Revamping the circle garden
GARDENING
It’s early Sunday morning, there’s fresh coffee, waffles and local peaches on the breakfast table, but my eye is drawn to the gently lit garden beyond the window.
Breakfast will have to wait. I grab my camera and head out to capture a little magic.
The garden is deliciously still, thanks to this morning’s storm. I can almost hear the garden breathing a collective sigh — glorious rain. With a kiss of gentle sunshine, the plants are aglow in shades golden green and gentle violet. This kind of magic is fleeting, better to enjoy the moment, and then head back for breakfast.
The revamped circle garden is settling in nicely, it’s hard to believe that in late May the old garden was levelled. The bricks were painstakingly lifted and stacked, choice clumps of maiden grass (Miscanthus sinensis ‘Morning Light,’ sedum ‘Autumn Fire’ and echinacea were potted up and tucked in the greenhouse for safekeeping. Everything else was hauledaway:overgrowngrasses,rampant artemisia, vicious climbing rose, ant-infested oregano — all gone.
Just imagine an 8.4-metre-wide circle of bare soil, as flat as a pancake. My BC crew dubbed it the UFO landing pad, after seeing a picture online. There were suggestions of a pool or maybe a pond, a gazebo or just extra lawn to kick around a soccer ball. I liked the original design, and I considered the grasses one of the highlights of our garden. I mulled over the options.
Keeping the same footprint as the original garden, we doubled the width of the brick paths and extended them into the lawn at 12, 3, 6 and 9 o’clock. A retaining wall secures a svelte raised bed. The four outer beds also gave up space for the paths, but there’s still plenty of planting room. The original path was swallowed up by the arching grasses by early summer. Wider paths would give the garden more breathing room, garden access would be a breeze.
I lived with the open space for a few weeks as the stonework was installed and dreamed of the planting possibilities. Perhaps a big fountain in the middle? No, too presumptuous. Simplicity seemed to be the key.
By mid-June, deliciously rich triple mix (more compost than soil) was heaped on the beds. Over the years, this garden has had more than its fair share of compost, but with a heavy clay base, the garden seemed to swallow up the soil. The new beds sit nice and high, so drainage should never be a problem.
Each of the outer beds was anchored with three clumps of miscanthus, placed equidistantly, with two pots each of sedum and echinacea between the grasses. I was able to save a good deal of money by recycling some of the choice perennials and grasses.
My son Mark, took charge of the project from demolition to hardscaping and soil preparation, thoroughly groomed the plants, making sure we were not introducing any weeds into the new beds. I pruned back the sedums by about a third at planting time. This would encourage them to branch out and give them a chance to develop strong roots before flowering.
The new garden still felt bare. I headed out to Mullen Garden Market to see what caught my eye. Perennial Japanese asters, with cheerful violet daisy-like flowers and a compact form would be pretty in the corner of each bed. The tag claimed they would bloom all summer, and despite the heat and drought, these guys haven’t skipped a beat. I will admit to spoiling them with long drinks of water laced with water-soluble fertilizer.
I also treated myself to a full tray of purple salvias. Cheap, cheerful and virtually indestructible, they are beloved by butterflies and bees. Salvias make great space-holders in a garden until the perennials fill in (this can take two years or more).
The central herb garden was anchored with an ornamental iron obelisk, a young clematis is working her way up the structure. The bed was divided into quarters with rows of curly parsley, then each section was filled with my favourite herbs. Genovese and purple basil, thyme, tricolour and purple sage, lemon verbena, rosemary, tarragon and garlic chives have all exploded this month —a sunny disposition, well-drained soil and reflected heat from the bricks have created a Mediterranean-like climate for these heat-loving plants.
Hidden behind the block of basil, a handful of carnations are poised to bloom. I couldn’t resist their spicy, clove-like fragrance, which reminds me of my grandfather’s Port Weller garden. I’ll admit the carnations are pure whimsy — they are not elegant or stylish — and I adore them.
By sticking to a disciplined plant list and a simple colour scheme of green, violet and purple/pink, the casual design has a polished look, along with a splash of whimsy.