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Sunday, May 6, 2012

Explosion at the China Factory: Garden Art for the Artistically Inept

I once showed a friend a picture of a beautiful handmade birdhouse.  Exquisitely   crafted and sold through an art gallery, it was the work of an artist with a unique talent. While I dreamed up ways of paying for it, she looked it over and casually remarked, "I could make that." You can?? I was shocked. Not only did I have no idea of how to begin such a project, I didn't want to. I simply wanted to own it.

Last summer, in the midst of realizing my garden was in need of a huge makeover, I decided it also needed a little funk, soul, groove, mojo. Call it what you will, but my garden needed a jolt of personality, especially the front porch. Shady and often forgotten about while I concentrated on the larger garden in the back, my front porch was a dismal desert of blahness. In my desperation to find something that would grow without needing an aquatic IV, I stuck birdhouses in large pots, planted creeeping bramble in the front, and called it a day. But what I really wanted was a cool piece of art I could stick on the front porch to add some color and funk. Interested in mosaics, I soon realized large pieces were vastly beyond my garden budget. In a moment of stress and sleep deprivation induced insanity, it occurred to me that maybe I could make my own.


My mosaic pot is filled with periwinkle (vinca) vines. They are still quite small but the enormous 'Baltyk' clematis is happily growing over the top of the pot. A small round birdhouse is potted in the grey urn, but the clematis has devoured that, too.

I began an internet search of mosaic garden projects only to discover web pages with multipage directions requiring supplies I wasn't interested in buying and didn't know how to use. But I'd seen enough pictures of incredible mosaic art, that I just kept searching for directions that made sense to someone as artistically challenged as myself. When I finally found them, they went like this: "Take a hammer and smash stuff and then get concrete and stick the stuff to other stuff." I'm not sure what rocket scientist wrote these heart softening words, but I figured if that was all it took, I could possibly succeed.

A few trips to the thrift store and Lowe's later, I was ready to begin. I had decided to wrap the ceramic plates in newspaper, stuff the bundle in a plastic bag, stick the bundle in an empty storage container and then begin smashing. Then I waited. Several heated conversations later with my angst-ridden teenage son, I headed to the basement, a hammer in hand. Clad in pajamas, a dog chewed baseball hat, and goggles, I grabbed the plates and started smashing. The release was profound, cathartic, and wonderfully loud. What I lacked in artistry, I made up for in teenagers. The final plates were smashed by my daughter and her best friend after both having emotional, "I hate boys because they smell and are stupid" days at school.

Creating my mosaic took a year and is best viewed from a distance. From across the street, I am the mutant genius lovechild of Picasso and Michelangelo. From the porch, I am a lunatic with a hammer and too much concrete. But if I can do it, ANYBODY can do it.


My pot came out just like me: colorful and a bit funky.


I didn't bother to grout it since it was so uneven and the ceramic plates were of different thicknesses.


Step One: Buy a pot.  


Step Two: Go to a thrift store and buy ceramic/china plates. Tell the sales clerk not to wrap them since you're going to smash them, anyway. Enjoy her confused expression. 


I chose plates with bright colors in either florals or solids.



I used the round lip on these plates to form the edge of the design near the top of the pot.


Step Four: Smash the plates!


I didn't use the green glass pieces since they didn't show up well against the concrete.


I eventually separated them into color families. 


Step Five: Mix equal parts wood glue and water and then brush onto the surface of your pot. Let it dry.
Once the pot had been primed with watered down wood glue, I mixed this with enough water to make a thick mixture. Using a cheap triangular shaped trowel I found with the masonry supplies at Lowe's, I applied a blob of concrete onto the pot, spread it fairly evenly and then stuck on a piece of smashed ceramic plate. It was really easy.


I turned my front porch into a workshop.


I added the flat marbles because I wasn't sure I'd have enough ceramic pieces. I like the contrast of their smoothness against the rough texture of the concrete.


Once I was finally done, I stuffed the bottom of the pot with bags of sand to give it stability. 


I wedged a piece of styrofoam into the pot above the sand to give the flower pots a level surface to sit on.


I found two pots in the garage to use for the plants. Since they won't be visible, I didn't care what they looked like.


The pot doesn't have a drainage hole, so I put an aluminum tray leftover from the project under one of the pots and an old plastic drainage tray under the other.


Goodbye, Dismal Desert of Blahness! Hello, Happy!

NOTE: I discovered after posting this that several of the plates I used had been donated by a close friend to the thrift store where I went shopping. Now I love my pot even more!

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Slightly Wordless Wednesday: An Afternoon Ramble

Every afternoon after work I pop into the garden to see what's new. Lots of rain and warm temps have worked their spring magic and the garden is beginning to bloom.

For this post I'm focusing on macro shots. I'll be back to long view shots with my next post.



Columbine


Chives and False Solomon's Seal as seen through the dog run fence


Variegated sedum and amsonia


 Amsonia 'Blue Ice'


Baptisia 'Prairie Blues'


'Night Owl' climbing rose


Wonderfully fragrant Cheddar pinks (dianthus)


Western Indian Physic (porteranthus stipulaus


Pink pincushion flower grow near the Golden Alexander's (zizia aptera) in the shade of a crepe myrtle.


 Variegated iris and tiny blue eyed grass





 Red and yellow geums


Mr. Toad near the mountain mint (pycnanthemum) and phlox


'Westerland' climbing rose



 'Chester Thornless' black berries, full of plump buds 

Sunday, April 29, 2012

Home

I spent yesterday afternoon helping a friend landscape the front yard of her new home. Out came mite infested azaleas and clumps of overgrown monkey grass. Hostas, ignorantly planted by the previous owner in full sun on a hot dry slope were moved to the moist shade in the back and replaced with a small herb garden and perennials to complement the existing shrubs. Her daughter eagerly dug through a bucket of worm compost searching for wigglers while we amended the soil and designed my friend's first garden. When the last bag of mulch was finally laid, we stood back, cold and covered in dirt, clapping and cheering.

Having moved seventeen times in thirty four years, I've never understood how deeply attached people become to their surroundings. While I loved many of the places I lived, they were always just pit stops and I focused my attachments on the people I met rather than the town or landscape. But if you were to ask me where I considered my true home to be, I would have drawn a blank. Home was where ever my husband, children, and dogs were, regardless of the state abbreviation at the end of our address. It wasn't a fixed location but rather a fluid course that was guaranteed to change.

I've lived in the same house in northern Virginia for nine years, longer than I've lived anywhere, and the idea of moving again brings nausea and the realization that I've become, for the first time, deeply attached to where I live. Home is no longer where ever I hang my hat but these walls and this garden. It's an odd feeling, as strange as it is comforting. I laid on the hammock in my back yard this afternoon doing nothing but dreaming and savored how good it was to be home.


'Johnson's Blue' cranesbill geraniums 


They grow in a moist spot near the dogwood.


Geraniums and Siberian iris


The dogwood garden in early evening. This bed is full of perennials and sweetspire 'Little Henry'.


Genie and the marguerites 


Thalictrum in bud


The flowers remind me of fireworks. 




They grow near the river birch and native Bowman's Root.


Chives have self seeded gently around my garden.


Peeking at a pot of seed grown curly parsley planted for the butterflies. 


It was too bright when I took this photo. Chives thrive in a well drained bed near white geraniums, 'Laura' phlox, and a Sceptre d'Isle rose, all grown in the shade of a massive Rose of Sharon.


'Miss Kim' lilac


These shrubs have only been in the garden a few years but bloom heavier every season. I'm hoping they'll be covered with blossoms by next spring. They grow between an American Cranberry bush (viburnum trilobum) and fragrant sweetbox (sarcocca).


I planted them near a window so I could enjoy their incredible fragrance even while inside. I think Lucy likes them, too.