Circle of life

As the summer officially gives way to fall, I feel let down.  My glorious garden blooms are fading, and it will be many months before my flower beds are once again lush with spring and summer blossoms. 

Preoccupied as I get with my "autumnal blues" during this time of year, it was with a heavy heart that I ventured across the Hudson River to Cold Spring, New York, to view the horticultural displays at a lovely little spot that my friends had raved about called Stonecrop Gardens.  To my surprise and delight, their praise hadn't done it justice.

Wandering the myriad nooks and crannies, the formal displays, informal woodland sections, ponds, glass conservatory and rolling sun-drenched hills--all blooming with artfully arranged annuals and a plethora of fall bloomers--was like happening upon a secret garden.  Mere words can't do it justice, so I've included photos, starting with the one above:

One of the most intriguing elements in a well-designed landscape is the use of space.   The picture on top is a prime example of artful design.  The arbor with oversized round window zeros in on the delightful interplay of nature reflecting off the pond, for an effect reminiscent of a masterful painting.  Indeed, I felt like I was standing in a museum witnessing a work of art...until I realized that's exactly what I was doing!  The intrusion of man is subtle, created only to enhance the grandeur of nature.  This is also evident in the photo directly below, where a giant stone slab has been placed in a way to create a bridge across the water...or was that placed by Mother Nature herself?

Annuals add star power to a declining garden, making it appear more robust.  In the shot below, Dahlias in tender pink, appearing as delicate as newborn skin, disguise the browning buds behind it.

Another successful strategy for year-round beauty is to plant evergreens.  The photo below reveals a grouping of plants that keep their greenery throughout the seasons:

Gardening is an exploration of the wildest of wonders in the physical world, and within ourselves.  It provides a chance to learn a little more about the natural world around us each and every day.  It's also a wonderful opportunity for us to interact, and become inspired.  Wandering the meandering paths of Stonecrop on the first day of fall made me realize that in many ways the growing season has just begun.

Walls that unite

Robert Frost said it best: "Something there is that doesn't love a wall."  Eight simple words strung together to sum up a feeling so many of us have when we encounter one.

Of course walls have a patchy history, symbolizing division and loss of freedom, as in the erection of the Berlin Wall.  Yet how joyous was the day it was torn down!  Walls can be marvels of man's innovation (the Great Wall of China), garish and grandiose, with gates of filigreed wrought iron, or simple stone pilings, produced to pen in livestock or mark borders.  The thing they all have in common is that their very existence is the manifestation of human need.

So why do we feel the need to create walls?  High, reinforced walls keep us safe.  They tell everyone that this particular piece of the world is ours.  Stay away.

I'm more interested in low walls, designed to do the exact opposite.  Low walls highlight an area, define a space, and keep tender plantings protected while allowing visitors access to our personal spaces.  If they're done right, walls can actually beckon others, drawing them into our lives.

Since I have an obsession with ALL THINGS garden related that borders on dysfunction (yes, I actually moved my daughter into her new apartment and planted her backyard garden the same day.  She still has no furniture in her living room), I make a habit of trolling the net for outdoor paraphernalia.  Imagine my delight when a posting on Craigslist revealed a man from my own town with a dump truck full of rocks that he was looking to unload.  With fingers shaking, I texted him instantly, and by the next morning he deposited a pile of fieldstones in my front yard (pictured above).

Feeling like a kid with a new toy, I grabbed a pair of gloves, and set about the task of building my wall. It took the entire afternoon, and my fingertips were red and raw by day's end, but I'm pleased with the results (pictured below).  Now my tender perennials along the driveway are safeguarded from everything but admiring glances.

The autumn garden

Once September hits, our minds tend to turn to all things autumnal.  I gear up the leaf blower because my neighbor's maple starts dropping leaves before Labor Day; my husband rallies friends and family members for the annual football pool (so we, in turn, are very careful about what we say to him lest our comments be the humorous but humiliating topic of his weekly email wrap up); I even had a dog who would begin sitting by the front door each afternoon when she heard the school bus coming down the street.  Years after my kids graduated, she'd still wait by the door each day in the hope that one of them would show up with a friendly greeting.  This is my first autumn without that faithful friend. Sigh.

In fact, we New Yorkers all breathe a collective sigh at this time of year, don't we?  A bittersweet sound that's one part relief as we happily bid farewell to steamy temperatures, and two parts regret, since the summer went so fast...how could it be fall already?

One thing I've done to try to hang on to the color and foliage of my garden through the autumn months is to fill the garden with plants that not only survive while the others are wilting, but actually thrive during this time of year.

One such plant is the Physalis alkekengi, pictured above.  Commonly known as Chinese Lantern for it's bulging, papery seed pods, this plant ushers in the fall with a festive orange hue.  I love to see bright shots of color in the fall garden that complement the turning leaves.  As shown above (lower right side of photo), it transitions flowerbeds from the last of the Rudbeckia and Echinacea, giving garden visitors something pleasing to focus on.

This interesting plant from the nightshade family looks a lot like a tomatillo, or husk tomato, from the same family, so the resemblance is understandable.  Tomatoes, peppers and eggplants are other family members, and are just as easy to grow--though not as showy as the Chinese Lantern, which boasts lovely white flowers in the spring.  And like its cousins, the fruit of this plant can be eaten, though it's not very tasty.  A word of warning:  the leaves and unripe fruit are poisonous, so patience pays off big time when attempting to taste the seeds from the papery pod.

Perhaps the biggest attraction of this unique plant is the fact that the bright pods can be used in floral arrangements.  Simply cut off the leaves and leave the pods dangling--they'll last for years!

The real value of gardening

It takes a lot to get me to leave my beloved upstate New York gardens in August because every day some new wonder pops from the soil and delights me.  I'll take a trip far from home in the fall, the winter--even early spring, but once those first crocus bulbs bloom, for me, there's no place like home.

As much as I love my gardens, I love my kids more.  And when my daughter told me she was moving to Austin, Texas, I thought only one thing: sign me up for that road trip!  So, we piled every conceivable item we could into her little Mazda, saving just enough room for her two pups, and we steered the car south...for 27 hours, and nearly 2,000 miles!

I saw a lot of vegetation along the way, through Pennsylvania, Delaware, West Virginia, Virginia, Tennessee, Mississippi and Arkansas--and got a good feel for the Texas landscape as well.  We had a lot of laughs, sang songs on the radio, listened to an entire book on CD, and stopped at landmarks, hotels and eateries along the route.

We got to her new apartment, just refurbished, and it was a lovely little place--with one exception: the back yard.  When we glanced out the back sliders we were greeted with a cement patio, a moat of scraggly dirt around it, and a six-foot-high fence.  The only plants in sight were the sparse weeds trying valiantly to make a go of it under the brutal Texas sun (above).

I shook my head.  "This will never do."

My girl nodded.  "You're right about that."

We headed straight to her car.  But where to go?  We had no idea where the closest nursery was, so we stopped by that old standby: Walmart.  Turned out, it was the perfect place to begin.  Not only did I get a faux wood table (made of hearty cement), I got it for 15 bucks!  Since it was originally $70, I felt pretty good about that purchase.  The department manager told us the item had been around a good while, and he needed to make room for new merchandise.  Now, I don't know about you, but I've never tried to barter at Walmart before.  Who knew?

Next, my daughter rounded the aisle hugging a bush of pendulous pink petals, and my heart melted: bougainvillea.  The ornamental, vine-like bush with its mass of delicate flowers (bracts actually) boasts heart-stopping beauty.  How I've longed to plant it in my own gardens, but it isn't hearty in my area.  We couldn't resist it.  We bought two, and they were also on sale, it being the end of the season.

Before we knew it, we were back in her yard, digging holes in the 103-degree afternoon.  I'm not used to this kind of heat, so I had to take frequent breaks in her AC.  But soon we were finished, and spreading mulch around the area.

"That was a lot of fun," said my daughter, sweat beading on her forehead.

"It sure was," I agreed, looking around the finished area (below).  We'd transformed the stark fence with the lovely vines.  Plenty of water and they'd scramble across the wood and offer her a lovely sight as she sat out back with her pups and morning coffee.  Even better, we planted a memory of gardening together, sharing time and a time-honored tradition.  And that is more beautiful than any garden I know of.