“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:
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.’ 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
Above: If you thought leaves were boring, think again. Solenostemon ‘Purple Prince’, black-leafed Dahlia ‘Mystic Illusion’, and Salvia farinacea ‘Victoria Blue.’
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. 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.
All week, we’re republishing some of our favorite Garden Visits that have a personal connection to our writers. No public gardens here, no vast estates, no professionally designed landscapes—just the backyards, vegetable patches, and flower beds that remind our writers of home. This story by Gardenista contributor Clare Coulson is from June 2022.
In the summer of 2017, I planted a gravel garden along a scrappy stretch of land that edged a recently renovated studio. I wanted to create a small garden that was a space for guests to look out to or sit in. I knew that this was a sunbaked area—it faces south and has no protection from either the summer sun or the wind that whips through the fields it faces out onto. And with extremely free-draining sandy soil, whatever was planted here had to be resilient and, as I had no plans to irrigate, drought-tolerant, too.
Photography by Clare Coulson.
Above: Stipa tenuissima is the star plant in the garden, acting as a tactile and shimmering base for the spires of verbascum and verbena to move through.
I signed up for the excellent gravel garden study day at Beth Chatto’s garden in Essex, which was a step-by-step with David Ward (he worked with Beth when she created her famed gravel garden in the 1980s). His key tips were: 1) choose plants carefully (Beth’s mantra, after all, was ‘right plant, right place’); and 2) start those plants off well. That means digging in some compost at the outset to ensure that you’ve got good soil and then soaking plants really well before you plant them, ideally leaving each plant soaking in a bucket of water for an hour before planting. Water everything well, but beyond this do not get out the hose.
Above: Dianthus carthusianorum is the perfect dry garden plant; from a low mound of fine leaves, it sends up leggy stems topped with hot pink flowers. They will occasionally re-flower if deadheaded.
We used a sub-base to stabilize the areas where we would walk around the beds and this was topped with gravel. I was left with two organic shaped large beds and once everything was planted I added some gravel around the plants, too, which helps minimize weeds but also retains some moisture.
To save money I grew almost every plant from seed. Some of those plants were incredibly easy to grow: Stipa tenuissima, Dianthus carthusianorum and Verbascum chaixii ‘Album’. Others, including Verbena bonariensis and Eryngium giganteum, I found much more tricky from seed, but they were brilliant self seeders; from a couple of verbena plants, there is now a self-seeded verbena forest in high summer of hundreds of plants that have just placed themselves in any available crack.
Above: Considering a garden from inside a house or building is crucial, creating vistas and sightlines from the place where you might sit and look out.
And the garden has really evolved to be a garden of self-seeders. Poppies have introduced themselves, flowering earlier than everything else in the summer and providing some color. These are followed by hundreds of white verbasums in June and July before the verbena peaks in late summer. I’ve also added some bulbs too—Narcissus ‘Thalia’ for spring and then Allium spaerocephalon for a later color pop around late June.
Light and movement are key to the garden’s success and I can’t say I thought that much about either when I was starting out as a gardener. The sun rises directly behind the garden providing some jaw-dropping moments in the morning. When the grasses here, which include Stipa gigantea and Calamagrostis x acutiflora ‘Karl Foester’ and especially the Stipa tenuissima, move gently on the breeze, it becomes a mesmerizing highly, tactile space. But this is also a garden for insects, and through the summer the garden hums all day and evening with a succession of bees, hoverflies, and butterflies.
Self seeders can, of course, be a pain to garden with. Each summer something edges more into focus and threatens to take over. There’s a constant battle with bronze fennel; its hazy clouds of foliage provide beautiful texture in spring and I love the towering umbels and incredible aromatic element they provide, but leave them to seed at your peril.
All week, we’re republishing some of our favorite Garden Visits that have a personal connection to our writers. No public gardens here, no vast estates, no professionally designed landscapes—just the backyards, vegetable patches, and flower beds that remind our writers of home. This story by contributor Justine Hand is from July 2016.
After bouncing along an undulating, rutted track, wheels crunching over shell drive while wisteria vines lap at the windows, the entrance to my friend Marnie’s garden is like a transition to another world.
Her landscape is an informal, unfussy affair that draws equally from the traditions of English cottage gardens and the wilds of Marnie’s native Cape Cod. Here and there is also a dash of the Mediterranean, reflecting Marnie’s travels to Italy and California. It’s a romantic, unfettered place, full of discovery—the kind that invites children to romp around its pathways. Among the blooms one might find edible treats like thimble berries, or an old pot perfect for the clubhouse, or an ocean-tossed treasure that Marnie has collected from the sea.
Full of proliferous blooms that encroach on paths and climb the walls, Marnie’s world borders, Secret Garden-style, on being overgrown. “I like to let plants do their thing,” she notes. “Sometimes a plant will disappear for a year, and then the next it surprises me by coming back.” This laissez faire approach leads to a much more dynamic garden, “that, like me,” she adds, “changes every year.”
Above: Cape Cod meets Mediterranean—a lobster buoy found washed ashore rests on a deck bordered by a long lavender bed.
Above: The pert faces of verbena and native yarrow bloom in front of the garden shed in July. Above: Marnie’s signature colors, pink and orange, are reflected in these splendid echinacea.
In general, flowers are probably less important than form. Some have a fleeting season, perhaps blooming just once before doing nothing for the remaining eleven months of the year (I’m looking at you Iris germanica). Others have an important support act, providing an abundance of flowers or beautiful foliage for the majority of the year.
Yes, I want plants that are beautiful (and that work well together), but I also want them not to be too much trouble. So increasingly, as I’ve realized that you can never really fight the existing conditions in your garden, I just plant more of these low-work plants. If something does well, and needs little to no TLC then it’s very welcome in my garden.
Earlier this week I read a quote from the late plantswoman Beth Chatto, about her much-copied borders in Essex, England. “The point I need to stress,” she wrote in her ground-breaking book Drought-Resistant Planting, “is that copies of my gravel garden will not necessarily be successful or suitable if the principles underlying my planting designs are not understood. When visitors to my garden tell me they have attempted to make a gravel garden but the plants don’t look or behave as they do in mine, they wonder what they have done wrong. I ask ‘What type of soil do you have?’, ‘Very good,’ they reply. The amount of rainfall? ‘Twice what we have here,’ they tell me. I laugh and tell them if I had good soil and adequate rainfall I would not be growing drought-resistant plants.”
Favorite plants should always come with this disclaimer—what works in one garden may not work in another, because the soil, moisture, and conditions will vary immeasurably. Some of my most cherished plants will flourish in all conditions, but some do particularly well because they are especially suited to my garden, which has very free-draining sandy soil and is largely in full sun.
With that in mind, here are the plants I would not be without.
Above: I love almost all salvias and they all tend to love my garden, too, so long as I put them in a sunny spot. ‘Caradonna’ has the most intense deep purple flowers that will be smothered in bees for weeks on end. Once it’s finished flowering I cut it back and it will re-flower again, although less prolifically. This is a very upright salvia and looks best softened with hazy grasses or more unruly perennials such as Knautia macedonica.
Nepeta ‘Six Hills Giant’
Above: Arguably the most prolific, no-trouble plant I grow. Catmint springs into life early in the season, often flowering well before any other herbaceous perennial. It’s healthy, seems to cope with almost any conditions, and is particularly beloved by bees that smother this plant while it’s in flower. As soon as it starts to go over, I cut the whole plant back to a few inches from the base and it will usually regrow and flower again within a few weeks. It’s also very easy to divide and replant and looks fabulous flopping over a pathway.
Verbena bonariensis
Above: All the verbenas work really well in my garden, but the tall, billowing Verbena bonariensis is a brilliant border plant, emerging in mid-summer amongst other perennials and grasses. It’s a favorite of many butterflies and has an extremely long season. It looks wonderful though the autumn and winter as it holds its structure, but it will also happily self-seed so I am normally selective in how much of it I leave standing. Finches love to eat the seeds in winter, too.
Not being realistic about gardening in wetland conditions and thinking plants will survive if I plant them high enough. But even some of the hardiest can’t stand up to salt-water floods. I have had to let go of my love for boxwood hedges, which were wiped out in Hurricane Sandy. I try to focus on native shrubs and hardy plants. My vegetable beds are very high now as well.
Unpopular gardening opinion:
Above: The Rosa multiflora on her property provides food and shelter for the birds.
I have embraced the invasive species that the birds help spread. Planting on a barrier island with climate change evident in the rising waters and frequent, bigger storms presents many challenges, to say the least. The season starts with yellow flag irises surrounding the house to the multiflora rose explosion in May and finally capped off with a profusion of purple loosestrife in July to August.
Gardening or design trend that needs to go:
A gardening practice that has to cease is the use of toxic pesticides that are killing us with cancer-causing chemicals seeping into our water and killing the pollinators, birds—destroying the food chain. It’s unbelievable that the US has not banned Roundup yet. There are so many old-school, inexpensive, non-chemical options readily available.
Old wives’ tale gardening trick that actually works:
Always plant lavender by your doors to ward off evil spirits (this has been a pretty happy little house for 30 years so who’s going to say it doesn’t work?) Coffee grinds to keep critters away.
Favorite gardening hack:
Growing marigolds with tomatoes to helps enrich the soil and deter pests; cardboard to suppress weeds when laying in new gardens.
Favorite way to bring the outdoors in.
Above: Found natural treasures on Alex’s fireplace mantel.
Cuttings from whatever is blooming outside. love the drama of the long arching canes of multiflora roses, so dramatic in our little cottage, or the tall stems of drying fennel and grasses, mixed with bits of nature, fallen birds nests or antlers shed from our local deer. Then there are the rocks, they are everywhere; collected from beach walks and travels, it’s a problem.
Every garden needs a…
A bit of white to contrast against the shades of layered greens, from variegated leaves to sweet autumn clematis, hydrangea ‘Limelight’. And a little bit of chocolate for contrast—I love the stark contrast against greens—chocolate cosmos, black cornflowers, hollyhocks ‘Blackknight’, coral bells.
Lots of flowers planted amongst the vegetables for the pollinators—particularly African blue basil—they love the blue flowers when it goes to seed and it smells so great when you brush up against it.
Favorite hardscaping material:
Above: River rocks line a planting border.
River rocks. Living with wetland conditions, we wanted a way to elevate our beds in a rambling, natural manner.
Tool you can’t live without:
Lindsey Taylor introduced me to my favorite Japanese hori hori knife a few years ago—so many uses. Sneerboer Narrow Perennial Spade is a recent purchase and a game-changer.
Go-to gardening outfit:
Vintage French work top I bought from Marston House years ago at a garden show pop-up, great pockets and faded fatigues. Gardenheir clogs on dry days and BOGS boots for the wet weather.
A trip to Daylesford in the Cotswolds and a spin through a few of the storied English gardens
Not-to-be-missed public garden/park/botanical garden:
Jardin du Plantes in Paris. And the transporting experience of Tokyo’s Nezu Museum garden + teahouse. I always welcome green refuge on busy work trips.
The REAL reason you garden:
It keeps me sane and nurtures my soul; providing much needed quiet and reflective time away from screens with my hands in the dirt.
Thanks so much, Alex! Follow her on Instagram @mybloomist.
After all the planning for the garden layout is done, being able to buy (or grow) your plants feels like something of a victory, the fun bit when you can finally get to see a garden taking shape. In my previous column in this series on making “A Garden from Scratch,” I broached the bigger picture of the types of plants you might want to consider for your garden. In this column I get up close to the plants themselves and investigate what to choose and how to put it all together.
Your own tastes are key here—it’s all very well meticulously planning, but ultimately you want to step into a garden full of things you love. (A chaotic jumble, in fact, can feel just as magical as a considered design—often more so.) Ideally as you plan your garden you will have drawn up a wishlist of everything you love that will also thrive in your garden conditions. The goal for most gardeners is to find a space for as many of the plants on that list as possible.
Below, my tips on how to choose your plants wisely.
Above: This border has a line of Chanticleer pear trees and is enclosed by copper beech hedge. The borders are filled with perennials in blue and apricots, including Geranium ‘Rozanne’, Baptisia australis, hardy geraniums, and Iris pallida, as well as textural grasses and hydrangeas for later in the season.
If I’m planting a big area from scratch, I draw out a flat plan that roughly marks out the plants, taking into consideration both how those plants will look mingling next to each other and how much space they will ultimately need. It’s not an exact scale drawing but an approximation of the size (height and spread) I think a plant could take up. If you’re not familiar with the plant, you can usually get a good sense of its growth habit and mature appearance from its nursery label.
2. Put perennials on repeat.
Above: The same border seen from the opposite direction. Alchemilla mollis, catmint, and pennisetum are repeated all along the border, which makes it feel visually cohesive. Peppered between them are plants with a shorter season, including alliums, camassia, foxgloves, asters, and hydrangeas.
We generally save the “before” images for the end of our articles, but in this case, it’s helpful and inspiring to see upfront the space pre-remodel. Take a look at this entirely drabby and exposed rooftop. If a tiny, depressing roof can be transformed into a private urban oasis, one that invites lingering and relaxation, then anything’s possible.
The incredible terrace makeover is the work of London-based landscape designer Lis Eriksson. Her client gave her free rein over the design but did have a few requests: 1) adequate shade as he is fair-skinned; 2) low-pollen plants on account of his allergies; and 3) flowers in shades of purple, his favorite color.
Above: The roof of the Victorian coach house pre-transformation. Skylights protruding onto the roof made it unusable for the homeowner. The entire space measures just 9 square meters (or 29.5 square feet).
After
Above: The client can now walk out directly onto a tranquil rooftop deck. Partitions composed of Sapele slats, lightly brushed with Rustoleum paint in Chalk, provide privacy.
Above: Everything, from the plant design to the custom built-ins, was designed by Lis. A pergola offers ample shade, as promised. “I also added a heater hanging from the pergola so that he can comfortably enjoy the space in the colder months,” she shares.
You’d think choosing plants was easy enough—just find the ones you like, right? And for single specimens in a pot or a monoculture of, say. roses or hydrangeas, it is as simple as that.
But what about designing a border where plants need to relate to each other in a well-thought-out design? And what if you have a large blank canvas to fill with a whole range of plants. This is when it can get a little more complicated. For the third post in my column on creating A Garden From Scratch, I tackle how to figure out the kind of plants you might want in your landscape. Before you get too excited, let me clarify that I’m not talking about choosing specific plants here; this is about the bigger, long-term picture of how to put plants together in a space and why.
(To read my earlier stories in the Garden from Scratch series, go here, then here.)
Photography by Clare Coulson.
Above: Where to even begin? My cottage garden, photographed here in midsummer, is an ever-changing tableau of favorite plants and supporting acts that lurk in the background. It’s always good to remember when you start out that plants can be moved, replaced, or relocated and that the picture is never final or complete—there’s always something that can be tweaked or improved—and that is half the enjoyment of gardening.
1. Get trees in first.
Above: Early spring in my garden and there’s still not that much flowering, but the Amelanchier lamarckii tree provides starry white blossoms. By the time the spring bulbs really get going, the pretty bronze foliage of this tree will emerge providing an interesting contrast with the bright colors below. Additional structure here comes from the domed forms of Choisya ternata, hebes and Ilex crenata. In the distance, a lot of euphorbia.
Planting design is about a series of layers, from the woody plants, including trees and climbers, to the shrubs, herbaceous perennials, biennials, and annuals. Most gardens will have a mix of all of these types of plants to create a succession of interest throughout the year, and a balance of structural plants that will provide a backdrop to herbaceous plants that will flower and die back.
It’s logical to begin with the trees since they generally need the most time to mature. They are also arguably the most important thing to get right, being the least ephemeral. Incorporating some trees, or even a single specimen, can instantly ground a space, bringing strong structure, height, and impact—as well as, in many cases, year-round interest. For this same reason think very carefully before removing any mature trees or shrubs from an inherited space.
It’s the one place perhaps where it’s worth spending some money to buy something really beautiful—a trio of Amelanchier or Prunus multi-stem or specimen trees, for example, may feel like a big investment, but it will have instant impact, as well as blossoms in spring, lush foliage through summer, and then great leaf color later in the year. In winter its form has its own allure. Tip: Buy young trees—they are far more economical and will usually settle in faster than mature specimens. Buying bareroot plants also helps to keep down costs.
2. Invest in evergreens.
Above: Controlled chaos. There are a lot of frothy plants in this border snapshot including Valerian officinalis, hesperis, roses, Allium sphaerocephalon, catmint, and hardy geraniums. But the structure from clipped boxwood, hebes, and other foliage helps to ground the space and provide moments of contrast.
Another worthwhile investment: evergreen forms that will provide four-season structure. Boxwood would have ticked all the boxes, but now that these are under the dual threat of box blight and box caterpillar, few gardeners would take a risk with them. There are plenty of alternatives—yew, Ilex crenata, many pittosporums, rosemary, hebes, daphnes can all be grown into shapes that will provide permanent year-round forms and act as a foil to herbaceous plants. Deciduous plants like beech and hornbeam can also provide structure, too. (See Landscaping 101: Boxed in by Boxwood? 5 Shrubs to Try Instead.)
