garden inspiration and design
Every eight weeks or so I receive springtime in my mailbox. It comes in the form of my favorite gardening magazine, The English Garden. I say springtime because finding it in the mailbox gives me the same feeling as seeing the first leaves on a lilac bush, or the tips of tulips pushing through the soil. As I turn the pages and look through the index I’m reminded of why I’m a gardener and I fall in love with landscaping all over again.
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I’ve been excited to write about succulent containers since I snapped the above picture outside a cathedral in Moneglia, Italy. This tiny town, set picturesquely on the Italian Riviera, was full of succulent inspiration. Outoor cafes, storefronts, and the beautiful brick archways that lead to the beach all sported succulent plantings. Its a less common style for containers, where full blossomed beauty is prevalent. The stark, geometric appearance has come to be associated with “modern” design. But instead of considering them modern, why not think of them as Mediterranean? Their simplicity emulates all things Mediterranean, with few blooms and an emphasis on texture. Water wise and full-sun loving, succulents thrive in containers providing maximum impact for minimal effort. There’ll be no need for dead heading or heavy fertilizing here, just a willingness to venture from petunias and marigolds.
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Near my apartment is Valencia’s Mercado Central. It’s a huge farmers market that’s open from about ten in the morning until the early afternoon when everything gets packed up and taken down just before siesta. Vendors set up their booths inside a gorgeous old building just across from La Lonja {Valencia’s ancient silk merchant market}. Ever since we happened upon the Mercado my husband and I have enjoyed wandering through the market, experiencing all the different sights and smells.
The market is definitely a shock for the senses. There are stacks of farm fresh eggs in white and speckled brown. Huge containers of pickled sardines sit below dried squid strung on large hooks from the ceilings of the stalls. Tall, narrow bottles of locally produced olive oil catch morning sun streaming through the arching entrances, causing the amber liquid to sparkle. Baskets of warm, freshly baked bread, bunches of dried herbs and spices, and crates overflowing with picked-this-morning lemons and oranges crowd the narrow walkways. The other day as we finished picking out a watermelon and some freshly baked baguettes we stumbled upon a garden stall. That’s when I saw her…
Bougainvillea has long been one of my favorite plants. I remember the first time I noticed its incredible hot pink color absolutely enveloping an arbor near Disneyland’s Rancho del Zocalo restaurant. Ever since then I’ve been hooked on this climbing vine that’s suited for more tolerant climates than my own. So when I caught a glimpse of this one as I walked past with my baguette, I couldn’t help myself. I gave my husband my best Marcus pleeease eyes and for just €8 it was mine.
Our apartment happens to have the perfect exposure to support this blooming beauty: full and hot southern sun on our balconies. Bougainvillea is a wonderful container plant because of their love of hot sun and preference of dry soil. Also, container planting of Bougainvillea allows you to winter the plant in a sunny spot indoors {if you live below zone 10}. They’re great for smaller spaces because they aren’t aggressive growers and provide a ton of color for minimum effort. Go out and grab one for your patio or balcony!
American author Christopher Morley once said “all cities are beautiful, but the beauty is grim”. When the beauty of nature is compared with that of a city there is {at least in my opinion} a clear winner. The monotony of colorless living can be exhausting. Yet there are those who would try to bring a bit of green into the long expanses of concrete and canopies of steel and mortar. They battle sidewalks, stop lights, and tightly cramped buildings to bring all things green and growing a little closer than the nearest park or tree lined street. And in the battle to bring life to the concrete jungles of the world they are the first line of defense.
Small garden shops or booths are welcome sights in large cities. Their contents spill out onto sidewalks providing the shocking contrast of color amidst various shades of grey. I found this especially refreshing while in Paris. Near the Notre Dame Cathedral my husband and I stumbled across a small garden market. The sudden burst of color in the city reminded me of seeing the first blossoms after a long and gray winter. The importance of green became even more pronounced as I watched a small Parisian woman struggle to get on the bus with a three foot tall climbing rose, battling thorny tendrils and a five gallon pot on public transportation. It’s a different kind of green living, and it’s being green in the most basic way. So grab a brand-new houseplant, or find another container to fill with blooming annuals,because you can’t have enough green.
I spent this past weekend traveling to Seville and Málaga. My husband and I visited the palace of Alcázar and the Alcazaba fortress. We srtolled through the high walled courtyards, listened to the trickling water in fountains and pools, inhaled the heavy purfume of jasmine, roses and orange blossoms while admiring the contrast between terra cotta pavers and brightly colored ceramic tiles.
In the eighth century the Moorish invasion of Spain introduced a style of garden design that would remain long after their rule had ended. Islamic and Persian gardens where among the first pleasure gardens in the world, creating a fragrant refuge from the desert. These gardens were very much like our own gardens today; places of sanctuary and escape.
It could be fun to incorporate elements of Moorish style into your garden, Here’s how!
I was driving with my husband the other day. We had pulled up to a stop light, and i was peering around at the nearby yards and gardens as i usually do, looking for new favorite plants, admiring shrubbery, and re-designing in my mind. I do this a lot and he often joins me in my garden admiring.
I was just about to direct his attention to a magnificent arbor, covered in deep purple wisteria when he said to me, “You know Lacey, I really like dandelions.” Now, to a landscape designer this confession is blasphemy. A gazed at him in shock, and asked how on earth this could be true. After all, this was the horrible little weed that plagued beautiful green lawns and beds filled with more worthy blossoms. He answered, telling me that they were flowers, pretty yellow flowers. Marcus explained that he had just never considered them a weed. I tried to shake these comments off, and convince myself that I could still be a landscape designer, even if my husband was a weed lover. Just as long as no one else found out.
But I couldn’t forget what he said, and as I walked past the dandelions I noticed the vibrant blossoms and deep green foliage. But it wasn’t until a train ride in the German countryside between Augsburg and Fussen that I too realized the beauty of dandelions. 
Rolling hills of yellow as far as the eye could see flew past us as we sped along the tracks. The color was so massed individual flowers weren’t distinguishable, and initially I didn’t think they were dandelions at all. When the train stopped in Fussen, I left the tiny station and wandered over to an old lodge pole fence to find the source of the gorgeous yellow color. Dandelions. I had to smile as I remembered the conversation that Marcus and I had a few days before leaving for Europe. I guess dandelions are flowers, and not just weeds, after all. 
