Nontraditional, but Horticultural, Garden Design

I work about half of every day in my gardens. It’s work that often leaves me feeling my age, but I can’t stop. Most of the gardening season I have a helper, Nancy Bell, who comes over and works with me for a day each week. I’ve been working on these gardens for the better part of 15 years and Nancy has been working with me for about the last 10 of them.

We were working at the north end of my long, double-sided (English) border that’s about 150 feet long and from 8 to 20 feet wide. Nancy said to me, “Andrew, this end of the border is picture perfect.” And for that moment it was. The new roses were blooming. The new Kniphofia that came in last spring were blooming, though late. The fall anemones, both singles and doubles, were pushing their wiry stems above the other foliage and they were in bloom. The great clouds of spent Thalictrum flowers towered above and the half-faded flowers of 6-foot-tall Rudbeckia triloba, which were being pecked at by the goldfinches as they sought out the seeds.

Nancy won’t let me cut off any seed heads of these plants until the birds have had their full. She and I differ a bit on this but while she’s around I control myself with any deadheading, though limited, done when she departs.

And as the garden slowly begins to thin I know I need to take pictures and write notes. The planning for next year actually began months ago on a simple Word document that’s titled “Changes and Moves 2023.” Every few days I take pictures while walking around the gardens and these become my archives. The pictures only record the past, the notes foretell the future. Or at least what I hope and envision for the future.

Observations in these next few weeks and the notes from the past several months set up the scheme for next year’s work even though there are still weeks of work to do now. There are design aspects to consider (which I shy from), holes where plants didn’t work out and plants that need to be moved because they’ve gotten too big, remain too small and just aren’t working for one reason or another. And once again, UPS drops by at least weekly with new plants and bulbs that need to be planted and a few shrubs that are going into our trials.

Now a disclaimer. I am not a garden designer, and I never will be. My nature is too rebellious and independent to follow what you might call the norms of garden design. But having said that I have had the pleasure and privilege of working with some of the greatest and some of it sank in.

First there was my earliest mentor, Hitch Wyman, who has not just a flair but an innate ability to design, create and meld. He isn’t afraid to experiment, and he did incredible work with annuals, perennials, shrubs and small trees in his gardens. I would simply call him whimsical but an incredibly talented artist and gardener.

Later on I worked with Madison Cox, a more traditional designer who has worked on several gardens and landscapes in the Hamptons over the years especially along Meadow Lane in Southampton. Madison is a master of blending color, size and seasonal appeal, and his gardens can be ones that just dazzle for the summer seasons, though his work in Westchester and in Connecticut are in gardens with four-season appeal.

My gardens, on the other hand, are a horticulturist’s gardens where the norms and traditions are remembered but aren’t the guiding principles of the layout. My goal is to see what will grow, what can be brought in from the wild, be tamed and blended with more traditional garden plants. Annuals are verboten though Nancy has snuck a few in. I have incorporated some shrubs and a few trees under 15 feet tall but these are in the periphery and serve more as specimens and stand-alones as opposed to being integrated in and with the gardens.

As I learn from these plants, their flowers, their textures and their idiosyncrasies I’m able to move them around to give them better suited sites, different soils and different companions. The results put a broad grin on my face from mid-July into mid-August when my beds peak and peak. It’s during this time that you might hear me mumble, “This is what it’s all about.”

If you were to look at my gardens you’d eventually realize that they require you to work. You can’t simply walk by and gaze or you miss the best parts. In most gardens taller plants go toward the back with shorter ones toward the front. I mostly adhere to that mantra, but there are some tall plants in front, very tall ones. Yes they do hide plants that are behind them, but it’s actually a trick where I hope the viewer will peek around corners, see a hidden flash of color and bend a neck or take a step to see something from another view and perspective.

Some norms really can’t be challenged though. A plant that needs full sun simply can’t be planted and expected to survive in full shade. But some small adjustments can lead to interesting results. One example is the Actea simplex “Brunette.” Formerly known as Cimicifuga, this plant has chocolate foliage and white bottle brush-type flowers atop spindly stems showing up in late summer. It does well in part or high shade and the flowers attract hummingbirds.

I have several of these under the shaded canopy of a very old, very tall and limbed up maple. A second group just 10 feet away is closer to the border edge. Just a slight difference in location but the soil is the same. Ah, but the plants closer to the border edge bloom a full two weeks earlier due to the ever-so-slight change in lighting as the earlier plants get more light than the later ones.

Plants of the same species and supposedly of the same size can also play tricks. I have Phlox “Glamour Girl” in several places on the property, Each location has a different exposure and in each location the plant is the same height but the flower’s colors vary greatly. Technically the flowers are referred to as “shades of light coral pink” and in some of the plants the coral shows up but in other locations there is the coral as well as some white banding. For this plant the flowers and their colors are totally light dependent.

Another example is Phlox p. “David” our mildew-resistant white. We grow this one in full sun to dappled shade. In full sun it grows to about 3 feet, but as soon as you introduce some shade it can grow up to 5 feet tall. Same great foliage, same great pure white color, just different heights. Good to know and something you learn from experience.

Gardens are fluid and perpetually in a state of flux. Plants age, trees get taller and their shade patterns can change. Trees die and take with them shade that may have been there for decades. Even trees on a neighboring property can cast shadows that weren’t there years ago. And there’s climate change that means there are some plants that will struggle with the heat, but there is opportunity for new plants as well.

I guess the moral of this week’s column is several fold. First is do your own thing. This is really important if your garden is for you. On the other hand, if your garden is for show and beating the other gardens down the street — then you may want to take a more traditional approach. Next is that the same plant can and will perform differently in your garden in different lighting. Be careful, though, as playing with light can result in plants that get too leggy. Not enough light and this can cause them to tumble as the stems stretch.

Lastly, take notes and pictures. Lots and lots of each. The pictures become your archive of what was and your notes become your archive of what you might want things to look like going forward. What works, what doesn’t and what needs to change or be added to.

One great way to use pictures is using those taken from above your garden. If you own a drone with a camera that can shoot directly down you can take great pictures that show your space utilization. Blank spots (also known in my garden as opportunities) can be identified and you get a very different perspective than from the view you usually see your garden from: straight on.

Ask friends and family if they can do shots like these for you. The drone should be about 50 feet above the garden.

Remember, I’m a perennial kind of guy. That’s my bias. If you’re more open minded there are even more design opportunities and challenges for your property. Observe, photograph, take notes. Remember, there’s always room for one more. Keep growing.