Creating a monochromatic garden

When first learning how to plan a flowerbed, I think the desire is often to wow the senses with color. People want a plethora of rich hues all around the yard, forgetting other factors that make for really interesting plant compositions: texture, foliage, height and growth habit.

We've all seen magnificent landscapes with multiple colors, which makes us long for similar plantings in our own outdoor spaces. What most of us don't initially pick up on is the fact that in order for color to be perceived properly, all those other factors have to be in place.

Back in school, a professor once made each student plan an entire garden space using only two colors--and they had to be hues that we thought would work poorly together.  I went with pink and orange, which, surprisingly, looked fabulous. One woman chose yellow and black, and, I gotta tell you, they paired brilliantly. My orange tiger lilies and pink stargazer lilies gave way to orange butterfly weed and soft pink roses in the front yard. This has become one of my favorite color combinations. The student who opted for the yellow/black combo edged her property with black mondo grass and filled in flower beds with yellow daisies, lilies, leopard's bane, coreopsis (tickseed) and buttercups. Week after week, her landscape was a study in successful color coordination.

As the years go by, I find myself preferring monochromatic flowerbeds. Take the one pictured above: Blossoms are all, basically, one color--with a range in tone: from soft-as-a-blush pink tulips and dogwood buds to magenta and deep crimson (in background) azalea. What keeps the composition from being boring are the other elements. Varying tones of green in foliage plants (from light green pachysandra and lysimachia to mid-range hosta, gray-green artemisia, to left, and the deep green of boxwood and privet hedge in far background). The variety in texture and growth habit also adds interest. The mounding habit of the hosta echoes the same bouquet shape of the dogwood, providing a unity of form. When shot through with little surprise, like the bright pachysandra, rounded boxwood and azalea forms, and spiky artemisia, the effect is natural and unstudied.

Height plays a role in the presentation as well. Groundcovers and smaller plants line the perimeter of the area, while medium-sized bushes fill in the middle of the flowerbed, and the dogwood tree in the center provides the vertical space needed to assume a basic pyramid shape. Two planters (with mini cypress) beyond the bed--although purposely not matching--offer balance, and the privet hedge running along the entire length of the area in back defines the space.

The elements in this landscape complement each other rather than competing for attention. The idea is to make the eye move easily from one component to the next, enjoying the end result without even realizing what it is, exactly, that makes you feel good in the space.