The Lawn in Landscape Design

Check out Todd Haiman's great post today on the evolution of the lawn.  Like most landscape architects today, I try to help clients on establishing their lawn areas as sensibly as possible.  Too often, an estate has a lawn that seems to roll endlessly along hillsides and besides pastures.  These clients, I think, were heavily influenced by Merchant Ivory films like Howard's End. Which in turn were loosely documenting the English Garden landscapes of Capability Brown and Humphry Repton.  Those two, among others, were largely influenced by the picturesque landscapes of Claude Lorraine.


Now, don't get me wrong, a lawn is a wonderful part of any landscape - it provides a place for vista, scale and play.  My only goal is that when a lawn is designed, it's established with sensible boundaries.  Those boundaries can be programmatic (i.e., you simply don't want to mow too much lawn), ecological (you don't want to use too much fuel for your mower or water for irrigation) or physical (because, really: who wants to mow a lawn that is on a 3:1 slope?). 

The lawn in American landscapes is indeed iconic and not at all a bad thing.  But when we look at a picturesque landscape (perhaps, most famously Stowe House in Buckinghamshire), we should temper our reaction to the gorgeous landscape with the knowledge that countless numbers of workers (both animal and human) are hiding behind those copses of trees, waiting to furiously fight back the turf's growth.

Phragmites australis

I have been spending a lot of time traveling between DC and Philly lately and finally decided to take some very quick snapshots of the Phragmites australis stands I pass when driving through Delaware.  If you have even a passing knowledge of landscape design or horticulture, chances are you know this noxious weed.  

 

The story goes that Phragmites was brought to this continent in the early 20th Century in the form of packing material.  But, what may have been an innocent, reed-like plant in Europe has been destructive to many wetlands here in the United States.  Phragmites is tenacious, growing in wetlands with as much as 3' of water, to areas where the soil is merely damp.  Runners can travel as much as 15' in one growing season.  It's an incredibly common plant along highways -- the drainage ditches along the sides of 95, from Maryland straight up to the Meadowlands in New Jersey, are densely populated with this species. 

 

The plant is also halophytic, which means it tolerates some alkalinity in the soil (which means it can handle growing amongst crushed concrete and other demolition debris) and it also grows well in brackish water, so it's often seen in tidal estuaries, competing with our native salt marsh plant, Spartina. 

For a long time, it was assumed that Phragmites was only an invasive, exotic species, however recent research has indicated that there is also a native species of Phragmites (P. australis subspecies americanus).  This plant is evidently less virulent but physically only distinguishable as separate due to its shorter ligules.

Musa

A quick note to any regular readers: Sorry about my no-show yesterday.  I took a snow day.  Second, wow!: this is a snowy season.  All the more reason we should wish we were all on a tropical island right now.  Eating bananas. 

So, with banana daiquiris and sandy beaches on the mind, today's post is on the banana, or Musa.  Now, I won't dare assign a species name to this plant.  Most bananas (or plantains) are derivative from M. acuminata or M. balbisiana.  So much so that cultivar names are as specific as one can hope to be when deriving the nomenclature of a banana. 

The genus is fascinating, however.  Though it can get quite tall, it is not a tree.  Instead, Musa is always a herbaceous stalk.  More specifically, the "trunk" of banana trees is actually a set of fused petioles, or a pseudostem.  It's also considered by many to be an annual -- after flowering the stalk will die and a new stalk (or pseudostem) grows in its place. 

The leaves are, obviously, enormous.  When I was a kid in Malaysia, I remember we would go to a restaurant where, in lieu of plates, our food was served on the thick, leathery banana leaves that were abundant in the region.  (In fact, Musa is best suspected to be native to Southeast Asia, though with most tropical plants, tracing back its ancestry is difficult.)

 

Pandanus utilis

Well, if this isn't the saddest specimen, I don't know what is.  This is an offshoot of a larger Pandanus plant from my mom's house.  I'm hoping it perks up. 

I've long been familiar with Pandanus as a houseplant.  We always had one, even though it's always made our cats throw it up.  Somehow they find the (mildly toxic) leaves irresistible.

It wasn't until I spent so much time working in Hawaii that I appreciated what a remarkable plant Pandanus can become.

This specimen is from Waimea Botanical Garden on the North Shore of Oahu (by the way, this is still one of my favorite plant spots for Hawaii - definitely spend some time in Hale Ewa and Waimea Bay if you're ever in the area). 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note that the tree develops aerial roots that descend from about 18" above the ground layer.  The leaves, when mature, can be quite sharp, to the point of easily scratching you.

Schlumbergera

While the genus name Schlumbergera is probably unfamiliar, you may have recognized this plan as Christmas cactus.  I'm loath to assign a species name as Schlumbergera is often hybridized among its species and with similar genera such as Epiphyllum or Rhipsalis.  While this plant did indeed bloom during Christmas, there are also Thanksgiving and Easter cacti, too.  

The flat, lobed leaves with tiny hairs that appear around the flower buds.  Though these plants are native to the forests of Brazil, they are epiphytes and occupy the higher reaches of the canopy.  Here water quickly sheets away and the plant's succulent nature is a method of preserving water.  The hairs around the flower bud are likely adaptations for the plant to trap moisture around the developing flower. 

These are relatively easy to grow - this is from a cutting of my grandmother's cactus.  Obviously, the flower is triggered not in response to changes in temperature, but to changes in light.  As the days get shorter the plant begins to flower.  In the jungle, these flowers open and close each day.

Pothos

Here's another painfully common houseplant, Epipremnum aureum or pothos.  It is not a Philodendron (Philodendrons are never as common as you think as many indoor plants are accidentally called this). 

 

 This plant is native to southeast asia and is a rapidly growing vine.  It will send out adventitious roots, looking for opportunities to anchor into nearby forest trees.  It doesn't quite have that available in an apartment, so you'll have to support it with wire or nails. 

Honestly, I'm not quite sure what to do with it. I guess we'll route it around the kitchen next.  It always reminds me of the scene in Desk Set where Spencer Tracy first meets Katherine Hepburn. 

Chlorophytum comosum

Most people surely know Chlorophytum comosum by its common name, spider plant.  It's another ubiquitous houseplant that is hard to kill.  This one is a green specimen, though the variegated variety is far more popular (students who know me, know I'll chose against variegation almost every time).  

Spider plant is easy to propagate because the plant sends out long stolons on which leaves sprout.  Where nodes would normally occur, adventitious roots develop.  These "babies" can be placed in soil and root quite easily. 

Chlorophytum literally means "green plant" which makes this the most boring etymology story, ever.

Sanseviera trifasciata

I mentioned Sanseviera trifasciata a few weeks ago, when blogging about somali hemp.  It's indeed an insanely popular houseplant.   

 

It's not a particular favorite of mine.  Frankly, it's kinda ugly.  But this thing survived 5 different New York City apartments.  In my first apartment - a north-facing basement unit - this was the only thing that didn't up and die instantly.  It declined steadily to the point that it only had one sad leaf remaining, but when I moved into a 5th floor walk-up (also north-facing), it rebounded.

 

After a few years there, I moved to the Lower East Side.  Second floor unit.  South facing, but the large building across the street blocked any light.  The plant began to wither once again.  This was the site of the infamous apartment fire so soon enough I moved the plant again.  This time to a fourth floor walk-up with east and west light and no big buildings blocking it.

Last year the plant was tested once again.  I moved all my plants to DC in January when my lease expired in NY.  My brother and I packed the truck as fast as we could, hoping to hit the road before the snow started.  No luck.  We spent 9 hours driving from NYC to DC.  I wrapped the plants in plastic bags before we left (and even crammed a few in the cab of the truck) but many perished in the trip.  This one, ever the trooper, was nonplussed.  Now in my new apartment (2nd floor, south light) it's doing quite well, as you can see by the small leaf sprouting above.  I should probably divide it, but the poor thing has been through enough.

Monstera deliciousa

I was inspired by last week's posts, many of which featured indoor plants, to share some of the species I have at home.  First up is Monstera deliciosa or swiss cheese plants.  Though most people know this plant by its genus.

Monstera is actually a vine which explains whey I have several stakes propping this plant up.  In the wild it can scramble up hillsides and along the trunks of large trees.

 

Though it's native to Central America, I saw it everyhwere in Hawaii - in planned landscapes or growing along the sides of highways, vining up trees.  The plant is even somewhat iconic in Hawaii.  Below it's incorporated in a mural in the library of the Four Seasons Lodge at Koele.

And many would recognize its leaf used in patterns for Hawaiian quilts, like this one below:

However, it's not to be confused with split leaf Philodendron, or Philodendron pertusum, which looks quite similar.  In this shot, it's P. pertusum growing next to the Alpinia.

Green Wall Resources

All this talk about green walls has made it painfully evident to me that I do *not* know my houseplants well enough.  The only book I even have about houseplants is a copy of Taylor's Guide to Houseplants with a 1987 copyright on it. It's a handy book, but not as comprehensive as I'd like.

A brief browse through Amazon and a few resources seemed to be best-reviewed. What about you, dear reader?  Do you have any indoor plant book recommendations?

I'd love readers' suggestions on good books for houseplants.  More on what I actually *do* know when it comes to indoor plants next week. 

More on Longwood Garden's Green Wall

Below, Philodendron scandens and Asparagus setaceus.

Below, Selaginella (spike moss) and a mystery plant.  Anyone recognize what's on the bottom?

Philodendron scandens. 

 

Below, Pteris ensiformis (brake fern) and perhaps Hoya?

Rabbit's foot fern (Davallia). 

 

And again, perhaps this is Hoya?  Any other suggestions?

Check out a great account on the development of the wall on Longwood Garden's blog. 

Longwood Garden's Green Wall

To round out this recent spate of green wall posts, I'm sharing some photos of Longwood Garden's newest contribution.  This wall opened last year as part of the underground extension of the conservatory.   The rooms in this hallway are public restrooms, and the arc of the hallway directly relates to the terraced grass amphitheater that has been added to the above-ground, outdoor space, designed by Kim Wilkie. 

 

Obviously, the skylights will significantly aid in the success of the plantings,though I suspect that the wall may have grow-lights on it after the conservatory closes to the public. 

The structure is quite different in appearance to the Rubenstein Atrium, in that metal grids seems to be holding the plants up in an exposed cellular pattern.  This kind of infrastructure, if it exists at Lincoln Center, is hidden behind matting.
 

The base of the wall is different as well.  I prefer this arrangement - with the wall simply draining into the grate below.  Come to think of it, I'd love to know if the water from the restroom sinks is routed here as well - it seems like a great opportunity to recycle the both sources of gray water.

More on the species selection this afternoon.

Musee de Quai Branly

It seems silly to post about the vertical garden at Musee de Quai Branly and fail to post photos of the more traditional landscape that abuts the building, designed by paysagiste Gilles Clément.  

 

The garden's biggest gesture is the installation of a massive glass wall - this is to protect the landscape from harsher winds that may pass along the Seine.  The pragmatist in me had doubts about this.  On the one hand, why use a plant palette that needs a glass wall to adjust its microclimate?  Also, a glass wall only looks good when it's clean.  A rainstorm and accumulated city dust will only make the space seem more bleak.

That said, it does present some creative uses for signage and announcing the space and events at the museum and does provide a necessary security measure.

The approach the restaurant-side of the museum is above.  Massive grasses and 'naturalistic' looking plants are placed in broad swaths.  It's refreshing to see such an enthusiastic departure from a more traditionally French landscape (not that I don't have a soft spot for Andre Le Nôtre).

Of course, the museum seemed to still be working out some kinks with the oversized plants.  This is apropos to yesterday's rant about public spaces being under pressure to have an 'instant' landscape and consequently planting things far too close together.

In other areas - this is facing the museum directly (through the glass wall) with the Seine behind me - plants were still struggling to establish. 

 

I suspect that they may have had some erosion issues here - perhaps water was pitching down the slope and eroding some of the soil and mulch away.  Again, these photos are from October 2007, and the museum was still quite new.  I took a brief glimpse of the landscape later, in September 2008, and it looked like it was evening out. 

The aggregate paving was interrupted by 'ancient' stone paving.  Scattered among the joints of these stones were glass cubes with anthropological objects encased with them.  A creative way to bring the museum's collection outside, though the glass was scuffing a bit, which compromised the clarity of the view.

Another gesture in the paving.

Patrick Blanc

While it can be argued that green walls have been in existence for hundred of years in one form or another, the popular, high-design resurgence they have had recently can be traced back to Patrick Blanc, a French artist and botanist, without much argument. 

Blanc has been designing green walls (or vertical gardens) for almost twenty years but his green wall on Jean Nouvel's building for the Musee de Quai Branly marks perhaps his transition to maintstream recognition.  His work includes interior and exterior spaces.  I visited the Branly shortly after it opened in 2006.

What I like most about Blanc's work is his horticultural variety and flair for mixing textures.  Above you have Hostas, next to creeping jenny (Lysimachia nummularia) that is interrupted by tufts of fern.

In the photo below, tendrils of Jasminum nudiflorum are tangled with Hosta leaves.  

Even more original, below, Heuchera is planted next to Mahonia.   I'd love to get back to the museum sometime soon and see how it's faring.  Including winter jasmine and Mahonia are imperative with an exterior wall, since the wall could look a bit bare in winter if the herbaceous plants die back. 

Lincoln Center Benenson Grove

When I was approaching the David Rubenstein Atrium space at Lincoln Center, I came across the new Charles B. Benenson Grove, near the south end of Lincoln Center.  The grove officially opened in May of last spring, and if you go to this link, you can see photos of it with the trees in leaf.  

From a distance, I immediately, unenthusiastically assumed that these trees were Carpinus betulus - the go-to plant for 'architectural' or 'contemporary' landscapes.  But the green-hued bark and the smaller buds quickly corrected that assumption.

 

A dried leaf - triangular in shape - was a clue that this was a species of aspen and indeed the literature on the aforementioned link names them as quaking aspens or Populus tremuloides.

  

A strange choice to me, since the trees (though lovely when the leaves flutter so easily in a summer breeze) are relatively short-lived and prone to pests and disease.  A colonial species, it's a tough survivor in its youth but as the plant ages it falls suspect to various problems.  Their placement also seemed curiously close together, considering they quickly can reach spreads of twenty feet.  As you can see, they are placed barely more than 5' apart.

Of course, I've already ranted today about overplanted areas once, so I don't want to belabor this point.  But, I think this planting could have been sufficient with probably half the specimens, unless of course the designers (uncredited in the link I posted above, but here Mathews Nielson is credited), anticipated that a percentage of the trees would fail more quickly than others. 

 

Indeed, wear and tear is already showing - I am really hoping that this damage occurred after construction and the construction administrator didn't miss out on rejecting such a rough-looking specimen! I'm curious what readers think -- I like Mathews Nielsen's work very much but am puzzled by this particular layout and species selection.