Human Flower Project
In the Impossible
Beyond our wildest dreams and surpassing all human effort, something’s happened in the yard.
The Betsy Pirie rose (a.k.a Louis Philippe)—
top, in the drizzle April 15, 2010;
bottom, a year earlier, April 15, 2009
Photos: Human Flower Project
The past year has delivered some big cracks to skepticism. In fact, we’ve been staggering around for nearly three weeks now with pop-eyes and the transfixed smile of the believer.
Looking up Milam St., a relocated cactus and new four nerve daisy plants, April 8, 2009
Photo: Human Flower Project
It’s because things have changed, radically, here at home. Our yard has gone from a source of shame to a “lot” of pride. Though now that’s changed, too…
For us, it took hiring a really good guy and great plantsman, getting a design, buying some plants we’d never heard of, installing an irrigation system – and then maintaining these new lives under some dramatic conditions.
As Austinites know the past 12 months brought a near-record stretch of 100 degree temperatures and drought, then plentiful fall rains, and a plunge in the mercury. Here’s some detailed info. On the very coldest nights, we did toss sheets and towels over a few of the tenderest plants. And in February we chopped out lots of dead or withered stuff. We’ve tried to keep after the weeds (especially dreaded Bermuda grass)—and thus far this year, all those small tasks have been easy, since the mosquitos haven’t shown up yet. (There’s a reason that the largest urban bat colony roosts less than a half-mile from where we live) .
Looking across the corner: John Kerry memorial agave and new lantana, April 2009
Looking different and differently, April 2010
Photos: Human Flower Project
The trial by fire and freeze seems to have benefitted most everything here. We did lose two Mexican orchid trees completely and a lion’s tail; a few other plants that were supposed to have sprung up bushy by now instead died back. We pruned them hard and they’re sprouting shoots from the ground. Who’s in a hurry?
Best we can guess, it was judicious plant selections and locations, many yards of healthy soil, good drainage, and all the rain that transformed our corner.
A Dallas-crew had the street torn up for months in early 2009, just as the garden was going in, Februrary 2009
Photo: Human Flower Project
Here’s a shot from 14 months ago. The bed wrapping the corner had just gone in and a Dallas-based crew was about three months into replacing a major sewer-line on our street. Be grateful we can’t supply audio, because the din was hellish here daily for a long time.
April 8, 2010: agave, bluebonnets, Archuduke Charles and F.J. Lindheimer roses, iceplant, poppies
Photo: Human Flower Project
Here’s sunset a week ago. One passerby shook his head and chided us for not thinning the bluebonnets better, but how could we, after last year’s barrenness? About twenty small bluebonnet plants went in. They bloomed and we let them go completely to seed before tearing the dried plants out. It must have rained at just the magic moments for we’ve had a thicket of lupines, have pulled out bushels full just to give the roses and aloes some elbowroom. It’s still ridiculous and fluffy looking but, well, if we’re half as lucky weatherwise next year, perhaps we’ll be better groomed.
Beth Hudson cruises happily by on her evening stroll.
Photo: Human Flower Project
Out dead-heading or weeding or just “stumbling,” we have bumped into loads of neighbors. We’ve been able to cut and arrange lots of flowers and give them away. And we’ve loved visiting with friends outside, especially as the sun lowers and the colors turn from bright to glowing.
“You should be so proud,” said neighbor Cheryl, who stopped by to shoot pictures (other folks came by to pose in their Easter finery). And yes, we were proud, until we owned up to how little we’d done to bring any of it about – and how brief this glory will be. There was a time when those concessions would have hurt, but not today.
Wonder and gratitude are better than credit.
Hanging with Rico Shay and many others, April 13, 2010
Photo: Bill Bishop
Comments
You SHOULD be proud, Julie. There is no shame in hiring a design or installation for your garden. You took control of your space and have done a beautiful job of it. What a plentitude of growth in that first year. It’s really lovely.
Julie, your garden is just beautiful! You DO deserve all the credit for making it happen and for maintaining it! I too have a corner rock garden that needs some re-working this year, and it is also next to the road where many of my neighbors walk by, so I enjoy getting to talk to them when they do. They really appreciate having a place of beauty to walk by, as I’m sure your neighbors do. It’s nice to be part of a community.
Congratulations, and bask in the beauty!
Ann
Dear Keewee, Pam, and Ann,
Wonderful to hear from you great gardeners.Thanks so much for your cheerful responses.
It has been thrilling to see and hear what erupts from people as they pass by blooming flowers, proof that the human-floral connection is as basic as yawning and as much fun as sex.
Pam, thanks too for the affirmation that that hiring somebody wise and experienced and people/plant-aware (like yourself!) makes sense—and ultimately brings joy. I can forego many things happily (yea, 1994 Camry!) for this living beauty and excitement. Well worth every cent.
I had had a bad experience with a landscape designer many years ago—somebody who dropped by, then passed my project off to someone who had never seen the place. I got back a design fit for a golf course club house, priced at $20,000. So I gave up on the idea for many years. It was brute ugliness that brought me around.
Happy gardening to each of you!
Julie, you look lovely in your beautiful garden.
It looks really lovely, and glad to hear of this success story. There is nothing like getting good professional advice when you aren’t knowledgeable about something.
We won’t do our own cataract surgery, why should a good garden designer or horticulturist be accorded less credit and respect when they also have education and a skill set that most of us don’t?
In the Caribbean, almost everyone thinks they are an architect and or garden/landscape professional, so we have all these new awful looking “do it yourself” houses ( many monstrosities over 4000 sq ft) and yards. Rather than pay for professional advice, people spend thousands in plants that then die, because the in their ignorance they chose plants that are completely unsuited to the clime/site.
What a transformation and it such a short time. I’m not surprised that you have been walking around in awe. I wonder if any of your neighbors will follow suit? One thing about gardening in Texas- you don’t have to wait long for things to grow. Last summer and winter were tough but some plants loved the cold winter and all the rain. It gave certain plants, like prickly poppy, flax and blue eyed grass the perfect conditions to shine. So glad a visit from Pam brought me to your garden.
It’s just gorgeous and great to see the before and after. I read Pam’s post about your place first. I recognize your house and the lot since I used to live around the corner on Avondale. Your yard now looks AMAZING! I always knew it had potential.
Georgia- what cheer you bring. All of you. Thanks very much for looking, reading and writing.
Nicole, sad to say, I am a 2-D person, amazed by those who understand how space works, but I have discovered there are such people, all the more impressive when they can incorporate knowledge of the sprouting, flowering, and withering seasons most all plants undergo. Hats off to you!
Jenny, your garden is dreamy (in 2-D photos). Enjoyed meeting you at Spring Fling years back. I would love to see your garden in dimension 3 some day.
And Jean sorry we didn’t meet before you left the ‘hood. We have been owl watching in Little Stacy Park….Despite its silly millimeter of smugness (“hibachi of the vanities”?) Travis Heights is a good spot.
I am cracking UP over your “hibachi of the vanities” comment, Julie.
It’s gorgeous! I’m so happy for you!
Wonderful to hear from you, Kathy. And thanks. Hope the north country is warming up nicely, as here we are panting into summer.
And many thanks to you, Pam Penick/Digging, for shining such a good light on the place and sending your faithful readers our way!
http://www.penick.net/digging/?p=7342
No wonder you walked around with pop-eyes and big smiles – it’s wonderful, Julie! Your photos and Pam’s post are making me smile, too.
It’s beyond me how someone could stand before such abundant glory and make comments about thinning bluebonnets…that’s the kind of stuff one expects in my neighborhood – but in South Austin? Yipes!
Annie at the Transplantable Rose
I think the transformation is beautiful now the plants have filled in. Good job.