Once upon a time there were three gardens. The first garden held whispered secrets of family ties. The second soared towards the sun. And the third garden could wisp an unsuspecting guest around the world in 15 minutes. All three gardens were lush with beauty and history; their intrigue rivaled only by the character of the gardeners who tended them.
In Edina these “once upon a time” gardens are once upon this time. Their caretakers are very real indeed—full of fascinating stories and a treasure of experience buried in years of cultivating, dividing and solving backyard challenges. The tales oft’ told by these tillers of soil, are well worth the telling.
Family Tapestry In Green
In a small, unassuming suburban lot, Linda White has created an oasis of family tradition. The front yard is graced with flowering black chokeberries, Virginia bluebells and a dwarf lilac tree reminiscent of an English cottage garden. Clusters of hydrangea along a stone path and white Adirondack chairs with multi-colored cushions provide ample invitation to relax and watch busy chickadees and waxwings collect berries or score seeds from any one of a collection of bird feeders before swooping into a brightly embellished birdhouse.
Though rich with European charm, an American flag stands watch as hint that this garden holds a surprise at every turn. While the front yard gracefully draws you in, the back yard delivers the knock-out punch.
When White and her husband John moved into the rambler in 1976 they did not realize they had acquired “waterfront property” until the first rain left standing puddles out back. But, the engagement of a landscape designer in 1994 and a buried drainage system transformed their clay-laden lot into a place where Linda’s gardening heritage could bloom.
Beginning with her grandma’s old-fashioned peonies, she has placed “family” throughout the yard. Lilies from a brother, phlox passed down from her mother’s garden, she stands at the center of five generations of gardeners and continues to inspire her young granddaughters to carry on the tradition. “Both grandkids love to start things from seed,” she adds proudly.
Fond memories led her to replicate the arbor from her grandparent’s garden. It supports climbing Wisteria vines bursting with buds and leads to one of the many cozy areas throughout the space, where a quiet privacy prevails and you can spy a dusky purple smoke bush hover over plants that are repeated throughout the garden like Jacob’s ladder, ligularia, Queen Anne’s lace, wild ginger, Solomon’s seal, white Nancy and a small herb garden.
White is careful to use only native plants. “I want to make it as easy for myself as possible,” she explains. The garden is well established and requires no new plantings. Hanging baskets and pots of annuals add variation from year to year. Garden ornaments create whimsical detail and a continuous stream of jubilant birds keep the energy flowing between small ponds, a fountain and beds anchored with rocks and an occasional piece of driftwood.
With so many different areas to stop along the meandering flagstone paths, you might pass an afternoon and never see what lies around every bend. You may miss the cool woodland corner or the heirloom roses interspersed. What you cannot possibly miss is the overwhelming sea of green texture punctuated by flamboyant color and the rich memories of a woman who finds herself woven into the ongoing story of a family’s deep passion for growing things.
All the Garden’s a Stage
Richard and Molly Parry rarely see their neighbors. It's not for lack of friendliness that they miss the comings and goings, it's because the view out most of their windows is entirely filled with vegetation.
After moving to the house in 1968, Richard started his work in the back yard—which extends up to Grove Street. “It's a 40-foot rise, so I was forced to do something or have an eventual landslide,” he says. He began at the bottom with two tiers of railroad ties. “Six ties fit in my station wagon at a time. I made lots of trips,” he recalls.
Tiers were added in following years and planted with shade-loving perennials. The intention was low maintenance, however, the elms in the landscape died out, leaving sun where there was once only shade. Plants were moved. The try-it–and–see-what-works Parry attitude still prevails.
Although he claims to be a lazy gardener Richard admits to “putzing” a couple of hours every day, along with Molly, who he describes as “constantly weeding.” His idle ways have led him to become a Hennepin County master gardener—no small feat for a self-professed lazy guy.
With a plant encyclopedia in hand, Richard likes to know the Latin and common names of the things he grows. He nurtures lamium (deadnettle), persicaria (red dragon), and lysimachia (creeping Jenny) with its star shaped yellow flowers and creeping stems that drape down to break the strong horizontal lines of the landscape timbers.
While his master gardening training made him familiar with plant varieties, Richard claims that the most invaluable thing he learned was healthy plant maintenance. And, like any inquisitive expert, if he does not possess the answer to a query from another gardener, he makes short work of his own investigation.
Although the plant material in this healthy garden comes from garden tours, the arboretum, or Richard’s mother’s garden in Akron, Ohio, he claims that family friend and fellow gardener Linda White “conned him into doing the entire thing in the first place.” She continues to share plants and now looks to Parry for expertise on plant names.
After 40 years, the Parry yard is still a work in progress. Richard waves a hand in the direction of a rain garden, announcing that it “needs a hand grenade,” and points out an obedient plant “which is not obedient.” Arranged in defined beds packed with bleeding heart, lady’s mantle, astilbe and coral bells, there is a definite slant towards trying whatever seems interesting.
A birdbath, surrounded by petunias, marigolds and snapdragon, brings detailed variation to the splash of color that comes from the 800-plus impatiens planted each year. “My dear wife says what will be where. It’s a very formal plan. We have rules,” says Richard. Red and white impatiens are exclusive to the front yard, next to the collection of daffodils. Only orange and white impatiens are allowed around the back stoop.
Non-stop hues reach up the massive hillside with iris nestled amidst 700 to 800 lilies and hostas. Standing on the back porch, one stands on the stage of a raked auditorium with viewers arrayed in their summer finest. However, it is the audience that provides the entertainment for these two color-loving gardeners.
Eco-conscious Order
At the corner of Grove Street and Tracy Avenue stands a fence with a view. If you position yourself at one of the screen panels you can catch a glimpse of restraint, and a splash of global influence.
Liz Klaver is all about impact. She's created her own curvilinear aesthetic when it comes to developing this corner lot. “I want a plant that is controlled, tight and geometric,” she says, by way of describing her gardening sensibilities.
Klaver has a negligible desire for blossoms. In her garden, color and texture is delivered ten-fold via variegated leaves, the pinks of coleus and the velvety pussywillow bud. Even iris appears for its blue-gray spikes of foliage rather than its bearded blooms.
Growing over 75 varieties of hosta (including an heirloom variety from her great grandmother) for the landscaping business of a friend, Klaver goes so far as to remove their flowers so as not to detract from the smooth, fan-like blades.
The one green thing she does attempt to get rid of is grass. Her husband Kenneth Frank is delighted each time a swath is surrendered to a new bed. “The less mowing the better,” he says.
What Klaver does in her own yard has an impact on the rest of the world too. “I use sustainable methods and practices—not to be confused with organic, though I use many organic approaches,” she says. Over the years her concern has grown about soil and land use, plant production, global warming and climate change.
Design influences of the world have lodged here too. The garden is peppered with eastern items—a Japanese lantern, a South Korean statue, a delicately arched Asian bridge that beckons the eye to connect the beds on each side. A chimnea sits under a large arbor creating images of a Mexican villa replete with a succulent, potted, agave plant. Perfectly pruned boxwood hedges curve round a feature tree, not unlike the formal gardens of Europe.
Trees often serve as focal points amongst Klaver's plant beds. They include a Chinese fringe tree, a nine bark tree and French pussywillow. Klaver prefers shade gardening, so tree canopies are perfect. “Trees are cheap. And, they are a contribution in efforts toward personal carbon offset,” remarks Klaver.
While everything in this garden flows together in a zen-like experience, Klaver has had her share of catastrophe; like the time she was swept up in the gardens of Versailles and tried to replicate the design with Minnesota plantings. “A total three-year bust,” she assures.
There was also the neatly trimmed border of mature dogwoods that collapsed under a heavy snowfall, not to mention the standard-form pussywillow border, blown over in a heavy storm, like a row of dominoes.
Despite a few stumblings, Klaver’s more than 35 years of gardening has produced a unique vision—one that does include a bloom or two. The privacy fence along the street is lined with a row of apple, pear and plum trees, providing an undeniable floral display each year. And, she admits, “I am crazy about peonies.”
