Sue & Dave’s Garden Spring to Fall

 

 

We've spent 30 years turning a ruined suburban plot into a model of biodiversity and a space for natural recreation. We have deliberately mixed conifer and deciduous forest areas with meadow and woodland species in a way that ensures light for all. In a time of disappearing species, our land is a haven for birds ranging from the occasional hawk to ravens and doves and ever-present finches and hummingbirds, as well as thriving colonies of honeybees and bumblebees.

 

Poesy connections: "Leaves & Roots" in On the Bridge, "Ghazal for the Coming Spring" and "The Gardener" in Coming Home, "The Mechanics Beyond My Garden Fence," "cutting basil," and "The Rhododendron" in Silences for Love, and "planting salvia & marigolds in rain" in Turn the Wheel.

 

 

 

Dogwood blossoms in spring, front yard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Back yard.  I planted every tree but one on the property, and built all the garden beds as well.   This ground, once an abused trash heap, has now had 30 years of soil amendments ranging from horse and elephant shit (from the circus when it came to Ford Fieldhouse at the college) to sheet composted leaves and cedar chips.

 

 

 

 

 

View back toward the house, framed up by two hemlocks.

 

 

 

 

 

Trees in spring, left to right:  gingko, white spruce, Michigan fir, white pine (big one way in back), hemlock (barely visible), tulip tree (trunk, not yet leafed out), and black oak.

 

 

 

 

 

Large hemlock with white pine in background.

 

 

 

 

 

Red maple just beginning to leaf out.

 

 

 

 

 

Wisteria in bloom with deck behind.

 

 

 

 

 

Japanese Iris in front bed.

 

 

 

 

 

Roses, none of your hybrid teas, just the old-fashioned kind which take care of themselves and don’t get black spot.

 

 

 

 

 

My fabulous sexy lilies, Russian sage in background.

 

 

 

 

Purple clematis. 

 

 

 

 

 

Wild dragon’s tongue lilies—dunno their real name, but this’ll do for me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rogue volunteer sunflower (winks at all who pass  by).

 

 

 

 

 

Lavender (ah, lavender!)

 

 

 

 

 

The night-blooming cereus.  My grandfather had one, and it only bloomed once every nine or so years.  Ours goes off every summer on the orchid porch.  The flower also calls to mind my old poesy prof Robert Hayden’s famous poem.

 

 

 

 

 

White hibiscus on path from driveway.

 

 

 

 

 

Orange lily.  I love the balanced look of this flower, its deep orange and yellows.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My dad’s strawberry pot loaded with cacti and succulents.  This pot and plants winter over in the greenhouse.

 

 

 

 

 

Anemones, the darlings of late summer & early fall.

 

 

 

 

 

Oak & gingko in their autumn dresses.