Omnivoracious

Omni Crush: "Lives of the Trees" by Diana Wells

I can't be certain, but it seems like Diana Wells was riffing on Lives of the Artists --that seminal work of art history by the Renaissance artist and critic, Giorgio Vasari-- when she cleverly named her new book, Lives of the Trees.  Like Vasari's sixteenth-century collection of short, but pithy artist biographies, Wells provides readers with nutshell-sized natural histories on a very diverse body of legendary figures.  What Giotto, Brunelleschi, Raphael, and Michelangelo are to Vasari, the Ginko, Baobab, Cypress, Oak, and Mahogany are to Wells' compendium.  Each of the hundred "tree bios" in this totally addictive book will have you gawking at trees (whether common or exotic) with new found appreciation.  I was totally taken in by the first lines of the chapter on the Cherry.

America's favorite cherry, the darkly sweet Bing, owes its name to the Chinese foreman who worked in the Lewelling orchards in Milwaukie, Oregon.  We don't know much about Mr. Ah Bing except that in 1889, after working for thirty-five years in the orchard, he visited China and was not permitted to reenter America.  Poor thanks for his delicious legacy.  (p.73)

Reading this anecdote on the origin of the Bing cherry's name was a bit like eating a single piece of the fruit itself--it delivered a bite-sized burst of flavor that couldn't help me from wanting more.  I devoured the next two and half pages which offered up a fascinating history of the Greek and Latin origins of the word, why George Washington is associated with chopping down the tree, and why the Japanese value cherry blossoms so highly.  What we call, how we use, and appreciate  trees (in words, images, and rituals) across cultures is fascinating.  Thanks to Diana Wells' gem of a book, we have a very handy way of accessing these life stories.

Readers looking for a fully illustrated field guide to trees won't find one in this book (although artist Heather Lovett does provide a loving sketch of each tree's leaves and fruit). For field guides, I'd suggest The Sibley Guide to Trees or just about any Audubon regional field guide on the subject. But,  Lives of the Trees belongs on your reference shelf beside them.   It's the perfect book to dip into from the comfort of your couch or while sipping a drink at the corner cafe--preferably while gazing out the window at the tree that is in full bloom.  

--Lauren

Omni Daily Crush: "Forking Fantastic! Put the Party Back in Dinner Party"

Fact: I fantasize daily about dinner parties. While taming chaos in my garden this weekend, I mentally arranged bouquets, lit candles, and welcomed guests who devoured feasts and warmed the night with stories and drunken laughter, their faces lit by a crackling fire in the imaginary outdoor fireplace.

It’s not a stretch to say that my desire for these sorts of gatherings--fed by shimmering memories of open-air feasts in places and with people I’ve loved--has been my visceral motivation for making our garden, which has consumed most of my non-work time for six years now. This summer, as so much of this sweaty work comes to fruition, we must pause in our labor to celebrate!

Complicating Fact: Dinner parties stress the hell out of me (or rather, they have in the past). The need to keep guests not only occupied, but entertained; the pressure for the food not just to be good, but all hot at the same time. I don’t enough time and energy to recreate anything Martha would endorse, but that hasn't stopped me from trying--and then wondering why I wasn't enjoying my own party.

Everyone deserves the happiness of sharing home-made dinner with friends--and relaxing enough to be truly present. In parties past, I’ve transcended the stress for some wonderful, wine-soaked moments, but I never actually had a blast at my own party until last New Year’s Eve. Seized by the spirit of Zora O’Neill and Tamara Reynolds’s Forking Fantastic! Put the Party Back in Dinner Party, I invited a few friends over for dinner, and when they all accepted, I suddenly realized I had 18 people (OK, one was a baby) coming, and I couldn’t get off work to start cooking until 3:30. Oh, and some were staying the weekend. And the bathrooms weren’t clean, because Amazon’s a busy place during the holidays.

I panicked briefly, then drew courage from Zora and Tamara’s down-to-earth, salty-tongued stories about parties gone wrong but still awesome, and drew from their genius strategies for whipping up not just amazing food, but actual fun for all involved. Infused with their spirit, I put my guests to work in the kitchen, and we got three courses plus dessert on the table by 8:00. We all felt proud of the results, and even more fantastic was the forking amazing feeling we got from participating in that essential human ritual of sharing food and time together.

For a taste of Zora and Tamara’s style, watch this montage of their Sunday Night Dinners (and don’t miss the Naked Chef cameo).

Omni Daily Crush: "Succulent Container Gardens"

When my 5-year-old nephew came by my garden last summer, the otherworldly plants snaking out of my patio containers fascinated him. He wanted to feel them, but when I told him they were succulents, he drew his hand back fast and asked gravely, "What do they suck?" (Cuuuuuute.)

Succulents--a plant gang that includes cacti, the tender and showy echeverias, and cold-hardy sempervivum commonly known as hen and chicks, among others--so do not suck that I'm always amazed when I realize so many people I know and love haven't really noticed them before. For my money, succulents are the most exciting plants for new gardeners. As Debra Lee Baldwin says in her gorgeous new Succulent Container Gardens, "these are plants that allow you to be lazy" and still look amazing--just give them sun, drainage, and a little water every week or two, and they'll reward you by looking plump and happy.

Succulent leaves come in colors rarely found in the natural world (like frosty robin's egg blue and inky purple, pink, and red), in amazing geometric shapes that spiral or drape in green beads or fish hooks. Some look like candy, or have intricate patterns on their leaves. Some look like coral, and when the sun hits them, they seem to glow from the inside so your undersea scene looks surreal and sci-fi. The texture and color combinations you can mix up offer endless creative variety. They're so fun to play with! They're also among the easiest plants to propagate, so you small collection will be fruitful and multiply. And they're amazingly versatile, suiting style from minimalist to quirky to lusciously exuberant, as Succulent Container Gardens so gorgeously illustrates.

Designing with Succulents, Baldwin's previous book, is a seductive guide to integrating succulents into your larger landscape. But beginners seeking the satisfaction of starting small, apartment dwellers, and anyone in a climate that could kill the more tender varieties if they were left outside will be wowed by the planting possibilities (in pots and on walls) on display in Succulent Container Gardens.

It also offers ample inspiration for more seasoned gardeners, from design advice to info on rare varieties. The playfulness of Baldwin's prose is matched by her knowledge, making this both an accessible introduction and a valuable resource.

I've been obsessed with succulents for years, and as I paged through this book for the first time, I think I shouted some obscene expression of admiration every few pages. (Thank God I wasn't in public.) --Mari Malcolm

Omni Daily Crush: "McGee & Stuckey's The Bountiful Container"

This past weekend I decided to make a salad for dinner.  So, I stepped outside, and picked a bowl full of sweet-as-sugar cherry tomatoes from two plastic pots on my terrace.  I can't take all the credit for this moment of late summer bliss--even though I watered the heck out of those scraggly vines during Seattle's record-breaking heat wave in July.  They grew to fruition thanks to Rose Marie Nichols McGee and Maggie Stuckey.  To them I say:  "Thank you , thank you, horticultural goddesses. You've made me one very happy novice gardener." This green-thumbed duo's container gardening manual, McGee & Stuckey's The Bountiful Container, is essential reading for city rats eager to grow their own delish fruits and veggies, herbs and edible flowers in pots.  I'm not alone in my thanks; the book has 65 rave customer reviews, and counting.

Even the most skeptical apartment dweller can conquer  "plotless" gardening thanks to McGee and Stuckey's manual.  The writing and layout are logical, clear, and encouraging to the inexperienced. As soon as I flipped to the tomato section, I knew I was in good hands.  There are no super glossy, intimidating photos of someone's to-die-for penthouse apartment garden.  Rather, one finds pages mapped out in two neat columns with clearly marked and succinct sections like "Choosing at the Garden Center" and "Tomato Basics."  The hand-drawn illustrations manage to charm and instruct.   Did I mention that this paperback is about the same size and shape as your average novel?  You'll be compelled to read during the morning commute and pencil-in notes.  I'm already envisioning that "winter harvest bowl" of lettuces. 

For do-it-yourself's who've liked: You Grow Girl by Gayla Trail, and Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life by Barbara Kingsolver, and just about anything by Michael Pollan.   

--Lauren

Omni Daily Crush: "The Big Orange Splot"

As a kid, I was blessed with a marvelous picture-book library (mostly due to the generosity of my children's librarian aunt). My best-loved volumes live on in my living room, where I enjoy sharing them with wee guests. But I recently became aware of a gap in my collection--I had a serious hankering for The Big Orange Splot, which arrived on my scene in the late '70s and somehow got lost in my shuffle to adulthood. Happily, an Amazon package landed on the porch yesterday, reuniting me with Mr. Plumbean.

This particular splot was the work of a seagull, who--out of malice? carelessness? exhaustion? it's not clear--dropped a can of orange paint on Mr. Plumbean's house, blighting his "neat street" and drawing sympathy from his neighbors. But the splot snapped something in Mr. Plumbean, and rather than repaint his house back to drab, he painted--under cover of night--until his house was "like a rainbow. It was like a jungle. It was like an explosion. There was the big orange splot.... And there were pictures of elephants and lions and pretty girls and steamshovels." Then come the palm trees, boababs, and prangipani. Then a hammock and an alligator (chained and lounging).

When the neighbors' shouting doesn't faze him and an appointed representative arrives to talk sense, they sip lemonade all night, while Mr. Plumbean says things like, "My house is me and I am it. My house is where I like to be, and it looks like all my dreams." As his neighbors (one by one) experience his place, they return home to transform their own space into manifestations of their own weird, wonderful imaginations.

This is not a beautiful book--the drawings look like they were done with those nicely smelly markers, possibly by a skilled 8-year-old. The idea that Mr. Plumbean could transform his home (complete with clock tower) and plant an entire garden in under a week is clearly preposterous. But I missed this story so much I had to have it back--in the durable School & Library Binding format, no less--because my husband and I have spent the last five or so years giving ourselves pep talks and spending all our "free" moments building, painting, and planting. Because our house is us and we are it. Our house is where we like to be, and it looks like all our dreams. (See what they look like on HGTV's Gardening by the Yard on August 16, if you don't mind getting up at 7:30 a.m.) --Mari

Omni Daily Crush: "The Jewel Box Garden"

In my very first Omnivoracious post (“Best Way to Make a Garden? Make a Garden Library”), I talked about how I'd populated my garden with plants I'd fallen in love with in books. Truthfully, it was more lust than love that drove me to plant a lot of what now greets me at home, and many of them first gave me sweaty palms in Thomas Hobbs's Jewel Box Garden, his follow-up to Shocking Beauty. (In fact, I'd wager a lot of gardeners first gasped over echeverias--those dazzlingly architectural tender succulents that come in a rainbow of pastels--when they got a look at his Vancouver, B.C., garden's exquisite succulent wall).

Hobbs is a hoot. He characterizes his relationship with plants thus: "Unknowingly, I allowed plants to enslave me as their spokesperson, caretaker and pimp." When I ran into him at a gardening conference last year and mentioned--not quite as casually as I'd planned--that I considered The Jewel Box Garden to be the single biggest influence on my gardening style, he laughed, slung his arm over my shoulders, and declared, "We should live together!"

Sadly, it didn't work out (seems he was kidding--drat!), but I still love to virtually visit his world, particularly the Jewel Box, which hasn't left my bedside bookshelf since the book arrived in early '06. Sometimes--especially if I'm drifting off to sleep and trying to trade visions of spreadsheets and XML for some fantastic plantiness--I just soak in the pictures. Hobbs's flair for garden drama still gives this failed actress shivers. He's passionate about the value of making our wildest imagined worlds real, and his Jewel Box opens with a chapter called "Life, as we dream it could be."

He approaches the entire act of garden-making from the point of view of an artist ("Think of your garden, no matter how small, as an exhibition space"). But for Hobbs, it's not about just decorating. It even goes beyond creating gardens as a restorative oasis from the craziness of our larger lives. He dares us to "look deeper and find the door to your well of creativity. Access the scary side of your personality." He delivers his most practical advice on setting the stage through hardscaping, livening up your soil, and keeping your plants healthy with an aura of magic ("Stop thinking of yourself as a gardener and become an artistic, psychic liaison between plant and animal"). This sentence in particular resonated in my gut like a gong: "As I putter around in the garden, I like to envision one current going out of me and a different current coming in. I deliberately try to connect to something, and that is why my garden stops traffic."

Rereading this marvelous book last night, I realized that Hobbs had not only had a profound influence on my gardening style, but on my entire philosophy of gardening as creative, spiritually significant play with plants. When I'm grooving in the garden, I'm in that state of flow, and I can feel the plants flowing right back. (I have no doubt that's major factor for why my garden not only feels wonderful and keeps me sane, but has started to attract some exciting attention from some of the very authors and photographers whose work has inspired me.)

The Jewel Box Garden is published by Timber Press, a jewel of a publisher based in Portland, Oregon, devoted entirely to marvelous, information-rich books about plants. In the coming weeks, you're going to be hearing a lot more about Timber from me, as I revive my garden library series with a slew of profiles from many of my favorite Timber authors. Lots more fodder for those leafy dreams. --Mari Malcolm

Omni Daily Crush: "Wicked Plants: The Weed That Killed Lincoln's Mother and Other Botanical Atrocities"

I'm a plant geek, so I took a little vacation last week to Vancouver Island, where I spent three days at a gardening conference, immersed in spectacular slide shows (hortporn, as we plant geeks cheekily call it), taking diligent notes on the choicest garden specimens, and visiting the most beautiful private gardens around Victoria. And when I got back to my room after a full day of oohing and aahing over roses and clematis and the latest verigated whatever, I invariably indulged in my latest botanical bookcrush, Wicked Plants, Amy Stewart's guide to the plant kingdom's most vicious, roguish members.

I'd had my eye on it ever since I saw this chilling trailer. When I held a finished copy in my hands and examined its elegant, playful botanical etchings from Briony Morrow-Cribbs, I knew we'd be spending more than a little time together. But the more we see of each other, the more I find it one of the most fascinating, funny volumes I've come across in ages. With her characteristic wit, Stewart relates the misdeeds of these vile specimens, which she has culled meticulously (as audiences at her readings learn) from obscure historical documents. And while a handful of plants made the cut more for their intoxicating qualities, illegality, or ill manners than for genuine evilness, most of them will make you extremely uncomfortable--usually dead (Stewart picked plants largely for the "body count" they'd racked up). "There are no good ways to die in this book," she told those of us assembled for the reading I attended when she came through Seattle earlier this month. And as she showed us her vials of deadly seeds and pods, Stewart gave us this hot tip: "you can get a lot of bad things on eBay."

As she's researched the book, Stewart has also been cultivating about 30 wicked plants in her home garden in Northern California, which was featured in this New York Times article. They also mentioned that she "plants" moldy old books with wicked titles in her poison-plant beds, and when I told her I thought that was a delightful idea, I got a little story that didn't make it into the Times piece: while planting a decrepit copy of Caleb Carr's Angel of Darkness next to some foxgloves, Stewart opened the book and randomly scanned a passage that described a plot to kill someone with digitalis (commonly known as foxglove). Wicked cool coincidence.

--Mari

Recommended for fans of Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, any of Amy's previous, marvelous books, for gardeners of all stripes, anyone who wants to avoid being poisoned, and anyone who likes the creepy and weird.

Oh, Those Wicked, Wicked Plants: A Conversation with Amy Stewart

Wicked Plants: A Book of Botanical Atrocities by Amy Stewart might be more accurately described as a brilliant "bestiary," so lively and alive are the rogues, assassins, and ne'er-do-wells of this expertly conceived tome. Just out today, Wicked Plants includes etchings by Briony Morrow-Cribbs and illustrations by Jonathon Rosen. The featured flora ranges from Khat, which "gun-toting Somalian men stuffed...into their cheeks," racing around Mogadishu "in a jittery high that lasted until late into the night," to Aconite, which "Nazi scientists found useful as an ingredient for poisoned bullets." Stewart includes such cheerily titled sections as "This Houseplant Could be Your Last" and "The Devil's Bartender." Everything about this brilliant, fascinating, and often quite funny hardcover screams buy me, down to the elegant book ribbon and the excellent design. I can't always say I find plants the most interesting of subjects, but Stewart's enthusiasm and her great writing made me an instant fan of hither-to-unknown-to-me plants like Ratbane, Voodoo Lily, and Horse Choke Mayhem Vine (okay, so I made that last one up, but if you read Wicked Plants, you'll soon find that the name wouldn't look at all out of place amongst the real ones..).

I recently had the pleasure of interviewing Stewart via email about her book, and about such serious subjects as cage matches between bears and plants. She replied from home, between trips to Los Angeles and Minneapolis. "The book tour is like this--go somewhere for a few days or a week and then go home long enough to do laundry and wave to my husband, and then leave again. I'll be mostly gone through July."

        

Best Books of April: How Kate Morton's Forgotten Garden Grew

My second pick for the Best of April, Kate Morton's The Forgotten Garden, completely overran my imagination during the time it took me to consume its nearly 700 pages (which, in case you wondered, was one rare sunny weekend I devoted to sitting outside and submerging myself in the book for long stretches, my idea of exquisite decadence). Perhaps because we share a lot of the same obsessions--like the power of stories (real and imagined, particularly in the lives of children), and the freedom and vitality you can feel in a garden that's been let go a little wild--I ended up with a list of overly long questions for Morton. She sent these lovely responses, which I hope will inspire to you to let her book work its magic on you--preferably outside on a succession of warm spring days. --Mari Malcolm

Amazon.com: The Forgotten Garden has some marvelous parallels with Frances Hodgson Burnett's Secret Garden, and Burnett even makes an appearance in your book as a guest at a garden party. Did her book inspire portions of your story?

Kate Morton: The Secret Garden was one of my favourite books when I was a little girl. Along with stories like The Faraway Tree and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, it's one of many classic childhood tales in which children escape from the adult world to a place in which their imagination is allowed free rein. However, it wasn’t my intention to reference The Secret Garden when I first started writing.

In fact, The Forgotten Garden (which was called The Authoress until the final draft!) began with a family story: when she was 21, my grandmother's father told her that she wasn't his biological child. Nana was so deeply affected by this knowledge that she told no one until she was a very old lady and finally confided in her three daughters. When I learned Nana’s secret, I was struck by how fragile a person’s sense of self is and knew that one day I would write a story about someone who experienced a similar life-changing confession.

When I began to write about Nell, I knew that her mystery was going to lead her to an English cottage, but the other details were hazy. It was while I was auditioning English locations for my book that I came across mention of the Lost Gardens of Heligan in Cornwall. My interest was piqued, and I began reading everything I could find about this place: a grand country estate with astounding gardens that had been locked and forgotten after its gardening staff were killed during the first world war and the owners moved away.

Garden Library Profile #3: Gayla Trail

The first book I always recommend to crafty gals who've been seized by gardening fever is You Grow Girl, Gayla Trail's hip yet completely unpretentious guide to organic gardening. It's the physical counterpart to her fantastically informative blog of the same name, which she started in 2000 and has grown into a community of like-minded gardeners. As a graphic designer and DIYer with an eye for the lovely and unusual, Gayla goes beyond the basics of soil prep, planting, and pest vanquishing to more creative projects, like making leafy stepping stones and carnivorous plant bogs. A Torontonian, Gayla has especially clever advice for urbanites coaxing a garden on a roof, balcony, or just a sunny windowsill. In all her writing and her talks across North America, she radiates an infectious excitement about growing. If she has her way, we'll all fall madly, deeply in love with nature, in our gardens and far beyond.

Thanks, Gayla, for sharing the best of your shelves. --Mari Malcolm

Amazon.com: How would you describe your garden library?

Gayla Trail: Colourful. As a designer and photographer, I have to admit that while I know better I can't help choosing a book by its cover. I expect a lot from the interior pages too. I am not drawn to 1- or 2-colour gardening books.

While my library is packed with full-colour, image-heavy books, these days I am most drawn to gardening memoirs and how-to books that include personal stories or a distinctly personable bent.

Amazon.com: What was your first gardening book?

Gayla Trail: I did not have gardening books growing up, although I did frequent the young scientist section at the public library. So while my memory leans more towards book about keeping praying mantises as pets and brewing up batches of paramecium, I must have come across one or two gardening books along the way.

The first gardening book I bought as an adult was horrible. I was overwhelmed in the bookstore and ended up with a book that had lots of pictures but was incredibly dull and uninspiring. I promptly gave it away and have absolutely no recollection of what it was called or who authored it.

Amazon.com: Which book do you wish you'd had in your early years as a gardener?

Gayla Trail: Second Nature by Michael Pollan and The Gardener's Manifesto by Lorraine Johnson.

They are not how-to's. What attracts me to both are their progressive ideas about nature and how that relates to gardening, especially in the city. As an urban gardener, I originally felt very left out and on the margins of any real gardening discourse--as if I’d never be considered a “real” gardener because I don’t own land or a backyard for that matter. Both of these books helped me to fully and finally let go of those prejudices.

Amazon.com: Who's your favorite garden writer?

Gayla Trail: I don’t have a favorite but there are several that inspire, including many of the writers I have already mentioned. Jamaica Kincaid is one of my favorite authors in general--I've read all of her books. She also happens to be a gardener with a couple of books on the subject to her credit: My Garden (Book) and the collection My Favorite Plant. I like the way her honest, direct, and unapologetic style translates to garden writing.

Monty Don is a British writer with a great sense of humor. I have only read one book written by him, a collection of essays entitled Gardening Mad. I really appreciate his relaxed wit.

Amazon.com: What book has most influenced your gardening style or philosophy?

Gayla Trail: My style is experimental and off the cuff. I’m not much of a planner and tend to move things around constantly, especially the containers. I grow in groupings rather than rows. My gardens are messy. Garden books can’t get away from photos of orderly gardens regardless of what they preach in the text (even I tidy up slightly when I photograph!) so in that sense no book has influenced me. I  suppose I am more influenced by those childhood science-experiments-for-kids books!

I will say however, that I really appreciated The One-Straw Revolution by Masanobu Fukuoka because it validated an impulse I've always had to drop prunings and weeded plants in place on the soil surface rather than transferring to the compost bin. It was reassuring to find that this made sense to a farmer of such distinction.

Amazon.com: Which book has the most inspiring, luscious, or provocative pictures?

Gayla Trail: The photography in Planted by British garden writer Andy Sturgeon drew me to the book and later his writing and approach sealed the deal. It's a full-colour book, yet they dared to insert black and white photographs. It absolutely works! The pictures are eye candy.

I suppose it is obvious that I connect more closely with British garden writers than North American. It’s the dry humor and wit.

Amazon.com: What's your most essential reference book?

Gayla Trail: The Organic Gardener's Handbook of Natural Insect and Disease Control, edited by Barbara Ellis and Fern Marshall Bradley. If I had to reduce my library down to one book, this would be it.

Amazon.com: Which volume in your collection has the most sentimental value?

Gayla Trail: There are two both signed by women that I respect and admire as gardeners and people of integrity. I won’t tell you what they say, but both inscriptions make me a little teary-eyed:

The New Ontario Naturalized Garden by Lorraine Johnson. She came to a presentation I gave about guerrilla gardening in which I mentioned her. To see her out in the audience as I quoted from her totally blew my mind. She’s been a real inspiration to me.

A Way to Garden by Margaret Roach. We met online just recently and she sent me a copy of her book, which is absolutely brilliant and brimming with honesty, insight, and passion for her garden.

Amazon.com: What's your favorite recent addition?

Gayla Trail: The Heirloom Tomato by Amy Goldman. I’ve been strapped for time recently and haven’t had a chance to read a single word since I bought the book. However, I have thumbed through the photos. I could eat those photos. Never mind that it’s also the middle of winter and I could eat my own hand in exchange for a decent tomato. A book filled with full-color, lush photographs of tomatoes at this time of year is like cruel (but wonderful) pornography for the space-deprived.

My spouse bought me a book called The Earth Knows My Name: Food, Culture and Sustainability in the Gardens of Ethnic Americans that I’ve only been able to briefly skim but have been itching to dive into for months.

Amazon.com: What’s on your wish list?

Gayla Trail: I keep meaning to pick up The Compleat Squash by Amy Goldman. With so little space I never get the chance to grow all the gorgeous squashes I find in the seed trading catalogues. Instead, I’m forced to make do with one or two per year, slowly and painfully inching my way through the hundreds I covet. My eyes eat up books like this, but it also makes me crazy.

See all our garden library profiles at http://www.omnivoracious.com/gardening. --Mari