Focal Point

Do you have a favorite view of your home? A secret scene that comforts you, your personal focal point. For some it may be the vista you encounter pulling in the drive, or the first glimpse of home as you turn onto your street, or look towards your front door. We each have our own.

The photo above is mine. It's the view of the veranda (can we have piazza's in Mayberry?) taken while standing between the pool house and an overgrown boxwood.

When we moved in, the house had been unoccupied for several years, and had several misadventures in the years before that. The grounds were neglected, in the midst of a drought, unloved and uncared for. My joy is the magnolia. Near death when we arrived now it's happy and thriving, albeit badly pruned.

Magnolia seeds taken 2 winters ago are now sprouting, protected from deer, and awaiting replanting in their new home. Under the magnolia, along the house on both sides of the porch are deep red azaleas. All I need now to complete my "Southern" garden is a bit of Confederate (star) Jasmine. It's unavailable here, can anyone recommend a source?

Looking south from the porch, you see this.

The box hedge (Wintergreen) was inspired by 2 issues of House and Garden, December 2002, and April 2005, and planted from cuttings taken from friend's gardens. There was nothing there when we moved in, just a large slab of white, the ass end of the pool house.

From here it looks a mess, but that is only because I could never figure out if box should be trimmed at one height so all the branches grow together or to pinch each branch when it reaches the desired height and wait for the stragglers to catch up. It seemed a coin toss, so I chose the latter. Also, the ground falls over a foot from right to left, and I failed to take that into account while planting. With 75 running feet of boxwood hedge I've since come to curse the author of "All you need to know about Boxwood", although it's still a tremendous reference.

The neatly trimmed back side offers hope for the future.


Toad

Dominique? The last word.

Long time readers know that I was for a time somewhat besotted with Ms. Dominique Browning, formerly Editor of House and Garden Magazine's U.S. edition. On these pages I have promised to read telephone books if only she would write them. All to no avail.

In the mean time I have developed a trick, which may help some of you pass the lonely months without your favorite magazine. I'll share.

Each month, around the time the mail is deluged with incoming magazines, I go to my stash of old H&G's, gently retrieve a then current month's issue and respectfully insert the prior month into its protective plastic sleeve. Since my memory is not so great, what do I care if I am currently reading April 2001? It's all new to me. Next month might be May 2005. What do I care?

That said, I was surprised to get an email from Ms. Browning's people. In its entirety it said, "Toad, enuf already with your attacks on Ms. Browning. Go bother Julia Reed. Get over it. Any more and I'll sic our other people on you."

Harsh words, I thought, but I wouldn't let it go.

I wrote back, in my own inimitable way. "D, waz up?"

The Queen herself wrote back.

" God, I'm so glad that magazine thing is over. Me, an attractive single woman, in the prime of my life, surrounded by gay, yes men. I haven't seen daylight since I don't know when. Haven't seen a straight man in forever.

Since I was under contract when the magazine folded, our publisher, Mr. Newhouse graciously allowed me to become one of his personal assistants. The pay is good, but the conditions are a cross between Annie, and Cinderella. You can, for serious, pre-order my book covering the past year here, it will be released soon. Now, leave me alone!"

For those half dozen of you, who find this blog each day by Googling Dominique, this is my last word on this subject.

D? She ain't here. However, her blog may be found here.

Toad