Sunday, November 29, 2009

Room with a view

Moonnrise above The Palisades, 30 Nov 09.
I've been very fortunate in my life to have lived in a number of exceptionally scenic spots. During college in Ithaca NY I shared an apartment in a rather funky building perched above Ithaca Falls with views out over the valley - though not of the lake. Ithaca Falls is one of the Finger Lakes regions' many scenic waterfalls but is within the city limits and was exceptionally lovely when frozen in winter, or swollen with spring rains.
View across the San Francisco Bay from the Maybeck Cottage garden, 11 Jan 2000.
While in Berkeley CA, during part of my career at the UC Botanical Garden, I lived for 14 years in the Maybeck Cottage in North Berkeley. This was another rather funky structure - though with great charm and the historical association with architect Bernard Maybeck and his family - but it also was sited directly across the bay, with an unobstructed view of the Golden Gate Bridge connecting San Francisco with the Marin headlands. I could watch the sunset move N to S (and vice-versa) as the seasons changed, and I believe it was around Nov 5th when it set in the middle of the bridge from my perspective (the spring counterpart was in early Feb.) First as a renter and later as an owner with David McCrory, the Maybeck Cottage was the place I was able to really explore the horticultural possibilities of living in the Bay Area of California, as well as explore my concept of gardening itself. (check out our website for more pictures of the Maybeck Cottage garden, www.planethorticulture.com.) While at the UC Bot Garden, another great viewspot, I was able to explore the full spectrum of California native plants - or at least those I could successfully grow. Though of "lesser" importance, I also took care of the Bot Garden's Eastern North American collection of plants. In Berkeley my "horticultural plate" always looked like Thanksgiving Dinner, seemingly way too much, but all delicious stuff.
Daytime view of The Palisades above Calistoga, from our deck, 3 Dec 09.
Now we live in Calistoga CA at the N end of the famous Napa Valley. Our house looks directly E and NE toward The Palisades, a long escarpment of volcanic rock S of Mt. St. Helena (the highest point in the county at 4300'). Although the term, The Palisades, specifically applies to the stretch of cliffs, most folks, myself included, use the name to refer to the entire plateau stretching S of Mt. St. Helena to just S of the gap where the old Oat Hill Mine Rd. (now a trail) passes E through the cliffs toward Aetna Springs. Most of this plateau is in the 2400' - 3,000' range. Palisade is a term originally applied to fences, barriers or fortifications made out of pales or stakes, usually sharpened at the top and set into the ground. We have all seen movies with re-created forts employing this technique. Later the term was put on long stretches of cliffs, often along riverbanks, that resembled this type of fortification. I am not sure when the name was applied to the cliffs above Calistoga, but it was probably early on in European settlement of the valley. Every sunny day, from our house, we can watch the last sunlight move up the cliff-face, usually accompanied by a color change as it approaches true sunset; first golden, then orange, then reddish. Once the sun has set in the W, the rock turns back to a cold gray color with amethyst tints. Thus, although we can't watch the true sunset, we get a reflected sunset on the cliffs.
The Palisades in the orange phase with rising moon above, 29 Nov 09.
Because I look out at The Palisades every day, I tend to take a lot of pictures of it. Rather than bore you with endless sets of similar pictures, I chose some of my favorites from the last 4 months. This is my favorite time of year as the latest sun hits the cliffs directly and the moon moves to the N to rise above the cliffs (whereas in the peak of summer the cliffs are in shadow from Mt. St. Helena at sunset and the moon rises over the ridge to the S).
Late light on storm clouds, 22 Nov 09, just before sunset.
(same as above)
Same date as above but more to the S where the Oat Hill Mine Rd. pierces the facade of The Palisades to continue eastward (now a popular hiking/biking trail).
Moon above at very last light, 31 Oct 09.
Date as in previous, but moon appearing to be ready to roll off cliffs.
A slice of late light as sun gets below ceiling of clouds, illuminating the central cliff portion, 18 Oct 09.
As above but near the N end of cliffs.
Last light and rising moon, 2 Sept 09. Here the moon is still S of the main cliff section.
Nearly the full escarpment, 26 Aug 09.
Post sunset cloud glow, 31 Aug 09.
Slipping into darkness, post sunset glow and moon over Oat Hill Mine Rd. ridge.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Blue and Weeping

It was love at first sight; the Atlas cedar (Cedrus atlantica) and I go way back. I vividly remember when I first saw this tree as a child, probably about 1962, because three had just been planted on a lovely estate, Elmcourt, on Belleview Avenue. in Newport, RI (I grew up in Newport). Although many of the grand old estates in Newport had magnificent trees, I had never seen this icy blue conifer before, and there were no old ones that I knew about. I was so taken by its distinctive color and look, I eventually convinced my dad, Raymond, to plant one on our humble - though lovely- suburban yard. The last I saw, that one had become a magnificent tree. I was always proud of that tree since I had learned my love and enthusiasm for plants and the techniques of gardening from my late dad, yet he had listened to my advice. I don't recall when I first saw the weeping or pendulous variety, 'Glauca Pendulum', but I'm sure it only increased my appreciation of this magnificent conifer. And although it was rare when I was a child, it has become quite widespread in temperate climate horticulture since then. I have always had a weakness for pendulous or "weeping" plants, coniferous or otherwise. Again, as a child, my favorite plant in Newport was the magnificent weeping European beech (Fagus sylvatica 'Pendula') so common on the large estates. But it could be a hemlock (Tsuga), mulberry (Morus) or elm (Ulmus); if it weeped, I loved it. I think, as a child, the space created underneath these pendulous plants was special - as adults seldom thought it worth going there, yet it was like a secret space that I could enjoy. I've tried since, to mimic this "space within a space" concept in many landscapes Planet Horticulture (www.planethorticulture.com) has created.
A lovely old farmhouse in Western Sonoma County, CA. In front of the house is a raised terrace, separating the house from the driveway, but the terrace and house were largely exposed to the frequent "traffic" on the driveway. We had the fortune of working for a wonderful couple who own a 6 acre parcel in Graton Valley, part of the greater Russian River drainage, located in a very scenic part of Sonoma County between the small towns of Graton and Occidental. (Some of you may be familiar with Occidental as it was closest town to the famous Western Hills Nursery (www.westernhillsnursery.com), founded by the late Lester Hawkins and Marshall Olbrich. The garden serves as an inspiration for generations of horticultural enthusiasts).
The yard presented many interesting design challenges, many which I'll discuss in future blogs, but linking disparate spaces and structures, and providing more privacy were two crucial issues with the clients. The elevated terrace on the S side of the house was previously planted with blocks of lavender (Lavandula) and the so-called lavender cotton, (Santolina) (see first photo.) Using lavender in big planting blocks became popular in California about 2 decades ago, and seems to have become de rigeur in estate-type plantings. Our clients gave the nod to our suggestions to move on to a new layout and plant palette. The clients wanted to spend more time on this sunny front yard terrace, especially in the winter months, but there was no privacy from the driveway. It was frustrating for them to be in such a remote location, yet feel like they were visible to anyone driving in. Even with rural properties, screening and privacy are a primary concern.
The solution came while I was visiting Sweet Lane Nursery (www.sweetlanenursery.com) E of Petaluma. This nursery specializes in specimen plants. Generally in Planet Horticulture designs, we prefer to use 30 or 40 moderately sized plants, to one large specimen. This permits the clients to have greater diversity with a moderate budget, as specimen sized plants, while more immediate in effect, are typically high priced. Because of my love of the Atlas cedar, particularly the weeping variety, when I saw the above specimen I took some pictures, as I wanted to show Dave this gorgeous specimen. I remember thinking, "It would be so wonderful to use a plant like this in one of our gardens" as the "value" of specimen plants is that you can get age without waiting; this plant is estimated to be 70 years old. Whoever started this, obviously never lived to enjoy its current beauty.
What I also like about this is that it hadn't been trained into the "S" curve trunk that seems to be standard in the nursery trade today - why I've never been sure as it gets tiresome to see such a plastic and variable shaped plant trained into some boring cliche. This specimen had been grafted onto a vertical trunk at about 5' tall, thus formed a lovely, irregular umbrella effect, longer than wide, thus also had potential as a living curtain.
As you probably guessed, Dave sent some pictures of the plant in the nursery to our client, and they loved it and decided to "splurge", since it seemed to fit the aesthetic of their 19th century farmhouse look, and would screen off a large stretch of the terrace from the driveway immediately. In the above picture the previously boxed specimen had been placed at the top of the terrace wall. Instead of planting it in a hole in the ground, we decide to add greater height to the screening effect by building a mound around the root mass, thus gaining another 3' or more. It also meant that the trailing branches could be left on the plant rather than trimmed up which would have been necessary if planted at ground level.
Another picture from within the terrace showing the root mass set at soil level before the mound was created. You will also note from the picture that we had replaced the block of lavenders with a naturalistic planting. With paths and seating areas carved out, the area became a stroll garden with hang-out spaces rather than some simple pattern to be looked at from a distance.
Looking N toward the house from a meadow on the other side of the drive. Note how perfectly this weeping blue Atlas cedar fits the scale of the house, as if some foresightful early resident had planted it decades ago. Although there are still some evident gaps in the screening, these have been planted with a variety of screening shrubs of smaller size, chosen mostly to play off of the sculptural and colorful cedar.
Looking toward the weeping Atlas cedar from the sitting area nearby. Here you can see the mound planted with a mosaic of low herbaceous plants that can tolerate the shadowy understory. The elevation of the mound also reinforces the enclosing aspect of the tree. The beautiful foliage of the lotus banana (Musella lasiocarpa) is on the left. (More on that remarkable hardy plant in a future blog.) The front yard terrace is now a pleasantly private space, part garden, part living area. Making spaces of any size more usable by the folks who own them is one of Planet Horticulture's favorite achievements.
This garden has been an exciting and fun project to work on and this landscape will become one of the great gardens of Sonoma County as it matures.

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