Source: http://www.intercontinentalgardener.com/2011/05/
Timestamp: 2019-04-19 12:19:58+00:00

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Belltown P-Patch garden is a haven even for some smaller inhabitants; this little bird was busy feeding her noisy chicks inside the house... (perching on the flower stake with a duck).
Make no mistake: Seattleites are one eco-friendly bunch of people. They bike (or at least drive a hybrid), and with their fleeces and sensible shoes, they generally look like they would just be heading off for a tough hike somewhere off the beaten tracks. They recycle religiously, use their own latte mugs instead of disposable ones, and eat organic food, preferably bought at the local farmers markets. So it is no surprise that growing one's own food is hugely popular here, and living in the middle of the city can do nothing to curb that passion.
Entrance to the garden, with a solar-powered fountain and mosaics by local artists.
For the moment, the city of Seattle has totally 73 community gardens where urban gardeners can get their nails dirty. Since the early 1990s, the number of gardens have more than doubled, but this hasn't been enough to satisfy the eager growers; at the same time, the queue for allotments has more than doubled, too; in the most popular gardens you now need to wait over three years for a lot. In Seattle, community gardens are called P-Patch gardens after the first of them, Picardo Farm, which was bought by the city in 1973 and rented as allotments for the citizens. Belltown P-Patch is from the mid-90s. It is the most urban of the P-Patch gardens, situated just a stone's throw from the business district of Seattle city centre.
A salmon-colored aquilegia in full bloom.
Only three of the original cottages are left, showing the scale of the city for a century ago. Two of these now are appointed for writers-in-residence from the Hugo House Writers Centre, the third is for community gatherings.
Belltown P-Patch has a decidedly arty air, with works by many local artists enhancing the garden. Many of the works are both beautiful and practical, like the great welded entry gate and the elaborate railings around the garden. Colorful mosaics fill the heavy retaining walls that are indispensable for keeping the soil in place. Many of the urban farmers have kept to the same theme, filling their lots with re-purposed objects, all arranged according to their personal tastes.
Delicately stripy fava beans need more sun and warmth to develop their delicious pods.
Surrounding high-rises; the garden is an oasis for local residents and people working in the city centre alike.
For many Europeans, United States unfortunately stands for all things fast and big - junk food, high energy consumption and water usage just to mention some. But community gardens like Belltown P-Patch are the antithesis of all that, and they show the other side of US that seldom gets into the spotlight abroad. With urban farming gaining momentum and farmers markets popping up everywhere, ecological thinking and great concern for nature and food are growing like a great wave all over the country. Is tremendously exciting to see how committed and engaged people are to making things better. Jamie Oliver got colossal attention when he took his Food Revolution- show to the US last year. But in Seattle, and many other parts of the country, Americans were well on their way towards healthier food and lifestyle long before he crossed the Atlantic.
Open to the public, 2516 Elliott Avenue, Seattle.
Doublefile viburnum, Viburnum plicatum var. tomentosum 'Snowflake', a sculptural, layered shrub with creamy-white lacecap flowers.
Viburnum opulus 'Roseum' and the wild species, V. opulus; both are great, large shrubs for the wilder parts of the garden.
With its mild climate, the Pacific Northwest is a heaven for growing almost any of the around 180 species of Viburnums. One of the oldest garden varieties is the snowball tree, or V. opulus 'Roseum'; it has been deservedly popular in European gardens since the 17th century. I've always loved the creamy lime-color of the unfurling globes of flowers. This and the wild species called European cranberry bush, V. opulus, are both great transition plants between the more formal and informal parts of the garden, or as in my garden in Sweden, where the forest takes over. The birds love the opulus-berries which is a bonus.
The highly fragrant flowers of Viburnum x Burkwoodii. It is semi-evergreen in cold climates.
Of the sweetly fragrant ones, V. x bodnantense 'Dawn" is one of the earliest to flower, starting in November or December and continuing until late February in these mild climates. Later in March or April, V. x Burkwoodii has a similar scent, reminding of both lilacs and lily-of-the-valleys at the same time. I had a large, old specimen in my garden in Melbourne and I loved coming home through the garden gate as my Burkwoodii gave me a scented welcome in early spring.
V. rhytidophyllum, an evergreen viburnum for milder climates. A bit coarse-looking, but a great background for other plants.
Most of the evergreen ones are too fragile for Scandinavia, where only the toughest like V. 'Eskimo' are semi-evergreen at their best, just like the scented V. x Burkwoodii above. In my present garden, I grow several other tough viburnum species, like the leatherleaf viburnums V. davidii and V. rhytidophyllum. None of them are really exciting, but they offer a great year around structure and background in the garden.
Viburnum plicatum tomentosum 'Mariesii', here in my neighbor's garden in Seattle.
If I should name my favorite Viburnum (besides the old-fashioned snowball tree that I have loved since I was tiny), it probably would be the doublefile viburnum, V. plicatum tomentosum. It has a great sculptural, layered form and clean, white flowers that hover elegantly above the sligthly veined leaves. 'Mariesii' is one of the best cultivars, with slender, arching stems; it needs space around it and preferably a darker green background to be appreciated properly. But I'd rather not to be restricted to only one cultivar, as there are such a variety of great plants to choose from.
One clover and a bee, and revery.
Today, bees are few, but luckily, there's enough clover to make a whole prairie. I just love Emily's writing.
Lately, I've been drawn to plants with less than obvious charms. Certainly, I do enjoy a gorgeous flower, but subtle nuances rather than explicitness increasingly catch my attention.
I guess the buttercup winterhazel, Corylopsis pauciflora, is an excellent example of a plant that I'd probably had walked past for ten years ago, not really noticing its many merits... Its buttery, delicately scented flowers appear in mid-winter like tiny lanterns hanging from its bare branches. After they fade in late March or April, its bright green, pleated leaves unfurl and reveal their elegant, burgundy edges; I think they are even more striking that its flowers. Slowly, its slender branches grow into a sculptural vase-formed shrub that seldom exceeds breast height. This winterhazel looks striking with early spring ephemerals, like cyclamen, Helleborus, snowdrops and crocuses.
Maybe it's my age (somewhere in the middle of life, with a bit of luck...), but there's something soothing to realize that it is not only about the grandifloras, but that the paucifloras can have just as much to give.
Photographed at the Elisabeth C. Miller Botanical Garden, May 5th 2011.
I've been doing so little in my garden that I shouldn't even call myself a gardener anymore... Maybe it's the chilly weather, or maybe something else that I don't really want to define for the moment.
Anyway, I decided to make amends, weeding myself through the worst parts of the borders. I found dozens of alert little baby Irises that had self-seeded into all the wrong places but were too cute to be tugged out; and then, these two love birds, cooing soft little nothings to each other... Spring is definately in the air, not even the freezing cold can hold it back now.
Asked to write about the garden of Seattle artists Nancy Mee and Dennis Evans, I was invited to their home and garden last Friday. The visit has kept my thoughts occupied ever since. Filled with art by themselves, their artist friends and artisans from faraway cultures around the world, Nancy's and Dennis's home, ateliers and garden were a visual and intellectual synthesis that merged their passions, interests and work into one seamless, harmonious whole.
Nancy and Dennis have been living and making art in their Utopian Heights Studios in the Bryant-Assumption neighborhood in Seattle since 1976. Both are successful, well-established artists - Nancy a sculptor and Dennis a painter - and their creativity touches everything around them.
Nancy and Dennis believe that art is about sharing. Around their home and ateliers, they have put this belief into practice, transforming their garden, the surrounding parking strips and an adjacent lot into the Utopian Heights Neighborhood, complete with a very official-looking (but unofficial) sign stating the name. Here, forty bright pink Prunus 'Thundercloud' trees, carefully selected stones and sculptures, bronze plaques with philosophical passages and minimalistic benches offer nourishment and rest for the eyes, minds and legs of the occasional passers-by and residents of the area.
On the parking strips, Dennis has placed several, beautiful limestones from North Dakota. These were formed and partly turned into marble by high pressure under the snow masses during the ice-age. They form contemplative focal points and invite to touching and closer examination, evoking thoughts of petrified trees or waterfalls. A seasonal dial (instead of a sun dial) tells when it is time to celebrate the spring and autumn equinoxes, or summer and winter solstices, and sometimes Nancy and Dennis arrange a celebration together with their neighbors. Along the sidewalks, Dennis's bronze plaques bear messages like "A permanent state of transition is man's most noble condition" or "The wise man changes his mind - the fool, never"; a gentle poke on the minds of even the most hurried walkers.
From the sidewalk, there is an opening into the Garden of Souls, a secluded garden that is open to the public. Here, in a setting of several small rooms filled with plants and water features, Nancy's large glass and metal sculptures meet the visitors, looking like beautiful hybrids between ancient Japanese Torii-gates and sea marks that radiate both strength and fragility at the same time.
The Garden of Souls was begun - inadvertently, as Nancy and Dennis say - on September 11, 2001, and it was completed within six weeks out of pure frustration with the acts of terror happening that day. It has evolved during the bygone decade, with Dennis planting and shaping the structure and Nancy working with the sculptures, but it still functions as a place for contemplation and reflection, and as a memorial for all souls that were lost - or passed forward, as Dennis and Nancy say - during that single day.
In their neighborhood park, Nancy and Dennis have even included a small, wooden shrine, where passers-by can leave their thoughts and prayers. These are gathered and burned every six months, and so joined with the universe. Small presents are often left on the little altar, and someone even carried a bright green Buddha here; now, it welcomes visitors with a broad smile among the lush ivy under the altar. The most private and touching little notes filled the shrine when I visited, reminding of the deep need of spirituality in our daily lives. And maybe the park and shrine are especially protected, as they so far have been safe from graffiti and other foul deeds.
As number three of Dennis's bronze plagues by the sidewalk says: "Be happy with what you have and are, be generous with both, and you won't have to hunt for happiness." In my mind, no-one fulfills that better than Nancy and Dennis themselves, who are happily doing what they love and so generously sharing it all with us others.
More about Nancy's and Dennis's art: Utopian Heights Studios.

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