Blue Planet Garden Blog

Perfection

During a job interview, when asked to reveal your biggest weakness, a classic response is to modestly admit to being too much of a perfectionist - the flaw that isn't really a flaw. After all, if a job is worth doing at all, it’s worth doing right…right? 

Personally, I’ve never bought into that philosophy.  LOTS of things are worth doing just ok, including but not limited to: cleaning the house when company’s expected, pruning roses and learning to foxtrot.

Why then did I recently find myself in a client’s garden, unable to relax until I had relocated the dining table a few inches to the left and adjusted a pot until it was exactly centered on the patio’s edge?  Am I really a laid-back, live-and-let-live girl, or is there a drill sergeant lurking inside me, just waiting for the chance to turn every project into a Better Homes and Gardens centerfold?  After taking a good, hard look at myself, here’s what I’ve decided:

 

Clean Lines:  Perfectionist

 When I’m designing a garden, I always make sure edges are strong and purposeful.  If the plan includes curves, then I want strong, clear, easy to read curves, not namby-pamby wavy lines.

l

Before

l

After

l

Balance:  Perfectionist

Part of what I do at an initial client consultation is help a homeowner assess their existing garden.  Almost always it seems the patio is overwhelmed by furniture that’s too big, and a collection of plant containers that are too small.  You would never clutter up your living room with 14 pots of artificial flowers sitting around on the floor, or buy a full-sized cherry dining room set for your townhouse kitchenette, so why do it outside?  I generally give my clients a suggested furniture arrangement that ensures good circulation, furnishings that are balanced and properly scaled, and a layout that keeps the new patio from looking like a staging area for a yard sale.  

l

Furniture Placement Plan

l

  Plants:  Relax and Enjoyp

A few things push my buttons, like decades old shrubs sheared until they're just a ball of sticks with a few poor leaves hanging on for dear life.  But for the most part, I’m rarely bothered by planting beds that don’t meet rigorous design standards.  Wild, unpruned gardens where everything runs together? No problem, I like that jungle feel.  Shocking color combinations? Ditto, even hot pink and canary yellow have been known to bring a smile to my face.  Sun loving plants scraggly and sad because they’ve been planted in too much shade?  I secretly admire the gardener willing to throw down with Mother Nature.

So how about you?  Perfectionist, realist, or somewhere in between?

California Buckeye – Would you vote it off the island?

The Aesculus californica – California Buckeyes – that grow along one of the bike paths I walk on are blooming their hearts out right now.  Trouble is, they’ll be done in another few weeks and by August, they’ll go dormant.  Dormant as in, loose all their leaves.  In August. (Just want to be sure you got that part.)

People who like this California native are generally quite passionate about Buckeyes.  Speaking for myself, while I’m happy to admire its brief period of glory during my morning walk, I’ll probably never suggest it to a client.  The idea of a specimen tree that runs out of steam that early in the season just doesn’t do it for me.  And unless it’s carefully pruned, to me it looks a little like a big balloon head with a bad case of acne.

Here’s a money shot of the flowers, just to prove I’m not intentionally winning you over to my view point with unflattering photos.

One exception:  I did fall in love with a mature specimen in the side yard of an Orinda client, and developed a dramatic lighting plan to show off its beautiful gnarled form.  But the planning department nixed it, over concern that the evening light would conflict with the city’s bucolic nature (proud home of the three million dollar hillside mansion, but whatever).  What can I say?  Sometimes planners are poopyheads. 

So is this one of those right plant, right place trees?  Or just a straight thumbs up or thumbs down? 

Talk amongst yourselves.

When did microclimates become a fashion statement?

                                                                                  

A casual comment I made on Tina's blog In the Garden got me thinking about our obsession with microclimates in the West.  USDA zones 9a and 9b mean nothing to us, we are all about the 24 zones in the Sunset Western Garden Book, which is basically our gardening bible out here.  My design practice isn't that big, not more than 40 square miles, yet my clients' gardens cover three different zones.  Sounds manageable, but lately things are getting out of hand, as Californians seem to think taking a few steps out the back door puts them into another climate zone entirely, because, they are convinced their garden is hosting a vast collection of microclimates.  I put this in italics, because the word is usually emphasized in a very earnest way.

Is having a garden with a microclimate the new status symbol, now that none of us have portfolios or in some cases even jobs to brag about?  How many microclimates in your garden?  Just two?  I have three - so exhausting to manage, but worth it!  And just picture the poor out of state garden enthusiast who tries to get in on this conversation.  No microclimates at all?  Just the one big climate for everyone? 

I see.  Not very exclusive.

Thinking about this has allowed a truly disturbing thought to rear its ugly head - what if there aren't really 24 climate zones in the West, or any microclimates at all, and Sunset has performed the most successful hoax since the Bush administration convinced us of the existence of weapons of mass destruction?  Conspiracy theorists, feel free to chime in on this one.