The question of what it means to “preserve a garden” has come up a lot in our master plan workshops and meetings. (For those who might not know because I’ve probably never mentioned it here, Blithewold is going through a master plan process to help us navigate into and through our future.) For gardeners, preservation is sort of a strange concept because death and change are such important cycles in the life of a garden. And we probably all have the expectation that our garden will die when we do or when our interest fades (perish the thought) or when we lose the function in our green thumbs. Joe Eck and Wayne Winterrowd said it best,

“Gardens by their very nature are fragile beings that live in the two dimensions of time and care. For their very survival they are dependent on weather, on soil conditions, on predators that come silently in the night, on the neglect or inattention of their owners, for none of us lives forever or particularly wants to… Still, we can leave no endowment behind. And we cannot imagine the parking. So, perhaps, the garden dies with us.” (from Our Life in Gardens)

In some rare cases, when a gardener dies, the gardener’s spirit and in fact, their garden too, may live on – not preserved in aspic; not caught in a moment in time like a photograph, but to-be-continued. A garden has to live and die every day the way gardens do, at the hands, mercy and whim of those devoted to planting, maintaining and enjoying it. Marjorie Lyon wished that Blithewold be opened to the public after her death. She was a gardener like her mother before her. And all of us who work in or simply enjoy the gardens are keepers of their spirit. Their gardens live.

A couple of weeks ago the world lost another great gardener. I never had the pleasure of meeting Wayne Winterrowd or seeing his and Joe Eck’s garden, North Hill in Vermont but they were to be our speakers at our upcoming Garden Design Luncheon. Julie Murphy, Blithewold’s education coordinator was in touch with Wayne several times over the last few months and said, “Wayne was above and beyond kind and funny. His emails were so much fun to read! It makes me so sad to think I did not get to know this man better.” If those of us who hadn’t even met Wayne yet can feel so robbed by his death, it’s impossible to imagine the sadness and shock of those who knew him well. They will be the ones charged with preserving his spirit and sharing it with us.

We hope that Wayne’s partner in life and gardens, Joe Eck will be able to find some solace in the garden they created together, and in continuing to teach, write and pass their love of plants and gardens on to us. I am stunned and grateful that Joe has offered to keep their Garden Design Luncheon engagement as a tribute to Wayne. A portion of the event’s proceeds will go to a memorial fund for the planting of a grove of birch trees at North Hill. Information for contributing to the memorial fund directly may be found on the North Hill website. For more information about the luncheon (November 4th at the RI Country Club) and to register,please click here.

Seed packets are starting to jam up our mailbox so Gail and I are getting busy clearing the desk and making the final cuts to our plant orders. All of us, especially those of us who aren’t made of money, know that plants don’t grow on trees. These things are expensive – and for good reason. We all know what kinds of resources go into growing plants and we’re willing to pay the price for what we truly, madly want. But budgets of actual money constrain us into making either-or choices instead of both-and. We just can’t afford to buy every little (and big) thing we circled. – Which is good because where would we put them all? I really enjoy this part of the process because it sharpens the edge of my desire. By the end of the culling sessions we have a much better idea of what we want the gardens to look like.

We’re making other cut backs (cuts back?) too. February light in the greenhouse is so much higher and warmer than January light that it always surprises me. Most of our greenhouse denizens don’t go into a full die-back dormancy over the winter, but growth generally slows way-way down especially in our coolest house. Until right about now. It’s like April in the Rose Garden – time to cut back the plants, like fuchsias, that are just now starting to send out a new flush of growth for the season.

Outside, new cuts have opened patches of sky we’ve never seen before. Last week, Fred and Dan took down a rapidly declining English oak that shaded part of the Rock Garden. That has opened up all sorts of new opportunities for growth and change. – We might even need some different plants…

And finally, have you cut branches to force yet? I almost prefer blooming sticks of forsythia inside than out. They’re so easy and quick – a couple-three weeks in sun and warm water and they’ll be golden. I’m not sure if we’ll have such easy luck with the Paulownia buds (on the right side of the bucket)… Remember – and I only say this because there’s a thief in our neighborhood – always get permission before taking anything from any property that doesn’t truly, actually belong to you.

I have come to the realization – as I think I do every year – that there is nothing better in this world than feasting on the garden’s harvest. But I think the critters have it right – there are some things that taste infinitely better in the garden than out of it. I don’t love cherry tomatoes nearly as much if I take them home first and put them in a salad. Call me a wingnut but the closest I can get to enjoying them to the same degree as I do in the garden is if I eat them standing up at the kitchen counter. The same goes for the ground cherries (a sweet relative of the tomatillo) which I prefer to pick just as they’re about to drop to the ground and I have been known to take serious grazing breaks at our clump. Bring them inside for a sit-down break though and I tend to lose interest.

Maybe it’s like picking flowers to bring inside – some people love to do that while others really only enjoy their flowers in the garden. Granted, with veggies there are some things that are much better brought home – I might not be inclined to graze the beets, for instance, since I really prefer them roasted, chilled and slathered in homemade blue cheese dressing. And isn’t basil best drizzled in olive oil and draped over a slice of heirloom tomato?

It seems like it’s been a funny year for the vegetable garden – slow to start for us with all of that rain in June and July and it seems like everyone’s tomatoes took a bit of a blighted beating. We are enjoying a good onion and leek crop though; the lettuce went on for ages and the artichokes were awfully good (dipped in melted butter, of course). Plus we’ve had more than our share of thievery in the gardens this year. The deer dined on the pole beans, somebody is chewing on the sweet potato foliage and whoever wiped us out of nearly ripe and still green tomatoes this weekend, shame on you. (I think Gail and I had the right idea planting the agave with the cherry tomatoes – though even those people with permission to pick have scars now from grazing…)

Gail and Cathy and I have been wondering about all of the people who were inspired this year to start a vegetable garden – are they feeling discouraged? We all already know that every year brings some kind of strange extreme and because of that I think we veteran gardeners have a duty to try to pass along our garden-variety optimism to any newbies we meet so they’ll keep on keeping on too.

How is your harvest so far this year? Do prefer to eat it standing up in the garden too?

Blithewold has been pretty lucky so far.  For a while it seemed like there must be an invisible 8′ high barrier encircling the property but in the past couple-three (four?) years the phantom fence has been breached on occasion by those timid, hungry, cloven hoofed landscape destroyers we affectionately call deer.  Lately we’ve seen the tell-tail evidence of more frequent visits and today I caught sight of a pair just after they had breakfasted on delicious tulip tops in the North Garden and Rose Garden.  What worries me is that all of the deer in Bristol probably know now about the Blithewold All-You-Can-Eat breakfast buffet.  Gail and I scattered Milorganite fertilizer (they hate that stuff) over all the tulips in every garden to try to discourage these hungry visitors. And we’ll have to keep reapplying as more and more tasty buds surface.

You know me – I prefer to encourage visitors to Blithewold so here’s my two-birds/one-stone solution: The more welcome visitors there are on the grounds, the less frequently (much less!) we’ll see the unwelcome ones – and with any luck we’ll still have a stupendous tulip display.  Here are a few shots from my morning walk to entice you…

I hope you can help!  Now if we could just book some pre-dawn bus tours…  Do deer dine in your garden?  How do you discourage them?

We noticed yesterday that one of our favorite fountain features was stolen and we are all sick about it. The copper Art Nouveau urn with a lotus motif was purchased for the original North Garden in 1908.

We are offering a $500 reward for information leading to its return so please keep your eyes peeled! – Click on the images for a larger view, etch its shape into your memory and help us scan for it in antiques shops, rummage sales, your neighbor’s garden, scrap yards, Ebay… so that it might come back to where it once belonged.