The Beautiful Garden of Liz Primeau

To be honest, I was a little nervous about visiting Liz Primeau's garden. She's someone I looked up to and admired for years, so there was a lot of expectations when it came to seeing her garden for the first time. 

Liz Primeau was the founding editor of Canadian Gardening magazine and the former host of Canadian Gardening Television on HGTV. She's the author of three books; Front Gardens: Growing More than Grass, In Pursuit of Garlic: An Intimate Look at the Divinely Odorous Bulb and My Natural History: The Evolution of a Gardener. When it comes to gardening in Canada, she has been very influential.

But what would her own private, very personal, outdoor space be like?

Of course, the nervous anticipation I felt on the prospect of visiting the home of a gardening hero was all in my own head and had everything to do with me, and nothing to do with Liz Primeau. We demand a lot from the heroes in our lives–a little unfairly I think. 

As I pulled into a shady spot at the side of the road, it seemed important to feel that my admiration had not been misplaced. At its very core, I simply didn't want to be wrong.

Any apprehension I felt disappeared the moment I saw the rainbow of tulips blooming in the front garden. The colors were somewhat grouped, but the overall effect was a riot of spring color. 

And not surprisingly, there was not a blade of grass in sight.

At one time, much further back in history, an expanse of green lawn was a sign of wealth. It meant you could afford a team of gardeners to hand cut a field of grass. Push mowers and then the invention of gas and electric movers made it possible for anyone, not just the wealthy upper classes, to have a nice lawn. 

Still, the prestige of owning a well-manicured lawn persisted well into the last century. The dream after the Second World War was to have a family, a car in the driveway and house in the suburbs with a beautiful lawn. It took years for someone to question this prescription for a happy life.

After she and her husband bought a property in Mississauga, the first thing Liz Primeau created was a backyard garden. She filled it with summertime flowers and native plants. 

The front yard was a different story. Like every other house in the neighbourhood, it had a lawn which her husband mowed every Sunday. While the backyard was a healthy and diverse ecosystem that attracted a host of insects, birds and animals, the front yard was a monoculture, that by enlarge, bees, butterflies and other wild creatures seemed to avoid.

The final straw that made Liz Primeau take radical action was an infestation of white grubs that were leaving ugly bald patches in the grass. A lawn company advised a liberal application of malathion to bring them under control. Instead, she transformed the front yard into yet more garden.

In the present day, this may not seem like a particularly radical thing to do, but twenty-seven years ago, I am sure it raised more than a few of the neighbour's eyebrows.

Many years later the front yard continues to be a mix of perennials, trees and shrubs. The structure that you see above sits at the intersection of a few of the pathways that crisscross the garden. At first, I thought that it was made of twisted branches, but as I got closer, I realized it was a metal artwork. 

Up near the house, in the shade of a large evergreen, you can see the hint of a wooden bench through the greenery.

Cushion Spurge, Euphorbia Polychroma prefers full sun and somewhat dry conditions. Normal or sandy soil is best. Cut Euphorbia Polychroma back hard in early summer to keep it neat, compact and prevent unwanted seedlings. Euphorbia Polychroma extrudes a milky-white sap that can be irritating to the skin, so wear garden gloves anytime while pruning. Height: 30-45 cm (12-18 inches), Spread: 45-60 cm (18-23 inches). USDA Zones: 3-9.

Growing rhododendrons successfully given Ontario's harsh winters and dry summers is not an impossible feat, but it does require knowledge of their particular preferences. I was certainly impressed with the beauty of the pale lavender and hot pink flowers.

An unknown variety of Dwarf Bearded Iris and Creeping Jenny, Lysimachia nummularia 'Aurea'. 

The first view of the backyard as you round the corner of the house.

As I strolled around the garden in the morning sunshine, I was struck by a number of things. One was Liz Primeau's use of native plants. While they continue to grow in popularity, native plants are still somewhat under appreciated.

A mix of shade lovers that include hosta, Ostrich Ferns and Canadian Wild Ginger.

Canadian Wild Ginger, Asarum canadense is native to the woodlands of Eastern North America. It has bright green, heart-shaped leaves with insignificant brownish flowers that are largely hidden by the foliage. Although it will colonize an area and tends to be more vigorous than European Wild Ginger (Asarum europaeum), it is not considered to be invasive. Part to full shade. Sandy or clay soil is fine. Average to moist soil suit this plant best. Height: 10-15 cm (4-6 inches), Spread: 15-30 cm (6-12 inches). USDA zones: 3-9.

Ostrich Ferns, Matteuccia struthiopteris are native ferns that are easily grown in average, medium to damp soil. They are happiest however, in rich soil with constant moisture. They spread by underground rhizomes and can form dense colonies when grown in favourable conditions. Ostrich Ferns prefer a cooler climate and don't fare well in the hot, humid summers of the southern States. Part shade to full shade. Height: 3-6 ft, Spread: 5-8 ft. USDA Zones: 3-7.

Large Flowering Trillium, Trillium grandiflorum is a wildflower native to Ontario. They have white flowers with three petals which are held aloft on a stem containing a whorl of three leaves. Their flowers are pollinated by ants, flies and beetles. Trilliums are spring ephemerals that require patience. They can take up to 7 years to go from seed to flower. As the flowers fade, they turn from white to a soft pink. Trilliums require moist, well-drained, slightly sandy soil that is rich in organic matter. Full to part shade. Height: 20-50 cm (7-19 inches) USDA Zones: 4-9.

The dominant feature of the backyard is a gazebo. It's painted a sophisticated charcoal color that blends into its surroundings, but it also has a flashy, orangey-red door that demands your attention. That push and pull make this traditional structure modern and edgy.

There are two styles of pathways in this part of the backyard. On the right, the path is made of rounded pea gravel, and on the left, there are big slabs of flagstone leading to the gazebo. Same material; different scale. If the same stone had been used, I think it would have been much less interesting. 

Another thing I'd like to point out is the relatively flat areas of the backyard that are dominated by groundcovers. Without these areas of quiet order, the garden could have looked like a messy jungle. The open areas of thyme and the Creeping Jenny offers breathing room and a break from the natural chaos that is a cottage garden.

Another thing I noticed in Liz Primeau's garden was a certain frugality in her repetition of plants. Certainly, she repeats these plants because she likes them, and of course, there is a cost saving in using plants you already have to make more plants, but I think there is more at work here than personal preference and the need to save money. 

On a design level, the repetition of flowers, like the dwarf bearded iris you see above, links one part of the garden to another. Repeated elements aren't a shortcoming, they're an asset that unifies the front and backyards.

Even without many flowers, there is a nice mix of colors and texture in the foliage here.

Polygonatum odoratum 'Variegatum' is a variegated form that has arching reddish colored stems and foliage that is edged with creamy-white. The fragrance of the flowers is lily-like. Height: 50-60 cm (20-23 inches) Spread: 30-45 cm (12-18 inches)

Well, I hope you enjoyed this tour as much as I did. Thinking things over, I see Liz Primeau's subtle influence in my preference to garden organically, in my use of native plants, and in my own front garden, where there is not a single blade of grass. And for that, I am grateful.

Which do you prefer: Symmetry or Asymmetry?

Who knows why we like the things we do! What is it that makes a certain color our favourite? And what is it about a shape or texture that attracts or repels us? Preferences are a mystery, but we definitely seemed wired to be more attracted to some things and than others.

Though you may not have given it much thought, when it comes to symmetry or asymmetry, I bet you have a natural tendency to choose one over the other. 

In the entry way above, a pair of black urns filled with ivy and pink hydrangeas flank either side of the door. The symmetry continues in the plantings along the pathway. Clumps of Japanese Forest Grass and the pink impatiens are repeated on either side of the walkway. Even the boxwood hedges are meticulously clipped to the same height.

Here is how the dictionary defines symmetry:

Symmetry: the quality of something that has two sides or halves that are the same or very close in size, shape, and position: the quality of having symmetrical parts.

The human body is symmetrical: two eyes, two ears, two arms and two legs. Perhaps that is why symmetry feels so comfortable.

Symmetrical container plantings seems like a popular choice for the front of a house. I think it's because there is something soothing about the perfect balance of like things.

White Alyssum, pansies and white daffodils fill the two urns.

In this garden the symmetry continues all the way to the front door, where a pair of urns are filled with white pansies, daffodils, ruffled ranunculus and branches of pussy willow.

Here is another example of classic symmetry, this time in a back garden. Everything is perfectly balanced on either side of the bench: the lattice work, the evergreen shrubs and the two urns filled with peach flowers.

So here's a little test. 

When you look at this front porch, do you feel like something is amiss? If this were your house, would you feel the urge to plant up a matching pot of pink geraniums and place it somewhere on the opposite side of the door?

If so, chances are you are a person who loves symmetry.

Before you decide which you like best, lets take a quick look at asymmetry. If symmetry is classic, asymmetry feels modern. There is something more sophisticated and edgy in the makeup of this form of balance. Here is how the dictionary defines asymmetry:

Asymmetry: lack of equality or equivalence between parts or aspects of something; lack of symmetry.

In my opening example, there are still two similar urns, but they aren't directly opposite one another. One is at the top of the staircase, and the other is at some distance at the bottom.

Here's a second more traditional example, where the containers are similar, 

but they aren't the same size. 

One is dramatically larger and taller than the other.

The balance of symmetry tends to feel formal and restrained. 

Asymmetry seems to a better job of transcending styles. My first example was contemporary arts & crafts, the second was quite traditional, and the look here may best be described as casual country.

As well as containers, plantings can employ asymmetry. The box balls are symmetrical, but the dominant evergreen tree has no mirror on either side of the gate, so the balance of the whole feels asymmetrical.

At the bottom of this stone staircase, the planting is completely different on either side.

So what do you think? Which pleases you the most? 

Symmetry or asymmetry?

Taking it Out Front: Gardening in the Public Eye

Gardening in the relative seclusion of the backyard is one thing. Taking gardening out front is sometimes a brave act of self-expression that is not for the faint of heart!


One bright, sunny day in early summer, I was out in my front garden attempting to prune a wildly overgrown forsythia into submission. The afternoon was hot with the first flush of summer humidity. Without much thought beyond comfort, I had dressed in navy shorts and an old worn tank top.

As the story unfolds you will see, that this was perhaps shortsighted for a number of reasons. First among them: the branches of the uncooperative bush was fighting back by poking and scratching my bare arms and legs.

When I paused for a breather, I looked over to see a compact car packed with teenage boys had come to stop at the red light at the corner. Through the car's open window I could hear their boisterous laughter and fragments of conversation overtop of some rather loud music. While stopped for the light, there was little to occupy their attention, so their gaze turned in my direction. Then one of them, no doubt egged on by the society of his peers, yelled out a very rude comment, the kind of demeaning observation that only a cocky teenage boy would dare say in public.

How does one respond to such a brazen remark without endangering one's dignity even further? Even if you are quick enough to fire-off a sharp tongued zinger, it would probably only up the anti and escalate an already unpleasant situation. After all it doesn't take much mental agility to be cruel.

Mid-summer Tiger lily

Let's face it, as a society we take particular interest in not only making judgements, but sharing our observations, however impolite. Wether its tuning in to see who will be voted off the island this week or calling in to vote for your favorite singer or dancer on this season's latest slate of reality TV, we love to participate in passing judgement.

You would think that one's home and garden would be an oasis from the mad world of snap judgements. Certainly this may be true for a secluded back garden, but take it out front on to a very busy street corner like mine and you quickly discover that you are the unwilling center of attention for every bored motorist passing by.

Gardening is my escape from day to day concerns. Though I regard it as my own personal oasis, when walking into my garden on our busy corner, I sometimes feel as if I have just stepped on to a theatrical stage.

I don't want to worry about clothes, hair and makeup when I garden, but it is hard not to be self-conscious when people gawk and stare as if the simple act of deadheading a rose bush was the most fascinating thing they ever saw.

God forbid you forget yourself for a moment and bend over to pull out a weed without having carefully considered the view you might be presenting to the world!

Now you may respond that I should be flattered by all this attention. No, not really! Just imagine if you could ask an animal at the zoo if he is flattered by all the gawkers. If he doesn't eat you for the sheer audacity of your question, he would tell you that there is nothing flattering about being watched.

Sometimes as the only sentinel at a busy intersection, I also find that motorists expect you to be freely willing to dispense driving directions. When I car slows, I now find myself preparing a mental map of local roads and calling up the addresses of popular destinations like the discount chicken outlet several streets over.

Seriously, it is beyond me how someone can leave the house with no idea whatsoever of how to get to their destination. How many times have I had to deal with a motorist on Venus who wants to get to Pluto. So often, I have been tempted to say impatiently to the lost motorist, "It's hopeless! Retrace your steps and go home. Then start over, this time with a map!" It has gotten to the point that, in order to deal with the litany of lost souls, we have begun to store local street maps in a wicker basket on the front porch. Believe you me, I have considered sending an invoice the local tourist authority for services rendered!

Late summer bloomer.

There are also garden questions from passing motorists. One woman, a local school bus driver who had stopped for the red light called out to ask the name of one of my roses. With the seconds clicking rapidly by before the light went green, I felt like I was on a game show: Name that Rose!  With the panic of the contestant knowing the buzzer was about to ring, I quickly replied that I had forgotten the name and would have to dig out my plant list and look it up. In the seconds before the light turned green, I did manage to give her the name of the nursery, hoping that she might look up the rose herself. Well the very next day, didn't she roll down her window again and ask to know if I had looked up the rose's name. Of course I was polite, but I felt like replying that I had no idea I was working to a deadline.

Fall mums in the front garden.

Not only am I expected to dispense free gardening advice, I am also expected to be willing to hand out free stuff. By way of example, one woman after a few brief pleasantries, practically demanded to know if I had any "suckers". Another woman, who saw me moving a large perennial clump, stopped her car to ask me if I was throwing the plant out and could she have it?

For me, generosity is not something you ask for or expect, it is something you receive.

Frost crystals on one of the roses.

Now, I have to balance this long rant to say, that I have also had wonderful feedback on my garden. There has been so many times when I have been favored with the ultimate comment. Motorists have taken the time to pull their car to the side of the road and have crossed the busy street just to tell me how much they enjoyed seeing the garden's parade of summer flowers. In particular, I remember one older gentleman who wanted to shake my hand and tell me that my garden brought him "great joy" every time he passed by. I was very touched and flattered.