Our American Style

The question “What is an American garden” pops up in garden conversation with some regularity, but to my knowledge, has never been answered satisfactorily. Consider the fact that most of us know what an “English garden” looks like and we know what a “Japanese Zen garden” is...but what does an “American garden” look like?

The real editorial impetus behind this issue stems mostly from frustration. Think about all the times you've heard someone say they're going to put an English garden in front of their house. Now isn't that a silly idea...an English garden in the American 'burbs? Do English folks say to their neighbors, “Cheerio, Cecil—I'm going to put a jolly nice American garden in front of my cottage”? I doubt it. So, part of the question “What is an American garden” is really “Why are Americans so obsessed with English gardens?” Not that there's anything wrong with the many lovely gardens on the other side of the Atlantic, but maybe it's time we step back and celebrate our own gardening style for a change.

Part of this horticultural low self-esteem is that we don't, nor will we ever, have Britain's fabulously moist climate, which makes its flowers bloom like crazy and their gardeners feel perhaps a little overly bold and confident. On the other hand, our culture has one great asset that few nations can rival—diversity. The ethnic fusion of American society can at times create dazzling combinations of creative thought and action. When this melting-pot concept taps into the gardening universe, we inevitably stumble upon wonderful new plants, combinations, and designs. If you think about it, the American garden isn't about patriotism—it's about eclecticism.

Look at the current tropical-plant craze. Where the ornamental garden of a decade ago featured the standard array of annuals and perennials, many of today's American gardens now mix bright coleus with giant elephant ears (Alocasia sp. or Colocasia sp.), or variegated, lime-green canna foliage with sizzling zinnia and dahlia blossoms. This year, my small suburban garden has taken on a strange mix of styles, though I admit, quite unintentionally so. There is the typical combination of perennials and annuals, but also large stones and shrubs stemming from a fondness for the Asian style, and skyscraping ravenna grass (Saccharum ravennae syn. Erianthus) that gives a nod to the native-plant movement. There are even hot-blooded caladiums and purple castor beans to add a shot of the tropics. This may seem a crazy mish-mash of style and shape, but somehow it works and further suggests a typical American solution to many things: just throw it all in the pot and stir.

As a result, there is an endless variety of American gardens. One is the underappreciated “mailbox garden.” If you look around this country, many people have decorated their mailboxes with a ground-level planting of flowers. This may seem odd, considering that the mailbox is a purely functional, even dull yard accessory, yet millions of Americans choose to festoon this postal shrine with everything from impatiens and begonias to daylilies, clematis, and more. I consider this one of America's most endearing garden eccentricities.

Another of my favorite American gardens are those I see around farmhouses in the Northeast, notably in northern Vermont where I visit each summer. Farming families often make terrific gardeners, able to create eye-popping vistas of phlox, cleome, and marigolds, along with Minivan-sized eggplant, squash, and other vegetables of ungodly dimension. Their success, I suspect, has something to do with an endless (and enviable) supply of cow and horse manure, but these farmer/gardeners also have their own special sense of style and order. They perfectly interwine beauty with functionality and that proves its own reward.

What we hope you gain from this discussion is not a definition of the term “American garden,” but a new set of parameters to help you probe this idea to greater depths. Then go take a look at your own garden—is it an eclectic American place or does it owe its allegiance to horticultural empires of the Old World? Either way is perfectly fine, of course, but if you desire to celebrate the American style, then employ a little cultural diversity in your planning. How? Just find some plants or ornaments you like, throw them in the pot...and stir. —Pete Prown