Hartley Magazine

All the latest news, hints, tips and advice from our experts

Ethne Clarke

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Journalist, author, editor, Ethne gardened in England for 25 years before returning to the USA, since when she has made gardens in four US climate zones. Ethne now lives in Colorado Springs where she is meeting the challenge of planting on a prehistoric sand dune at the foot of Pikes Peak in Rocky Mountains. Best known for her books on the history of landscape and garden design, Ethne’s latest book, The Midcentury Modern Landscape, was published in the USA by Gibbs Smith USA, in the UK by Frances Lincoln as The Mid-century Modern Garden: Capturing the Classic Style, and by Ulmer, France as La Modernité des Années 50.

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Make a Garden for all Seasons

 Before you put this little book away

Please promise me that will never say:

“You should have seen my garden yesterday.”

 It’s been my good fortune to visit a great many gardens in my career as an author of books about garden design, history and, well, gardening in general. In so doing, I have also met the people who made the gardens, designed and cared for them, and more often than not, greeted me with the last line of that little stanza penned by Reginald Arkell, c. 1934. It didn’t matter how gorgeous the garden was looking in the eyes of this beholder, the garden owner could, seemingly, see only the imperfections. Not that I’m not guilty, pointing out a weed, a plant that’s not up to scratch, or one that would look better somewhere else … like the compost heap.

This autumn I’ve had plenty of opportunity to grumble, as there’s not been any rain for what seems like months, but in reality it was only weeks, which was long enough to make perennials go weak at the knees, but perfectly timed with drops in temperature to make the mountains and our Front Range gardens as vibrantly colored as anything the New England landscape could present. Which brings me, at long last, to my point, and a new direction: reduce perennials and Plant. More. Shrubs. especially ones known for good autumn color or bright berries.

Pyracantha coccinea, commonly called scarlet firethorn, has been a stunner this fall: a dense thorny shrub with small, glossy green leaves, it grows quite tall, and in spring is covered with clusters of bee-friendly white flowers that make the autumn show. It’s well suited to dry, sandy soils

When a shrub is as heavily laden with berries as this firethorn is, it is said to indicate a hard winter. We’ll see!!!!

If your focus is to cultivate beauty but limit the number of plants (ahem…perennials) you need to invest in, consider the ground covering shrubs. Rhus aromatica ‘Gro-Low’ is elegant in the way it spreads low growing branches that in autumn are flame red and orange, and in spring racemes of white pearly flowers held above the shiny leathery green foliage.

Rhus aromatica, commonly known as fragrant sumac, is a good all rounder for low-growing shrub that pops with color in the autumn.

Or check out Ceratostigma plumbaginoides, aka blue-flowered leadwort. It’s more of a carpeting sub-shrub or perennial; in spring the sky-blue flowers dance over the dark green leaves that turn shades of burgundy and dark red before leaf drop and retreating underground to pop up in spring.

Even at the tail-end of the season, blue flowered leadwort has something to say for itself. The seedheads are especially attractive and sprays of it are useful fillers in flower arrangements for the Thanksgiving table.

So many late season shrubs like this require little attention other than a clip over when the fall show is finished. Add to them some native grasses and the shades of autumn will carry you gently into winter.

Bouteloua gracilis ‘Blonde Ambition’ holds onto it golden leaves and seedheads will into winter. But be advised, if it’s not cut back before the seed drops, you’ll have, as I do, seedlings staking a claim throughout the garden. But they’re easily dug up to give to friends. And much more manageable than prairie bluestem!

There’s an old gardening adage, that if you want to make the most of your garden, it’s best to keep in mind its limitations. Wise words that have never stopped me; ten years ago, in the mad first flush of making my new garden I planted clumps of prairie bluestem, Andropogon gerardii. It is truly stunning, turning to ribbons of steely blue-grey tinted oyster shell pink in autumn. But it’s a plant of the tall grass prairie ecosystem that grows up to 10ft tall with roots that reach down to China! All I can say is it’s a good thing I love it, because it is here to stay. But as I point out my error to gardening friends, I now add that sometimes it pays to curb your enthusiasm.