March 20th is a magical day for me – the Spring Equinox and the day of my son Alexander’s birth. Today he turns eleven! Like me, he is a Pices, arriving at the last possible moment of this sign.

My friend Scott Eklund, now a photographer for the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, took this “flower baby” portrait of Alex in the fall of 1997 when we were shooting a holiday brochure at Emery’s Garden

I take pleasure in the fact that my first child was born on the Summer Soltice and my second child was born on the day when spring arrives (today!). It feels symbolic and life-affirming in so many ways, especially for a mother whose creative expression occurs in and around the garden. My sons, so special and yet very different from one another, are growing up. Oh, for a time-lapsed movie of their young journey to date. In my memory, my mind’s eye, I can actually see them growing: their legs and arms lengthening; their shoulders broadening. In the stories my husband and I retell one another, we roll back the tape and hit the pause button to watch it over and over again. Remember when….?

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A little piece I wrote for the Los Angeles Times appears today under the banner: Breathing Room.

If you read my “willow” post in January, you’ll know why I so enjoyed composing a short essay about environmental artist Patrick Doughterty’s new Los Angeles County Arboretum & Botanical Garden installation. Called “Catawampus,” the willow sculpture opened on February 24th.

Here is my essay in its entirety. The Times had to cut it for space, which is fine. I like it both ways. Read the published version by clicking here: Branching In.

Willow wisdom

Standing in a distant field, looking like child’s building blocks tossed here by giant hands, the assemblage of woven-willow cubes and rectangles conveys kinetic energy.

Aptly named ‘Catawampus’ by creator Patrick Dougherty, it is slightly askew, beckoning me to draw near.

Taller than a house, the installation is situated away from the main path at the Los Angeles County Arboretum & Botanic Garden. I approach, noticing how sunlight slips between open spaces formed by the warp and weft of twigs. The tactile quality of each thread-like branch appeals to me: the in-and-out, the over-and-under. I run my hand along the twisted surface, marveling at the density of four-inch-thick walls. My fingers stroke pussy willow-like tips, velvet against the rough twig bark. The structure looks spontaneously woven, as if beavers gathered the arboretum’s fallen branches after a windstorm and built themselves a fanciful dam.

Like a sophisticated student of art, I try to mentally deconstruct the organic sculpture. Is it a modernist bird’s nest? Is it a commentary on the fragile balance between nature and architecture? Or is pure folly, meant only to delight the eye?

 The tilted branch-blocks rest on ottoman-like cushions of willow. I enter and move from one interconnected space to the next. Peering out of the window openings, I glimpse a maple tree, its new green leaves about to unfurl. Through another portal in the gray-and-brown twig wall I see an early-blooming magnolia. A “skylight” at the top brightens the dark interior with spring’s pure blue sky.

It’s easy to be lured into Dougherty’s rooms, made from saplings grown by the Willow Farm in Pescadaro. Even though the primitive chambers are penetrated by air, light and sound, they feel safe and separate. Time stands still, at least for a few moments.

Solid-looking, yet impermanent. In the end, it is simply a series of large forms, fashioned from ordinary willow otherwise destined for the compost heap. But it gives me quiet comfort.

Catawampus by Patrick Dougherty runs through 2009 at the Los Angeles County Arboretum, 301 North Baldwin Ave., Arcadia, (626) 821-3222 or www.arboretum.org.

I traveled last month to Seattle’s fabulous Northwest Flower & Garden Show, spending a week in my beloved former city absorbing the magical effect of rare February sunshine filtered through a dewy atmosphere. Here is a field report of some of my favorite gardens at the show:

Stained chocolate brown, a sleek, 10-by-15 foot “slat house” provides a sense of shelter while allowing views into and out of the room-like space.

The cool-blue palette appears in large-scale urns.

Silver and blue-grey foliage defines a monochromatic design by Tami Ott-Ostberg

I enjoyed serving as a judge for Seattle Homes & Lifestyles’ “First in Home and Design 2008” award, an honor given to the best example of residential garden design. I evaluated more than 25 display gardens with publisher Jill Mogen, editor Giselle Smith, art director Shawn Williams, and assistant editor Lindsey Rowe. Unanimously, we selected “Garden Getaway,” created by Tami Ott-Ostberg of Garden Dreams Design, and Ian Wilson of Outdoor Living Environments. With a fashion-forward aqua-and-brown palette, the two interpreted an interior design aesthetic for the landscape.

My shed obsession was satisfied when I viewed “Sommarstuga: Summer Living, Simply and Sustainably,” a fantastic take on a Swedish summer cottage (see above), designed by Janine Anderson and Terry LeLievre for the Washington State Nursery & Landscape Association. How fitting that Sunset magazine selected this garden for its award. Here’s what the designers had to say: “Similar to the Northwest, Sweden has short summers and long summer days. Swedes often spend their summers in simple, airy cottages . . . . Though such a retreat might sit on an island in the Stockholm archipelago, it could just as easily straddle rocks on a Northwest promontory. . . .wherever it sits, a Sommarstuga is an icon of summer living.”

corn and sunflowers rooted in the roof of an arbor

edibles planted in the roof of the chicken coop

I was thrilled to learn that judges for Pacific Horticulture, the awesome journal for Western gardeners, gave the nod to “A Backyard Farm: Urban Agriculture in the Northwest.” Designed by Colin McCrate and Brad Halm of Seattle Urban Farm Co., the garden featured a vegetable patch, mini orchard and chicken coop, an illustration of how a Seattle resident might bring the concept of urban agriculture to their own backyard. The open kitchen situated next to the garden emphasizes the connection of the landscape to the dinner table. The inclusion of traditionally rural elements (chickens, corn stalks, sunflowers and more) in an urban setting shows how a small but functional garden space can also be beautiful. 

Robyn Cannon’s edible parterre, created with Lucca Statuary

 

Ravenna Gardens’ Northwest-style courtyard

Wendy Welch’s urban terrace

Kudos to Northwest Horticultural Society and its members, volunteers and president Nita-Jo Rountree for pulling off an inspiring educational display called “Eat Your Vegetables: Garden 2 Table.” Each of three designers showed how edibles can be beautiful elements of residential garden design. I loved it!

“To be happy at home is the ultimate result of all ambition, the end to which all enterprise and labour tends.”

—Samuel Johnson, 1750

I’ve been meditating on the notion of home this week, trying to figure out if it’s possible to possess more than one.

And I don’t mean having a second home in the mountains or at a lake (that vacation cabin of our fantasies), but what this question really gets to is whether my heart can be at peace when it lives in two places even though I’m only physically in one of them.

It’s funny how frequently the word “home” appears in our lives. And how many different synonyms we use to describe it (nest, shelter, cocoon, cave, abode, roost, maison, house, castle, my place…..).

Last night, my son’s high school choir staged an ambitious “Singing Waiter Dinner,” during which some very talented teenagers sang — and served dinner to — parents and friends, while also raising funds to pay for their spring performance trip to Boston. The theme of “home” appeared in at least a half-dozen of the numbers: ballads, show tunes, hot songs that teenagers are listening to right now, and even an original song written and performed by one of my son’s fellow choir members. Home is on our minds, whatever our age.

So while in Seattle for the Northwest Flower & Garden Show last week, the notion of home occupied my thoughts. My heart is invested in that city, the city of my college years, our early (pre-children) married life, my many professional iterations, my multiple newspaper, magazine and book projects, the home Bruce and I made for ourselves, with our fabulous architect and builder friends, and the garden I planted and cared for, and loved. This, I thought, was “home.” The place I left 18 months ago for S. California, which was decidedly “not home.”

I remember my first return trip in February 2007, when I flew to Seattle for the flower show and spent five days pretty much on the verge of tears. I stood up on the podium to lecture and was so overwhelmed at the sight of friends and their dear faces in the audience – people who I considered my community – that my eyes welled up and I had to pull myself together in order to give that talk. It was a tough trip because I’d only been away for six months and I felt as if I had been exiled to an alien land.

This time, the story was different. I guess that extra 12 months of familiarizing myself with a new landscape – literally and figuratively – started changing my idea of “home.” During a completely self-indulgent week in Seattle when I left my family behind in order to have long, uninterrupted adult conversation, hug and laugh with friends, inhale the fragrances of wet earth and feast my eyes on plants I can no longer grow, I finally realized that I was kind of just a visitor. Life continues, but it changes. And you know, that’s okay. And for the most part, even though we miss one another, my friends would rather know that we’re happy, adjusting, getting connected and making a good life here in LA. They don’t really want to hear that we’re miserable, lonely, and lost in this land.

And the good news is that we’re not lost. I’m surprised every day about the experience of living here. I never could have imagined feeling “at home” in a new city and state. But it’s happening, thanks to kindred spirits who have adopted me and taken me on plant-and-garden lovers’ field trips, and shared their passion for this place with me. Sandy, a talented designer who I met through a mutual Seattle friend, laughed at me recently, saying: “You’re like a tourist – you get excited about everything new!” I guess I can thank my insatiable curiosity for helping deepen my affection for my new surroundings.

After returning on an early morning Seattle-to-Burbank flight last Saturday, I wrote this email note to a friend: “Being in Seattle last week was the first time I realized that it is no longer my home, but a beloved place that I cherish in my heart. Home is now in Southern California, and after a week of playing in Seattle, I was ready to get back here.”

Yesterday, after playing catch with my dog at the ocean and filling my pockets with bits and pieces of seashells, smooth glass and pottery that dotted the sand, after touring a favorite display garden where the hot orange South African aloes were in bloom, and enjoying brilliant conversation over lunch with Paula, another writer exiled in L.A. (from Boston), I realized what a gift it is to be given a “new home,” even one that I didn’t realize I wanted.

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]

 

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.

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.”

During our many road trips to produce Stylish Sheds and Elegant Hideaways, I