Chasing Clouds

I first came across the First Flame Maple 'Iseli Introduction' (Acer × pseudosieboldianum) at the north end of the viewing garden in 2022.

2022

Over the four years it has resided within the Secret Heart Island, it has thrived and provided countless opportunities to enjoy its ever-changing foliage. 

2023

2024

2025

2025

During that time, I pruned it only sparingly, allowing it to establish naturally and reveal its own growth habit.

It has grown substantially, but in doing so it developed a more shrub-like form than I had envisioned. As a result, it was becoming too bulky and beginning to change the character of the north end of the viewing garden.

Between the Snowmound Spirea hedge and the First Flame Maple, the surrounding ground-level plantings were becoming increasingly crowded and receiving less light. I began by completing the annual hard prune of the Snowmound Spirea before turning my attention to the maple.

I knew I needed to proceed carefully. The First Flame Maple should be pruned in a way that minimizes vigorous new growth, yet I was undertaking this work in the middle of summer. The advantage of summer pruning was that the fully leafed canopy made it much easier to evaluate the tree's structure and identify areas that had become congested. I was also careful not to remove more than 30 percent of the canopy.

With the goal of creating a cloud-pruned form, I worked slowly, looking for natural spaces where the canopy could be opened. I first removed dead wood and the small interior shoots that cluttered the branches and trunk. 

From there, I selectively created larger gaps between the "clouds" to improve light penetration into the center of the tree while revealing more of the trunk and branch structure.

I recognize that this approach will add another task to my annual pruning routine, but I believe the refined structure will enhance both the tree and the overall composition of the garden.

Hopefully, I didn't over-prune. The finished result is very close to what I had envisioned.

While working on the First Flame Maple, I also realized that the adjacent Flame Grass (Miscanthus sinensis 'Purpurascens') was simply the wrong plant in the wrong place. It had matured beyond its intended space and was already affecting the maple's growth along its east side. In addition, it was blocking the view of the other plantings when viewing the garden from the East gate of the Zen  Garden.

As a result, I plan to remove it and replace it with Panicum virgatum 'Ruby Ribbons', a grass that once occupied this area (see 2022 image at the top) and provided a richer splash of deep red throughout the growing season while remaining in better proportion to the surrounding plantings.

In the meantime, the First Flame Maple looks wonderful, I'm excited to watch next year's spring transformation of colors, one of the qualities that first drew me to this exceptional tree.

Post Production

After completing most of the front yard landscaping projects, it was finally time to add another long-planned feature: a Campania International Sapporo Lantern.

I first came across this lantern last year while browsing online. At $834.99, it was more than I was willing to spend. I searched for local retailers in hopes of avoiding shipping costs, but I had no luck finding one nearby.

As I planned the new front walkway, I knew I wanted to incorporate this lantern—or something similar—into the tight curve near the front steps. In fact, its intended location helped inspire the walkway's curving design. 

After months of admiring and thinking about the lantern, I finally decided to make the purchase. Fortunately, a major Fourth of July sale brought the price down to just $700, including shipping, making it much easier to justify.

The lantern is a substantial piece, constructed of cast stone with a stained travertine finish. It arrives in four separate pieces with a combined weight of 207 pounds.

I was immediately drawn to its design. Although the "Sapporo" name is not based on a traditional Japanese lantern style of that name, I have seen lanterns with a similar form in Japanese gardens. What appealed to me most was its Arts and Crafts influence, which complements the architecture of our traditional brick Cape Cod home. The warm color also blends well with the tones of the new walkway and the brown decking of the recently built front porch.

While the front yard gardens are not technically part of the larger Asian-inspired gardens found elsewhere on the property, I wanted the front landscape to echo some of the same design elements. The lantern helps visually connect the front porch plantings with the newly established entryway to the Middle Gate, serving as an attractive focal point and creating a subtle transition between the different garden spaces.

Installing the lantern was surprisingly straightforward. I began by removing an existing fountain grass and excavating the area for an 8-inch-deep gravel base. After compacting the gravel, I used paver sand to create a perfectly level surface. Once the base was prepared, the four lantern sections were carefully stacked and aligned. Finally, I added a narrow ring of red gravel around the base to improve drainage and prevent mulch and soil from freezing against the cast stone during the winter months.

Overall, I couldn't be happier with how it turned out. I plan to plant a low-growing ground cover around the base to soften the transition into the surrounding bed, but even as it stands now, the lantern provides exactly the focal point I had envisioned for the front garden.

Spring Through the Garden

The following photographs capture some of the fleeting moments that made this spring such a remarkable season in the garden. Some showcase vibrant blossoms at their peak, while others reveal the subtle beauty of fresh foliage, morning light, and tender new growth. Together, they tell the story of a garden awakening and beginning another year of growth.

I hope these photographs inspire you to slow down, step outside, and appreciate the beauty that surrounds us. Whether your garden spans several acres or consists of a few pots on a patio, spring offers the same promise: every new beginning starts with a single bud, and every garden rewards those who patiently nurture it.

Getting the Blues

The Reblooming Mountain Hydrangeas along the stroll garden have grown considerably since they were planted here in May 2025.

I have been trying to lower the soil pH to 5.5 or below by applying aluminum sulfate and sulfur. Although the blooms are attractive, they are not nearly as blue as they were when the shrubs were first planted. Achieving that rich blue color will likely require another season of soil amendments and patience.

I've also noticed that the plants have produced fewer flowers this year, so I'll need to reconsider my pruning schedule after the blooms have faded. I may have been pruning at the wrong time and inadvertently removing next season's flower buds.

Even so, I'm very pleased with their growth. They are now large enough to conceal the exposed concrete block foundation of the garage, which makes a tremendous difference in the appearance of the stroll garden.

Overall, this bed within the stroll garden has matured nicely and looks much more attractive than it did just a year ago.

Shuffling Shrubs

I finally decided where to relocate the damaged Pink Azalea (Azalea 'Blaauw's Pink'), which I planted last May near the back gate of the vegetable garden.

It had been severely browsed by deer, forcing me to dig it up and keep it in a bucket until I could find a new home for it.

Unfortunately, the garden suffered another setback when the Golden Dwarf Hinoki Cypress (Chamaecyparis obtusa 'Nana Lutea'), which I also planted last May, did not survive the winter. 

By spring, it was approximately 95% dead, most likely due to winter cold or insufficient moisture. It was disappointing, as I had hoped it would become a beautiful addition to the garden.

Its untimely demise left a significant empty space in the bed along the back of the garage—the Guanyin Bed. The azalea fits this location perfectly, but I have growing concerns about the bed as a whole. 

The nearby Crimson Pygmy Barberry (Berberis thunbergii var. atropurpurea 'Crimson Pygmy') and Summer Crush Hydrangea (Hydrangea macrophylla 'Bailmacfive') are not receiving enough sunlight to perform their best. As a result, I plan to redesign the entire bed next year. I also want to remove the old cedar 4×4 landscape timbers that have bordered the bed for nearly 20 years.

That project will have to wait until next season, so for now the azalea will be relocated to this vacant spot. It has already demonstrated remarkable resilience by recovering from the deer damage. While it was growing in the bucket, it also benefited from a bright, sunny location. Planting it behind the garage may allow it to establish well, although the reduced sunlight could limit flowering next season. Even so, I have no better location available in the garden, so this will be its temporary home. 

We'll let it settle in and see how it performs.

Hosta Haircut

The Dragon's Spine bed, which is planted primarily with hosta, has been thriving this spring. 

Back in 2024, I reimagined the bed as a dedicated hosta garden, planting at least 23 different hosta throughout the space.

The plan was simple: let them grow naturally and see how the bed evolved.

2024

By 2025, the results exceeded my expectations. The bed looked fantastic and required very little maintenance beyond routine care.

2025

This year, however, the first signs of overcrowding have begun to appear.

While not every hosta has expanded, most have grown enough that neighboring plants are beginning to overlap. As the leaves compete for space, some plants are no longer displaying their best form, and a few have started to suffer from reduced airflow and crowding.

The long-term solution will come this fall. Many of the hosta will need to be divided, with half of each clump replanted in the bed and the remaining divisions potted into buckets. That should restore adequate spacing, provide another couple of years of relatively low maintenance, and—perhaps best of all—leave me with plenty of bucketed hosta for other projects.

For now, I opted for a temporary fix by selectively pruning some of the overlapping leaves.

Post Prune

Post Prune

The light thinning has opened up the bed considerably. It still looks lush and full, but the plants now have a little more room to breathe, and the overall appearance is noticeably improved.

I also took this opportunity to prune back the Dwarf Maple at the center of the bed.

Doing so provided additional space for hosta leaves and sunlight to access the underside of the tree.