once a month, and an organization called Go-London has gotten involved so that on the day I volunteered there were at least 20 of us hauling away dead brush, pulling weeds, rescuing the Ruscus, controlling invasives and bringing the place back to life.

Tours are offered to see the cemetery and if you're planning a day in London, I highly recommend it. Better yet, if you're a local, contact them and volunteer for one of the working parties. It was a great experience and a truly unique way to see one of the most mysterious and magical historical sites of London.

You Have to Start Somewhere

2011-04-07T14:41:00.000-04:00

So much has happened since we arrived at Great Dixter it's difficult to pick just one, or even two, subjects to elaborate on because, really, if I were to dive in and pull one out and tell you all about it we'd be here for days! Days, I tell you!

Like the day we accompanied our new friend James, the first Christopher Lloyd Scholar here at Dixter, to the RHS Garden Wisley and how enchanted we all were with the Alpine House. Or the day we visited Beth Chatto's garden and met Beth (how can a woman so small have so much energy?) who gave us all a hug! And speaking of energy, I could go on at great length about working with the likes of Fergus Garrett, who leaves the Energizer Bunny absolutely knackered and begging for a breather. Then there was the day we went to Sissinghurst Garden just at closing and were permitted to wander the garden at will until it was too dark to see anything. How about a magical morning walk in the woods with Dan Hinkley to view the wild daffodil in its native habitat? And I can't forget the perfect sunny Sunday that James, Emma, and I explored the public footpaths from Dixter to Bodiam Castle and enjoyed a cream tea with one of the retired volunteers there who was full of fantastic stories and wonderful information of the area.

And it's only been a month! Where shall I possibly begin?

As Fergus says, you have to start somewhere so I'll start at the beginning:

The estate of Dixter appears in the books as far back as the 1200's. That's the 13th century, or almost 800 years ago. However you look at it, Dixter's been here for a reeeeeally long time! It was owned by a succession of noble gentlemen who, in one way or another, had garnered favor with the Monarchy and accumulated varieties of titles, lands, wealth, and sons-in-law. They had interesting names but the one we're most interested in is Lloyd, which enters the record book in 1910 when the estate was purchased as a new family home for Nathaniel and Daisy Lloyd and their growing brood. By this time the original 15th century timber framed hall house - built sometime around 1450 - and the surrounding farmland had been neglected and on the market for over ten years.

The Lloyd's hired the well-know architect Edwin Lutyens to restore and enlarge the dwelling, which he did by incorporating another hall - this one much newer and somewhat humbler than the Great Hall, dating to about 1500 - the timbers of which were numbered, disassembled, transported, and reassembled at Dixter with a modern kitchen and bedroom wing joining the two timbered structures. Modern amenities such as central heat, electricity, and indoor plumbing were added as well, enabling the earth closets in use at the time to be replaced with water closets*.

Lutyens also laid out the framework of the gardens with decided input from Mr. Lloyd and it was his wife Daisy who became the first real gardener at Dixter. Of their six children only the youngest, Christopher (1921-2006) showed an inclination to gardening and it was he who made the garden famous by experimenting with plants and plant combinations then writing about them and the garden in his inimitable style. He was simultaneously a maverick and a trendsetter in the gardening world (putting pink and yellow together just wasn't done, darling!).

Dixter, under the green fingers of Daisy and Christo was really a garden ahead of its time: Daisy planted the first wildflower meadows at Dixter, which Christo expanded. Now, wildlife studies have found that the plant and insect species formerly so common in the UK have diminished in alarming degrees because of the reduction of natural meadowland. Christo's head gardener Fergus is continuing to expand the meadows at Dixter which has encouraged an increase in population of both moths and butterflies as well as the rare native meadow orchid, happily colonizing in Dixter's long grass.

Dixter has always made use of its own compost, taking the cuttings, clippings, and debris from garden and kitchen, heaping it all into massive piles and waiting patiently for nature to do its thing until the compost is ready to use in the garden. Large iron tubs in the nursery collect rain water and an underground tank collects well water run down from the high meadow, fed by gravity, for use in watering nursery plants and the plethora of pot displays in the garden.

Plants in the garden are buttressed by poles, canes, and pea sticks that come from the Dixter coppice woods or the garden itself. Everything is used that possibly can be, little is wasted, and everything that can be reused, is. This all began 100 years ago, before such a thing as conservation was hip and before the word 'sustainability' began buzzing around like a vibrating mobile phone. Not bad for a garden that is still run the 'old way', is it?

As with any family that owns a large estate there was some drama involved in procuring Dixter after Christopher's death but it has been secured and is now run by the Great Dixter Charitable Trust while the garden is managed by Fergus Garrett and his team of amazing gardeners in the way Christo gardened. It is still seen very much as a garden going forward, not sealed in aspic to preserve it forever unchanged, and the recurring theme regarding new plants and combinations is "let's see what happens".

It's a hugely dynamic garden, celebrating just over 100 years of cultivation. It's a pretty amazing place to be and in the months to come I'll try to steal a few moments between adventures to regale you with tales and information. For now, have a look at some pretty pictures or Google 'earth closet' and see if I'm not telling you the truth!

Entrance to Great Dixter - this is part of the original 1450 manor house restored by Lutyens

Horticulture students at Dixter for a volunteer weekend are seated on the wall of the Terrace with the imported Benenden Hall looming in the background

Anemone blooming in a pot display on the porch

Dixter's sheep (part of the meadow management crew)

The famous Long Border in early spring

*Earth closets were invented in the 1860's by a Mr. Moule and basically constituted a commode with a pail full of earth under it. This was a major boon to housekeeping and if you believe the memoirs of certain house maids, carrying a bucket of soiled earth down to fertilize** the garden was infinitely preferable to emptying chamber pots. This invention is being renewed in light of the new "green movement" as self-composting toilets.

**Lest you utter a moue of distaste at the thought of human waste being used as fertilizer, allow me to direct you to the ingredient list of some bagged compost products. Some of them contain "bio solids", more commonly known as sewage sludge. Makes you think about what you're putting in your garden, doesn't it?

On Pruning

2011-04-03T13:05:00.000-04:00

Beth Chatto: "Take the old men out!"
Fergus Garrett: "You have to start somewhere"
Emma Seniuk: "Life's too short to f**k around!"

Standing on the Shoulders of Giants

2011-03-13T11:26:00.000-04:00

In forty years of prolific writing, Christopher Lloyd penned columns for the Guardian and Country Life magazine as well as an impressive number of books, never missing his weekly deadline. With inspiration coming from his garden right outside, he always had something to write about. And now here I sit at his home at Great Dixter in what I fancy was once a servant's bedroom converted to a kitchenette for students, with the same sources of inspiration at my fingertips and I'm at a complete loss as to what to write. Part of me still can't believe I'm actually here and there are no words for such a condition!

The journey from the States was smooth and uneventful, which is as good as a journey can get in my book, and we arrived in the UK early in the morning and eager to get to Dixter. We took planes, trains, and autos (in the form of a London cab) and miraculously didn't get lost! Thus, when we made our way to the south and the village of Northiam, we were greeted with several happy views.

It's spring here, which is plainly evident in the profusion of naturalized Crocus blooming in the lawns and meadows, the Daphnes wafting their scents throughout the garden, and the swelling buds of fruit trees in the orchard (many of which Christo grew from seed).

We've been here two full weeks and already have had wonderful adventures: a volunteer weekend led by head gardener Fergus Garrett with students from Kew, Wisley, and Cambridge, an outing to Wisley, and this week we're due to visit Beth Chatto. Work in the garden is hard and the list of jobs to do before opening day on April 1st is long but we're getting through it. Each day is different and with each we learn several new plants, techniques, meet a new volunteer, hear new and wonderful stories, and try to keep up with Fergus's boundless energy and enthusiasm (which isn't easy, let me tell you!).

Students who partook of the volunteer weekend with Fergus and staff

This is real gardening and I can't wait to chronicle our adventures here over the next six months! But now I must leave you as we have been invited to lunch with a neighbor and mustn't be late. Before I go, I'll leave you with some images of spring at Dixter!

Liliputian Cyclamen in the garden

Galanthus in the Barn Garden

Daffodils in the Peacock Garden

Potted Anemone on the porch

Sheep graze contentedly at sunset (heck, if I were a sheep here I'd be content, too!)

If adventures do not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad

2011-02-21T10:52:00.002-05:00

I'm not one to argue with Jane, and the time has come for this blog to capture the next series of horticultural adventures soon to befall this young lady. Yes, folks, I'm going to England! Studying and working in an English garden has been a dream of mine for years, and it's about to come true in a startlingly surreal kind of way!

By week's end I'll be traveling to London with a most esteemed colleague, friend, and Professional Gardener legend, whereupon we will take planes, trains, and automobiles - on the wrong side of the road - to our final destination, there to spend six months under the tutelage of one of the most famous Head Gardeners in the world, who also happens to be the nicest guy you could ever hope to meet and a natural teacher. He's been Head Gardener at the same garden for nearly 20 years and is a veritable walking encyclopedia of horticultural knowledge.

This Padawan has much to learn from the Jedi Master!

Today is packing day and while I've managed to tame my packing lists in years past, packing for six months of work, planning for variable weather and seasons, is a lot different than packing for a few weeks' holiday. Last summer I managed three weeks in Spain and England with a carry-on and a backpack and that was too much! This time I'm determined to do better! But where to start?

I consulted a fellow Longwood alum who made this same trip three years ago. In fact, it was through him and his companion that I learned of the PG Program. His advice: Layers are key! We will have access to a clothes washer though I'm not sure about a dryer, which won't be a problem in summer but could complicate things now if I don't plan well, which means rain gear is essential to keep clothes as dry as possible while working outside.

So where to begin? At the beginning, of course! I pulled everything out of my closet that I thought I'd need for a typical week's work in cold, rain, and sun plus a few nicer things for sightseeing trips and spread them all out on the living room floor.

Hmmm. Perhaps not! Next I consulted various websites offering packing tips for the business and leisure traveler. One website offered the Universal Packing List which enables you to enter the dates of travel, minimum and maximum temperatures at your destination, average rainfall, the sorts of activities you may find yourself engaged in (fishing, hiking, trekking, etc) and the size of your bag (my favorite option was "I've hired a sherpa"!). Hitting 'enter' will spit out an exhaustive list of not only what to pack but what to do before leaving home ("wash dishes"). After reviewing the list the Sherpa reference became clear.

I'm determined to keep my burden to one large suitcase, one carry-on, and one backpack though I keep thinking about that antique steamer trunk I once owned and wished I still had it! I collected the things deemed absolute necessities and put them in my large suit case.

Good start!

Then the packing began and by the end of the day I had clothes, gear, and personal items all stuffed into the three bags. They will not only offer a good workout as I schlep them about various airports, the contents will see me through the next half a year of gardening under moody Enlgish skies.

I'm going to England! Let the adventures begin!

Happy New Year!!!

2011-01-01T12:25:00.093-05:00

Wow! Another new year! It seems like just yesterday I was celebrating New Year's Eve 2010 by watching the fireworks at Longwood soar over the forest trees from the cozy warmth of my front window! Now I'm in a new state (temporarily) with new adventures ahead.

The accepted New Year tradition (besides black eyed peas and corn bread) is to make resolutions. This year I have resolved not to make any resolutions! Instead, I resolve to be resolved - resolved to the fact that life is an adventure, an exhilarating journey into the unknown to be met with enthusiastic courage, zeal, and passion while heeding the dangers and embracing the unexpected gifts.

Who knows where I'll be or what I'll be doing this time next year? Who knows what experiences will further shape my knowledge or what learning will further inform the matrix of my thoughts? Who knows what people I'll meet and what friendships will be forged! This year I resolve to make 2011 a quest - a quest of self-discovery, revelation, knowledge, for dreams fulfilled, and for the next stepping stone on my garden path.

Appropriately, I've had sea voyages on the brain. Partly due to the closing quote in Dan Maffei's speech at our graduation ceremony, partly from reading more of my friend Washington Irving's tales of travel, and partly because of Reepicheep. Who? You mean you don't know who Reepicheep is? Well, why not!? He's only the bravest rapier-wielding mouse ever to inhabit the world of classic fiction. Wikipedia describes him thusly: "He is an experienced warrior, utterly fearless, and faultlessly courteous, particularly to noble ladies. He is also pugnacious and quick to defend any affront to his honor." He sails to the utter east - the end of the known world - in search of that which to many will remain unknown. To many more the unknown is habitually feared and is therefore avoided, often to their own peril.

And so I resolve to approach the coming year with the same prayer with which Dan concluded his speech. It's a quote from Sir Frances Drake, himself an adventurer, sea captain (and pirate) of some renown. He was the first to circumnavigate the globe (try to imagine what that might have been like!). As we set sail into the unknown waters of 2011, I resolve to go forth with a mouse's courage and a pirate's prayer:

Disturb us, O Lord

when we are too well-pleased with ourselves;
when our dreams have come true because we dreamed too little,

because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us, O Lord

when with the abundance of things we possess,
we have lost our thirst for the water of life;
when, having fallen in love with time,
we have ceased to dream of eternity
and in our efforts to build a new earth,
we have allowed our vision of Heaven to grow dim.

Stir us, O Lord

to dare more boldly, to venture into wider seas
where storms show Thy mastery,
where losing sight of land, we shall find the stars.

In the name of Him who pushed back the horizons of our hopes
and invited the brave to follow.

Amen.

Reepicheep_by_The_Starhorse

May Your Christmas Be Bright!

2010-12-25T22:35:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas!!

The Graduate's Speech

2010-12-19T09:18:00.001-05:00

They say time flies when you're having fun. When you're having the time of your life, time kicks it up a notch by packing rocket boosters and hitting warp drive!

It's hard to believe two years have gone by, and there's a melancholy sense of déjà vu as I pack up my belongings and get ready to leave Longwood. Two years ago I packed up my apt in LA and headed east, not knowing what I would find here. What I found is treasure: A home that I've loved more than any other place I've ever lived, friends who love me for who and what I am and with whom I can share a common passion (some might say neuroses but that only draws us closer together!), and more wonder than one human can behold. If you told me ten years ago that I would end up here, I'd have laughed you off the planet!

The last two years have been the most amazing two years of my life!

The PG graduation ceremony was a much anticipated celebration of our accomplishments. It was held in the Ballroom in Longwood's famed Conservatory, where Mr. and Mrs. DuPont hosted many lavish balls and parties. And we are now part of that illustrious history. My classmate Emma became a PG legend by winning three awards and the PG Alumni Association travel grant (guess who bought drinks that night!) and for the first time ever the Director gave a joint award! There were also two who earned the top GPA award and apparently there were two more in contention, making it a tough race (considering we all finished our last final literally the day before, I can only imagine the furious tapping on calculators to figure GPAs!).

Our awesome Landscape Design and Construction instructor Dan Maffei was our keynote speaker and gave an amazing speech that started my eyeballs squirting. I'll post the transcript once I have time to transcribe it from the video. Dan's a pro at public speaking so he was a hard act to follow and I was nervous enough about getting up in front of 100+ people but somehow I managed to get through my speech, only choking up once (I cried plenty while writing it). My cinematic brain kept going to the newsroom scene in Bruce Almighty where the star news caster is stricken with fits of gibberish. It is with a great sense of relief that I made it through my entire speech sans gibberish! For my friends who couldn't be there and who generously gave me assurances that I wouldn't suffer the humiliation of tripping on my way to the podium, forgetting my own name, or sweating through two layers of velvet, here it is. Side note: I discovered that speeches are much easier to write when you quote other people, so I did - the opening quote from a fabulous "why-to" (as opposed to "how-to") gardening book, and my friend Andrew, who was one of three friends to whom I posed many probing questions about passion and legacy. Their words carried me as I wrote the speech!

(After taking my place behind the podium and saying something with dripping sarcasm about it being not at all intimidating):

"In his book, The Passion for Gardening, Ken Druse writes:

'The horticultural community is one of the few places in contemporary Western Society where elders are revered for their wisdom. Part science, part intuition, knowledge of gardening is invariably cumulative, and while much of it can be read about in books, learning takes place in the garden – hands on. Sharing is a hallmark of horticulture, and sharing this accumulated wisdom to help enrich the next generation may be the most important thing a gardener can do'.

When I first read that quote I thought how perfectly it summed up our experience as PGs at Longwood, and it still does. At this time of year it’s fitting to think about gifts, and giving and receiving. Because of Pierre DuPont’s passion and legacy, we have been granted the opportunity to spend two years learning, working, and living in one of the most amazing gardens in the world, but the real gifts came from you. You have selflessly given us the gift of your time, your interest, your friendship, your knowledge, your wisdom, and your passion. Because of your willingness to share, we have been immeasurably enriched, personally and professionally.

To quote one of my classmates, “the amount of knowledge I’ve gained in the last two years has made me feel dangerous in the gardening world” (and if you’ve ever seen Emma in action with a machete, you know just how accurate that statement really is!). We have learned more than we could have imagined (and had fun doing it!) and we owe all of you a debt of gratitude.

In preparing for this speech I thought a lot about passion and legacy, and tried to find a way to define both in the context of the last two years. Here’s what I came up with:

Passion is something that comes from the heart…that brings its own rewards for being pursued. In pursuing our passion, each of us landed here, and while our debts are numerous and heavy, our rewards are countless and their worth incalculable. Legacy is what we leave behind after we're gone - our fingerprint on the world. It has both a present and future and posthumous reflection. It is something each of us bequeaths, whether we know it or not, and we can only strive to leave a legacy worthy of remembrance.

While at Longwood we have been afforded amazing opportunities, and we have been given many challenges."

(I cut out this next part because the head of the Education dept. covered it in his introductory remarks)
"Our class experienced many ‘firsts’ in the program: we are the first class to fully matriculate in the new January – December schedule and separate blocks of academic and work rotations. We’re the first to be mentored by an incumbent “senior class” then have the chance to mentor the incoming juniors during our second year. We are the first class to travel to Spain. Thanks to Gavin‘s leadership, we’re the first class to embark on an ambitious fund raising project of growing and selling vegetables to Longwood staff and the Terrace Restaurant, ultimately delivering over 1,000 lbs of vegetables to the Terrace chefs (1018 lbs. and 6 oz. to be exact!). We are the first class to maintain not one but two gardens during our stay: our personal gardens on The Row and the new Student Exhibition Gardens, an extraordinary feat requiring team work, ingenuity, lots of sweat, and help from several of Longwood‘s talented staff without whom the gardens would never have happened (there‘s that sharing thing again). Last but not least, we are the first class to graduate in December – and I can’t think of a more joyous season in which to end our time here.

And that’s the real tragedy of the PG program: it ends! Tomorrow we scatter off into different directions and after two years of working, studying, laughing, crying, and living together, who knows when some of us will see each other again? The good news is: we carry Longwood with us. Knowledge we gained here will be applied, associations we’ve made will aid us in our future careers, friendships that have been forged will last a lifetime.

Whenever someone asks me what I enjoy most about the program, I tell them: the people. My classmates are some of the most passionate, intelligent, driven, witty people I’ve ever had the pleasure of being stuck in a room with. They are what make this program so special. As the class spokesperson I feel I have been given bragging rights so I want to take a moment to brag about my classmates:

Greg

Not only is he an expert in the art of Bonsai, he is a consummate master in the art of discovering food. His fashion sense is unparalleled and his wit singular. Greg brought a sense of much needed levity to situations that often threatened to weigh us down. Not only did he rise to the challenges at Longwood, he did it while raising a family. Often sleep deprived and seemingly starved, Greg worked harder than anyone to get to today. If anyone deserves to have their cake and eat it too, it’s Greg!

Steven

No one – and I mean no one – who has ever met Steven can be in any doubt of his enthusiasm. His passion for geophytes is unmatched this side of the Netherlands, and his unrestrained expression of vivacity is inimitable. Memorable moments of him abound, and whenever I see a display of bulbs I’ll recall his voice proclaiming: No bulbs, no Steven!

Hudson

To us, he’s Hudsonia, but to several teenagers in Spain, he’s a rock star! No one who witnessed it will ever forget the throng of admirers who mobbed him at the Alhambra, or how deeply he blushed! But don’t let the rock star façade fool you - Hudson is an artist and is well on his way to forging a creative path for himself. I’ll miss the camera wars to see who took the most pictures during a student trip. Whenever I think of Hudson I’ll think of his smile, and will always remember The Alhambra!

Nate

At the beginning of the program Nate had a little trouble with the clock, earning the unflattering nickname “Late Nate” but his easygoing manner and quick sense of humor endeared him to us all. As I’ve gotten to know him, I’ve found him to be a man of deep caring and faith-filled passion, with an artist’s view of the natural world and a poet’s heart. His ability to get along with everyone, his willingness to always lend a hand..(this is where I choked up and had to pause or risk drenching the Director's notes on the podium)...and his steadfast friendship will always make me think of him as “Great Nate”.

Shannon

With impeccable comedic timing and a radiant smile, Shannon has an uncanny ability to elevate even the most tedious subject to memorable heights (not that any of our studies were ever tedious). As some of our instructors can attest, she launched our studies into new and unexpected directions – just ascus and we’ll tell you! As design partners in the Student Exhibition Garden, I’m the one who had it easy, and her hard work and dedication have constantly inspired me.

Emma

Beautiful in both countenance and spirit, it is her musical laugh that I’ll remember most. It’s the laugh of someone who absolutely embraces life. She has a love of people that has given her the ability to navigate vastly different social circles, from plant geeks to foodies. Her talents are endless and her passion is infectious (I had a note to insert joke a from plant pathology here, but that’s really Shannon’s job).

Gavin

If there’s something that needs doing, he’s the guy to get ‘er done. Gavin puts the Energizer Bunny to shame. During a work rotation at the nursery he earned the nickname The Subordinator (if you don't know what that means, ask a horticulturist!). Between the regular work day, studying for night classes, maintaining his gardens, running his business, and practicing guitar, I figured he worked about 87 hours a day, and could often be heard proclaiming the motto: I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Nothing gets him down, and with his faith to strengthen him, he’ll be a force to reckon with!

Me

As an aspiring historian and class spokesman I’ve been able to boast about my classmates and our accomplishments. I’ve seen places that I never dreamed I’d see, have met people who made indelible marks on my life, and got to live here, which makes me the luckiest person on the planet! And when I write my book, be warned that no names will be changed because there are no innocent to protect!

We are the PG Class of December 2010. We are proud to be part of Longwood’s legacy and we hope the legacy we leave behind is one that Pierre DuPont would be equally proud of. We’ve worked hard to make things better for those who follow and to them - the Class of 2011 - I offer this charge: You will get out of this program as much as you put in, if not more. Work hard and don’t squander the opportunities you’ve been given. We walk among giants here. But they’re friendly giants, and they’re willing to help you succeed. Get to know them, work with them, learn from them, and let them share what they know so that you can pass it on.

To the talented staff at Longwood, our new friends from other gardens, and our families who have supported and encouraged us during this adventure: we would not be here without you.

It seems such an insufficient end - only two small words - but they are imbued with the fullest sense of meaning: Thank you!"

To everyone at Longwood, the PG Alumni Association, our friends at Chanticleer, the Delaware Center for Horticulture, and other gardens I'm sure I'm forgetting, my instructors, mentors, and especially my classmates: you've changed my life and I will never forget you!

The PG Class of December 2010

Chanticleer - A Pleasure Garden

2010-10-31T22:32:00.167-04:00

Chanticleer is a pleasure garden not far from Longwood where we PG students spend a few weekend days each summer volunteering our time and working alongside their expert gardeners. It's a stunning garden full of artistry, poetry, whimsy, and mastery. During the summer you can take a picnic on Friday nights, find your favorite spot and munch.

A local author recently wrote a book in the garden over the course of two years. It's really a series of essays and observations she made during her weekly visits, which began on her 41st birthday. Seeking answers to angst-ridden questions, she would wander the garden, talk to people, think, and write. Personally, I found her claim that being 41 meant she was "middle-aged" rather offensive and bristled at the suggestion that such a term could be applied to me. Granted, if I live to be 84, I am currently at the midway point of my lifespan but I refuse to consider myself middle-aged in the accepted anthropological sense. Then I look in the mirror, notice a little more tinsel in my hair and think maybe it's just one of those inevitable things that I should just accept and get on with...

Nah!

Anyway, reading the book did inspire me to visit Chanticleer on closing day. It was a gorgeous fall day, the color was glowing, the air was crisp and crystal and smelled like autumn. Armed with my camera, notebook, and steaming Earl Grey latte, I spent the afternoon wandering in bliss. Here's a look at the garden from spring through summer and fall as seen from my lens.

Chairs are everywhere at Chanticleer, a constant invitation to sit and linger

It may not look it, but this stone couch is actually quite comfortable

No couch is complete without a remote. The buttons stick, but the shows are well worth watching.

The Ruin Garden

Yes, I've gotten to swim in this pool!

My design in the gravel. It was supposed to rain that day so I thought rain drops on water a fitting muse.

The still water in the sarcophagus table makes a perfect reflection of the Ruin gardens

Fall blooming Toad Lily (Tricyrtis hirta)

Summer's sunflowers are done. I'm not sure but I think the Sorghum may have been from last year.

Even the arrangements in the restrooms are stunning!

Beneath the leaves is a statue of a girl frolicking with the guppies. Some call her 'the drowning girl', the gardeners at Chanticleer call her 'Teeny'.

Spring is in the air

2010-10-26T22:18:00.033-04:00

Ok, maybe fall is in the air but spring is definitely in the ground! All 150,000 tulips, narcissi, crocus, and fritillaria worth! Check out what happens on the Brick Walk when about 150,000 bulbs (give or take 25,000), about 20 staff and students (give or take another dozen), and a supply of ibuprofen get together!

With a rare free day in our academic schedule my classmates and I found ourselves on the Brick Walk this fine - and freakishly warm - autumn morn. Our mission - to take this plan:

With these bulbs (and a few others):

And get them into the ground before the rain hits. Or Friday. Whichever comes first! First the beds are ammended, tilled, and graded.

Next, the bulbs are meticulously laid out according to the plan. By meticulous I mean that spacing is measured using wooden plant labels cut to the desired length. Some bulbs are spaced 3" apart, some are 5", depending on the variety. This is my progress on placing these Foxtrot tulips in the pink border.

The plastic pots mark the future location of spring annuals.

You can kind of see the patterns here - imagine riotous drifts of color...

After lunch, planting begins!

Interesting technique, eh?

Once in the ground, the bulbs are tucked in and covered with deer netting to keep the squirrels out. Soon as they begin to break through the soil, we'll put up an electronic deer fence at night to keep the hungry critters from browsing the display away. Come April, you'll see something like this!

Photo: Longwood Gardens Digital Gallery 2009

Worth it? Heck, yeah! Now pass me that bottle of aspirin!

Sittin' on the dock of Chesapeake Bay

2010-10-25T21:46:00.000-04:00

This week's ecology trip took us on a bumpy van ride to the Chesapeake Bay Environmental Center. With 510 acres under conservation, this former cattle, tobacco, wheat, and soy farm has become a model for natural restoration and conservation methods.

Our first encounter with the native wildlife was a Terrapin crossing the road as we cruised to the parking lot. It narrowly avoided becoming turtle soup!

Our guides for the day took us to different areas of the property where different types of conservation and restoration were taking place. The first stop was this small cove, a living shore line. Previously it had been overgrown and the view from a waterfront house obscured by invasive plants. The cove was cleared of unwanted vegetation and restored to resemble a natural habitat to lure local wildlife back for nesting and spawning. Plants were chosen for their nativity and ability to control erosion: Smooth Cordgrass (Spartina alterniflora), Saltmeadow Hay (Spartina patens), and Switchgrass (Panicum virgatum). Incidentally, Saltmeadow Hay was used in the 1800's to stuff cheap mattresses and later the cushions of early automobiles.

What you can barely see in this photo is a bio-log. A what? A bio log. A log made from coconut fibers. Well, why not use a regular log, you ask? And what is the log for anyway? You've come to the right place because I'm going to tell you! Coir products have been used in the landscape industry for erosion control for eons. You've probably seen jute or coir blankets on slopes that have been recently graded or seeded to keep the soil from sliding down to the bottom until the planting takes hold. The logs do the same job only better where revegetating areas next to a shore line is concerned. The logs are made from compressed coir fibers in a tubular mesh netting and will biodegrade in 4 years or so. In the meantime, they keep the sandy soil from washing away with the tide and since they're a natural product, they provide a bit of organic matter to the site. The logs are made in Sri Lanka and we were told that a recent visitor from India who was studying the Center's methods inquired as to where he might be able to procure the logs, and was surprised to learn they were being produced in his own backyard! Small world, eh?

Way out in the bay there's also a man-made oyster bar and and artificial reef made from the recycled rubble of the Memorial Stadium demolition. The project was done wholistically, meaning the shore line, oyster bar, and reef were tackled simultaneously, not piecemeal. The project was completed in 2002. The following year Hurricane Isabel hit. After clean up, the area has been allowed to 'go native' insofar as the grasses that were planted were allowed to grow and the returning wildlife have imported seed from other native plants that have since established. All the plants installed by man were planted by hand, namely lots of school children and volunteers. The oyster bar was seeded with 7-million oysters. Interesting thing about our little mollusk friends - besides making a tasty Valentine's Day hors d'œuvre or spitting out pearls, they filter between 100-150 gallons of water a day. The current population is only about 1% of historic numbers due to pollution, fishing, etc., so improving water quality is a big deal when it comes to reestablishing the oyster population.

Even with all the native plants, invasives still, uh, invade. The mighty Phragmites is one such invader, colonizing and choking waterways far and wide. This pugnacious perennial can travel up to 1/4 mile, seeking out and destroying native habitat. The most effective control measures involve fire and lots of digging. The Center has tackled it with a combined strategy of burning and spraying with an aquatic safe herbicide with an enzyme that is specific to eradicating the weed. Stands of Phragmites claimed 10 acres of shoreline from one of the Center's fresh water lakes. Once the Phragmites was beaten back, the lake rebounded to 22 acres. One of the Center's goals is to educate waterfront homeowners about what they can do to help restore the bay, like retrofitting their septic system with a filter that can capture up to 90% of the nitrogen produced by a home septic system. Less nitrogen being dumped in the water means fewer of those algae blooms we keep reading about, and less harm to the fish and other organisms in the bay and ocean.

This area of marsh grass was very cool - acres of tide marsh pock-marked with brackish pools. A boardwalk led across the marsh to a look-out deck then continued to the shore.

This was my first encounter with a horseshoe crab. Being dead didn't lessen its formidable appearance. This is another ocean dweller whose numbers are declining from being overharvested. This one is female and measured over a foot long. Her male companion is in the background and is less than half her size.

Here she is with a blue crab shell for scale. Turns out these guys are good for measuring the quality of the ocean water. A compound made from the crab's blood can be used to measure bacteria and toxins in the water.

Another shoreline plant oddity is this squiggly mess. It's Salicornia, otherwise known as Glasswort. It's a succulent salt marsh dweller that is also edible. Supposedly it's delicious sauteed in butter and olive oil. Eaten raw, it tastes remarkably like ocean. Butterfly larvae like it, too, making it a valuable wildlife food source. Why the name Glasswort? Boy, you're just full of questions today, aren't you? Well, it's your lucky day - the ashes of Salicornia, Saltwort plants, and kelp were a source of sodium carbonate, used in glassmaking.

The Center's switchgrass meadow, which used to be the site of an ultralight runway (you know, those little one-seater airplane jobbers that are used to lead flocks of geese to wherever geese are supposed to go. If you saw the film Fly Away Home, you know what I'm talking about) is managed but is being allowed to undergo succession - to a point. Succession is where one plant community replaces another. It's a common natural phenomena that occurs in disturbed sites. This area is kept as a meadow by prescribed burning every three to five years. Burning controls invasive weed species while allowing the grasses to rejuvenate.

Another resident critter was this cute little snake. He happened across our path as we were walking to see the owls. Our guide told us this one must have been the offspring of a snake that lives under their office because is was smaller than the other one. Given this one measured a good 5-feet, I wasn't too worried about not getting a glimpse of mama!

As I said, we were on our way to see the owls.

It's always cool to get a peek at wildlife up close and personal - or at least as close and personal as a chain link fence will let you get - but there was also something dispiriting about seeing them confined. I couldn't help but think about the hawks soaring over the forest at Longwood and tried to imagine these magnificent birds floating through the night air. I hope they were rescued, and that their life now is better and longer than what it might have been. These enclosures were the only thing about this nature preserve that was glaringly unnatural.

Returning to our van, a few of us plucked bunches of wild grapes from the vines rampaging over the bayberry shrubs (boy, did they make you pucker!). How many field trips offer lessons in restoration techniques, a peek at oceanic wildlife habitat, and a natural snack?! The Chesapeake Bay Environmental Center gets a big thumbs up from me!

Seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness

2010-10-17T20:41:00.007-04:00

Fall is here, bringing the crunch and rustle of fallen leaves, forest color mosaics, golden autumn light, and a slight chill in the air. What better way to enjoy it than to go for a walk in the back yard?

May your rivers flow without end

2010-10-11T20:56:00.002-04:00

Living in So Cal I tended to encounter two types of people: beach people and mountain people. You'd think, given my proximity to the ocean and the fact that I learned how to swim before I learned how to walk, that I would be a beach person. I wasn't. Nor was I a mountain person. Thus I was forced to dither about in a sort of no-man's land. Having now lived on the East Coast for the past few years, I finally discovered a new category in which to place myself: I'm a stream person. Stream people are not to be confused with river rats - rivers are too large and moody for my taste. Take the Brandywine River, which overflowed its banks and flooded Route 1 in the last big storm. Because of that, I was forced to sit in traffic for over an hour, finally abandoning my intended destination in order to take the long way home, which meant another 45 minutes on the road. All that to go 5 miles, and all because the river had to go and throw a hissy and cover the street, which put me in a bad mood as well.

Streams are much more my speed - they meander and talk to you in a pleasant splashy gurgle, wandering through leafy glades or tranquil woodlands, never seeming to be in a hurry unless they decide to scamper playfully for a bit before again assuming their leisurely pace. And you can usually find the occasional water fowl or forest critter frolicking in a pool or basking in the sun bank side, perusing the latest issue of Forest Weekly. Rivers are good for those with power boats or jet skis, streams are calming and, with the amount of coursework being piled on us, I'll take calm any way I can get it! This is why one of my all time favorite places to relax and enjoy a good meal is on the patio at a local tavern. This is what I get to look at while I eat:

And so it happened that today's ecological learning expedition (fancy talk for 'field trip') turned out to be quite enjoyable for me because it was focused on a stream. The Stroud Water Research Center in Avondale, PA was founded 40 years ago by a woman named Ruth Patrick. Ms. Patrick was a scientist with the Academy of Natural Sciences and found herself being asked about the health of local waterways, which she was unable to ascertain because she had never seen a 'healthy' stream. She urged her friends, Joan and Dick Stroud, to establish a lab dedicated to freshwater research on their farm in Chester County. Since the White Clay Creek flows through the property, it made perfect sense to the Strouds, and the Stroud Water Research Center was born.

Now covering over 1000 acres, the center studies how manipulating the land affects water quality. With over 40 years' worth of data on the White Clay Creek, I'd say they've gotten pretty good at what they do. They study how water quality and stream life is affected by forestation, reforestation, meadowland, urban development and so on and offered a perfectly logical explanation for why the Brandywine jumped its banks during that storm but the White Clay didn't. You see, when rain falls on a forest the water is slowed by the leaves and spread out over a larger area. It also flows along the branches and down the trunks to the ground where it has a better chance of soaking into the soil, allowing thirsty roots to slurp it up. This means less run off goes charging into the creek which means less chance of flooding. What water does make its way to the stream does so by percolating through the soil which slows it down quite a bit so the stream isn't overwhelmed. The water level will rise somewhat, but flooding doesn't happen with each and every storm. Compare that to the scenario at the Brandywine where the flood occurred: instead of hitting tree canopies the rain hit rooftops. And instead of being channeled down tree trunks to the ground, it was directed down storm drains to the parking lot. No wonder the river threw a hissy fit!

For those who are fans of our natural watersheds but live in a developed area, take heart. Even you can help prevent wanton water run-off by simply installing a rain barrel to capture rain water. Better yet, plant a rain garden that will help slow water sluicing off your driveway or parking lot. Many municipalities - particularly on the west coast, like this neighborhood in Sun Valley - have begun implementing water management strategies that include rain gardens, infiltration pits, permeable paving, etc. to keep water in the ground instead of allowing it to run willy-nilly into the storm drains.

I also learned that a natural stream meanders. No one knows why water meanders but it does. Even if you pour a stream of water across a smooth surface it won't run in a straight line. There are also different geographies in a stream - there are pools, which are typically deep and still; riffles, where the water moves faster over rocks and gravel; and runs, where the water moves more quickly in a shallower bed without rocks. Given my classmates' uncanny ability to shoot off one-liners and the fact that a few of us are suffering from head colds, I was surprised at the lack of jokes about having a case of the riffles.

Ahem.

Turns out, these features of a stream are more than cosmetic. The riffles serve to oxygenate the water. The runs and pools offer habitats and food sources for all the stream dwellers. Here's another tidbit about natural streams - the leaves from the canopy overhead are what form the basis of the food chain. Whodathunk? This is why, when the state of PA proposed legislation to plant 100 foot buffers of riparian forest along stream banks, native floodplain species such as red maple, river birch, and sycamore became the trees of choice. The leaves fall into the water and provide a food source for the invertebrates which are in turn food sources for the vertebrates, and the merry food chain perpetuates itself. You didn't think fish and ducks all subsist on pellets and breadcrumbs tossed at them by small children and pensioners, did you? Other benefits that trees provide to a natural stream system are the habitats and food stores.

Sometimes a tree dies and falls over, or just plain falls over. At Stroud, the tree is left to decay along the bank or, in the case of the Sycamore above that fell then sent up lateral shoots, is allowed to lay across the stream creating an instant bridge for the resident critters (which really cuts down on commuting when you're a squirrel out acorn shopping) not to mention the fact that certain insects only lay their eggs on the undersides of fallen logs. No fallen logs, no place to lay eggs. No eggs to hatch, no insects. No insects, no food chain. No food chain, no critters. No critters, and your stream is dead, Jim!

Some of the research done at Stroud includes measuring carbon transport through the ecosystem. To do this, material is taken from upstream and collected in tanks where it's allowed to settle for 3-5 days, being gently shaken and stirred to prevent flocculation. The resultant particles, called sestons, are collected. It takes about one cubic meter of stream material to get half a gallon of seston. The particles are mixed with a saline solution and poured into these 30 meter long flumes.

There are four flumes in all, with two covered in bio film to keep the light out. Those two are also treated with a bleach solution so keep them from getting too icky. Rocks and gravel are placed in the flumes to mimic the stream bed and the particles' travel is measured. Similar studies have used fluorescent beads or seed pods from Lycopodium (a type of club moss).

Another study taking place in the greenhouse looks at the effects of phosphorus in the water. In other words, what the stuff that comes out of your washing machine does to your local water system. You're all familiar with TSP - I used to use it to scrub the walls before painting. Turns out trisodium phosphate is one of the chief culprits (along with other eco-unfriendly chemicals) contributing to the algae blooms we keep hearing so much about . The flumes in the greenhouse each contain different levels of phosphorus and, as such, differing levels of algae growth.

The stringy green algae isn't to be confused with the furry brown algae called diatom. Diatom is good. Stringy green gunk is bad. So if you are fortunate enough to own a stream or pond or man-made water feature and notice the rocks and bottom covered in a velvety brown, you are to rejoice knowing that all your microscopic invertebrate friends will never go hungry because Diatom is their most important food source!

Doesn't that make you happy!?

Along with all kinds of highly scientific stuff that's way over my head, Stroud also monitors the stream's water quality. For the last 18 years Stroud has partnered with The White Clay Watershed Association's (WCWA) Stream Watch Program to collect macroinvertebrates (those little guys you can't see without a super-duper microscope but which are the best indication of how healthy - or not - your stream is) and take readings on water chemistry. The map below shows the water quality in several spots along the creek system.

(photo from http://stroudcenter.org/research/streamwatch/study_map.html)

This field trip was not only educational, it was very enjoyable. Where else do you get the chance to learn about such an amazing natural ecological system by actually following the stream on its meandering path? Now when I'm enjoying my lunch on the tavern's patio I'll be able to gaze down into the stream and identify the riffles and runs, will be able to tell with a somewhat educated guess what's causing the stringy green gunk to grow and how to prevent it, and will have a whole new appreciation for the fervor of microscopic life being carried on in so seemingly serene a setting. I don't know about you, but sitting next to a stream contemplating life has just taken on a whole new meaning!

Please Don't Trod On the Sod

2010-10-08T18:47:00.002-04:00

Not yet, anyway.

Yesterday marked the grand opening of Longwood's new East Conservatory Plaza, a celebration of geology and geometry which provides a spacious plaza for guests to relax, enjoy outdoor performances, as well as a stately new entrance to the Conservatory. Designed by London-based landscape architect Kim Wilkie (who drew the concept sketch on a dinner napkin), the Plaza has been four years in the making and, as Director Paul Redman put it, "...creatively fulfills several fundamental human needs."

Mr. Wilkie was inspired by the extraordinary tradition of landforms in his native UK to design the stair-stepped turf terraces and landscaped slope which conceals domed subterranean restroom facilities modeled after the bath houses at Topapki Palace in Istanbul. The new restrooms lie along an arching corridor featuring the largest green wall in North America. The restrooms are expected to be "destination restrooms"; besides being entirely practical, they're very modern in design yet ancient in concept. By being built into the ground, the earth provides insulation while frosted skylights admit natural lighting - both efficient energy savers. They are also roomy enough to roller skate in! Access to the restrooms is via a lush leafy corridor that envelopes you with plants. Built by Ambius, the plant-covered wall consists of 3,590 stainless steel panels on a stainless steel frame, covers 4,070 square feet of space, and holds enough plant material to produce as much oxygen as 90 tall trees. The conservatory-like glass ceiling overhead admits more natural light.

Today in the first annual Leadership in Landscapes symposium hosted by Longwood, Mr. Wilkie shared with us some of his other projects and their inspirations. Wouldn't you know they're mostly in England. Guess I'll have to go back there and see them for myself! For now, I can't wait for the effects of the recent deluge to dissipate so I can enjoy the grassy steps at Longwood as they were meant to be enjoyed.

Here's a sneak peek at the new East Conservatory Plaza!

Mr. Wilkie at the Leadership In Landscapes symposium

The sight line from the Ballroom out to the new East Plaza

The newly completed East Conservatory Plaza

The largest green wall in North America!

I love where I live!!!

Plant Ecology and Sustainable Practices

2010-10-07T08:14:00.000-04:00

Thoreau wrote, "If a man walks in the woods for love of them half of each day, he is in danger of being regarded as a loafer. But if he spends his days as a speculator, shearing off those woods and making the earth bald before her time, he is deemed an industrious and enterprising citizen."

In this, our last term of classes at Longwood (wah!), one of the subjects we will learn more about is Plant Ecology and Sustainable Practices. You've all heard the buzzwords: "sustainability", "green", "eco-friendly", etc. and their attendant semantics and philosophies, so I won't bore you with more repetition. Besides, the class has just started and we're still delving into what those definitions and philosophies may mean to us as plant and nature geeks and how we will implement them in our future careers in horticulture. I bet Thoreau was a fan, though.

What I do know is that Longwood's existence is totally owed to a man who was both industrious and enterprising yet practiced these philosophies before the buzzwords were ever thought of. He bought Longwood to save the trees which is as 'eco' a move as I ever saw, made at a time in history when industry and technology were booming and nature was beginning to fade from the forefront of public thought. Indeed, Pierre DuPont was one of the heirs of the DuPont Company legacy which was built on emerging technological discoveries - he lead the company in innovations in chemistry, advancing technology, and industry. He was a very forward-thinking man but still very much in tune with the important role of nature and mankind's relationship with it. When he heard that the 200+ year old trees in Pierce's Park were to be cut for lumber, he secured their survival by buying the property lock, stock, and forest. To this day, many of those trees survive and the extensive allee of them in Pierce's Park are what give Longwood its name.

Imagine, then, the impassioned debates attending the decision to raze a mile long swath of old growth forest in order to move a road that runs smack through the middle of Longwood's vast acreage. That's what is currently happening along the eastern perimeter of Longwood as Route 52, which bisects the property between the managed meadow and historic Webb Barn areas, is being relocated. Part of the road will remain to provide maintenance access for Longwood and also public access to the Indian Hannah monument, the northern half will be removed and the creek that runs alongside the road will be restored along with more meadow and forest planting where the removal takes place.

Those discussions began about 25 years ago when PennDot entered into negotiations with Longwood to relocate the roadway. There were several reasons, safety being one of them. Accidents are commonplace along this stretch of road due to sharp curves and a wonky intersection at Rte. 926, not to mention motor vehicle operator stupidity. Longwood's then director saw it as an opportunity to rejoin the two halves of the property and proposed a partnership. Longwood covered the costs of design and environmental impact studies - somewhere in the neighborhood of $3-4 million - which is quite a bargain compared to the $15 mil that PennDot is footing for all the rest. Work on the actual roadway started about two months ago. All that can be seen at this time is that a giant corridor has been cut in the forest but we were given a glimpse of just how much work goes on behind the scenes with a project of this magnitude.

Remember last May when I was in Perimeter and was dropped in the woods to hunt for native Trilliums? It was in preparation for this project. The native plants were saved and transplanted to other wooded areas in the garden (and they're doing very well these days, thank you). Surveys were done, trees were assessed and inventoried, impact to wildlife and the watershed were extensively studied, noise levels and views affecting nearby neighborhoods were considered, and plans to mitigate those impacts were put into place. Longwood's Land Steward Specialist, Tom, who is heavily involved in the reforestation plans, gave us a tour of the impact site.

Go ahead. Say it. Village People. We thought of it, too!

According to Tom, Longwood forked out a bit extra to be able to manage the planting and reforestation scope of the project so they would have the freedom to go above and beyond what was legally mandated and so they could choose the best contractor for the job, rather than rely on the government's selection process which would likely land on the lowest bidder, not necessarily the best qualified to do the work. This enabled Longwood to look at the geology of the site and choose native species in similar plant communities that would thrive and provide a layered canopy in the different soil conditions throughout the site. Plants for reforestation and aforestation (taking a site such as an agricultural field and turning it into a woodland) were chosen based on their ability to thrive in a disturbed site, their wildlife habitat value, ability to adapt to increased and decreased sunlight, etc.

Anyone who has studied landscape design, horticulture, natural ecology, or any related subjects knows that a disturbed site becomes vulnerable to invasive plant and animal species. Just watch a vacant lot over time to see what grows. Seeds are blown in by the clever north wind or carried in by birds and furry critters then take advantage of the lack of native competition to monopolize the site. Unlike many municipal projects which are typically finished then forgotten, Longwood will be diligently managing the site for decades -eradicating invasives, planting and replanting to ensure a healthy rebuilding of the fragile forest ecosystem. Once the new roadway is completed, the bare areas will be seeded with annual grass cover to control erosion and the first phase of reforestation will begin. First they'll start with the mighty oak. Quercus is the genus that best meets the above criteria and will provide the building blocks of the new forest community. Following are the Maples, Beeches, Hickories, and Tulip Trees (the fairy tale lover in me just flashed to the Entmoot from Lord of the Rings. Yes, I know I'm a geek. So what's new?). The goal is to have canopy closure (where the highest branches interlace) in 15 years to create shade underneath and suppress sun-loving invasives. Mid-canopy will be woodland shrubs such as Shadblow Serviceberry, Hornbeam, Dogwood, and Viburnums. The forest floor will hopefully be repopulated with more natives such as the Trilliums we so carefully preserved.

Tom told us about the impact on plants and animals in the forest interior, 300-feet in from the wood's edge. The new road goes right through the interior, creating new edges and new environmental disturbances such as increased sunlight coveted by plants with thuggish habits and wildlife habitat disruption. Longwood's reforestation efforts seeks to help repair those damaged edges over time and restore the habitats. How many townships or cities do you know that would think about doing that?

One thing I like very much about the planting plan is the size of trees being planted. Most of the thousands (22 acres worth) of trees being spec'd out are no larger than 2" in caliper, most less than 1". Why not plant larger trees, you ask, and give the new forest a running start? Besides the issue of cost for 12,000 or more trees, larger trees are more susceptible to mortality and require more water. Since there is no irrigation system, they must rely on natural rainfall and in a year like this one, that isn't guaranteed which means someone has to go out there for three or four years and water all those new trees to get them established. In that time, a 1/2" caliper sapling will be just as big if not bigger than a 6" caliper tree, will be much healthier, not to mention less expensive. It's a philosophy I could never get my clients in the gotta-have-it-now private sector to embrace: bigger is not always better.

One of the things we learned from Tom is just how devastating a project like this can be on so many levels. You might think that was obvious, looking at the carnage of just the past two months, but he illuminated many other factors that I never would have thought about. Let's talk about what a project like this does to water and what water does to it. Berms are going to be built, the road corridor is going to be cut below the natural grade, a previously unknown natural spring was uncovered, and two existing ponds are smack in the middle of the new road's pathway. Water's got to go somewhere. What to do with the water? Answer: work with it. The project includes several detention and infiltration basins to control water flow and redistribute it to recharge ground water.

The storm that came through this week offered the perfect illustration of what can happen during a severe storm event when the Brandywine and many of its tributaries overflowed their banks, flooding property and closing roads. The surge of water also blew out two temporary dams in the construction zone and carried the rip-rap down into the creek. The basins built as part of the Route 52 project will help to distribute excess water so the creek system isn't overwhelmed in the event of a serious rainfall. It also redirects water back to the ground table, rather than the storm drains. To preserve the wetlands and ponds as much as possible, a 500-foot bridge will span the gap over the ponds just south of the Webb Barn property.

I've always been in favor of preservation over destruction but sometimes destruction is unavoidable. After hearing about the Route 52 relocation project for the past two years and all the questions about the impact on the environment and how it relates to Longwood's legacy of land stewardship, it was cool to learn about the measures being taken to reduce the project's negative impact on the land as well as the plans and goals to mitigate and repair that damage as much as possible. It felt a little eery to stand in the same spot where I hunted Trilliums over a year ago and see it so changed and exposed, but there is something heartening about knowing that a baby forest will be planted and watching it grow over the next few decades. I'm grateful for the few days I got to loaf in the woods and, thanks to the education Longwood is giving us, have a whole new appreciation for the thought that must go into balancing industry and enterprise with nature.

IPM

2010-08-15T21:09:00.017-04:00

During the month of July I spent my time working in IPM. IPM is an acronym for Integrated Pest Management but I've also heard it called Integrated Pest Murder, which is not entirely but sorta-kinda one of the things that IPM entails (just don't let my Entomology instructor hear me say that!).

While the definition of IPM likewise varies, the bottom line is this: to manage pest populations and minimize their damage to ornamental and agricultural plant crops without automatically reaching for evil, noxious chemicals. This means protecting people, animals, and the environment by employing biological controls, known as "the good guys" (or "beneficials" if you want to be really scientific about it) such as Lady Bugs, Praying Mantis, Mealy Bug Destroyers, those kinds of things, and using the least harmful chemicals available before resorting to the big guns.

I learned a lot in IPM, not just about bugs, but about how Longwood goes about protecting the health of its plants. One way is this:

No, it's not a makeshift coffee brewer. Close, though. It's compost tea. Every week the IPM crew brews about 14 buckets of compost tea for use in the Pierce's Woods area and inside the conservatory. This entails filling mesh bags with fresh compost, tying them to the bucket handle, filling the buckets with water and letting them steep overnight with the help of aeration devices like the ones you'd see in an aquarium. Come morning, presto! Compost tea! Everyone knows how good compost is for the soil with all the nutrients and microbes that feed the plants. Compost tea offers the same benefits. You probably don't want to pour this stuff on full-strength, so the tea is diluted with plain water then the plants are irrigated with it. And what living organism doesn't love a nice cup of tea!

Our work carried us outdoors and in and back again as we scouted throughout the property for pests and signs of plant disease. One such sign is this fungus growing on a maple in Pierce's Woods. As best as I've been able to find out it's a shelf fungus, actually the fruiting body of a fungal organism, also called bracket fungus in the phylum Basidiomycota. Some of the websites I visited trying to ID these called it Chicken Mushroom and stated they were edible (apparently everything tastes like chicken!). I wasn't inclined to find out but they have fascinated me almost the whole time I've been at Longwood. Shortly after I first noticed the growths last year, their weight caused them to fall off! They obviously regrew and I estimated the larger one on the bottom to measure about 2' from top to bottom. Signs like this indicate the tree is infected with some sort of pathogen that could potentially kill the tree. These structures are growing on area of the tree that was previously wounded - possibly where a branch was removed - which is an easy entry point for plant pathogens to enter and infect their host.

In another part of the garden I spotted another similar fungal growth and dubbed it the 'Bear and the Honeycomb'. Can you see why?

Doesn't the knot on the tree look like bear's face!?

OK, lest you think I'm nuts for seeing things like bear faces in tree knots, may I remind you that people see far stranger things in the clouds! For instance, one day the intrepid IPM Intern, Keeley, and I were scouting in the Idea Garden and when we returned to our trusty vehicle (a golf cart - THE way to get around the gardens!), we both noticed little brown specks of stuff all over the seat. We looked skyward and exclaimed, "FRASS!!".

Frass, in case you didn't know, is the proper scientific term for 'caterpillar poop'. And it was all over our cart. The culprit? A whole posse of Yellowneck Caterpillar in the branches of a Hawthorn tree directly above us!

So what do we do when we find nemesis such as these? We snipped one of the branches they were munching and took it back to the lab in order to correctly identify the pest (that one was easy - it was the cover model for the pest ID book we used!). Then we ascertain the level of damage they cause and weigh that against the acceptable damage threshold. We notify the section gardener (in this case, he already knew about them. Kind of hard to miss when whole branches of leaves are munched off over night and you have frass everywhere), then we notify the Plant Health Care Division Leader who develops a Plan of Attack. In a case like this, one could use a biological control like Bt (Bacillus thuringiensis), which is a natural soil-dwelling bacteria that specifically targets caterpillars. Because of its specificity, it's considered environmentally friendly as it won't hurt people, animals, or plants.

Other insects we encountered were the obstreperous and omnipresent Cicadas. These guys feed on tree sap and cause scarring on branches. The shells they leave behind after molting can also be a little off-putting but if you're of a mischievous frame of mind (not that I am, no sir!) they're fun to stick on your friends' clothing and see how long before they're noticed (not that I've ever done that, no, not me!).

The IPM department is even breeding its own population of Vedalia Beetle (a relative of the Lady Bug) to combat Cottony Cushion Scale and Mealy Bug in the Conservatories to not only minimize the pest population but the use of chemicals. In order to grow the population, we had to feed them with their favorite snack, which meant collecting vials full of the Cottony Cushion Scale almost daily. Had the infected plants been sprayed with a noxious Cottony Cushion Scale killing chemical, there would be no scale to feed the beetles, hence, no beetles to release in the conservatories to quietly - and safely - eat the scale! Let's not mention how the presence of such a noxious chemical would affect the guest experience! I, for one, was very happy to collect the scale for our little beetle friends knowing I was doing my part to lessen the use of chemicals in the garden!

The thing about spending an entire month looking for bugs is that suddenly you begin to see them everywhere and IPM scouting begins to take on this "I see dead plants" sort of comedic quality. I spotted this guy by chance while walking home through the woods. It and several of its mates were happily munching on a native Ascelpias. This is the larvae of the Spotted Tussock Moth-Lophocampa maculata. Another name for it is Yellow Spotted Tiger Moth, which I think is more accurate since both the larvae and the moth have a yellow tiger-y appearance. They tend to feed on Birch, Maple, and Oak, all of which are abundantly available in the woods near our homes, but these were quite happy feasting on the Milkweed so I let them have at it!

IPM is just one small part of the Plant Health Care Division at Longwood but some of my favorite employees work in this department! Meet Smokey, the Idea Garden's resident IPM cat. Smokey is a full time employee and enjoys benefits such as employee housing and a health plan. He's a good mouser and does his part to keep the rodents from eating the annual flower displays. He can often be seen in the Idea Garden entertaining the guests and is quick to take advantage of an unsuspecting lap. Of the 15 or so IPM cats that call Longwood home, Smokey is my favorite!

One thing's for sure: being a student at Longwood means you are constantly learning new things and making new discoveries - some surprising, some shocking. While with IPM I was able to use my hand lens and occasionally a microscope to peer into the secret world of insects. You just never know what you're going to encounter!

The Generalife

2010-08-10T18:02:00.303-04:00

According to my new friend Washington Irving, who heard it one night about a hundred years ago at a noble feast in the Nasrid Palace, the palace and gardens of Generalife were built by one of Granada's early kings in order to keep his young son and heir sequestered from the world so that he would remain ignorant about that idle passion called love, and therefore not ruin his life. A good plan, that, until the King hired an all-knowing sage to teach the prince, threatening the sage with his life if he gave his charge even a hint of what love is all about. The wise tutor kept his word, but he made the fatal mistake of teaching the prince the language of the birds. When the prince reached the tender and hormonal age of 20 he was locked in the highest tower (I thought only maidens were locked in towers?) for writing sonnets to the trees (ah, perhaps that explains it), and chanced to meet with a dove who flew in and explained to him about the, er, well, the birds and the bees.

Ahem.

I wouldn't be surprised to learn that Sangria was flowing rather freely at that feast of Irving's. Nevertheless the Generalife (pronounced hen-er-al-LEE-feh), from the Arabic Jannat al-'Arif‎ or Architect's Garden, was built in the early 1300's as a summer palace and retreat from the drama of courtly life at the Alhambra. To reach the gardens, we walked through what was once the orchard and market gardens dating back to the 1200's. Now they contain geometrically clipped cypress and more water channels. Entering an outer courtyard filled with Jasmine instantly gave me a headache. The scent of the bloom was so thick you had to slice your way through it with a scimitar. This would have been where visitors parked their horses and I wondered if the walls had been papered with such a fragrant vine in the days of the Sultans to mask other more equine scents? Up a short flight of stairs is the entrance to the Generalife gardens. Perhaps the most famous view of the palace is this one:

This is the Patio de la Acequia (Court of the Water Channel). The parallel jets down either side are modern, added in the 19th century. Archaeologists doing excavations after a 1958 fire discovered that the pool did have at least 12 jets in its original design, so the addition of the present spouts is in keeping with the historical renovation of the palace. Originally the garden was laid out in a Char-Bagh style with four sunken flower beds bisected by the water channel which draws water from the Alhambra's Royal Canal (Acequia Real), which provided the palace's water supply, and perpendicularly by a stone walkway at the center of the canal that leads through the arcade into a mirador on the hillside overlooking the gardens and orchards below.

The open arcade is new as well. During the Christian era, sometime in the mid 1600's, the solid wall on that side was replaced with the corridor of repeating arches. Before the arches, the mirador would have been the only place where one could look outside. I tried to imagine how this would have changed the feeling of the space, from an almost entirely enclosed intimate courtyard to the semi-open space it is now and wished for a genie to take me back in time to experience it first hand. Like the Alhambra, decoration of the Generalife was elegant and intricate - Moorish carvings, filigreed lattice, opulent apartments, cooling water features outside and in.

At either end of the courtyard are two small pavilions once used as palace apartments. One has a view of the entire city of Granada and the valley of the Darro River, flowing in the distance below the palace. Throughout its history, many a forlorn prince and princess have sat imprisoned in the Generalife's lofty towers and gazed longingly at the world beyond. This one was no exception...

Through what was once one of the royal bedchambers is another arcade dating back to the 1500's which looks out to the Courtyard of the Cypress or Sultan's Court. This area used to be the palace bath and was converted to a garden during another royal remodel. The water in this garden comes from the Royal Water Channel where it continues through the middle of the Patio de la Acequia on the other side of the wall. From there the water flows out into the market gardens and orchards below where it joins a third water channel called The Third Water Channel (catchy, huh!).

Another legend has it that a Sultana was engaged in an assignation with a knight from the rival Abencerrajes clan under a large cypress tree, kept from falling down now by a large metal brace, when her husband the Sultan came on the scene. The Sultan was so incensed that he massacred all 37 male members of the rival family in a hall of the Alhambra that is now known as the Hall of the Abencerrajes. Reputedly the stains in the fountain basin there are all that remain of that bloody day.

In contrast, the floor of the Sultan's Courtyard is paved in a beautiful pebble mosaic with white pebbles taken from the river Darro and black ones from the river Genil, the only stains here being the ones left by decades of tourists' feet.

On a terrace above the courtyard is a water staircase leading up to yet another small palace, converted to a chapel. The banisters themselves are carved rills which the water runs down and there are basins in the circular landings with water bubbling from the center. Visitors can't resist trailing their hands in the cold water as they ascend the stairs. Some sources say this ingenious water feature is not common to Moorish gardens but was invented by the Egyptians and have been found in Romanized gardens, which is where the Moors probably got the idea. This is the entry point of the water diverted from the river Darro that feeds both the Generalife and Alhambra complexes. Throughout both sites water is celebrated with ornate yet practically functional channels and rills, fountains and basins, all once fed by gravity.

Reaching the top of the water stair, you almost immediately start down again via another stairwell covered in Wisteria. Here terraced gardens filled with clipped hedges, roses, fruit trees, and - yes - more water, step their way down the hillside. At the bottom you enter a corridor covered by Oleander trained to arch over the walkway, providing a shady walk back to the main entrance of the palace grounds. Through the leafy canopy you can catch glimpses of the gardens and fortress of the Alhambra beyond.

I'll bet you're wondering what happened to our love-struck prince? Through his friend the dove, he was introduced to a portrait of a likewise imprisoned princess in a distant land. He escaped the tower, fled in search of his beloved and with the help of a recalcitrant owl and a parrot who was, according to Irving, on very good terms with itself, found her and competed for her hand. Wearing a magic suit of armor and riding a bewitched horse, he vanquished the other princes and the king in a mad rampage which sent the princess into an incurable swoon.

The bereaved prince vowed never to show his face again but when he heard that the king was offering anything within his kingdom as a reward for curing the princess of her delirium, he then dressed himself as a traveler and by playing a little music and reciting the love letter he had sent her via the dove, she snapped out of it and they rode away on a magic carpet - his reward for bringing her back to her former self - and they lived happily ever after.

I'd sure like to know what was in that Sangria, Mr. Irving!

The Alhambra

2010-08-05T08:33:00.000-04:00

When I first saw the fortified castle at Edinburgh brooding over the city atop a hunk of volcanic rock I thought, "Hey! Those Scots really know how to build a fort!". Now I'm wondering if they hired the same consulting firm as the ancient Moors because the Alhambra has some striking similarities. It likewise sits atop a rocky promontory, dominating the Granada skyline. Both contain once opulent but still impressive royal palaces. Both were centers of military activity, execution, murder, romantic intrigue, history making ceremony, and religion. Both are heavily fortified to protect against invasion. And both are absolutely jaw-droppingly magnificent.

The Alhambra's name comes from the Arabic Al-Ḥamrā', which literally means "the red one". The complete form was Al-Qal'at al-Ḥamrā' or "the red fortress" from the color of the red clay of which it was constructed but the ancient Moorish poets called it "a pearl set in emeralds" because the whitewashed walls contrasted with the surrounding forest. From the outside all you see is a solid wall punctuated with watch towers and a few balconies. There is nothing to give you even a hint that there are lush gardens and lavish palaces within.

It was another hot Spanish summer day when we visited the Alhambra and I was struck by the way water was used to convey a sense of cool serenity in the midst of this baking "stony pile". Everywhere we went, water flowed silently in rills along the pathways, burbled cheerfully down stair-step channels, clapped joyfully in fountain jets, and waited serenely in shadowy reflecting pools. Everywhere there was water, carefully controlled.

At the center of the complex is the Palacios Nazaries, or Nasrid Palace, which is actually a series of palaces. Built from the late 13th century, the decoration of the palaces contains some of the best of Moorish and Andalusian art and architecture.

Intricate carved stonework, Islamic horseshoe arches, colorful tessellated tile mosaics and beautifully painted walls stop your breath at every turn.

Most of the palace buildings are quadrangular in structure and contain an open central courtyard. The interior walls facing the courtyards are decorated with columns, arcades, fountains or pools, intricate latticework, and flower beds. One such courtyard is the Patio de los Arrayanes (Court of the Myrtles). Another name is the Patio de la Alberca (Court of the Blessing or Court of the Pond), from the Arabic word birka, meaning "pool". At one end of the birka a single jet rises ruffling the surface of the water. The jet wasn't running the day we were there so the surface of the pool offered a still reflection of the surrounding architecture. Notice the latticework on the upper balcony. It is said that the King's harem could watch the goings on in the courtyard below while remaining modestly concealed.

The Hall of Comares, otherwise known as the Throne Room, is the largest room in the Tower of Comares. It was here in 1492 that Christopher Columbus waited on Their Royal Personages Ferdinand and Isabella, dazzling them with his PowerPoint presentations and colored pie charts to convince them that funding his voyage around the world was really a pretty good idea. And aren't we glad he did!

The domed ceiling in the Hall of Comares is an artistic and structural masterpiece of inlaid circles, crowns, and stars. A room fit for a King - or Queen - indeed.

Through the Hall of the Muqarnas is the Patio of Lions, famed for its fountain featuring 12 spouting lions. The fountain and courtyard is currently undergoing an extensive renovation which means I'll have to go back when it's complete!

The ceiling in the Hall of the Abencerrages will inspire awe and a sore neck, because all you want to do is stand there and stare up at it! The most notable feature is the eight-point stalactite star of the cupola that spreads out into eight trunk-like stalactites carved from stone. Sunlight streams through latticed windows to illuminate the intricate scroll work on the walls.

In the early 1800's our compatriot Washington Irving lived for a time as a guest of the palace. It was during this time that he enjoyed leisurely strolls through the grounds, midnight ramblings through deserted apartments, and long talks with his Spanish factotum, who regaled him with many a tall tale of the Alhambra and its inhabitants. It was in Mr. Irving's apartment that our own classmate met with a rabid pre-teen Spanish fan following who insisted on posing with him for a picture!

Every time we passed their group afterward, they would point and call his name, giggling! I've never seen a guy blush so easily!

Throughout the palace garden courtyards could be seen and heard from every window or balcony. Always there was the sound of water, always a shady glade offering a cool respite from the summer heat.

The Alhambra is one of those places so steeped in history that it positively drips from the rafters, and every room, every nook, every piece of carved and painted stone has a story behind it. If you have the immense fortune to go there, plan on two full days to see it all. And one night. I can't wait to go back again and spend more time investigating it. Having seen it the once, I can't even come close to doing it justice here so I'll leave you with some of the images that made me stop and give up ever finding the words to describe what I felt.

Yup. Those ancient folks sure knew how to build a fort!

We Interrupt This Broadcast To Bring You A Special Bulletin

2010-08-04T21:22:00.042-04:00

As I've been s-l-o-w-l-y blogging about our Spanish adventures, life at Longwood continues apace and a whole two months of work and gardening has gone by with no mention. Time to fix that! So here's an update on the Student Exhibition Garden: it grew!!!

Things really took a leap while we were away in June, and the scorching heat of July didn't really make a dent in our garden, except for the potted Pennisetum, which we toyed with keeping as an homage to the neglect often found in city gardens. In the end we decided to take it out and replace it with something a little less thirsty!

Our Schizachyrium has filled in nicely and as we were doing maintenance the other day, we wondered how it would look if it were trimmed in a spiral? I haven't been daring enough to try it yet!

Maintenance has been surprisingly simple and not as time consuming as I imagined. We spend about an hour a week grooming the containers, trimming vines, and deadheading. Weeds haven't been much of an issue, except for the persistence of the Wisteria that keeps coming up (a Wisteria covered arbor once occupied a portion of our garden and the suckers are a constant reminder of what once was). During the heat wave we had to water the containers and some of the in-ground plants daily. One day when I went out to water I found a visitor napping in the Carex pennsylvanica. I'm such a sucker for the cats here that I didn't want to spoil her nap! Needless to say, the watering didn't happen that day and the plants were just fine!

Every time I go to the Exhibition Gardens I have to remind myself to stop and look around, to try and see it with a visitor's eye. When I do that, I'm constantly amazed and quite proud of my fellow classmates and our accomplishment! All of the gardens look amazing!

This is our neighbor, Fragrance From the Four Corners of the World, featuring fragrant plants native to the four main continents of the globe:

And across the way is Fragrance Flows with their awesome railroad tie 'water wheels' of fragrant plants:

Spheres of Fragrance never ceases to amaze me. Our classmates just didn't know how they were going to pull this one off but they did! The vibrant colors and textures of this garden make it my favorite. And the awesome burgundy foliage? Rice!! Which they grew from seed!

One of the most gratifying aspects of this project has been the positive feedback and compliments - not from Longwood staff, though they have been profuse in their praise - from Longwood guests visiting the gardens! Through new interactive technology, guests can dial a number on their cell phone and hear us talk about the garden. They can also leave a comment, which many have done.

To hear our message, dial 610-717-5599 then press 125#. The gardens are at their peak, so if you're nearby now is the time to see them. The next PG class is already designing the gardens they'll build in these spaces next year, so be sure to come back next year as well and see what new and exciting designs the students are bringing to Longwood!

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming...

Sublimity

2010-07-24T18:48:00.042-04:00

sub·lime: [suh-blahym] adjective, noun, verb, -limed, -lim·ing.
–adjective
1. elevated or lofty in thought, language, etc.: Paradise Lost is sublime poetry.

2. impressing the mind with a sense of grandeur or power; inspiring awe, veneration, etc.: Switzerland has sublime scenery.

3. Archaic: raised high; high up.

–verb (used with object)
1. to make higher, nobler, or purer.

—Synonyms 1. exalted, noble. 2. magnificent, superb, august, grand, gorgeous, resplendent, imposing, majestic.

In his Tales of the Alhambra, my new friend Washington Irving wrote, "There is something...in the sternly simple features of the Spanish landscape that impresses the soul with a feeling of sublimity". In my opinion, that couldn't be more true than when beholding the landscape of Granada and the imposing walls of the Alhambra high up on the rocky hillside.

If the name Washington Irving doesn't ring a bell, perhaps you'll know him by the tales he penned that take place a little closer to home, such as Rip Van Winkle or The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I can hear the light bulbs coming on and the collective, "Ooooohhhh! THAT Washington Irving!" (I've been to Sleepy Hollow, by the way, and felt a little thrill in the ribcage when I saw the sign upon entering the decidedly awake and utterly charming little hamlet.)

Well, in addition to his success as a story teller, essayist, editor, soldier, and all-around busy guy, he was also a diplomat and traveled extensively throughout Spain as its U.S. minister in the early to mid 1800's. I picked up The Tales of the Alhambra while visiting the Alhambra and have been reading and re-reading it ever since. It was in the room in Alhambra's Nasrid Palace with a plaque dedicated to Irving and his prodigeous scribbling that my classmate Hudson encountered an impressive fan following of Spanish pre-teens.

But I've gone too far ahead already - I'm supposed to be telling you about our visit to the Alhambra: The city of Granada, the Alhambra, the Generalife - all were by far my favorite part of visiting Spain. The history is awe-inspiring, to say nothing of the architecture and craftsmanship that went into building the fortress, palaces, and their gardens. I wish I had Irving's way with words and could describe it the way he did, but I don't so I'll let him introduce the place to you:

"The peculiar charm of this old dreamy palace is its power of calling up vague reveries and picturings of the past, and thus clothing naked realities with the illusions of the memory and the imagination....Here the hand of time has fallen the lightest and the traces of Moorish elegance and splendour exist in almost their original brilliancy.

Earthquakes have shaken the foundations of this pile and rent its rudest towers, yet see, not one of those slender columns has been displaced, not an arch of that light and fragile colonnade has given way, and all the fairy fretwork of those domes, apparently as unsubstantial as the crystal fabrics of a morning's frost, yet exist after the lapse of centuries, almost as fresh as if from the hand of the Moslem artist.

I write in the midst of the mementoes of the past, in the fresh hour of early morning, in the fated Hall of the Abencerrages. The blood-stained fountain, the legendary monument of their massacre, is before me; the lofty jet almost casts its dew upon my paper. How difficult to reconcile the ancient tale of violence and blood with the gentle and peaceful scene around! Everything here appears calculated to inspire kind and happy feelings, for everything is delicate and beautiful. The very light falls tenderly from above through the lantern of a dome tinted and wrought as if by fairy hands.

Through the ample and fretted arch of the portal I behold the Court of Lions with brilliant sunshine gleaming along its colonnades and sparkling in its fountains. The lively swallow dives into the Court and then surging upwards darts away twittering over the roofs; the busy bee toils humming among the flower-beds and painted butterflies hover from plant to plant and flutter up and sport with each other in the sunny air. It needs but a slight exertion of the fancy to picture some pensive beauty of the harem, loitering in these secluded haunts of Oriental luxury.

He, however, who would behold this scene under an aspect more in unison with its fortunes, let him come when the shadows of evening temper the brightness of the Court and throw a gloom in to the surrounding halls. Then nothing can be more serenely melancholy or more in harmony with the tale of departed grandeur.

***

"To the traveller imbued with a feeling for the historical and poetical, the Alhambra of Granada is as much as object of veneration as is the Kaaba or sacred house of Mecca to all true Moslem pilgrims. How many legends and traditions, true and fabulous, of love and war and chivalry are associated with this romantic pile! The following papers are the result of my reveries and researches during that delicious thraldrom. If they have the power of imparting any of the witching charms of the place to the imagination of the reader, he will not repine at lingering with me for a season in the legendary halls of the Alhambra."

From The Tales of the Alhambra by Washington Irving, published 1832.

Barcelona - Agua, Agua, Por Todas Partes

2010-07-18T11:12:00.033-04:00

What do you do when you're a wealthy engineer with extensive property who has a thing for hydraulics? You dot your extensive property with illuminated fountains, of course! That's exactly what Pierre S. DuPont did at Longwood. A visit to the World's Columbian Exhibition in 1903 gave a young Pierre a fountain of ideas. Inspiration came from all over the globe - French, Italian, Moorish - making Longwood famous for its water features.

When we heard about the fountain show at Montjuic in Barcelona, we couldn't but wonder if the DuPonts saw the fountains there? And we couldn't leave without seeing them for ourselves.

Font màgica de Montjuïc at the head of Avenida Maria Cristina was proposed, built, and opened in a year, just in time for the 1929 Great Universal Exhibition. With the imposing National Museum of Art of Catalonia as a backdrop, the views of Barcelona from the top are stunning.

On our last evening in Barcelona, some of us decided to see the fountain show. We emerged from the Metro stop, rounded the corner, and basically stopped in our tracks. It's amazing the difference a little light and water can make in a landscape.

Yeah, I think Pierre would have been impressed!

Barcelona - Parc del Laberint d'Horta

2010-07-17T06:43:00.067-04:00

The Parc del Laberint d'Horta is an emerald in the ring road surrounding Barcelona. Named for the labyrinth of clipped cypress at its center, the garden is situated north of the city just off the Carrer dels Germans Desvalls, one of several streets in the area named for the Desvalls family who owned the property and built the garden. It is the oldest and perhaps loveliest garden in Barcelona. Contrary to popular (i.e. non-Spanish speaking) belief, 'Horta' has nothing to do with horticulture, it's simply part of the name of the district in which the garden is located.

The garden is a mix of 18th century neoclassical and 19th century romantic, begun in 1791 and continued by Desvalls ancestors until the family gave the park to the city of Barcelona in 1969. The Desvalls palace, once the center of social and cultural events as well as open air theatre performances and now home to a school of horticulture, still stands at the entrance to the gardens with its imposing iron studded doors and 16th century watch tower.

Just inside the entrance is this fountain, which we have affectionately dubbed "the poop fountain" owing to an unfortunate meeting between one of my classmates and a bird!

What makes this garden so wonderful is not only the 750 person per day visitor limit but the use of terraces, vistas, and garden rooms that give you the feeling of being in several gardens, not just one. Water is used to effect to draw you from one room to the next, first running along then inviting you to pause and reflect by one of the many still pools. There are ample places for one to sit and enjoy the cool green shade, which I did a lot of since it was hot the day we visited!

The neoclassical elements in the garden made me wish I had paid more attention in my college Greek and Roman mythology class. Statues and busts of Greek mythical figures decorated the garden rooms, giving one who knows how to 'read' the garden a clue to its overarching theme: love and death. I find with many of the classic tragic love stories that one or other of the lovers usually ends up losing thier head over their amour. This guy was obviously no exception.

Unlike me, you, literate garden reader, are no doubt versed in the story of Theseus and Ariadne and their relationship to the labyrinth (their love story ended with a tragic case of amnesia - what's up with that!?). The labyrinth at Parc del Laberint thankfully doesn't house a minotaur ready to devour you, but if you're brave enough to enter it (I wasn't) you will find a statue of the god Eros at the center. Mercifully, you don't need a string to find your way out, either!

On the terrace above the labyrinth is a neoclassic pavilion with a reflecting pool and fountain reached by crossing a bridge over the Romantic Canal, at the end of which is the Island of Love. A sculpture of Egeria, a mythological water nymph, overlooks the pool.

The newer Jardi Romantic lies on the lowest terrace and is shaded by tall pines and Eucalyptus. The beds are divided in to myrtle-lined rectangles covered in Agapanthus (one common name for it is Flower of Love). When in bloom, I imagine the area would look like a gently waving sea of blossom! Oddly enough, this garden terminates in what used to be called the "false cemetery" which was outfitted with ornamental headstones (no longer there - gee, I wonder why?). This part of the garden does have a more tranquil feeling than the rooms of the upper terraces, and I was drawn to it by the sound of rushing water which I found to be a waterfall and channel that ran the length of the garden. In the center was another quiet pool with a long stone bench echoing the arch of the pool on one side.

A recent storm toppled this pine, taking the Agapanthus planted around the base of the tree for a ride.

Leaving the Romantic Garden you come to a quirky little garden with a hermit's hut built into the wall. More seating lines the stone wall and a table and stools cut from tree trunks sits invitingly in the center of the patio. I thought it would have been a very pleasant place to sit and take tea with a faun!

The plantings in the garden are decidedly Mediterranean, with Arbutus unedo, Agapanthus, Eucalyptus, Acanthus, Hedera, and Bougainvillea.

For a place to linger and enjoy a good book, Parc del Laberint offers many secluded nooks where one can sit and revel in the quiet solitude. For the more daring, the labyrinth offers a challenge to the intellect and one's sense of direction. For the garden literate it tells a number of stories, from the many ancient myths depicted in statuary to the repeated theme of love told by the plants and flowers in each of the gardens.

For most of us, this was the favorite garden in Barcelona. When next you're in the area, make a point of visiting. Take along a book of Greek Myths to enjoy while listening to the sound of water playing over the stones, or spend the day with your sweetheart and write a new chapter in your own love story here. Whatever your reason for visiting, Parc del Laberint should be on every garden lover's list when in Barcelona!

Gaudí's Barcelona - La Sagrada Familia

2010-07-05T08:21:00.038-04:00

It's funny, when you're about to go on a trip that everyone knows about, how many people suddenly appear who have traveled to where you're going. Where were these people last fall when I was researching the sites we should visit? Apparently, they only reveal themselves when the itinerary is finalized and come with all sorts of "you MUST see this" recommendations!

Our itinerary was pretty packed, but when three different people in the space of a few days all told us, "You MUST see La Sagrada Familia!", we thought perhaps we should heed their advice. The trip wasn't just all about the gardens, anyway, it was about the gardens in the context of the country's culture. And religion and religious structures are part of a people's culture, right? Right! I'm deviating a bit from the chronological order of our itinerary but thought I'd tell you more about Antonio Gaudi and the amazing work that consumed his later life.

The Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Familia (Expiatory Church of the Holy Family) is a massive Roman Catholic church designed by Gaudi, to which he devoted the last fifteen years of his life. Construction began in 1882 and is still ongoing.

Beg pardon? Still ongoing? It's been 127 years and they haven't finished it yet?

Allow me to quote Sr. Gaudí: "My client (meaning God) is in no hurry". Funding for the construction is entirely by private donations and admission fees. Gaudí himself gave all his money to the effort and went door-to-door begging for more. He lived at the church until the time of his death, at which time only the Nativity Façade had been built. Most of the original plans for the church were destroyed during the Spanish Civil War so much of what's been done since has been the inspiration of the artists and architects working on it.

Photo from Wiki Commons

We lunched at a sidewalk cafe right across the street from the cathedral. Impressive doesn't even begin to describe it. After queueing a short time to buy tickets, we bypassed the longer line for one of the tower elevators and went inside. I've been in several cathedrals in England - some ruins, some still active neighborhood houses of worship - and each one has taken my breath away. Even in its unfinished state this one did, too.

Imagine stained glass in the windows!

Emerging from the exit you find yourself under the Passion Façade. This depicts the passion - the pain, sacrifice, and death - of Christ. The sculptures by Josep Maria Subirachs are very stylistic. The façade faces west and receives the last rays of the setting sun, creating dramatic light and shadow effects.

Directly opposite, on the east side of the church, is the the Nativity Façade which was the only part of the church completed in Gaudí's lifetime. Similar to the Passion Façade it depicts Jesus's birth, childhood, and early manhood. The rising sun which illuminates the façade symbolically represents new life. There are three entrances on this side, one door each for hope, charity, and faith.

We didn't have time on this visit to take the lifts to the towers, which are supposed to be spectacular, or to visit the crypt, or really linger and take in all the astounding details. I read recently that the nave is due to be opened for public worship by October of this year, and the church is to be consecrated by the Pope when he visits Barcelona in November.

I always marveled at the dedication it took to build the medieval cathedrals I've seen - some taking decades, as Sagrada Familia has. It takes a lot of faith to put so much effort into something that you may not live to see completed. I hope to be able to return in ten years or so (with a visit or two in between) and see how much has been done. With the anticipated completion date being somewhere around 2026, I think it would be fascinating to see the progress first hand and to one day be able to enjoy a service there or hear Evensong.

Visiting this time and watching the workmen inside as they carefully smoothed a just-poured concrete floor reminded me that true craftsmanship - no matter what the discipline - requires time and patience.

Good thing God has plenty of both!

Gaudi's Barcelona - Park Güell

2010-06-29T18:46:00.125-04:00

Barcelona. Day 2. The first half. We awoke to perfectly fabulous weather! Clear, blue skies the color of Spanish bluebells and temps in the 80s sans humidity. Our hotel offered an equally fabulous breakfast and after a solid night's sleep we all dug into the buffet con gusto!

Refreshed and fortified, we embarked on our day's first adventure. Park Güell is one of Barcelona's must-see sites, named for Count Eusebi Güell who owned the 50-acre property and commissioned Antonio Gaudí in 1890 to design a garden city there. The Count was an admirer of the English garden cities that were all the rage at the time (sounds like my kind of guy; and a Count! Wonder if he has any eligible bachelor great-great-great grandsons?), which explains the English spelling of 'park'; in the native Catalan it would be spelled 'parc'. He wanted it to be an exclusive gated community for Barcelona's rich and famous but that dream was never realized. The park was completed between 1910 - 1914 without the intended 60 mansions and opened to the public as a municipal park in 1922.

There are many ways of getting to Park Güell; we chose the most aerobic one. The park sits at the top of a long, steep hill a fair hike from the nearest Metro station. By the time we neared the top we were hot, sweaty, and a detour into a small market for a bottle of water was greeted as the best idea of the day! In Europe, when you ask for water at a cafe you can request tap, still, or sparkling. We had a giggle over the label on a bottle of sparkling water.

Gassed up and ready to go, we reached the top and just a few steps ahead was the park.

"Nothing is invented; it's written in nature"

Antonio Gaudí (1852 - 1926) was the leading exponent of Catalan Modernism and his most notable works can all be seen in Barcelona. He was inspired by nature and used natural materials such as local stone in his designs. In his youth he served as a blacksmith's apprentice then studied architecture and engineering. As you explore the park, his natural inspirations reveal themselves in the structures he designed. Fluted columns bloom into a concrete canopy, footpaths in stone arcades arch like a surfer's wave to support vehicular roadways above. Patterns, textures, colors all mimic the natural landscape. The result is one of the most intriguing municpal parks in the world.

This alcove at the main entrance provided a sanctuary from the hot summer sun for the musician playing there.

The wall of the alcove is covered in these intricate and vibrant tile mosaics.

Up the main steps is this tiled drooling dragon (or lizard, if you're not into the medieval legends that Gaudí enjoyed), covered in ceramic and glass mosaic.

At the top of the steps is the Hall of a Hundred Columns which rise like a concrete forest to support the Gran Plaça Circular - the main terrace - above. After the hot climb up that hill, the Hall provided a cool and welcome respite. Musicians played throughout the park, and the acoustics in the Hall were so good that you could hear the guitar player just as well standing behind him as you could standing in front of him. My buddy Nate and I enjoyed the music sitting on the rear stairs, resting in the cool shade, soaking in the sights and sounds.

The ceiling of the Hall reminded me of an inverted egg carton with colorful mosaic medallions. It was an appropriate comparison, as the Hall was originally intended to be the housing community's central market, where the sellers and their wares would be protected from the elements.

Gaudí 's training as a blacksmith translated into intricate designs in metalwork.

A winding stone staircase leads to the main plaza above the Hall. The wall is studded with these yawning lion's heads, part of the ingenious water catchment system that Gaudí designed. Originally, rain that hit the main terrace was directed to and through the stone columns below where it would feed and power the fountains. Given that the average annual rainfall in Barcelona is only about 23 inches, I don't think the fountains would have been terribly lively.

Directly above the Hall is the Gran Plaça Circular. The view of Barcelona from here is stunning (the slight haze of smog along with the Agaves, Bougainvillea, and Cypress trees felt oddly familiar!). Encircling the plaza like a ceramic beaded necklace is a serpentine bench reputed to be the longest bench in the world. The curves in the bench create cozy alcoves. Supposedly when Gaudí was designing the bench seats he created a mold by parking a worker and his naked buttocks on a block of wet clay.

Since the park was intended to be an exclusive community, a model home was built but no buyers presented themselves so the house was put on the market in 1906. At the advice of his patron, Gaudí bought the house and moved his family to the Park where they lived until his father died in 1925. Now the house is a museum.

I don't know if it was intentional, but the the trails and footpaths were designed so that they lure you in and guide you around curves to surprises at the other end. Interrupting your journey down this path to a dead end was a massive and ancient tree trunk, worn smooth and shiny by countless years of caresses by weather and humans.

The plants at Park Güell were wildly reminiscent of those I knew in So Cal. Between the weather, the topography, and the plant material I felt as if I could have been back in LA. As interesting as Griffith Park in LA is, it would be so much better with more spaces like the ones at Park Güell. The view probably wouldn't be as good, though, since you often can't observe downtown LA from Griffith Observatory due to the amount of smog.

For an even better view of Barcelona, trek up the hill to las tres cruces. There is no guard rail on the narrow stair, so hug the center as you ascend, and especially when descending! From the top, you and 30 of your newest friends will have a 360-degree panoramic view of the city.

Park Güell is one place I will definitely return to, hopefully with much more time to wander and even more time to linger. If you're Barcelona bound, this is one place you just have to see for yourself! Go early to beat the crowds, gas up with a bottle of cold, bubbly agua and enjoy a taste of local life. Stay tuned for another post on Gaudí's unfinished master work, La Sagrada Familia.

Barcelona - El Primer Día

2010-06-27T12:14:00.067-04:00

Today is June 27 and I'm typing from the air conditioned comfort of a bookstore (WiFi in our house is down. Again.), which is the perfect place to update a blog about international voyages because I can sneak over to the travel section and consult the many books there for interesting details about the places we went. I have next to me three weighty tomes that all promise to guide me to the best restaurants, museums, fiestas, traditions, etc. that Spain has to offer. The only problem with this is that as I scan through these guides I find myself uttering, "How did we miss that!? Where was this? Why didn't we go there?! Oh. My. Gosh! I want a do-over! When can I go back?!"

Yes, I'm cheating. Our trip is already two weeks old and not only is the memory a jumble, there are so many things about the places we saw that I didn't know when we were actually there. According to St. Augustine, "the world is a book and those who do not travel read only a page". I wish I had read more pages of the travel guides before we went. Better late than never, I always say.

Our journey abroad began with a 3-hour flight delay. I saw this as an auspicious beginning for I was convinced that if the plane couldn't even get out of the gate on time, then the quota for Potential Things To Go Wrong was fulfilled right off the bat and the rest of the trip would be smooth as Persian silk. Right!? Right! Let's not mention the semi-emergency visit that morning to my doctor due to an ear infection ("I'm boarding a long and arduous flight across the ocean this afternoon - give me meds now!").

After one of the most miserable transatlantic flights of my career (what does one have to do to get a cup of water these days?), we arrived in Barcelona at roughly 11am next day. The pass through customs went smoothly and we collected our bags then the rental vans. That process took a fair amount of time, so we made the best of it by sitting on the floor and watching the stylish Spanish people bustling to and fro.

Vehicular transportation secured (a pair of matching mini-vans each named Picasso, which made me wonder why there are no American vehicles named for American artists? Think Ford Pollock or Dodge Wyeth...am I on to something or what?! But I digress...), we were on our way! After a wrong turn out of the airport - a minor thing as all we had to do was find a place to turn around - we were finally aiming toward city center Barcelona. Finding the hotel was a little more of a challenge, even with our GPS navigator and several extraordinarily large fold-out maps (a few words of advice to the self-driving international traveler: Spiral Bound Road Atlas!), but we finally made it. Now, one must keep in mind Europe's long and glorious history - invading Romans, Persians, Turks, Moors, etc. drove horses, not Citroens. When someone wondered out loud why the streets were so narrow my immediate thought was, "Because horses are skinnier than cars".

This also made the lack of on-street parking in front of the hotel rather an interesting challenge. We contemplated whizzing by several times, chucking a bag out the back onto the sidewalk with each pass but decided against this tactic and just stopped in the middle of the road! Hudson and I ran inside and asked the concierge if he spoke English. "A little", he said, indicating with thumb and index finger just how little. Excellent! Though Hudson spoke no Spanish and I recalled only un poquito, we managed to get through our first encounter just fine.

Cars safely parked and everyone checked in, we met back in the lobby and embarked on our first exploration of Barcelona.

Since we really hadn't eaten since the day before, we immediately enquired as to the location of the nearest cafe. Finding one just down the block, we took over the sidewalk tables and proceeded to enjoy our first meal in Spain. I had a chicken enchilada sort of thing that was out of this world! And the coffee...don't get me started on the coffee!!! It was nectar! Ambrosia! Sweet, creamy deliciousness that I quickly became addicted to. Must. Return. For. Cafe con leche!

Our hotel was situated in the wealthy Eixample area of the city, just north of the Old Town. For the next three days we would call this home base and became very familiar with the nearest Metro station, on Avenguda Diagonal (pronounced dee-a-goo-nal).

The Metro system and map in Spain is comfortingly similar to that in London, so it took no time at all for me to figure out where we were, where we wanted to go, and which line we needed to take to get there. I especially liked the little lights that glowed as the trains arrived at each stop, so all you had to do was glance up at the map above the doors and you knew exactly where you'd been.

Waiting for the next train.

Emerging from the Metro, we rambled down Las Ramblas, a bustling pedestrian avenue complete with shops, painted street performers, and purveyors of wild animals.

We kept wondering what one did with one's purchase if one were to continue rambling and had to discourage Nate from the temptation to stow reptiles in his cargo pockets.

Just off the Ramblas is the famed and festive La Bouqueria Market. Looking like a detonated box of confetti, the market was a comestible carnival of candies, nuts, chocolates, meats, and bebidas de frutas.

Even though we were there during siesta, many stalls were open. The arrangements of fresh fruit, meat, coffee, spices, and sweets were dazzling.

After satisfying our sweet tooths, our next stop was Parque de la Ciutadella, so named for the much despised 18th century citadel that was once located here along with its equally despised militia. The citadel was knocked down and the Triumphal Arch built to celebrate it's destruction. It's the largest, greenest park in Barcelona and houses the museum of geology and a zoo. There's a boating lake (we didn't boat) and Antonio Gaudi, then a student, helped design the central fountain and ornate street lamps.

Enjoying Gaudi's designs.

When the citadel was razed, one of the buildings to survive was the Governor's Palace, now a school. The gardens fronting the building were charming but the absence of water in the central fountain was a disappointment.

In front of the gardens there was an allee of pleached (or pollarded?) Platanus. Not the usual plant for pollarding, but the effect was pleasing (say that five times fast).

Anyway, Nate really liked them!

The Shade House was designed by Josep Fontsere and built by Josep Amargos in 1883 when the park was overhauled for a World's Fair exhibition. Constructed of brick, wood and iron, it houses a collection of tropical plants.

While most of the beds were extraordinarily well-tended, my intrepid plant-loving classmates couldn't help but notice the chlorotic nature of this Hydrangea and tried to diagnose the cause of the malady.

After a stroll through the park, we decided to head toward our next destination, Montjuic. Our chaperons point the way...

...while some of us were already suffering from the physical demands of walking.

A short hop on the Metro took us to Monjuic - Jewish Mountain - home of the Plaça de Carlos Buigas - a Catalan art museum - and the Estadi Olimpic - built for the 1992 Olympics - as well as numerous gardens including the Jardi Botanic de Barcelona, which we were scheduled to visit next day. The rising avenue from the Plaça d'Espanya up to the Plaça de Carlos Buigas is lined with fountains and a bazillion stairs.

The fountains offer an elaborate show in the evenings but the water isn't on during the day. Still, the view of Barcelona was impressive and we were absolutely dwarfed by the fountain basins.

It was the end of a very long day(s) and we would return another night to see the fountain show so we decided to return to our home neighborhood and search for sustenance. We dined in style, toasting our safe arrival with Sangria at a restaurant called Miguelitos that I highly recommend (beware the bones in the paella). Sated and sleepy, our first day in Barcelona came to a happy end.

Next day: Park Guell and The Barcelona Botanic Garden

The World is a Garden - Spain and England 2010

2010-06-26T06:30:00.020-04:00

John Steinbeck said, "People don't take trips - trips take people". Bitten by the travel bug seven years ago, I was always content to return to the UK year after year so I admit to a smidgen of disappointment when our class voted to go to Spain for our trip abroad. As I started investigating, planning, and honing the itinerary, the disappointed evaporated and by the time our departure date arrived, I was really excited about going! The fact that two of my classmates and I were extending our travels to England as well just made the sense of excitement even more tangible.

How often have my classmate Emma and I looked at each other and declared ourselves to be the Luckiest People on the Planet (LPOTP for short)? Well, it happened again - and again, and again, and again - while we were traveling through Spain and England this month. Since it was a business trip, not a vacation (but still a welcome and much needed break from the stresses of the program), we kept a travel blog to chronicle our adventures. Since blogging occurred at the end of the day when the bloggers were pretty much exhausted, the posts are short and sweet. Some places we visited have incredible stories behind them and those posts, as well composed as they are, don't begin to scratch the surface and some sites and experiences merit much more in the way of narrative.

I'm also a camera nut so I snapped lots of photos. My classmate and fellow camera nut Hudson and I were in an unspoken competition to see who would shoot the most pictures (2,627 so far, including our week in England. I'm still hunting for the memory card from my pocket camera!). In the coming days (weeks?) I'll try to capture the memories as they flit by and impart them here.

So grab a chair, a cup of cafe con leche (I honestly don't know what they put in the coffee in Spain but it was positively ambrosial!) and enjoy the journey.

We begin in Barcelona...

We Kick Grass!

2010-05-30T05:40:00.042-04:00

Last Wednesday was a red-letter day. It was the day our Student Exhibition Garden was finally complete! Nearly a year in the making, the sense (or should I say 'scents') of excitement, pride, accomplishment, and not a little relief at watering the last plant in was downright euphoric. I swear I could hear a score of garden angels break into the Hallelujah Chorus when we turned the hose off!

I've heard our exhibition gardens compared to the likes of those at Chelsea, Hampton Court, Chaumont, Cornerstone...if you're not into gardening and aren't familiar with these venerable horticultural venues, trust me when I say such a comparison is huge! Flatteringly huge! Dare I say intimidatingly huge? Granted, we don't have the financial backing that those gardens do, but we took what we were given and turned it into something spectacular!

It was an enormous challenge and we not only rose up to meet it, we stared it in the face and declared through gritted teeth, "You've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya punk?!" (apparently channeling Clint Eastwood with a trowel in his holster is what happens when one blogs at 5am).

My design partner Shannon and I, along with our Class of 2011 colleagues Carolyn and David, not to mention my other classmates with their gardens, well, there's just no other way to put it - we rock!

Imagine, then, how utterly deflated I felt when I asked why the photos on two of the signs for the gardens don't feature images of the designers and received the answer, "It's not about you".

And there followed a stunned silence.

Beg pardon? 'Not about us'? What is a program - any program - if not for the people in it? And what is a design - any design - if not a reflection of the designer(s)? The Program (she gestures with both hands to indicate appropriate placement of quotes around the word) didn't conceptualize, design, and build these gardens, we did. The Program (quote-y gesture repeated) didn't slog 14 hours a day - often longer - to satisfy work obligations, deadlines, and balance all the other requirements 'the program' puts on us, we did (hey, it's my blog, and I'll rant if I want to!).

The Student Exhibition Garden at Longwood will be officially launched sometime this summer and it is my sincere hope that our hard work receives the recognition it deserves. These gardens reflect not only our creativity and ingenuity, but countless hours of planning, preparation, and sweat (LOTS of sweat! We worked our asters off!).

Installing the gardens was supposed to offer "real world" experience. I worked in the landscape industry for three years before coming to Longwood and I can tell you that many of the tools essential to landscape installers "in the real world" were sorely lacking yet we made it happen. And while there were things that needed to happen and people involved who laid the groundwork, developed the space, and provided invaluable assistance along the way (I salute Dan Maffei and Harold Taylor - We couldn't have done it without you!), my class is the first to leave our green fingerprints on it. I can't think of anything more personal than that.

Last summer when we were putting our design programs together the three main objectives for our gardens were: "Fragrance", "Safety", and "Wow!". If you ask me, I think we hit the bull's eye with that last one! Who's feeling lucky now?

Nicotiana and Papyrus bloom abundantly in our containers

Rebar arches fabricated for us by Longwood master welder, Dave Beck

Our central focal point, a floriferous 'downtown' skyline surrounded by native sedge Carex pennsylvanica and Calamintha 'White Cloud'

Mina lobata covers the arches with flaming blossom

Gnome Management in the Garden

2010-05-15T14:25:00.001-04:00