Finding My Path

This past spring, I took a class on landscape graphics and communication; that is, about how to use drawings and words to convey designs. It was really interesting and I learned a lot, including the notion of design thinking, which pretty much means that you should fully parse the problem before you decide on a solution, because a solution often becomes obvious once you really understand the issues at hand. It seems to me that this is a crucially important idea applicable to all areas of life, not just landscape or garden design.

The final drawing I did for the class is a design for my front yard distilled down to its most essential form and most critical deciding factor; specifically, where do we walk and therefore where should I not plant?

One of the instructors thought the design would be too cluttered, that I didn’t need so many paths, whether grass or stone, traversing the space. I didn’t think he wasn’t right about this, and this past summer I proceeded to implement a portion of the design. And I’m really happy with the way it’s looking.

But even better, I have found that the paths are in exactly the right place. I placed two stone paths in the planted strip of ground between our driveway and the walkway from the sidewalk to our front door, and my foot lands on them every time, never on the plants. And as the early snow began melting the other evening, I saw with both astonishment and satisfaction that the two paths on the far side of our yard that I have not yet hemmed in with plantings were both visibly grass, not snow. That is, they melted first because that’s where we walk. And they were exactly where I’d drawn them in. I felt giddy with vindication.

Antithetical to static curb-appeal landscaping, this front yard is meant to be walked through, the gardens to be interacted with, and all the paths are integral to the experience.