Zanny started barking when the FedEx truck arrived at the curb around 11 a.m. today. Little did I know she was announcing the delivery of my advanced copy of Stylish Sheds and Elegant Hideaways!

I opened the padded envelope from Clarkson Potter so quickly that I got a paper cut, but no bother…it was worth the pain because I knew what was inside. What an exciting feeling to hold this volume in my hands, to feel the slick, glossy jacket wrapped around a hardback book bound in two shades of sage green, to flip the pages (c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y at the top, right corner, Robyn) and then see Bill Wright’s gorgeous photographs return me to the many magical destinations we’ve visited in the past few years. 

How odd, to read the words I wrote with such intensity (and almost always while on a crazy deadline) as they looked up at me in a friendly, familiar way. What a gift to have been able to explore this notion of a separate, backyard destination, and take the journey with so many wonderful shed owners to discover their stories.

There are some very special people to acknowledge, and I’ll be thanking them again and again. First of all, my collaborator and creative partner, Bill Wright, photographer extraordinaire. We had a fun and compatible adventure documenting nearly 40 locations, 28 of which appear in the final book. You don’t really know a person’s true character until you have to work side-by-side with him at 4:30 a.m. (after going to sleep at midnight the night before), schlep photography equipment together, and realize he is letting you be bossy when he really does know what he’s doing! No words can fully explain my gratitude, Bill. We got through Stylish Sheds with only a few “I’m about to kill you” moments — moments that we thankfully laugh about now.

Doris Cooper, our visionary and big-picture editor, believed in this idea. I am grateful that she was willing to trust her gut, trust our creativity and support us as we pursued this dream. I’m ready for the next big thing and hope I can repeat the experience with her at the helm. Marysarah Quinn, the incredibly gifted designer and art director, took a pile of photos and pages of text and conjured up a jewel of a book that really sparkles. All I can say is “wow,” Marysarah. You gave us your best and it feels great to hold the finished evidence in my hands. Finally, a big bouquet of thanks goes to Sarah Jane Freymann, the agent who “gets it,” who represents us so well, and who inspires me, makes me laugh, and gives me hope.

All these accolades will be repeated in two months when our official on-sale date arrives, April 29th. But my birthday is this week, and I’m tickled for the early B-day present.  

Thought I’d post a few photographs of the real thing, and share some lines from the introduction, entitled: “Escape to your own backyard.”

. . . The human need for a separate place appears in literature, speaking to the ideal of ‘sanctuary’ in our personal lives. In his book The Poetics of Space, the French philosopher Gaston Bachelard wrote, ‘The recollection of moments of confined, simple, shut-in space are experiences of heartwarming space, of a space that does not seek to become extended, but would like above all still to be possessed . . . [it] is at once small and large, warm and cool, always comforting.’

Bachelard’s thoughts on shelter resonate with me, as do the words of architect Ann Cline, who calls her backyard shed a ‘hut.’ In her book of essays, A Hut of One’s Own, Cline describes a journey taken by many of us (if only in our dreams): ‘Nowadays, the woman – or man – who wishes to experience the poetry of life . . . might be similarly advised to have a hut of her – or his – own. Here, isolated from the wasteland and its new world saviors, a person might gain perspective on life and the forces that threaten to smother it. Only in a hut of one’s own can a person follow his or her own desires – a rigorous discipline . . . . Here, a person may find one’s very own self, the source of humanity’s song.’

This is all lofty stuff, isn’t it? Well, there’s more. After quoting the academic and professional people who inspire me, I needed something solid, rooted to the earth. I turned to carpenter-philosopher, John Akers. A profoundly wise craftsman, John designed and constructed several sheds that appear in our book’s pages, including four structures for Kathy and Ed Fries and one for Edgar Lee. Here’s what John has to say, quoted in the introduction:

“I’ve seen so many situations where people have slowed down because of adding a shed to their property. They experience something intangible when entering their sheds. Maybe it transports them to a simpler time.”

What this carpenter-philosopher has to say makes a lot of sense. The modern shed may be a purely practical solution that expands the square footage of one’s living space, or it may be a simple sanctuary in the garden. But either way, it is a gift. John sums up his observations with a laugh: “I guess you could say my motto is ‘build a shed and change your life.'”

Amen, brother.

As long ago as the Tong Dynasty (616 to 906), Chinese scholars and poets sought refuge in small, distant places – such as a pavilion – to write, observe nature, and seek understanding.  Powerful and universal is the desire to separate from everyday life for quiet, spiritual, and artistic pursuits.  I was reminded of this notion, one that bridges cultures and centuries, when taking a pre-tour of Liu Fan Yuan, or the “Garden of Flowing Fragrance,” at the Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens, in San Marino, Calif., near Pasadena.

On a crisp, sunny January morning, June Li, Chinese Garden curator, and Lisa Blackburn, Huntington’s communications coordinator, escorted me behind the construction barriers to stroll this magnificent new garden, which opens to the public this weekend.

With an initial phase that includes a 1.5-acre lake, a complex of pavilions, a tea house and tea shop, and five stone bridges, the $18.3 million project has been a decade in the making. It covers about 3.5 acres of a planned 12-acre site.

Amidst architectural majesty of carved stone and wood, handmade roof-tiles, and a dynamic entry wall that undulates like an ancient river, appears the most arresting visual sight: Di Lu Ting, or, the “Pavilion for Washing Away Thoughts.” Other features of this garden are pristine and elegant, but the pavilion is humble by comparison.

The Pavilion for Washing Away Thoughts

This rustic thatched structure, situated a distance from grand pavilions, soaring moon bridges and pebble-patterned courtyards, appears at the edge of a rushing stream in a canyon-like setting. Constructed with traditional post-and-beam craftsmanship, the round, open-air shelter orients its occupant’s eyes upstream, past mature winter-flowering camellias, toward the heart of the Chinese Garden.

A couplet is inscribed in Chinese characters on two wood columns:

“Flowing water can purify the mind; Fragrant mountains are good for quiet contemplation.”

(by Shi Tingquan, also known as Richard Strassberg, professor of Chinese at UCLA)

June Li told me that the 21th century Chinese landscape designers who worked with the Huntington included the thatched-roof pavilion as a symbolic reference to Chinese literary traditions. Ancient poetry and essays, she says, “talk about scholars wanting to retreat to a thatched cottage or pavilion by a stream.”

It is pleasing to see this peaceful, soul-nurturing place at the wilder edges of the Chinese garden. Just viewing it reminds me that my interest in the architecture and design of sheds and hideaways is nothing new. Centuries ago, on another continent far from here, others sought solitude to pursue art and beauty. 

In an article I wrote about the garden for the San Diego Union-Tribune, I ended the piece with this paragraph:

For anyone living in the fast-paced, twenty-first century Western world, time spent in this “living painting” is to be savored. When you visit, perhaps you’ll recall the story Li shares about Tao Yuan Ming, a fourth-century Chinese poet whose favorite flower was the chrysanthemum: “As we all do sometimes, he was frustrated with a life of compromises. So he retired to his garden, which for him was more of a form a protest to uphold his moral principals, rather than just giving up. He desired the ideal of living a simple life.”

“The Shed” is a bimonthly online magazine published by my British shed friend, Alex Johnson. Alex’s Shedworking site is updated daily with news and features about the work-at-home (but in a backyard shed) phenomenon. The site receives more than one thousand hits a day!

This past December, I ran a Q&A with Alex about his popular blog and I learned about his related venture, “The Shed.” In its third year, this mini-magazine has more than 1,500 readers around the world. You can email him at alex.johnson@empathymedia.co.uk to receive a free subscription.

Alex invited Bill Wright and me to be guest contributors to the February 08 issue of “The Shed.” We submitted a piece about one of our favorite shed-makers, Ryan Grey Smith of Seattle-based Modern Shed. Alex’s space was limited, so he had to cut the story it considerably. But just for fun, I want to include the story here in its entirety (below). Bill’s photos illustrate a wonderful backyard escape owned by Irv and Shira Cramer in Berkeley.

Hillside hideaway: Irv and Shira Cramer originally installed a simple backyard structure to give their teenage children a place to escape. Instead, they appropriated the serene, garden getaway for themselves. [William Wright photo]

Shedquarters: An architect’s own tool shed gets dressed up for his clients’ backyards 

Measuring 8-by-6 feet with a starting price tag of around $6,000, Ryan Grey Smith’s Modern Shed is one of the most affordable additions one can make to a house. Except it’s not attached. Smith, a University of Southern California-trained architect who logged years working in the corporate environment, returned to his native

Washington State in 1997. His move was prompted by a chance meeting with the international glass artist Dale Chihuly, another Washington son.

“I ran into him at a lecture and four months later, I was working for Chihuly Studio, running the architecture department,” Smith marvels.

He managed countless Chihuly installations, including “In the Light of Jerusalem” and the “Bridge of Glass” in Tacoma. The job entailed complex layers of project management, lighting design, engineering, site coordination and more.

Designing and installing large-scale installations of Chihuly’s glass sculptures was exciting for the young architect. But after six years, he was ready to work for himself.  In 2003, Smith launched his own architectural firm, Grey Design Studio, continuing the business name that his grandfather Larry Grey, a graphic designer and illustrator, started in the late 1920s. “I wanted to have that family connection in my studio,” says Smith. Much like his mentor Chihuly, Smith blends art and design with a strong entrepreneurial streak. “I started working on local architectural projects, but that expanded to designing furniture and lighting. When I couldn’t find something, I decided to make it myself.”

This problem-solving approach inspired the original shed that Smith created for himself in 2000. He and his wife Ahna Holder, an artist who also trained in architecture, live in an urban Seattle neighborhood. “We don’t have a garage, a basement or an attic and we were struggling with what to do with tools and the lawnmower,”  he says. “We considered something (mass-produced), but those sheds never did much for me. Instead, we wanted something that matched our modern aesthetic.”

Smith designed a 10-by-12 foot box-style structure with a slanted galvanized metal roof, pitched at a 7-degree angle. It had a vinyl tile floor, a single door and an open-air transom around the top. “Originally, I didn’t want any windows, but I gave it a transom opening to allow in light and air for circulation,” he explains. The exterior was finished with 12-inch bands of Hardy board, a concrete-based material that can be painted, attached with exposed fasteners.

Constructed over a few weekends with a limited budget, the shed was “durable, inexpensive and easy-to-build,” Smith says. He set it up in the backyard on deck-style concrete pier footings and filled it with rakes, shovels, paint cans, power tools, the lawnmower, an artificial Christmas tree and the yard waste bin.

A client noticed Smith’s cool shed asked him to upgrade the storage design for a backyard studio. “He worked at home and this offered a great solution,” Smith says. “It solved a space problem for him immediately and he didn’t have to do an addition, which would have been three-times the cost.” It wasn’t hard to convert the tool shed into an office design with the addition of glass in the transom opening, two 30-inch-square crank-windows, and insulated maple plywood walls.

Since then, thanks to interest from editors of design publications and customers who have seen Modern Shed displays at shows like CA Boom, a West coast contemporary art show, the firm has grown from a side venture to a major endeavor, one that Smith juggles with his architecture and product design work. The studio turns out three to four sheds each month, shipping a “kit” containing all the pieces (wall panels, floor, roof, siding, windows, door and assembly instructions) by truck to customers all around the country.

Most clients begin with Modern Shed’s standard design and add custom features, such as French doors, second windows, insulation and paint color. Styles range from children’s play structures and potting sheds to studios and even potential dwelling units (starting at 475 square feet for around $40,000, these are often purchased for vacation property or rental units).

Smith thinks the inherent flexibility of these little buildings has fueled their popularity with artists, writers, musicians, software designers and owners of home-based businesses. “It’s expensive to add onto a house, but these sheds are an easy idea for people to grab onto.”

Functionality aside, Smith acknowledges the emotional attachment people have to a separate backyard structure. “Everyone has a need, whether it’s for a workshop or a getaway. People always connect to the basic sense of shelter, just like when you’re a little kid and you have a playhouse.” 

Resources: Modern Shed, (206) 524-1188
Web: www.modern-shed.com 

 

Reached by descending 25 steps to a garden far below their Berkeley home, the Cramers enjoy this separate and soulful place for music, reading, and conversation [William Wright photo]

 

Snowfall frosts the mountaintop, seen from our neighborhood, January 2008

Southern California has received more than seven inches of rain since the start of the New Year. Apparently, this means our area has been blessed with more precipitation in one month of 2008 than we had in all of 2007!

There is something quite delightful about rain when it arrives. Of course, since this happens ALL THE TIME during Seattle winters, we were once desensitized to the cleansing, refreshing spirit of raindrops, sprinkles, showers, softly-falling mists…whatever you want to call it. Now, though, after living here in SoCal nearly 18 months, we do our little “happy dance” when it rains.

Capturing rain is a top priority for cities in the LA area. That’s because the dense network of urban freeways, streets, sidewalks and patios has created an impermeable surface that repels rainfall, washing it down driveways, curbs, and gutters and dumping it into the street drains. On the way, the water picks up pollutants — motor oil, auto fuel, antifreeze — any number of toxins that cling to the concrete and asphalt. So the relatively clean water falling from the sky becomes a chemical cocktail that eventually pours into drainage systems and dumps into the Pacific Ocean.

Several municipalities have established incentives to help homeowners (and their landscape designers) to capture and retain water falling on their property. One creative solution is to sink an infiltration system into the yard. As precipitation gushes along rooftops, into gutters and downspouts, and across the driveway, it is directed to this underground vessel that holds hundreds of gallons of water. Then the H20 slowly filters into the ground, replenishing the water-table instead of spilling into the street.

A cross-section of an underground infiltration system, designed by Gaudet Design Group

I took a crash course in Rain Management 101 a few weeks ago when the Los Angeles Times asked me to write a story about creative ways to capture excess rainwater.  I met Peter Jensen of Gaudet Design Group in Santa Monica, a landscape designer who specializes in sustainable solutions. Here is a link to the January 17th article called: “Imagine: Rain, Rain, Stored Away.”

Peter makes something completely functional look very appealing. Here is some of his work:

Echeveria “Afterglow”

A Santa Monica front yard: In a space once occupied by thirsty turf, an attractive palette of drought-tolerant plants captures rainwater

On top of the “hidden” in-ground infiltration system, the river-rock is interspersed with Agave americana ‘Varietgata’ and ‘Icee Blue’ spreading juniper (Juniperus horizontalis ‘Icee Blue’)

 

Between “pads” of poured concrete steps, clumps of fescue and dymondia (Dymondia margaretae) encourage rainwater to seep into the ground

Dymondia margaretae cushions the spaces between pieces of broken concrete

 

To passers-by, it looks like a dry creek-bed; but this river-rock entry garden is installed above an in-ground infiltration system

Once a two-car driveway that shed rainwater into city streets, this re-designed drive uses a patchwork of ground-covers and broken concrete to allow rainwater to slowly seep into the ground.

My friend Paula Panich recently shared this passage from Doris Lessing’s 2007 Nobel Prize for Literature speech, presented on December 7, 2007. Lessing urges writers (and, I would imagine, any creative person) to seek a distinct and personal space in which to feel surrounded and enveloped when putting pen to paper. Her admonitions gave me goosebumps. It was if this literary icon was speaking directly to me. There she was, an accomplished and celebrated author, sharing an insight about the practice, the craft, of writing. And what she says — about escaping to that separate place — feels just right. Read an excerpt below:

“Writers are often asked: “How do you write? With a [word] processor? an electric typewriter? a quill? longhand?” But the essential question is: “Have you found a space, that empty space, which should surround you when you write? Into that space, which is like a form of listening, of attention, will come the words, the words your characters will speak, ideas – inspiration.”

If this writer cannot find this space, then poems and stories may be stillborn.

When writers talk to each other, what they ask each other is always to do with this space, this other time. “Have you found it? Are you holding it fast?”

Let us now jump to an apparently very different scene. We are in London, one of the big cities. There is a new writer. We, cynically, enquire… “Is she good-looking?” If this is a man: “Charismatic? Handsome?” We joke, but it is not a joke.

This new find is acclaimed, possibly given a lot of money. The buzzing of paparazzi begins in their poor ears. They are feted, lauded, whisked about the world. Us old ones, who have seen it all, are sorry for this neophyte, who has no idea of what is really happening. He, she, is flattered, pleased. But ask in a year’s time what he or she is thinking. I’ve heard them: “This is the worst thing that could have happened to me.”

Some much-publicised new writers haven’t written again, or haven’t written what they wanted to, meant to.

And we, the old ones, want to whisper into those innocent ears: “Have you still got your space? Your soul, your own and necessary place where your own voices may speak to you, you alone, where you may dream. Oh, hold on to it, don’t let it go.”

For so long, I have had to apologize for wanting to close my office door. Yet having a door is a luxury, considering the place where I used to sit when I wrote. Before moving to my current home nearly a year-and-a-half ago (where my office is a former bedroom with a real door — hinges, knob and lock included), my writing desk resided in a corner of an open loft.

Yes, all three bedroom doors opened onto this space where desk, computer and bookcases were shoved against one wall. This space also contained a futon and a cabinet where the television was hidden. I began freelance writing in earnest when we built this home in 1998, with a one-year-old and a six-year-old nearby. As a writer, I shared this “sacred” space with the children’s play area (in those days, in the late 1990s, I would actually un-plug the phone and fax during nap-time, holding my breath that the UPS delivery guy wouldn’t ring the doorbell and destroy my perfect 90 minutes of quiet!).

My daily view, Lake Washington (1998-2006)

In one sense, I couldn’t complain, because this perch offered me the most dazzling views of second-growth Northwest forest (on a park-peninsula that jutted into Lake Washington), the lake’s ever-changing, but usually grey-blue surface, and the top peaks of the Cascade mountains to the east. How could I whine about my work space when I enjoyed the respite of lifting my eyes away from the computer screen to peer at this gift of nature anytime I needed a pause?

Yet, to use a phrase that novelist Amy Bloom shared with me about her “mom” years as a writer: I was interruptible. Can you imagine being on deadline for an article while also listening to Pokemon cartoons playing in the background? Or trying to conduct a telephone interview while whispering an answer to the daily question: Mom, what can I have to eat? Moms who are attempting to create anything — art, words, a garden — can imagine this.

So yes, I jealously guard my current office with a DOOR THAT CLOSES. I get testy whenever someone enters. There is a comfy futon in here, too, so I occasionally feel like a talk-show host who entertains a steady stream of guest stars…this is usually when one of my guys plops down on those welcoming lime green cushions and wants to talk. But sometimes . . . I just want to lock the door and relish in solitude and the creative atmosphere it produces.

The pursuit of personal, hidden, secluded space for one’s creative endeavors is a thread that runs through my forthcoming book, Stylish Sheds and Elegant Hideaways. While interviewing and photographing locations with my partner Bill Wright, I was so often struck with a sense of awe that the many gifted and talented individuals we profiled trusted us enough to share their “necessary place” with us. They knew we gave respectful attention to their studios, ateliers, nooks and sheds. Regardless of the artistic endeavors that may occur inside the owner’s tiny structure, often measuring just a few hundred square feet in size, we were well aware of the honor and prestige bestowed upon each space. For those whose professional pursuits seem mainstream or decidedly non-artistic, the private, personal space is somehow even more precious: a symbol of time to daydream, ponder and contemplate; to be alone with oneself.

Here are some of the comments we gathered during our interview and photography sessions:

“The real reason my shed exists is so that I can work uninterrupted. There is no phone, no Internet in here.” — Amy Bloom, novelist and creator of Lifetime Network’s ‘State of Mind’

“In designing this studio, my motive was to make it a happy space, because I make happy art.” — Liz Lyons Friedman, printmaker

“Being in the shed makes me feel more connected – and grounded – to the creative forces that simplicity affords. It’s a very practical environment that offers a great escape from all the complexities that surround me.” — Lin Su, designer and painter

“Here’s where I keep everything I want to save and love. This is my little comfort zone, my quiet place.” — Sunni Rudd, illustrator

Another quote from Sunni: “I have a hard time slowing down, but when I come here I want the solitude of my garden shed. It keeps me on an even keel. It keeps me planted.”

“I always wanted to find a place in the country – a retreat. And for years, I had plans for this potting shed in my mind.” — Sylvia Williams, Master Gardener

“People don’t necessarily need more house as much as they need more places to be where they can have fun and utilize their outdoor spaces.” — Kathy Fries, horticulturist

“If I’m inside my shed and it’s raining outside, I feel cozy. On warm days, I pull my chair out to the shed, open the windows and doors, and enjoy the view of my garden.” —Joan Enticknap, banking executive and avid gardener

“It’s so beautiful to be in the little house. We use it in the evenings, on Sunday afternoon when the sun pours in, in the fall when we have a fire going and the doors are open. It’s heaven.” — Anne Kennedy, artists’ agent

“The moment I enter, I’m in a different world.” — Rand Babcock, furniture designer

“It’s intimate; it’s a space that transforms your mood when you enter.” — Tony Nahra, furniture designer

“It’s a lovely place for me to get away. I like to go up there and view the garden; there’s always a nice breeze and I’m away from the phone!” — Patrick Anderson, plant collector and musician

“We’re perfectly aware that we have things to do indoors, but it’s hard to stop being there.” — Beverly Sutton, pediatrician and child psychiatrist

The “space” to which Doris Lessing refers may be a physical space, like a writing studio, sacred and separate. Or, perhaps it is an inner space, the hard-to-explain silence we seek when beginning a writing project. But it is vital and valid, and necessary.

Eat Your Vegetables: Garden to Table [Cindy Combs photograph]

The minute the calendar page turns to the New Year gardeners don’t read: “January.” They read: “Spring.” It’s silly when so many places are still buried in snow, have sub-freezing temperatures, or even worry (as I am) about occasional frost. But we are busy planning our planting schedules.

Until the soil warms up, however, we can take solace in the piles of seed catalogs that fill our mailboxes. To speed up spring’s arrival, we buy tickets to the pre-season extravaganzas: Flower and garden shows. I liken these green celebrations to the “annual meeting” for plant lovers — especially plant lovers who push the envelope when it comes to defining our gardening season.

I’m deep into planning my February and March travel itineraries for taking in the Northwest Flower & Garden Show (February 20-24) and San Francisco Flower & Garden Show (March 12-16), respectively. I’m excited to gain new inspiration for hot plants, cool designs and inspiring lessons from the show gardens. Here’s where I can revel in horticultural happiness with like-minded souls, because seeing friends, of course, is a huge part of the fun.

For months I’ve been hearing from my Seattle garden friends about the flurry of activity surrounding the Northwest Horticultural Society’s display that will (I think) be the educational organization’s largest ever at the Northwest Flower & Garden Show. As a former NHS board member and past editor of the organization’s newsletter, “Garden Notes,” I have a special place in my heart for its people and programs. Through NHS and its members and speakers, I have gained so much knowledge and inspiration over the years.

NHS has sponsored inspiring art- and plant-filled displays in past years. For 2008, NHS president Nita-Jo Rountree tells me the focus will be on edibles. “Eat Your Vegetables! Garden to Table,” promises to be centered around a tasty and inspiring display garden. Actually, THREE edible gardens. When it opens on February 20th, the installation will be a centerpiece of the Washington State Convention Center’s south lobby entrance.  The goal is to demonstrate to showgoers that edible plants are easy to raise, attractive when mixed with ornamentals in the landscape and, with a few simple preparations, ready to go from the garden to the dinner table.

The 1,200-square-foot display will highlight two huge lifestyle trends — growing vegetables and cooking “fresh,” says Nita-Jo. I called her recently to get the inside scoop on how the garden plans are coming together. The design will feature an chef demonstration stage, plus a trio of edible landscapes: A formal French potager, designed by Robyn Cannon (featuring material and ideas from Lucca Statuary and Lakeview Stone); a contemporary container garden, suitable for balcony and rooftop, created by award-winning designer Wendy Welch; and the ideal patio kitchen garden with a “to-die-for” Aqua Quip kitchen and furnishings supplied by Gillian Mathews and Ravenna Gardens.

“Vegetables, fruits and herbs are the rage in gardening right now,” Nita-Jo says. Interest in growing one’s own food is a response to healthy lifestyle trends — a philosophy that excites and inspires novice and experienced gardeners alike, she points out.

“We’ll have organic cooking demonstrations surrounded by ideas for vegetable gardening and seed starting,” Nita-Jo adds. From Ciscoe Morris’s favorite Brussels sprouts to the recipeses of famed chef Jerry Traunfeld, formerly of The Herb Farm, cooking with seasonal and local ingredients will be presented.

Good design is an important element of appealing edible gardens. “We’re going to have a very cool circular stone patio that Lakeview Stone is installing,” Nita-Jo explains. “It will be surrounded by a tapestry of lettuces and strawberries.” Robyn recently shared with me her exploits in procuring 150 “perfect” dwarf boxwoods, which will knit together the intricate parterre for her potager design. All around, this is an ambitious – and delicious – undertaking.

To think that hundreds of tiny plants are needed to create the perfect edible garden is mind-boggling. A review of the list of vegetable seeds started and forced indoors weeks ago reveals the ambitious scale of this endeavor: Lettuces with names like ‘Outredgeous’, ‘Merlot’, ‘Oak Leaf’, ‘Italian Misticanza’, ‘Yugoslavian red butterhead’ and ‘Black Seeded Simpson’; ‘Bright Lights’ and ‘Golden Sunrise’ chard; ‘Grafitti’ cauliflower; ‘Russian Red’ kale; and ‘Ruby’ cabbage. The bounty of the greenhouse also includes aforementioned Brussels Sprouts, plus onions, leeks, rhubarb, chives, parsley, cilantro, sugar pod snap peas, strawberries, rosemary, a bay tree, fig trees, tomatoes, peppers, beets, spinach, and 10 espaliered apple trees!

Creating a Flower Show display garden is nothing short of a labor of love – one that is created to share with thousands of fellow garden-aficionados. For those of us who desire an edible garden, one that feeds and nourishes our bodies and souls, the NHS display will be even more meaningful. Best of luck building your gardens, NHS!

There’s something magical about a plant that keeps growing even after you think it’s a goner. I love seeing new leaves sprout from my just-pruned apple tree branches (I used to stick both ends of the saplings into the soil around the perimeter of my vegetable beds to create low scalloped fencing each spring).

If harvested while its branches are bare, willow (Salix sp.) performs its magic, too. My textile background and my love for any material that can be woven like fabric, combined with my penchant for gardening, has drawn me to supple ingredients like willow. So it’s no surprise that I enjoyed building my own “willow goose” in 2002.

Jacky Barber teaching willow techniques

On a pleasant June evening, I was invited to join members of the Woodinville Garden Club to gather for a willow workshop in Carol Ager’s garden in Woodinville, Wash. This special class was led by two British willow-weavers, Pat Hutchinson and Jacky Barber. Known as “The Willow Weavers,” the duo’s artistic efforts in 2001 won them the coveted Gold Medal at the famed Chelsea Flower Show. The women were in town to teach at the annual Hardy Plant Study Weekend, hosted by the Northwest Perennial Alliance. It was a rare opportunity for about 20 Seattle area gardeners to play with willow, learning Jacky and Pat’s techniques for creating willow animals. Since I wasn’t a garden club member, I considered myself lucky to participate.

Using a “Twisler” tool to tie and secure bent willow

We used fresh willow twigs from Judy Zugish of Marysville’s Bouquet Banque nursery (which also operates a basketry school called FishSticks). Cut in the dormant season, the 5-foot and 7-foot lengths of Salix alba ‘Polish Purple’ branches were soaked in water for five days to make them workable. Jacky and Pat recommended wrapping the branches in damp cloths or plastic sheets to keep them moist while working with them (especially in hot weather).

As we worked in teams to create a larger-than-lifesized goose, heron or swan, the women showed us how to manipulate the willow branches and form animal shapes using tools and wire fasteners. The nifty trick is to use 4-6 inch “wire ties” with a loop at each end. The wire is used in the UK to seal sacks of potatoes and in the US for securing rebar. You can find them at home improvement centers. To join pieces of willow, we used a hand-held tool called the “Twisler” or “Twister.” It hooks into the two loops that have been wrapped around willow bundles. When the tool is pulled, it twists and secures the wire (this tool is available from Stanley Tools). The other useful willow-working tools include pruners for cutting and trimming branches, wire cutters for removing excess wire, string to hold willow sections in shape before they are wired, and measuring tape.

After making the various animal parts — head, neck, body and legs — we used more wire ties to connect them. Playful and perfect for the flowerbed, my completed willow goose stood around 5 feet tall. I stuck the twig “legs” a few inches into the soil and enjoyed watching how the garden began to grow in and around its body.

Inevitably, willow creations are short-lived. Subject to exposure, elemental extremes and the vagaries of time, there is a temporal nature to anything fabricated from twigs and stems. That’s why I was blown away when I saw Patrick Dougherty’s woven twig sculptures.

“Toad Hall,” by Patrick Dougherty

Resembling a whimsical, storybook abode (perhaps an ambitious version of the first Little Pig’s house of sticks?) the large-scale, temporary sculpture Dougherty created for Santa Barbara Botanic Garden in 2005 was a joy to behold. Named “Toad Hall,” it stood in a distant field, beckoning us to come. We were able to touch the twisted branches that formed walls more than 4-inches thick. We walked inside the rounded structures, peered out of the windows to notice the landscape beyond, gazed at the fanciful turret-shaped roof-line against the blue September sky. That I visited the garden and Toad Hall more than a year after Dougherty had created it was a testament to the durability of his creations. That the willow had begun to sprout leaves added a spontaneous twist to the installation.

The building began to “grow” in place, long after the original branches were cut from willow trees

Patrick Dougherty is based in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, but he has a worldwide reputation for creating on-site twig sculptures. Commissions have taken him to Japan, England, Denmark, and countless American cities. Some of his projects look like pieces of tornado-blown tumbleweed, slightly askew, slightly tilted as if they survived the “big one.” Others take advantage of permanent architecture, climbing up the face of a building or weaving in and out of columns. In a book titled “Where there’s a Willow, there’s a Way,” which I picked up at the Santa Barbara Botanic Garden, there are construction process photographs depicting two-story high scaffolding on which he must stand to work at this scale.

“Childhood Dreams,” by Patrick Dougherty – made from willow and creosote, measuring 47-feet high x 12-feet wide x 29-feet deep

Just before Christmas I had an unexpected surprise when I stopped by the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix. I was on a two-day visit to see my folks and sneaked away for a sunny Sunday afternoon visit to the garden, a favorite place of mine. As I walked the loop through the grounds, I could see a willow creation emerge at the edge of my periphery. WOW! Of course, it was another Patrick Dougherty installation, created last year. Called “Childhood Dreams,” the playful project is a series of interconnecting spherical rooms.

You can see a slide show of the 17-day design and installation process featuring Patrick Dougherty on the garden’s web site. It was fascinating to learn that the design was inspired by the rounded forms of golden barrel cactus that grow throughout the botanical garden. Circular “windows” in the rooms are aligned to capture important desert views.

One curator had this to say about Dougherty’s willow sculptures:

“Dougherty’s works allude to nests, cocoons, hives, and lairs built by animals, as well as the man-made forms of huts, haystacks, and baskets, created by interweaving branches and twigs together. Many of his works look ‘found’ rather than made, as if they were created by the natural force of a tornado sweeping across the landscape. He intentionally tries for this effortless effect, as if his creations just fell or grew up naturally in their settings.”

It’s so easy to be drawn into a Patrick Dougherty sculpture because it is, in so many ways, a living, organic expression. Quite humbling, in fact, to see how something so simple, so ordinary (otherwise destined for the compost heap) can be reinterpreted as architecture.

Yesterday, on the first day of the year, my 10-year-old son, Alexander, asked me to tell him my New Year’s resolution. That he posed this question at about 8 a.m. while I was trying to grab a few more moments of a midwinter’s nap after a festive “eve” the night before was only slightly bothersome. His innocence and optimism in the power of a simple turn of the calendar’s page to a new month (and year) was endearing nonetheless.

I didn’t hesitate, but immediately told Alex: my resolution this year is to grow a garden.

It has been 16 months since we’ve been uprooted from our beloved Seattle garden (and home) and suddenly transplanted to Zone 10, Ventura County. We’re living not far off of a freeway exit, half-way between Los Angeles and Santa Barbara. Like the results of a 4-inch perennial that’s been quickly planted in unprepped soil, we’ve experienced some “transplant shock,” so to speak.

Now is the time to begin transitioning from newcomers to neighbors. The change has begun, from discovering the local farmer’s market (thanks to my kind and generous neighbor, Alisa), to attending monthly Southern California Horticultural Society meetings where fellow plant-lovers welcome and include me, to hitting the road touring gardens, nurseries and other horticultural destinations with my Garden Writer pals like Nan, Joan and Paula. There is much here to admire, learn, embrace and even emulate in our suburban backyard.

So the process is underway. It requires a resolution of faith and optimism in order to put aside the “cherished familiar” and begin to look intentionally at the unfamiliar as my own new canvas. It begins with learning how plants grow and survive here in Southern California. Already our yard has begun its return to health because we cancelled the mow-and-blow-and-fertilize service the day we moved in. New layers of organic compost are continuing the process.

Lathyrus odoratus, Early Multiflora Blend and Bouquet Blend

I’m waiting for sweet peas that I planted six weeks ago to bloom and share their perfume (the seedlings are about 8-inches tall and promise to perform once the temperatures warm up).  I’ve ordered way too many seeds and started to lay out the planting beds. 

New Year, New Garden. It’s a hopeful time.

Wow, I’m honored to report that Arthur Lee Jacobson, the tree guru himself, has paid a very high compliment to the late Stephanie Feeney and me for the Northwest Gardeners’ Resource Directory (9th ed.). This book is the “yellow pages” for gardeners in Oregon, Washington and British Columbia that Stephanie started in the 1990s and grew as a self-published reference through eight wonderful editions. We lost Stephanie in 2000, a premature death due to cancer at age 52. Before she died, Stephanie and her husband Larry Feeney sold NWGRD to Seattle-based Sasquatch Books. And thanks to some gentle nudging from Stephanie, Sasquatch editorial director Gary Luke asked me to revised and edit the ninth edition. This was my “first” chance at writing and editing a garden book, published in 2002. I am eternally grateful to my friend Stephanie for believing in me.

Arthur Lee’s periodic newsletters are always filled with useful information about his many writing and consulting projects, including his books, Trees of Seattle 2nd edition (2006) and Wild Plants of Greater Seattle (2001), two amazing references for anyone wishing to learn more about the Emerald City’s flora, native and exotic alike. His latest newsletter, out in late November 2007, included this wonderful entry:

“The top dozen from my library of some 325 PLANT book titles, that I would keep if forced to reduce from 30 feet of shelf space to about 2 feet 8 inches . . . assuming copies of books written by myself could be kept” —

Listed among venerable titles like Hortus Third, American Horticultural Society A-Z Encyclopedia of Garden Plants, Sunset Western Garden Book  and Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs, Arthur Lee has included our directory as a must-have book on his library shelf:

“Northwest Gardeners’ Resource Directory: All Northwest gardeners will find this helpful, though a new edition would be better.”

I agree! It would be ideal to update the reference book that Stephanie spent more than a decade developing and I spent the better part of a year working on, as I updated tens of thousands of entries. But lots has happened since 2002.

First of all, the Internet has made it easier to find nursery and plant sources, public gardens, horticultural organizations, garden tours, retail emporiums and more. Second, because of the Internet, it seems like a directory like ours would be ideally suited for an online database. So how will that happen? I’m open to ideas. For now, Sasquatch Books isn’t particularly inclined to publish an online directory, as it is still rooted in the world of printed books. My thought is to find someone (or a group of someones) interested in creating a new model – and find a way for that group to run the directory as a nonprofit or for-profit web site.

In the meantime, people wishing to send me updates about changes in the Northwest gardening world are invited to fill out a form on my web site. I try to post these changes, including the opening of new nurseries or other changes, on that section of www.debraprinzing.com.

Stephanie Feeney and Debra in Stephanie’s garden on Lake Whatcom, Bellingham, Wash. [Gary Luke photograph]

It puts a smile on my face (and I know Stephanie is smiling up there, too) to know that our friend Arthur Lee still uses his five-year-old version of the Northwest Gardener’s Resource Directory. If his copy is anything like the one on my desk, it is a bit dog-eared, with post-it notes sticking every which way from important pages, and my notations in the margins about special discoveries while traveling the Northwest’s horticultural highways.

Now that I am trying to learn and discover new sources for plants, gardens and tours, I sure could use a directory like ours in Southern California!

P.S. It isn’t fair to end this post without giving you the complete list of Arthur Lee’s “essential” books. His encyclopedic mind is unparalleled. This list will explain in part why I’m so tickled to see our little local directory included:

1. The Standard Cyclopedia of Horticulture,  6 vol. (1914-1917); New York: MacMillan, by Liberty Hyde Bailey.  “The greatest horticultural title ever produced in America. It utterly shames modern works such as the RHS Dictionary of Gardening. Its completeness, erudition, illustration and layout are all superb.
2. Hortus Third (1976); New York: MacMillan, by Liberty Hyde Bailey, revised by L.H. Hortorium Staff. “A scholarly, concise, enumeration of horticultural plants grown in North America, and their myriad names.”
3. Trees and Shrubs Hardy in the British Isles,  8th ed. (1970-1980), 4 vols; London: John Murray; D. L. Clarke, chief ed. “Comprehensive, learned account of cultivated temperate-zone woody plants. Weak in U.S. cultivars.”
4. American Horticultural Society A-Z Encyclopedia of Garden Plants (1997); New York: DK Publishing, by Christopher Brickell and Judith D. Zuk. “Of the clumsily stout and heavy modern encyclopedic books packed with color photos, I prefer this.”
5. Landscape Plant Problems: A Pictorial Diagnostic Manual,  3rd ed. (2006); Puyallup, WA: Washington State University Cooperative Extension, by Ralph Byther et al. “Color photos of Western Washington common garden plant bugs and diseases. When consulting, I use the photos to show clients. Once one learns the problem’s name, then other sources suggest actions. (You can buy this at South Seattle Community College’s bookstore).”
6. Cornucopia II: A Source Book of Edible Plants,  2nd ed. (1998); Vista, CA: Kampong Publications, by Stephen Facciola. “The most practical and handy book to learn about edibility of plants, and their availability.”
7. Northwest Gardener’s Resource Directory,  9th ed. (2002); Seattle, WA: Sasquatch Press, by Stephanie Feeney (ed. Debra Prinzing). “All Northwest gardeners will find this helpful, though a new edition would be better.”
8. The Plant Locator(R) Western Region (2004); Portland, OR: Black-Eyed Susan Press and Timber Press, by Susan Hill and Susan Narizny. “The quickest way to learn about commercial availability of garden plants. More than 60,000 plants included.”
9. Hillier Manual of Trees and Shrubs,  7th ed. (2002); Newton Abbot, England: David & Charles, John Hillier and Allen Coombes. “Useful one-volume, compact and comprehensive list of cultivated temperate-zone woody plants. Weak in U.S. cultivars.”
10. The Plant Book: A Portable Dictionary of the Vascular Plants,  2nd ed. (1997); Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press, by D. J. Mabberley. “By far the best one-volume source to look up any plant family of genus. Small, dense and invaluable.”
11. New Flora of the British Isles,  2nd ed. (1997); New York: Cambridge University Press, by Clive Stace. “The best botany book to identify non-native plants growing wild in the Seattle area. Richly complete; over 1,000 pages.”
12. Sunset Western Garden Book,  8th ed. (2007); Menlo Park, CA: Sunset Publishing Corp., Kathy Brenzel, editor. “All western North American gardeners should own this. Every edition gets better.”