Of Fog & Frost

Hello everyone...I hope you're all faring well so far this winter! I have to apologize for my lack of posts these past few weeks. We've had a huge surge of projects all wrapping up at the same time...so the past few weeks (and the upcoming several weeks) are pretty hectic at work. As a result, I've been getting home late...and kind of just want to collapse into my bed and veg out a bit.


Overall, it's been a very mild winter again here in Portland. The weekend before last, however, we got our first real frost (at least in my 'hood)! Not only did we get frost...but it was really foggy in the early morning hours. I was surprised how many people bemoaned the fog. While it's not exactly fun to drive in, I LOVE fog. There's nothing quite like that surreal quality that a dense fog imparts onto the world. Your own neighborhood suddenly feels mysterious...even a little foreboding...I love it!


As soon as I realized we'd had frost, I dashed out in my PJs to get some pics. I love how quiet and still the neighborhood felt, as if the whole world was holding its breath for that moment.


Scenes which just the day before had seemed drab were suddenly thrown into relief.


The tiered spires of Agastache suddenly reminded me of a Pagoda.


Allium seed heads seemed like earthbound snowflakes.


The multihued ribbons of Anementhale had gained lace trim.


Even the wonderfully sinister-looking seed heads of Echinacea received their dollop of icing.


I'm always mesmerized by the whimsical-looking spherical baubles that are the Anemone's seed heads.

Again with Rudbeckia and Echinacea...I was glad the ravenous Finches had left a few seeds intact to catch the frost.


I always imagine the recurved seed heads of Calamagrostis 'Karl Foerster' look somewhat like claws.


As I snapped hundreds (ok, thousands) of photos in my pajamas, a neighborhood couple strolled by, on their way to the bus stop. I think they probably rolled their eyes as they approached, but as they approached the corner, I actually heard them gasp, "It's a winter wonderland!" They came back to tell me that I should make sure to take pictures of the front too ;-)


How amazing is it...the way frost highlights the structure of things...making me see them in a new light!


I'm enamored at its ability to edge such delicate structures into elegant traceries.

On some plants, the layer of frost was almost a dusting of snow.


I hadn't noticed until now how the red coloring in the stems of Sedum 'Matrona' was still so visible. They were a warm counterpoint to the cooler tones surrounding them.


Spider webs, which had been invisible, are suddenly strung like garlands between branches.


This Pennisetum was especially spectacular, each individual awn delineated with white.


Believe it or not, this is just some weedy grass that escaped my watchful eye during the growing season. At this moment, however, I'm grateful I did...it's the perfect bit of filigree to contrast to the red stems of the variegated Willow.


Another group of grasses that are particularly handsome after a frost are the Panicums. Truth be told, there isn't really a time when they aren't lovely...but after being drenched with rain for the past few months, the frost transformed them into gossamer.


The structural, candelabra bloom stalks of Veronicastrum always seem wonderfully sombre to me...even when festooned with frosty banners.


While it's a somewhat unpopular sentiment...over the years, I've really come to value winter.


True...for us gardeners, it's not full of the non-stop excitement of spring, the lustiness of summer, or the abundance of fall. Still, there is a special value to the quietness of winter that I find appealing.


After a busy year in the garden, I need a break...and, if nothing else, winter forces me to take a few months off. The break in activity isn't just physical, but mental. I appreciate the perspective it gives me. When I'm in the midst of planting, watering, moving things around, etc., it's harder to see the big picture at times.


Truth be told, for me, part of the joy of gardening (a large part) is marking the season, and celebrating each of them in their turn. Without fail, I tire of them at some point, and feel the urge to move on to the next. I could never live somewhere without clearly-defined seasons...I think I'd go mad!

Winter also gives me my first real moment to ENJOY my summer garden...as ludicrous as it sounds. During the growing season, I'm all to often distracted with the things that aren't working...the things that bother me. Looking back at photos of the summer garden now, I can't believe I was so worked up about things. While far from perfect (and what garden is ever perfect), the garden looked pretty good last year!


As I grow older and older (not by choice, I guarantee you), I also find that I appreciate the winter garden for it's own charms. There is something visceral about winter...as we move inside to snuggle up in blankets to watch re-runs of The Wonder Years and pour over seed catalogs, outside my window the garden contracts. It withdraws too.


We are not so different...and I feel a sort of kinship with the garden in winter. There's a sort of unspoken agreement that we'll wait this out...and meet up again in a few months.


I always think of the gardening year as a symphony. Without tempo changes or crescendos and decrescendos, it wouldn't be nearly as dynamic or entertaining


There is a truth in the withered forms and blackened seed heads in the winter garden...an honesty. This is life. It's a cycle, with beginnings and endings in continuous motion.


I hope you're making the most of winter wherever you are...

A Visit to Dancing Oaks

Well, I must admit, I've been a negligent blogger lately. Since I don't get home until after dark, I have to take enough photos during the weekend to have anything to blog about...and sometimes that just doesn't happen! Luckily, I still have a backlog of things from last year to fill in the gaps.

As I blogged about last October, Heather (of Just A Girl With A Hammer) and I made a trip down to Wind Dancer to indulge in some plant-shopping. Since we were so close, we decided to hit up Dancing Oaks as well.


Sadly, by the time we made it to the nursery (enduring the Trail of Tears that Dancing Oaks calls their road), we only had 30-40 minutes to look around the garden, let alone shop for plants...so this will be a very brief tour!


The sun was perpetually in front of me, so every photo in this post will be DRAMATIC! This is Colutea x media (aka, Bladder Senna)...which was utterly jaw-dropping in the late afternoon light.


Just look at those cool seed pods! If it had to guess, I'd say this small shrub was fairly innocuous for most of the year...but WOW...if I had room, I'd definitely get one of these!


Of course, my eye always goes for the gorgeous grasses, like this Stipa gigantea...like beaten gold, this one.


As lovely as the blooms of Nigella damasca are, the seed pods are even better (IMHO). There is something fabulous about them...and that feathery, finely-dissected foliage is so nice.


At first, I thought the burgundy foliage in this shot was a Hibiscus...but in looking at it now, it is probably some form of Acer...what unbelievably saturated color...so perfect during autumn.


I've never been a huge fall of Moluccella Laevis (Bells of Ireland), finding them more of a novelty than anything else. The dried seed heads, however, are gorgeous...don't you love how those papery bracts catch and diffuse the setting sun?!?


Another gorgeous plant that demands a bigger space than I could give it, Lobelia tupa...I can't put my finger on what it is that I love about this plant...probably because it's EVERYTHING!


Another long-time love of my, Echinops (Globe Thistle). Again, I just love how the backlighting gleams off every surface of these.


I stopped in my tracks at the sight of this large patch of Catananche caerulea (Cupid's Dart)...the silvery seed heads seemed to glow from within...utterly stunning!


Yup...another shot...so gorgeous!


At this point, an employee reminded us they were closing soon...so we rushed about, looking at the plants for sale. I'm sad to say, we didn't have nearly enough time to search through them nearly as well as I would have liked...but I guess now there's even more reason to return this year :-)

Quest for your Holy Grail

We all have them, right? Those plants that we long for...that seem to be just out of reach, if not completely unavailable? Like most gardeners, I always seem to have one plant that I'm OBSESSED with finding. For years, after visiting the Montreal Botanical Garden, I hunted for a source of Pennisetum macrourum (above). I desperately wanted to have those tall, glowing wands in my garden. Luckily, a few years later, I did find them, at a local nursery (Wind Dancer), no less! Was I sated...hardly!


It seems every time I turn around, there's some new plant for me to become enamoured of. Take the Teucrium on the left...I saw it on Nan Ondra's amazing blog, Hayefield, a year or two ago, and became convinced that it was the perfect plant for me! I found it a last autumn (at what was our last Fall HPSO plant sale) at the Far Reaches booth. I couldn't believe my luck...and snatched up all three of the plants they had on the table! To my delight, they've proven to be amazingly beautiful (and tough) plants.

On the right, are two other plants that I searched for...Iris 'Gerald Darby', which I also discovered on Hayefield. If you haven't noticed by now, Nan's blog is a dangerous place for the plant-obsessed! I fell in love with the purple-flushed new foliage...the almost-black flowering stems...and, of course, those simple, elegant purple blooms. Planted around it, yet another plant I became obsessed with, Knautia 'Melton Pastels', which I first saw a few years ago in an issue of Gardens Illustrated, which is, perhaps, my #1 source of pure GARDEN PORN.


Of course, then there are the plants that we WANT to grow...but just can't, for whatever reason, or that just don't do particularly well in our gardens. For the past few years, I tried and tried to find a Schizachyrium (Little Bluestem) that would stay upright in my garden. In general, many of the prairie grasses will grow well here, but our cool-ish summers (these are plants adapted to blazing-hot, full-sun conditions, after all) produce weak growth that tends to lodge (flop over) as the plants get taller. Imagine my delight last winter when the owner of Wind Dancer, Carolyn Kolb, told me the new cultivar, 'Blue Heaven' (above) was supposed to be very upright...and not prone to flopping here in the PNW!


Of course, it was practically all I could think about all that winter and spring...and when I drove down last summer to get a few of them from Wind Dancer, I practically skipped home with sheer delight. I'm happy to report that they were not only stunningly beautiful, but NONE of them flopped...not in the slightest!


Of course, as soon as I find one thing I've wanted...I move on to another thing. Last fall, Adam Woodruff, a friend and AMAZING designer (seriously, check out his website...it's gorgeous) emailed me the photo above. Intrinsic Perennials had sent him a few plans to trial...and the one that immediately grabbed my attention was the reddish grass in back. It was Andropogon 'Red October'...a new introduction. I was in immediate, complete love! Much like Little Bluestem, Andropogon (Big Bluestem) is a plant I've wanted to grow in my garden for years...but like Little Bluestem, is prone to flopping here in the PNW. Needless to say, however, that visions of this burgundy beauty have been in the back of my little mind all winter.


Then, last week, I got an email from Klehms Song Sparrow Nursery about their new 2013 listings...and I popped over for a look. Lo and behold...they had not one, but TWO new Andropogon varieties for sale! I've read that 'Indian Warrior' is supposed to be more upright (not as prone to lodging) as other Andropogon...so it might just solve my Big Bluestem Dilemma...but oh, the color of 'Red October' makes me weak in the knees. I'll probably get one of each, because I'm a glutton for punishment!

How about you, what is the plant (or plants) that you are on the hunt for? Is there a plant that you want to grow so desperately that you plant it (and kill it) over and over?