Oudolf Field at Hauser & Wirth

Having visited and often written about Dutch designer Piet Oudolf’s garden on the High Line in many seasons – May, June, mid-summer and autumn; having blogged about his fabulous Lurie Garden in Chicago; but mostly having photographed and written about the seasons passing in the Oudolf-designed entry border at Toronto Botanical Garden, a few miles from my home, I was beyond excited to finally visit Oudolf Field at Hauser & Wirth Gallery at Dunslade Farm in Somerset, near Bruton.  First we walked through the gallery, one of 21 galleries worldwide founded originally in Zurich in 1992 by Iwan and Manuela Wirth along with Manuela’s mother, art patron and collector Ursula Hauser. The Somerset gallery resulted from the renovation of a collection of old farm buildings and is located near the Wirths’ home.  Like all their galleries, it features high-profile modern artists such as Americans Richard Jackson, below…

… and Paul McCarthy, whose silicone White Snow Dwarves, below, from the Ursula Hauser collection was displayed near the exit to the garden.

Leaving the gallery which was designed by Argentine-born architect Luis Laplace, visitors pass through a cloister garden designed by Piet Oudolf and featuring the sculpture Lemur Heads by Franz West.  Unlike the meadow beyond, this space contains woodlanders and shade-tolerant species.  

The small trees in this garden are paper mulberry (Broussonetia papyrifera) with their fuzzy, globular female flowers.

Martagon lilies were just beginning to show colour.

We began with a talk from head gardener Mark Dumbelton, who spoke about the beginnings of the garden and expanded on some of its challenges, mainly around the soil. Indeed, when we visited England was on its way to enduring the hottest June on record since 1884, according to the Royal Meteorological Society, and watering was being done by hand.  Behind Mark, I noticed the white inflorescences of….

Ornithogalum ponticum ‘Sochi’, a Russian native bulb that contrasts well with emerging grasses and makes a good cut flower.

Near the gallery is a naturalistic pond surrounded by pink flowering rush (Butomnus umbellatus).

You can see the pond at the left, below, on Piet’s colourful 2012 plan for the wildflower meadow in the Hauser & Wirth catalogue.  Spread out over 1.5 acres are seventeen curved, informal planting beds separated by a central gravel path as well as lawn paths between the beds and surrounded by an existing hedge, beyond which Piet planted trees.

He explained his rationale for Oudolf Field in the video below.  

With Mark’s talk finished, we were set loose in the meadow. I viewed it through spires of peach foxtail lily (Eremurus), a lovely perennial for early summer whose….  

….. tall inflorescences never fail to attract the attention of visitors – and bees! This one looks like the Dutch cultivar Eremurus x isabellinus ‘Romance’.  

I was intrigued by the ten turf circles in the central path through the meadow.  The path lets visitors stroll from one end to the other, but the playful circles relieve the tedium of this long expanse of purposeful gravel.  

They are so unlike Piet’s characteristic naturalistic style, but in fact they point to his pragmatic design knowledge and site adaptability. (Yes, he designs woodlands and knows shrubs and trees as well as his favourite perennials!) 

I was reminded in studying these circles of my own visit to Piet and Anja’s garden in Hummelo, Netherlands in 1999 which was designed in part to reflect one of his early Dutch influences, the great designer Mien Ruys (1904-99), the so-called “mother of modernist gardens”.  Both his famous hedges and circle gardens, below, were his interpretation of what has been called “contemporary formalism” by his frequent literary collaborator Noel Kingsbury.

I feel very fortunate to have spoken with Piet then, at the beginning of his international fame. I made a photo of him at their outdoor table with spring-flowering shrubs in flower around us. Anja was in their nursery (gone now) with customers, and their little dog sat in a chair nearby.

Back to Oudolf Field, the overwhelming mood here on June 9th was of soft pastel mauves and blues amidst the emerging green of the grasses and summer perennials. Eastern beebalm (Monarda bradburiana) native to the American southeast was in full flower in front of the blue blossoms of narrowleaf bluestar (Amsonia hubrichtii), a south-central American native that turns brilliant chartreuse-gold in autumn.   Emerging through the grasses were the big starry globes of star-of-Persia allium (A.cristophii).  

I had never seen Monarda bradburiana before spotting it in Piet’s design at the High Line years ago.  Like many of the plants he uses – and sometimes introduces to commerce – it has withstood his field testing at Hummelo. This compact species has the good characteristics of the beebalms, including pollinator appeal, without the negative drawbacks, such as powdery mildew.

I saw tall Carthusian pinks(Dianthus carthusianorum) in almost every garden I visited in June, including Sissinghurst and Hillside, the garden of Dan Pearson and Huw Morgan

Early June, following the explosion of spring bulbs and before the summer abundance of flowering perennials is sometimes considered an “in-between” time in the garden. That quiet interlude is helped immensely by the many ornamental onions, and Piet uses them to great advantage in all his gardens, both for their flowers and later seedheads.  Below, again, you see Allium cristophii along with the Corten steel edging used to delineate the beds.

After seeing Allium atropurpureum, below, amidst grasses, I came back to Canada and immediately ordered some for my own June garden.

Here is Allium atropurpureum with Amsonia hubrichtii.

… and with Oenothera lindheimeri, i.e. gaura.

Looking back to the gallery through the gardens, including dark-leaved penstemons.

Piet uses various low grasses as matrix plants, including Sporobolus heterolepis, below, and Sesleria autumnalis.

The weather was so warm the day we were there in this record-setting dry June, the assistant gardener was working full-time to water.

While the garden is situated within pre-existing hedges, Piet planted trees on the boundary to contain it further.

The Pavilion, designed by Chilean architect Smiljan Radić and installed in March 2015, sits at the end of Oudolf Field and is intended to “create a dialogue between the gallery complex and pavilion and their relationship with the garden”. Radić says it is “part of a history of small romantic constructions seen in parks or large gardens, the so-called follies.”  Built of white, translucent fibreglass with cedar flooring and set atop large quarry stones, visitors can view the garden from within the shell.     

Heading into the gallery for lunch, I passed the attractive bar — a work of art in itself.

It was a lunch I would have enjoyed much more if I hadn’t been feeling the beginnings of what turned out to be my first case of Covid in more than 3 years– and the unexpected and sudden end later that night of my wonderful English garden tour. But I was so delighted to have experienced yet another masterpiece in the always-varied oeuvre of Piet Oudolf.

A Love Letter to Smooth Solomon’s Seal

Each spring, I look with admiration on my drifts of an Ontario native plant that asks so little of me, but gives so much in return: Polygonatum biflorum, smooth Solomon’s seal.  Its tapered shoots emerge in April in my north-facing back garden, where the clumps under the black walnut tree that looms over my sideyard pathway are surrounded by the tiny flowers of the bulbous spring ephemeral Corydalis solida.

By mid-late May, looking back towards my garden gate, the corydalis has disappeared but the Solomon’s seals stand three feet tall.

It’s still early in the garden when they flower, the grasses in my deck pots still just inches high.

The colony in the back corner of the garden grows near a Tiger Eyes sumac and has as its neighbour fall monkshood (Aconitum carmichaelii ‘Arendsii’), not yet visible. Both enjoy the same shade-dappled, slightly moist, humus-rich soil.

It’s a testament to the travelling power of Solomon’s seals that they do sometimes subsume other plants. This ‘Ballade’ lily tulip – one of my favourites – is resisting.

But nothing keeps Allium hollandicum ‘Purple Sensation’ from rearing its pretty head.

My garden features a number of invasive plants – some native, like ostrich fern (Matteucia struthiopteris), others enthusiastic exotics, like my lily-of-the-valley, aka ‘guerilla of the valley’ (Convallaria majalis).  (I’ve written about that pest before in my blog about making a perfumed garden party hat!)  But Solomon’s seal is up to the challenge and can stand its ground.

One that didn’t fare so well in competition with the Solomon’s seals was wild geranium (G. maculatum), shown below in a photo from a previous spring.  

At the Toronto Botanical Garden, blue Amsonia tabernaemontana, shown in the background below, makes a pretty companion for Solomon’s seal.

I love the way the pearl-drop flower buds of smooth Solomon’s seal open, curling up their green tips like dainty skirts.

In November, the leaves turn yellow-gold.

Solomon’s seal and other woodland lovers were featured in ‘Shady Lady’, one of #Janetsfairycrowns from 2021, which I blogged about last year.

My next-door neighbour grows smooth Solomon’s seal as well; it met with the approval of the resident male cardinal.

Finally, speaking of cardinals, here’s a tiny video made in my garden featuring smooth Solomon’s seal with my regular choristers, cardinals and robins.

Fairy Crown #23 – Sedums, Pass-Along Plants & Fruit for the Birds

My 23rd fairy crown celebrates one of the great, hardy, late-summer-to-early-autumn perennials – sedum. Or should that be “stonecrop”.  And the Latin name?  Well, it used to be Sedum spectabile but now the big pink sedums have been renamed Hylotelephium spectabile. Let’s just call it by its cultivar name ‘Autumn Joy’.  But wait…. that cultivar was originally the German variety “Herbstfreude”.  Okay, you get the idea; DNA is analyzed; parental lines are revised; common names are confusing; and sometimes, the Germans got there first!  But what else is in today’s crown?  Well, the little coneflowers are browneyed susans,  Rudbeckia triloba, a biennial. The fuzzy yellow spike is Solidago sphacelata ‘Golden Fleece’.  And the fruits are crabapples from my dearly-departed ‘Red Jade’ crabapple and wild, native Virginia creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia) that likes to attach itself to my fence.

Sedum ‘Autumn Joy’ has a very long season of interest. In August, the green, broccoli-like flowerheads start their colour transformation, turning a light rose. It was at this point that I photographed my granddaughter Emma “watering” them. That’s rough blazing star (Liatris aspera) with the purple spikes nearby.

The photo below is at the height of flowering in the August pollinator garden, but the sedum takes its time in opening the tiny flowers.

When they do open a few weeks later in September, the colour a deeper rose, the echinaceas have usually finished blooming.

In the background in my city garden is Helianthus ‘Lemon Queen’, which I blogged about in Fairy Crown #21 at the cottage. 

Sedum flowers are irresistible to butterflies like the monarch, especially as they begin their southward migration. 

Bumble bees and honey bees, below, love the nectar-rich flowers too.

Sedum time in Toronto coincides with the September flowering of Solidago sphacelata ‘Golden Fleece’, below, a well-behaved, compact form of autumn goldenrod discovered by Delaware’s Mt. Cuba Center in 1985 and introduced to commerce a few years later.  I purchased it years ago and have been patiently dividing it ever since.

It is popular with pollinators, especially bumble bees.

When you have friends with beautiful gardens, you’re sometimes gifted with their favourite plants. That’s what “pass-along plant” means, and the one below, browneyed susan (Rudbeckia triloba) was a gift from my pal Aldona Satterthwaite.  It’s a biennial (green growth the first summer, flowers the next), so I’ll have to wait for its babies to pop up in my garden.

My crown also contains a few fruits from my garden, including the ripening fruit of native wild Virginia creeper….

…. and those from my ‘Red Jade’ crabapple, which sadly will need a replacement next spring.  The birds will miss it terribly.

But instead of ending on a sad note, I’ll finish with a bouquet to remember the flowers of Fairy Crown 23.

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Missed my blogs on my previous 22 fairy crowns? Here they are! #1 – Spring Awakening
#2 – Little Blossoms for Easter
#3 – The Perfume of Hyacinths 
#4 – Spring Bulb Extravaganza
#5 – A Crabapple Requiem
#6 – Shady Lady
#7 – Columbines & Wild Strawberries on Lake Muskoka
#8 – Lilac, Dogwood & Alliums
#9 – Borrowed Scenery & an Azalea for Mom
#10 – June Blues on Lake Muskoka
#11 – Sage & Catmint for the Bees
#12 – Penstemons & Coreopsis in Muskoka
#13 – Ditch Lilies & Serviceberries
#14 – Golden Yarrow & Orange Milkweed
#15 – Echinacea & Clematis
#16 – A Czech-German-All American Blackeyed Susan
#17- Beebalm & Yellow Daisies at the Lake
#18- Russian Sage & Blazing Stars
#19-My Fruitful Life
#20-Cup Plant, Joe Pye & Ironweed

21-Helianthus & Hummingbirds

#22-Grasses, Asters & Goldenrod

Fairy Crown #22-Grasses, Asters & Goldenrod

My 22nd fairy crown is a celebration of the ornamental grasses I grow at the cottage on Lake Muskoka.  The little seeds are from switch grass (Panicum virgatum); my “bangs” are big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii); and there’s also some pollen-laden Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans) there as well. The pale lavender flowers are a little aster that grows wild on our property, sky-blue aster (Symphyotrichum oolentangiense). The pink flowers are the New England aster ‘Harrington’s Pink’ (Symphyotrichum novae-angliae).

In fact, #22 was the most unruly of all my crowns to make, given that the grasses had long flowering spikes that were difficult to attach to the wire frame.  Here’s a little inside look at the nuts-and-bolts of fairy crown creation.

Many of my prairie grasses grow in the west meadow. In the photo below, you can see big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii) mixed with heliopsis, lanceleaf aster and various goldenrods.

When native switch grass (Panicum virgatum) is in flower and the sun shines behind it, it adds a beautiful sense of lightness to the meadow. I planted a few nursery pots of various cultivars of switch grass in the naturalistic garden beds on the property, but I also sowed seed of the species throughout the meadows and it is gradually filling in in many places….

….. including the lake shore.

It has a swishing, kinetic quality that makes sitting beside it in late summer a sensory experience.

And in autumn, switch grass turns colour, with some taking on red hues and others golden-yellow.

Big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii) is sometimes called turkeyfoot grass because the flower spikes branch into three segments that resemble a turkey’s foot.  It is native to southern Ontario.

By the time it blooms in early September alongside big bluestem, grey-headed coneflower (Ratibida pinnata) is usually showing off its oblong black seedheads.

Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans) is a stealth grass; one minute it’s in a tidy clump in a garden bed, the next minute it’s popping up in cracks between flagstones.  But it’s one of the native grasses I’ve encouraged to grow in the shallow, sandy soil of the west meadow.  I assume its deep, searching roots find cracks in the Precambrian bedrock that somehow approximate the deep soil of the tallgrass prairie that once covered millions and millions of acres of North America. That little aster peeking out from the Indian grass is sky-blue aster (Symphyotrichum oolentangiense).

I see it all over the countryside in Muskoka, but I adore the way it pops up amidst native species that I sowed in the meadows here, like wild beebalm (Monarda fistulosa), below, showing its late summer seedheads.

It’s one of those plants that is unassumingly charming – and new plants emerge in different spots each September.

But bees are sure to find it, including the orange-belted bumble bee (Bombus ternarius), below.

In my east meadow, September features another plant I received from the gardeners at Toronto’s Spadina House Museum – only this time, I purchased at their plant sale (unlike my cup plants, which were gifted to me by Spadina’s gardeners with a warning about their rambling ways.)  Meet Symphyotrichum novae-angliae ‘Harrington’s Pink’, below, partnering with sweet blackeyed susan (Rudbeckia subtomentosa).

Bumble bees are fond of ‘Harrington’s Pink’…. even if the flowers sometimes don’t fully open in my dry meadows and tend to look a little wonky…..

….. unlike the spectacular display this plant makes at Spadina House in early autumn, along with other cultivars of New England aster.

The goldenrod in my crown is not one you see in nurseries; in fact, it took me a while to identify it, but I think I have.  It is hairy goldenrod (Solidago hispida), native to dry, rocky places in a large swath of the northeast.

I’ll leave you with a bouquet I made many years ago that celebrates the big grasses, asters, seedheads and goldenrods that shine in my meadows at this time of year. The cowboy boot? Well, it just seemed fitting for this celebration of the prairie on Lake Muskoka!

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Here are the blogs on my previous 21 fairy crowns!

#1 – Spring Awakening
#2 – Little Blossoms for Easter
#3 – The Perfume of Hyacinths 
#4 – Spring Bulb Extravaganza
#5 – A Crabapple Requiem
#6 – Shady Lady
#7 – Columbines & Wild Strawberries on Lake Muskoka
#8 – Lilac, Dogwood & Alliums
#9 – Borrowed Scenery & an Azalea for Mom
#10 – June Blues on Lake Muskoka
#11 – Sage & Catmint for the Bees
#12 – Penstemons & Coreopsis in Muskoka
#13 – Ditch Lilies & Serviceberries
#14 – Golden Yarrow & Orange Milkweed
#15 – Echinacea & Clematis
#16 – A Czech-German-All American Blackeyed Susan
#17- Beebalm & Yellow Daisies at the Lake
#18- Russian Sage & Blazing Stars
#19-My Fruitful Life
#20-Cup Plant, Joe Pye & Ironweed

Fairy Crown #21 – Helianthus & Hummingbirds

My 21st fairy crown for the end of August features a few dependable meadow plants for late summer here on Lake Muskoka.  The light-yellow daisy is Helianthus ‘Lemon Queen’, a popular hybrid of two species, H. pauciflorus var. subrhomboideus, stiff sunflower, and H. tuberosus, native Jerusalem artichoke.  The dark-centered daisy is sweet blackeyed susan (Rudbeckia subtomentosa). The little white daisies belong to lanceleaf aster (Symphyotrichum lanceolatum), which occurs naturally in my meadows.  I’ve also tucked in another naturally-occurring native, stiff goldenrod (Solidago rigida).  The cobalt-blue flowers belong to a tender perennial from my deck containers: anise-scented sage (Salvia guaranitica ‘Black & Bloom’), a cultivar from Ball Floral that is itself a cross between two older (unpatented) cultivars ‘Costa Rican Blue’ and ‘Black & Blue’.

Sweet blackeyed susan, aka sweet coneflower, below, is my favourite of the Rudbeckia genus for a few reasons. First, it has the most perfect flowers, below, which are much larger than other Rudbeckia species, and carried at the top of stems on plants that can reach a height of 1.5-2 metres (5-6 ft).  Second, though it is native to the American midwest north to Illinois and Michigan, it is perfectly hardy in Muskoka. Third, it flowers at the end of summer when the meadows need more colour.  Fourth, it has an interesting scent that is reflected in its third common name, fragrant coneflower.

It isn’t a huge pollinator draw, but I’ve seen the odd wasp or bee foraging on the flowers.

It is classed as a wetland species, preferring moist to mesic soil. While we certainly don’t have a wetland on our property, it is very happy in our partly shaded hillside meadow and at the bottom of our property at the rocky lakeshore where its roots are frequently bathed by the wake from passing boats.

In my west meadow, sweet blackeyed susan blooms simultaneously with Helianthus ‘Lemon Queen’, below.  They seem perfectly suited to be sharing this area, along with cup plant (Silphium perfoliatum).

On the other hand, I have a large drift of ‘Lemon Queen’ under my stairs, below, and this planting is visible every time I go into the cottage. That means I get to see it flop its head (all its heads) when the weather is very dry, forcing me to drag the hose over to perk them up again – something I’d never do in the meadow.

Bumble bees are frequent visitors to Helianthus ‘Lemon Queen’.

This is also the time of summer for native lance-leaf aster (Symphyotrichum lanceolatum) with its panicles of tiny white flowers. It is reportedly allelopathic (i.e. secretes a substance that hurts plants growing near it), but unless I’ve misidentified it, it doesn’t seem to have impeded the growth of its meadow-mates, below.

Bees enjoy foraging on it, including my rare meadow guest below, the yellow-banded bumble bee (Bombus terricola).

Stiff goldenrod, another member of the big goldenrod clan is in bloom now, though DNA analysis has assigned it to a different genus. These changes take a while to percolate through the literature and commerce, so many sources still list it as Solidago rigida, rather than Oligoneuron rigida.  But it is an exceptional goldenrod, gradually forming clumps….

…. with strong stems topped by rounded clusters of tiny flowers.  Like all “goldenrods”, it is a bee favourite, like this orange-belted bumble bee (Bombus ternarius).

Though my fairy crowns thus far have featured plants growing in my Toronto garden or in my meadows on Lake Muskoka, the 21st edition contains a few spikes of a tender South American perennial that I take great care to overwinter indoors under a window in my basement laundry tubs in the city so I can have it in my cottage deck containers each summer.  These are my “motley pots”, below, and the plant I’m referring to is the anise-scented sage with the blue spikes, Salvia guaranitica ‘Black and Bloom’, which is difficult to find in spring in Toronto garden centres.  I made this photo in the summer of 2019, but each year has a different cast of characters in my “Hummingbird Photo Studio”.  (If you click on the preceding link, you’ll see the popularity of this year’s experimental hummingbird favourite: standing cypress, Ipomopsis rubra.)


Their all-time favourite, however, is Salvia guaranitica ‘Black and Bloom’, below….

Ruby-throated hummingbird nectaring in Salvia guaranitica 'Black and Blooms'

I have grown lots of hybrid salvias including ‘Amistad’, ‘Wendy’s Wish’ and ‘Amber Wish’, and they all attract hummingbirds.

Here’s a little video I made of the ruby-throated hummingbird on various plants in my containers through the years:

When I made this fairy crown, I had 2 out of 3 of my sons in attendance, as well as my husband, below, and they were all good sports in this serendipitous project.

They didn’t get the full-on fairy crown treatment like the grandkids, but I made them all wear meadow flowers, including my eldest son, right, and his partner….

…..and my middle son, below. Youngest son is off in Italy being married in less than 2 weeks! I plan to walk him down the aisle, but my fairy crowns have been instructed to keep up the show until winter!

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Meet my 20 previous fairy crowns!

#1 – Spring Awakening
#2 – Little Blossoms for Easter
#3 – The Perfume of Hyacinths 
#4 – Spring Bulb Extravaganza
#5 – A Crabapple Requiem
#6 – Shady Lady
#7 – Columbines & Wild Strawberries on Lake Muskoka
#8 – Lilac, Dogwood & Alliums
#9 – Borrowed Scenery & an Azalea for Mom
#10 – June Blues on Lake Muskoka
#11 – Sage & Catmint for the Bees
#12 – Penstemons & Coreopsis in Muskoka
#13 – Ditch Lilies & Serviceberries
#14 – Golden Yarrow & Orange Milkweed
#15 – Echinacea & Clematis
#16 – A Czech-German-All American Blackeyed Susan
#17- Beebalm & Yellow Daisies at the Lake
#18- Russian Sage & Blazing Stars
#19-My Fruitful Life
#20-Cup Plant, Joe Pye & Ironweed