Garden Diary: Yellow to Mauve, with Sound

High summer and ample rain have given me a garden almost profligate. The large prairie plants have grown even taller than in past years and spread by self-seeding into new areas. The invertebrates, the insects, appear to be thriving, usually more apparent by the sounds they make than their visibility, with healthy populations in good balance. That I had no problem with Japanese Beetles this year, only a few, I attribute to a diverse invertebrate community in equilibrium.

Angelica gigas, a honeypot for insects from Heronswood

The tall yellows continue and now they've been joined by the mauves--broad masses of Joe Pye Weed (Eupatoriadelphus maculatus), intense and transient deep violet of Iron Weed (Vernonia), somewhere in between a few Prairie Blazing Star (Liatris pycnostachya), which survive only in propitious locations, not being as successfully competitive as some of their neighbors; even my only Angelica gigas, a dark, burnished, purple-almost-brown. As these colors fade through August, the grasses have just begun to put on their late summer fireworks.

I've linked a short video of the garden to this photo. Take a look (click on the photo above), and you'll see a panning shot across the garden from the raised position of the house. This gives a good overview, but it really misrepresents the garden, which looks entirely different when you walk down into it. Looking at the video, you'd have no idea a network of rather wide gravel paths, and other smaller paths, run through the plantings. You see much more of the intricate detail only by walking through, and the rest of this post will take you on that walk.

Here are several views of the main path across the garden showing the plantings beginning to overflow the edges, a desirable state of affairs to my thinking.

Vernonia, Eryngium yuccafolium, Aster tartaricus 'Jin Dai', Silphium terebinthinaceum, Rudbeckia maxima, Physostegia virginica, Panicum, Hemerocallis crowd the path edges.

This isn't planned color, and I make no excuses for it. My interest is line, mass, form, movement, visual tone in the sense of emotion more than color. Above, the tall Rudbeckia maxima on the left, fluffy aging flower heads of Queen of the Prairie (Filipendula rubra) below it contrasting with the sword-like leaves of the early spring Iris pseudocorus, then a bunch of Joe Pye Weed, which really is much more colorful than this photo shows, and Cup plant (Silphium perfoliatum) on the right, all softened by the gauzy screen of flowering Switch grass (Panicum virgatum 'Shenandoah').

Further down, form, texture, and the enormous variations of green make an entirely different effect, less impressionistic, more literal in a comic sort of way. Paddle-shaped leaves of Prairie Dock (Silphium terebinthinaceum) and giant coneflower (Rudbeckia maxima) make a busy show of themselves against a background of now silver Mountain Mint (Pycnantheum muticum) and Panicum 'Dallas Blues'.

I want masses of white Obedient Plant (Physostegia virginica 'Miss Manners', above) and have more growing on for planting after the weather cools. My goal is to treat the Pycnantheum and Physostegia as a groundcover, and spike it here and there with red to orange Daylilies (Hemerocallis). I suppose I'm more a creature of fashion than I'd like to think, and have unconsciously absorbed a liking for hot colors--though it's not just a matter of fashion; in my intensely green garden, the spots of brilliant color add a pleasing depth and complexity, passion smoldering in dark recesses.

You might think they would clash with the very different color scheme of the garden as a whole but, because their blossoms tend to occur in isolated spots, and are highly transient, they don't. Hemerocallis also seem to do well in a highly competitive garden environment, and the other plants hide their tattered, unattractive foliage after the blossoms pass.

On to the sound part of this post's title ...  All these plants attract hordes of insects, and their movements and sounds are entertaining and stimulating, sensuously and intellectually. At this time of year, these "incidental" insect performances happen against the constant roar of cicadas emanating from the wall of woods surrounding the garden. The sounds come in rhythmic waves, as the insects answer one another. And the night sounds, of course, choruses of frogs serenading. 

The audible landscape is like a separate world ... one I can't understand at all but perhaps understanding isn't necessary. You can just give yourself over to the sound, "rest" in it like a giant sonic cushion of vibrant air.

About eight feet off the main path Marc Rosenquist's sculpture, though not mauve or purple, certainly associates easily with those colors. These daylilies are the last to bloom of about fifteen planted throughout the middle of the garden. You see them from one angle and ...

... from another you don't. Again, a demonstration of the need to walk around to see the plants from various points of view.

The pathway across the middle of the garden. Another way to get up close to the plants. I'm adding yet another, less obvious path branching off from the left of this area to make it possible to get deep within the plantings.

 
A European grass, Molinia caerulea 'Skyracer', with tall, delicate flower stalks, crowds the entrance path, so close it touches you, but so light and airy you don't mind a little crowding (well, some do).

Last weekend we added this small new entry path on the opposite side near the house. We put it in by violent means, just digging across trying avoid established plants. I don't really like it; it's too neat and tidy. The edges need to be muddied and planted, and some larger plants will have to be moved next spring. Then, perhaps it will look a part of the garden.

This is the view up toward the house from the new small path ...

... and here a glance off to the side.

Connections: Trinity Root and a Visit to Fordhook Farm

Trinity Root 

by Steve Tobin

When I first discovered Steve Tobin's magnificent sculpture, Trinity Root, in front of Trinity Church on lower Broadway a few weeks back, I posted a photo and brief description. I wasn't aware of the happy confluence of events that would come to pass, resulting in an unexpected email, and a Sunday visit to Fordhook Farm, home of the Burpee Seed Company and the east coast display and test gardens for Heronswood Nursery, all only a short, 30 minute drive from our house and garden on Federal Twist Road.

George Ball, his face shining with his typical enthusiasm, making sure

Phil and I noticed the minute detail in one of his favorite 

Steve Tobin sculptures.

The email came out of the blue, from George Ball, president and owner of Burpee and Heronswood. He'd noticed the Trinity Root posting on my blog. George wrote me that few are aware Fordhook Farm, his home and headquarters of the Burpee Company, has one of the largest Tobin collections anywhere. He offered an invitation to come by anytime to take a look. So on one recent sunny Sunday, Phil and I drove over to see.

On entering the farm grounds we found gigantic metal sculptures at the entrance, part of a series named New Nature, which, to me, resembled Brobdingnagian seed pods, or perhaps giant pollen grains.

I'm also reminded of the serried ranks of pipe in a pipe organ, as well as--at the opposite end of the metaphorical spectrum--cannons, guns. One thing's for sure, these are energetic works and, like a conversation with George Ball, they can literally make your mind pop with ideas and new associations.

Further in we found a large field, a many acre expanse holding several large Tobin sculptures, some like quirky, playful, giant tools or machines for some as yet unknown purpose ...

... others, massive stylized tree roots, some with the grace of dancers, swirling with motion ...

... lounging metal lozenges, like a group of seals lolling on their wet rocky perches, or perhaps suggesting an abstract version of Rodin's The Burghers of Calais ...

... and a highly abstracted tree root, its shining black catching the blue of the sky ...

Phallic, no doubt, and in conversation with one another ...

There is also a collection of more realistic portrayals of  tree root systems in bronze, this one reminiscent of Trinity Root ...

Partway through our visit, this big guy--George, but we didn't know who he was at the time--came out of the house with his dogs, gesticulating to us across the field and calling out to tell us to stop by when we finished -- all this from several hundred feet away. (As I said, it was a very large field.) When we got to the house, George introduced himself, invited us inside and gave us drinks. We joined him in his study for about an hour.

George is a large man, easily exceeding six feet by several inches, with a welcoming, quick, earnest manner, an almost unbounded enthusiasm, wide ranging interests, and a generosity of spirit that was quite unexpected (we were, after all, strangers, though his knowledge of my blog had been some kind of introduction). I, normally reticent and quiet around people I don't know well, found conversation easy, fascinating, actually. We talked about many things ... the book both of us were reading (Hybrid by Noel Kingsbury), the amazing basketball  talent of Native Americans, who George thinks are the best players in the world, Heronswood, and what is and isn't happening with that business since Burpee purchased it in 2000.

His take on Heronswood was an interesting one. As many in the gardening world know, George has been targeted as "the man who destroyed Heronswood" since his company purchased it. I suppose this is a risk inherent in taking over a business with such a loyal, almost fanatical, following. I felt much the same when I read of the purchase years back. My own fantasy was this:  big American corporation absorbs small, famous, world renowned nursery, yet another example of capitalism turning all things of value into commodities. I've since retreated from that attitude. As George pointed out, the owners of Heronswood were ready to move on to other things, and they made the decision to sell. In fact, George and company found that many of the plants that grew so successfully in the rain forest environment of the Pacific Northwest had to be painstakingly tested for their adaptability to climatic conditions in the rest of the U.S. So Fordhook Farm in Doylestown, has become one of the trialing grounds, where the plants are grown to determine how well they fare outside the native Heronswood domain on the Kitsap peninsula.

Unfortunately, we had to leave to return to a house guest we'd left at home. George insisted, however, that he give us a quick tour of a few areas around the house before we left, and we were happy to accept. One of the highlights was a prototype for Trinity Root.  Here George is explaining.

Notice his hands. He's rather the showman. He loves to talk, to teach, to show.

Nuff said?

Next we went up to the house to see his favorite work by Tobin, one of a group called Earth Bronzes on Tobin's web site.

These are rather atavistic-looking, sometimes disturbing, collections of animals and natural objects cast in bronze, roughly in the shape of grave stones (my image), and suggestive of some ancient religious purpose. Here, a detail shows Tobin's virtuoso technique:

Near the end of our tour was this piece, which was on loan and about to be moved, a 'Bamboo', certainly one of my favorites ...

Last was a new work called 'Syntax'. George explained that Steve Tobin in some way acquired a collection of metal letters, which he painstakingly fabricated into this patinated globe.

George Ball, in a rare quiet moment.

My one regret is that we timed our visit for mid-day, in glaringly bright sunlight, making good photographs impossible. To see beautiful, professional photographs of Steve Tobin's work, and learn more about him, click here.

It is possible to see the Burpee gardens and Tobin collection, though an appointment is necessary since Fordhook Farm is a corporate headquarters and private home. Call Linda, or leave a message, at 215 345 1766, fax 215 345 1791, if you want to visit.

Heronswood Nursery's New Catalogue

The new Heronswood catalogue came in today's mail. Glossy paper. Lots of color photos. Accurate, informative, descriptive text. All good in the usual nursery catalogue. But the sense of relationship with a unique person is gone, replaced by the anonymous voice of commerce. I'll miss Dan Hinkley's (or his helpers') wry, humorous stories of plant exploration in far-off parts of the world. The old catalogue left a lot to the reader's imagination. Browsing through it was a joy and a mystery. I'll miss that experience. It was a part of gardening for me.