Weedy Wonder in My Absence

I have always had a passion for ferns, and mosses, and that odd collection of plant-like green things that live in the in between world, things like liverwort, clubmosses, and horsetail. My loving fondness for them is a childhood thing. They were woodland friends, the bed where I would lay, away from the "other" world, and stare into the treetops, the woodland world a living omnimax of life.

The appeal was in their evergreen-ness. Regardless the season they always remind me life was there. Some ferns would fade, impress there fine shape on beds of Polytrichum, but the whole house was moist, the scent of rich humus, fertile.

When I learned their names they were even more enchanting. Rarely such things as stodgy Douglas-this, or obvious color name like white or red something. All the contrary. They were imaginary things - ferns of Deer or Maidenhair, Lace, Lady and Licorice; mosses of Rope and Beak and Broom. So when it came to My garden, this world of green on loan to me for my few years, I knew I needed shade, and wet, and and the scent of decay. There could be no other than a sasso, "weed garden", as Motomi Oguchi calls it, and within it a yarimizu, a small pond and side wetland.

The garden has been happily evolving in its weedy wonder in my absence; these many weeks away on the Gulf Coast. Ferns and mosses and horsetails have erupted. While I have been tracking oil on beaches the sasso has been washed in gentle rain, and mild days, the greens have taken over under an umbrella of cumulus. In every seam and surface a bright flush of fern and mat of moss has begun. Without a a single spade being turned, the garden has begun gifting.

Thank you Jenn for watching over it with great kindness.

Last Light in the Japanese Garden

Last Light,

Fading through black pine,

Falls on bamboo.

Back home in Portland and the Fall has drifted over the Northwest while I was away - the colors have not shifted, but the season has. Light is low, and warm, and gentle. There is no rush to it's traverse.

"Perfection is the measure of Heaven and the wish to be perfect is the measure of man."
- unknown

As much as I have "wished" my garden to be perfect in some fanciful place reserved in my mind, I am constantly aware that that garden is not what I am creating and that garden is not what I want. In its later years my garden will be its own garden, "zasso", sprouting, intertwining, layering, reaching skyward on its own. So it's Heaven, that gentle persuasion of wind and rain, pruning by sun and cold, the invisible force of other leafy-kinds by shade and gesture, and the nurture of nutrient tides beyond my sight, that will exact some measure of perfection within this plot I now call home.

When ever my vision drifts too far I return to my smallest gardens
- bonsais -
to remind me of the grand scale and my vision there.

photo: Acer japonicum 'Aconitifolium' - Fullmoon Maple

Japanese Gardening with the Pros

Hi All - not much news here lately - promise to change that, there are changes in my garden.

In the meantime, for those of you in the Portland area - or looking for an excuse to visit - there are a wonderful offering of Japanese gardening workshops this next few months.

Back to this blog soon - I promise Candi.

All the reason I need

For the past few days Yellow-rumped Warblers have been taking up residence in the garden - today they were "showering" in the spray of the sprinkler, six of them - that makes me happy deep in my soul; all the reason I need to be building this garden as slowly, carefully and thoughtfully as I have.

Another guests - Willow flycatcher and Cedar Waxwing

FALLing back into work

The past several weeks have been kind of quiet for me in the garden. Sunshine and near 90 degree temps kept the black shade tent in place and the baked ground just wasn't worth trying to hammer into. So instead, I spent weekends on my bike, out on the roads, watching nature's larger garden prepare for the shift that could only be days away. Then last week fall arrived - temps dropped into upper 50's and low 60's and overcast sky and on-again, off-again rains have started softening the soil.

I took down the shade tent constructed a couple months ago and the NE corner is now exposed to the elements. The cooler wetter weather has also brought about a lovely change to the garden - one of the great joys of a garden - hidden secrets: Leaves on several of the maples have begun the tintal migration and a lilliputian forest of fungi have erupted in the humus infused soil I amended in late spring. The fungi only last a day and exhaust their sporing caps, but daily a new, differently arranged forest erupts. I could not have asked for a more wonderful surprise!

Over the next few weeks several new progress posts will pop up as I plow back into several projects wanting attention - the new walls, bed-scaping, rock transfer, bamboo planting and eventually larger pine and maple tree plantings.

At last rain!

At last rain fell last week - after nearly 6 weeks of dry and of late scorching heat, the rain finally came to the garden. You could hear the collective deep breath and sigh from every plant, moss and lichen. Beyond my garden (and my own soaring summer water bill) over on my photography/travel blog - small planet perambulations - I'm giving growing thought to water issues, and what shape my next photo/film project will take around communicating our planet's thirst.

Back in this little garden, after almost a week reprieve, the heat is returning - today 90's, tomorrow 98 is predicted - I'm back to watering... and the Anna's hummingbirds, goldfinches, bush tits, song sparrows and other are soaking it in as well.