Very late yesterday afternoon a good client came in with a request; could I replant her terrace pots for an event scheduled for ten am this morning? I’ve known her long enough to know she is a young and talented professional who had successfully held down a number of high-powered and demanding jobs. I know she is formidably intelligent and hard-working. Suffice it to say I have met many people capable of great compassion; she is remarkable in how compassionately she lives her life. A new job she was crazy about had been eliminated in a round of budget cuts, leaving her unexpectedly unemployed. As for replanting her terrace garden in less than 24 hours over a weekend-I also know her well enough to know she wasn’t kidding. As I hate to say no to any request for a garden no matter the parameters, I waited for more details. Regularly people ask me for gardens, when that is not what they really want. I find often as not that what they really want is some part of what a garden represents to them, that can be better gotten elsewhere. A woman new to my area with three small children wanted a sports court. I gave her the locations of three parks with sports courts close to her new neighborhood to check out. I asked to to let me know what features she liked. I never heard from her again; I am sure she realized that taking her children to her neighborhood park, and reaching out to her neighbors was a better solution for her isolation. As for my client, I doubted she was preparing for a job interview on the terrace of her condo on a Sunday morning, but I was only partially right.
She would be interviewed, for a television documentary being filmed on the baby boomer generation. I missed some of the details, but she had had occasion to talk to Tom Brokaw at an event at the University of Michigan on Saturday. He explained he was in the process of filming a story in which he intended to detail and investigate the issues facing her generation via a series of interviews. He asked if he could interview her in greater depth, at her home, the next morning, as he was impressed with how articulate she was. I asked what she had said that had piqued his interest. “I told him that I was at a point where I need a husband or a job”, she said. As I know her to be confidently plain spoken, his interest in her did not surprise me in the least.
If I thought I was going to be interviewed at home by Tom Brokaw, my first thought would be how to get the place suitably dolled up-so I knew I had to get those terrace pots replanted. It took a little while to convince her that she could do it herself. As there was no way I was hauling seven gallon pots overflowing with ornamental cabbages up the three flights of stairs, and through her house out to her terrace, I had to convince her. As I have always done her pots for her, I also had to loan her garden tools, and explain how to keep the debris from the old plantings from falling through the floor onto the terrace below her. As I subscribe to that notion that you never know when you are going to meet your intended, I strongly encouraged her to ask him for his ideas about how she could find that husband, or that job. Why not? I stuffed her Prius with plants, and shooed her out of here. As she is a very independent sort, I had only one phone call, with one question taking no more than 30 seconds. I am sure the terrace looked beautiful this morning.
This morning I am not thinking about why Diane’s pots were full of dead, or almost dead plants. She told me why; she had just quit watering them. Why she quit-I have my ideas, but I don’t see that they matter. What I did wonder was how much more effectively she would have communicated how she felt about her life, a job, a home, her culture, her situation- had she left those dead plants for him to see. An abandoned garden, a fading bloom, a killing frost, the failing light-my emotional connection to what I do, and what I do that ends or fails, is strong. Though I have long known that she was single, I have never had her ask me to plant the terrace with a little romance in mind. I plan to address that, the next opportunity I get. In my opinion, the most beautiful landscapes strike a powerful emotional chord with a viewer. They have atmosphere. They may have fountains, or grass paths or shasta daisies or not, but their most compelling feature is an unmistakeably emotionally charged atmosphere. The gardenmaker has transformed some part of themselves into a sculpture, which is a place for others to be. There is a question being asked, a story being told, a sanctuary being built, a celebration in progress. Gardens in which people are personally involved are the most satisfying to see.
The most emotionally charged landscape I have ever had the privilege to visit is the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington DC, designed by Maya Lin. No one there while I was there spoke above a whisper; it is clearly sacred ground. I am sure many thousands of American hands have traced the letters of the names of those who gave their lives, inscribed in the stone of the wall. The voices of the dead and the voices of the families of the dead can be heard, if you listen. The bouquets of flowers, the boxes containing medals, the faded letters left at the foot of the wall are collected every day, only to be replaced the next day with more; people feel free to respond to what they experience there with their most powerful feelings. Feeling free to express is a privilege to which my country has a long history of committment. Standing there, I felt what it means to be an American. The experience of reading the names of college friends who died in this war precipitated a flood of memories I did not remember I had. I felt a strong empathy with everyone else I saw there, though I knew I would never see them again. The wall is set into the side of a grassy slope. Someone once wrote that they could imagine after generations, that the grass would grow over the face of the wall altogether, and the granite gash in the land that symbolizes a war our country fought at great human cost, would be healed. Well said.
The only person that my little garden heals is me, but that is enough. Some days the peace of it and the home of it washes over me like a warm wave. Watching over the growing makes me feel like I have contributed a little something. If you are making a garden, the voice that is all your own will charge the atmosphere. In store for this client next year, a garden plan of a different sort. Why not?
The benefactor tables surrounding the upper level Orpheus fountain glowed with the soft light from hundreds of votive candles set on their surfaces. The white tablecloths, umbrellas, garden flowers,the costumes of the dance troup and water reflected light in every direction. This kind of romance makes people feel good. 
The votive-lit lanterns skimming the surface of the Triton pools were repeated ingound, lighting the path from the entrance to the event, to its center. Designing and creating a walk to the event gave every guest the chance to shift their visual gears from their every day landscape to this specially made and momentary landscape. This transition helps to build anticipation for the event; when I have the idea I am going to enjoy something, I usually do.
I had not thought about the fact that the level of glow the one votive candle tucked into each sphere would vary greatly given the size of that sphere. That variation in light level proved especially beautiful – courtesy of a little physics via the umbrella we call nature.
As the evening wore on, the intensity of light emitted from the spheres, and the diminishing ability to gauge the water level gave the impression that all the spheres were floating on, or hovering over the water.
The reflection of the spheres in the still water made it seem like the spheres were multiplying. The water, the weather, and the light acting on those spheres made this event. How weather acts on a landscape is a critical factor in its success. I do my best work when I am paying attention to that.
Of course there would be music, dining and dancing. The bidding on the art at auction was brisk; people were enjoying themselves. It was such a pleasure seeing the Triton pools, and their sculptures at night.
The perfect moment that night? The coming of the frogs. Late in the evening, the spheres were host to many hundreds, maybe thousands, of frogs. They gravitated to the spheres, and took up residence. Everyone could hear them singing, before anyone spotted where they were perched. Some said the rhythm of that singing matched the rhythm of the music; I choose to believe that was so. 
A large tent would be a temporary home to a collection of art destined for auction that evening. Each work was donated by a previous graduate of the academy; this part of the event generated considerable interest and participation. Tables reserved for groups representing the major benefactors for this event were placed in the fountain garden.
The remnants of puddles you see on the ground in the above picture bring back memories for me; it rained fiercely the afternoon of the event. What I had thought I would have the entire day to accomplish would have to be done in less time. The threat of bad weather makes any garden party all the more exciting to plan and produce-in this case, it was more excitement than I really wanted. 
A cocktail reception would be held in a grassy area immediately adjacent to the showpiece of the Cranbrook landscape-the Triton pools. We fashioned simple tents for the hordoerves tables from double layers of white fabric attached to bamboo poles. Steel shoes for the poles were sunk in the ground at an outward angle, stretching the fabric tight and smooth. Nature had another idea in store; the intense downpour changed that flat profile to a graceful swoop. This unexpected contribution from the sky was a good one; I liked the swooping fabric against the curving path. We had painted a rambling path for guests arriving at the Lone Pine entrance to the garden to the reception area, with athletic paint. 
The big gesture? I had the idea to affix paper lanterns to slender steel rods anchored with bricks which would sit on the on the pool bottom. Advance measurements of the water depth enabled us to create the impression that the lanterns were floating on the surface of the water. What fun it was to get in these fountains; I never expected this opportunity to come along. A crew of four of us spent the better part of the afternoon wading in the water.
We set up hundred of lanterns of different diameters. Each steel rod had a platform at the top holding a votive candle. As we set the lanterns, we lit the votives rated to burn for ten hours, and hoped no more rain or wind would come our way. I was equally concerned that no water from the pools wick its way onto the paper. I was interested in creating a little moonlight magic, not a wet paper mess.
It seemed the rain had cleared off, and we did finish with an hour to spare before guests were due to arrive. The reception would begin at the very far end of the pools, and guests would wind their way uphill. 
I was happy to have finished my part as the catering staff was setting up. I was on my way home to get dressed; I did not want to miss how all of this would look at night. 
Attending an event gives you the chance to experience it as other people do. There is plenty to be learned from this-what proves awkward, what is not visually strong enough when a space is full of people, what proves to be good that you never gave a moment’s thought to. Any party in a garden will surprise you.
The upper peninsula of Michigan, and the Sault in particular, is home to a substantial population of American bald eagles. They are proud of the fact that the eagle which symbolizes our entire nation thrives here, as well they should be. The bald eagle is as much a local treasure, as it is a national one. As any fountain placed on City property would be subject of discussion, design and review by committee, it seemed those firecely wild and independent birds would make a fitting subject for a sculpture, and appeal to a broad audience. We chose a subject matter we knew would strike a chord with a number of people. Given some drawings and dimensions of this object, a CAD drawing was produced enabling the project to be quoted. Nothing with cities proceeds quickly, but it does proceed; we were cleared to build.
This fourteen foot tall steel sculpture interpretive of a tree would cover a plumbing system designed to propel water out the topmost branch. Attached to that tree would be a network of steel twigs representing an eagle aerie. The galvanizing tank in which we hot dip galvanize all of our steel is only 5.5 feet wide; one branch of the tree would have to be mechanically installed after the contruction process was complete. The fountain was designed in the round for viewing, not designed to fit a tank. 
Life-size bald eagles hand sculpted from a steel rod and mesh galvanized armature, and acid stained mortar, would be attached to the sculpture via steel sleeves made to match the size and angle of the legs. 
Buck followed this semitruck on whose whose flatbed that sculpture was securely tied down-for 340 miles. The next day, he supervised the installation, driving home late in the day. The sculpture had been installed.