The Karl Foerster Garden

For inspiration that directly applies to the lifestyle garden that this blog advocates there is nothing better than visiting a great private garden. On July sixth of this year I was lucky enough to visit the garden of the famous Karl Foerster in Potsdam, Germany. Although it is the historic garden that he laid out at his home it is now open to the public. The garden is the size of a slightly larger than average suburban lot but is filled entirely with what they describe as a strictly symmetrical layout. The plantings are anything but symmetrical. How many of us have the forethought to give our gardens the structure they need? I know I don't. The Foerster garden is a livable garden. Throughout are places to stroll, to sit, to admire, and to contemplate. I took 160 photographs and conjured up my best German to tell a gardener working there how much I admired and enjoyed their work. I told her that this garden made my trip worthwhile. It was a wonderful experience that I hope to refer back to often on this blog. The three above images can't begin to tell the whole story, but they are a few of the most photogenic and represent a good start. All three are of the sunken garden at the front of the house.

Consequences of Provincialism

Ramonda myconi at Karl Foerster Garden, Potsdam


Ramonda myconi at Ernst-Moritz-Arndt-Universität, Greifswald


Ramonda myconi at Berlin Botanischer Garten


Ramonda myconi at Botanischer Garten der Universität Potsdam

A couple of blogs ago I proudly mentioned my success at growing Ramonda myconi, a hardy member of the African violet family (Gesneriaceae). I imagined this Ramonda to be a very rare thing seldom seen in gardens, because I had never seen it in gardens. I visited Germany a couple of weeks ago where I saw four rock gardens. Each and every one was growing Ramonda myconi (although they were, alas, no longer in bloom). It is so easy to become provincial! But then that is one of the main reasons I wanted to take that trip. A person needs to get out into the world every now and then. I hope it isn't another twenty-nine years between my trips to Europe.

An Ornamental Grape of Special Note

I don't want to turn this blog into a series of jags about the fabulous attributes of this plant or that. That story has its place, but for the theme of this blog a worthy plant profile should say more than how good it looks. Vitis coignetiae(crimson glory vine). Let's call it Vitis coignetiae and pronounce that French looking word any damn way we please. I most recently heard this plant being revered in an podcasted interview with the famous English gardener Beth Chatto. I was pleased to be able to think to myself, ah yes, I know it and grow it. I won't try to wax sentimental about its attributes except to say that its leaves are fascinating in their color, texture, and positioning. The vine has the ability to add an allure to places it is grown. But don't plan on eating the grapes. I first remember seeing it at an outdoor restaurant, and I wish I remembered where, because when I saw it I knew I had to some day grow it for myself. I wasn't sure about it's hardines, so when my first planting died I suspected hardiness as the problem. Fortunately the second try worked. Vines, especially large vines such as this one, can't be grown to their best advantage just anywhere as my planting of it testifies, yet I am glad I have it in spite of its less than inspired setting. Even when it is not at its "best advantage", it can grace its site. Some plants are so worthy that they need to be in the inventory of plants the gardener is not only aware of but knows how to use and grow. I wanted to know how to use Vitis coignetiae , so I had to grow it, as best I could. I think my kind of gardener can't be satisfied simply admiring plants, we have to find some way of growing them.

Pleasure From the Substantial and the Tiny

I have realized particular gratification this spring from two very different sorts of plantings. One is large and defines space; the other is one tiny plant in a crevice, but I get a real kick out of both of them.

The first is a planting of willow that I started about ten years ago. A creek that is a boundary of my property seemed a perfect place to block the view of the neighbors and to create a beautiful grove of trees. The willows were about as cheap a planting as could be had. At Kingwood Center where I work we annually cut back Salix alba 'Britzensis' to the ground to allow those beautiful coral colored shoots to grow back up shrub sized. I gathered up the harvest and stuck them in the wet ground hoping they would root. Over several years of mixed successes I eventually established a substantial grove of trees, the full extent of which I did not capture in the above image.

The other planting that brought me special pleasure this spring caught my attention with its lone flower on a lone plant of Ramonda myconi. I bought it three years ago at a local North American Rock Garden Society meeting from Wrightman Alpine Nursery. Of seven different species I bought that day it is one of only two that are still with me. I shouldn't expect to grow "alpines" in my hot Ohio garden, but I do expect to grow rock garden plants. Drainage seems to be the key and the crevice that my ramonda was lucky enough to be planted into seemed to do the trick. The fact that it took three years to put out its first flower, that I was able to find suitable exposure and soil for it, and that it is the only hardy gesneriad that I have ever come across all added up to considerable satisfaction on my part.

Garden Centers

Yesterday I led my eleventh annual bus trip from Kingwood. We load up 46 people and spend the day plant shopping. It's lots of fun although anything that goes wrong falls on me, so I worry. We have probably visited over thirty different places that sell plants over the years. and it has been an interesting study in what appeals to the group and to me. It isn't feasible for me to visit each site before the trip, so I rely heavily on word of mouth, Internet, and now my experience. Unfortunately some stinkers can sneak in. One year a gardener who I respect highly recommended a water garden nursery. Always ready to find a diamond in the rough I directed the poor bus driver down a winding dirt road to the almost abandoned site. Everyone was polite and the owner valiantly offered up a paltry assortment of pathetic looking plants. On this year's trip our last stop was a place that touted their fine wines and designer purses. Unfortunately their garden center business seemed to be a relic. Fortunately the other four garden centers we visited were good.

Even more difficult is finding a garden center that offers a distinctive line of plants. Often times the biggest and most successful garden centers are almost indistinguishable from one another. The same plants in over sized and over priced containers can be found in all of them. I like the garden centers that cater to the plantsman more than the instant gratification seeker.

Some of my favorites over the years have been:
Bluestone Nursery the mail order nursery north east of Cleveland that allows you on site access to their full catalog of plants
Baker's Acres east of Columbus loaded with a wonderful range of plants
Dave Dannaher's Nursery near Columbus, a grafting enthusiast who has more grafted woody curiosities than he knows what to do with (by appointment)
Mulberry Creek Herb Farm near Sandusky, a tiny family run nursery specializing in miniature plants and herbs
Meadow View Growers a large upscale garden center near Dayton that also caters to people looking for the different and the unusual.

Other garden centers that were good but not necessarily favorites were Lowes (no, not that Lowes) Greenhouse and Florist Shop in Chagrin Falls, Cahoon's in Westlake, and Corso's Flower and Garden Center near Sandusky.

Then there are the places that are just fun to visit even if their offerings are a bit hit and miss. I guess Daisy Hill Greenhouse in Hunting Valley near Cleveland is the most fun. I just wish they labeled their plants or at least knew what their more unusual plants were.

Finally the best treat is when wholesale nurseries let us in to shop. I won't mention any names. They probably would prefer no one knew they ever did that.

I Remember Jeep (and Anemone nemorosa 'Bracteata Pleniflora')

The above clump of Cardamine trifolia represents seven years of growth.


I planted three Anemone nemorosa 'bracteata pleniflora eight years ago. Here they are today. Now that is slow! Click on the picture to get a better view of the amazing flowers.

Although I am not a particularly organized person I have had considerable enjoyment from records I kept of the plants I acquired in the twelve years I have been gardening at my current home. I refer back to those records on a regular basis for many reasons. For example, I photographed a clump of Cardamine trifolia this spring that I seem to have had forever, and yet it is still a smallish clump. A quick search found that I bought it from the now defunct version of Heronswood Nursery seven years ago, so look at the picture and judge for yourself, but I think that is one slow growing groundcover! Another photograph this spring evoked a similar curiosity. My Anemone nemorosa 'Brachteata Pleniflora' (which I coincidentally also bought from Heronswood)has finally emerged from the status of a tiny little whisper of plants to an actual clump (see image above). That bit of progress took eight years.

I also enjoy reminiscing over plants that are no longer with me because they didn't survive(it's a humiliatingly large number), or because I had to frantically eradicate them (e.g. Campanula punctata, Salvia forskaohlei, and Knautia macedonica come to mind), because they were taking over the garden. It is also interesting to see the relative success I have had with various nurseries. I recently observed, for example, that while I have acquired some particularly unusual and successful plants from one specialty nursery, which is famous for letting you figure out for yourself where their plants will grow, a large majority of the plants I bought from them did not make it. I decided that their already high cost was too high when the attrition rate is factored in. I have also found the records to be particularly satisfying in reminding me of those special plants that have been given to me and have found a suitable home in my garden. I like to remember the people and the friendship when I think of their plants. Sometimes it is years before I realize I want to buy more of a particularly successful plant, so it is useful to know where I bought them originally, and when I lose the labels I have at least a fighting chance of figuring out what the full name of the now unidentified plants are. Record keeping may be a bore, but these records of mine have expanded my gardening pleasure and success significantly.

Remembering Belly Plants

Primula marginata


Corydalis solida 'Blushing Girl'


Diphyllea sinensis


Deinanthe caerulea

Large sweeps of bulbs and big perennial borders are impressive and something to be proud of if you created them yourself, but there is a special place in my sense of satisfaction for the many small and demure plants that reward looking closely especially in intimate spaces. This spring my thrill for the understated is with a new (for me)primrose, Primula marginata . It bloomed for the first time recently in my rock wall. The color, the survival of a new plant, the successful colonization of my rock wall, and the fact that it was a new species for me all contributed to my pleasure, in addition to its beauty. Last year it was Corydalis solida 'Blushing Girl' and the fruit of Diphylleia sinensis, the year before I recall Deinanthe caerulea.

I am reminded of the enthusiasm my fellow botany students and I had on field trips for what we called belly plants, those plants that were so small we had to get on our bellies to enjoy them. These garden plants aren't tiny like belly plants, but they certainly evoke a similar sort of appreciation.

Secret Pleasures

A sense of humor is essential to the lifestyle garden and I got a good laugh out of the above pictured Galanthus (snow drops). I had long ago lost track of the name and all memory of planting this little patch of snow drops next to my driveway, but I was looking at them this spring and was struck by how the flowers seemed strangely fat. Upon closer inspection I discovered they were doubles. Of course, you can't tell the flowers are doubles unless you turn them upside down. I found this all both gratifying and mildly humorous. It is like a private little secret of mine that I can enjoy any time I want to tip up one of the flowers, and they really are beautiful if I take the time to look.