And in moments, my street is transformed into a rushing river, as the rain dumps on my roof, the sidewalk, the road.  Cars maneuver the slick street, windshield wipers clacking furiously.  All too soon it is over:  the rumbling stops, the rain slows, the torrent is once again a stream.  Eventually, all that can be heard is the last of the rain dripping down from trees, rooftops, telephone wires; a car zips down the road, leaving small splashes in its wake.

And while I was relishing the sight, the sound, the smell of that magnificent rain storm, millions of gallons of precious fresh water were being washed to the sea.  And swept up along with that water making its way to the ocean, was our great and colorful variety of trash and pollutants: cigarette butts, paper bags, condom wrappers, styrofoam, oil, and the list goes on.  The remnants of that rainstorm will be seen on our shores for days to come.  The creatures of the sea will feel its effects for much longer.

So, what to do?  It is yet one more of the many challenges our environment is facing.

The answer in this case is really rather simple: look at what Nature does.  Nature does it perfectly.  The rain falls; tumbling onto trees that slow the downpour, and roots that absorb the moisture.  It falls onto plants and soil that is rich and permeable.  It travels down through the earth replenishing our aquifers.  Along the way it is cleaned by the myriad of biological life forms that thrive there. Those aquifers then feed our springs and waterways.  On the last leg of the journey, the water evaporates and transpires back up into the atmosphere, where it forms clouds and begins the cycle once more.

So the answer to our challenge is to mimic Nature.  So simple.  Wherever we live, there is the opportunity to imitate nature’s process, to participate in the act of harvesting our rainwater: plant trees, get rid of impermeable surfaces, create healthier, more absorbent soils, capture rain off our roofs in rain-barrels, or divert it out into the garden where it can soak into the ground.

Imagine what could happen if every site became a mini-watershed?  Each lot would capture what rain fell on it, saving it, purifying it, participating in the cycle rather than flushing it out to sea?  What a difference that could make in our world.

This month, I have the tremendous good fortune to be working with G3 – Green Gardens Group as we join the team working on the LA Rainwater Harvesting Project.  This project is a great example of what we need to be doing all across the land:  working with communities and homeowners to educate and demonstrate what it could look like if each citizen used their property as a healthy functioning watershed that gathers rainwater as a resource rather than wasting it.

Pitter patter, pitter patter.  That is the sound of the rain, falling into my garden.

Now, I may sound carefree, but I do like to know where I’m going to put my head at night, especially during a long holiday weekend, so we did our due diligence.  After weighing our preferences and our budget, we settled on the Hotel Casa Munras, a boutique hotel about a 10 minute walk to the pier.  Nothing is perfect and the reviews on the hotel had included some negative comments, so I made sure when we got our room to ask for one that was quieter. Research does pay off, and we got a sweet little room just over the pool and rose garden.  And though the room did smell a little bit musty (you get used to it), the bed was very comfortable and the bathroom had just been remodeled, and I quite loved our little L’Occitane bath soaps.

The surprise bonus was the restaurant next door, Estebans, a cozy Spanish style bar and eatery that encouraged a welcoming buzz with its fireplace, tasty tapas and excellent service.

The other delightful eatery was a little café on Alvarado called Café Trieste.  It is the sister café to the original one in San Francisco, and I have to say it was one of the most delicious breakfasts I’d had in ages.  The food was simple, but really nicely seasoned, and surprisingly well priced.  And the coffee was dark, rich and intense – a great way to start the day.

After a great night’s sleep, we were up and ready to roll.  We discovered the hotel had bikes we could rent, and given the topography and easy access to everything we decided it would be a great way to explore Monterey.  It was perfect – there is a great bike path right along the water, and you can stop at a moment’s notice, pull over, and go again without having to fuss about traffic, parking or anyone else’s schedule but your own.

Looking Sporty at Monterey Bay

I don’t know what it was about riding the bike that afternoon that made me feel so lighthearted and happy.  Maybe it was the cool wind on my face, or how dorky I looked with my helmet on and one pant leg rolled up.  Or maybe it was being able to shout out like a 5 year old “Hey Mike, look at that,” as we pedaled past a beach covered with dozing harbor seals.

Harbor Seals Lounging in Monterey

The aquarium is definitely worth the visit.  It is beautifully designed with great exhibits and all kinds of interactive elements.  In more of my 5-year old moments, I stroked the starfish and hermit crabs, stood squished in the crowd to watch the otters feed, and shrieked like such a girl when we viewed the presentation on great white sharks.  An interesting fact, the top three white shark habitats are Australia, the oceans south of Africa and off the coast of California.

As the day drew to a close and the weather cooled, we pedaled our way back to the hotel.  Tired but happy, we stumbled back up to the room and sank into our welcoming bed, grateful to have shared this lovely day together.  My 5-year old then yawned twice, and drifted off to sleep.

But somehow, that tree manages to grow.  Though the soil is hard and barren, and the watering is inconsequential, somehow the branches reach a little higher for the sun, and the roots dig a little deeper towards the ground.

California Sycamore (Platanus racemosa)

Come spring, it catches a dream on the breeze.  From its prison, it dreams of wide open spaces, where its branches can grow, where the soil is rich and moist, where it is in the company of the ancient one, and its roots can intermingle like those of a lover.

The tree grows bigger, and somehow it survives while the others have fallen.  Its only company now are the cars on the street and the occasional dog who uses its lap as a toilet.    Even though a branch is mangled by a careless truck, still it grows – though now a little off balance.

The stakes are still there, the wire wrapped around the trunk, long forgotten.  And though once upon a time, they did their duty, holding the tree upright in buffeting winds, they now cut into the flesh of the ever expanding trunk.

Do trees cry, one wonders.  As this tree grows, as cell after cell pushes below the cells above it, the wires do not give.  And so it grows, until those wires are embedded so deeply we could not remove them if we wanted to.

And as the tree grows, so do its roots.  Having no place else to go, they sidle up and out, shifting dirt and cracking concrete, finding just a little relief.  ‘Aaaah,’ it must breathe in: some air, some room.  ‘Aaaah,’ it sighs again, stretching toes.

But the prison is meant to remain intact, and the men cannot have the tree leaving its limits.  And so one day they come with their saws blazing and their picks hammering, and they cut.  And they cut.  And they cut.

Do trees scream?  As their roots are slashed and their branches hacked.  As their bark is stripped, and their tops lopped.  Do they scream?

Or perhaps, in their agony they drift away to a better place.  Perhaps they dream: of a place high up on a mountain where the air is still clean.  Where the splash of the nearby stream soothes their parched souls.  Where the cooling of the temperature slows their blood and their leaves burst out in an explosion of color?  Where their branches are filled with birds and insects that build homes in their hair.  And when the breeze rifles thru their leaves, and a sweet shudder runs thru their limbs, do they quiver in delight?

Do trees dream?

Coast Live Oak (Quercus agrifolia)

At the age of 8 my parents nudged me into the world of theater.  Perhaps they thought it would help me with my shyness.  Perhaps, being artists themselves, they believed that everyone needed to discover their creative abilities.  I ended up studying with A.C.T’s student program in San Francisco.  I then went on to get a theater major at San Francisco State, and finally, in 1988, moved to Los Angeles with my sister to pursue ‘the dream.’  But for whatever reason, whether my skin wasn’t tough enough, or I simply didn’t believe I could do it, once my daughter was born, I let go of that dream altogether.

But here’s the interesting thing:  even though I let go of the dream, the dream didn’t let go of me.  Even though I discovered an exciting new profession as a landscape designer; and even though I delighted in the journey I’d undertaken as a writer that little voice just kept on nudging.  It whispered that I still wanted to be up on stage, in the spotlight, reading my work.

Now doubtless, as many actors can attest, there is something to be said about changing costumes in a cold alley, playing to the near empty theaters, and finding yourself paying dues just for the privilege of getting up on a stage, that does wear thin with age.  And it certainly made the resistance all that more understandable.  As did understanding all the underlying fears.  After all, what if my writing wasn’t any good?  Or what if it was good, but I’d never be able to write anything as good again? Or perhaps the worst fear of all, what if it was simply ordinary…?

But as they say, ‘the truth will out.’ And one afternoon, after sharing my frustration with a friend, I committed to researching and performing at an open mike.  On December 14, after a 20 year hiatus, I finally got back up onto the stage as a performer.  And it was stepping back into the river, and yet, different.

It was still a tiny black room, with a small raised stage, the lights shining bright in my face.  The audience was eclectic, full of other performers, but oh, so supportive.  There was the same tumble of butterflies in my belly as my trembling fingers put the pages down on the podium.  I told them, my new friends, that I hoped it was just like riding a bicycle.  And I began to read.  In the beginning conscious of the effort – to speak slowly, loudly, to look up at the audience.  But after the first poem, I recognized the waters, and I was swept up, by the words, the characters, the emotions.  Yes!  I thought when I was done and the applause had ended.  Yes!  That’s why we do it.  We do it because for those moments on stage we are transported.  We become another being, rich in passion and emotion.  We are so present, so alive, nothing else matters except expressing what is on the page and what is in our heart.

And for me, as a writer and a re-born performer, it brought the creative process to its rightful conclusion:  the poem – written, spoken, and heard.

So as 2011 comes to an end and I look forward to the promise of 2012, I can count December 14 as a huge accomplishment.  For on that day, I realized that change happens when the need finally becomes greater than the fear.   On that day, I brought one of my great joys back into the light.

I look forward to bringing this old/new passion dancing into the new year.

Wishing you all a joyful, passionate, abundant new year!

There are however, lots of other ways to fill the space that is normally reserved for lawns:  ways that are colorful, interesting, and much more sustainable.  There are options  such as low growing natives, sedums, and other drought tolerant groundcovers such as dymondia.  But what if your client really wants something that looks like lawn?

So, I went to the great grass guru himself, John Greenlee, to ask for his recommendations.  Not only did I want to know which variety of plant to use, but I wanted to know what I needed to do to create a successful result.  Because, how often have you walked by a ‘lawn alternative’ and thought it looked a little messy, or brown, or worse?

So though he prefaced the conversation by telling me that ‘nothing is perfect,’ there were definitely some things that could greatly improve the chances of getting what you were envisioning:

1.  Preparation is absolutely everything!  If you currently have turf, and do not make sure that you get rid of absolutely every last bit of grass seed, rhizome and stolen, you will quickly become frustrated as the Bermuda reclaims your grasslands and all your hard work is lost.  And though I take pride in being a sustainable landscaper, according to John, sometimes there is nothing else that works like Round-up.  This is the process he suggested:
1. Water and fertilize your existing lawn for about a week,  – yes, that’s right.  Water and fertilize.  From what he explained, Round up works best on an actively growing lawn.
2. Apply an even application of Round-up, let it set for about 7-10 days before you scrape.  Still watering.  Note, Round up does not work nearly as well in cooler weather when grasses are going dormant.
3. After you scrape the existing turf, water and fertilize again, to germinate any remaining grass.  Remove as necessary.  Another spot spraying of Round-up may be necessary.
4. He sometimes will add a thin layer of bark to the top of the soil; thin enough for the weeds to come up, but enough to prevent a mud pile while the work is in process.

As you can see, this is not a quick process.  But taking the time to eradicate as many of the weeds as possible will go a long way towards success.

2. Selecting the right variety.  John has several beautiful books on grasses (which I’m looking forward to getting for Christmas).    For my particular situation, he recommended the Carex pansa.  What adds to the confusion on this question, is that Carex pansa and Carex praegracilis are often sold interchangeably, and they are not the same plant.  The Carex pansa that he grows is evergreen,  tolerates sun or light shade, can be planted any time of year, and can be kept to about 2-1/2 – 3”.  Once established, it needs only to be mowed 4-6 times per year.  In areas that are more shady he suggested several varieties including Carex remota, texensis, & carex tumulicola, but one of the best ones was Carex divulsa.
3. Establishing the lawn.  What was really interesting was that he mentioned several times that if you wanted these carexes to look like lawns, you needed think about what makes a lawn grow.  True, these carexes do not need nearly the water or the fertilizing that a traditional lawn does, but they do need to be watered so they don’t dry out, and they do need fertilizer, especially nitrogen, to grow properly.  Recommendations for planting:
1. Plant plugs (much cheaper than 1 gallons) anywhere from 4” – 18” o.c, depending on budget and how quickly you want the plants to grow in
2. Do not let them dry out.  He suggested watering every day the first week;  every other day the second week; and every third day the third week to get them established.  And try to give them a little extra during the Santa Anas.  One of the major reasons the lawns fail is that since they are supposed to be more ‘drought tolerant’ many folks under water them.
3. Once they have a chance to get a bit settled (about 5-6 weeks), give them their first haircut: weed whacker, shears, mower, it didn’t seem to matter.  By giving them a quick chop, it stimulates their side growth and encourages a quicker filling in.  He recommends doing that every 4-6 weeks until the grass has grown in.  Come warmer weather, they will grow like gangbusters.

So now I know much more about grasses than I did before, and am most grateful to John for having shared his time and knowledge.  Hopefully, I have interpreted his recommendations correctly, and I look forward to creating beautiful, sustainable lawn alternatives.

Now that may seem like a ridiculous question.  Of course I’m smarter than a slime mold.  Wait, what’s a slime mold?

I actually had little information on what they were or what they were capable of until I heard Paul Stamets speak at the Bioneers Conference held this October in San Rafael.  Nicknamed the ‘mushroom man,’ Paul is a man who speaks passionately about fungi.  Now, being a landscaper, I was familiar with the importance of fungi to healthy soils, but by the time Paul was done, I was beyond amazed at what this organism was capable of.  http://www.bioneerslive.org/VOD/VOD14/vod1501.html

Amanita muscaria (Katja Schulz)

An organism that is believed to be over 550 million years old, its potential benefits to mankind are endless.  Already known for their potential curative powers, Paul spoke at length about using fungi for soil remediation.  In one case, he had grown fungi to place in a swale in order to clean up contaminated tributary waters before they joined the nearby river.

They have also been used at Chernobyl, and are now being utilized as we continue to clean up the oil spill residue in the Gulf.  Paul has been able to grow them on straw logs and set them adrift in the water to absorb the mess that still lurks there.  It came as no surprise to him that there were varieties of mushrooms that could tolerate the salt water, again proving their diversity.  He also believes that they are the answer to cleaning up the radiation that has poisoned the area around Fukushima – though that will take decades, if not longer, to re-mediate.

But for me, one of the most intriguing parts of his presentation was his description of an experiment that was done with slime molds.  A map of Japan was placed on a table, and on that map, they placed small dabs of oat flakes (a slime mold delicacy) on Tokyo and other major cities in the country.  Then they set the slime mold free on Tokyo. No, this was not a horror film, but rather an experiment done in collaboration with Japanese engineers when they were researching the best way to expand their existing railway system.

Slime Mold Overtakes Japan

Initially, the mold made their way to each of the dabs in rather arbitrary ways.  But, over the course of 26 hours they re-organized and refined their pathways to each of the communities until they had literally created roadways.   The photograph speaks for itself.

What they found at the end of the 26 hours was that not only had the slime mold defined the most efficient way to connect each of the cities, but that it had done it more effectively than the designers themselves!

So whether fungi can be used to clean our soils and waters, aid in curing cancer, or solve the design dilemmas of our 21^st century engineers, the possibilities are mind-boggling.

What mystery and magic exist in this ‘lowly’ organism?  Potentially the healing of mankind and the planet itself.   And once again, it is a reminder that from the smallest of the earth’s creatures to the largest, each has something to contribute, each is tied into the complex web that sustains our existence.  And every time one of them, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, disappears, who knows what wisdom disappears with it?

Fall Color - Ginkgo biloba (maidenhair tree)

Fall.  You can smell it in the air.  You can feel the slight chill in the early mornings.  And you can see it in the changing color of the sky.  For me, living in Santa Monica, I am relieved at the easing of the crowds.  And I welcome the shift in pace as the weather cools and the energy shifts from languorous summer to more refreshing fall.

Of course, fall can be a challenging time in the garden.  By summer’s end, plants seem a little tired, blooms have faded, and the garden just doesn’t seem as vibrant as it did earlier in the year.  But, though we may not get quite the explosion of fall color that other parts of the country get, there are still many delightful options for enjoying your garden at all times of the year.

Pruning & deadheading: This is actually a really easy way to get a second wind in your garden.  Living in Southern California, we are blessed with fair weather long into the year.  By simply cutting back many of your blooming perennials, you can easily extend the color in your garden into November.

A prime example is the reliable and prolific Mexican Sage which can get rather scraggly this time of year.  I had always been told to cut it back in the winter.  However, while working with a wonderful landscape crew, I learned that if you cut it back now, you can usually have a full shrub back in time for Thanksgiving.  She cut it back to the ground two weeks ago, and there are already new shoots coming back up.

Berries & Fruit: Very often, when we think of color in the garden, we think of flowers, and rightly so.  However, there are other options for bringing drama into the garden, especially in fall and into winter.  There is a wide assortment of plants that produce brilliantly colored berries and fruits, providing variety and interest in what might otherwise be a rather ordinary landscape.

Holly (ilex) easily comes to mind.  This evergreen shrub is a deep rich green that makes a great hedge, with the added bonus of bright red berries that start in fall and last into winter – just in time for Christmas.

Pyracantha (firethorn)

The Firethorn (pyracantha) is another great example.  This plant is more architectural in shape, and makes a wonderful espalier up against a wall.  Come fall, the berries range from orange to deep red, hanging like tiny jewels against their green backdrop.

Finally, there is the Persimmon (diospyros), which not only provides color, but is edible as well.  I remember a few years ago visiting the Huntington in November, and noticing several Persimmon trees in the parking lot.  Their deep orange fruit hung on bare branches like Christmas ornaments, brightening up the day with their brilliant color.

Leaf Color: The price we pay for not living in a colder climate is that we don’t get the fall color they get in other parts of the country. (Alas, those are the trade offs).  But, there are some plants that produce beautiful fall color as the days cool, reminding us that the season is indeed changing.

Maidenhair Tree, more commonly known as the Ginkgo, is a tree that is seen more and more frequently in Southern California along with the Liquidambar.  Both of these trees are tall and upright in shape, and are great to use to screen your neighbor’s second story window.  The Ginkgo turns yellow in fall, and with their translucent leaves backlit by the setting sun, these trees nearly glow in the garden.

There are also several vines that change color in the fall.  One of my favorites is the native California grape, Vitis ‘Roger’s Red. It spreads quickly, and is spectacular against a brick wall.  Three years ago, I planted several of these in a client’s garden.  Last Christmas, they gave me a jar of their homemade grape jelly.  They admitted it did take quite a few of the little grapes to make the jelly, but they had a blast making it, and we thoroughly enjoyed eating it!

Native California grape

Living in Southern California, we often hear that we don’t have four seasons.  But I beg to differ.  Granted, our seasons don’t look like Colorado (and I don’t have to own a down jacket), but we do have four unique and special seasons.  And so, with a little forethought and planning we can create a garden that highlights and celebrates each one of those seasons in style.

So, this weekend, tuck into the sweater you may just have pulled from the closet, take a deep breath of that refreshing air, and enjoy.

My father was a true renaissance man, who loved learning above all things.  He would quote Shakespeare and Jung, play Mozart on the piano, paint, and write poetry and prose.  He was always sharing his words of wisdom, though we as children we rarely paid attention.  But there are two phrases that have stuck with me thru the years.

First, he would tell us often to ‘cultivate our gardens.’  Of course, he meant it in the most general sense, having no idea where my career would take me.    To him, I believe it meant that we take care of our heart, our spirit, our passion, and not let outside events spin us off our center.  And as an artist, it was so important to him that we express our creativity in what ever way we were destined to.   I do love the fact that though he did not live to see my change in career, his words were beyond prophetic.

Secondly, he often used to say ‘the map is not the territory.’  And this one I have found to be deliciously true and amazingly freeing.  It gives us guidance without limiting us.  It gives us direction without inhibition.  I find that I apply this frequently to my landscape designs.  Though I spend many hours trying to figure out how the garden will lay out, it rarely ends up getting installed exactly the same way.  For some reason, the size of things is deceptive on paper.  Plants come together in different ways.  An image from a magazine inspires a new approach.

And it is exactly the same pleasure I used to find when I performed improvisation in the theater.  When it’s all flowing the way it is supposed to, inspiration and experience come together to create unforeseen delights.   There is a dialogue with the plants, the curves, the stones.  Things shift, colors blend, and all of a sudden, there is the ‘aha’ moment.  When it all falls into place.  That’s it!  I think, that feels right.  And the garden evolves in a new way.

So, on this beautiful Sunday afternoon, think of all the ways that you can cultivate your garden, both physically and spiritually.  And find joy in the thought that though we may plot and plan, if we open ourselves up to the flow, the outcome may very well be an unforeseen delight.

La Tuna Canyon photos by Camron Stone

This time around, I decided, I would not sit passively by and let it happen again without putting up more of a fight.  So I decided to go the hearing at the DPW to learn more and find out how we could come to a different conclusion.  And I have to say, it was a great lesson on so many levels.

First off, I realized it is nearly as negligent to simply pick up the picket sign and protest without taking the time to more fully understand the situation.  It is not enough to simply say ‘no.’  The problem is very real: After the Station Fire millions of cubic feet of sediment washed off the burned hills and flowed into the reservoirs.  The muck clogs up valves that release the water, the build up of sediment prevents infiltration into the aquifers, and the increase in sediment limits the amount of water that the reservoirs can contain.

Back in the day, various debris basins had been purchased by the County specifically to be used to dump the sediment as it built up.  But we are now decades later, and our environment more and more degraded, and we cannot continue using the existing solutions.

So this meeting was about looking beyond just the single project and instead developing a long term sediment management plan.  The hearing was about laying out the framework for developing the plan, and asking for public input.  They provided several presentations from DPW, Fish and Game, and Water Resources.  Then they asked the audience to review the factors being considered in selecting the debris basins: technical feasibility, cost, environment & social factors.

And I kept thinking about some of the things I learned in a permaculture class last year: ‘The problem is the solution.’  Or,’ it is so much easier to mitigate a problem when it is small rather than when it is barreling down on you at 100 miles an hour!’  So I think we need to look at a bigger question:  Is ‘dumping’ the sediment the solution at all?  Perhaps we need to consider a different paradigm all together?  Those mountains will be there for thousands of years, and the hills will continue to burn and the rain will continue fall.  So the solutions we develop need to be integrated and sustainable.

The next step in developing the plan is to form a task force comprised of various stakeholders both engineers and environmentalists (though some were surprised that no members of Sierra Club or the Native Plant Society had been invited to join).  Scoping meetings will also be held along the way to allow for public input as the plan evolves, and at least one EIR is in the works for one of the reservoirs.

La Tuna Canyon photos by Camron Stone

There is no magic solution to this problem, but I have to believe that we are all looking for a solution that works: one that solves the problem without having to sacrifice pristine woodlands and habitat to do it.

And I want to believe that the Department of Public Works is acting in good faith.  That they realize that plowing under that oak grove in Arcadia was an atrocious error.  One that cannot be repeated.

But even as I want to believe, I also realize that we often take the path of least resistance.  Would the DPW have sought any other solution if it hadn’t been for those citizens who spoke out and said ‘we won’t let that happen again?’  Those hundred or so folks there yesterday, representing hundreds more that are not going to sit idly by and let it happen again?

And so, we, as citizens, speaking not just for ourselves but for the voices of those who have none; we must step up and make sure that DPW doesn’t just slip one by again because we weren’t paying attention.  By not taking action, we are in fact giving our permission to proceed.

The following link takes you to some beautiful photos of what it is we are seeking to protect.

La Tuna Canyon Photos by Camron Stone

There is also a new organization Urban Wild that has been founded to help protect our habitat from becoming dumping grounds for the DPW. http://urbanwild.org/

And finally, let them know what you think.  Everyone has to answer to someone else.  contact your County Supervisors, and the DPW.

Salvias in the garden

Gardens are the place where I create something beautiful for my clients.  They are spaces that welcome friends or invite contemplation.  My gardens encourage people to move beyond their air-conditioned rooms into the cooling shade of the elm tree.  And they are where I take a canvass of dull green grass and turn it into an explosion of color, movement and life!  So, it was interesting that when I began my design for the Santa Monica Airport Sustainable Demonstration Garden, the driving force was the desire to create a garden that connected with its neighborhood.

In my own life, I am blessed to live in a home with a front porch.  When the weather warms up I love sitting out on the wooden swing with my husband, my cat and a cool glass of ice tea.  Watching the world, as it slows down and makes its way past my front yard.

I get to peek as folks walk by, lost in their own conversations, while others stop to say hello, and inquire about some plant growing wild on the fence. When I want to, I can slouch into a chair reading my book, or sit, lost in my thoughts. Or, I can step out beyond the greenery and reach out to the passerby with a friendly ‘hello.’   I can be either observer or participant; the choice is mine.  Somehow over the years, this wonderful, gentle transition from private space to public evolved: an overgrown wisteria, a lacy currant (Ribes), a vibrant redbud (Cercis).

That sensibility is what I wanted to create for the demonstration garden.  I wanted the space to have a sense of privacy and yet connection to the street.  I didn’t want a wall or a hedge.  We have too much of that already:  too much isolation and separation.  I wanted community.

Santa Monica Airport Sustainable Demonstration Garden - Poetic Plantings

So I created an outdoor room, tucked into a garden of lush sustainable plantings, with an olive that stands sentinel as both doorway and canopy.  And I can imagine the inhabitants now, as though thru a viewfinder.  A group of friends, clustered around a table: laughing, eating, drinking, doing the things we do when we are in communion. They are surrounded by lavenders and sages, hummingbirds and butterflies, and the sweet sound of splashing water that echoes in the background.

On a glorious Spring day, a neighbor passes by, and wishes them a ‘Good Morning.’ And from the table an arm rises up in salute.  Then with a wave of a hand, they are invited in to take a seat, join the gathering, stay a while and have a bite – to connect.