Gardener of the Month!
07:11 PM - Jun 12, 2009
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When some of the staff here suggested we interview Scott Stewart as our June Gardener of the Month, I have to admit I was a bit skeptical. After all, despite the fact that Scott is a nice fellow and a great customer, none of us had actually ever seen his garden, so it seemed risky at best. But I had a hunch we would not be disappointed; not only has Scott bought perhaps dozens of carts of plants over the years, he just has that presence, that aura of a great gardener. Worst case scenario, I thought, we would find out where all those great plants ended up, and after my visit to his garden I can safely report they couldn’t be in better hands.
Instant Revival
The first thing that caught my eye as we pulled into the circle driveway was the largest bottlebrush tree I’m sure I’ve ever seen. The second thing was another one, equally colossal, both planted near the entrance of a tasteful stucco and tiled Spanish Revival home perched at the back of a cul de sac. As I began to explore the front gardens in a horticultural trance, seeing more and more giant tropical plants, I suddenly realized the bottlebrushes were simply the two biggest bread crumbs in a trail that was leading me to one of two conclusions: either Scott covered his entire garden in greenhouse plastic every winter, or I was standing in the midst of an impossibly warm microclimate. After all, according to Scott the gingers, the eight foot tropical bird of paradise, and giant peace lily adorning the front of his home were all left outside, both in pots and in the ground, all winter without a bit of frost damage. Peace lily? Outside? I’ve seen lots of tropical annuals perennialize here in Austin, but even in the mildest winter there should at least be some frost burn on such tender plants as these. Something about this place just didn’t make sense, and as Scott led me around the side of the house I aimed to figure it out. The garden was beautiful, to be sure, and a fitting tropical frame for the Spanish style home of a transplanted Miami resident…but how the heck could he grow house plants outside year after year? Had he sold his gardener’s soul to some dark and ultimately vengeful horticultural demon? Was his home perched atop some sort of volcanic vent that could blow at any moment? Poltergeist? Ancient Indian burial ground? I had so many questions. Then I stepped into the back yard and completely forgot where I was.
Groomed With a View
In a garden, timing is everything. The best garden designers think about how a garden will unfold itself to the visitor, and employ various tricks and techniques to ensure a space presents itself in the right order, at the right time to maximize the viewing experience. Winding paths, stepping stones, bridges, and partial screening can all be the type of enhancing obstacles (when well-placed) that can serve to lift the visitor out of his comfort zone and cause a pleasant disorientation as garden rooms reveal themselves. Such an obstacle presented itself to me as I rounded the corner of the house and went through an iron gate into Scott’s back yard. My attention was immediately grabbed by a crystal clear pond sprawling lengthwise across the path, with no bridge to cross. Instead, there were limestones emerging from the water like mini islands, flat on top and spaced for stepping. With camera in one hand and note pad in the other, I had to focus to avoid slipping into the drink, but upon reaching the other side I looked up and was more than amply rewarded. The pond crossing served to keep my eyes on the ground until I was out of the jungle-like foliage lining the path and standing square in the middle of the sprawling patio, where I could fully experience the visual climax of this garden: a yawning, panoramic view of downtown Austin in all its skyscraping glory, framed by live oak boughs and dense tropical greenery. Between me and the city was a swimming pool, water spilling over its furthest edge, blurring the border between pool and skyline, creating the illusion that we were not just overlooking the city but floating over and toward the city. If memory serves, the word that escaped my mouth at this point was a low, guttural “WHOA”, followed by prolonged silence. Scott led me down a path around and beneath the infinity edge of the pool, where the water splashed into a small grotto hanging over a hillside almost steep enough to be called a cliff.
Happy Plants
As we toured the garden I noticed many plants thriving that until now I’ve been convinced were difficult to grow in Austin’s chalky alkaline soils. My first assumption was that Scott is diligent with sulfur or liquid iron, because I’ve just not seen Japanese maples and gingers do quite so well here before. His secret, I found out, is as simple as it is perplexing: Dillo Dirt, applied whenever he builds or replants a bed, and a once-annual liquid feed across the garden. Since his nutrient regime does little or nothing to remedy the soil’s pH chemistry, I am left to assume his plants, like everyone else who comes to the garden, are just happy to be there. Every specimen looks perfectly tended, and it’s obvious this is the work of an accomplished gardener, but to listen to Scott his gardening successes are more serendipity than skill, including the most spectacular example of giant Ligularia tussilaginea I have ever seen (see picture). Some of Scott’s favorite plants to work with are of course gingers, split leaf philodendron and hardy bamboo palm (Chamadorea radicalis). Scott also has quite an affinity for the ancient group of plants called cycads, which include the more common Sago palm and cardboard palm (neither of which are true palms, but vaguely resemble them). The garden is punctuated with these architectural relicts of the plant kingdom, adding a prehistoric feel to the place.
Feature of the Black Lagoon
After our dizzying stroll through the back yard, I assumed the tour was over: front yard, back yard, done…right? Wrong. Since the house sits at the back end of a cul de sac and on the top of a hill, and he owns a wide swath of property surrounding the house, it’s kind of like he has two back yards. Or a big back yard and an almost as big side yard. Regardless, we still had an entire garden room to explore, an area I like to call the Black Lagoon. The Black Lagoon is just that, a giant, deep and dark koi pond tucked into the side of his steep hillside garden. You have to walk down a few steps made of limestone boulders to reach the pond, which is surrounded by plantings of tropicals and aquatic plants. Also in this part of the garden I found an impressive and spiny specimen of Kapok tree (Ceiba pentandra), maybe ten feet tall and emerald green. I’ve now seen several of these trees thriving in Austin, including a giant at Zilker Botanical Garden, I’m convinced everyone in Austin should grow this bizarre plant. It single-handedly catapults the most mundane garden into downtown Weirdville, which around here is a plus. In the shade of the Kapok grows an impressive toad lily (Tricyrtis hirta), a lavender summer beauty that’s showing up more and more in Texas gardens, but is by no means common.
It was time to leave, so I took a few final pictures and thanked him for his kindness and hospitality. His garden home is truly a sight to behold, and the microclimate he has learned to benefit from is quite remarkable. At long last we could connect the gardener with his garden, a luxury I wish we could afford with every customer. Thanks to Scott Stewart, Great Outdoors’ Gardener of the Month.
