Alice By Morning Light: Rays of Optimism

Predawn, Tuesday, April 12, 2011: Eyes open, pulse elevates. Fifty-two hours until I'll click the SEND button.

Topic. I need something to write about. I summon my muse; crickets. Evel Knievel couldn't jump a fresh story idea across my synaptic chasms. Last resort - grab the camera, run over to Alice and write something informative about plants. People like that.

But before I entertain, edify, and enthrall you with the charms of Alice Keck Park's lovely legacy, fast-forward a few hours. Just as I finish my photo-shoot, in comes a text message from Nancy Rapp, my former boss and Santa Barbara Parks and Recreation Department Director: "We confirmed for this morning?" Crap! That's right.

8:45 AM, Tuesday, April 12, 20011: Peet's downtown back patio, trusty Biff the Wonder Spaniel in tow, decaf (don't wanna fool with that restraining order). Nancy and I get caught up on personal and P&R stuff, then get down to the morning's agenda...

As you might imagine, I figured out what to write about, or I wouldn't be posting this. Lots of gorgeous pictures and enticing plant info lies ahead...

Citrus & Aloe

Citrus & Aloe
Originally uploaded by gardenwiseguy

This cluster of aloe flowers caught my eye while I was researching a garden for an article. I don't know the aloe species, but the background is a navel orange. Wonderful how these serendipitous moments arrive while I've got my camera and my wits about me.

Click the photo for more shots at my Flickr.com site.

"Expressing the Verticality of the Space"

When I was studying landscape architecture at Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo, all of us students fell into the trap of "design speak." You couldn't just say "I've designed a plaza." It was a "vernacular space intended to inculcate a sense of tranquility and mindfulness" or some such crap. The most memorable was a student who, when designing a project between two tall buildings, admonished us not to "deny the verticality of the space."

Plants with a strong vertical architecture are my favorite device for injecting excitement and dynamism into the gardens I design. Depending on how these plants are grouped with others, they can be singular explosions—like fireworks going off amid a placid setting of gently mounding cloud-like plants—or part of a continuum of other vertical plants—like combining various grasses, sedges and reeds, each one contributing slight variations on the theme.

Then you’ve got your variations on vertical: there are the Viagrically emphatic, dare I say phallic players like bamboo. No doubt about it; these guys have their pumps primed and are in 24-hour readiness. Shallow, but effective.

Or there are those that start off with good intentions but seem to lose enthusiasm, like some of the big Miscanthus species that leap from the ground, then flag a bit, tips drooping dejectedly back at the ground.

[Dang – where is this going?]

Anyway, if you want to create a little excitement in your garden, pick from a few of the star players pictured above. If you can’t grow these in your garden, find some substitutes. But read the caution label: “If your verticality last more than four hours, please call your physician and don’t try to operate a vehicle with a steering wheel.”

I gotcha verticality right here, buster.

Clockwise from the upper left:
Top row: Senecio; Dasylirion & Euphorbia; fence from recycled lumber and bamboo
Middle row: Equisetum & Scirpus; Anigozanthos; Lavandula & Heuchera
Bottom row: Bamboo; Chondropetalum; Miscanthus 'Morning Light'

Portland Greens

Portland Japanese Garden
Originally uploaded by gardenwiseguy

I was clicking through my September Portland photos at my Flickr site and ran into this lovely scene. I had just attended a "getting the most from your point and shoot" session at the Garden Writers Association symposium and took my little Nikon S10 CoolPix out on a garden tour.

As much as I know that most people are drawn to gardens for the floral color, I'll continue to delight in shades of green, pairings of plants both subtle and starkly dramatic, and enjoying the way light plays throughout the day.

I heard garden writer and grand dame Penelope Hobhouse speak at the Santa Barbara Botanic Garden years ago. Regarding her classic tome "Color in Your Garden" she confessed that if she wrote the book again she'd expand her section on foliage color to encompass half of the book.

Eye Tuning

euphorbia-agave
Originally uploaded by gardenwiseguy

I'm learning that photographing plants is all about framing and light. My early morning walks with Biff the Wonder Spaniel (and his amazing patience while I compose) have sharpened my eye. This massive planting and "killer combo" is part of a garden I walk past every week. This time I, camera in hand, I saw it anew.

Pictures can be magical

Agave attenuata (Fox Tail Agave)
Originally uploaded by gardenwiseguy

I just took this photo today. It's an Agave attenuata at Alice Keck Park Memorial Garden. As part of a monthly discipline and as a way to create some content for this blog I've been visiting this great botanical park in downtown Santa Barbara. It's a few blocks from my house and I generally wait for the late afternoon light to soften a bit.

Aside from the SLR camera I owned a few decades ago, I haven't really attempted to be artistic with my camera. It's more about documenting the landscapes I've create for clients and the occasional family shot.

But when I downloaded this shot I was quite stunned at the product. I know I was consciously "composing" something that might turn out nice, but I don't have the imagination or experience to predict what the camera will produce.

How is it that despite all the visual information that was streaming in, I was able to frame and compose just this information?

I love how the human brain works. This truly feels like an act of magic.