Fresh from speaking to the Northwest Perennial Alliance’s Hardy Plant Study Weekend in Seattle, Washington last weekend, and seeing the greatest concentration of home gardens (and enthusiastic home gardeners) I have probably ever seen in this country, only to come back to the gnats, humidity, deer ticks and extremes of Virginia, it’s hard not to believe that the grass is not only figuratively greener for a gardener in Washington state — it’s literally greener.
The exquisite garden of Joanne White in Redmond, WA.
I spent much of the three days I was there spewing a constant mantra of either “What is that, and can I grow it?!?” or the more familiar, “Damn I wish I could grow that.” Moss everywhere. Ferns everywhere. Lush, everywhere. Even the nose gets involved in the rapture – pathway mulch is ground from local Douglas fir and cedar which releases a warm smell of Christmas tree lot when you walk through a garden. That’s not playing fair.
Oh and the other thing – Smug. Gardeners. Everywhere. They know what they’ve got and they’ve got it good.
Like nurseries. Dancing Oaks, Fancy Fronds, Far Reaches Farm, Windcliff Plants, ….ringing any bells folks? Yep. Within driving distance. When I asked the audience how many people were living in their ideal garden, half of them raised their hands. That’s impressive.
In the back of my mind I have a more than a niggling regret that we didn’t move to this area 20 years ago and just order a couple of Seasonal Affective Disorder visors when winters started to wear.
Dr. Ross Bayton and Debby Purser from Heronswood getting ready to speak at the NPA Symposium at the Meydenbauer Center.
What is that and can I grow it?
A few of my take-aways (not literally):
These bergenia leaves were 7-8 inches across and belong (I think) to a cultivar out of Great Dixter – possibly ‘Eden’s Magic Giant’ ?
Pulsillata alpina. While I was admiring this plant in the rock garden of the Bellevue Botanical Garden, a Scottish woman told me that it does very well from seed, and without a thought for ethics, grabbed a seed head and handed it to me with instructions to sow immediately. About 100 gardeners stood just behind me enjoying a drink and probably watching with interest. One of those moments where you are simultaneously horrified and delighted at the same time.
Woodwardia unigemmata – a gorgeous red species of this architectural fern that actually roots itself at the tip of the frond. Stunning. (Bellevue Botanical Garden)
The silky, sultry petals of Cornus florida ‘Venus’ up against an ‘Ogon’ Metasequoia.
Aesculus hippocastanum ‘Wisselink’ growing, coppiced and lovely as a shrub at the Bellevue Botanical Garden. Fellow speaker, Vincent Simeone, (who KNOWS his trees) shrugged and said, “well, you could try it in your heat for a couple years…”
The podophyllum were out of control. Which makes sense since we EastCoasters spend millions of dollars annually on shipping costs bringing these beauties to our gardens. Pictured: ‘Red Panda’ (Garden of Daniel Sparler & Jeff Schouten)
Fairly sure this is Podophyllum pleianthum (though I’m not sure I would know as mine sure as hell doesn’t look like that). (Garden of Daniel Sparler & Jeff Schouten)
Is this ‘Spotty Dotty’ gone mad, or some other wonderful wishlist cultivar? RantReaders, I need an ID. (Bellevue Botanical Garden)
We’ve all got our problems
Envy is not a good thing. And then you go to Seattle.
I am the first to say that we cannot exist constructively or productively in a mind space of garden envy – nor should we (which, ironically, was the entire theme of my presentation at the Symposium on my first book, Big Dreams, Small Garden).
However.
The gardening was so damn good, and the gardeners so damn happy, that upon landing back at Dulles and breathing deeply of the muggy swamp times, it was critical to my mental health to figure out and focus on the Pacific Northwest’s weaknesses challenges. Here’s the best I could do:
- Although I was repeatedly told that there was, apparently, a visible mountain range on the horizon, it remained invisible during my four-day visit – even when the blue sky peaked out on my way back to the airport. Mt. Rainer is there. That’s some impressive cloud cover.
The co-president of the NPA, Alison Johnson, took this photo two days ago and sent it just to mess with me. Seems suspiciously Photoshopped.
- It drizzles there. And sprinkles, and spits, and mists. Seattle region actually gets less rain per year than my region of Virginia (average of 34 as opposed to 41 inches a year), and suffers a dry summer climate. Our wettest month is August.
- Record breaking spring and summer heat over the last ten years has taxed the patience of the best of gardeners, who can’t escape the heat once they’ve sweltered in the garden because most people don’t have air conditioners. We share only the first part of that problem, as we equip our lemonade stands with A/C, much less our homes.
- Median cost of a single family house (according to RedFin) is now $890K. Thank you Bill Gates. And you too Elon. (A reader reminds me that Mr. Bezos’ fingerprints are all over that price hike too. – MW)
- Epic slugs.
- There’s only so much seafood you can eat before you get iodine poisoning.
Makes me feel so much better.
You know it’s bad when they’re on the amsonia. (In the interests of generosity, I will not divulge this garden’s location.)
Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda
At one point in our lives, a Seattle relocation was very much on the table.
We were planning a move back to the US from a long period in the UK, and were trying to figure out (based on quality of life) where in the US to move our then little family of three.
Having grown up and lived most of our lives near one coastline or another, we didn’t want to give up being relatively close to the ocean (less than 4 hours); but our massive student loans made it impossible to consider our pricey home state of California, as our priority was getting them paid off as quickly as possible. Though we wanted to live rurally, we knew that it would take a good amount of paying dues in urban and suburban environments before a country life could be our reality.
This gorgeous and newly created grotto lives under a deck in the garden of Tanya Bednarksi. I won’t show you a picture of what lives under my deck.
At that time, Seattle and environs had plenty of job opportunities. Frazier was in re-runs on UK television sets, and it felt like a great destination. From all accounts it was flipping gorgeous, and the cost of living was better than that on offer in the Golden State. Mountains AND oceans. And lakes for that matter.
We started to think seriously about it, the idealism of two 20-somethings trumping all else, including rumors of drizzle and long periods of grey skies.
Then one rainy, grey Sunday, we found ourselves in the East London kitchen of friends Guisi and Oliver, making lunch after a failed BBQ, and talking about plans. Our friends both knew that London’s long grey winters and the [often] lack of a true summer in the UK didn’t have a great effect upon the moods of a couple born and raised in abundant sunshine (especially a couple deficient in the funds to holiday abroad occasionally). They looked at us sideways as we gushed about a new adventure in a new place.
Only in Seattle. Trachycarpus and self sown candelabra primulas share space in the garden of Joanne White at Novelty Creek.
Oliver, who traveled a great deal for work, and who was cleverly in the midst of relocating his family to sun-drenched Italy, pulled out a large atlas that provided a schematic of the world’s regional weather patterns to sober us up a bit. Over the UK was the light blue overlay of “Maritime Climate.” And there, on the other side of the world, this overlay cast its temperate but rainy shadow over the Pacific Northwest. He pointed outside to the site of our ruined June BBQ for emphasis.
We sobered. Love was dead. Lunch continued in silence.
Later we went on to mindfully choose a regional weather pattern of “Summer in Jumanji.” An exciting seasonal collaboration between Singapore and Finland.
So much better.
Inspiring gabion walls in the garden of Alison and Andrew Johnson. Inspiring because she and her son put them together over the course of a summer and solved the problem of a difficult slope. Andrew then built the steps.
Next time I visit Seattle, it will be for longer. I look forward to exploring the area – its hiking, its gardens, its nurseries, and maybe even its long-term care homes. And I’ll definitely bring a bigger suitcase – the nurseries are fabulous. – MW
Yes, jealous of their dry winters and less hot summers. They can grow more Cypripediums; probably why Ron B of Gardens At Post Hill moved after retirement.
(You forgot to thank Jeff B also)
Thanks Linus – I have gone back and accused him equally. – MW
See that cute Spotty Dotty at Roanoke Botanic Garden.
We were in old Phoenix ( old for them) in April. Lovely gardens, lovely weather. But I have been there in July and it is miserable. Would love to visit PNW specifically to see gardens. But I’m always glad to get back to my flyover state garden.
I lived there for a short time in the late 1980s and “don’t californicate our state’ was not an uncommon bumper sticker. Locals resented those californians with more $ to burn on real estate and driving up prices even then… And, we used to joke that we shouldln’t tell people it actually rains more on the east coat — they might move to Seattle. (You would have gotten a pass for moving from the UK ;-_) I didn’t have a garden then, but I;ve visited quite a few there since then, and no denying how lush everything is. You could have a UK garden, basically with maybe a sunnier summer? I found the winters somewhat oppressive, low light and low clouds, misty– a lot. They too are experiencing extreme weather — heat, snow…. etc. Anyway, maybe all you need there is a summer house– you know one of those indoor/outdoor garden rooms ;-). It is a great place to visit…..
Having grown up in Vancouver just north of Seattle I can attest to how hard the long cloudy and drizzly winter days gets to you. Now living next door in sunny Alberta, with beautiful blue sunny winter skies, I still miss the verdant green of Spring but maintain the PNW is a nice place to visit but wouldn’t want to live there. Those gardens are definitely drool-worthy though.
I thought once I moved from Austin to east Texas where the soil was deep and the rainfall (41-45″ annual) was sufficient to keep plants hydrated that I’d never move again. Your post (thank you) brings home that perhaps this isn’t the place I need to be climate-wise and otherwise. Right now, we’re living through moderate drought. I’m watering daily and have been for two weeks. It will get to 101 degrees today, tomorrow, yesterday, and indefinitely. For reasons in addition to gardening, of late I’ve been looking at houses in Vermont, Illinois, and even Canada. I’d like to live with less heat and with people who are more like me than not, but I don’t know much about snow, and I’m not 20 anymore. I’ve lived in Texas for 50 years. The Pacific Northwest is gorgeous.–I’ll try not to be envious.
Heat like that is so tough – my sympathies are with you. We’re on 90 degree days right now with heavy humidity. Lots of breaks and early morning hours and I can get tasks done. It was wonderful to be in the cool for a while. – MW
Thank you for a great RANT
I’m amazed that some people can pick up and move to what they think will be better than where they are. I live in a very hot summer climate, zone 9, and have a very pretty garden. I wish I could grow whatever I like but nobody can. Marianne, you have a beautiful garden and I will bet that everyone that reads garden rant does too.
Thanks Judy. That’s really the history of mankind (and animal-kind for that matter) – migrating to new places in response to environmental stimuli. Ours were six student loan bills each month and low salaries in the UK. 🙂 Happy in Virginia even though it’s fun to dream…. – MW
If it helps, we in the PNW now often endure days-long stretches of wildfire smoke, at times so bad we are directed to remain indoors for our lungs’ sake. And tomatoes are a bit iffy, although that may be changing with the times.
I forgot about the wildfire smoke! Same in California almost every time I visit my family. – MW
What beautiful pictures! My grandmother lived in Seattle-she called it Heaven for gardeners.
I moved here from Alabama and haven’t looked back. It is paradise compared to the South both in horticulture, culture and progression. The only negative aspect I can think of is that it is crowded.
I too live in Virginia, though on only 1/3 acre near the south-east coast. I would love to have such verdant greenery growing below my large oak tree. However, I have become convinced that the only way to do that is to plant everything in planters raised off the ground enough to keep the tree roots out and allow those tree roots to breathe. Will also require a sprinkler system that turns on daily. I even bought some misters to put in place for those hot dry days we get in mid-summer. Basically I will be creating my own climate in that one area. But to an extent, we all play those games when we plant in pots with various soil types to match the plants we want, and adjust the watering to match the plants’ needs.
I have lived here most of my 65 years and it’s home to me, though I am somewhat envious, Marianne, as I’ve always wanted to live in a more rural area in the Virginia mountains. But I am not moving away from my grandchildren!
Thank you for this wonderful garden tour. Made me laugh out loud, and I saw plants I hadn’t seen in years. My husband had Alzheimer’s so I stopped gardening to take care of him. Now I’m on my own again, missing him YES, but thinking about gardening again which is helping me.
My condolences Chris. One of the most extraordinary gardens on this trip was created by a woman who had lost her husband to Alzheimer’s several years before. I hope your garden becomes a healing place for you. After my father’s death it was the place I felt closest to him. – MW
Your rant had me laughing out loud, and nodding my head in agreement. Two of my kids live in Portland, Oregon, and every time I visit them the green from all the gardens rubs off on me, and I wish I could live not only where it’s easy to garden, but everyone does it! *sigh* But I did visit once in December, and got very different vibes. It all seemed so closed-in and claustrophobic. (But that’s also when my daughter lived downtown, which probably compounded that feeling of claustrophobia) Nevertheless, I’d love to live anywhere that people, so many people, love to garden, and fill their front yards with flowers and veg instead of lawns. I think that, more than anything, is what I’m green with envy about.
I just returned from a visit to the Long Beach Peninsula on the southern WA coast. I live in the Columbia River Gorge, which is its own kind of paradise, but I was gobsmacked by the landscaping (both public and private) there! Lush, healthy, well tended colorful and interesting perennials, herbs, shrubs and trees everywhere. There were plants I’d never seen before. As we drove around the peninsula I noticed a number of intriguing nurseries too—I didn’t have time to visit any, maybe next time.