Dirt Divas: the walled garden

July 15, 2007

By Hally Truelove

Have you ever noticed how the mood of a portrait alters so completely with a change of background?

There one stands in cut-off jeans and a T-shirt, looking ordinary enough, until one steps in front of a backdrop of palm trees and a golden sunset. Miraculously the strained grimace relaxes into a natural smile and pallid skin takes on a healthy glow. Replace the sunset with a sailboat on a choppy sea, and perfectly groomed hair is ruffled by the wind while colorless cheeks become rosy.

I saw the same phenomenon on our recent excursion to the United Kingdom.

Ordinary plants were transformed into glorious specimens against backdrops of weathered stone, clipped hedges, cobblestone paths, plaster-clad cottages, wattled fences, vine covered walls, and brick archways. A single red rose became a striking beauty against the dark stone of a walled garden. A straggling purple clematis was transformed into a showpiece as it clamored over and arched doorway. A chartreuse shrub sparkled like a jewel before a neatly clipped yew hedge. An apple tree espaliered against a cottage wall, a lobelia springing from a cobbled drive, or a row of peas climbing wattled fencing is inestimably more pleasing to the eye than an apple tree in the middle of a lawn, a lobelia against bare soil, or peas lying on the ground.

But how can one translate medieval walls, 400-year old hedges, and ancient cobbled streets into 21st century Alaska? We haven't enough local stone for walls, yews pout in zone two winters, cobbles upheave with the frost, and all of the aforementioned will succumb to the snowplow. We could, of course, move to Wales, but that would require leaving the fishing behind, which is only an attractive option in mid-winter, when we have eaten all of our frozen halibut, given away the last of the smoked salmon for Christmas, and subzero temperatures have mowed our gardens to the ground. But before we could execute a move, March would be upon us and the seed catalogs in our mailboxes, and we would be compelled to stay on, at least for another summer.

So comes the challenge of transforming our gardens without the benefit of centuries old backdrops and snowplow-free winters. Wooden fences can create charming foils for espaliered fruit trees, mixed borders, and various shrubs.

A low fence will do as well as a tall one for shorter plants; even a climber will be happy as it isn't particular about whether to climb up or across.

A nicely kept spruce, especially a blue spruce, can be a spectacular backing for a Sitka rose. Clematis and other vines are lovely scrambling up a willow, cottonwood, or birch tree. Two willows or even alders, trained together and kept pruned, can replace a stone arch and create a great setting for a bed of spring bulbs or an unusual element in a grouping of shrubs.

Cotoneaster and caragana will both form reliable hedges, fairly rapidly, and they have remarkable snowplow recovery powers. Albeit they aren't evergreens, but as they stay green as long as anything else in our gardens, they still provide a good backdrop to show off a planting. In midwinter, when the rest of the garden is laid low, the hedge is still handsome even without leaves. Wooden fences also add interest to the winter garden.

Showplaces for our plants can be created with twig structures such as teepees, trellises or wattling. (Yes, wattling does well, as it isn't perturbed by subzero temperatures.) Teepees can highlight individual plants that need extra support and really improve the look and picking ease of climbing peas or beans. Trellises work against house walls to support climbers or just to add interest at the back of a planting. Wattling can be used behind borders like a wooden fence, but I like it best low at the front, with lobelia and dianthus peeping through and providing support for the inevitable errant that wants to overtake the garden path.

One wonders if the British appreciate their own stunning garden settings, having been born to what is, to them, completely common. Certainly we would welcome the odd castle or monastery wall to enhance our gardens, but such decadence would nonetheless be wasted, as they would surely be reduced to rubble after a few years of battering snowplows. But we can, with a bit of imagination, borrow a look established by time, combine it with the freshness of 21st century Alaska, and bring to our own gardens a new vitality.

Hally Truelove is the newest addition to Dirt Divas and resides in Palmer.