A long view of the garden, looking north through a mixed planting of pyramidal boxwoods, perennials, and annuals. Delicate spheres of society garlic echo the shapes of the garden’s topiary shrubs and add long-lasting color to the gridded parterres.
by Laura Frankstone
photographs by Catherine Nguyen
If my garden could talk, you would hear mostly French, with traces of North and South Carolina-inflected English.
The casual placement of boxwood topiaries lends a less formal tone to this traditional formal garden motif.
I lived in France for three years as a young child; the shapes and patterns of that country’s elegant formal gardens became imprinted in my heart. This was, as far as I could tell, the way things grew.
In my grandmother’s garden in Charlotte, luscious gardenias and glowing panicles of snowball bushes thrilled me to my core. Her verdant oval of lawn studded by white iron glider benches and chairs was my one constant in a childhood of frequent moves, the dislocations of a military family’s life.
An ironwork sofa, chairs, and table provide comfortable and cozy seating on the terrace.
In the border plantings, boxwood topiaries alternate with frothy annuals and perennials, such as phlox, peonies, and rose campion.
Phlox “White Flame” adds bright splashes of white to the garden’s many greens and pale pastels.
My mother-in-law’s Charleston courtyard garden was proof that formal design could live happily in an intimate setting. There grew a deft mix of herbs, flowers, and ferns, with graceful seating for conversation.
My garden’s French accent has grown stronger over the years, with many visits to France. A pilgrimage I made to Le Jardin Agapanthe in Normandy, the gardens of brilliant garden designer Alexandre Thomas, was especially transformative, showing me you can use traditional French garden motifs in free and fresh ways.
The view along the garden’s north-south axis shows a pair of custom-made iron tuteurs centering square central parterre beds. There are also furniture groupings for dining, conversation, and stargazing.
The stones chosen for the terrace and pathways were carefully selected to support the garden’s cool and tranquil color palette.
My garden tells many stories, those of an artist-gardener who plants for texture, color, and shape, more than from horticultural considerations. It tells stories of my daughter’s wedding, rehearsal parties, receptions, countless dinners, and birthday celebrations of children and grandchildren. It tells the story of 3 a.m. meteor showers, seen from two outdoor lounge chairs given to me expressly for the purpose of stargazing.
What those other gardens told me, and what my garden says, is that in order and beauty, there is comfort. Life provides enough pyrotechnics. Let our gardens give us peace, space for reverie, and delight.
