In the historic district of Rhinebeck, the location of my garden, the property lines are often defined by large shade trees planted 100 years ago, limiting the amount of light coming into the garden. Mine is definitely a shade garden, penetrated by occasional shafts of light, loose in its design, softer in its effect than sunny borders, its plants spreading out and multiplying in a somewhat haphazard fashion.
The first decision in planning a garden is the amount of privacy you need. I chose an open aspect so as to see a bit of the neighboring houses, the upper floors and rooflines, retaining the sense of a village.
To the West, I kept open the pleasing view into my neighbor’s garden and beyond. But my neighbor to the East has a large raised deck, a trampoline and a tent, so each year I increase the density of that border while trying not to appear unfriendly. In the rear of the garden towards the North a large crabapple softens the mass of the house behind. The Southern border is the rear wall of my house, the terrace, arbor and garden gates.
The second decision is coming to terms with your light limitations. Shade patterns vary, and plants respond to subtle differences. Partial shade is only two hours of mid-day sun; a few hours of early morning or late afternoon light constitutes light shade; horizontally branching trees provide filtered light while light coming through pinnate leaves of the Black walnut is best described as dappled.
The third decision is whether you plan to fight the limitations of your site, or ride with them. My garden has significant restrictions on what survives. The West border is lined with Black walnuts, known for toxicity to a large range of plants. If you are faced with this problem, there are a number of postings from agricultural colleges and arboretums listing plants both susceptible and resistant to Black walnut toxicity. As limiting as it may seem to be, the beautiful dappled light cast by Black walnuts more than compensates for the toxicity limitations.
The East border is under deep shade from both Silver and Norway maples. Their root systems are rambling and close to the surface creating a struggle for plants looking for room to expand. My solution was to use established plants of a decent size, so at least if they did not flourish they would grow slowly and steadily.
Most of the plants you are likely to buy will come from a nursery and be ready to plant. It’s another story if you are looking for mature or specimen plants. Then you should visit a large nursery, select your plants in the field and have them tagged for a future move. Since I planned my garden late in life and do not expect to be around to see the woody plants reach maturity, I tend to use large plants whenever possible.
Moving a large tree is a complicated process and may take place over several growing seasons. It is routinely root pruned to encourage the roots to grow to the center. The crown is pruned to encourage more compact growth, making the plant easier to move through several transport stages. If done at the right time of year (when the tree is dormant) and watered well for the first two years, the tree will hardly know it has been moved.
The Apple Tree: First Year After Installation
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There were only three shrubs in my garden when I arrived in 2011 – two Forsythia and a glorious Winged euonymus. – and they are still with me. Otherwise the backyard was a dedicated dog run, bordered by hog-wire fencing to keep the dogs in and everyone else out. It was a blank slate.
The plant palette was the result of the close working relationship with Gail Witter-Laird, the landscape architect who was the visionary for the best of this garden. Given the constraints of deep shade and Black walnut toxicity, this is our list for woody plants:
6 Japanese maples (Acer palmatum japonica) that are (or were) cornerstones for the design
2 Shadblow (Amelanchier canadensis)
3 Bottlebrush buckeye (Aesculus parviflora)
3 Fringetree (Chionanthus virginicus)
Various hydrangea (arborescens, tardiva, petiolaris)
Black tupelo (Nyssa sylvatica)
3 Witchhazel (Hamamelis Arnold’s Promise, Jelena, virginiana)
17 Sumac (Rhus aromatica low grow),
5 Privet (Ligustrum), languishing from lack of sun
2 Mockorange (Philadelphus), yet to bloom
1 Stewartia (S. pseudocamellia)
1 Japanese lilac (Syringa reticulata)
1 Red-vein enkianthus (Enkianthus campanulatis)
11 Red Chokeberry (Aronia arbutifolia brlliantissima)
7 American wintergreen (Gaultheria procumbens)
4 Siberian cypress (Macrobiota decussata)
1 Crabapple (Malus floribunda)
All the above were vetted carefully for Black walnut toxicity except a truckload of aronia that somehow slipped through the cracks. They did not survive, and I lost some of even the carefully vetted. The Siberian cypress did not make it through the winter. Neither did the wintergreen. Nyssa sylvatica, notoriously difficult to transplant, did not survive. The others behaved more or less as expected.
And then we were hit with an unexpected disaster. One by one five of the 6 key Japanese maples succumbed to verticillium wilt, a soil-borne pathogen. The diagnosis is not difficult to make. The tree dies back in large segments within a very short time period. When a branch is removed and sent off to a lab for analysis the entire vascular system of the plant is observed to be clogged; no water or nutrients are able to pass up through the soil and into the plant.
So now another constraint has been added to the plant palette. When you vet for Black walnut toxicity, and then add a screen for verticillium wilt, you are left with only a small handful of possible choices. Four of the Japanese maples have been replaced with Sweetgum (Liquidambar styraciflua), a totally different look. The Japanese maples were low and full, very gardenesque. The Sweetgums are tall and narrow, more park-like than garden. They produce prickly nuts that fall to the ground and are painful to tread on and collect, but I’m used to years of picking up after the Black walnuts.
I’ve added a few oakleaf hydrangea, taking seriously an off-hand comment of Michael Dirr’s that the only plants you can depend on to bloom in deep shade are Bottlebrush buckeye and Oakleaf hydrangea. As to the buckeye, you could not find plants more ungainly and less interesting for much of the year, but when they bloom it is heart-stopping. For a plant bible you cannot do better than the delightfully opinionated Michael Dirr’s Hardy Trees and Shrubs, the gold standard of amateur and professional alike for plant identification and selection.
Bottlebrush Buckeye in Bloom
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While it may seem discouraging at first, recognize that if you begin with a blank slate your garden will take about 20 years to approach maturity. Give it a good start by testing your soil (a subject for a later newsletter). Whatever you choose to plant, remember to water, water, water. The soil must never dry out and should be slightly damp to the touch at all times.
The best advice I can give is to read as much as you can. Garden books (and gardeners) can be divided into two categories. The plants collectors, those who hardly met a plant they didn’t like, and the aesthetes, those who focus on design and harmony. You can learn from both. And visit gardens, always carrying a camera and a notebook. You will want notes on not only the plants, but on structural details, paving patterns and gardening practices.
During these formative years, a reliable contractor will be your truest garden friend. All my initial plants came from Twin Farms in Millbrook and they did the installation as well. Watching the several days-long preparation of the beds was a lesson in itself. They have been utterly dependable, standing by all the fatalities and replacing plants when necessary.
Allow enough time for your plants to establish themselves. When you think you’ve made a mistake, remember that plants don’t read the books, and they often settle down happily in locations where they were expected to sulk. Keep in mind that a garden is a process, and there is always next season.