Each Little World

Shopping in Spring Green

Last Saturday we went to the 18th Annual Fall Art Tour that snakes through the open studios of artists in Southwestern Wisconsin. It was a gorgeous day; I'm sure exactly what the organizers hope for each year. In addition to looking at (and buying) art, we made a point of stopping at the new independent bookseller in Spring Green: Arcadia Books. It's located on the ground floor of a beautifully restored 1872 post office building. And it has everything you want in a good bookstore: a wide array of subjects and titles, pleasant staff, framed New Yorker posters about books and reading, high ceilings and uneven old wood floors, food, coffee, and wine and beer. I could practically live there! 

While the food is geared to carryout customers, there were two soups and fabulous mini quiches (Caprese and Lorraine the day we were there). You can also pick an entree from the cooler, they heat it up for you and everything is served warm and toasty. I had curried carrot soup with the Caprese quiche and Mark had chicken fried rice. Everything was delicious. Also on the menu are sandwiches, wraps, salads, and desserts. Then we grabbed lattes to drink while we browsed.

I found the new Jane Hirshfield poetry book, "Come, Thief," which I had read about in the New York Times but did not have much hope of finding in Madison. Mark got a book on philosophy and another on science. As someone with lots of books on cooking, gardening and interior design I thought the selections in those categories were excellen; they included titles both familiar and new. Even though the garden and design sections were not large, they should appeal to a varied audience.  

Former Cap Times reporter Joe Schoenmann will be reading from his new book, "Vegas Rag Doll" — a true life account of the spouse of a Vegas hitman — at 7 p.m. this Friday, Oct. 21. Too bad I can't make it as I could trade stories about the wife of a NJ mobster that I once knew.

The store is named for owner James Bohnen’s favorite play, “Arcadia,” by Tom Stoppard, and I noticed a copy prominently on display. Bohnen recently stepped down as founding artistic director of Chicago's Remy Bumppo Theatre Company. This past summer, he directed Shakespeare's "The Tempest" for nearby American Players Theatre. You can find out more about Arcadia Books, including ordering books, at their aptly named web site: read in utopia. 

We ran into a friend on the Art Tour who told us about Convivio, otherwise we might have missed it — even though it is visible from Arcadia Books. While they had some lovely art for the Tour weekend, it was their wonderful array of kitchen and tabletop items that make it worth driving from Madison to visit this shop. Dishes, linens, glassware, baskets, jewelry, wines, and elegant comestibles fill the space. As they note on their web site: "From rowdy conversation with friends to relaxed family interludes, the best times in life happen around your table." You know it's true; that's the allure of this kind of business!

Madison has lost a host of similar stores in the last few years — Fleurishes, Spirals, Gatherings to name a few favorites. Convivio has that same sense of personal style and attitude that characterizes the best shops. I have lots of reasons to return: French and Scandinavian linens, colorful pressed glassware, giftwrap with large scale patterns, stunning woven ribbon by the yard. Add two terrific newer destinations to stalwarts like the Jura Silverman Gallery, Nina's Department and Variety Store, nearby Global View and Taliesin, and it's clear that a quick return to Spring Green is a must! 

Arcadia Books: 102 E. Jefferson St. 608-588-7638

Convivio: 122 N. Lexington St. 608-588-2351

Bennington: Summer memories with recipe

Forty years ago this summer, my friend Monte and I packed up a home-made tent/trailer and drove 7,000 miles (or was it 10,000?) on a massive cross-country trip. We were roommates as well as art teachers, so we left when school recessed for the summer and returned Labor Day weekend. It was a great trip, resulting in lots of adventures which I remember via the first journal I ever kept.

All of this came back to me during my recent visit to Atomic Interiors where I purchased the Dansk BLT plates. Among the wonderful mid-century treasures the store offers was a set of four Bennington Pottery plates and bowls. Potter's Yard in Bennington was one of our stops in July, 1971, and we fell in love with their delightful dishes. I fell prey to temptation and memory at Atomic again and bought the eight pieces of Morning Glory Blue spatterware. Again, at $9 for the dinner plates and $7 for the bowls, Atomic's prices can't be beat. The current prices on-line at Bennington are $24 for the plate and $26 for the rimmed soup/pasta bowl. The pieces I bought at Atomic were made in 1961/62 when I was a freshman in high school; the company's been making stoneware dishes since 1948.

Along with notes and bits and pieces glued into that first journal was the this recipe for salad dressing (below) that we enjoyed at Potter's Yard. 

BENNINGTON DRESSING

• 1 tsp. Kosher salt
• 1 tsp. freshly cracker white pepper
  
• 1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepepr
• 1/4 tsp. granulated sugar
• 1/2 tsp. dry mustard
• 1 tsp. Dijon mustard
• 1 tsp. lemon juice
  
• 2 tsp. finely chopped fresh garlic cloves
• 5 Tblspn. good tarragon vinegar
• 2 Tblspn. olive oil
• 10 Tblspn. vegetable oil
• 1 raw egg
• 1/2 cup light cream

Put all the ingredients in a jar and shake well to combine. Chill before serving. 

Alas, I did not make any notes as to what kind of salad this might have dressed. 

An Armistice Day garden

Whenever we visit my sister who has a house on Chatauqua Lake in central New York State, Mark and I always try to spend an afternoon wandering the grounds of the historic Chautauqua Institution.  Today Chautauqua is a center for the arts, education, religion and recreation. They offer classes, lectures, reading groups, performances — all in a beautiful setting, filled with the historic "cottages" and Institute buildings from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. In those days "chautauqua" was the word used to describe summer learning programs; everyone took part in one — in their own town or went off to the nearest traveling Chautauqua.

The last time we explored the grounds of the original Chautauqua Institution, we took a different route and discovered this little WWI memorial. We stopped to remember this soldier — but the gardener (and the historian) in me questions whether the ivy growing around this monument could really be from the Argonne Forest.

After all, the Meuse-Argonne was the scene of the final Allied offensive — and the greatest American battle — towards the very end of the war and photos indicate a devastated landscape. Though perhaps by the time this plaque was dedicated in 1921, ivy was again greening the area and this is indeed a remnant from that battlefield-turned-cemetery. Most of the Americans buried in the 130 acre cemetery were killed in the battle that took place on its site. 

The cemetery at the Argonne Forest, France, in 1919 (above) and today (below).

Cleveland faces

Every time we drive out East to visit my family, Mark and I tell ourselves we will stop in Cleveland to visit the museum. Mark lived in that city in the 1970s and has very fond memories of the Cleveland Museum of Art. This time we finally did it — we pulled off of Interstate 90 onto a lovely tree-lined parkway which took us to the museum in about ten minutes. 

The parkway is Rockefeller Park, a 250-acre meandering drive that flows between steep slopes and open green spaces; John D. Rockefeller actually donated the parkland to the city in celebration of its centennial. This lovely drive spans the two miles between University Circle, where Clevleland's many museums are located, to the South and Lake Erie to the North. Dedicated to the peaceful cooperation of all the groups who settled Cleveland, it is hard to imagine an easier route from the highway to the gallery or one that could be more beautiful. 

On this sunny summer day the museum (admittance is always FREE) was filled with people from all those diverse races, cultures and ethnicities viewing the art — and looking back at the visitors from the walls. A few of our favorite faces are below:

Priest-King, Hittite, about 1600 BC. Basalt with bone eyes, N. Syria.

Celtic head, about 100-300 AD. Sandstone with original red paint, northern England. 

Portrait bust of a girl, 150 AD. Roman, marble.

Female face mask, early to mid-1900s. Wood, Baule people (Africa).

"Nathaniel Hurd" by John Singleton Copley, 1765. A silver teapot made by Hurd, a Colonial era silversmith, was displayed in a case just to the right of his portrait.

"Nathaniel Olds" by Jeptha Homer Wade, 1837. Olds is wearing shades to protect his eyes from the bright light of whale oil lamps.

Bust of a lady by Carpeaux, 1872. French, marble.

"Age of Bronze" by Rodin, 1875-76. French, bronze; part of a collection of Rodin sculptures housed in a glass box of a gallery.

"Homer" by Joyce Pensato, 2007. Enamel on linen.

Even with part of the museum still under construction — and some art still not on view — we spent five fabulous hours. I can't stress enough what an amazing collection the museum has — a room full of Picassos, another of Rodins, a huge Monet waterlily, a killer Kline, great Rousseaus and Gainsboroughs, and on and on. The building itself is beautiful — both old and new parts — but I especially noticed gallery signage, safe but elegant sloping walkways, fun and funky doors in the behind-the-scenes areas. 

The quality of every aspect of the Cleveland Museum of Art — including the art — is as good as any you'll find and well worth a visit. It is part of the heritage of the nation's older cities: the ones whose troubles, rather than their triumphs, are what usually make the news. But it is the 19th century riches — financial and industrial — of so-called "rust belt" cities like Buffalo, Cleveland, Pittsburgh and St. Louis, that make them the cultural treasures they continue to be. You can read more about the Cleveland Museum of Art here and about all the things happening in the nation's rust belt cities on my niece's blog, Rust Wire, here. 

One aspect of the original 1916 building of the Cleveland Museum of Art. Read about the museum's 1916 cast of Rodin's "The Thinker" here. 

To round out the day, we drove a short distance to Cleveland's Little Italy. We parked in front of Holy Rosary Catholic Church, perfect for two lapsed types like us. Alas we had missed the famous street festival to celebrate the BVM's Assumption, but saw photos and pictures of the event in assorted shop windows as we walked up the street to Guarino's. In business since 1918, Guarino's Restaurant is stuck in a 1950s time-warp. There were bowls of matchbooks at the ready should anyone still need to light up, vases of plastic flowers on the table, and a framed 1934 First Communion certificate from a member of the Guarino family right inside the front door. But our favorite touch was this face on the wall who stared at us all through our hearty dinner. Mama mia! 

Northwind Perennial Farm rocks!

After our shopping spree at Klehm's Song Sparrow, we took advantage of our proximity to Northwind Perennial Farm to head down the highway to Burlington, Wis., to visit this highly-regarded nursery, located in and around a 19th century dairy barn. The three business partners have a combined 80 years of horticultural experience, which is clearly evident as you walk through Northwind's stunning display gardens. 

I've been fortunate to hear one of the owners — Roy Diblik — speak a number of times in Madison, and he knows his plants. For those of you who've visited Lurie Gardens in Chicago's Millenium Park and been impressed with that landscape, you need to know that Roy grew and installed 15,000 plants for the project. That alone is enough to give you a sense of his expertise and Northwind's reputation. 

We took tons of photos at Northwind and this group are about the rock work throughout the gardens. Lots of practical ideas here along with a healthy dose of inspiration!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mark — who's done his share of building stone walls and sculpture in our garden — pointed out that creating a wall with the irregular round shapes of Wisconsin field stone is particularly difficult. Thus making this serpentine wall at Northwind quite an achievement.

A special celebration

From the Social Calendar, Mon. Aug. 28, 1922, Buffalo Morning Express newspaper:

"Mr. and Mrs. Edward Truxes and Miss Florence and Raymond Truxes are motoring to New York, where they will be the guests of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Hardy on Long Island for ten days."

I found this travel tidbit about my mother, her brother and their parents while searching old Buffalo, NY, newspapers on-line. I typed in my grandfather's name and my great-grandfather's name and found a lot of fascinating information. Because the former worked in retail and the later was a police detective, their names appeared in print in the newspaper in the early years of the 20th century, at a time when most folks did not rate a mention. 

In the years after WWI, social calendars were a big part of newspapers and carried stories about the comings and goings of the middle class beyond the standard mention of an engagement or wedding. You can imagine what a wonderful surprise it was to find a few of these little mentions of my family in old newspapers. 

But the icing on the cake is the photo of my mother (age 3, left), her beloved older brother (nicknamed "Dewey," age 12), and their parents. On the back of the photo, it says "Off to New York" and gives the children's ages. My mother was born in 1919 and her brother in 1910, which means this is a photo of them about to depart on the very trip described in the paper!

Rather than a motor trip, I flew out East yesterday, to spend today with my Uncle Dewey's children, celebrating the 100th anniversary of his birth — April 6, 1910 — on this, the 91st anniversary of my mother's birth. (Mark is staying behind to hold down the fort and work on the garden — and so as to not have to listen to endless childhood family stories!).

Garden Bloggers Buffalo fling: Food

If you're going to the Garden Bloggers' meet-up in Buffalo in July — officially known as Buffa10 — you're probably already wondering about the food. We had some great meals at the last Spring Fling in Chicago, including the city's famous deep-dish pizza. But I think Buffalo will be able to meet the dining challenge.

You are likely already familiar with one of the area's signature dishes, Buffalo wings: Chicken wings spiced up with cayenne pepper and served with celery and blue cheese dressing. While I've enjoyed that particular treat, it was created long after I'd left town. It isn't actually a regional specialty, but rather a smart marketing ploy as far as I'm concerned.

When I hit Buffalo in July, there are two culinary pilgrimages I plan to make: one to Parkside Candy and the other to Schwabl's.

Parkside Candy (pictured below) is home to my dad's favorite sweet treat, sponge candy. He loved this airy confection tasting of butter and molasses (though it contains neither), especially the version dipped in dark chocolate. I'm sure this is where my affair with dark chocolate began. He had such a sweet tooth for this candy, that my mom actually learned how to make her own. It is hard to describe because it is melt-in-the-mouth fragile and yet makes a definite squeeky sound if you chew it. Suffice it say that it is still a favorite in our family.

But before our childish palates were sophisticated enough for sponge candy, my dad would buy an assortment of Parkside's suckers (lollipops) for my sisters and me to share. These were not round balls, but discs about a quarter of an inch thick and came in flavors ranging from toasted cocoanut to peppermint. They were actually just as popular with grown-ups as with us kids, and you had to grab your favorite flavor fast or lose out.  

PHOTO: BUFFALO FOOD AND OTHER DELIGHTS   

Schwabl's Beef on Weck sandwich is the meal that says "home" to me, and I can't imagine coming to the city without enjoying one. It's a roast beef sandwich raised to an art by the skill of the cook who roasts the beef, the person who slices the beef and the roll on which it's served: kummelweck. "Weck" or "wick" — the locals say it both ways — is a German hard roll with big chunks of salt and caraway seeds on top. The freshness of the roll is critical so beef on weck has stayed a local favorite, as weck doesn't travel well and weck from a freezer case is downright unthinkable.

Don't take my word that this a great sandwich. Jane and Michael Stern praised it in their column in Gourmet magazine; more recently Michael declared that beef on weck at Schwabl's was "worth driving anyplace from" on the Roadfood blog. Then of course there's the incredible warm German potato salad, the coleslaw without mayo, the hot ham sandwich, the birch beer ...

When I used to fly home from Wisconsin to visit my parents, my dad and I would stop at Schwabl's on the drive from the airport for some shared dad and daughter time. Beef on weck at Schwabl's was also one of the last meals my husband and I had with my parents before my dad's Alzheimers put a stop to such outings. It was the meal my sisters and I planned to partake of after our mothers' memorial service, but a freak October snowstorm put paid to that plan. So this trip will most definitely find me at Schwabl's, filling myself with food and family memories.

Though this image of a beef on weck sandwich is from Charlie the Butcher, not Schwabl's, it gives you a sense of what it's all about.

Iowa gardens: Variations on a theme

A few years ago a book was published by Timber Press — "Design in the Plant Collector's Garden: From Chaos to Beauty" — that was geared to helping folks turn mere collections of plants into gardens. The danger of being a connoisseur of, say, garden conifers, is that it's very easy to have lots of land, lots of wonderful plants and still wind up without a garden.

A WHPS "tourist" takes notes in Gary Whittenbaugh's garden.

To be honest, that was my fear about our recent trip to Iowa with the Wisconsin Hardy Plant Society. I envisioned seeing amazing plants — which I did — but less than inspirational gardens, which was far from the case. Regardless of the size, shape or location of each garden, the owners had created personal spaces that expressed their passion in individual ways.

A fastigiate maple tree in Randy Dykstra's front yard soars above the house.

If there was one thing that was consistent from garden to garden, it was the use of contrast. The contrast of turf grass against planted areas, of deciduous trees and shrubs against evergreens. Even the conifers themselves offered contrasts of color, texture, form and size.

Randy Dykstra's garden included personal artwork like this buried Mustang.

Though conifers were the specialty of these gardens, none of the gardeners limited themselves only to that genre, so there were alpines, herbs, perennials, and ornamental grasses as well. And everywhere there were trough gardens whose size, shape and plantings can only be termed inspirational. These gardens included lots of personal details: the Iowa mascot, buried cars, miniature buildings, full size sheds, gates, gazebos, shared and secret spaces. 

We look for the "Big Idea" in the Rathje garden.

When visiting gardens, Mark and I tend to look for the "Big Idea": the concept that defines a garden. Here's our picks for the big ideas we found in the six private gardens we visited.

Gary Whittenbaugh's paths (above, with detail below) meander around the house but show you specifically where to walk.

SHE SAID: Gary Whittenbaugh's Fran Mara Garden (Oelwein, Iowa) proved that lack of space needn't mean lack of diversity or lack of plants. Every inch was crammed full and not just with miniatures. But a system of paths and edging kept everything looking crisp as well as giving order and direction to the garden.

Gary Whittenbaugh has extended his garden into his neighbor's so both enjoy borrowed scenery.

HE SAID: What I found especially interesting about Gary's garden were the ways he projected his garden into the neighboring spaces, both literally and by suggestion. By breaking up the actual property line he was able to avoid much of the claustrophobia that one experiences in many small heavily cultivated urban gardens.

We saw lots of great garden rocks on the trip, including this one at Diane Dave's.

Diane Dave (Independence, Iowa) offered the fascinating array of conifers found in all the gardens we visited on this trip. And she had a great gazebo (from a kit). But what I noticed in particular were the hard materials used to create paths and steps in this multi-level garden. Diane also had the best rock of the trip, this patinated piece plunked in the front garden.

Wide open spaces lead back to Diane Dave's densely planted garden.

HE SAID: I loved the contrast between the open, minimal design of the approach to the house and the way the "garden" wrapped around the house itself. Aside from a small bed at the road, which suggests what lies in wait at the end of the walk, Diane resisted the temptation to add "interest" to the large space between the road and the house. Linda and I even questioned the wisdom of that small bed, figuring let it all be a surprise.

Dennis Hermsen's garden on the Iowa prairie — where the wind comes right behind the rain. 

Perhaps it's not surprising that Dennis Hermsen's garden (Farley, Iowa) contained some of the standout conifer combinations and contrasts of the trip. After all, he is a propagator with a big nursery on site (yes, I succumbed and bought a Picea orientalis 'Barnes'). The Hermsen garden also offered us the ability to see mature specimens as well as how these plants stand up to the forces of nature — especially wind — on the open prairie.

 

Purple barberries function as sentinels in a bed of yellow "Mother Lode" juniper backed by a weeping white pine.

HE SAID: Demonstration gardens at a nursery are didactic by definition, but Dennis clearly made an effort to make each of his island beds a unique composition. That being said, I still preferred the more complex plantings near the house. I am far from being a connoisseur  of garden conifers, but from the reactions of others on the trip I gathered that his is a very important private collection. 

The size and shape of the grass lawn is as well-defined and well-designed as any other area in the Rathje's garden.

Jeff and Lora Rathje's garden (Long Grove, Iowa) was all about layers, from the tree canopy to people-sized structures to ground covers.  All of it tied together with turf grass. But not just grass; this was a lawn nicely designed into the garden to make it fit in with its suburban neighbors. This was clearly a plantsman's garden (Jeff is also a nurseryman) but it was about restraint and editing as well.

Dianthus "jumps" one of the many walkways in the Rathje garden.

HE SAID: I probably felt most "at home" in this garden because of the wonderful way they used paths to define the garden space. I can imagine Jeff and Lora, much like Linda and I, taking their daily stroll through all the open and hidden regions of the garden — a beautiful private universe.

The Dykstra garden has a strong personality that came from the artwork as well as plants.

Randy Dykstra's garden — along with his on-site Heartland Nursery (Fulton, Iowa) — featured a personal palette of plants as well as garden sculptures created by Dykstra. Like Whittenbaugh's garden, the property was packed but there were open areas of breathing space as well.

Every aspect of Randy Dykstra's garden was well-thought out and well-executed.

HE SAID: Randy has some spectacular plants, but it was his use of found and made objects that pleased my aesthetic sense the most. From the Mustang hood to the Japanese lantern on a stone pillar, he was able to add objects that were quirky without being overly intrusive. I thought this subtle water source was a particularly nice example of his use of natural materials.

The view from Dave Horst's front yard.

Dave Horst's garden was all about scale, how to incorporate everything from a miniature rock garden plant to mature conifers in a space with some very disconcerting elements. How do you compete with the Mississippi River and ominous black railroad tank cars?

Looking back toward Dave Horst's house.

HE SAID: I thought that Dave's site was clearly the most challenging of those we visited on our tour: a steeply sloped property of open turf backed by a straight line of dense trees, all facing a jarring mixture of big nature and big industry. His is probably the youngest garden we saw, but it already shows great promise. I was especially struck by the way Dave has been able to tie new elements to the existing ones. It would be easy, I think, to have elements appear to "float" in this fascinating space.

Dave Horst figured out how to have a rock garden full of miniature plants in a very large landscape (above and below).

Antigo: A soil to know

Changing our garden paths from bark mulch to gravel provided an unexpected bonus: a big pile of dirt ready to be used in any number of garden projects. Digging into it during the last week has had me thinking about soil in general. 

Not long after I moved to Wisconsin, I can still remember my first sight of the farm fields lining the road to Black Earth. Their appearance lived up to the town's name; they were a vast blanket of dark, rich dirt that looked good enough to eat. I was sure a seed tossed from the moving car window would immediately take root and flourish in such black earth. But that lovely black earth is only one of the many soils found in the state. 

WWW.STATETRUNKTOUR.COM

Wisconsin actually has a state soil: Antigo Silt Loam received its official designation in 1983. And it has its own song by the late professor and soil scientist Francis Hole, as well. Since my husband's parents came from the Antigo area, I can report that I've seen this famous dirt in person. It's home to the state's potato crop which makes the fields look like a garden when the spuds are blossoming. My husband is the proud owner of an Antigo Silt Loam t-shirt which is how I first leaned about all this. And I've had my picture taken with the historical marker. 

NRCS/USDA

Third and fourth grade students from Antigo Elementary School sing the Antigo Silt Loam Song.

In 1899 the National Cooperative Soil Survey began and Wisconsin initiated its own survey efforts shortly after. But it wasn't until 2006 that Wisconsin finally completed its state-wide survey under the auspices of the USDA Natural Resources Conservation Service. It was a massive cooperative effort that included work by folks at every level of government, the university, and five bands of the Lake Superior Chippewa Indians. More than 300 soil scientists did the soil mapping which covered more than 35 million acres of land and cataloged more than 600 different soil types in Wisconsin. 

CHARLES N. BROWN/STATE HISTORICAL SOCIETY OF WISCONSIN

This photo shows a wetland and grassy pasture at the College of Agriculture campus on the UW-Madison campus about 1900, around the time Wisconsin began to survey its soils.

If you live in Wisconsin and are curious about what kind of soil you garden in, you can find soil data and more about the study here. But since this site is the work of scientists and government bureaucrats, I found it a bit confusing to use. Nevertheless, it has lots of cool stuff, including a "2006 Year of the Soil" poster of state soils. If you want to know what's your state soil, Jim — from Art of Gardening — provided the link that has the answer.

My Garden Odyssey: The moss garden

EPISODE XXXI

SHE SAID: Some things happen in the garden by design, others are the result of serendipity; our moss garden being a perfect example of the later. We'd seen pictures of the famous moss Temple Garden at Saihoji, of course. And we'd even seen the incredible moss garden at the Bloedel Reserve in the Pacific Northwest in person. But living in the upper Midwest, we never thought we'd be able to have a moss garden of our own — not until I realized we had the classic American dilemma: lawn grass that was attempting to grow in ever deepening shade under a pair of mature apple trees.

My moss garden on a good day.

One day I realized there were lush patches of moss growing in the midst of the grass. You couldn't actually see them unless you were at ground level looking down. I wondered how one could get rid of the grass without harming the moss. For starters, I decided on a low-tech approach: I sat down and began to pull out the grass — stem by stem — until the moss patch was visible. I held the moss in place with the palm of one hand while I pulled out the grass with the other hand. Usually, the grass just pulled through the moss, roots and all, without doing serious damage. 

I knew nothing about moss before I began my grass removal process — neither of us did. But two men came to our rescue: the first was George Schenk with his award-winning book, "Moss Gardening Including Lichens, Liverworts, and Other Miniatures." The book was packed with information, ideas for employing moss in the garden and gorgeous, inspirational pictures. Schenk's book convinced me a moss garden was worth the effort required.

Moss growing in a moist, shady corner of the garden.

The second font of moss wisdom was Andrew Hipp who taught a two-day workshop, "Introduction to Wisconsin Mosses," at the UW-Madison Arboretum. At the time, Hipp was finishing up his PhD at UW; today Dr. Hipp is the plant systematist and herbarium curator at the Morton Arboretum in Illinois. Mark and I both signed up for the class and spent a number of pleasant hours looking at and learning about mosses in a funky old classroom that was like a small cabin and had been built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s when they were part of the team effort that built the Arboretum.

Liverwort (both images from our garden, above) often piggybacks on the soil of nursery plants. 

We discovered a lot about mosses, including:

1. There are 13,000 species of mosses and 380 types can be found in Wisconsin. There are fewer mosses in urban areas as they are sensitive to pollution. 

2. Mosses can dry down and re-hydrate when it rains. Knowing that bit of info keeps me from watering my moss patches even during periods of drought.

Spore cases (I think) on an unidentified moss in the garden.

3. Mosses will come to your garden based on the conditions you have. So I don't take any moss from the wild or other locations. That way I get the ones that are looking for acidic clay soil — which is where my best mosses all grow. I also don't have to wonder which ones want sun and which shade as the appropriate ones will site themselves. Our largest moss garden is under big old apple  trees; but other patches are next to the fence on both sides of the drip line; between tree roots and stepping stones in both sun and shade, on moist ground and on hard-packed clay.

Moss growing on clay soil under the drip line of the fence roof.

4. Mosses are almost always growing with other different mosses. If you look at this photo you can see three different types. Identifying them, however, is always done under a microscope using particular parts of the moss. We brought samples of moss from our garden to the class and had them identified; but we would be hard pressed to name any of them today. We decided to just enjoy them and encourage them, but not worry about names and id's. We opted for the sensuality of moss over the science.

Multiple kinds of mosses growing together.

One of the things I've learned from experience is that mosses can come and go. They may suddenly desert a location where they grew lushly for a few years. Sometimes they return to a spot nearby, though usually not the exact same place. So I try to keep the patches weed free and to remove leaves and other debris which will suffocate the moss or keep it from direct contact with soil. I try to make sure that I'm not the cause of the mosses' disappearance.

Moss used to grow between the root flares where Mark is standing, but it disappeared a few years ago. Now moss is growing on dry, hard-packed dirt between the  tree and the stepping stones.

Moss is a much prettier and softer ground cover than grass and looks great during winter thaws unlike lawn suddenly revealed by snow melt. But it can't take the rough and tumble that grass can (kids and dogs), nor is it particularly low maintenance. It may not need fertilizing or weekly cuttings but I am constantly working to keep it clean and free of the wood chips which wash over the brick edging of the path adjacent to the moss during big storms. That's an ongoing maintenance issue that we plan to devote our attention to this summer. 

The moss at this end of the bed still needs weeding and you can see where the mulch from the path has washed over the bricks and into the moss.

One gardener I know uses fine mesh to keep the leaves and debris off her moss. I bought a big piece from her last summer but have not been exactly vigilant in using it.In fact, the moss is covered with tiny green crab apples and yellowing leaves that have fallen in the last couple of days. I pick them up constantly but my efforts only last a few minutes at most.

The other moss maintenance issue is weeding. It is ideal for seedlings of everything from dandelions to Jack-in-the-pulpit. There's always clumps of fine grass or vining weeds to pull out. 

Dappled light on the moss looks lovely but tricks me into reaching for clumps of light when I think I'm reaching for fallen yellow leaves.

Given the moss/grass comparison, would we encourage you to grow moss instead? Absolutely. I like to think of it the way George Schenk does: "I personally find that while moss certainly requires care, the job seems to give back more than does the relentless routine of lawn upkeep," he notes in his book. "The work of moss gardening has an elitist quality that I must admit I find appealing. Every John and Jane grows grass. Only Nature's chosen grow moss."