Sinking A Garden

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Sinking a garden can be a good idea for lots of reasons. In this case, the most compelling reason had to do with proximity.  My clients live in an urban neighborhood in which the properties are small, and the homes are big. Large homes loom over their back yard on three sides, making privacy a big issue.  My first thought was to enclose their yard with little leaf lindens.  The lindens would provide wide screening up high; the trunks would take up very little space on the ground plane. We would take the additional step of sinking this garden by elevating its edges. 

Aug 28d 288A retaining wall of pressure treated lumber was installed near the lot line; the lindens were planted some sixteen inches above grade.  A six foot high wood fence, painted “disappearing green”, would provide complete screening at the tree level.  My clients are very fond of the buildings in New Harmony, Indiana.  All of the later additions and modifications to the original architecture have been painted “disappearing green”-a color which recedes from view such that it is easy to see the original architectural intent of the buildings. I would describe the color as a dark muddy green brown.  With  the trees and fence in place, the screening would be a dominant element of the garden, but occupy a very small space.   I lowered the ground plane as much as I could without endangering the drainage of the loqwer level.  The trees instantly gained 18 inches in height; this placement put the lower branches of the lindens just above the top of the fence.  This is what I would call engineering one’s screening.  

Aug 28d 662Of course that sixteen inches of soil was not going to stay put without some retaining on the front edge as well.  My clients chose a rustic stone for the tree planter box walls, and the retaining for the garden beds.  You see stone laid out everywhere on the site; the stone mason needs to pick and choose which stones fit together so the mortar joints are small and unobtrusive.  It would be three steps up into the house; I made them deep and wide-easy to navigate. It was most important to them to have a private garden; they were willing to deal with the up and down.  

Aug 28c 466The sixteen inches of plant mix filling these beds would vastly improve the quality and drainage of the soil.  The garden would be easy to plant, and weed.  The worst thing about weeds-how far they are away from your fingers, and what your back has to do in order to get your fingers where they need to be.   An entire tool industry is built around that distance.  These gardens would be closer to the hands maintaining them.

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A new addition to the house would limit access to the back yard.  The big idea-the French doors you see on the left of this photo were installed in the rear wall of the garage.  Designing this space would be part two of this project.

Aug 28d 663This landscape would eventually have three distinct levels.  The change of grade would provide a lot of visual interest for a very small space.  Not incidentally, a sunken garden dramatically reduces ambient noise.  Earth is the only thing which really blocks sound; no amount of plant material will screen out unwelcome noise.  Homes built in close proximity face both audial and visual screening issues.  I like living in a neighborhood, but am I enchanted with my neighbor’s kids shrieking or the sound of their lawn mower-no, not so much.

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Every gardener appreciates that the sound of water in a garden is  delightful and relaxing.  The sound of water also masks other sounds not so soothing.  Though I live but a block from a very busy six lane urban thoroughfare, my  concrete house and sunken rose garden keep the intrusion to a minimum.  This waterfall /fountain makes the change of level a modest musical event. No matter how small, every garden has the potential to be eventful. 

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With the fence, trees, stone and water in place, we are ready for phase two.

House on a Hill

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The idea of a house on a hill has a grand and romantic ring to it-especially considering I have spent my entire life standing on ground no higher than sea level. The terraced gardens of the villas of the Italian Lakes-heavenly.  Meaning, heavenly to look at, and the devil to visit and maintain.  The crest of this fairly steep slope was home to a narrow driveway.  Driving uncomfortably close to  a steep slope can be nervewracking;  I would not have wanted to drive it at night, after a few cocktails.  A beautiful drivecourt would provide room to drive and park. The requirement for flat space would be provided by a retaining wall of pressure treated lumber.  As I planned to grow climbing hydrangea on the face, I chose the most reasonable and serviceable material.

aug-28a-742The driveway was equally close to the front door, and ran past the house to the garage.  This made for little opportunity for a presentation of the house, and its fourteen foot width did not permit much parking.  It seemed appropriate to splurge here.  Two inch thick bluestone laid in a classic aschlar pattern, and bordered in granite setts  announced the entrance in an elegant and spacious way.   

aug-28a-480When not in use as a driveway, or for parking, this  areafunctioned as a terrace. I have known my clients to host a pre-dinner hour here on a nice night.  The asphalt would remain in place on either side.  A stone driveway demands expert installation, a service which is well worth the expense.

aug-28d-760The landscape is simple.  Rectangles planted solidly with yews abut four rectangles of pachysandra and  matching English Oaks.  The triple wide hedge of yews  adjacent to the retaining wall provide security for people and vehicles. These masses of yews did have that polka-dot pattern for a few years until they grew in; proper spacing at planting helps to avoid cultural problems later.

egren0905-11A driveway that runs parallel to the front door  needs a landscape statement that signals an imminent entrance. This drivecourt landscape creates the impression that the garden came first, and the drive through second.  The English oaks enclose the space, without obstructing the view of the house.

egren-7-07It has been a number of years since this garden was installed.  This photograph clearly illustrates what a graceful space has been created from the simple idea of flat ground. Sloped spaces are not particularly sociable or functional spaces.  Deciding how you need a space to function, should organize the design to come.   

egren-7-07-3A pair of French orangery boxes from Les Jardin du Roi Soleil define the transition from driveway to walkway. These boxes have been manufactured in this shape, design, and color since ythe 17th century.  The legs, corners and hinges are cast iron.  Originally, the slatted oak boards and hinged iron permitted the boxes to be opened from the side.  A lemon tree that had summered outdoors could be slid out of its box, and stored in the orangery for the winter. How’s that for a little romance? 

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Simple rectangles of painted wood contain boxwood hedges that sit between the columns of the porch, and on the roof.  The modification of the roof to hold those boxes-the work of a very thoughtful interior designer. 

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There is a fine view from the inside looking out as well.  Flat spaces are great places  to meet and to be.

At A Glance: Agave

 

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Sunday Opinion: Letting Go

I am having dinner tonight with the Baumgartners; I have designed and landscaped for them for 25 years.  They have sold their house, and are moving out east to be near their children.  Their new home will on the fourth floor-so no landscape responsibilities.  A small balcony terrace will certainly not provide them with much of a garden.  But what people need in their lives changes with circumstance.  Though they will miss the house and garden they lived in, and enjoyed for so many years, it is time for something else. The extent to which they loved their place is exactly the extent to which it is proving difficult for them to let go. I have them nearby another 2 months-the time it will take to get their new place ready for them. 

I have talked on the phone with the new owner; though she seemed to have a genuine appreciation for all that came with that house, I could tell in one instant there was a changing of the guard in progress.  I doubt I will ever hear from her again.  I regret having to let go of what took so long to accomplish,  and so much effort to maintain-and what provided so much interaction between the B’s and I.  I also understand that I am pouting about something that has even odds of never happening.  The landscape under new stewardship may prosper, and enjoy a good future-who knows? 

A month ago or so I was shocked beyond all belief to discover, driving by,  that a client had ripped out a landscape of which I was very fond, and replaced it entirely.  The shock stayed with me for a few days.  The lesson: once the work is done, it no longer belongs to me.  The only time that any project belongs to me is while I am designing and making it.  I collect books with old plates and prints of gardens.  Many of those gardens do not exist any more, except on the page. Sometimes I look at those prints with a magnifying glass, in the hopes they will seem more real.  What is very real is my relationship of 25 years with the Baumgartners.  That relationship is what really matters here-not the lead pots on the porch, or the katsura tree, or the magnolia now on a par with the upstairs bedroom windows.  I hate to give them up worse than giving up the garden-of course.  Its just easier to think about the loss of a landscape, than a loss of two good friends.

Another client this week finally lost a gigantic American elm to Dutch elm disease.  She had battled the disease tooth and nail for many years.  The generous bed of baltic ivy underneath its canopy had taken umpteen flats and more, and many years to establish.  She asked me to come and look at the spot; the enormous dirt space looks like a stain.   Every vestige of that tree and its ivy is gone.  Though we will sod this area for the moment, it is clear something is missing.  The old perimeter landscape most definitely looks shaped, and has grown in tandem with something which is no longer there.  It will not be easy to design what should be now. 

Beginnings and endings are an ordinary part of every landscape. Everything has a lifespan.  My neighborhood is in excess of eighty years old now.  The big maples in the right of way have been in serious decline since I moved there.  Whenever there is a storm with high winds I am afraid to drive the last five blocks home.  Sometimes I kill things in a matter of days; I forget to water, or some such thing.   Sometimes I let go too easily, or  conversely, I wait too long to let go.  Though an ordinary thing in a life or landscape, it can be very tough to let go.