The Master Plan

Our backyard - an unsightly before.

The precursors to a legitimate spring season are arriving, mainly chirping birds, occasional bursts of sunshine, and the brown edges of the lawn emerging from a weird shade of snow, and as the snow recedes, our project grows larger. It’s time to bust a gardening move, which is to say we should start planning. Mike, the second, more-practical half of The 1326 Project, suggested making a project wish list so we can prioritize, plan, budget, etc.

To Do Wish List

"They"say we should...

• Test Soil
• Map Light Exposure

Front Yard

• Remove Ugly Bushes
• Replace with  Non-Ugly Plants
• Paint Front Door
• Rebuild Porch (oy!)
• Walkway

Backyard

• Remove Random Middle-Fence
• Paint Burnt-Orange Deck
• Build On-Deck Seating
• Build On-Deck Privacy
• Build Vegetable Boxes
• Start Vegetable Seeds
• Remove Precarious Trees
• Fire Pit
• Plants!
• Turn shed into a wonderful carriage house/hang-out/guest quarters/super space (Mike, reading over my shoulder, just let out an "Oooo!" and said, "Put a star on that one." This is his dream.)

Side Yards & Driveway

• Cut Flower Garden
• New Gate
• Widen Driveway
• Window boxes

No big, right?

Zones

There are certainly benefits to living a mile from Lake Michigan, two being the incredible beach in the summer and the Lake Effect snow in the winter. Right after I took the before picture in the first post, the world turned white. Between cross country skiing and hiking snow-covered dunes, I’ve been busy trolling the world of gardening blogs, and to the south and west and maybe a bit to the east, everyone seems to be rejoicing in signs of spring. Now? Really? March begins at the end of this week, yes, but I’m adding another layer of socks and drinking cocoa. In fact, there's a winter storm happening right now. Lightbulb moment: it’s time to explore zones.

“Zones” is a word you hear often in the gardening community. It’s like a strange greeting gardeners share with one another when gathered en mass. “What zone are you?” Is it a secret code? The number of gold gardening stars? Should I be worried about being sorted into the wrong house? Nah.

The USDA did us all a favor and developed a cheat sheet so we don't unnecessarily kill plants by choosing varieties that won't stand up to the extreme cold and/or heat of our area. Then the plant experts of the world assigned the same system (based on temperature) to all living, green things. Now, thanks to the Internet, all you need is this link and your zip code.

We're Zone 6b. Not so sure why they had to go all A and B on us, but my understanding is that we should be able to successfully grow any plant that is rated at a six or below. It can handle this winter wonderland that rages outside the window and is sure to continue for another month. Until then, it's back to admiring gardens in zones higher than ours, gardens that are welcoming spring.

Where to start? Exactly.

When I’m planning a project epic in scale – and every project tends to be some degree of epic in my mind – the starting line is daunting. Thoughts and ideas are battling it out; the lineup changes every other day. For me and my mental mess, the best way to start is to trick myself into making decisions. 

Have you ever been faced with two options, only to flip a coin? Heads is the latte and tails the mocha. You flip. It lands on tails, and suddenly the rules change to two out of three. You want the latte. You wanted the latte all along, and you just tricked yourself into making that decision. Really, it works.

Step One: Gather the things that make you go “hmmm” 
Inspiration can come from anywhere: books, magazines, garden tours, catalogs, Pinterest. If a vignette makes you stop, take note. It doesn’t have to be garden specific; the colors, textures, and tone of your personal style will resonate throughout your life, from your shoes to your art and definitely your garden.

Going old school inspiration with a glue stick

I’ve set up a 1326 Project Pinterest board and am pinning away. I also am a big fan of collages. Pinning and tearing and pinning and tearing and gluing. It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as I like it. Projects, blooms, colors, the serious and the not so serious.

Step Two: Connect the dots
With the swipe of a glue stick and click of a shutter or mouse, you may not realize it, but you’re making decisions. Look for reoccurring thoughts and themes. Are there any flowers or colors that keep reappearing? Bam! You just tricked yourself into knowing exactly what you want. Sneaky. 

It's early to make any definite conclusions, but thus far, I’ve noticed two things. One, I have a weakness for overly frilly roses and peonies. Two, I’m drawn to the organized, clean look of raised bed vegetable gardens. It’s like a fancy formal garden without having to shape evergreens or stop for high tea.

Yes, everything outside is snow/ice/slush covered, but there are seven weeks until spring, plenty of time to start starting.

The Project

I don’t know what I’m doing.

I’ve never had a proper garden before. In fact, the few houseplants I own live despite any care I manage to give them. To said houseplants: I’m sorry, really I am. It’s just, like I said, I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t even know what you are – besides green and sometimes crunchy. Please don’t scoff at the idea of my writing a gardening blog.

This story – the 1326 story – begins several months ago, the night before a job interview. I was out with girlfriends, sipping on nerve-calming cocktails, trying to name all the flowering shrubs I could.

“Roses, right? And lilacs. Are peonies shrubs? No? Really, are you sure? Okay, uh, hydrangeas. I read about them on the dude’s blog.”

The interview was for Spring Meadow Nursery, home of Proven Winners shrubs, and “the dude” was Tim Wood, my now boss. In this version of the tale, he found my gardening incompetency absolutely endearing and said, “Don’t worry, Shannon. We can teach you the plant stuff.” So, I got the job, and during the first week, I confirmed all suspicions about peonies. They are not shrubs.

The "Before" shot. Be gone, ugly shrubs!

Shortly after the job came the house. Set in the idyllic lakeside town of Grand Haven, Michigan is our 100 year old home - the perfect spot for my boyfriend, dog and me to settle down. It's charming, has a vintage kitchen sink that I fell in love with right away... and features the most horendous, monster green blobs eating the whole front yard.

Okay, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I have to do something. {Nay-saying houseplants wail in the background} I can’t just stand around and let ugly evergreens have the run of our yard, not when I work in the gardening industry, not when I have access to amazing gardening minds at least five days a week. Our house is better than that. We're better than that. So I pouted and pitched (did I mention it was a marketing job?) and got everyone to agree to help with the project, The 1326 Project. I'll plan and plant, water and wait, documenting every step - and misstep - along the way.