91st Street Garden, redux

Last July, I speculated that the garden at 91st Street in Riverside Park would look terrific in May. This week I took a bike ride up that way to find out.

While it may not have been *flooded* with spring color, the garden was quite lovely and had many species in bloom.


Next week I'll highlight a few of the perennials there. In the meantime, I'll show a few plants that I've already covered in blog posts past. First up, Aquilegia species and hybrids:




This one below is a native columbine, Aquilegia canadensis:


A great looking bearded iris (Iris germanica):


And finally, a white ('Alba') hybrid of bleeding heart (Dicentra spectabilis):


I'll cover the Clematis to the right of the bleeding heart next week. Enjoy the Memorial Day weekend!

Albert's Garden

I have been walking past this tiny community garden on 2nd street quite a bit lately and finally stopped to take a photo yesterday morning.

I was struck by the ragged beauty of this redbud.


The rest of the modest garden is lovely, with a huge mass of bleeding heart in the very background. Forget the tulips and cherry trees, a booming redbud and Dicentra spectabilis is incontrovertible evidence that spring is, finally, upon us.

Hardy Cyclamen

I have been haunting the entry of the M'finda Kalunga Community Garden for several weeks now -- hoping to get inside their gates when it is still actually light out. But I've had little luck -- I find myself at work or otherwise busy during any of the daytime hours that the garden is open to the public. The reason I have been so desperate to visit is because I can see a wee patch of hardy cyclamen (Cyclamen hederifolium) blooming through the fence.


I finally gave in and took a photo of it, employing every bit of zoom that my camera would allow.

This is a sweety, dainty bulb that is hardy to zone 5 and blooms for up to two months each autumn. Cyclamen is derivative of the Greek work 'kyklos,' which means wheel or circle, and refers to the twisted flower stems of some Cyclamen species. Hederifolium refers to the variegated foliage of this plant which, thanks to my unfortunate schedule, is difficult to see in this photo.

Serviceberry

I have raved enough about Amelanchier -- both A. arborea and A. canadensis -- that I don't really need to make this a long post.

But I did need to point out it's terrific fall color.


These are from one of my favorite parts of Battery Park -- it's the Cove area, which is just near the southernmost tip of the park. That's Gleditsia bark in the foreground.

Serviceberries aren't always yellow -- some specimens have an orangey-red fall color and some are even darker red.

Fontainebleau

I try to keep these posts seasonal, so I have been waiting for autumn to arrive before posting any photos of my trip to Fontainebleau last October.


Fontainebleau Palace is a short train ride away from Paris, and is one of the larger French chateaux. It abuts the Fontainebleau forest, and thus was a popular destination for royals to hunt game.


The site demonstrates most of the classical design fundamentals you would experience in the more famous chateaux of Versailles or Vaux le Vicomte.


Long allees or canals are sited on axis with fountains and other similar punctuation marks.



There's a very clear line between the landscape that has been contained or controlled by man and the woods that are kept at bay beyond.


And of course, sculpture and topiary -- essentially a sculpture of plants -- are utilized in the formal gardens.

Finally, tiers of varying elevation create the experience of limitless landscape.


It's a beautiful landscape and on the other side of the chateau more intimate gardens exist, complete with plant ID tags, which is always helpful when you are among potentially unfamilar plants.

More of the Getty Center

Here are a few additional shots from the Getty -- primarily of design details that I liked, or at least thought were worth noting.

The entry fountain:

A water feature running along the steps that led to the main entrance:

One of the things I love to do speculate about what design revisions have taken place after a site has been occupied for a while. I would bet you that the potted flowers at the landing was an add-on. Without it there, you could step over the fountain and into a small landscaped area. I am sure this was unintended and the pot was placed there to make access prohibitive.

The lawn areas were in great shape -- they must have a terrific grounds supervisor and irrigation system. You can also see more corten steel retaining walls. It makes a nice edge for the lawn.

Of course, we have those...things...in the background...

Ugh. These bougainvillea planters were, to me at least, just awful. They remind me the parachute drop in Coney Island, but not at all in a good way. They're so clunky and heavy. And then the edging around the teardrop shaped planter looks like it came from Home Depot.

On the bright side, you have the soaring cafe space.


Another view from a courtyard.

There seemed to be a fair amount of James Turrell-like moments of framed sky.


Along these steps you have a clean-looking sandwich-style detail for the rail posts.

Though I still don't know why, when dealing with a contemporary vocabulary, you need to powder-coat steel. It always ends up rusting and becoming a maintenance problem. Especially when the galvanized steel on the top rail looks so good.


And here, we have my absolute favorite part:


How absolutely luscious is that floating walkway? Great big slabs of stone that are seemingly floating, with no visible construction detail holding them together, let alone aloft. Gorgeous!

Getty Center

Last Sunday, I was able to visit the Getty Center in Los Angeles. Robert Irwin, an artist, was responsible for the landscape design and I'm always curious to see how someone who is not an landscape architect approaches a design.

Below is a google earth image of the garden -- for orientation.

The Getty sits on a hilltop in the northeast end of Los Angeles. The Irwin garden focuses primarily on a walk downhill, along the south slope. Water leads you from the museum's main plaza to a lower shade garden with criss-crossing paths, ultimately reaching a circular parterre garden at the southernmost point.

Below is the source for the water.


The fact that this urn below is comprised of one massive, beautifully polished piece of stone is pretty impressive.

On the lower lever, the water falls into a pool:


From there, water passes beneath the sidewalk, and reappears a few feet further south, where it begins to trickle further down the hill, as paths traverse it.


The water then reaches a large pool, some thirty or forty feet below the lower terrace.

Hedges create a parterre garden that seems to 'float' on this water.

Corten steel retains raised planting beds, which echo the circular shape of the parterre.


At this point, I have been following the water with a horizon line of Los Angeles ahead of me for a good ten or fifteen minutes. Though I have been descending in grade, I can make out most of the city on my way downhill. But upon reaching the parterre, at the garden's culmination point, I am prohibited from an expansive view of the city further south.



Furthermore, at the path's conclusion, I am faced with a "No Visitors" sign and forced to turn around and retrace my steps (or continue in a circle, which provides essentially the same experience). To make absolutely certain that no one can see beyond the parterre area, the path is sunken so much that you absolutely cannot see anything beyond the corten wall and the gravel that sits on grade.


Obviously, this was intentional, but I don't understand why. I mean, I can imagine all the theoretical hornswaggle designers spout when they defend a scheme, but knowing that I was being led to this point, only to feel frustrated that I could not progress further, nor could I see the beautiful view... Well, it really annoyed me. Also, on a gorgeous day, when the museum was teeming with people, very few people lingered here. Upper grassed areas were sites for picnics and the outdoor cafe was packed, but the area around the parterre was not used for rest, nor reflection, nor conversation. I can't blame the visitors, really -- the space felt aggressive. As if the parterre (and by extension, the designer) was saying, 'No. Look here.'

Generally, I try to avoid criticism; other people, more qualified than I, can argue a design's success or failure. But this was surprisingly disappointing, and I felt compelled to post about it.

There were some other stellar design details and lovely plants on the site, so I will post some more about that in the next day or two.

London Planes

I have been meaning to do a post on London plane tree (Platanus x. acerifolia) for a while, now. Being at Bryant Park last Saturday buoyed my enthusiasm for the tree so I am finally posting some photos of Platanus being used to its best effect -- in an allée.


Plane trees don't have a dense canopy which helps create perfectly dappled light beneath their limbs. The exfoliating bark (in sand, green, white and beige) also reflects this light.

In late summer, they do get Anthracnose (not Discula anthracnose, another kind of fungal disease that afflicts dogwoods) and their leaves may drop completely, though this disease's effects are only cosmetic and the following spring the trees recover.


Perhaps one of the most famous uses of a plane tree allée is in Versailles. I once had a wonderful photo of this -- 100 feet high specimens lined a drive on axis with the Apollo fountain -- alas, it seems that I have lost this pictuure in a computer snafu.

Instead, I will post a similar French use in Fontainebleau:


The other thing that makes a plane tree allée enchanting is the way they lean away or into the path. I am not sure why this happens; I could guess that compaction affects the root system, which then affects how the tree is anchored, but it would be an uneducated hypothesis -- to say the least.

Instead, here's a shot of the bark up close (on the left):


Plane trees are closely related to the native sycamore (Platanus occidentalis), though sycamores have larger leaves, a coarser branching habit and the presence of a dark, woody scaly bark that grows around the lower 10 feet of the tree. Above the scales, the exfoliating bark is much whiter. Finally, they set seed in groups of one or two, not two to four. You might recognize a sycamore more easily as they feature prominently in the landscapes of Andrew Wyeth:

Fashion Week

Last Saturday I began a new semester of my plants 2 class (evergreen plants). Before the course begins, I need to figure out where each class will take place. This is always complicated. Each park must have 14-16 new species to show the students and in the weeks that follow class 1, I must also have five to ten plants from the preceding weeks to use for quizzes. Finally, I like to vary where we have class, so students can see different design styles.

Bryant Park is a good spot for plants 2; there are four different hollies (Ilex glabra, I. x. meserveae, a variegated I. aquifolium and I. crenata), a dwarf Colorado blue spruce (Picea pungens 'Glauca Globosa'), Cherrylaurels (Prunus laurocerasus) and Common Boxwood (Buxus sempervirens), to name a few. Also, the park is compact and little time is wasted by walking long distances.

On my way to Bryant Park Saturday, I felt pretty good. Hurricane Hanna was on her way, but it looked like there was a chance we would wrap up class before she finally landed in New York. I had also checked out the park a week ago and was able to ensure all the plants I intended to teach were still there (you never know when a tree will die or be removed or transplanted).

And then I actually got to the park.

It is fashion week in New York in case, like me, you didn't realize it. In addition to the Ilex, Buxus, Prunus and Picea, there were Manolos, Guccis, Puccis and Pradas. Fashionistas and bloggers were camped at the coffee kiosks and workers - I guess they'd be fashion roadies - were running around with cables and walkie talkies. We did a pretty good job of covering the required material, though a bit of trespassing was necessary. We had to sneak behind some metal partitions that blocked access to the mixed border lining the north side of the lawn (where the tents had been erected) in order to get to the Picea, a Yew (Taxus cuspidata 'Capitata'), a Yucca (Yucca filamentosa) and the most tongue-twistingest plant of the course, Chamaecyparis pisifera 'Filifera Aurea' (Gold Threadleaf Falsecypress). Amazingly, no one seemed to care; security personnel donning badges walked past us several times, utterly nonplussed by our presence. I almost took it personally; evidently we offered absolutely no threat to fashion. On the bright side, I think we were the only people in the vicinity who weren't very, very, very hungry. And our feet didn't hurt.


And yes, we also got to see La Lohan herself. While we were inspecting a leaf on an inkberry (I. glabra), we became distracted by what had to have been about 2 dozen photographers all surrounding Lindsay Lohan and Samantha Ronson. I had never seen the paparrazzi in action before. It was a little hard to comprehend, honestly. Our class (and some very nice specimens of inkberry) are pretty much right behind that mass of people.

So, I guess my point is, if you like fashion and you like plants, now is a good time to check out Byrant Park.

2nd Avenue Station/Liz Christy Garden

There was something I found quite striking about the color combination of the purple morning glory (Ipomoea purpurea) and the red leaves and flowers of what I am guessing is a tall celosia (Celosia plumosa).

I wasn't the only one taken with this composition. It appears* that someone was on their way to the F train with an apple and a plastic cup of water (or orange juice. Or vodka.) when, transfixed by the contrast of such hot, strong colors, they paused, and took a moment to contemplate the endless number of hues and textures the botanical world has to offer. A moment later, they returned back to reality and, realizing they were late for work (or their AA meeting), they rushed down the steps, abandoning the breakfast.

*Click to enlarge if you can't figure out what I am talking about!

This was a pretty overcast morning which really made the purple and red pop out when I was walking to the subway, however the photo doesn't quite do this justice.

Here's another shot (somewhat unfocused -- sorry, it was a really early morning and I was running late) of morning glory:


Ipomoea purpurea shares its genus with the sweet potato (I. batatas). The genus means "worm-like," which is a reference to the coiling habit of the vine. This tendency is also noted in the genus's family name Convolvulaceae, derivative of Latin convolvere or "to twine around."

Hudson River Park

In late July, the Tribeca portion of the Hudson River Park was opened to the public. I finally got over there on a Saturday to take some photos. This leg of the Park was designed by Sasaki Associates and Mathews-Nielsen Landscape Architects.


I liked the space and the planting quite a bit. Visitors are provided with benches, lawn and different tiers of pathways.


The boulders above are used for seating, but in other parts of the park, they are used to berm up soil, establishing an area of higher elevation.


At this upper tier, a boardwalk path meanders east and west as well as up and down. (Saturday was such a perfectly clear day, that these photos almost look --to me at least-- like the type of photoshop renderings you would see during a presentation. Does anyone else get that vibe?)


Along the boardwalk, nodes for seating and conversation are punctuated with wooden benches. I would love to know why composite was not used for decking. On a public job like this, it is unfortunate that a more environmentally-progressive material was not used. The planting is primarily warm season grasses which makes sense: they look great in the summer during the park's peak usage period, and the dried out grasses can persist through the winter (if the maintenance crew does not cut them down too soon), so the boardwalk will not look too barren too often.


Above is a clever edge detail for the boardwalk. 2x2s were warped into a curve as much as possible and 6" interruptions helped complete the appearance of an edge that has the same radius as the path itself.

Another little detail that goes a long way is the ADA curb cuts so that the lawn itself is wheelchair accessible:


Finally, this part of the design irked me:



It just seems insane to put such a climbable sculpture like this in the park, and then tack on a sign that says "no climbing." I mean, if I didn't want to climb the damn thing before, I sure want to now. The cynic in me has visions of Rosa rugsosa or Poncirus being planted around the sculpture's base as a way to ward off energetic and rebellious children.