ReportWire

Tag: Garden Beds

  • Expert Advice: 10 Tips from Old House Gardens for Planning a Spring Bulb Garden – Gardenista

    [ad_1]

    In Chicago, where I grew up, tulips were pretty much the only thing that kept us going through the winter. You can survive snow, and you can survive ice, and you can even survive the razor winds that blow in from the lake to rub your face raw, if you know that one day you will look out a window and see a clump of tulips, their swan necks improbably supporting the weight of their fat flowers.

    But it can be daunting, in the autumn, to figure out how precisely to make tulips happen. Which varieties to plant? Will crocuses grow in your climate? How do you gracefully make room in the garden for flowers that bloom briefly before producing withering foliage you shouldn’t cut back for weeks?

    For advice, I phoned bulb grower Scott Kunst of Old House Gardens in Michigan. He grows and sells hundreds of hardy and rare, vintage varieties of tulips, daffodils, crocuses, hyacinths, bluebells, and other bulbs.

    “Start small,” he suggested.

    Here are Scott Kunst’s 10 ideas for planning a spring bulb garden:

    Photography by Michelle Slatalla except where noted.

    Know your microclimate.

    Above: Photograph by John Merkl for Gardenista.

    Go outdoors and take stock of your garden’s microclimate: where are the sunny spots and well-drained soil? That’s where most bulbs grow best. Draw a garden plan to remind yourself.

    Buy 5, 7, 9, or 11.

    Above: At Rodsmarton Manor. Photograph by Britt Willoughby Dyer, for Gardenista.

    While you’re looking at your garden, imagine clumps of bulbs, planted in clusters of five or more of a single variety; that’s how they look best.

    Know your hardiness zone.

    The US Department of Agriculture has developed a map of hardiness zones to help you choose plants that will survive in the climate of your geographic area. Check your USDA hardiness zone by entering your zip code at USDA Plant Hardiness Map; purchase bulbs that are rated for your zone. You can search for bulbs for your zone with the Heirloom Bulb Finder at Old House Gardens.

    Start small.

    Here are some Foolproof Spring Bulbs for a Beginner. Photograph by Meredith Swinehart.
    Above: Here are some Foolproof Spring Bulbs for a Beginner. Photograph by Meredith Swinehart.

    The first year you plant bulbs, fill a few holes in the garden rather than trying to make the whole garden look like a field in Holland.

    Use a fence as backdrop.

    Photograph by Scott Patrick Myers.
    Above: Photograph by Scott Patrick Myers.

    Plant bulbs in narrow, curving clusters that run parallel to the fence. “This is a trick I learned from Gertrude Jekyll,” says Kunst. “Rather than planting a big, round circle that’s three feet wide, make a gentle curve that’s about 18 inches wide. The bulbs will be in your line of vision when they bloom, and after they go over, other plants behind and in front will hide the yellow foliage.”

    Heights may vary.

    Above: Narcissi pictured here in floral designer Milli Proust’s windowsill. Photograph courtesy of Milli Proust, from Cult Narcissi: Rethinking the Uncool Daffodil.

    When deciding where to place bulbs, take size guidelines with a grain of salt. Heights of the same variety of bulb can vary from one year to the next, and in different growing zones. “It’s OK to mix up heights,” says Kunst. “It looks less garden-y than if you try to put all the tall ones in the back and all the short ones in the front.”

    Don’t let them touch.

    Photograph by John Merkl for Gardenista. For more, see Gardening 101: How to Plant a Spring Bulb.
    Above: Photograph by John Merkl for Gardenista. For more, see Gardening 101: How to Plant a Spring Bulb.

    [ad_2]

    Source link

  • Color Theory: 10 Perfect Plant Combinations for Autumn – Gardenista

    [ad_1]

    “I don’t do frilly,” say Diane Schaub, director of gardens at Central Park Conservancy. We are standing under the shade of an old magnolia in the English garden, one of three smaller gardens within Central Park’s six-acre Conservatory Garden near the northeast corner of the park. Schaub, who earned a diploma from the New York Botanical Garden’s School of Professional Horticulture, has been curating the Conservatory Garden for more than 30 years. And while she does not do frilly, she does do color and texture, breathtakingly well. She has a painter’s eye for composition and an architect’s instinct for structural detail.

    Below, we share her best color combinations for fall garden beds:

    Photography by Marie Viljoen for Gardenista.

    Burgundy + Green

    Above: “This is as frilly as I go,” she clarifies, indicating a velvet-leafed plant with burgundy leaves, beside the bluestone path. The plant in question is a Solenostemon (formerly classified as Coleus) and the cultivar is ‘Lancelot.’
     Solenostemon
    Above: Solenostemon ‘Lancelot’ (paired with Salvia ‘Paul’) belongs to a crew of leafy annuals whose impact is felt dramatically in this garden, where the seasonal spectacle owes a great deal to plants whose interest lies in their foliage.

    Purple + Yellow + Blue

    If you thought leaves were boring, think again. Solenostemon
    Above: If you thought leaves were boring, think again. Solenostemon ‘Purple Prince’, black-leafed Dahlia ‘Mystic Illusion’, and Salvia farinacea ‘Victoria Blue.’

    Purple + Red

    Elephant-eared Colocasia esculenta
    Above: Elephant-eared Colocasia esculenta ‘Black Magic’, Solenostemon ‘Redhead’, and Agastache cana ‘Heather Queen.’

    Purple + Lilac

    A bed of Pennisetum setaceum 
    Above: A bed of Pennisetum setaceum ‘Rubrum’, Salvia x ‘Indigo Spires’, the leafy and lilac-striped Strobilanthes dyeranus, and elephant-eared Colocasia esculenta ‘Blue Hawaii’. The latter “makes the whole composition work,” says Schaub. Dark purple Pennisetum ‘Vertigo’ is in the background.
    The English Garden is arranged in beds radiating from a central pond overhung by the largest crabapple tree in Central Park, leaves now turning yellow. Designed by Betty Sprout and opened in 1937, this part of the park was by the 1970s considered one of the most dangerous places in New York City. In 1980, the Central Park Conservancy was formed in response to the neglect the park had suffered in the previous two decades. Its founding director, Elizabeth Rogers, earmarked the Conservatory Gardens for renovation.
    Above: The English Garden is arranged in beds radiating from a central pond overhung by the largest crabapple tree in Central Park, leaves now turning yellow. Designed by Betty Sprout and opened in 1937, this part of the park was by the 1970s considered one of the most dangerous places in New York City. In 1980, the Central Park Conservancy was formed in response to the neglect the park had suffered in the previous two decades. Its founding director, Elizabeth Rogers, earmarked the Conservatory Gardens for renovation.

    [ad_2]

    Source link

  • Moving to the Country: A City Girl Finds Hope and Harvest at Meadowburn Farm – Gardenista

    Moving to the Country: A City Girl Finds Hope and Harvest at Meadowburn Farm – Gardenista

    [ad_1]

    On March 18th, 2020, we closed our Brooklyn Heights shops, Salter House and Picture Room, along with just about every other business in New York City as the Covid pandemic swept through the city. We packed as much of the inventory as we could into our Volvo and settled in to quarantine at Meadowburn for an unknown length of time. [N.B.: See Sandeep’s Brooklyn apartment here.]

    Like millions of others this past spring, we struggled to keep our businesses afloat, all while frantically navigating Zoom school and an unfathomable amount of anxiety. It was around this time that the Gerards asked us if we would like to join them in reviving one of the vegetable plots in the upper garden. I was thrilled.

    Above: Me and my green bean joy! Photograph by Sita Bhuller.

    Our first crop, sweet peas, failed. But after that, it was pretty smooth sailing! We fumbled our way through seedings, divided up watering and weeding duties, and formed friendships along the way. Soon enough, this Londoner, who has killed every house plant ever fostered and has not successfully grown a single sprout from seed since primary school Daffodil Days (and even then, her daffodils were always the weakest looking in the class), was sprouting everything she could get her hands on: tomatoes, spinach, lettuce, Brussel sprouts, watermelons, cucumbers, sage, and much much more.

    I quickly learned choreography to seed the dirt and relished the hours spent in the garden. It was my time. The kids usually got bored after five minutes of following me around, and so would leave me in peace.

    A sampling of the crops we grew this summer.
    Above: A sampling of the crops we grew this summer.

    As more of our crops came to maturity, we began to buy less and less at the grocery store. I became obsessed with preparing full meals solely from crops we had grown and felt immense satisfaction when I was able to achieve it. Gardening was fully nourishing, meditative—and absolutely practical. Any problems that arose could be literally weeded out, tossed onto the compost heap, or simply devoured and attempted again. As dilettante gardeners, there was nothing necessary, but something wholly precious, and certainly privileged about the whole endeavor.

    [ad_2]

    Source link