RENWALD: A FALL WAKE-UP CALL
Gardens reveal themselves in the so-called shoulder seasons
We can be sad now, it’s getting cold.
Gardeners living in denial will regret horticultural follies. Take a walk and rack up the infractions. The oleander hiding from the wind, the bougainvillea blooming on an east facing porch, the hibiscus toppled over after the frigid rain — they point to gardeners living in an altered state. A state where winter never comes.
On Instagram people are posting #lastbouquets #lastrose #lasttomato. We’re heading into bleak season on the horticultural calendar.
However, dear readers, I am still looking for gardens to embrace, to write about, to dream of over the winter. It is not unlike my mission years ago of finding gardens to shoot for my TV show. We shot a now unheard of 26 episodes per season. We shot in the spring during snowstorms, and in late November when the airtime was filled with long discussions of leaves, bark and compost.
Gardens really do reveal themselves in the so-called shoulder seasons. If there is no structure holding them together, they fade into mush. The flowers are gone, the lawn furniture is packed up; the barbecue, caked in duck fat and barbecue sauce, is a blight.
Fall is a wake-up call for gardeners who care about form and function as well as flowers. It is a time to contemplate design. Some of us head to the bookstore for help.
I was loitering in the evershrinking garden section of a bookstore recently, spying on a customer. A man who looked like he knew about “planting in drifts” and “the borrowed view” picked books off the shelves, thumbed through them in mere seconds, and put them back. Were the books full of hackneyed advice? Maybe they presented preposterous ideas like mulching the garden with oyster shells and slate roof tiles. I think he was suffering from image overload. Scrolling through Instagram, Pinterest and Houzz can do that, nudging us into a crippling state of indecision.
It’s better, I think, to visit a garden in person. Do a walking meditation on why it’s pleasing and why it works.
I looked at two gardens recently that I will write about next year.
They were in that state when things were just being packed away and some beds and pots were empty, but they still were charming and inviting.
One garden had just been finished. The plants, paths and fences were brand new. There were elevation changes to manage, and views to either enhance or obscure, and it looked like a success. Though the garden was long and narrow, a wide pea gravel path had just enough curves to disrupt the bowling alley dimensions. Shrubs, perennials and small trees were getting established and promised to deliver a layered texture for allseason interest. It will be wonderful to see in the spring, when the tulips and daffodils emerge.
The other garden captured the spirit of outdoor living while still being a celebration of plants. Sometimes the creation of outdoor rooms becomes all about the “stuff ” and not so much about the gorgeous shapes, smells and surprise that plants deliver.
The garden had everything I would want. What was originally intended as a big arbour got a roof put on it and became a multi-use space. Comfy furniture was there for lounging, a handsome table and benches waited for dining, and at the back of the garden a beleaguered tool shed transitioned to artist studio. Vegetables had their own handsome bed; sedum, lavender, and hydrangeas were still growing strong in late fall. New fences, paving and night lighting made the makeover complete.
This is another garden I can’t wait to see next summer when everything is at its peak of charm. But like the first garden, it has the right bones to move through all the seasons with its beauty intact.
So frosty weather is here, but garden inspiration never hibernates.
Fall is a wake-up call for gardeners who care about form and function as well as flowers. It is a time to contemplate design.