function checkIt(string) { place = detect.indexOf(string) + 1; return place; } VA042002="
April 2002

Improving Your Lot Without A Lot of Water

As the owner of a garden design/construction business I find myself at odds with the general populations views on some basic things. Like rain. While most people look forward to sunny weekends, I would selfishly trade most of them for rainy days if I could have dry weather during the week for my crews to work. Many people lament rainy days as uninspiring and bleak but as a gardener I know that life is a balance and into each garden a little rain must fall. If April doesn't bring showers we might not have many May flowers.

We are heading into spring with water-use restrictions as severe as any in recent memory. While new garden plants may not be an option for a while, there is no reason you still can't make wonderful changes to the appearance of your property.

If you're looking to make improvements to your property during this dry season, I suggest beginning with structural changes such as a new patio, paths, or stone walls. Much like redecorating a room inside your home, these garden elements, referred to as 'hardscaping' set moods that can change one's perception of a piece of property and greatly enhance your enjoyment of time spent outside. Once our water supplies have been replenished these new garden spaces can be planted to complete the make over. Ornamental mulches covering bare soil can dress up and reduce erosion until plantings are installed.

Another way to change the way you see your property is by installing landscape lighting. Effective lighting plans can create depth, excitement and surprises around your house by highlighting a special tree or rock, casting shadows of wispy branches on a wall, and leading visitors along a path around gardens or sculptures. Security and safety are also improved when outdoor lighting is added. Typical landscape lighting uses low-voltage fixtures that are energy efficient and modest in installation costs.

Finally, just because you can't water doesn't mean you can't create a new water feature on your property (providing of course, restrictions don't limit this, too). Installing a modest-sized pond with a waterfall or stream can bring tremendous enjoyment and entertainment to your gardens without using up more than a few dozen gallons of water. The water is recycled by a pump which means once filled you barely have to add to it. Birds will come to drink and bathe and if you add a nearby bird feeder you'll have as many colors flying in and around your backyard as any flower bed could provide.

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May 2002

The beginnings of a lifetime garden

I've just started designing and laying out the gardens on a property my wife Carolyn and I recently purchased in South Nyack. Over the course of the next few months, I'd like to share with you some of the thinking, debating, experimenting and learning that will accompany each of our projects.

Most people I know love the idea of gardening but lack the time or knowledge to tackle most projects. I'm hoping that some of these stories might help you through some limitations so you can enjoy creating your own gardens.

Our gently undulating half-acre contains near-perfectly placed mature evergreen trees, fruit trees and rambling shrub borders. The property also has one of the largest Exbury-type Azaleas I've ever seen (this shrub sold me on the property even before I saw the house). Despite these and other botanical treasures scattered around the grounds, there are no real 'gardens' to speak of.

As a garden designer and builder, the challenges and obstacles of the property flowed as freely as the ideas and wish lists for display gardens and recreational space. The main challenge clearly was going to be how to make this property a showplace of horticultural sophistication -- a virtual wellspring of taste and understated elegance deserving of our highly evolved sense of style -- without ruining the place or destroying the history and grace we first fell in love with. It was clear to both of us that these gardens must reflect a series of exercises in restraint.

In these articles I hope to chronicle the current and future chapters in the life of our property as we build gardens and personalize the grounds to suit our tastes and accommodate our lives. It is an interesting project for me because unlike my work with clients, this project will be done on my time. This will also be much more a collaborative effort than I'm used as I share the creative (and hopefully some of the building) process with my wife. Wish us luck.

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June 2002

The month of May. Our first spring on this property is in full bloom. In addition to awe-inspiring displays from the existing redbud, dogwood, apple, pear and other flowering trees, our October planting of spring bulbs has been rewarding us with continuous masses of color since mid-March. Beginning with a small planting of winter aconite and snowdrops and continuing with crocus, iris, hyacinths and tulips, we are still enjoying color with late season daffodils and alliums.

Visually, our half-acre lot can be divided into a dozen separate ‘rooms,’ each offering something different, something special. The property is longer than it is wide and has an elevation change of about 45 feet from front to back. The house sits on the lower portion of the property so there’s a lot of gardening potential in front of and to the side of the house. These spaces will be developed into our main gardening and entertaining areas.

In addition to our bulb planting last autumn, we built a series of stone walls, a street level parking area and stone steps that bridge two of the upper rooms. The steps were built using a combination of quarried bluestone and limestone giving them an immediate ‘old-fashioned’ look that matches the mature settings surrounding them. The presence of the steps provide a focal point on our main lawn which the soon to be built garden borders will frame.

Regardless of how long you’ve been a gardener, the springtime greening and flowering of your gardens is an experience that is never taken for granted. Each year seems to be more glorious than any other in memory. Seeing the riches of this property unfold for the first time makes us feel lucky to call it home. Experiencing it through the exuberant eyes of my novice-gardener wife is an added bonus. As we walk the grounds she begins to recognize the diversity of form and color of each plant as its flowering brings it to prominence. I’m getting an idea of how my parents felt teaching me the plants and bugs and cycles of things happening on the property I grew up on. Now I'm hoping to have inherited their teaching ability in regard to digging holes, planting shrubs, dead-heading Rhododendron and of course weeding beds. Mainly so I can ‘educate’ Carolyn the same way. I can use the help.

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July 2002

I've bought too many Rhododendron.

I’d nearly forgotten my addiction to these wonderful shrubs. It has been a while since I was able to purchase more than a few plants for my own gardens and I’ve simply overreacted. Our new space seems to induce me into buying every Rhody variety I've ever seen - from the common purples and reds to the exotic yellows, creepers, and huge natives. The floppy leafed ‘Scintillation’ to the fuzzy-leaved ‘Yaks’, etc., etc. If you know what I mean...you know what I mean. Luckily my wife doesn't (yet) share my complete enthusiasm for these plants, so we will have room for other genera.

We’ve been developing the shrub and groundcover borders in the main garden, starting with some of the American classics: astilbe, aruncus, filipendula (all wispy-leaved with spiking flower stalks); peony, siberian iris, monk’s hood, hellebores (showy specimen perennials timed for flowering throughout the season); weigelia, buddleia, red twig dogwood (quick growing and informal flowering shrubs to fill in the hedgerow); sweet woodruff, european ginger, bergenia, creeping Jenny (showy groundcovers that offer a great variety of leaf color and texture). We’ll be visiting nurseries wherever we go this summer, keeping our eyes out for unusual additions to our borders.

The effect we're after in this garden, which is true for most gardens, is a blending of complementary hues and textures. At the same time, though, we want a few elements that capture attention. These will include garden ornaments, sculpture, specimen evergreens and timely displays from well-placed perennials.

Now that we're a gardening 'family' our weekend recreation actually includes gardening together. In addition to hiking and biking, we now fit in a few hours each week around the house. One of our favorite gardening activities has become ‘pondering’. It isn’t as tiring as planting and you don’t get as dirty. We do other things as well. Last weekend we tried, without success, to get all the plants in the ground that we brought home from the nursery. We did however accomplish a few solid hours of weeding, pulling vines and removing saplings from two beds where beautiful azaleas are growing. The difference is remarkable, though I'm sure its only noticeable to us. And that's really all that matters, isn't it.

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August 2002

August can be a stressful time for both gardens and gardeners. This is the time in a gardener's year that can test your mettle, separate the men from the boys, the hearty from the lightweights. Its poison ivy time. ‘We’ have contracted quite a case of the nasty stuff. I say we but really only one of us has been miserably itching and scratching for weeks through various ointments, prescriptions and who knows how many folk remedies proudly shared from well meaning family, friend and medical staff members. I guess it only seems like we've both been suffering because, well, let’s just say that poison ivy is not a silent disease.

Now that the scourge has been located on the premises we have set out to avoid it. Doing so requires proper identification as well as precaution. I’ve always repeated the adage, “Leaves of three - leave it be” to anyone wondering how to recognize poison ivy (Rhus toxidendron). Not until I really had to identify the plant for someone else did I really think about how varied (and therefore difficult to identify) the forms of the plant can be. Turns out, poison ivy can be a tiny plant with light green pointed leaves growing on the ground. It can be a vine with pointed long dark green leaves growing on the ground or in bushes. Perhaps its most menacing form is in three to four-inch thick hairy vines that climb trees, telephone poles and fences - seemingly ready to take an infectious swipe at us as we innocently walk or ride by. After many times of pointing and saying, “No that isn't it” to other plants with three leaves I think the old adage proves as reliable as anything else we've tried. I’ve heard so many 'fool-proof' methods to reduce your own risk to poison ivy, but the most sound I know is to avoid the plant. If you do come in contact with it (accidentally or heroically) wash the affected skin in a brown soap, a.s.a.p. Gardening gloves that have pulled poison ivy should be retired permanently.

While this scourge of the garden has delayed our efforts it has not dampened the enthusiasm with which we move into the next phases of development. Heading into late July and August means minimal planting and less time outside because of the extreme heat. We have been careful to water our new plantings at the times and days allowed by the restrictions and continue to keep our eyes open to signs of drought stress. If we notice leaves of plants drooping, especially during the middle part of the day, its time to water later in the afternoon or the following morning. A few days of wilting for shrubs can become irreversible and such plants may never regain the vigor and robust look we want in our gardens. Normally an underground sprinkler system waters our gardens whether we’re home or away but in these under the drought-restrictions most of these automatic systems cannot be used and time must be allocated to water by hand.

We are finally enjoying the full benefits of a planting project we did last fall. Between two terraced stone walls, we screened the parking area at the top of the property by planted a dozen Arrow Bamboo plants. We choose this variety because of its long, graceful leaves and at a maximum height of about twelve feet it will stay in scale with the surroundings. It also has a relatively slow growth rate so it won't tend to invade the neighborhood. When bamboo begins to grow in springtime it is said to be ‘shooting’. We were so excited about this planting that waiting for these shootings to occur seemed like forever. The first shoots appeared in April and for three months they continued to appear and grow taller. The shoots are now eight feet or more tall and have branched out to the sides filling out the new planting very nicely. As part of the landscape lighting we've installed, we included uplighting of the bamboo from the base of the plants. As the bamboo sways in the wind the lights pick up the shadows that create wonderful movement at night.

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September 2002

The drought has been taking its toll. It's mid-August and plants are dying, the lawn is browning and everything in the garden has gone into survival mode. This part of summer is always tough on plants, though this year seems more devastating due to the water restrictions. Many of our beautiful new shrubs are suffering from a horticultural condition known as 'permanent wilt,' easily recognized by the absence of life in a plant.

Standing in the garden, I keep repeating the same sentence over and over, I'm sure I could have saved them, if only I had watered more, mulched more, told them I loved them.” The death of plants I had hand-selected just months before was weighing heavy. My wife, who tries to understand my reactions, is more pragmatic and quicker to recover. 'I know,' she says brightly, 'let's take a drive and get some new plants to fill in the gaps and add some needed color for the summer.'

'New plants,?' I think to myself. Personally, I'm done with planting for the summer. I'm saddened by the losses and, as my mind drifts, I realize that I’ve moved on to thoughts of the new addition we’re planning for the house and the major changes we’ll need to make to the surrounding landscape.

Conceptualizing major garden changes can be difficult. Being able to communicate design concepts to other people effectively is crucial and even though I can see hypothetical gardens in my head, I need an effective way to share those ideas with people who can't. What works for me is taking pictures from different angles of a site with a digital camera and printing them in black and white. The printouts provide a backdrop on which to sketch my proposed ideas in color at the exact scale relating to each photograph. Each view offers a unique perspective of the site and I often see things through pictures that might have been missed relying solely on eyesight and memory.

As new design possibilities linger I drift back to the garden where my wife, still standing next to me, is looking very determined to get me out of my phytological funk.

'Great idea,' I hear myself saying. 'Let's go.' And we're off to find some vibrant additions to our late summer border. I'm excited by the road trip and hoping we'll end up at one of those old-fashioned places that sells doughnuts too.

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October 2002

Taboo Bamboo?

We have been enjoying the benefits of a bamboo planting we installed near the top of our property between two terraced stone walls. The planting was intended to provide screening from the parked cars and passing traffic. Though it looked a bit unruly when it was first planted last fall the hedge is already beginning to show the fullness we had hoped for. Bamboo is somewhat of a curiosity in this area, yet if you look for it around your neighborhood it will turn up in some unexpected places. I've walked past plantings for years without realizing it. Bamboo's popularity seems to be growing as quickly as the plants themselves and for good reason--it offers solutions to common suburban privacy and screening issues that perhaps no other plant group can match. It also adds tremendous grace and motion to a property.

There are cautions to be observed when deciding to plant bamboo--the invasiveness of the plant being among the most important that come to mind. There are, however, simple measures that can eliminate this concern and keep any bamboo planting contained within its desired location.

I know there are skeptics thinking, ''Bamboo is so invasive, it'll take up my whole property in no time.' Remove that skepticism from your thoughts and listen to the botanical facts that make a planting of bamboo safe for you, your neighbors and our local environment.

Bamboo spreads by underground stems (rhizomes) which grow no deeper than two feet in the ground. By surrounding the plantings with a solid barrier 30 inches deep in the soil, the growth of the plants will be limited to the shape within the barrier. We used a hard plastic product that was flexible enough to form into any shape we wanted. The barrier eliminates the concern about the bamboo spreading rampant, though occasionally a particularly aggressive species might try to 'jump' over the barrier. This can easily be controlled with simple annual pruning.

The variety we planted is called Arrow Bamboo, chosen for its large leaves and relatively low, 12 foot height. Our planting is 30 feet long, with 13 individual plants and, after only one year, each clump has doubled its number of stalks (culms).

In spring we waited for the new bamboo shoots to sprout (known as shooting) with as much anticipation as spotting the first robin and discovering the first daffodils poking through the ground. It was our first experience with a new bamboo planting and we were pretty excited. It wasn't until late April that the growth began and it took almost another month before the culms started branching out with slender light-green leaves. Every day seemed to bring a slight change in the look and the height of the plants. We were happily surprised by a second round of shooting in late summer. These newest culms are now over two feet tall and still growing.

There are many types and colors of bamboo that will thrive in our area. A quick internet search will yield wonderful sources of exotic species. Bamboo varieties grow from a few inches tall to almost 100 feet (remember Crouching Tiger...?). We found and planted a variety that grows in clumps without spreading and we're using it as specimen plantings to block some strategic angles from neighboring properties. The best news seems to be that the deer population is ignoring all the bamboo we planted. We are, however, keeping a look out for panda.

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November 2002

Annual Rituals

This is the end of the first growing season for our gardens and the changes that have occurred since the daffodils appeared in April are remarkable. If you've ever planted a new garden, or tended a plant or two, you know what an amazing feeling it is to observe, after a measured amount of time, the changes from when it first came under your care. Parts of our garden look thick, relaxed and mature -- other parts will require a lot more work before they are 'ready.'

With the morning frosts of October comes the task of cleaning up gardens and preparing for winter. Autumn is also a good time for reflecting on design and plant choices made during the year. We grow as gardeners and designers by observing the results of our work and learn from our triumphs and missteps.

I enjoy the ritual of removing the fading annuals from the gardens, noticing how much they've grown since late spring. How amazing that these full-grown plants began as frail seedlings in our yards less than one year ago. The two-foot tall Impatiens that brightened our walks to the house every day, the broad-leaved Coleus that added iridescent intrigue throughout the gardens and the special 'maple-leaf' Geraniums we bought during a spring trip to the north fork of Long Island. These are some of the plants that will be kept over winter to be re-planted next year.

'Over-wintering' tender plants can turn into a collectible hobby, or even an obsession. Plants saved over successive seasons become sentimental markers of time. For instance, 'we bought this plant the year you were born, young man.' Realizing that my time to care for such plants is limited, I try to decide how many plants might actually survive my efforts of being potted up and 'hibernated' over the winter and I regretfully limit my attempts accordingly.

These 'in-ground' plants are in addition to a collection of perennials and herbs we keep potted during the season that adorn the railing of the deck and top of a stone wall near the patio. These plants also need to be moved indoors for winter. Some are entering their third year with us, not quite long enough for posterity, but a considerable accomplishment nonetheless.

Without enough sunny window space to keep plants thriving indoors for the next six months, I'll be putting the bulk of these plants near a window in a cool part of the basement. I'll prune the plants severely and allow the soil to dry. I'll then keep the soil barely moist during the winter allowing the plant to enter a state of dormancy until the warm weather returns and regular watering awakens them in spring. Some of these plants will not survive. This might be due to the extended drought conditions, lack of light, or my occasional forgetfulness. The effort involved in saving plants from year to year is relatively minor and the worst that can happen is that the plants don't survive and we have to buy new ones the following year. It's funny, the new plants that have spent the winter being pampered in nursery greenhouses look much better than the starving, shriveled-up survivors I proudly schlep back and forth from the garden.

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December 2002

How often do you think about the ‘ground’ around us? Whether covered by grass, stone, concrete or blacktop, terra firma is underneath us all the time. Call it earth, soil, dirt or land, do you ever wonder what, if anything, goes on underneath our feet?

Every shrub or seed you’ve ever planted exposes a minute portion of this hidden world. Chances are good that you've hit a root, found a worm, or certainly dug up a rock or two. All of these 'finds' are part of a world below the soil. I've been digging for 30 years and get a glimpse of it each time I put a shovel to soil. The composition of the soil is slightly different on every property I've ever worked on, thanks to the last glaciers that passed this way. As the giant ice sheets retreated, they left behind varying layers of soil, sand, clay and rocks that form the structure of our soils. On Long Island, where I was first enlisted to plant things, the structure was predictable and my instructions were simple. Dig through the thin layer of topsoil, get through the layer of clay and expose the coveted layer of sand that ensured perfect drainage for the plant’s roots. Nyack doesn't have a sand layer. We have more of a mixed rock and topsoil layer, followed by heavier soil and clay layers. Occasionally, I’ve dug into crumbly sandstone that works as efficiently as the sand of my Long Island roots.

The recent excavation for an addition to our house offered some unusual viewpoints of our property. The underground world seen from the vantage point of 15-feet below ground level was different from what I’d seen in the past. We rented a large excavating machine and began scooping dirt out of what was to be the new section of our house. Enormous Walnut and Apple trees grow close enough to overhang the excavation pit. I had concerns about disturbing their root systems and guided the machine carefully through the upper soil layers.

The roots of even the largest trees penetrated no deeper than two feet into the ground. Roots serve two general purposes; supporting the above ground portion of the tree, enabling it to stand tall, as well as storing and supplying the tree with water and nutrients. Though we dug within 15-feet of the base of these trees, we came in contact with only one root over six inches in diameter and just a handful over two. The ability of these behemoths to stand so tall through wind and rain without more substantial support is awe-inspiring. As the machine clawed deeper into the heavier clay and compacted sub-soils, it became clear why there are no roots in these lower zones in the soil is so dense that nutrients and moisture can't penetrate them.

The dig brought out the archeologist in me. We unearthed signs of past civilizations - old bottles, gardening implements and cookware. Even a washing machine was uncovered. In addition to everything else, I found a decades-old repair receipt from a shoemaker. I called. He said they'd be ready next Tuesday.
(This column is dedicated to my dear friend Richard Rosenblum, who 'fought the good fight.')

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Febuary 2003

To the casual observer, gardening seems like a docile, laid-back pastime. Pot a pansy here, snip a sprig of parsley there. However, for those in the know it is really a high stressed, competitive obsession. Behind the facade of the easy-going, contemplative nature enthusiast, is a life anything but staid or boring. Our years are full of life and death struggles, drama, war games, sex scandals and deceptions.

Granted, much of this stress is self-induced. As if fending off the advancing hordes bent on decimating our vegetable crops and native ornamentals weren't enough, we try to force foreign plants to grow in our environment that lack the fortitude to live here. We take rhododendrons out of their native mountains in China, southern plants that shiver at the very thought of crossing the Mason-Dixon line, and moisture craving plants from their posh existence in the pacific northwest, and expect them all to remain as perfect as the pictures in the catalogs we ordered them from, all the while battling unfamiliar conditions and surroundings in our New York backyards.

Life and death is what gardening is all about. Life cycles are what we study and learn from. Some plants live a hundred years; others will begin and end their lives in less than one. We must choose which plants to favor with inclusion in our gardens each year. Do we go for the showier, immediate gratification of the short-lived annuals with their bursts of long lasting color, only to mourn their early demise, or do we plan for the future and plant hardy shrubs and perennial flowers. Once chosen, individual plants face constant threats to their survival from almost everything that enters the garden, including water, wind, heat, cold, sun, insects, animals and landscapers. Even untethered two-year olds can inflict mortal blows at any time.

Drama is a constant in the garden. We lose sleep wondering and waiting, to see how the growth of each plant affects the look and feel of the garden. Will our ideas of how plants should grow together keep 'working' the way we like them to? Will the branches of the walnut or oak trees growing overhead allow enough light on the rhododendron and azaleas below to keep them robust and floriferous again this year? Will we get enough rain or sun? Will my garden look its best for the party we're planning? These are the tough issues that keep us on the edge of our lawn chairs.

War and sex are frequent companions in the garden. Wasn't The Garden of Eden the original plant battle of the sexes? Skirmishes come from all sides. The aggressors may target any of the many tasty plant parts from around the garden. Insects represent the largest group of insurgents. Their attacks are multilateral and plants are often left defenseless. Air and land attacks are common from birds and the local fauna. Birds eat plants, insects eat plants, animals (even humans) eat plants. It's a vicious cycle that deals the short straw to the plants every time. Do the plants gain any benefit from being at the bottom rung of the food chain? At the right time of year, whenever a plant is alighted or brushed by a bee, bug, ant bird or squirrel, the male and female parts of the plant get to mingle, resulting in fertilization, thus sealing its survival for another season. Pollination is the sexy part of this hobby.

We try to help our plants as much as possible. Attempts at deception for the sake of our gardens are legion. Anti-deer sprays fool the animals into thinking the rose doesn't really smell as sweet. 'Bag-a-bug' traps hang from trees emitting a chemical decoy that diverts the Japanese beetles from their leafy targets. We spread lime, fertilizers and weed controls trying to create the ultimate lawn in an environment so congested with competitors that the battle is lost over and over again each year.

Our pride keeps us going while our determination to succeed fills us with the hope that, maybe this year, we can prevail over the forces that surround, outnumber and outsmart us time and again. Our enemies are many but the joys and rewards of working the soil are greater, as every seasoned gardener surely knows. Sooner or later, though, we reach the point where even our most noble efforts can't beat the odds. That's when we are rightly humbled by remembering, it's not nice to fool Mother Nature.

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March 2003

It's getting closer. My bones can nearly feel the warmth. I can almost taste the spring air. The pounding of winter is still felt but its force is getting weaker with each lengthening day. Looking out my window to the gardens lying fallow under the cover of snow, I pick up my sketchpad and draw, deciding what to do with the gardens this year. The entire season lies before me, endless possibilities and months of greenery stretched out as far as I can imagine. This will be a big year for our gardens. The new addition will be complete and returning the upheaval caused by the construction back into useable and beautiful space will be a major focus for us.

We have been dreaming of this time for a long time. Though the new windows are not yet in and the ground is littered with debris, we can actually visualize the construction's completion and, very soon, the beginning of the garden work.

The brutality of January's temperature plunges will no doubt cause some re-arranging of last year's completed gardens. I can already tell that twenty-plus days of sub-freezing temperatures and the slap of wind chill did its damage to more than a few plants. One particular day's combination of icy, windy conditions took down one of our beloved 'Christmas' trees, a 70' grand fir. It occupied a prominent spot in our backyard and adjusting our sights to fill the void will not be easily done. Surrounding its base are some magnificent old azaleas, probably planted sixty years ago. They framed the trunk of this giant nicely and now are more the show than the chorus. Something will have to be done to soften their presence.

The previous planting and building we've done on this property has been on the periphery--away from any of the construction zones. The anticipation of building allowed us to concentrate on other sections of our half-acre lot while leaving the bulk of the property as we found it. The time has come for us to begin implementing the big plans that will tie the new addition to the existing gardens and topographies.

We are planning to add a brick patio bordered by knee-high stone walls, and steps to match the set we built last year. Our hillside perch offers great views of downtown Nyack and the bridge and any gardens we plan must not block those views. New lawns, a sprinkler system and a vegetable/cutting garden are also must-haves. We have had numerous requests from the local deer herd for more lettuce and zinnias so we'll definitely include them. Once the design process is complete we'll figure out how much each item will cost and how to break down the projects in sections. My wife doesn't know this yet, but the garden construction will be phased in over the next two to three years so we can budget for it. We need to make decisions on what to do first, second, third. Like many large-scale projects, the first phase is often the most expensive. The initial construction lays the groundwork for all that follows. Phase one of major construction includes the stuff that you don't really see; moving soil around to establish grades, installing drainage and electrical work for lighting and water features, as well as other basic elements of a complicated construction plan. Depending on our budget, we will try to build the patios and walls this season as well as grow grass over the bare soil. With these projects completed, we'll feel as though the grounds are at least groomed so we can be comfortable entertaining outdoors all year. With luck we'll get to the steps and do some planting in the fall.

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April 2003

Winter's unwelcome lingering has had its benefits.

We all relate certain sights that signal the transition of seasons and, at the close of this snowy winter, seeing the leaf tips of daffodils poking through the receding snow does it for me. The first spikes of crocus leaves also bring feelings of renewal and hopefulness.

Another benefit of this long wet winter is the end of the oppressive drought we've endured. The reprieve is the most welcome of news because it means we can become gardeners again. While practicing restraint and conservation, we can freely buy and plant, rejoicing in our greenery once again. I don't know about anyone else, but I have grown tired of feeling like a sneak and a scofflaw every time I added a little something to my plot. Now that the drought is history, I'm hoping that the self-appointed 'garden police' will turn their attention to the more important local issues of dog poop and litter.

The beginning of the spring flowering season is a good time to see what your gardens are missing by observing what's blooming in your neighbor's gardens. You could be enjoying the early flowering Winter Aconite, Snowdrops, Crocuses (all of which are bulbs to be planted in the fall--make a note of it now to do in six months) and the early perennial flowering plants like Lenten Rose, dianthus, phlox and primrose (all of which are available now in garden centers).

Whether you're new to gardening or just still learning like the rest of us, spring is the time to start anew. Begin to notice the plants that surround your home and neighborhood. Pay attention to the timing for flowers, notice that each plant will flower about the same time every year. The yellow mass of color from the Forsythias herald the season as boldly as any plant, the early leaves of the willows and oaks paint the horizon in a haze of yellow-green, the earliest purples coming from the PJM Rhododendron and native azaleas. Follow the progression of colors throughout the seasons and notice what you can add to your garden to bring these colors home.

Winter's ebb is also a reminder that we can endure and enjoy life's simple pleasures. Gardeners tend to have an indomitable spirit with the memory and a promise of what will be again. The flowers and leaves will return. This year's version of the cherished smells and textures of our memories is within reach.

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May 2003

The birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees

Fertilization, pollination, progeny (the acorns that don't fall too far from the trees). These are the words that plants sing this month and next. The flowers of May fueled by the showers (and snowflakes!) of April start the reproduction work that will begin a new generation in our gardens.

These words come to mind now, not only because my wife is expecting our first child this summer, but also because as a gardener (or a farmer or nurseryman) the springtime 'setting of flowers' is crucial for the production of whatever it is we are growing. One bad bit of weather can spoil an entire year's harvest. Late season frosts in Florida can wilt unfertilized orange tree flowers reducing the crop. Too much springtime rain in New Jersey can be disastrous for the tomato and cucumber growers. In our backyards the consequences of bad weather aren't so economically tied, but severe weather can certainly tear the petals off tulips or rip the blossoms off the magnolia trees before their due time, lessening the performances we wait all year to see.

As a vegetable gardener, the month of May is when the fun really starts. The day that is considered safe to plant the first tender seedlings in our plots is known as 'frost-free' day which arrives sometime after the middle of the month. If a frost hits the garden late in the month, tender seedlings will be killed and the garden will need to be replanted. There are methods to protect the sprouts, like cold frames and cloches and clear plastic sheeting, but that all seems like a lot of effort in our little gardens. It is not so much knowing what the first frost-free day will be, rather, guessing which of the frosts we've had was actually the last. The idea being that the earlier we get plants in the ground, the sooner we'll be eat ing our own food. The more impertinent among us, with the need to be the first to 'get the tomatoes in,' will plant around the 15th of the month. We of the older & wiser crowd favor Memorial Day weekend for the great event. It is always a safe weather date for the plants and we get an extra day off to rest our bones from the unaccustomed labor.

My time spent in the various vegetable gardens I've tended has rewarded me with tremendous satisfaction and more zucchini than I care to remember. I won't be planting a vegetable garden this year; with the addition to the house completed, all attention and resources will be going into building and restoring the gardens around the house. My attention turns from the old vegetable garden in the back yard, to creating a special garden scene outside the window of the new nursery in the house.

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June 2003

How do you use your garden space? Do you ever dream of what could be? Do you ever hear yourself say, 'If only I had an extra 100 yards or so of top soil, then I could really change things?'

As I stare from the huge piles of excavated soil to the bare post-construction landscape we must rebuild at our house, my mind wonders how we will want to use this new space. Almost anything seems possible at this stage, especially with a few 100 yards of soil waiting to be moved. Trying to decide how to proceed can be overwhelming.

What most of us dream of for our homes, I think, is a relatively level spot to have a decent-sized lawn, perhaps to be able to host a summer party or play a game of catch with the kid(s). Level land is at a premium on our property (as it is in most of our yards). Our land drops about 15 feet as it extends beyond the house. In the first 30 feet of the house, however, the drop is only about three feet, a height within reasonable consideration of being leveled. Only an old apple tree and some large Azaleas are in the way. By my calculations, leveling this space would require about half the soil we have. We would need to transplant the large azaleas to another location and build a significant stone wall 'well' around the apple tree to protect its roots from the raised soil levels. We'd also need a backhoe and a few members of my company's crew for a few days. It seems doable.

I propose my plan to the wife, with all the bells and whistles I could think of to explain my plan and win over her majority vote (things like: parties for her family, playground for the kid, a way to get rid of those huge piles of dirt sitting outside our bedroom window and, yes dear, someone else will cut the grass). We agreed and I set off to do construction drawings to guide my crew.

With sketch in hand, including final elevations, approximate locations for much needed stone retaining walls and an over view of what I want the property to look like when complete, I meet with my excavator to begin the transformation. It's amazing what a backhoe and a few experienced hands can do to a pile of dirt and rocks in just a few days. With our signals clear and an agreement on where to start, I give a good luck wave and sit back to watch the land change shape.

The 'before and after' pictures won't be able to capture the dramatic transformation we will achieve. Two main goals for a successful garden design are creating what the property owners desire and making the finished product look effortless and completely natural. Though we will be raising and lowering the existing topography on this property significantly, by honoring the surrounding landscape and softening the new edges with plantings, we'll keep this major change undetectable by new visitors. People who knew the property before will have a hard time discerning where the changes took place. And future users of this glorious lawn will have no idea that at one time the space they are standing on was actually three feet in the air.

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July 2003

Does anyone want to buy an umbrella?

You know the feeling you get watching a stock reach 20 knowing you could've bought it at two? That's how I feel about having waited all spring to plant gardens instead of setting up an umbrella stand at Broadway and Main back in April. Or, maybe a mushroom farm. It's nearing the end of June and the number of days suitable for planting this spring is easily countable with my fingers. So much for waiting out the drought to do all the planting from last season. It sure seems like we're going to miss spring all together again this year.

I'm writing this very early on a morning in mid-June and realize that I'm not even thinking about seeing a sunrise. We've had a few, I know, but if you're counting, the rainy, foggy mornings are certainly ahead.

So now it's July and too late in the season for us to plant anything major in the garden. The heat of this month and next are too stressful for new plants to begin adapting to their surroundings.

There are two times during the year that we can safely plant in our gardens. The first is in mid-spring and lasts until about the end of June. The other begins around Labor Day and ends near Thanksgiving. The exact time spans vary with the weather, but on average we have five months to get most of our plants in the ground. Excessive rain can reduce this time significantly. Not only because it can be miserable planting things in the rain, but planting in water-soaked soil can cause it to lose its structure and become compacted. Heavy, dense soil does not allow nutrients to survive in it, reducing its ability to support life--meaning that plants growing in it won't do very well.

The structural quality of a particular area of soil can be measured by something known as tilth--the ability of soil to hold nutrients and the ease of its workability. Sand and clay are said to have poor tilth, while topsoil and loam have excellent tilth. The quality of soil can change after certain events. Working in wet soil can compress it, destroying the structure. Adding organic matter to poor soil can improve the structure over time.

How do you measure this attribute in your own soil? Grab and squeeze a fistful of relatively dry dirt from a few places on your property. Work your fingers through the handful. In 'good' soil the individual pieces will compress together then crumble apart. In a heavier, less 'productive' soil, squeezing it together creates something more like clay. Dry, lifeless soil will leave you with crumbly dust in your hand.

Soil with good tilth can sustain an entire ecosystem. Insects, plants, mushrooms, earthworms, etc. If you're up before the sun like me, there is another way to judge your soil: if there is a worm for the early bird to catch you can be pretty sure that the soil the meal is being pulled from is healthy.

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October 2003

Are you a gardener?

Does the smell of earth on your hands make you smile? Do you drag dirt into the house without an apology? Do you daydream about redesigning the layout of your shrub or perennial borders? Is winter more about rest and plant catalogs on their way to your mailbox than anything else? Do you occasionally find leaves in your underwear?

What does it take to consider yourself a gardener? I think the answer lies more in the heart than in the possession or care of cultivated land. Having an affinity for plants and a desire to care for them makes most of us 'spiritual' gardeners, at least. Most of us wear the appellation with pride- along with our dirty knees, perennial cases of poison ivy, bad backs, complaints about whatever the weather happens to be doing that hampers our gardening, and the undeniable pride in showing our gardens to others.

While we might have designed and planted the garden, weeded and dead-headed, most of us still silently credit a source unknown for the wonders that actually take place. As an 'educated' gardener, I have learned the scientific names and explanations for all the processes of a plant's existence. From life to death to compost. I can tell you the Latin name of most plants, and I have a good idea when a plant will bloom and whether it likes to be in the sun or not. But what keeps me excited, amazed and coming back for more every year is the undeniable fact that I have no possible clue how a plant does what it does. How perennials die back to the ground each year and return bigger and better the next year. How huge trees stay in the ground during fierce wind storms and how they bend so nimbly in those winds.. Why a seemingly healthy plant turns brown and dies for no apparent reason.

Our climate fluctuates widely and temperatures vary nearly 100 degrees during the course of a year; Most animals must either seek shelter from these extremes or leave town altogether. Plants, however, are stuck where they are to ride it all out. Through all the affronts to their majesty, they still manage to produce the most delicate of leaves, beautiful flowers, delicious fruits and viable seeds. They offer shelter to birds and bugs and their very existence improves our quality of life. How can one not be inspired to cultivate the ground at their feet?

I have been gardening my entire life. Whether or not I make a living at it, or even have a patch of land to till, I will always think of myself as a gardener first.

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November 2003

How to talk like a gardener.

Every profession or hobby has buzzwords. Terms that insiders know and wannabes just have to know. Words that both define and mystify. Gardening has many of these, and if you're a gardener you create a bit of envy when you use certain words in mixed company. Words like deciduous, biennial, drip-line, or burl.

Pronunciation has a cult-like aura of its own too. Though it doesn’t really matter how you say a name, i.e., clem-atis or cle-matis, from the reaction of some you'd think that saying it the 'wrong' way borders on the boorish.

So, a primer on gardening vernacular you're likely to hear while sipping coffee at the Runcible Spoon or walking the Farmer’s Market.

1. Speaking of plants as if they are people. Gardeners talk about their plants as if they are members of the family. To sound like a gardener, try saying this the next time you’re in a crowd, 'You know, my Agapanthus is so happy since I moved him to the sunny side of the street.' Or, 'My apple tree is really suffering; its feet are constantly wet and I don't think it likes having the birds nest in it.' You’ll come off sounding a bit eccentric, but that kind of passion is a dead giveaway you are a gardener.

2. Deadheading. This used to mean going to concerts and chillin'. In the gardening world, though, it is the term for removing the spent flower blossoms from plants like Rhododendron, Laurel and Andromeda. True gardeners, especially those with lots of time on their hands, are really the only people who still do this because it is so labor intensive. However, being able to tell someone that you spent the morning dead-heading your Rhododendron maximum scores big points.

3. Mulch. Covering the bare earth around plants with shredded bark, seed hulls, etc. The primary gains are to reduce weed growth and increase the moisture retention of soil. Its most obvious trait is the finishing touch added to the aesthetics of a garden. Mulch is not something you actually want to notice, its more of a background element. For some unknown reason, it is now available in most of the colors of the rainbow. True gardeners tend to avoid the 'louder' color choices in favor of natural cedar or root colors.

And finally, 4. Bragging. Gardeners tend to trap people in conversations about their gardens. It is a forced admiration that usually leaves people absently nodding in agreement that, of course, their 'whatever' is certainly the best and biggest they'd ever seen. We all do it. I think it comes from a sense of pride that naturally wants to be shared. The truth is, it really doesn’t matter how big your Dahlias are.

I used to have the same reaction to people showing me pictures of the kids. It was hard to stifle a yawn and conceal my glazed-over eyes. But I'm starting to get it, and I've made room in my wallet for pictures of my son as well as that prize-winning tomato. Live and learn.

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December 2003

December is a good time to study the ‘bones’ of your gardens. With leaves and flowers absent we can see paths, steps and other hardscape features more clearly. Making major changes to the basic structures on our properties takes some courage and a lot of planning. The process is worthy of considerable thought and the coming winter months are perfect for such considerations.

Thinking about these bones of your property as art, in addition to their utilitarian usage, allows us to create structures with more flair, depth and creativity.

The three most important attributes of any structure are 1) does it meet the needs you have for it, 2) is it aesthetically pleasing to you and does it fit in with your goals for the property, and 3) is it physically safe and sound. The importance of each of these will vary depending on the structure in question.

What kind of enjoyment do you have a right to expect from a patio, or a walkway, or even a set of steps, for that matter. These most common of garden structures can make the difference between safe entry to your home or a treacherous tightrope walk, a pleasant summer meal in the garden or a disastrous muddy affair. But beyond the functional, how do these structures in your gardens reflect the property and your use of the land.

When rethinking a structure like a walkway, imagine yourself actually using it to your advantage. Do you park the car and have to cut across the lawn to get to the house? What route does the mailman take, where do visitors park and enter your property? By understanding the ‘life’ paths of your property you can actually design your garden’s bones to suit them instead of constantly fighting them.

Patios can be equally useful and comforting. I like privacy, and always look for the most secluded spot to locate and outdoor sitting area. But seclusion is only one of many key factors in determining the successful placement of a patio. Proximity to the kitchen, access for guests, being able to see (or be hidden from) the kids, and light exposure are all important. Think about which of these are most important to you and decide a location based on your needs.

Steps leading to the house, or bridging a sloped hillside, can be designed to be more than just a means to get somewhere. Widening the tread and extending the length of steps makes a great place to sit-often with a very different vantage point of the property than you’re accustomed to. Building an extended landing in the middle of a course of steps offers a chance for a bench or piece of sculpture, adding to the visual impact the steps have in the property. They become more of a destination than simply a thoroughfare in the garden.

The opportunity presented by the need to rebuild a part of your property, or the desire to add something new, can become an expression of who you are and how you live. Keep in mind that the work you do today will be viewed and enjoyed for many seasons to come. Make the effort to do things with a sense of style.

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January 2004

Getting to the root of it all

Gardeners tend to be thoughtful people. That is, they can spend a lot of time in contemplation without feeling the need to get or give answers too quickly. After all, plants grow slowly and time is measured by seasons not seconds. Most of the issues we deal with as gardeners are on somewhat less than an emergency level. Part of the fun of gardening is the unhurried pace it makes us assume and the skill it fosters in us to be patient.

Of all the patience required of a gardener, the most challenging to me is the job of weeding. I tend to need recognition from others for my efforts and I don’t like to be disappointed by reaction to things I’ve done. Not that getting praise and being noticed is what gardening is all about, but just the same, weeding does not elicit the same praise as, say, bringing home a basket of fresh strawberries. From experience I can tell you that after four hours in the garden you'll get quite a different response if you walk into the house with an armload of fruits and vegetables than you will showing up with only dirty knees and tales of pulling wild garlic. Knowing that my weeding effort will go pretty much unnoticed makes it harder for me to spend the time doing it.

Waiting for seeds to germinate, fern fronds to unfurl, tomatoes or apples to ripen all have purposeful outcomes and are 'worth the wait.' Weeding is extremely important, of course, but after spending an afternoon on your knees pulling errant grass and clover from between your bricks what tangible feat have you really accomplished?

In truth and all seriousness, weeding is one of the most important tasks a gardener can do to maintain the health, beauty and longevity of their gardens. Commonly defined as plants growing where we don’t want them to, weeds tend to be more vigorous and stubborn than the tender ornamental plants we want growing in our gardens. Given half a chance, the ‘bad’ weeds will overpower the ‘good’ plants and destroy the well-planned gardens we work so hard to create.

Well cared-for gardens, whether formal or wild in design, appear vigorous and robust and have a definition to them that is palpable. Weeding, light pruning and regular garden maintenance help to achieve this and doing so instills a sense of pride in your property.

Neighbors to whom your gardens are a part of their daily travels will, sooner or later, return to you an investment on your time by noticing your efforts. When they do, be gracious and restrained in telling them of the joy and pleasure weeding the garden gives back to you, too. It’s okay to fib, no one really believes that anyway.

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March 2004

Let's play Jeopardy! The category is 'Landscape Construction,' and the answer is, 'As little as possible.' The correct question, of course, is, 'What is your budget?'

While this is a typical first response to the question, shopping for gardens really shouldn't start off any differently than shopping for a car. Ask yourself, 'How much are we going to spend on this thing?'

The most challenging part of my work as a landscape designer has nothing to do with selections of trees or stones but rather helping my clients determine how much they ‘have’ to spend to get what they want.

Read that two ways. I don't know how much money they have to, that is, are willing to, spend on their property; that is personal information only they can decide. I can, though, help them decide how much money they have to spend, that is, need to spend, to achieve the results they desire. There is almost never a limit to how much you can spend, but there is always a minimum that has to be spent to get things done.

When considering major changes to your property, answering the budget question realistically can eliminate months of wasted time. Having at least a rough idea of what you have to spend ($5,000 - $7,500, or $40,000 - $50,000., for example) will help your designer or contractor know where best to focus design attention and help you avoid the horrible feeling of having spent a lot of money and not being satisfied with the results.

The biggest obstacle to figuring out how much to spend is probably not knowing what things cost. How can you decide to build a patio with a walkway, new gardens and lighting without knowing what these items will cost. Meeting with a few professionals will give you a better idea of costs. It is my experience that most landscape contractors use similar equations for construction costs. Price variations lie more in the details of design than with the labor to build them. Natural material like stone is pricier than manmade materials such as concrete pavers or brick, sometimes more than double the cost. Large specimen trees will provide instantaneous lushness, but at a premium. Copper light fixtures are incredible additions to the garden but, compared to those made of high-grade aluminum, well, you know.

Frequently, what you want will cost more than what you want to spend (what else is new), and you’re faced with either scaling down your dreams or enacting a multi-year plan of attack.

The key to success with construction is to be realistic (and generous) with your budget and with what you can expect to get for your buck. Of course, doing it all at one time so you can get immediate enjoyment is always an option. Unfortunately the result of that on the budget can make it a true daily double.

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April 2004

When you think of people who call themselves gardeners, do you envision older people tending to their peonies? Or perhaps healthy, vigorous people of any age working a vegetable garden or planting shrubs around their yard? Gardeners elicit such images because gardening is a healthy hobby and people who do it tend be extremely fit and active and remain so for most of their lives. I know a lot of septa- and octogenarians who still tiptoe through their tulips.

Gardening is beneficial to our physical, mental and spiritual health, as well as to the environment around us. The most obvious benefit is in just being outdoors. Fresh air, sunshine, the feeling of soil between our fingers are all positive mood enhancers.

Gardening calls upon diverse muscle groups. Digging holes works the legs and back muscles, raking leaves tones the upper body and is a great aerobic exercise, and picking up leaves is good for the buttocks. According to the American College of Sports Medicine, raking can burn anywhere from 39 to 61 calories per 10 minutes, and gardening can burn 49 to 76 calories per 10 minutes. *

Our breathing process (called respiration), is symbiotic with that of plants (which is called 'transpiration). We breathe oxygen and give off carbon dioxide. Plants take this carbon dioxide and turn it into oxygen. A perfect combination that we get greater benefits from by having more plants around us.

Gardening also improves our mental health. Our brains get a workout every time we decide on a new plant for the garden, or a re-design of a flower bed. Simple acts, such as pruning limbs or staking tomato plants, takes brain power. These activities enrich our knowledge and expand our minds.

Most people garden because it makes them feel good. Observing a garden's development over the course of a few seasons gives a unique perspective and allows us to learn from our experiments. Being in the garden calms us down and provides a grounding effect from our busy lives.

If you plant a vegetable garden or harvest fruit from your own trees, you can be sure of the source and freshness of the foods you get. This is a tremendous health benefit, especially in these times of bland-tasting, scientifically enhanced food found in supermarkets.

Another satisfaction of gardening comes after you've finished the physical work and get to relax and observe your handiwork. The flowers you planted will bring an abundance of songbirds and butterflies to your property. From the vantage point of porch or lounge chair you get to watch these visitors as they flit from flower to flower gathering pollen and nectar for their own well-being.


* American College of Sports Medicine, ACSM's Resource Manual for Guidelines for Exercise Testing and Prescription, 3rd ed. Baltimore: Williams & Wilikins, 1998.

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May 2004

Early morning in mid-May, I'm dreamingly looking out at the gardens from my front door. The lilac blossoms are sweetening the air, rhododendron flowers are billowing onto the lawn. Specimen hosta are stretching their thick, fat leaves across each other, forming a solid surface of differing colors and shapes. Birds chatter to each other from across the property.

The lawn is at its greenest, the new leaves of the maples and oaks are perfect miniatures of the full size they will soon become. My favorite tulips have emerged through the leaves of the myrtle, offering a striking contrast with their scarlet petals against the bluish-purple flowers of the groundcover.

Most of the perennials have at least made their appearance in the beds, letting us know they survived another winter. Some, like the peonies and trillium, are already a major presence. All is grand in the garden this time of year.

In the midst of this splendor, semi-intoxicated by the enveloping sights and smells, something stirs me. With little warning, the chirping of birds is replaced by cries of anguish. The pleasures I felt from imbibing on nature are gone. In their place I am suddenly wide-eyed and staring at my bedroom ceiling through the darkness. My son Richard, it seems, is crying in his crib.

As I make haste towards his room, the reality of my life as a gardener on a wooded hillside in this overcrowded region comes back to me and I realize those gardens were a distant dream. A few minutes later, with dad and son rocking to a lullaby, I remember all too clearly what it means to share the environment with our neighborhood fauna. The reality of chewed rhododendron with no leaves or flower buds, tulips barely able to pop out of the ground before they are chomped and even the stinkiest of repellent cannot save the tempting leaves of hosta from becoming salad.

How can I teach my son about the plants I love and to experience the joys of gardening if we canÕt grow them on our property. The overabundance of deer, rabbits, woodchucks, and raccoons that live in the woods around our house preclude the kind of planting that produces these extraordinary gardens. The list of ÔsafeÕ plants seems to grow smaller each year as more animals fight for dwindling vegetation. It seems like every new house that is built brings another hungry mouth to my property. Repellent sprays work to a degree but who really wants to garden around plants that smell like pickle brine or manure.

Just when I begin to feel sorry for myself I realize Richard has fallen asleep in my arms. As I place him back in his crib, my disquiet turns to contentment as my newest reality takes hold - that he has given me something more precious than plants to tend and infinitely more interesting to watch grow.

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June 2004

It has occurred to me that the personal issues and comments I tend to make generous reference to in this column might be misconstrued as boasting,self-advancement or shameless plugging of local merchants. Nothing could be further from the truth, or my intent.

Developing and tending to a garden is a very personal and meaningful part of my life. Inspiration often comes at the oddest moments and from the strangest places. And, like writing, creativity is cultivated through daily experiences.

It is nearly impossible to be a gardener without adding something of yourself to the beds you till. Plants have stories, they are history in the making. People in our lives become part of our compositions.

My columns are personal because gardening itself is very personal. Time and again I have heard gardeners wax sentimental over a plant in the garden that was given to them by so and so, or was planted to commemorate a particular event in their lives. A visit to someone's lovingly cared-for garden space is truly an insight into their personality and way of life.

Without emotion or personal history, a garden is really just a collection of plants in one place. Unfortunately, not all of us get to spend a lot of time in our gardens. However, having an emotional attachment to a rock or a plant, or eating a tomato you've grown yourself, are the kind of events that allow you to look at your spaces as a part of you, not just part of your property, and hence spend more time there.

How do you start incorporating 'you' into your garden space? Purchase plants that you like. Consider adding garden art, such as fountains, mobiles, sculptures, reflecting spheres, benches, gnomes, pinwheels, etc. Make your garden something that makes you feel good. The goal is to make your space personal by adding objects that mean something to you. Look to magazines and public gardens for inspiration. Catalogs offer dozens of thought-provoking options.

Start collecting things for the outdoors. Bird feeders are a good choice because their shapes and styles are varied and can be extremely whimsical. Plus, birds will alight at your feeders, bringing an array of colors and songs into your property.

So, don't be afraid to name drop when it comes to your gardens. Personality is a good thing and everyone loves a good story. Just the other day my wife, son, parents, brothers and a few distant cousins were sitting on our patio built by my company, drinking some wine from Palmieri's, sitting on chairs from Gene Reed, looking at a fountain from Cat Bamboo, which I couldn't have carried if it wasn't for my training at Advanced Body Fitness. All very inspiring. It was a perfectly personal day.

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July 2004

I needed to build a walkway to my front door. The project started as a simple brick path leading from parking area to front steps. I like brick for the informal, warm feeling it gives a garden. I chose a style of brick that has inherent irregularities of shape and coloring that produces an old-fashioned look - as though the walkway already has a history.

The house is quite a bit lower than the driveway and a casual, pre-design analysis of the site determined that at least a few steps would have to be included. The height distance between top and bottom didn't seem so bad until I began measuring distances and reading the elevations.

My field measurements revealed a five-foot elevation drop, requiring 9 steps in less than 30 feet of walkway. I was hoping to get away with fewer to keep the project as straightforward as possible. Besides being more expensive and time-consuming to build, steps mean more difficulty in navigating the way to the house. In addition, that quantity of steps, even when divided into separate groups, would require railings. In addition, carving out the slope to accommodate the steps would also require retaining walls to keep the soil from washing over them. My simple walkway project quickly turned into a multi-week, full-blown construction effort.

Once I was resigned to spending more time and incurring more expense than originally anticipated, digging for the foundations of construction had begun and materials were already brought on site.

Did I mention the patio? It was decided that as long as we needed walls to contain the steps of the walkway, we might as well extend the width of the walkway to be a small, yet functional, patio. Though one had nothing to do with the other, somehow at the time it all made sense.

In order to level out space for a patio, however, more retaining walls would be required. As the patio idea developed, the design for the walls eventually expanded to include two-foot high sitting walls surrounding the patio. Order more stone and the cost be damned, I was on a roll. After all, I reasoned, having walls to sit on would eliminate the need to buy outdoor furniture. I won't even get in to the light fixtures set in the walls and the additional steps leading from the patio to the backyard that my wife just had to have.

My point with all of this is that design is a constantly evolving process of ideas and observation. Design changes caused by existing environmental conditions can easily turn a simple project into a complicated one. In my case, I created a mountain out of a mole hill but managed to transform a treacherous slope into a classic entry to our home. I just hope we haven't affected the earth's rotation by the re-distribution of all that rock.

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August 2004

Why does it seem that the strongest, healthiest and most prolific plants in our gardens are the ones we really don't want there at all. Our well-planned, well-tended borders are constantly being breached by unwanted inhabitants, each one trying to become the star of our show. Unwanted plants, whether volunteer seedlings of existing ornamentals or 'blown-in-by-the-wind' weeds, can steal the thunder from our gardens, rob nutrients from, and eventually cause the destruction of, the very plants we intend to grow.

Rainy weather seems to make things worse. Weeds will generally grow faster because their root systems are close to the surface and can snatch up available water quickly. The plants are opportunist, producing thousands of seeds that are quick to germinate and tolerant of wider ranging stressful conditions than many of our ornamentals.

Weeds have been described as plants growing where we don't want them to be. In most of our gardens, 'having weeds' means the presence of nut-grass, nettles, wild chrysanthemum, jewelweed, poison ivy or Virginia creeper in your garden beds.

An entirely different kind of weed torments more established gardens. Though it may be hard to imagine having an overabundance of prized ornamentals like bee-balm, daylilies, catmint or Eupatorium, tenders of mature gardens must perform routine thinning and transplanting to keep their borders in check and avoid having smaller, more delicate plants being overtaken. The overbearing nature of these plants can lead to an unwanted takeover of precious square footage in our flower beds.

To those of us just beginning a new planting, such a problem might as troublesome as having, say, too much money. We coddle our small plants in the hope they will become robust, magnificent specimens, and any extra plants they may produce would be a perk of being such good gardeners. Consider though, that a plant spends its entire life cycle trying to secure its own survival. As soon as a plant establishes itself in your garden, it begins the task of reproducing itself Ð without concern for your plans or its neighboring species. They accomplish this using many techniques: producing as many seeds as possible, dividing itself to make new plants, sending roots all over the beds to sprout new plants from, etc.

Not being able to 'see the forest for the trees' is bad, though it seems a more immediate problem if you can't see the flowers for the weeds.

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September 2004

If we're lucky, from time to time, something touches our life that turns into an instant memory. A person, place, an animal, even a plant. Such happenings tend to stay with us and become a part of the rest of our lives. For me, it happens more often with plants than anything else. Most of the time the physical place the memorable plant was first seen also becomes part of the vision. Such sightings are always a nice addition to the database in our brains.

I remember the first time seeing many special plants, while visiting a botanic garden, a nursery, or in the gardens of clients I get to visit throughout the year. Some become instant favorites that I use in designs, others, perhaps from different climates, serve to recall a particular time and place.

One of the first group of plants to join my 'favorite' status were Rhododendrons. My parents were crazy about them, so much so, they were members of the American Rhododendron Society (who knew there even was such an organization?). I became a member around the age of 12. Being exposed to this wide-ranging genus at a young age gave me an appreciation that has flourished and influenced my life for, well, a long time. I remember how amazed I was at my first sighting of a yellow-flowering rhododendron, and also my maiden encounter with the fuzzy, orange underside of the Yakusimanum-variety leaf.

Ginkgo trees came into my consciousness during college Botany courses, where I learned of their ancient lineage and present-day tolerance for pollutants and city life. Their awkward beauty and unique nature struck me immediately and, over the years, the tree and I have become nearly synonymous (I even get mail addressed to Mr. G. biloba).

Other memorable plants include a weeping, variegated Dogwood seen in a garden on the North Fork on Long Island, 'Thunder Clap' Pines at a nursery in Rockland, and an ancient 'oak leaf' Hydrangea on the property I live. My first encounter with a mature clump of Monk's Hood, in full autumn flower, was particularly enjoyable.

Sometimes the plant is less important than the person I'm with while seeing it. I meet some true expert gardeners in my work and I'm awed by the broad knowledge, love, and at times, good-natured contempt they have for their charges. One recent client has probably been a gardener for most of her considerable lifetime, and each visit to her garden yields new sightings for me that seem to have been part of her life forever. It's inspiring. I know I'll remember her long after I've forgotten the Latin names of the plants she showed me.

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October 2004

Major performances of Nature have always worried me. It wasn't until I stopped plowing snow for a living that I could truly relax and enjoy winter's wonderland. Without all the stress associated with moving mass quantities of snow, I could actually sit by the fireplace and enjoy the accumulation. Unfortunately, the summer's equivalent events - thunder and tropical storms, aren't as easily assuaged, and continually raise similar anxieties to those of my plowing days. The randomness and potential devastating force of water runoff from these storms seems to put everyone on alert.

If your experience this summer was anything like mine, you've seen water accumulating in places it shouldn't. Recent rains have deluged our streets and gardens, affecting everything from pavement to perennials. Properly guiding water away from building foundations and off our properties, has become more important than ever.

What are the best approaches to controlling so much unwanted water? What obligations do you have to neighbors and the village in doing so? Answers depend on many factors that are specific to your property. The first step is to determine if the water is coming from neighboring properties, your property, or both. In my experience, the most egregious source of unwanted water usually originates from malfunctioning roof gutter systems.

Unless you have a tennis court, your roof is probably the largest impervious surface on your property. Unlike rain that falls on porous surfaces of lawns and gardens, water landing on a roof becomes a solid sheet of cascading water. This enormous volume of water must be directed away from a house efficiently so as not to get absorbed into the soil around the foundation. You don't necessarily need an expert to determine where your water problem begins. Simple observation of the flow of water around your roof, gutters and the perimeter of your yard during a heavy rain should clearly reveal the source.

Look for the following telltale signs:
1) gutters clogged with leaves, keeping water from flowing smoothly down the leader pipe
2) damaged or rusted gutters causing water to spill over, rather than flow to, the leader pipe
3) disconnected 'elbow' joints connecting the leader pipe to a solid pipe at the base, causing water to free-fall from the top of the house
4) disconnected 'elbow' joints connecting the leader pipe to a solid pipe at the base, causing water to flow out at the foundation
5) no existing solid pipe at the base of the leader, causing the roof water to be deposited at the foundation
6) in addition to these runoff issues, check for water 'passing through' your yard from a neighboring property and see where it ends up

Most of us don't know, or even think about, where water goes after it leaves our property. Neighbors who are affected (and the village) care - and solving the problem must be a shared responsibility. There are legal ramifications of your actions impact others. Most villages prohibit discgarging water onto neighboring properties and sidewalks. Once identified, water problems are relatively easy to correct. Whether your cure is to tighten some screws or install sophisticated drainage trenches, watching it come down like cats and dogs without worry is true peace of mind.

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March 2005

I recently began playing golf. Prior to hitting my first ever tee shot, I openly scoffed at the sport and the artificial environment on which it was played. Any desire I had to play the game must have been buried deep within, but now that I've played more than a few times, my interest level has spiked quickly. Aside from actually playing the game, golf has brought me enjoyment I didn't count on - an appreciation for the golf courses themselves.

Golf courses are designed, manicured and pampered to challenge the needs of golfers. They are also vast expanses of natural beauty and relatively unspoiled woodlands. The dichotomy of the 'natural versus groomed' worlds of a golf course wasn't something I gave much thought to prior to spending time on them. As a landscape designer, I try to mimic the natural environment as much as possible. Golf seemed to be the antithesis of all the design paradigms I held dear.

Golf course turf has long-been envied by homeowners as an example of the ultimate in lawn care, while at the same time, derided by those of us preferring more natural landscapes. I've come to appreciate golf courses as places that offer features for both extremes of the design world.

A well-designed golf course will challenge players, keep their interest and provide beauty throughout the round. Sand traps and water hazards are as important to a course as the natural woodlands they are usually carved out of. A spectacular oak tree left in a fairway not only adds an extra element to the play of a hole, but reminds the golfer that they are navigating their ball through the natural world around them.

Golf courses also offer a decent alternative for the overcrowding all of our communities are suffering from. You might not play the game but living near a golf course is probably more pleasing than if that same parcel of land had a housing development on it.

One reason I've noticed the woodland fringes of a course is, that as a new 'duffer', many of my shots end up in the woods. Mis-hitting a shot in New York frequently results in a game of pinball within the woods. The echo of such a shot is unmistakable. Though embarrassing and frustrating, I can't say I give much thought to damaging the trees I have accidentally put into play. A golf ball doesn't seem an equal match to our massive native trees.

I felt differently though, when, on a recent trip to a desert course I ricocheted a tee shot off an arm of an ancient Saguaro cactus. I felt like a character in a classic cartoon strip, half-expecting a woodpecker to emerge and throw my ball back at me. Hitting the cactus seemed more ecologically and spiritually damaging. I apologized to the majestic plant.

As I improve my game I'm sure I'll have more time to observe the grass in the fairways and comment on that.

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June 2005

The gardens on our property are entering their fourth year and, as with all four-year-olds, there have been some trying times along with truly marvelous moments. We have set out to create a perennial 'property' that will offer various sights and colors throughout the year and yield surprises in unexpected places at any given time.

The succession of spring bulbs has become familiar to us and we've grown expectant of the snowdrops through daffodils. We anticipate the early flowering redbud tree, followed and slightly overlapped, by the apples, dogwoods and shadblow. The appearance of the unjustly-maligned forsythia offers us hope that the grand progression of flowering is about to begin. If our gardens were a symphony, this first movement, Largo, would be completed by the emergence of the first perennials and flowering ground covers. The second, Allegro, opens quickly with the swelling of leaf buds of the native trees and mass flowering of shrubs.

We were given a head start from the plantings done by the property's original owner. He planted some wonderful trees during the 40-plus years he lived here. We've been told by longtime residents that the towering evergreens watching over the property were actually Christmas trees he re-planted after each holiday. Always a story worth telling.

The showiest of his ornamentals, a giant pastel-colored Azalea, was in full bloom in early May. It was our first glimpse of the property when the house was originally for sale and the main reason why we bought it - without even stepping inside. To this day, I have never seen another specimen of its size. We, along with our neighbors, enjoy a month-long show that rivals any fireworks display.

Also with the start of the season, our son's 'toddling' has moved outside and has extended his trail of toys and 'tools' across the lawn and gardens. At this point, it's still a novelty for me to come down the driveway and have to swerve to avoid his wheelbarrow, rake and shovel. It reminds me of my childhood and my father's seemingly constant prodding to pick up after myself. I never really got why I should bother putting things away if I was just going to play with them the next day. Now it all makes sense.

I can't help thinking that somewhere inside, my father feels the circle has been completed when he comes to visit and sees his grandson's toys or playthings dotted about our lawn. I'm sure picking up after our son will be another perennial - and much welcomed - activity on our property.

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February 2006

THE LIFETIME GARDEN by Jon Feldman

Inspiration is essential for the creative mind. Whatever avenue your creativity travels along, constant interpretation of what is seen, read or heard increases the chances of cultivating new ideas. The challenge for all creative thought is a constant supply of nourishment.

Creative catalysts for gardeners, and garden designers in particular, during the 'green' months of our year are everywhere. We need look no further than our own neighborhoods for ideas to draw from.

How, though, can we keep those juices flowing and imaginations strong during winter, when there may be snow on the ground with nary a flower in sight? Where can we find the fuel for our desires?

For gardeners, winter is a time of dreaming and planning. Our mailboxes will soon be stuffed with tantalizing pictures of perfect specimens in mail order plant catalogs. This is the closest-to-home way to find off-season inspiration and temptation for the gardening mind. New plant varieties in outrageous colors will be featured, along with new tool innovations touting easier-than-ever garden toiling. Reading by the comfort of a warm fireplace, imagine yourself effortlessly cultivating a vegetable garden or weeding perennial beds with greater joy than ever before.

Other ways to bolster the gardening bug this winter are quite convenient as well. I recently spent a day at the New York Botanical Garden. There's nothing quite like bracing against the cold wind on your way into the main greenhouse Conservatory, to have your glasses instantly fog up in the balmy rooms, full of tree ferns and flowering tropical plants. Simply breathing this 'green air' is enough to stir the soul of a gardener.

Walking the Garden's grounds in winter is also inspirational. Perhaps the most interesting part of a garden's design is the composition of its basic structure of elements. Without leaves and flowers obscuring the view, this relationship between soil, rock and plants is revealed to us. Clearly seen in winter's light, this 'still-life' arrangement of the hardscape is invaluable for our own inspiration.

Flower shows, in abundance this month as well as trips to local nurseries. are always good for remembering and getting back into the swing of things. And, don't forget all the television shows devoted to gardening renovation and rejuvenation. Though sometimes the shows seem best suited for showing us what we don't like, I've taken away useful and innovative ideas while viewing them.

It's all about surviving until Spring, isn't it? Getting through the snow and cold until, finally, crocus appear out of nowhere, tree buds swell and the air starts to feel warm and thick again. I can almost hear the lawn mowers and leaf blowers now...

Jon Feldman owns G. biloba Garden Environments. Reach him at 353-3448.

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April 2006

THE LIFETIME GARDEN by Jon Feldman

What marks the arrival of Spring for you? Is it one thing in particular, like the classic sighting of the first robin? Or seeing bags of grass seed stacked outside the hardware store? Or maybe, like me, it is simply something in the air. For those of us who garden in the Northeast, our personal Rites of Spring are usually tied to events happening in our own backyards.

Gardening has become a national pastime of huge proportions. And, partly because we have become a nation of gardeners, Spring is perhaps the longest-awaited time of the year. It seems that no matter how closely we watch for the signs, the annual rebirth of plants begins long before we realize it--bulbs and perennials popping through the ground, tree buds swelling in readiness to leaf, a hint of color on the Forsythias and a sudden awareness that the remnant debris of Winter on our property needs to be dealt with.

Of course, it isn't just plants that point the way to Spring. Starting in early March, young turkeys descend on our lawn, the goldfinches flying around our birdfeeders turn yellow again and swarms of tiny insects appear out of nowhere, buzzing by for brief moments, only to be gone with the wind. The neighborhood cats overcome their cold weather phobias to, once again, maraud the birds that were fortunate enough to survive the harshness of winter.

Spring is also the beginning of that other national pastime, baseball. Opening day is another of the most-anticipated events in our country. We follow the teams and players for weeks beforehand, watching them stretch, run and throw, working out the kinks in their bodies and games.

Unfortunately, gardeners don't get a Spring Training to ease them into the season. Our opening days count, and are typically followed by stints on the disabled list with calluses, sore muscles and pulled backs.

These two national obsessions are similar in many ways. Like baseball players, gardeners get to work outside and roll around on the grass and we don't work in the rain. Our seasons last only during warm weather, and, like baseball teams, gardeners will travel during the season to other gardens near and far. We even trade plants between gardens--sometimes scandalously in mid-season.

I love visiting other gardener's gardens. I learn a lot when I'm listening to someone describe the thought processes behind their creations. I enjoy having people walk through my gardens, too, but as much as I enjoy visiting new gardens, being surrounded by my own plants, rocks and thoughts definitely qualifies as my own home field advantage.

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May 2006

THE LIFETIME GARDEN by Jon Feldman

Have you looked up lately?

Have you seen the latest and largest scar in South Nyack's recent memory?

No? Well, next time you're driving anywhere east of the Thruway or thereabouts, cast an eye towards the hillside above 9W. Be warned. The orange construction fence you'll see is not a new installation by the environmental artist, Christo.

The fencing marks the destruction of a large tract of woodland and the installation of roads and utilities for a multi-home sub-division -- River Ridge Estates. While we've known about it for years, the reality of it stings. Our local fox, bird, deer, and other animal populations have been fleeing as fast as the giant trees have been falling.

As newly-staked property corners define even more visible building lots, I've become painfully aware how much living I do through these disappearing woods. Watching the monstrous Oaks sway in the winds, the constant movement of birds and surprise appearances of wild turkeys were our own nature documentary since moving here five years ago.

I've heard it said, 'progress' marches on and destruction of our natural resources is inevitable where suburban sprawl spreads. Hearing and seeing it happen firsthand, however, has caused emotional and physical distress.

A magnificent oak tree in which I showed my son his first hawk, and from which the raptor surveys his domain, has been spray-painted with a scarlet 'X', sealing its fate for destruction. The tree's bad luck in germinating on that spot, probably 60 years ago, was to be located in a future cul-de-sac to be known as 'Willow Court'. Don't you just love the practice of cutting down trees then naming roads after them.

An official of the project proudly told me one day that they found a Bald Eagle's nest in the woods. I've never seen the eagle and now that its habitat has been leveled, I never will. The irony of that was lost on him.

Board members and residents didwhat they could to forestall this project, even beating down previous development attempts. But here it is, over a dozen new houses, built amid massive retaining walls. The sights and rumblings of the New York State Thruway are now at my doorstep. One wonders if the new inhabitants of this former woodland will be able to open their windows or enjoy a conversation outdoors with the constant humming, howling and screaming of the trucks and cars below.

This is one lesson I've learned from all of this. All 'green' space needs our diligent protection. My advice is to get involved in any group that challenges development in our area, if for no other reason than to educate yourself about what is being proposed.

Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone, and here in South Nyack, they've paved paradise and put up a subdivision.

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July 2006

THE LIFETIME GARDEN by Jon Feldman

Oh, Deer

I am a recovering 'groundhog-aholic.' Many years ago, I tended a half-acre vegetable garden, in which I grew an array of crops organically. What I would lose to insects and disease was factored in as part of growing without pesticides. I even reasoned that a few lettuce leaves lost to rabbits would be acceptable.

I soon discovered the neighborhood fauna anticipated each new ripening crop as much as I did. I was quickly embattled with rabbits, raccoons, birds and deer for my crops. The most voracious and dastardly of the lot were groundhogs. One-hundred foot long rows of dangling delights became a 24-hour buffet. The constant tug of war came to a head the morning I discovered my prized Brussels Sprouts chewed to the nub--one day before I planned to harvest them. Today, though it has been 12 years since I've faced the groundhogs as foes, I still get the urge to swerve towards the critters in retribution, when I'mdriving along the county roads.

My gardening struggle with hungry fauna continues to cause me grief, though these days I'm more into ornamentals than edibles. And small groundhogs have been replaced by big deer as my horticultural enemy number one. If you've ever planted hosta, rhododendron, or other delectables, you've no doubt experienced the heartache of half-eaten plants in your garden. It can be maddening.

The ghoulish list of semi-successful deterrents I've tried includes dried blood, bone meal, human hair, pickle brine, cloves and cinnamon. My favorite 'sure-fire' product was the fox urine. Fox urine! That's what gardening is all about, isn't it.

I was just about to give up gardening and become a dentist, when I read about the latest technology designed to thwart the deer. Soundwaves. Nearly guaranteed to work, the advertisements boast. Harmless to humans and pets, it claimed. Intrigued, hopeful and not just a little skeptical, I met with the company and decided to have the system installed. Though it costs substantially more than a case of the 'spray du jour,' if it works, the investment will pale in comparison with the thousands of dollars I've spent feeding the neighborhood menagerie thus far.

So far, a month in, knock on wood and cross your fingers, I've seen nary a hoof print. I am cautiously relaxed--though still sleeping with one eye open. My hostas are in full leaf and the bee balm is about to flower. Last year, neither of these plants was around for the 4th of July fireworks.

I don't think I'll attain total Nirvana until I witness Hostas dying back of natural causes in November, but it is a start.

Who knows, next year I might get back into planting vegetables and berries. I'll put up a scarecrow for the birds, and set one of its arms in a Bronx Cheer to the thwarted onlooking marauders.

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April 2007

Lifetime Gardener by Jon Feldman

During the last century, the property I live on was surrounded by majestic oak, maple and tulip trees. Grape vines, nut trees and berry bushes flourished. Natural watering holes, created by underground springs, popped up here and there. All of which supported an abundance of wildlife in an idyllic setting barely a mile from Nyack’s business district.

The house had spectacular seasonal views of the river. From the Petersen’s Boatyard to the Piermont pier, we could watch the winter ice flow and lunar reflections stretching from shore to shore. The springtime renewal of leaves wrapped the property in a cozy, green curtain with just the right number of peep holes to remind us of the river’s presence.

Since the turn of this century, however, changes to the hillside have been swift and dramatic. The long-embattled woods were given a death-knoll a few years ago when developers outlasted the Village of South Nyack in the battle for its control. Building lots have been cleared, sewer, water and gas lines installed. Only the buyers need arrive.

The seclusion my neighbors and I relished has given way to intrusion. A road now borders my property, and all but a symbolic handful of trees are gone. Those remaining, I fear, will not survive the end of this decade, certain to be victims of the bruising compaction and grade changes their root systems have endured as a result of development.

We now face a challenge to ‘re-forest’ our property borders. To restore the privacy and encourage the return of local wildlife. We have an opportunity to recreate an environment suitable to our needs and those of the displaced animals. We’re asking ourselves how this would best be accomplished?

We each have our own visions and ideas, and all with a unified goal. We’re exchanging plant lists, trying to find suitable species in which to create this new world. We want some height to block the new houses and dense thickets to shield the views of the highways and new roads we look at. We’d also like some interesting focal points for winter interest. Our feathered and four-legged friends need shelter, food to eat, safe places in which to keep lookout for predators while raising their families.

The species choices are as endless as are the criteria for choosing them. Native or naturalized shrubs and trees are favored. These will grow the quickest and most trouble-free and accomplish what we’re after, a diversified planting that, in 5 years or so, will look like an old, undisturbed woodland plot.

As with all such large-scale projects, time will be the judge of our efforts to re-naturalize parts of our hillside. I do need quick screening from the cars turning around the cul-de-sac below living room, but I’ll choose my plant list carefully, because, though I hate to admit it, I like my new unobstructed view of the Nyack’s New Year’s Eve fireworks.

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March 2008

by Jon Feldman

Every Spring for the past 25-plus years, the office phone at my garden design/build firm rings with hopeful voices interested in changing the outdoors of their home. Many of the callers describe large projects that would dramatically change the look of their property. Others call with more modest wishes for simple start to long-term plans of transformation. Regardless of the project’s scope, each is intended to increase the enjoyment and usefulness of their home.

Typically, and nearly unanimously, these clients need guidance to progress from the germination of the idea that pushed them to call, to a point where the project becomes a workable design and successful installation. It is a daunting task to interpret a magazine photograph that tickles your fancy, into a garden that suits your property, taste and lifestyle – and is not something many have the time or inclination to pursue.

Have you ever asked for something at an auto parts or hardware store, only to be asked, “What do you need it for?” That question always put me off-balance, as if I had been challenged to prove I knew what I was doing before they would let me buy it. I didn’t realize at the time they were merely offering professional advice on something I most likely knew little about. And, it wasn’t until I knew enough about ‘something’ to offer advice that I appreciated how their help could have made things easier.

I use a caterer to help me pick a menu that will work for a party. A stereo guy helps guide my purchase of a sound system, and, a 12 year-old at the computer store explains my iPod to me. Consulting an industry professional reduces the learning curve significantly. From experience, I know enlisting professional advice early in a decision-making process provides a ‘short-course’ in understanding possibilities and limitations of project goals. In addition to a providing a good footing, such advice and counsel can help avoid losing control during the project.

Taking on home improvement projects should be an exciting experience to be enjoyed with as little stress as possible. Most larger projects are ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ endeavors with a lot at stake. Your odds of higher quality results dramatically improve when you are an active, informed part of the process. Do your research, ask questions. And, remember, when you ask, “How much will it cost?,” the correct answer is not “How much ya’ got?”

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May 2008

Lifetime Gardener by Jon Feldman

Perhaps it all started with Mother Nature. Or maybe Mother Earth. The moon and stars may have been created somewhere in the distant cosmos, but lives on Earth are birthed and nurtured by ‘moms’. Historical records show that adoration of mothers has been a constant since the earliest of civilizations…even before Hallmark.

Celebrations of our mothers frequently involve rituals that become significant family traditions. My family of gardeners usually express our affections through gifts of favorite or unusual plants for mom’s garden. My parent’s current garden space is modest and, in order for our gifts to make it into their cherished permanent collection, strategically we’ve got to think ‘small’. In certain years, without a sure-fire winner, my offering shifted to a basket of annuals, thereby safely avoiding any stress associated with the possible rejection of long-term status.

Though my mother eschews the formality and commercialism of the holiday, it certainly makes her happy on the day to be treated extra-specially by her sons and daughters-in-law.

Since having a child, finding my mom’s plant spawned ‘our’ first Mother’s Day tradition. My wife loves to create seasonal displays of potted annuals for the deck on our house, and always relied on me to bring home a lively assortment of plants for her to use. But, even though I spend a portion of each week prowling garden centers for clients, I never seemed to remember to get the plants she needed.

Understanding that my memory was not going to get better, or her patience longer, I realized it was time to get her involved in the process and make it an annual family pilgrimage. With kid in tow, we now get to the garden center early in the season and our timeliness is rewarded with a wide selection of spectacular plants. The excursion became extra meaningful when we realized it could be combined with the buying of plants for our own moms. Ingenious. And gas saving, too.

We’ve tried different garden centers over the years, but always seem to end up at the same one, unconsciously guarding a tradition. Maybe it’s the way the plants are arranged on their benches, or the wide selection of herbs that unleash their rich scents as we brush past them. Or, it might be an assurance that we will find what we need. More probably, though, it is the perennial desire to smell the still-hot doughnuts being cooked in back room.

Coming up with new ideas isn’t always easy, especially if the choice isn’t apparent. Doing so requires imagination and perseverance. Striving for originality each year is challenging – but worth the extra thought, because when the day is done and love fills the air, my wife, son and I rejoice in knowing that we were, Mothers of Invention.

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July 2008

by Jon Feldman

I began writing “The Lifetime Gardener,” in The Nyack Villager, six years ago, after moving to a house in South Nyack. My early columns dealt with the design and planning phases of the gardens and structures I wanted to be installed. The columns have continued over the years with updates and specific problems I’ve encountered while developing the property. My early plantings were mostly experimental, with lots of failures that culled my choices, and fine-tuned the species lists that now form the majority of my maturing gardens.

This year, all of a sudden it seems, the gardens have come into their own, looking, feeling and smelling almost like one of ‘Martha’s’. The plants have come alive, popping with the color and vibrancy I’d been waiting six season’s to enjoy. They are stunning.

Each week since early spring, flowers from different plant species have exploded and captured my attention. When one burst finishes, my eyes are drawn somewhere else on the property for yet another breath-taking show. Usually more than one type of plant is blooming every day. The profusion of blooms make me feel as though I’m living through a season-long fireworks display. Each round bring something different and unexpected. Rocketing shoots of bright whites, followed by quick bursts of red, yellow, purple and green.

The gardens, like the fireworks, create an ‘organized chaos’ that cannot be easily explained. I’m sure some of us can technically answer the question of how the incendiaries do what they do, and as a Botanist, I can explain the flowering cycles of ornamental plants. But, does anyone really want the know-how’s? For me, the mystery of it all is what creates the ageless intrigue and wonderment of both events.

This is a banner year for plants all around our town, not just my property. Flowers are more robust and numerous. Flowering times are occurring in rapid succession, leaving few gaps in our well-planned schedules of month-to-month planting schemes.

This year, on Independence Day, I’ll see Nyack’s massive fireworks from my window perch overlooking Memorial Park. Fireworks definitely get more attention and draw bigger crowds than my little slice of heaven, but I for one, prefer the wafting scent of lilac and roses through my house to the sulfur, gun powder-like odor that permeates the air in the name of Freedom. Boom!

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September 2008

by Jon Feldman

I can’t think of a more difficult or challenging occupation than mine, landscape construction. You may scoff at such bravado, perhaps rightly so. But, as I toiled in the July heat alongside my construction team, I found myself daydreaming, trying to think of any other profession that came close to the rigors necessary to do our work. It somehow comforted me, in my heat-induced altered state, that no other profession seemed to face the stress and dangers my peers and I confront every working day. Some might say the responsibilities of, say, the medical profession, far outweigh my own, but I’m not convinced.

Let’s examine the two, side-by-side .

How many doctors work outside of an office or hospital, subjecting themselves to the extremes of temperature, precipitation and insects? I couldn’t think of any, either. Yet, landscapers face these challenges every day.

Surgeons perform their work in sterile, well lit environments, with high tech equipment, and many assistants to support their efforts. By comparison, the crude and rudimentary tools available to a landscaper for pruning - our version of surgery - makes the job far more challenging and dangerous. We’re often on ladders, using gas-powered, smoke-belching machines, mere inches away from potential injury. Successful endeavors by a landscaper, therefore, seems a tad more elusive, especially so when their subjects are swaying in a breeze. Doctors deal with blood every day, and I know plants don’t bleed…but landscapers do.

From mid-February until after July 4th, it seems everybody is having a party, and need a project completed in time for their event. If one landscape company is too busy, another will be called with barely a second thought. And, if a company doesn’t start the project on time, everyone is quite upset, and rightly so. Compare that to waiting 2 months for an appointment with a medical specialist. Most of us see that as totally reasonable, and would not even consider going to another doctor who could see us sooner. Once in the office, even when we get there on time, we expect to wait further, without batting an eye.

The most unpleasant aspect of either profession is the loss of a patient, or plant. There is no humor in either case, but I know that no one would hire a landscape contractor without a guarantee against failure. It would stretch this comparison well into the realm of poor taste to expect similar medical assurances, but, as long as we’re on the subject…

Of course these comparisons are silly and ridiculous. Only talented, dedicated MDs can ease pain, give hope and cure our ills. When this gets published, the most immediate skills I’ll need from a doctor is their ability to remove the ‘foot from my mouth’ and the ‘tongue that has been firmly wedged into my cheek’.

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February 2009

Sometimes the ‘green’ movement makes me see red by Jon Feldman

Through the decades, before the current ‘green’ appellation was crowned, I, and fellow ‘respecters of the earth’, had variously been called tree-huggers, ecologists, naturalists, back-to-landers, environmentalists, anti-business radicals, lunatic fringe granola-eating liberals, etc. The bent of the epithet depended on whether or not the opinion was voiced by a friend or foe of the movement to protect our natural resources.

John Muir, Rachel Carson, Al Gore, and others, shed light on environmental concerns of their time and championed awareness and warnings of man’s worsening influence on the earth’s environment. Over the years, most of their ideas have been proven, or generally accepted, as fact. But in their day, these pioneers were mocked and written off as extremist by powerful and vocal government and business interests in our country. The loudest and most puerile of them were those that had the most to lose if environmental issues came to the fore…primarily Big Industrials. My problem with our new ‘Green’ push begins with them.

It's probably just paranoia, but the corporate presence in the greening of the world seems out of place and commercialized. Aren’t they a significant reason we’re in this trouble in the first place? I think its clever that BP, Exxon, et. al., spend millions of dollars on advertising telling us how committed they are to an environmentally safer and healthier earth. But, I can’t bring myself to believe their intentions are altruistic rather than opportunistic?

I find it off-putting, even insulting that those who were always the ‘enemy’ of the defenders of the earth, are now touting how much good they’re doing to save the earth from ourselves.

I remember when Big Agra took over space in the supermarket produce department, with their showcased organic fruits and vegetables mummy-wrapped in plastic and styrofoam. It seemed invasive and dirty. As a former organic vegetable grower, I’m aware of the strict requirements to use the term ‘organic’ with a crop, I can’t help thinking these mega-corps were able to twist the legal definition of ‘orgainic’ to better fit into their mass production methods. Is it possible to be ‘less organic’? It was a sign that Dole, et .al., were moving in and would surely knock the dedicated local growers out of the market.

We love a green lawns, spotless apples, and perfect roses. Its clear that our planet can’t afford these luxuries the way they are achieved today. If we strive for significant ‘green-ness’, we need to adjust our levels of tolerance for imperfections in the world around us and discover alternative ways to give us what we want without inducing further harm.

Start simply, and locally. Ask questions of those servicing your house and gardens about safer products. Until widespread changes in chemical products used in and around our homes become less toxic, you can be sure that the grass that’s always greener, isn’t.

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April 2009

The Rights of Spring

Economy be damned. It’s spring, and there are projects I want to do outside my house.

In past years, my landscaping wish list has been fairly aggressive. Cautiously stepping back this year, however, I’ve downsized my wants. I know my wife has pared her list as well. Each spring we compare projects and decide which we’ll attempt. Like everyone, we want more than we can afford, even in the best of times. This year will be especially challenging. Though our shared goal is increasing our enjoyment of the property, secretly, my goal is to win as many of mine as possible.

To accomplish this, I’d need guidance and inspiration from the ’pros.’ My search for a source immediately took me to the US Defense Department. For as long as I could remember, they always could count on bipartisan support for almost anything. If they could routinely muscle their way to such high percentages of wins, I reasoned that it had to be in the way they asked for it. Knowing the military’s penchant for extreme terminology, it made sense to present my list using their vernacular. I’d surely score a higher percentage of results as well.

Such an approach creates severe personal conflict. Reconciling an innate desire to create gardens in harmony with nature, against a militaristic approach, strains my humanistic sensibility. I’m more comfortable waxing poetic than promoting a defensive strategy against ever-growing threats from outside agitators: namely weeds and local fauna.

For example, the top of my list – or Job One as the Pentagon would intone– would be Homeland Security. In our case, to bolster the borders and keep a close watch on the well-worn points of entry by deer and other critters that terrorize the gardens. Our expensive sound-frequency units do little. Perimeter marking with coyote urine, bone dust or olfactory-offending spray products only do so much. And in battle, ‘only so much’ can translate into fatal breaches of security for my succulent plants. Without more ground support, our existing efforts are wasted. I need trenches, scare crows, electric fencing, alarms. Maybe even a dog (which would put my son solidly in my camp).

The rest of my list is similarly skewed. I almost scare myself.

Once I can declare Mission Accomplished on this front, I can begin to defend against what I’m sure will be my wife’s primary objective: the perennial request of appropriations to install a pool within our compound. Thus far, I’ve thwarted her attempts diplomatically, though I do feel my advantage slipping with each new year’s summit meeting. Losing control of this issue, I fear, will push me to mount an uncharacteristic pre-emptive strike. “Only if provoked” is my creed, but these are serious times and I must be prepared. This ‘Plan B’ would entail erecting a sanctuary of extreme political correctness, located on the only coordinates in which a pool could be targeted. I would construct a raised bed, compost-rich, worm-filled organic vegetable garden that would, I’m sure, remain a safe zone from all but the most hardened of opponents.

Our negotiations are always peaceful, with no antagonism or un-statesmanlike behavior. No room in the process for selfishness or special interests. I’ve made it clear that I won’t tolerate pork barrel spending or ear marks - especially those the deer might inflict on the corn in the veggie patch.

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May 2009

In recent memory, can you think of something beneficial you’ve done for the environment? Even something simple, like using products with earth-friendly chemicals, driving less or picking up litter.

Do you Recycle?

I try.
I truly do. But…
I get complacent and confused.

This in one bin, that in another. Tie these up, leave those loose. I never seem to get the pick-up date right. I do know its every other Thursday, but I never know which one is the other Thursday.

I’ve lived the mantra of ‘Reduce, Reuse, Recycle’ my entire life. My personal recycling reticence creates an impediment to my identity. After all, my supermarket visits usually include reusable bags. I turn off lights in a room even before I leave it. I feel conspicuous using paper towels rather than cloth and cringe when choosing plastic over paper. Worst, is the guilt felt when buying a plastic toy instead of searching out a similar wooden one. And, when those toys require batteries, I am moved to downright self-loathing when making the choice of disposables over re-chargeables. I know better, but sometimes I get paralyzed by indifference.

I was getting concerned that this behavior wasn’t simply a ‘slip’, but that I’d strayed. Could I have stopped caring about the Earth?

But recently, and just when I was ready to recycle the mirrors in the house in order to avoid having to face myself, I was moved by the energy and environmental call to action championed by our new President. His focus on the ‘economics of ecology’ re-awakened my spirit and re-ignited my commitment towards more responsible consuming and disposing. My self-esteem, and mirrors, were saved.

The transformation was quick and enthusiast. I’ve re-acquainted myself with my garbage. I have challenged my trash. My bins have made it to the curb more regularly and I include a greater percentage of eligible materials than ever before.

The best part is, I’ve managed to ease up on myself, forgiving my past failings to applaud the acts of humanism that are returning faster than the advancing Spring.

Further inspired, and after threatening to do so for years, I’ll re-activate my composting pile this summer.

Seriously.

Composting isn’t hard, or smelly, or gross. Removing your non-meat food scraps from the kitchen pail will significantly reduce your personal landfill footprint.

I credit Mr. Obama’s initiatives for my reprieve as another small, but noteworthy, achievement of his remarkable agenda for the first 100 days.

Following in this new and exciting spirit of nationalism, I will gladly provide information to anyone interested in starting a compost space. Who knows, you could become an environmental hero without having to leave your home.

Email me, just don’t ask me to bring your bottles and newspapers to the curb.

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January 2010

Won’t somebody please buy that house? It’s been years, now, and I fear the worst.

It’s eight years since the bulldozers changed our neighborhood communal woods into real estate by clearing the land for roads and building lots. The solitary structure, a model home, was finished before my first-grader was born.

These days, the house sits mostly ignored and the planned neighborhood has seemingly been abandoned. I would imagine the developer is under significant financial pressure as the upkeep on the property has become lax. I can’t blame them, but as a neighbor, I’m concerned about the deterioration of the site and the undesirable crowd that has inevitably been drawn there. I’m sure this scenario is repeated all over our area with builders similarly stretched and neighbors similarly concerned.

Like the decline of a great city, this ‘ghost house’ might witness its roads give way to weeds and animals invade its sovereignty. Trees left standing after the initial invasion were, in reality, left to die a slower death. They are now brittle leviathans breaking apart, ever-so closer to toppling to the pavement with each successive storm. The sound of feeding woodpeckers can be deafening.

The scene on the cul-de-sac outside my window has become disconcerting. Since the house’s fall from favor, it has already been discovered by dog walkers, romancers and littering. The police have made it a regular part of their patrols which, when they encounter visitors, add to the drama of it all. My infrequent patrols have revealed what could be the equivalent aftermath of a party catered with fast food, speed drinks and cigarettes.

I want that house sold.

I firmly believe that the earth abides, and given the opportunity, will reclaim its natural order. Unfortunately, I won’t benefit from that near-evolutionary-paced time frame. My concerns are immediate and heightened now that coyotes have become resident vagrants and mosquitoes have pool-side breeding parties on a generational basis.

I’m staying calm for the moment hoping an improved housing market will brighten the prospects. I’ve warned the developer, however, that when I start to see tumbleweeds blowing across the road, I’m calling the sheriff.

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February 2010

I love watching trees. Especially so in winter, after deciduous species have dropped their leaves. Oak, maple, beech and locust, to name some of my favorites, exhibit unique trunk and branching structures that clearly identify them to an observer equipped with merely a field guide and the simplest of detective skills.

These gorgeous beings stand stoic against winter’s omnipotence. Aside from occasional branch-rubbing groans in the wind, they seem impervious to the weather.

Oaks tower above the ground with a main trunk reaching skyward, splitting into side limbs frequently larger than most trees growing around them. Maples look like a ‘typical’ tree – the generic kind you would draw by instinct. The light grey bark of the beech distinguishes it from all others. Its elephant-like ripples are unmistakable and a particularly special attraction.

Another all-time favorite, the shag-bark hickory, is also set apart by its bark. The large peeling plates seem ready to shed without warning, showering shards of wood upon the forest floor.

Evergreen trees get a featured role this season as well. Without the distractions of leafy neighbors, their structures and stature become much more prominent. Their bulk provides the skyline a scale that puts all into perspective.

Some species of trees can reach a hundred feet or more, though most of our locals are lucky to reach 60 before succumbing to natural or human-related causes. The endurance of the eldest capture most of our attention. The surrounding lesser trees can frequently be their progeny, perhaps representing the next generation of giants.

Mine has been a life-long love affair, yet, because of the non-verbal, immobile nature of the focus of my affection, these feelings remain unrequited. And, like many such unbalanced relationships, an occasional change of scenery can do wonders for the soul.

That said, I’m off to warmer climes to get re-acquainted with some coconut palms I met a few years ago.

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March 2010

What treasures have you stashed in your backyard, or behind the garage, or under the deck?

I’m not referring to the antique sort you’d find packed away in an attic. I mean those accumulated piles of ‘future project resources’ you bought at yard sales, picked up along side of a road or gleaned from friends.

I’ve visited hundreds of properties during my years as a landscape designer. Somewhere on nearly every site, and likely amassed over time, are collections of bricks, sash windows, mulch, rocks and the like. It all starts innocently enough—as simple as a dozen used tomato stakes ‘temporarily’ stored against a shed.

How such a small act could start a lifetime obsession of acquisitions is still psychologically debated, and often attributed to our ‘hunter/gatherer’ instincts.

I know there is never a doubt that time, talent and inclination will be available to build whatever it is the materials represent. Each addition to the property is hoarded in a wave of enthusiasm, with the noble goal to improve your family’s quality of life. After all, you reasoned, how hard could it be to build a patio, make a fence for a vegetable garden or split wood for the fireplace?

These puzzle pieces are mostly deposited in places unseen from the house. Often, especially after a year or more, with the luster faded from both materials and ambition, there’s no memory of why the junk was put there in the first place.

Always thinking myself above such activity, I saw this type of stockpiling as somewhat trashy and contemptuous behavior. Surely those misguided altruists knew in their heart they’d never find time for whatever magic they sought.

Having said that, some time ago, while inside my neighbor’s kitchen, I looked through a window that overlooked my house and gardens. I gazed out at what I was certain would be a scene of tranquility.

Panning past the dogwoods, rhododendron and flowers, my eyes were quickly guided under my deck to reveal four prominent, very warped and weathered sheets of cedar lattice. I was aghast, and immediately tried to mask my own sense of impropriety. I vaguely remembered the sheets being left over from a job and bringing them home for a project I planned to do when ‘things quieted down’.

Could that really have been two years ago?

They’re still there, though I keep meaning to get rid of them. Until I do, I’m keeping out of my neighbor’s kitchen.

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April 2010

“Now is the winter of our discontent.” - William Shakespeare, Richard III
As I set fingers to keyboard, mid way through the month of March, a blanket of snow still covers the ground outside my studio. When, in a normal season, I would be following the progressive emergence of bulbs and greening tips of perennials, my current garden view is of the messy flower spikes from last year’s perennials I’ve neglected to cut back.

“Yes! There will be growth in the spring!” - Chance the Gardener (Jerzy Kosinski - Being There)
Needing to justify last seasons’ lack of initiative, I cultivated a back up plan to get out early this year - before new growth starts in earnest. That would be right about now. With the snow and inevitable rain and mud we’ll get in March/April, my already delayed timetable seems in jeopardy.

“Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart.” - Victor Hugo
Even before the weather interfered, my lapse of resolve for mundane gardening tasks led to self-doubt towards getting the work done at all. Aside from last year’s leftovers, there is storm-related damage to trees and shrubs to deal with, lugging the debris to a truck and schlepping it all to the dump. My knees hurt at the mere thought of it all. Besides, it’s warm and dry in the house.

“A little Madness in the spring is wholesome.” - Emily Dickinson
I’ll need some serious inspiration to accomplish my goals in a timely manner. Confronting failure and potential public contempt should get me out the door. I awake startled at night, imagining the specter of ever-spreading ridicule for my unkempt gardens. I would be exposed as a fraud. Sponsorships revoked. The backlash would be disastrous to my family’s reputation. Surely these likely consequences would be enough to arm me with the energy I’ll need to get the pruning shears out and go at it. Or will it?

“I like to watch.” - Chance the Gardener (Jerzy Kosinski - Being There)
At long last facing its magnitude, I realize I can’t do the work alone. Deflated and terrified, I suddenly remember my cadre of gardeners lying in wait for the season to begin. With renewed stimulus, I enlist the hoard for the pruning, sawing and disposal needed to maintain the family’s good name. So bolstered by the dozen extra hands, I take the role of overseer, directing and critiquing at a shovel’s length.

“In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.” - Margaret Atwood
Knowing all will be right by day’s end, I become the ‘gentleman farmer’, digging and pruning only as I please.

My neuroses were for naught. As it turned out, there was a solution for my gardening problems. I wonder, however, if anyone on my crew can help with my irrational issues, as well.

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May 2010

Do Not Disturb!

Privacy is a bit like dessert. We all want it, but are sometimes embarrassed to ask for it.

Actions taken toward achieving property privacy could be seen as un-neighborly, with possible connotations of off-putting attitudes and chilling border relations.

I think my outlook is pretty much the norm when it comes to being observed and disturbed - especially at home. When work is done and I retreat to my own space, I want to unwind in an environment solely of my own inhabitance. I need to be free of distractions. No nosy neighbors, barking dogs or whining leaf blowers, thanks very much.

Seems a simple desire, perhaps even an inalienable right, right? Unfortunately for most of us, reaching this outer nirvana isn’t as simple as drawing a curtain inside the house.

I’ve had success increasing seclusion for my overly-exposed clients through simple solutions, none of which are earth-shattering in originality, but nonetheless effective. Most involve creating a screen along a property line, either with fencing or planting an evergreen hedge. The screen needn’t always resemble the suburban version of Fenway’s ‘Green Monster’. A few large evergreen trees planted at strategic angles between you and the offending views can accomplish your goals more subtly.

Whenever possible, I prefer the green solution. Plants are perceived as ‘friendlier’ than even the nicest privacy fence and they provide a softer backdrop for your enjoyment.

When space is at a premium, as it can be in our area, fencing might be the only prudent option. The future growth of trees must be considered before planting to insure a favorable long term outcome. A poorly conceived hedge planting in a narrow space will eventually claim the very ground you want to use.

This caveat is especially true if choosing bamboo; a group of plants still very much a curiosity here in the Northeast. Though most of us are aware of its reputation for rapid growth and appetite for global domination, it is too often planted without regard to its growth habit. A very un-neighborly thing to do. These oversized members of the lawn grass family can provide elegant screening above ground. However, it’s the nasty underground spreading rhizomes that will quickly do us in. Two years of stealth growth are all that’s needed before a rampant eruption of ‘shooting’ culms begins. Nearby real estate, plants and the occasional sleeping dog will be engulfed from every direction.

Make your material choices carefully and heed my sagely-offered cautions.

Once you have successfully protected your modesty, you should feel free to fetch that box of doughnuts you’ve been keeping under your car’s front seat. After all, it’s time to enjoy your just desserts.

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