The Age of Value

Not low cost—just high valueI went to a presentation today sponsored by a couple of my favorite suppliers, Bamboo Pipeline and Monrovia Growers. And one of the executives, whose job it is to understand things like business cycles, described our current era as "the Age of Value": consumers obviously aren't throwing money around indiscriminately; but despite our economic woes, neither are they looking for the flat-out cheapest solution. Nope, we're still willing to spend our money — we just insist on getting best-in-class results for it.

Which made me think about why, despite our economic woes, people are still paying good money to hire good landscape designers and contractors. As I've written before, my work isn't exactly the foundation of Maslow's hierarchy, but this isn't about the hire-me-versus-do-it-yourself dilemma. This is about spending thousands of extra dollars to ensure a premium result. It's about specifying and buying Monrovia plants and FX Luminaire fixtures instead of whatever's on sale this weekend at the big-box store.

I'm not the least expensive designer out there, and definitely not the fastest. So it's understandable that I'm not the best fit for everybody. But the ones who do call me, and ultimately hire me, know what they're getting. They know I'll give them a clear vision… attention to mundane details… plans that deliver more information… plants that are perfect for their site and different from everyone else's. In a word, I'll give them value.

It's the same with contractors. I work with some of the best in the business, and quality ain't cheap. I know (because I've been in those shoes) the shock of finding out how much a seemingly simple plan actually costs. I've gasped upon learning that "just" prepping this little site is half of the client's budget. And I know that someone else could do it cheaper. Someone else can always do it cheaper. But what value gets lost? The quality of construction? The attention to detail? The level of contact and communication before, during and after the job? There's always a tradeoff. Always.

I'm grateful that my clients and I — and hey, in This Economy, anyone — has money to spend on luxuries like landscaping. I don't take it for granted, and I'm not looking to take advantage. In fact, no one I know is; not even the highest-priced contractor or landscape architect. We all take it as an honor that you would even consider entrusting us with your money. And we're going to do our damndest to reward you with some pretty high value in return.

Our Services are No Longer Needed

…sigh…

Apparently, I'm obsolete. Not as in outdated; just as in, well, redundant.

It's a shame, really, This was going to be a good career. It seemed to have everything I wanted: the chance to create beauty, inspire people, help the planet, soak in a little sun and learn a little Latin.

Sure, I wasn't going to get rich at it. But affording the mortgage by drawing pretty pictures and tromping through plant nurseries? Priceless.

Unfortunately, my secret got out: any blockhead can do what I do. You don't need a degree (never have), you don't need a license. Used to be, for the price of a stack of books you could know almost as much as the experts; now, it's even cheaper than that.

What changed?

The Internet, that's what. Now, without ever leaving the comfort of your couch, you can access primo gardening and landscape design information, from some of the best names out there:

Bettter Homes & Gardens

Sunset

HGTV

Fine Gardening

About.com

OK, so maybe that last one's a little weak. But seriously: how can I compete with Sunset, BH&G, Fine Gardening?! They wrote the book (literally) on what I do. And now, they're offering their decades of experience online, for free. How can I possibly justify charging thousands of dollars for that?

…sigh…

Although… I suppose… there is one thing they're not doing. They can tell you how to build a pergola; but they can't tell you what the ideal orientation of that pergola is for your site, or what dimensions would suit your home's architecture the best, or for that matter whether a pergola is the best choice for you in the first place. Hey, that's something, right?

And, come to think of it, while they can tell you how to find the perfect plants for your yard, they're relying on your interpretations of things like "partial" sun and "moderate" water, not to mention soil texture and fertility, microclimate, or local plant communities. I could help with that!

For that matter, they can tell you about the coolest varieties of the best species; but they can't tell you whether those varieties really are appropriate for your yard, or where to find them if not at the local nursery. Actually, I'm really good at that!

Do you know what this means? This could be good news! Not only am I really well-suited to help someone design a garden that's customized for their own unique lifestyle and their own unique site, I'm also able to hold the big-picture vision of that garden, maximize their design to their budget, and put it all down on paper so it can be installed exactly the way we envisioned it. You can't get that from a website, not even from a book! This is great!

You know, I'm feeling a lot better now. I think there might be a future for me in this business after all.

The Incredible Disappearing Designer

It's that time of the year when perfectly good landscape designers seem to vanish into thin air. Gone are the witty blog posts. Gone are the tweets. Emails languish. Voicemails vanish.

Where is everybody?!

Most likely, we're at one of three places:

Our computers and/or drafting tables

Our clients' homes

The local nursery, rockyard, or furniture store

In other words, we're in our primetime, working like mad to transform old eyesore yards into veritable Edens… "by summer."

Fortunately, the Bay Area enjoys a long summer: well into November, in fact. And if you're just beginning the design process this late in May, chances are you're going to need every week you can get. So what can you do to speed things along?

1) Know your yard. How big is it? (In square feet, please, not adverbs: "fairly big" doesn't help me nearly as much as "8000 square feet"). What's in it? (Again, bonus points for specificity: "it's really boring" is less useful than "it has an old lawn that I stopped watering 3 years ago, bordered by a 7-foot-high hedge that blocks my windows.") And what do you want it to become? (Say it with me: "Make it more interesting" doesn't help. "Evoke the Tuscan countryside" is a good start.)

2) Know your budget. I've lost count of how many times I've been asked, "how much will it cost to landscape our yard?" The short answer is, it will cost as much as you have to spend. Left to my own devices, trust me, I will design a wonderland that will break you. Your only chance of staying out of bankruptcy court is to tell me ahead of time exactly how much money you have to spend on this little adventure — no more, no less. Otherwise, the best scenario you can hope for is to waste your money paying me to design a yard you can't afford to build.

3) Know yourself. What styles do you like and dislike? How much time and money do you have to spend on maintaining your new garden? How do you want to feel in your new outdoor space? What colors, scents or sounds make you feel that way? If you see examples of things you like - whether in print, online, or in the "real" world - tear out the pages, print the screenshot, snap a photo. Build an idea file to guide yourself and your designer. Even if you don't know why you like something, collect it. The good designer can synthesize what seems like a random jumble and divine the common elements that speak to you.

When I begin working with a client, I start them off with a questionnaire that gets at all this information and then some. It still doesn't guarantee the design process will go quickly; but it does give us some specific targets to aim for so that the resulting landscape will delight your senses and inspire your soul.

And isn't that worth waiting for?

Who's Blooming Today: Romneya coulteri

One of my absolute favorite California native plants, Romneya coulteri or Matilija poppy, began throwing out its huge fried-egg blooms a couple of days ago. At 7' tall and even wider in just its second year with me, this perennial is too large for many gardens (including mine, but that hasn't deterred me). And unfortunately, it resents being transplanted, and is notoriously difficult to propagate — as a native of the fire-prone chapparal, the seeds usually won't germinate unless something like pine needles is burned on top of them. Fortunately, Romneya can be found fairly readily at nursery. Just know that if you're shopping in the fall or winter, you'll probably find just a small pot of dead sticks... the dormant plant gives no clue of just how massive it will become.

Learning from the Big Guys, Pt. 2

Some of the knowledge we lose living in urban and suburban areas is how plants naturally grow. As in, how BIG. As a result, we put big shrubs in the garden where little shrubs should go (I tend to make this mistake with Viburnum); and place trees too close to structures or crowd them together.

In this example at a Peninsula elementary school, two redwoods and one Atlas cedar have been triangulated about 8 - 12 feet on center. Now, this would make a nice grove of small ornamental trees such as cherry or crabapple. Or a compact windbreak of columnar specimens such as cottonwood or 'Fastigiata' hornbeam. But come on! These are long-lived forest giants, wanting to spread 50 feet or more. Even if they were to grow this close together in nature, they would probably be successive generations, never really competing with each other for light, water, nutrients and space.

As this trio matures, they will create a maintenance headache for the Arborist who has to keep their limbs pruned clear of each other (with probably unattractive results). Even so, they probably will struggle along together, limp into midlife, and never achieve the cool grove I bet their planters intended.

The lesson here: work with, not against, Mother Nature. She always wins.