A nice surprise arrived in my email in-box last week. It was a note from someone who has discovered shedstyle.com: 

Dear Debra, My husband and I are building a potting shed. We have a footprint and general design concept.  What we haven’t been able to find are ideas or samples of interior space allocation.  I’ve preordered Stylish Sheds and Elegant Hideways from Random House but now is the time I most need some of your knowledge/experience.  Is there another source (I’ve also read your internet magazine) that you can direct me?  Is there any information you can provide? I’ve literally been hoping for this building ever since my husband and I bought our home – 27 years ago.  I’d really appreciate your help. Thank you! (signed, MARY) 

Wow, thank you, Mary! She actually pre-ordered Stylish Sheds and Elegant Hideaways! Very exciting news, especially since it won’t be on bookstore shelves until April 29, 2008. Mary’s note prompted me to think about what kind of Shed Design Checklist I would give a nascent shed-builder.  

Here are some general tips: First, of all, remember that there are infinite ideas to play around with. Think carefully about the interiors. So many people build gorgeous pieces of architectural wonder but then leave the shed’s inside ordinary-looking, dusty and filled with cobwebs. Even a functioning potting shed should be beautiful and reflect your own style. 

Pegboard walls and exposed rafters give this shed a barn-like feeling, while a cozy area rug and rocking chair ensure comfort

Treat the interior space allocation as you would design any room of your house. What will you do with the wall? It’s fine to leave the rafters and studs exposed, but can you paint them or mount shelves or hooks for displaying collections? One woman I know lined the walls of her potting shed with pegboard and hung from it all her antique gardening tools.  

Kathy’s potting counter

If you want a work counter or potting bench, consider the dimensions and proportions of the interior counters that feel best to you. Is your kitchen counter the correct height and depth? Do you like it deep enough to allow room for stacks of flowerpots or rows of gardening books to be displayed across the back? Is there storage room underneath?

Some of the most attractive countertops I’ve seen are covered in a sheath of copper or zinc. Kathy Fries, a Seattle gardener who has no fewer than four “shed” structures on her property, bought a salvaged section of classroom cabinets (probably used in a high school wood-shop or science class), complete with countertop and storage bins — voila! The perfect potting bench for her garden house.

Windows: Can you add a valance or lace panels? Can you make sure there’s a nice deep ledge for potted herbs or anything else that makes you happy? Windows should definitely be operable so you can adjust temperatures, create ventilation and — most important — hear the sounds of your garden while inside the shed. Swishing grasses, the whir of a hummingbird, bird-songs and a fountain’s trickling water are essential sounds you wouldn’t want to miss.

Doors: Just as with your home, you want the threshold and portal that lead from the “external world” to your “inner sanctum” to be symbolic of powerful and nurturing emotions: shelter, safety and haven. Don’t settle for an ordinary door from the big-box home center when you can do a little hunting to find something special. A salvaged door, especially one with glass, is a nice choice. You can add color or (as we did in our Seattle garden) allow the elements to continue the peeling process that reveals decades of life.

Floor: Remember this is an outdoor structure. It’s okay if you have a cement floor, but perhaps you should paint it and put a drain in the center so any gardening projects can be easily cleaned up. I’ve visited numerous sheds with wood plank flooring, vinyl tile, terracotta tile, flagstone, wall-to-wall carpeting and the aforementioned concrete. It really depends on the function of the room. 

Space-planning: Even if this is going to be a space for working on gardening projects, designate one wall or corner for R&R; A bench with cushions, a wicker chair and good reading lamp (of course, this means electricity), a desk for your reference books, correspondence or even a small tea party. Again, look to the room-like proportions of your home. One couple we interviewed/photographed for the book built their tea-house on the exact proportions of their dining room because to them, it was a comfortable space. 

On the potting shed in my former Seattle garden, designer Jean Zaputil used salvaged French doors donated by a contractor-neighbor. The weathered mailbox became the perfect planter-box for daffodils and a rose hip wreath hangs on one door

Here are some other questions to ask yourself:

• What activity draw us outdoors? Are you creating art, making music, writing, gardening, arranging flowers, playing with children, stargazing, entertaining friends, seeking solitude or meditating?
• What role will the structure play in the landscape? Is it a design focal point or is it intentionally hidden from view? Will it be a surface or “wall” in the garden for climbing vines or roses? Will you use it as a gallery for hanging objects, mirrors, artifacts? Will it hide or disguise an unsightly view (such as the back of a neighbor’s garage)? Is it for pure function or pure folly…or a little bit of both?
• To create an appropriate shelter or structure to house your activity, take time to address these functional choices: placement (where will you site the structure? how will it be oriented?); size and scale (check your local building codes to determine the maximum size allowed without a construction permit; it is often around 100 square feet); what materials will complement your home’s architecture? what utilities do you need (electricity, water, heat?); and, of course, the fun part: how will you decorate, embellish and adorn the structure?

In her book Hideaways: Cabins, Huts, and Tree House Escapes, French author Sonya Faure explores some of the emotions that the word “hideaway” can conjure. I’d like to share them here:

“The dictionary defines a hideaway as ‘a secluded spot.’. . . There are plenty of synonyms for the word, most of which emphasize its protective function: cover, den, haven, hideout, refuge, retreat, sanctuary, shelter. . . . The noun ‘hut’ and the verb ‘to hide’ share the same Indo-European root - skeu - meaning: to cover or to conceal.”

In the end, your shed should be designed for your private and personal delight. It is the place where you will feel safe, feel free to create and contemplate, and take refuge from the everyday demands of life. “Shed” also is a verb that has several meanings, most of which hint at “letting go” (as in shedding tears, sending forth, losing by a natural process). There’s something very symbolic in that notion as well. We “shed” our burdens, our cares, our sadness or pain, when we can escape into our secret backyard place.

It finally arrived in my mailbox today: the January-February 2008 issue of Fine Gardening (issue No. 119) with the cover line, “Learn the secrets to an Abundant Border.”

The genesis of this article, which is an adaptation of a chapter from The Abundant Garden, a book I created with photographer Barbara J. Denk in 2005 (Cool Springs Press), dates to a lunch I had with Steve Aitken. In July 2005, I was in New York City on a mission to find an agent to represent my next book project. I had rented a car and after one meeting with a potential agent, I drove to Newtown, Connecticut - in the POURING RAIN - where the Taunton Press-Fine Gardening Headquarters is based in a charming little hamlet.

I had planned on lunching with an editor-friend there, but when I arrived, I learned she had recently left Fine Gardening before having a chance to give me a head’s up. My “substitute” lunch date was to be then assistant editor Steve Aitken. I had never before met Steve, but after escorting me through the Taunton cafeteria where we sought refuge from the summer downpour, we sat down to lunch and a really wonderful conversation.

Every author likes to think that people actually READ their words and do not just look at the pictures (I love my photographer-collaborators, but honestly, I do have a bit of an inferiority complex when comparing a block of my prosaic-looking text – 12 pt. black words in Helvetica or some other font on white paper – with full-bleed, four-color, vibrant or subtle images captured through a lens by a gifted visual-artist.)

So Steve made my day. Over lunch, he summarized the entire point of The Abundant Garden, highlighting key design ideas that I had hoped to achieve in the text. He blew me away. I have never had that experience before, knowing that someone read…really READ…the words that I wrote; the words that helped shape the idea of a book; the words that supported and explained Barbara’s glorious images.

From then on, I was a huge Steve Aitken fan. During our lunch meeting, he suggested I adapt some of my ideas in the book into an article for Fine Gardening. At the time, I had written several smaller, one- or two-page articles for the magazine, but never a full feature article, let alone the cover story. It was an idea that pleased me. And I fully intended to follow up on the opportunity he was offering.

Subsequent to our meeting, two cool things happened. First, Fine Gardening included The Abundant Garden on its list of the 10 best garden books for 2005. Second, Steve was promoted to managing editor of the magazine. Oh, I guess there is a third event that took place. In April 2006, we learned that my husband Bruce would accept a position in Southern California. My life turned upside down and I was barely able to follow up on my existing assignments and deadlines, let alone “chase” anything new.

Steve and I didn’t reconnect on the story idea right away. I like to chalk that up to the fact that our respective “plates” were full. But the timing was right when, only a few months after leaving Seattle for SoCal, I received a call from Daryl Beyers, a new FG assistant editor. Daryl told me that Steve + Co. were ready for me to start working on the article. The story focus: Creating an Abundant Border.

We had several back-and-forth discussions about the shape the article would take, ending up with the exciting theme of “breaking rules in the border.” Just out today, the article features several of Barbara Denk’s photos from The Abundant Garden, as well as images from some of my other favorite photographers, including Allan Mandell and Saxon Holt. Other photographs were contributed by Stephanie Fagan, FG’s art director, and Daryl Beyers (who personally shepherded this piece from outline to publication).

Anyone who finds magazine or newspaper publishing a very s-l-o-w and tedious process will read this entry and be perhaps discouraged. How on earth should it take more than 2 years to turn an initial idea into a final article? (Don’t even get me started about the even lengthier book-birthing process!) Well, life gets in the way, timing is everything, and sometimes you just have to wait for all the pieces to fall into place as meant to be. Forcing, pushing, jockeying, chasing….it never really works. It’s a lesson I need to learn again and again. And this experience reminded me of the adage that “things work out for a reason.” Yes, they do.

Finally, please indulge me. Because of limited space (and for perhaps other reasons, such as it was purely a bit of self-indulgent writing in the first place!), the editors cut a final section of my original manuscript from the published article. Its genesis came from my father, Fred Prinzing, so I would like to include it here. You might have to read the published article for this to make sense, but here goes:

Everything Old is New Again

Like most gardeners who have tackled a landscaping challenge, I often think my “solution” to a design problem is original or straight out of my imagination. So when I recently opened “The Book of Perennials,” a gift from my book-hound father, I had to admit that my “new” ideas about layered borders were anything but new! This little red-bound volume, first published in 1923, was written by Alfred C. Hottes, a magazine editor of the day.

 Here’s how he describes a garden border:

“A border may be formal or informal; the plants may be set in definite ribbon-like bands or placed in natural clumps. Generally, the latter method is to be preferred unless we are planning a prim garden of geometric form on a large scale.”

Hmm. Sounds awfully familiar. I was surprised and somewhat humbled to read further. Mr. Hottes had his own opinions about layered borders, not too different from my own:

“Obviously, the tall plants should be at the back of the border, the dwarf edging plants in front and those of medium height tucked in between the two extremes. Nevertheless, this rule should not be followed too strictly; otherwise the result will give a border which will be too monotonous. Allow bold groups of tall plants to come to the front of the border. For the best effects in the Springtime some of the earliest dwarf plants may be planted toward the center to give a mass of color throughout the width of the border.”

Well, I guess we should listen to an expert. Don’t take my word for it. In the 1920s, long before I tried breaking rules in the border, Mr. Hottes encouraged his readers to do just that.

I’m always happy when the monthly Southern California Horticultural Society meetings roll around (second Thursday of each month), despite the requisite l-o-n-g drive on LA freeways to get there. Last night was a plant-lovers’ celebration, featuring ceanothus expert and nurseryman David Fross. Ceanothus includes the North American native plants known as wild lilacs, mountain lilacs, California lilacs, blue-blossoms, and buck-brushes.

David Fross, founder of Native Sons wholesale nursery in Arroyo Grande, CA, coauthored Ceanothus (Timber Press, 2006) with Dieter Wilken, botanist at the Santa Barbara Botanic Garden. The 272-page book is a tribute to Fross’s lifelong love affair with the blue-flowering woody shrub. The seduction is evident in his text:

“Each spring, tints and shades of azure, cobalt, indigo, and cerulean surface in the chaparral of California as if to offer a new name for the Golden State. Madder blue, milk-blue, and lavender, and then there are the blues of the sea — aqua, ultramarine, and a hue found only in the Sea of Cortes. The genus includes plants with flowers of each of these colors, and more: cyanine, sky blue, and the flinty hues of slate.”

According to Fross, who divides this plant monograph into two sections — “Ceanothus in the Garden and Landscape” and “Ceanothus in the Wild” — the English are much more creative than North American gardeners in planting ceanothus, using it as a hedge, groundcover, specimen tree, or climbing/espaliered embroidery on the face of an ancient stone building. “In London, they use ceanothus everywhere,” Fross proclaimed, saying he once counted 17 ceanothus plantings between his London hotel and the train station.

Luckily, it’s not too late to start using the hundreds of species and cultivars outlined in Ceanothus. For a guide, I’ll turn to page 125, Fross’s useful selection reference. He suggests cultivars for good garden tolerance, covering banks, groundcovers, informal hedges and screens, specimens and small trees, small garden spaces, seashore and shade. Plus, he lists eight variegated cultivars; I am a sucker for variegated foliage (I inherited an early specimen of Ceanothus thyrsiflorus var. griseus‘Diamond Heights’ from my pals at Seattle’s Elisabeth C. Miller Botanical Garden in the early 2000s, and enjoyed the awesome gold-and-green chevron-marked foliage in a glazed Chinese-red container before transferring the plant to the front slope of my Seattle garden, where I hope it still lives). Fross also lists summer flowering ceanothus, plants with large inflorescences, fast-growing cultivars and white blooms.

In Seattle, ceanothus has the reputation for being short-lived and finicky (I remember early on over watering ‘Julia Phelps’ only to watch her succumb from too much of a good thing). Now, I’m excited to try this “classic California genus” in my Zone 10 landscape. One spot on my must-visit list: Leaning Pine Arboretum, California Polytechnic University in San Luis Obispo, where there is an extensive display of California native ceanothus (Fross directed the development of the California Collection there).

MORE PLANTS

One of the other nifty features at the SoCal Hort meetings is “Plant Forum.” Like an old fashioned garden club activity, members bring in plants, cuttings, flowers, fruits and seeds to just show off the bounty of their own backyard. I love the amazing variety of samples on display - most of which are completely new to me.

Last night, a highlight was one member’s box of just-picked Hachiya persimmons, lined up like perfectly-formed eggs in a crate. The skin color - difficult to describe, but you know the word persimmon conjures up visions of something spicy, exotic and rare….and that’s how these delightful fruits appear to me. They are as vivid as a setting sun over the Pacific Ocean. Having lived in SoCal from 1967 to 1970 when I was young, I have strong memories of my midwest Mom not knowing what on earth to do with the persimmon tree in our backyard. She found one recipe for persimmon cookies. They tasted chewy and were seasoned with cinnamon and other spices (ginger? allspice? nutmeg?)….I’ve asked Mom to find the recipe. Now I have four delicious-looking fruits in my kitchen window, awaiting the transformation with said recipe into cookies for my own children.

A few other specimens from fellow SoCal members got me excited, too:

Hakea laurina (Pincushion) - Australian, large shrub to 12-feet, fall-blooming

Nerine (mixed) - South African bulbs, to 2 feet, fall-blooming

Clerodendrum ugandense (Butterfly bush) - African, to 20 ft, nearly ever-blooming

Aloe bellatula - blooms at various times, from Madagascar

Salvia confertiflora - Brazilian, 4-6 feet tall x 4 feet wide, blooms all year (hummingbirds love it); cut back hard, sun/dry conditions

Fall bouquet - including Senna artemisioides, Adenathos sericea (Woolly bush), Acacia baileyana ‘Purpurea’, Grevillea ‘Moonlight’, and Tagetes lemmonii.

Inspired that my friend Erin was going to take her 2 youngsters to see “Bee Movie,” and presented with a rare unscheduled afterschool block of time (no soccer practice, no carpooling), I asked Alex if he wanted to see “Bee Movie” yesterday afternoon. The media exposure has been HUGE on this Jerry Seinfeld and Renee Zellweger vehicle, although one reviewer on NPR warned listeners that even though the kids would like it, and Seinfeld fans like me would love the adult puns, there were too many far-reaching elements to the storyline to put this full-length cartoon on the best-movie list.

My son 10-year-old son Alex thought the movie was “intriguing and very interesting,” although, he said, and I quote: “it could have had more storyline and less stupid puns.” (I think he is referring here to the girl-meets-bee romance.)

But a movie is a movie. And off we went. The narrative is filled with lots of bumblebee humor, if there is such a thing. The main character “Barry” (rhymes with Jerry) wears a black-and-yellow striped turtleneck (natch). Barry and his pal Adam (voiced by the adorable man-child Matthew Broderick), are facing adult beehood and the prospect of working at the same job for the rest of their lives in a honey plant.

But Barry yearns to escape from the hive and get a taste of the real world, so he cons his way onto team of elite “nectar collectors,” studly bee-guys with big chests and the real world responsibilities of gathering “pollen power.” Once he follows them out to a floriferous Central Park (where else but New York City for Jerry/Barry?), where the animation portrays crayon-hued perennials and flowering trees from every continent and bloom-season all together in fantastical springtime glory, Barry soon understands that these pollen-patrol guys get all the action. As Barry puts it: “Fla-Ow-Ers!”

Then Barry lands on the windowsill of Vanessa, a HUMAN floral designer, voiced by Renee Zellweger. She saves his life by slapping a waterglass over Barry just when her doofus boyfriend is about to swat the irritating bee with the sole of a boot. The animation art highlights fancy-leaf geraniums spilling out of Vanessa’s windowboxes…a notable attempt at botanical accuracy.

Bees are not supposed to speak with humans, but Barry wants to thank Vanessa for saving him….and soon they’re pals (Barry has a little bee-like crush on Vanessa). When he goes to the grocery store perched on Vanessa’s shoulder, Barry discovers shelves filled with jars of honey. And he is shocked to learn that humans are “stealing” the golden fruits of bee labor, so to speak.

With all of the righteous indignation you’d see in Jerry, George, Kramer and Elaine (and even Newman) over the Soup Nazi’s rules, Barry decides to “sue” the human race (actually the five mega-honeymaking corporations). It all unfolds rather like a classic Seinfeld episode. As Jerry would say: yada, yada, yada. I don’t want to spoil the rest of the plot for you.

But in the end, the bees wrest control of honey-making from corporate demons (represented by a diabolical John Goodman-voiced defense lawyer) and Barry and Vanessa end up together, in a kind of platonic-romantic partnership where she sells cut flowers and he dispenses legal advice to the animal kingdom.

I kind of like the fact that the film’s big climax is the point at which Barry educates Vanessa about the essential role bees play in the plant world. When the bees at Honex (the fictitious company where generations of bees spend their lives making gobs of honey) decide to stop pollinating and instead take an early retirement, all the plants start to shrivel and die. The movie makes this point: plants live because pollinators help them reproduce.

Wow. Okay. so then I come home from the movies and I am sorting through piles of magazines and newspapers (we subscribe to more than a dozen monthly magazines, plus the NYT and LATimes - we are a reading household that never catches up with all the words available to us!) , and I came across the October issue of Puget Consumer Co-op’s Sound Consumer newspaper. The cover story: “Colony Collapse Disorder: Revisiting the Hive.”

How timely to read that organic beekeepers and small diverse organic farms are “living solutions” to the threat of Colony Collapse Disorder. The article, by Debra Daniels-Zeller, explains that honeybees are disappearing, plagued with parasites, diseases, and the threat of pesticides. She quotes Todd Hardie from Honey Gardens Apiaries in Vermont: “Bees are the canary in the coal mine,”….the loss of pollinators is a sign that agriculture is out of balance due to pesticides.

So Jerry Seinfeld’s “Bee Movie” doesn’t tell the WHOLE story, but I urge you to support local, organic honeymakers who encourage bees and other pollinators to thrive and do their bee-worthy jobs in this world. In organic honey-solidarity, I think I’ll have a dollop of my Pender’s Honey Farm (Camarillo, CA) pure honey, straight from the Thousand Oaks Farmer’s Market, with my yogurt and strawberries tomorrow for breakfast.

P.S. Hat’s off to Dreamworks for entering into a joint-marketing deal with The National Honey Board (it beats those crappy Happy Meals). You can download six honey-themed recipes from the web-site, including:

Stuffed sweet peppers

Mango chicken

A honey of a chili

Honey gingerbread

Honeyglazed roast lamb

[Spencer Johnson photograph]

Celebrating Braiden Rex-Johnson’s book launch at Pike Place Market’s Steelhead Diner

I’m still high from a completely indulgent trip to Seattle for a 24-hour visit on November 1st. The somewhat skeptical guys in my household are not convinced it was a “necessity,” but of course the best things in life - friendship - are indeed a necessity… as they feed our spirits and souls and remind us of all that is good in the face of less-than-good forces in the world.

The purpose for my trip was to help food-goddess and dear friend Braiden Rex-Johnson celebrate the launch of her newest (6th? 7th? - I’ve lost count!) cookbook, “Pacific Northwest Wining and Dining” (John Wiley & Sons). The book’s subtitle: “The People, Places, Food, and Drink of Washington, Oregon, Idaho, and British Columbia,”may be a mouthful, but what a savory and mouth-watering mouthful it is. Braiden spent the better part of two years traveling the PNW to meet pioneering winemakers and innovative chefs. With her talent for storytelling and her savvy knowledge for wine-and-food pairings, Braiden’s 270-page tome is delectable (as are Jackie Johnston’s lovely photographs that transport me to each special spot on the NW map).

I feel like Braiden has escorted me far off of “the-beaten-path” to some of my favorite places on earth; but with her as my guide, I see it with new eyes, savor it with an eager palate and embrace her profound appreciation for all things local and seasonal.

In her essay, “What is Northwest Cuisine?” Braiden speaks of food and wine in a manner that will resonate with many gardeners (who also understand the importance of terroir, of place):

“The Northwest’s enticing indigenous ingredients — morels and chanterelles, clams and mussels, crab, salmon, lamb, berries, apples, pears, lettuces, and greens — help define the region’s cuisine. There’s a profound connection between Northwest Cuisine and the varied terrain that inspires it. But the starting point is always fresh ingredients — natural bounty of the Northwest. It is a very seasonal cuisine, a cuisine solidly grounded in the local provender.”

I love this woman, her passion, her intensity, her focus, her professionalism, her sense of irony and her way with words. Braiden delivers up a full menu of delicious stories, personal insights, intimate profiles, and inspiring, but achievable recipes. I can’t wait to prepare some of the exciting recipes in this book, including Sea Scallops with Spiced Carrot-Dill Sauce (to be enjoyed with Riesling) or Walla Walla Sweet Onion Frittata (with Chardonnay as a companion). UPDATE: Click here to read a wonderful review (and get a great recipe to try) about Braiden and PNW Wining & Dining in the December 5, 2008 issue of Seattle Post-Intelligencer; story by Rebekah Denn.

Honestly, flying to Seattle from Burbank (2-1/4 hours) is no harder than driving to LA sometimes. And so the journey was easy. And the reward was rich: to walk into the book party and see Braiden’s expression of surprise and laughter (and a few tears) in response. If I can ever write about gardens, plants, and flowers the way she writes about food ingredients and wine-as-food, I will be a happy woman.

About a month ago, I gathered with 500 or so of my closest friends to attend the annual Garden Writers Association symposium in Oklahoma City. We were treated to some amazing experiences, including a Country Western jam session under the stars, tours of private and public gardens, great speakers and workshops, lots of new plants, design inspiration and story ideas. And good friends, many of whom I see only once a year. For me, that’s the best part.

There were lots of goodies in our complimentary backpack, a multi-zippered number that sports the logo of Garden Writers Association and Total Environment, an Oklahoma City landscaping firm that sponsored many of our events.

Oklahoma rose rocks, resting on a gravel-lined tray. Nature, elevated to a higher art form.

Tucked inside was the very coolest gift of all. A rock. Yup, an earthy chunk of Oklahoma’s geological history. Round, reddish-brown, and measuring about 2 inches across, the rock was naturally formed and resembles a rose with a swirl of petals around the edges. I am fascinated by this little chip of stone.

“Rose rocks,” we soon learned, are an Oklahoma specialty. I’m so impressed that Oklahoma members of GWA’s host committee hand-collected hundreds of rose rocks to share with us, their visitors. I will cherish this special piece of their world and I can’t resist holding it in my hand and looking at this beautiful natural phenomenon. I just mentioned my fascination with the souvenir rock to a fellow GWA member who clearly wasn’t as excited about it as me. She said, “Oh, when I saw that, I wondered if it was an animal, vegetable or mineral. I thought it was edible.”

Well, my dear, uninitiated, rose rock-ambivalent friend, let me I quote here from the Oklahoma Geological Society brochure that came with our 2-inch specimen:

“Rose rocks, the reddish-brown sandy crystals of barite that resemble a rose in full bloom, are more abundant in Oklahoma than anywhere else in the world. They have been reported in small quantities in California, Kansas, and Egypt, but are in greatest concentration in the Permian Garber Sandstone in a narrow belt that extends 80 miles through the central part of Oklahoma between Pauls Valley and Guthrie.

“The rose-like appearance of the rock’s petal-shaped clusters is due to the intergrowth of crystals of barite (a mineral compound of barium sulphate, BaSO4) as a cluster of divergent blades. Barite was precipitated in interconnected voids in the rock, probably from barium-rich marine waters that covered the Permian Garber Sandstone during or shortly after its deposition about 250 million years ago.”

So, in other words: a quirk of nature, 250-million years ago, started this geological oddity that surprises us today. Awesome to think about.

Here are some other nifty rose-rock facts:

Most rose rocks are 1/2 to 4 inches in diameter and consist of 5 to 20 radiating plates.

The largest known single rosette is 17 inches across and 10 inches high and weighs 125 pounds.

Clusters of rosettes 38 inches tall and weighing more than 1,000 pounds have been discovered.

Gov. Dewey F. Bartlett declared the rose rock the official Oklahoma state rock in 1968.

We saw some larger rose rocks specimens on display in a few gardens, arranged on trays or in a curio cabinet like a Natural History Museum exhibit. Wow, these are cool. What’s a rock-lovin’ girl to do once she’s back home in LA? Hmmm. You bet. I checked eBay and typed in a search request: “Oklahoma Rose Rocks.” Lucky me, I found someone selling five batches of 2 rocks each and I was able to snap them up (and no, MA, you cannot have them. get your own rocks).

My little gathering of rose rocks, which for some reason make me very happy. Note the tiny, joined rosette pairs in the lower right

While awaiting my box of of rose rocks to arrive from Susan, the Oklahoma gal who sold them to me over the Internet, we swapped a few emails. I told her how fascinated I was with these perfectly-formed geological specimens. And she shared this funny recollection:

“…by the way, in my younger days, my grandfather used to curse these rose rocks, because they came up all over the place, especially in his rose beds! now people want them! i even have one that is 2 feet around and weighs 28 pounds! in my rose bed!!! thanks so much & God bless you!”

Upon closer inspection, they really do look like roses!

I’m eager to learn lots more about gardening in Oklahoma, especially after spending five days there in late September and early October. Luckily, I have a new guide in Dee Nash, a fellow GWA who shares her experiences living in a log house, gardening in Oklahoma and writing about it at www.reddirtramblings.com.

I spent Saturday and Sunday visiting some incredible gardens in San Diego County, while attending the October board meeting of Pacific Horticulture Foundation.

The Water Conservation Garden’s engaging signage both educates and inspires homeowners to consider low-water landscape design

With my friends and fellow board members, I enjoyed touring innovative public gardens and inspiring private gardens, including the Water Conservation Garden at Cuyamaca College in El Cajon and the private gardens of Judy Bradley & David Mitchell (in Del Mar) and Lani & Larry Freymiller (in Rancho Santa Fe).

A charming seating area at Lani and Larry Freymiller’s

A view of Kathy Lafleur’s new art studio - through the arbor

Lorene Edwards Forkner and I had the added bonus of staying for two nights at the guest house of avid gardener Kathy Lafleur and her husband Tom, who have turned an aging garden and neglected parcel of land in Rancho Santa Fe into a highly personal, artistic, soulful oasis.

Now, twenty-four hours after we left San Diego to drive north (dropping Lorene at Burbank Airport around 3:30 p.m. on Sunday), we have learned the horrifying news that the wildfires have forced our friends to evacuate their properties.

Tom wrote: Remember what it looked like at 9am Sunday when you were here?? this is 9am Monday…winds are >40mph, we are on a mandatory evacuation all the way to hy 5…  250,000 people are asked to move out of their homes, 125,000 ac of fires burning!!

This morning, Tom Lafleur sent me a few photos of their garden (including the rose pergola, above), illustrating the devastation of the Santa Ana winds sweeping through the county, toppling trees, sending branches falling, and knocking over garden furniture. I worry that the fires will do even further damage - as Rancho Santa Fe is in the path of fast-moving flames.

Please keep these gardeners - and everyone in San Diego County whose homes are in the line of spreading wildfires - in your prayers. I heard from San Diego garden writer Nan Sterman tonight, a huge relief after no word since she sent out a very brief “I’m about to be evacuated” email this morning. She and her family (and dog) are safe, staying with friends in north San Diego County.

As for my family and home in Thousand Oaks, the good news is that so far, we’re only worried about the smoke and poor air quality. Fires are still raging to the north, west and south - about 10 to 15 miles in each direction. This is our introduction to yet another one of the vagaries of living in Southern California!

Reading great garden writing is one of life’s joys. And one of my favorite pastimes is to spend time savoring the words written by friends and fellow garden writers.

Here are two books I recently reviewed for Pacific Horticulture magazine (an important resource for anyone who gardens in the West).

The Bellevue Botanical Garden: Celebrating the First 15 Years, by Marty Wingate (2007, The Bellevue Botanical Garden Society), 9×12 inches, 112 pages, $19.95. To order: Bellevue Botanical Garden.

“The moment you enter the garden, you will sense that the BBG is as personal as a beloved private garden,” writes Nancy Davidson Short in her back-cover tribute to this book. Indeed, in author Marty Wingate’s colorful narrative of this relatively young garden, the passion of its supporters’ “ownership” influences all aspects of the Bellevue Botanical Garden’s inception and evolution.

To celebrate the garden’s first 15 years, the BBG Society asked Wingate and book designer Virginia Hand to sift through decades of archival material dating back to the 1940s, conduct first-person interviews, and edit hundreds of images contributed by volunteer and professional horticultural photographers. The result is a timely and timeless document that captures the roots of BBG - from the gift of land by benefactors Cal and Harriet Shorts to the partnership between the BBG Society and the City of Bellevue’s Parks Department.

Revealing her talents as a garden tour guide and garden writer, Wingate escorts her readers through BBG’s multilayered narrative, stopping at important venues to recount a small historical detail, or focusing closely on noteworthy plant specimens. She enthusiastically retells the story of this “living jewel” and its influence on regional, national and international audiences who number 300,000 visitors each year.

The book’s most inspiring section covers “The Gardens” — including the Entrance Garden, Northwest Perennial Alliance Borders, Yao Japanese Garden, Shorts Ground Cover Garden, Waterwise Garden, Alpine Rock Garden, Fuchsia Garden, Native Discovery Garden and Lost Meadow/Loop Trail.

Illustrated with exquisite photographs of plant combinations and garden portraits, the history of these specialty gardens is also shared through interviews with key volunteers who helped design, install, tend to and nurture their creation.

And ultimately, that’s the heart and soul of this book: How members of the gardening community - from avid lay gardeners to professional landscape designers and horticultural educators - turned the dream of a botanical garden into a beautiful reality for the public.

California Gardener’s Guide, Volume II, by Nan Sterman (2007, Cool Springs Press) 7×10 inches, 271 pages, $24.95. To order: Plant Soup.

In the interest of full disclosure, I admit to being more than a little familiar with the format of Nan Sterman’s excellent new book, California Gardener’s Guide, Volume II. In 2005, Mary Robson and I coauthored the Washington and Oregon Gardener’s Guide, its Northwest cousin.

I am a newcomer to California, having relocated to Ventura County in August 2006. And I’ve been waiting for this book ever since. Having given up my Seattle garden, along with plants like hostas and hellebores that loved shade and moist growing conditions, I’m faced with a new backyard, a tabula rasa for a novice to California gardening. Like many gardeners, I want to grow and nurture plants that are appropriate for my surroundings, including ornamental natives.

Sterman, a California gardening expert who embraces sustainable practices such as designing with drought-tolerant plants, serves up her top recommendations: 186 plants for California’s diverse growing areas.

This is no small task, as Sterman notes in her introduction: “From north to south and east to west, there are dramatic differences in vegetation, geology, topography and climate.”

Before revealing her recommendations for the “best of the best” — annuals/biennials, bulbs, fruits, groundcovers, herbs, ornamental grasses, perennials, shrubs, succulents, trees and vines — Sterman introduces the beginning gardener (or California newbies like me) to the state’s five primary growing regions. She includes useful charts that outline average annual rainfall, maximum and minimum temperatures for each region, including: the coast, inland valleys, the Central Valley, low deserts and high deserts.

With Mediterranean conditions accounting for much of the state’s geogrpahy, Sterman zeroes in on native plants and those from other Mediterranean regions adapted to California’s low-water conditions. She also covers “thirstier” plants, edibles and ornamentals that are noteworthy for their “return on investment” (fruit, berries or fragrance). In the one-page plant profiles, Sterman makes note of species with low water, moderate water and high water needs. Useful icons also indicate whether the plant attracts butterflies or hummingbirds, supports bees, is edible, fragrant, produces fruits, is long-blooming or appropriate as a cut flower, provides food or shelter for wildlife, has colorful foliage, is drought tolerant, a good container plant, grows well in Mediterranean conditions, adds a tropical look to the garden, tolerates coastal conditions and is a California native.

I really appreciate the “zone” graphic which shows a tiny map of California on each page (this is a clever feature that I wish Mary and I had used in our version of the state plant guide). The map is shaded to allow readers to tell at-a-glance whether a plant is hardy for the region in which they live; Sterman also includes the estimated minimum temperature for the plant.

Now I can take the California Gardener’s Guide along on plant-shopping excursions and use it to find something other than the ubiquitous agapanthus (okay, we thought that was a “rare” plant in Seattle: now I see it growing in clumps at the corner gas station!).

This has been a week of small, delicious indulgences as I’ve explored the architectural legacy and horticultural richness of my “new” world.

For most of the past 13 months I feel as if I’ve either been up to my ears in unpacking boxes OR traveling for photo-shoots OR chained to my keyboard to write Stylish Sheds. But a “break” in the schedule has allowed me to explore a bit . . .

Autumn in Southern California is indeed the most glorious of seasons, with cool, sweater-worthy evenings and dewy morns that welcome the ocean air; between them, these two moments sandwich pleasant mid-day temperatures of 70-degrees. While my East Coast friends are suffering 80-degree-plus temps (global warming?) I am finally enjoying Ventura County’s climate.

DAY TRIP ONE:
On Monday, I drove north, up the Pacific Coast on Hwy. 101 toward Montecito, the elite community outside Santa Barbara that has a rich architectural history long preceding the arrival of famous types like Oprah who have driven up real estate prices into the stratosphere.

Marcia Gamble-Hadley

Marcia Gamble-Hadley, a Seattle architect and friend introduced to me by photographer Bill Wright, was here on her second research trip for her book about the historical Moody Cottages. Marcia is a great-niece of the four Moody sisters (I can only think of them as a bolder, more independent, early 20th century version of Little Women). Starting in the 1930s, Marcia’s great-aunts Harriet, Brenda, Mildred and Wilma designed around 35 storybook cottages in Montecito and Santa Barbara. Quirky, wondrous, inventive and resourceful, the women’s designs live on today - in tiny little houses - dare I say BIG SHEDS? - that are prized by 21st century owners.

A half-cottage on a tiny lot brings delight to its occupants

Having designed some pretty innovative Seattle cottages herself, Marcia has a big mission - to document the work of her great aunts (never before collected into a book) and draw lessons from their designs for today’s residential designers.

Look closely: the door at the right is a “false” door (the kitchen sink is mounted just inside the window!)

“The Moody cottages are so delightful,” Marcia explained while taking me on a whirlwind tour of six structures (some of which involved window-peeking, while others were open to us). “You don’t feel deprived because you’re not living in 2,200-square-feet.” The one-bedroom cottages suggest clean, simple lines, comfortable proportions, nurturing and enclosure . . . less is so much more.

Long before Sarah Susanka conjured up The Not So Big House, Marcia’s great-aunts were creating their own magic with small cottages. According to Marcia, there are six “hallmarks” of a Moody-Sisters’ cottage - design elements that any architect or builder would be smart to emulate:

Tall windows invite light inside a perfect yellow cottage

• 1. Daylighting: tall, wide windows; sills that are flush with countertops; double-doors;
• 2. Strong connection to the landscape

The Moody sisters were never about to line up windows and doors!

• 3. Whimsey and irregularity (nothing symmetrical about these fantastical cottages!)
• 4. Efficiency (built-in cupboards appear under eaves; bookcases under staircases; storage is maximized everywhere)
• 5. Tradition ( a nod to the English cottage )

A “fan” style bump-out creates a pleasing human-scaled niche, just large enough for a table at the window

• 6. Human scale (cozy is an overiding emotion)

I can’t wait to see how Marcia captures the story of her own architectural legacy in a book about her great-aunts (who, she points out, “had these amazing careers as single women long before they had the right to vote.”). You can learn more about her research at www.moodycottages.com.

DAY TRIP TWO:

My day at Rose Story Farm with Maryann and Charles Pember was a rose-induced dream

On Wednesday, I met up with longtime Seattle friends Maryann and Charles Pember, who had just taken in the Southern California historical and garden destinations (The Huntington Botanical Garden, the gardens at the Getty Villa, the Gamble House, and Lotusland, among other visits) while on vacation. Maryann and I have known each other long before we were fellow Northwest Horticultural Society board members in Seattle.

It was a treat to be invited to join them for a day of good-ol’ garden gossip about people and plants in Zone 8 while visually drinking in Zone 10’s botanical temptations.

After meeting in Ojai (I finally ventured off Hwy. 101 onto Hwy 33, then Hwy 150 to the foothills where I got my first peek at Ojai - need to go back soon to visit this artist community famous for its day-spas!), we drove along Casitas Pass toward the oceanside town of Carpinteria. Our destination: Rose Story Farm.

Rose Story Farm hearkens back to to an earlier, low-tech world

Located on a former avocado and lemon farm in Carpinteria Valley, this breathtaking rose farm is a lesson to me in how old-fashioned farming practices (the kind that were natural to our great-grandparents) are viable in today’s modern agri-business world. An organic farm where hundreds of varieties of old garden and English roses are grown. No fussy hybrid teas here. There are some hybrids grown here, but these are ones bred with ancient parentage for cherished traits like their long-lasting perfume. 

Even on a mid-October day, the rose farm displays a perfect palette of creamy whites, sublime pinks, and alluring oranges.

Row upon beautiful row of floribundas and climbers, chosen for bloom color, petal arrangement, and most of all - FRAGRANCE (scents like anise, clove, spice, honey, babypowder, a juicy peach, citrus…filled our nostrils), planted up a gently sloping hillside, like a technicolor vineyard. Organic mulch from a nearby mushroom farm cushions and nourishes the soil at their feet.

Kiki clips a ‘Shot Silk’ climbing rose, dozens of which are planted along the central path at Rose Story Farm, as a glorious hedge

Tens of thousands of luscious roses are lovingly cared for by a small crew of farmers who know exactly when to harvest them. Can you imagine an east coast bride who simply MUST have a romantic, voluptuous rose bouquet of say ‘Fair Bianca’? It’s possible for her floral designer to order armloads of this vintage rose from Rose Story Farm. Say her wedding is on a Saturday. On Thursday, the roses are picked, hydrated and conditioned, de-thorned and carefully packed in bundles of 10 stems. According to our rose-obsessed tour guide Kiki (shown above in the hot pink straw hat), the cut end of the stems are packed in wet moss to keep the roses hydrated; the flower ends are gently nestled in tissue paper; each bunch is packed in an ice-filled box and shipped overnight (Fed-Ex, next morning delivery) to wedding and event florists around the country. Around the country, on Friday mornings, the boxes of these Carpinteria-grown roses show up at floral studios: an enduring gift of romance, nostalgia, sensory delight.

Packed bouquet of 10 just-harvested roses

Kiki says the farm gives very specific instructions to their customers, telling them to quickly unpack, hydrate and refresh the cut flowers before using them in a bouquet or arrangement. It’s a 48-hour marathon as each rose travels from its plant to the bride’s hands. A ritual that brings happiness and joy to anyone who sees (and smells) these roses.

The joy of each rose is heightened when gathered together in Kiki’s basket. My new favorite: Jean Giono, is the vibrant tangerine rose at the center right

After our delightful walking tour of the rose fields, I came home with a lot of newfound confidence about growing roses in my Southern California backyard. I met a new rose I couldn’t resist, and I brought him home with me - Jean Giono. I will happily replace one of the ubiquitous ‘Iceberg’ roses that I inherited with this property with this alluring dark-gold, multipetaled rose that smells like heaven.

Rose Story Farm’s famous lemon cake, made in a rose-shaped bundt pan and topped with a bloom that looks pretty enough to eat!

Schedule your visit to Rose Story Farm on a Wednesday or Saturday and spend $38 for the small group tour, which is followed by a delicious garden luncheon. A gift shop filled with rose-themed and garden-inspired ware from Europe and beyond (including a few antiques) is worth a visit. Here’s where I found, to satisfy my current made-in-the-USA obsession, a cast-aluminum, rose-bloom-shaped bundt pan so I can try making my own Rose Story Farm lemon cake.

A gallery of more rose photos:

The rose allee through planting fields

‘George Allen’, a surprisingly beautiful variegated yellow-and-red rose - very masculine

‘Tropical Sunset’ - you can tell I have a thing for variegation!

‘Yves Piaget’ - as large as a cabbage

Our pretty centerpiece, pave-style roses in every color - and scented beyond description.

Good news: I just received the Clarkson Potter Spring 08 catalog and we’ve been given two full color pages to promote “Stylish Sheds and Elegant Hideaways.”

This puts us smack in the middle of very good company. Stylish Sheds is featured between “Chocolate Epiphany,” by famed pastry chef Francois Payard, and “Living like Ed,” by Ed Begley Jr. (Hollywood’s eco-guru).

A preliminary cover design (see above) features a fantastic cedar potting shed in the Seattle garden of our friend Joan Enticknap. I have a feeling this isn’t the final cover, because when art director Marysarah Quinn needed to create a cover for this catalog in early April, she had photography from only 10 of the book’s locations to choose from. But the inviting spirit of Joan’s gem of a shed appeals to me - and I wanted to share it here.

“Shedistas,” by Alexander Brooks (10)

“Sheds,” by Benjamin Brooks (15)

When we were going through all the hoopla to figure out the cover art (not to mention the book title), my sons created their own book covers for me. I’ve had their sketch with Benjamin’s “Sheds” and Alexander’s “Shedistas” cover ideas taped to my computer during the grueling process of writing 50,000 words (these drawings are accompanied by some wordsmithing, including possible alternatives to the adjective “Stylish,” including “sensational,” “sublime,” “superb,” “saucy,” “spicy,” and - this is an odd one - “syncopated.”)

The effort my family has invested to help us create this book has always put a smile on my face. And thank goodness for children who naturally simplify the things we adults find complex. After all, why are we grownups drawn to backyard sheds? I think it’s to recapture those fleeting moments of childhood joy when we hunkered down in the playhouse or climbed a rickety ladder to the tree house Dad constructed.

This is a favorite quote of mine, which explains in part what I wanted to explore in Stylish Sheds:

“All really inhabited space bears the essence of the notion of home . . . . We travel to the land of ‘Motionless Childhood,’ motionless the way all immemorial things are. We live fixations, fixations of happiness. We comfort ourselves by reliving memories of protection.” (Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space)