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Chronicle 3: The Thickest Slab of Concrete in Cleveland
This is the sunniest, driest area of the garden. It features a southwestern exposure and an appalling expanse of gummy blue clay. It was formerly the site of the central air conditioner, the garbage cans, a semi-functional gas grill, and the thickest slab of concrete in Cleveland. What can I say? Some people have all the luck.
When Murf agreed to allow a perfectly good concrete patio to be demolished and carted away, I knew I was really going to be able to make this a garden. But after all those years under concrete, the clay soil here was virtually impenetrable. I thought planting in whiskey barrels was going to be my only chance. Oddly enough, the breakthrough came when we had the basement waterproofed. The waterproofers dug a deep ditch all along the house, which was backfilled with gravel and about three feet of lousy topsoil. But at least it was loose! As a bonus, they bent the gas line leading to the grill, which hadn't really ever worked very well in the first place, so we got rid of that old eyesore, too. I bought Murf a new portable grill and got busy amending the soil. After I'd worked in as much organic material as I could get my hands on, I ordered two rosa rugosa "Albas" to put in one corner.
The rugosas were shipped very late that year (that was before I discovered the Roseraie at Granite Ridge). I ended up planting them well after Thanksgiving, the night of the first heavy frost - after work, in blinding snow, in darkness illuminated only by the car headlights. As an afterthought I stuffed in a clump of cranesbill that had been languishing in the garage, and a handful of snowdrops I'd accidentally dug up from another border several months before. Perhaps this unpromising nativity is the reason the poor things grew in their first two years to resemble vines, rather than the bushy shrubs they're supposed to be.
In the spring I put up a little bit of picket fence to hide the air conditioner (Note: drive-in fence posts are the way to go for little fences!). I put a window box on top of the air conditioner with a few miniature roses in it, and stuck Wynnie's favorite bench in front of it. She heartily approved of this arrangement and for a couple of years everybody was happy.
But after two savage prunings - one by a bleeding air conditioner repairman, and the other by several bleeding non-gardeners trying to blacktop our driveway - the rugosas behind Wynnie's bench sprang back with a vengeance and threatened to completely engulf it. Since Wynnie wasn't as capable of defending herself from the invader as were the various workmen, we decided to move her bench to a safer place. As a replacement, Murf bought us this lovely twig seat.
Since then, as the roses have continued to thrive, I have learned to
appreciate the aesthetic value of a well-pruned shrub and the meditative
qualities of a morning with my Felcos. Most days, it's even possible to
sit down without a suit of armor. A twig chair has recently joined the
bench, and the petting garden has somehow migrated over to surround them
both. In the late afternoon, this sunspot is filled with the intoxicating
fragrances of lemon verbena, sage, curry, rosemary, 'Biokovo' cranesbill,
and bourbon roses. Call me crazy - I prefer this to a slab of concrete.
March 1994
June 2002
under the concrete was impenetrable clay
raised beds and barrels
Wynnie's favorite perch
a new twig bench...
...swallowed whole
a well-pruned shrub
have a seat!
