I visited this garden in 2014 with a group of garden bloggers and didn't really absorb much of the back story of its creation. Visiting again this May, my knees aching after lengthy explorations along its sloping paths, I researched a bit after the visit to learn more about what I had seen. It's a lot to digest in one visit. I know from long experience that gardens don't just "happen," but the origin story of Old Germantown Gardens surprised even me. Jerry Grossnickle and Bruce Wakefield literally created it from scratch in 1988, following old deer trails for the paths, clearing out 2 acres of scrub forest with chainsaws from the 5-acre parcel, sorting out marshy areas with drains, heavy laborious work that took two years. The house itself wasn't built until 1990.
all the work of Jerry and Bruce
I think we can all agree that, while you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone vehemently anti-garden, there is a pervasive uneasiness about the work involved with making gardens. It's not everyone's idea of a good time. I recently came across the phrase of willingly being "in service to the garden" when Andrew Salter discussed the making of his garden on Garden Masterclass (here). He started the garden before his future home, a converted barn, had a kitchen or a bed. Andrew used that phrase over and over, of being in rapturous service to the garden. It's a simple, very effective description of the relationship between the gardener and the garden.
the garden slopes down from the house and includes a narrow stretch of lawn that also runs down the hillside
Bruce and Jerry have been in service to Old Germantown Gardens (named after the street) since 1988, when they left their Portland homes to find 5 acres upon which to let loose their combined bottomless energies and plant lust. The deer-fenced garden constitutes two acres; the remaining acreage is managed forest, also with trails maintained by the couple. Coincidentally, a few other Portland city gardens visited in 2014 have also been exchanged by their owners for more acres outside the city.
164 tons of gravel was brought in for paths that followed old deer trails. In the early days, water was lowered by rope in trash cans to irrigate new plantings
views reveal the careful managing and clarifying of shapes and sight lines, something most of us work with at ground level
Old Germantown Gardens is garden making at a physically heroic level, showing that a labor-intensive garden can indisputably be the personal definition of what constitutes a good time, and in fact can be at the very center of your ideal of a good life. Hand-built paths, rock walls, troubleshooting drainage solutions, hand-dug ponds, it's always been a chainsaw-driven DIY venture from the get-go. Categories of responsibility may be a little too neat, but from what I've read Jerry is consumed with engineering solutions and Bruce with the planting.
the cordylines in pots, steps, and ironwork gazebo were present in 2014
the large blue pot was also present in 2014
To enter the garden, you park on Old Germantown Gardens Road and descend down a long steep driveway to the deer-proof gates. Bruce was waiting at a sign-in table to greet visitors and answer questions, and I admit I trekked back to his table a few times for plant identifications. At one point I let him know that his namesake Lobelia tupa 'Bruce Wakefield,' a rare orange variant, grows at the Wonder Garden in Manzanita, and he told the story of its discovery in his garden by the guys at Xera then humbly shrugged off the honor with: "And I don't even like orange." That little story provides a clue into the synergy of plant nurseries with private gardens that is an important aspect of the ongoing dynamism of PNW garden culture.
marshy boggy areas were a natural choice for a large pond. I’m thinking the large leaves are Darmera peltata
variegated ligularia?
candelabra primulas leading down a “primrose path”
iris and thalictrum
Collections of certain genera like iris, primula, hellbebore fill the understory. Bruce talked of the difficulty now of bringing home seed from his extensive travels -- they had just returned from traveling through Southeast Asia and South America. The garden is famous for the Giant Himalayan Lilies, Cardiocrinum giganteum, that Bruce started from seed. I'll always associate these lilies with reading of Gertrude Jekyll directing workers with donkey carts full of manure to dump them into the massive holes she instructed be prepared for these lilies. Growing these lilies is a long game; they take seven years to bloom from seed and years more to achieve established colonies. But I do think donkey carts are a great idea for hillside paths!
mass plantings of hellebores with I’m guessing the bloomed-out skeletons of spring forget-me-nots
bearded iris and cardoon leaves
dry garden planting leading to the house and large terrace with views into the garden. Bruce mentions this when you sign in; don’t forget to check out the views from the terrace
Agave ovatifolia and Yucca rostrata planted dry, high and hot against the stone retaining wall
the view is the raison d’être of hillside planting
the terrace off the house has rills and water features that I spent little time exploring!
instead turning my attention to that view from the terrace
from the terrace looking down on Echium pininana
the cycad Encephalartos horridus in the small greenhouse off the terrace with russelia. There was also a potted Doryanthes palmeri, reminding me of the African Spear Lily growing temporarily unappreciated in my Los Angeles garden
Bismarckia nobilis in foreground — I wonder when it will be moved outside
potted plants off the greenhouse including Phylica pubescens in the blue pot
this mystery large-leaved plant was everywhere — cardiocrinum leaves?
sunny areas as well as shade — an access path through mass planting of Sweet Williams
bridging spring and summer with dianthus, campanula
Old Germantown Gardens is emblematic of the thriving garden culture of the PNW, supported by plant societies that enable touring private gardens, the specialist nurseries, all in response to the amazing climate and physical beauty of the region.
growing up in Los Angeles, I’ve developed a blindness to palms, which are coveted exotics in the PNW — glad I managed to inadvertently get a photo of a couple. Guessing from the height it’s the relatively hardy Trachycarpus fortunei
Here's more info on the garden from the Hardy Plant Society of Oregon, of which Bruce was once president. And FYI, Forest Park is one of the largest urban forests in the U.S.: "Tucked away on a wooded parcel near Forest Park, Bruce Wakefield & Jerry Grossnickle's Old Germantown Gardens is a nearly 2-acre hillside garden that is a wealth of garden diversity, including ponds, bog gardens, perennial beds and borders, woodland plantings, rock garden, dry hillside garden, and a greenhouse full of unusual tropical plants. Each garden habitat is stuffed full of plants – rare, unusual and common ones too. Parts of the garden are now almost 36 years old; the process of renovation and serious editing has begun (while still procuring new plants like there is no tomorrow)! Adjacent to the house is a French/Italian-style patio-terrace with small decorative pools, a fountain, rill, and waterfall, all contained within hand-chiseled stone walls. They have recently restored woodland trails in the back 3 acres of their forest area. Take a stroll through the native woods. You might even spot the local herd of elk! After exploring the extensive hillside trails (both in and outside the garden), visitors are welcome to refreshments on the terrace or upstairs deck while taking in a birds-eye view of Old Germantown Gardens. Best to park on the road and walk down the driveway."
Dianthus barbatus ‘Sooty’ with dark-leaved Angelica sylvestris ‘Vicar’s Mead’ in background
Small seedlings of the biennial Dianthus barbatus 'Sooty' were planted out last fall, and I'm happy to report it really lives up to its name. When the garden was new I used a lot of Dianthus barbatus 'Oeschberg,' a bright magenta, to cover all that bare ground, so I realized early on with the Oregon garden how invaluable this old-fashioned dianthus can be in late spring. And this biennial loves the growing conditions here, cool and wet, deep soil, so they bloom for months. There's still a few 'Oeschberg' dianthus in dwindling numbers, so they do seem to act as short-lived perennials here. Starting fresh from seed mid-summer is the best bet, but cuttings can be taken too. I might try cuttings with 'Sooty.'
These dianthus are well known as cut flowers too. For me the fragrance of this variety is very light/nonexistent.
My seeds came from Chiltern's in the UK. (A federal Permit to Import Plant Products is required, and I need to reapply. I think it lasts for five years.) I also started a white form that's just starting to bloom on the east side, which was newly dug so still lots of bare ground to cover. Weird that I chose the extreme ends of the spectrum, white and dark. I might use the white mostly as a cut flower. I'd hate to cut 'Sooty' from the garden. I saw masses of mixed color Sweet Williams recently at Old Germantown Gardens, including a peachy-pink strain 'Newport Pink,' all of which would be great for cutting. For the garden I prefer the dark single color strains like 'Oeschberg' and 'Sooty.'
Long-stemmed Dianthus barbatus ‘Sooty’ with Verbascum phlomoides
Small seedlings of Verbascum phlomoides were also planted last fall. It's an intriguing sight as it twists and elongates a flower bud. This newly planted area, maybe 4x4,' previously grew Persicaria polymorpha which stretches to 5x5 by summer. After the persicaria's removal and relocation, there was a lot of bare ground in fall for planting. Biennials are great for such temporary opportunities, because they're something to watch early in spring, whereas annuals won't be a presence until July at the earliest here at coast.
Centaurea macrocephala, the basket flower, is also at its most intriguing as it twirls and spins into flower
More twistiness from Centaurea macrocephala, the Bighead Knapweed. Digging Dog Nursery describes it well: "An overgrown, sun-struck relative of the Bachelor Button, this “big-headed” native of the Caucasus Mountains has so many good qualities you’ll soon be inviting it into your garden. A medium green, rowdy mass of oversized, wavy-edged lanceolate leaves attached to stout stems gives way to intriguing, rust-colored buds as big as a chicken’s egg. Scaled by papery bracts, the bud’s rotund profile opens to offer a large, bright yellow thistle, a cheerful mop of thread-like petals bursting with sunshine and color."
the brown bracts or “basket” striptease to reveal a yellow Sweet Sultan-type flower. Like a lot of herbaceous perennials, the drama is all in the shape-shifting transformations.
There's three close to the back fence, which may be two too many because these are large plants, at least 3x3.' The seedlings were discovered one autumn growing in the thatch of the "basket," the seedhead, and a few were pried free and potted up, now growing in my garden. I wonder if this is common or done by any other plant? The mother plant is still flourishing in a nearby commercial strip with no signs of other seedlings nearby.
Penstemon ‘Dark Towers’ with great form, small flowers. I prefer it to ‘Blackbeard,’ whose dark leaves are slightly larger in size, with more congested flowering. I prefer the elegant outline of ‘Dark Towers.’
Along with Dianthus barbatus 'Sooty,' I can't stop adding dark notes to the garden, like dark-leaved penstemon and angelica, Anthriscus 'Ravenswing.' (And a new Astilbe 'Chocolate Shogun.') The earlier they show leaves in spring, the better. I know too much variegation can get a little hectic, and I use it sparingly, but I haven't found a limit yet to the dark side of planting.
The dark leaves really emphasize penstemon’s opposite leaf arrangement, like a flock of dark birds taking flight
Billie striking a somber pose, back from a walk to town for Sunday scones. The beschorneria flower stalk has been cut down — I don’t need the seeds and prefer to let the plant rest. Near this end of the stock tank a phalanx of shrubs grew until this spring when they were taken out. Hebe ‘New Zealand Gold, Phlomis monocephala, Ozothamnus x cassinia, all glorious, all needing too much pruning for size here. The potted tetrapanax is the last of the beast taken out last year. No new sprouts in the garden this spring, knock wood. Small gardens need defending!
very young Prostanthera cuneata in foreground with a few white flowers. Small seedling of Eryngium ‘Big Blue’ was moved here this morning. I’ve had success moving eryngos when small to let the tap root settle in.
I really like this bit of planting, and a lot of that has to do with the contributions of Euphorbia ‘Copton Ash,’ the dark eucomis, and the tawny leaves of the Arctostaphylos pajaroensis hybrid. The flowers of Euphorbia ‘Miner’s Merlot,’ just seen on the left above, carry the same russet tones as the manzanita, as does Carex testacea. ‘Copton Ash’ reminds me of a miniature Euphorbia certatocarpa, seen recently and fawned over at Cistus. There are similar types like ‘Dean’s Hybrid’ and ‘Blue Haze’ which haven’t succeeded for me, and that might be on me. These euphorbias are not rubbery-leaved like characias but more willowy in habit. Billowy even. ‘Copton Ash’ doesn’t self-sow, thank goodness.
Eryngium ‘Big Blue’ with more russet from Chionochloa rubra (wispily in flower but seedlings unlikely)
As a side note, on the subject of reseeding, I’m getting some light reseeding from supposedly sterile Eryngium ‘Big Blue,’ a cross of alpinum and bourgatii, which is totally fine.
Euphorbia ‘Copton Ash’ to zone 7 with eucomis, Lagurus ovatus aka Bunny Tail Grass, Dianthus cafthusianorum
The circular silver drum was some kind of farm feeder, its bottom drilled and handle removed to make a home for an agave. (I’m no stranger to salvage, but in this case finding a large, cheap container was the primary consideration.) A local nursery was carrying gallons of Agave ovatifolia ‘Vanzie,’ a rare offering for the coast. I passed it up a few times but ultimately couldn’t let it go. Such treasures do not normally make their way to the coast. It seemed inevitable, meant to be. Returning for ‘Vanzie’ I noticed nearby Yucca ‘Silver Anniversary,’ a cross by Plant Delights of filamentosa and pallida. Intriguing! Not really wanting a potentially gigantic whale’s tongue agave in my small garden, I left with the yucca. What were these plants doing at my local hanging-basket-petunia-calibrachoa nursery? I posed that question to its owner, and she laughed, “These are my plants — I’m from Arizona.”
yet another euphorbia, E. griffithii behind a compact form of Brachyglottis greyi — supposedly compact!. Whether plants are sterile or compact, the only way to really know is growing them yourself.
When Sally Schmitt sold her ground-breaking, farm-to-table restaurant The French Laundry to Thomas Keller in 1994, she and her husband Don left Yountville and Napa County for an apple farm in Mendocino County.
Sally passed away in 2022, one of those people that used up every bit of energy, intelligence, enthusiasm, curiosity and inspiration that filled her body and soul for 90 years. Her restaurant The French Laundry has found world renown and 3 Michelin stars under its second owner Thomas Keller. The Apple Farm, on the other hand, that Sally helped her daughter operate in Philo, California, flies blissfully under the radar, a peaceful refuge for lovers of heirloom apples and rural simplicity.
Recently, friends and family stayed there over Memorial Day Weekend in the cottages available to rent surrounded by 80 varieties of apple trees, chickens and goats. I begged for some photos to share so we could have a look.
I’m daydreaming about a visit to coincide with the apple harvest.
the Sicilian Spurge Euphorbia ceratocarpa. If you’re going to ask the owner about a plant in his private garden, you better fess up to trespassing in his private garden
An HPSO open garden visit on Sunday took me about 20 minutes from Cistus Nursery on Sauvie Island, so I popped in to check on some plants I’ve been eyeing in their catalogue. After parking I wandered into the private area near the residence, where I saw this euphorbia, my personal holy grail, lining a path.
obviously tolerates winter rain well. Looks like it would reseed like crazy but apparently not. Cistus grows it from cuttings.
As far as entering the verboten part of the garden, at an exciting destination like Cistus my eyes see only plants and inviting paths, not signage. I truthfully did not mean to trespass and was mortified when I realized I had done so. Later in the visit I confessed my mistake to the owner Sean Hogan, and he was kindly reassuring and said they were getting deliveries so everything was open and not to worry. (He actually sent me back into the private area to check out Carex secta, a New Zealand sedge that hoists itself up on a “trunk” of old growth.).
One of the most beautiful days I’ve ever spent at Cistus, bright and warm, not too hot, with the eponymous shrub in bloom and pouring out that unique resinous scent from sun-warmed leaves
This euphorbia has been tantalizingly out of reach for decades. Nobody offers it for sale. Seeing it on the path, it was much larger than the spindly specimen I grew decades ago in Los Angeles. I nursed a couple cuttings but lost them and the mother plant ages ago. It is incredibly long blooming, willowy, full of that bright character that only euphorbias bring to a garden. And I just recently discovered it was in Citstus’ catalogue. No plants ready for retail sales yet (and still building size for mail order). And as Sean explained, Cistus is predominantly a mail order nursery, although the retail side is always full of fabulous plants and worth browsing. (Available retail was a chionochloa I’ve been looking for to billow out over the east “boardwalk,” Chionochloa conspicua.)
fremontodendron with possibly Phlomis x margaritae
small-flowered shrubby fremontodendron hybrid? Small leathery leaves like a fremontodendron, flowers the size of a sphaeralcea/globe mallow
whatever it is, I’ll take one. I think the flowers are too small for the hybrid ‘Ken Taylor’
possibly Abutilon vitifolium
I’ve got libertiias on the brain having just split up a huge clump. I can never tell the New Zeallander and Chilean libertias apart, grandiflora or chilensis
the Cistus style, like a walk through a carfefully curated chapparal
reach for the sky — the gradations of planting making up the Cistus skyline
from high to low, the crevice garden has serious ground-hugging gravitas
love how the crevice garden interacts with the rest of the garden, not just a feature apart from it
again the careful attention in building high to low, horizontal balancing the vertical, a space like this crackles with energy, open but protected, a structured wildness I find so soothing
nothing pulls the room together like an agave, maybe a salmiana hybrid
ha! another beschorneria in bloom
growing under a protective pittosporum
that euphorbia again — nothing else like it to light up a path
with ceanothus
So close to the prize! I’ve been assured that Euphorbia certatocarpa will be available for mail order very soon. The garden I also visited that day was Old Germantown Gardens, which I knew from a blogger’s Fling visit back in 2014. I didn’t write a single post on that visit. OGG is a lot to digest! I’ll be making a stab at it shortly. Something I’ve been struck by is a lot of garden writing I read naturally focuses on the ground level for small urban gardens, whereas the careful buildup with trees and shrubs in larger gardens remains to my eye mostly anonymous shapes. In LA I could half-ass “read” the skyline; in PNW gardens, not so much. It’s frustrating to know that every tree and shrub at Old Germantown Gardens was carefully considered for inclusion because of its unique and special qualities, but are nonetheless shapes without names to me. No wonder I never posted on it back in 2014! More soon, AGO
A few images from local nurseries and garden tours, courtesy of that incredible team, gardeners and the month of May.
field of amsonias at a local nursery
Crambe maritima and arctostaphylos on an HPSO garden tour
Diplarrena latifolia, Wonder Garden, Manzanita, OR
Every May this perfectly proportionate, quietly elegant iroid lures me in for close inspection. The Tasmanian Flag Iris, Diplarrena latifolia, exudes the charm and appeal that makes plants ubiquitous, yet there’s no local source for it. Xera lists it, but not currently available, and I have no doubt this specimen comes from their fine nursery, like many of the plants in the WG. Said to be easy from seed.
Wonder Garden, Manzanita OR
on an HPSO tour a podophyllum greets visitors at the front porch
On the HPSO tour, a fatshedera co-opts the handrail on the front steps, a clue to the gardener’s priorities
It’s not ideal using the phone camera, but it handles the light much better than I can manage on overcast rainy days like today, the 15th of May, aka Bloom Day.
pink-purple fountain in the distance is hesperis
This lively orange number is Geum ‘Queen of Orange.’ It’s been the earliest geum to bloom, and because the flowers are double it’s not as self-supporting as ‘Totally Tangerine.’ TT has the reputation for the longest period of bloom, and the Queen may not be able to compete in that regard but it is a citrusy blast very early in the season. Chartreuse foam is from Euphorbia ‘Miner’s Merlot,’ so good early in spring that I keeping adding more for a current total of three.
This corner near the potting shed was reworked in fall 2025. The “giants” that were invaluable in a young garden like Persicaria polymorpha have been moved to the east side. A shrub-like Euphorbia stygiana was removed — it’s generous with seedlings so no loss there. Fast-growing Metapanax delavayi was also removed. I might try it again on the more protected east side
Geum ‘Totally Tangerine’ is about two weeks later than the Queen
Penstemoon ‘Blackbeard’
Another really good plant early in spring is Penstemon ‘Dark Towers.’ Nothing eats it, the leaves come through winter flawlessly. It is just now beginning to bloom, but really it’s the early rich dark leaves that make it invaluable. ‘Blackbeard’ is another dark-leaved penstemon added last fall, and between the two varieties there are now five clumps.
Polemonium ‘Golden Feathers’
Polemoniums are another group of plants like geum that love these conditions and make a strong early appearance. Another plant worthy of multiples for spring here and I’m trying several varieties.
Cirsium rivulare ‘Trevor’s Blue Wonder’
Another plant I’ve spread into three clumps is this thistle that loves the rich deep moisture-retentive soil. Blooms heavy in spring and continues through summer.
foreground Selinum wallichianum, vine on overhang is Solanum laxum
Solanum laxum is rampant and needs a lot of thinning and cutting back. but it’s evergreen and never out of bloom
Euphorbia griffithii ‘Fireglow’ — love it but it’s a little scary now that it’s happy and spreading
Verbascum ‘Letitia’ from High Country Gardens is as charming as the catologue claims. New this spring. It is sterile and I wish it wasn’t. If it doesn’t make it through next winter, that’s the end of it. Vegetative propagation of such a young plant may not be feasible — we’ll see.
First year I’ve grown bunny grass Lagurus ovatus, an annual — what a charmer. Found local at Portland Nursery
Erodium ‘Fran’s Delight’
Allium karataviense
Thalictrum ‘Black Stockings’
Deschampsia ‘Tatra Gold’
Globularia repens ‘Nana’ in a second flush after a cutback — another early one
tall and grass-like Dianthus carthusianorum found at Blooming Junction — I’ve wanted to try this one for a long time
Cistus ‘Jenkyn Place’
Narrow beds against the east side of the house have acted as hodge-podge holding beds. Protected against the house, this Nicotiana mutabilis surprisingly made it through the mild winter and burst into early bloom. It’s a 3×3 arching mass of dainty trumpets and still growing in size.
Best cerinthe self-sowed on the more protected east side
Despite the unplanned approach, there are some good plants to build around on the east side like this Rubus lineatus. Previous owner had planted strawberries and rhubarb, and there really isn’t enough sun for that.
back in the main sunny garden Phlomis ‘La Sud’
Asphodeline lutea had five blooms but the snails took care of three
Bloom Day posts can be deceptive as far as the amount of flowers at one time. There’s a lot of nonflowering evergreens for ballast.
Billie in her element. Lowe right, Parahebe perfoliata tall and in bloom after a spring cutback of old stems
this broad dry path makes me want to tap dance down its length
The east side I’ve been referring to is where the “boardwalk” is under construction, temporarily halted due to rain and mud.
first burlap was laiid down and pinned as a weedcloth
Many years ago Carol at May Dreams Gardens devised the idea of Bloom Day to keep track of what’s blooming when all over the world. It is an invaluable record to keep. Have a great weekend! More soon, AGO
The beschorneria in bloom is a bit of an attention hog. Stepping outside, it’s the first thing that grabs my attention; the wonder of it, the unlikely circumstance of it forming a bloom over winter. I check over and over info on preferred growing conditions to understand how it is thriving in the cool rainy winters on the Oregon coast. Drought tolerant, full sun are the default instructions. But an entry by Plant Delights was very illuminating: “Beschorneria are one of the few “woody lilies” that prefers some shade. It will be happiest if it has less than a half day of sun, or even just very bright shade all day. Very drought tolerant, it also tolerates wet spells if provided with average drainage that would prevent water from puddling around the plant. “
April 2026 — it’s been a long-lasting show
growing in a free-draining stock tank with lots of added pumice. On the one day temps went into the 80s there was some drooping
Another issue that consumes my research is whether or not it is monocarpic. Reliable sources say it is not monocarpic, but still I worry…It’s bloomed once for me in Los Angeles in 2011, but the plant has always been susceptible to scale infestations in zone 10 and either withers away or is removed in exasperation.
In fact it hails from cool misty mountainous regions in northeast Mexico.
You never know what to expect at plant sales run by the horticulturally obsessed. At last Saturday’s Dirty Diggers plant sale in Portland, Anna of the blog Flutter & Hum was a friendly voice shouting my name when I first wandered in. I’m amazed people can do that after long absences. We chatted over her plants for sale, when she mentioned the riveting news that she had a couple gallons of beschorneria for sale too. As young plants, they are nice looking but give no hint of the pyrotechnics they are capable of producing in bloom. I sputtered and stammered and tried to describe the current spectacle in my garden, but just couldn’t do it. Something vague and unhelpful about parrots was all I could manage. Still worrying about monocarpism, I grabbed one of Anna’s beschornerias for sale as a backup. Thank you, Anna!
Kniphofia thomsonii in foreground, beschorneria in middle stock tank
How to describe the false agave in bloom. A cherry red stalk as strong and thick as a broom handle reaching up to 4 feet. From side branches that reach their greatest width about mid stalk, then taper up the stem to its zenith, hang red pendulous tubular flowers rimmed in chartreuse green. The flowers do not open into larger trumpets but remain narrow. (Other than the colors, the bloom has nothing to do with parrots.) Another member of the asparagaceae family, Polygonatum kingianum, is slightly reminiscent in bloom, as far as dangling tubular flowers.
sharing a stock tank with cistus
Thanks to all the Dirty Diggers for a great sale — Anna, Loree, Tamara, Patricia, Heather, Jerry and all the others who attended or manned tables to discuss in depth the wonderful world of their plants. Keep an eye out for their next sale in the fall — you never know who or what might turn up.
Agave americana ‘Mediopicta’ is protected in a greenhouse for winter. I love its new location this spring. With halimium and Erysimum ‘Apricot Twist’ in bloom
The Wonder Garden is a volunteer-driven, horticultural branch of the Hoffman Center for the Arts in Manzanita, Oregon. Since I’ve been volunteering the past several years, the Wonder Garden seems to evolve effortlessly from strength to strength. But having participated in an April work party that expanded one of the beds a few feet in circumference, I can attest to the effort required in growing a garden on a former parking lot. Pick axes are involved to break through the substrate to reach…beach sand. (I bet even Beth Chatto’s famous garden made on a former parking lot had soil beneath the rubble.) When not busting up parking lot, routine maintenance includes shoring up the berms, cutting back after winter, and applying mulches every spring to add some organic matter to an incredibly free-draining site that gets no rain all summer. All in addition to the usual division of perennials, weeding, and shuffling of plants as needed.
Erysimum ‘Apricot Twist’
Of all the WG plants I crush on, Erysimum ‘Apricot Twist’ rates high on the list. It is an electrifyingly acidic tonic in early spring. Last fall it looked like it had finally succumbed to that sparse, woody fate that awaits the short-lived erysimum clan. Except there is no known local source for ‘Apricot Twist,’ and none had been successfully propagated from the mother plant! Volunteers jumped to, and several cuttings were taken in fall and rooted over winter. I have one in my garden, and several others were farmed out for future sources of cuttings of this amazing plant. One other has been planted elsewhere in the WG. I can’t imagine the WG without it. Early and incredibly long blooming all summer. I noted an inferior strain of erysimum seeding around upon moving into my home garden in 2021 — they seem to love life on the rainy coast.
melianthus in bloom after a mild winter. With the hopseed bush Dodonaea viscosa
I took a spin around the garden late afternoon last Friday while waiting for a talk by Neil Bell at the Hoffman across the street. Colors come on strong in spring, on a framework that is predominantly evergreen from the range of choices available in this zone 8-9. Eucalyptus pauciflora, Acacia pravissima, cistus, manzanita, callistemon, azara, halimium, hebes, calluna, Ugni molinae, corokia, Fabiana imbricata, ceanothus, leptospermum, luma, Pittosporum ‘Tall & Tuff,’ even a thriving Leucadendron galpinii. Fabulously shrubby and textural with carefully considered seasonal jolts of gorgeous color from herbaceous plants too. I am such a fan of this garden.
generous ADA paths — hedge belongs to the business across the street
foreground bed is planted with succulents brought out from a local greenhouse in spring. This berm includes dry tolerant shrubs like manzanita and Hebe ‘Quicksilver. Mid distance is the bed whose perimeter was extended. The WG is a much sunnier, hotter site than my garden about 26 miles south in Tillamook
Kniphofia thomsonii with corokia, restio and cistus
Cistus ‘Bennett’s White’ with flowers the size and purity of a matillija poppy
Euphorbia stygiana and ceanothus, Hoffman CFA in the distance across the street
On the left is the restio Chondropetalum elephantium, one of a row of multiples that creates an eastern streetside boundary for the WG which sits on the corner of a busy intersection . One of the most asked about plants in the garden. No local source available.
The Wonder Garden’s wealth of interesting and diverse evergreens paired with seasonal dynamism makes it worth checking out all season. There’s some seriously good planting happening in the little beach town of Manzanita.
Thuja plicata, approx 154 feet tall, 49 feet wide, over 800 years old, known locally as the Big Cedar
Even as a part-time local, it took me a couple passes to find the tight entrance off 101 to the Cedar Wetlands Nature Preserve just outside Rockaway Beach. (I think there’s a small sign if you’re heading south on 101; northward, the reverse of the sign says Welcome to Rockaway Beach.) I wanted to catch the skunk cabbage in bloom again.
Turns out I was late for the bloom — late March/early April is when the bog lights up with the swamp lanterns. Still I made the mile-long walk down the boardwalk to see the old cedar again.
That narrow entrance off Highway 101 leads to a mighty sight, to this old cedar that has seen it all, from the first sailing ship to anchor in Tillamook Bay in 1788, to the beginning of commercial logging in the 1850s, to the last of the sea otters by 1900.
A champion tree, a witness tree to life on the Oregon coast for maybe the past thousand years or more. Middle-aged in 1700, it shuddered and swayed to the largest earthquake in North American history., a 9.0 that took out many of its compatriots and caused some parts of the coastline to drop several feet, leaving “ghost forests” that can still be seen at low tide.
from Wikimedia Commons
Total coincidence, but my visit coincided with Earth Day, April 22, so some context is appropriate in the spirit of the occasion. This rare patch of cedar bog is itself part of the rarity that is the Pacific temperate rainforest, the largest temperate rainforest in the world. Temperate rainforests comprise a meager 3% of the earth’s surface. They excel as carbon sinks due to slow decomposition rates.
boardwalk makes it ADA accessible
The main bloom of the skunk cabbage may have been over, but their massive leaves are a sight in their own right. The largest leaves of any native plant in the PNW.
a few Lysichiton americanus were throwing blooms but nothing like the carpet of gold I had seen a previous March
we’ve been playing around with the idea of a “boardwalk” for the muddy/grassy east side of the house, and I think we’re committed. Gravel, pavers, bark always first come to mind for paths, but I’m liking more and more a simple raised boardwalk without digging out the turf underneath. Drawbacks are a bit of slipperiness during the rainy season.
respect
This 50-acre old growth cedar bog was donated by a lumber company. Managed by the Nature Conservancy, it’s now been deeded to the City of Rockaway Beach. It is a hauntingly ancient place, a primordial experience sandwiched between the small towns of this stretch of the Oregon coast. Actually, I kind of like that it’s hard to find.
