October 21st, 2008
Dare we call it a “Stone Shed”?
Does the idea of hanging moss, dripping water and a dark, quiet enclosure come to mind? Call it a cave, cavern or hollow and you’re getting close to both the ancient and modern-day descriptions of this sheltered stone destination in the cultivated or wild landscape.
If you’re following my ongoing Glossary of Garden Architecture, check out this just-added “definition” of a Grotto.
October 18th, 2008
Here’s how “Seeing the Light,” my story in today’s Los Angeles Times’ HOME section begins:
When Alan Smart was a kid, he discovered an old trunk in an antique store and begged his mother to buy it. She refused (after all, he was 10). So young Alan spent $45 from his allowance to purchase the trunk himself.
“I like old-timey things,” Smart says in his retro Hawaiian-print shirt and board shorts, gesturing to his living room filled with restored antique armchairs and vintage California tile tables.
This is a story that underscores my belief that we can both possess a home and be possessed by it. It’s about how Alan and his partner Michael Uhlenkott transformed a nondescript 1930s Spanish Revival bungalow in an aging Los Angeles neighborhood into a showpiece for decorative arts and their amazing collection of early California pottery, tile, furniture, paintings, figures, and lighting. It’s about how their personalities and preferences are revealed through their choices of color, textiles and artwork.
Alan and Michael are artists of the highest order. If there is a surface to embellish, they will find a way, even if it means spending endless hours standing on ladders to hand-stencil the stucco ceiling with a Moorish pattern or antiquing the walls with layers of glazing, rag-application and dry brush painting techniques.
They design with a respect for the past, an appreciation for craftsmanship and materials, and a lighthearted sense of irony. There is no halfway effort here. Everything relating to a genre, period or style is explored, honed, refined and reinterpreted. There’s such an honesty and authenticity to each decision to adorn and decorate. I love every detail!
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October 16th, 2008
Our beloved Seattle bungalow, updated from its 1924 origins
My interest in garden design from the American Arts and Crafts era is connected with the affection we have for a 1924 Seattle Craftsman bungalow, which my husband and I bought in 1996.
The one-story house, about 1,100-square-feet in size, was painted light gray. With faded white trim, it was not much to look at, as it had been a rental house for so many years (seen at right). On our first visit, we ignored the sofa on the front porch (below, left) and instead gazed at the breathtaking views of Lake Washington, the Cascade Mountains, Seward Park and Mount Baker.
Thus began our love affair with Craftsman architecture. We wanted to expand the house while also preserving its character. My husband Bruce met Toby Taylor of Caledonia Bay Builders after previously seeing his work and tracking him down through a real estate agent
Toby (seen below, right) and Bruce hit it off immediately, an almost unheard of phenomenon between a builder and a potential client who is also a lawyer. Toby introduced us to Robin Abrahams, a Seattle architect who he described admiringly. We were impressed when Toby told us that Robin was “way cool.”
Miraculously, we went with our “gut” feelings and hired them both (this was highly rare for my lawyer-husband, who typically would have insisted on competitive bids from three candidates). We’d heard all the horror stories. Nearly everyone we knew who had restored, renovated or built a home was unenthusiastic about the process, or about their contractor, or about their architect.
But our little project was blessed. We adored Robin and her colleagues at Abrahams Architects. She is a bundle of creative energy, a thoughtful, very smart, incredibly gifted designer. We also loved Toby’s verve, his hard-working, can-do attitude, and his often amusing ski-bum vocabulary.
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October 11th, 2008
I have my father to thank for my two-day trip to Modesto earlier this week. That’s because a year ago, as my folks were driving from Seattle to Phoenix, they stayed overnight at the home of Sue and Jerry Houser in Modesto, California. Like my parents, the Housers belonged to an informal bed-and-breakfast club. You pay some kind of nominal fee to join and receive a directory of hosts who will give you a room for the night, plus breakfast. My affable dad was seated in Sue Houser’s family room and he noticed all her gardening books and magazines. “My daughter writes about gardens,” he offered.
Turns out, Sue is the program chair for the Modesto Garden Club, one of the largest clubs I’ve ever encountered (it was founded 81 years ago and has more than 600 members)! How’s that for serendipity?
The next thing I know, Dad’s on the phone to me, introducing me to Sue. Several phone calls and emails later, she invited me to come speak to her club. That’s the two of us pictured above, standing in the foyer of the garden club’s beautiful office in a renovated cottage (seen at right).
I began my trip on Tuesday, driving to Bakersfield, which is 120 miles northbound on Interstate 5. I parked my car at the Amtrak station there and hopped the San Joaquin line (which begins in Bakersfield and continues to Sacramento or Oakland). I passed the 3-1/2 hour train trip quite pleasantly, looking out the window at the changing scenery, much of it agricultural (mostly corn fields and pecan orchards), napping, reading, and relaxing. My cell phone was turned off, ensuring that I really could “unplug” for a little while.
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October 10th, 2008
A late September afternoon along Independence Creek, with the Sierras in the distance, at the Mary DeDecker Native Plant Garden, Eastern California Museum, Independence, California
I’m paraphrasing here, but that saying about how we understand the future if we learn from the past came to mind when I attended part of the California Garden and Landscape History Society’s annual meeting.
The conference was held in Lone Pine, California (about 250 miles north of my home on Ventura Co. – toward the high desert, the Eastern Sierras, and the west entrance to Death Valley). Its theme: “Spirit of Landscape: California’s Lower Owens River Valley.”
The event attracted me because dear friend and writing mentor Paula Panich was on the program to give a lecture about the writer and pioneer woman Mary Austin. She titled her talk: “Beauty and Madness and Death and God: Mary Austin’s Land of Little Rain.”
Why do we pursue such impetuous, insensible decisions as to drive 250 miles on a Saturday morning in order to get to a friend’s 1-hour lecture? It’s actually easy to explain, because the fabric of my life is woven with such spontaneous decisions. If I didn’t make these sudden journeys (to fly to Seattle for Braiden’s book-launch; to take the bus to the end of the line and visit Skip and Charles in Orient, NY; to drive to the mountains for Paula’s birthday celebration) what else would I be doing anyway? Shopping for groceries, paying bills, folding laundry?
A fellow conference participant, Liz Ames, pauses to observe the not-so-distant Sierra Nevada range
We often remember the glimmering highlights that punctuate the rough textures of everyday life; they are the peaks that even out the valleys, comforting us. Don’t get me wrong. Usually, I love my life and the choices I’ve made. I float through it observing all the blessings I have with my marriage, my children, my home, my safe existence. But sometimes . . . different seasonings need to be tasted. Gardens, friends, excursions…provide the unexpected flavors to our regular diet of normalcy.
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October 4th, 2008
If you’re seeking creative inspiration, or need a gift idea for that crafty person in your life, look no further than Salvage Studio of Seattle.
My pals Beth Evans-Ramos, Lisa Hilderbrand and Amy Duncan share a “lust for rust” in their pursuit of sustainable design (to them, this means “reduce, reuse and recycle”) for the home, garden, and more. They teach classes at their studio in Edmonds, Washington, and frequently publish an idea-filled blog, also called Salvage Studio.
Just out, their new book, “The Salvage Studio: Sustainable Home Comforts to Organize, Entertain and Inspire” (Skipstone Books/Mountaineers, $21.95), is a compendium of the best salvage projects created and collected by these three gals over the past few years.
Imagine my delight when my review copy of The Salvage Studio arrived a few weeks ago. The attractive 8-1/4-inch x 9-1/4-inch book contains 200 gorgeous pages of great design ideas, tips for turning discarded items into decorative accents, step-by-step projects and more. I turned to the Acknowledgements page to find a thoroughly unexpected gift from the authors:
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