A Delmarva Marvel

Imagine if Frank Gehry designed a modern art wing for a rural community cultural center. That's the best analogy I can come up with for the Piet Oudolf Meadow at the Delaware Botanic Gardens.

Oudolf is arguably the most famous living landscape designer. He’s the Dutch plantsman behind such high-profile settings as the Lurie Garden in Chicago’s Millenium Park and New York’s High Line. The High Line is considered one of the world’s most innovative experiments in urban landscape design. It’s also one of the city’s most popular tourist sites, attracting 8 million visitors annually. Beyond his commissions, as a leading figure in the influential “new perennial” movement, Oudolf’s had a profound impact on the thinking of landscape designers globally.

Despite its lofty-sounding name, the Delaware Botanic Gardens is a teeny, private, out-of-the-way, volunteer-driven, small-donor-supported civic organization in Dagsboro (pop. just shy of 900). Somehow, the team there convinced Oudolf to create a meadow for them a few years back. No idea how they pulled this off.

The outcome is brilliant, though. I visited a few days ago and I’m still in awe.

“New perennialism” represents a rejection of some longstanding commercial and residential landscaping practices, such as laying out masses of shrubs or re-filling beds each year with those familiar old annuals. The movement aims instead for a more naturalistic aesthetic, while prioritizing sustainability and restoration of biodiversity. Herbaceous perennials are typically the centerpiece. As designer Noel Kingsbury puts it, the goal is to create landscapes in a “looser, more romantic, and above all more natural style.”

I've found there is far less overlap between the landscaping and environmental spheres than I would have imagined (or hoped). But new perennialism is one promising point of intersection.

I could gaze at this composition all day.

Oudolf doesn’t use native plants exclusively, but they figure prominently in his designs. In Dagsboro, the native-to-exotic ratio is about 85/15. The underlying principles and esthetic, however, would certainly work with 100 percent natives.

Oudolf employed what he calls a “matrix design” at the Delaware meadow. Warm-season ornamental grasses such as prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepsis), sideoats grama (Bouteloua curtipendula) and little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium) make up a loose grid, or matrix. Intermingled with these are various “statement” plants -- ones with eye-catching architecture -- such as dense gayfeather (Liatris spicata) and rattlesnake master (Eryngium yuccifolium), as well as swaths of clump-forming and spreading plants like black-eyed susans (Rudbeckia species), goldenrods (Solidago species) and coneflowers (Echinacea species). He chooses plants for their ability to provide four seasons of interest.

Grasses (I think this one’s little bluestem) preparing to flower.

Tall and whimsical, snakeroot master makes a bold statement.

Goldenrod filling in among ornamental grasses and statement plants.

Despite this signature method, those who know Oudolf say he’s more artist than engineer; intuition ultimately wins out over analysis.

What struck me while strolling the garden paths is that the whole is so much greater than the sum of the individual plants. Oudolf has created a unique, living community where the evolving relationships among the plants (and wildlife) are far more interesting than the discrete species themselves.

In part for these reasons, photographs don’t do the garden justice. They can’t capture the immersive experience of being there in person. But I hope the pics I’m sharing here will at least serve as an appetizer.

The matrix approach yields a lush, layered and harmonious look that changes from week to week. Here you can see seedheads of dormant flowers alongside plants in full bloom and species that have yet to hit their seasonal stride.

An ever-so-elegant eastern tiger swallowtail communes with Liatris spicata.

They say Oudolf is more interested in the form and structure of plants than their flowers. But oh, those colors!

Spent purple coneflowers (Echinacea sanguinea) posing against a backdrop of eastern blazing star (Amsonia tabernaemontana). Seedheads and foliage are as important to the design as any blossoms.

This color combo of yellows/whites/silvers and form combo of umbels/spikes/pom-poms is <chef’s kiss>.

Rattlesnake master and onionweed (Asphodelus fistulosus). Unfortunately the onionweed is non-native. But color-coordinated buttons and stars -- what a charming pairing!

If you happen to be on or near the Delmarva peninsula this summer – or any time of year – take the detour to Dagsboro to feast your senses on the Piet Oudolf Meadow. It’s a short hop from the Bethany and Ocean City beaches, and totes worth a break from bodysurfing and funnel fries. It will help you imagine how ecological stewardship can be seamlessly combined with great beauty.

Let me know in the comments if you’ve visited an Oudolf garden at some spot on the globe. I’d love to hear your impressions!

In keeping with the idea that the power and beauty of plants lies in their interactions with each other and the wildlife they support, I’m trotting out this Jack Johnson classic:

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Resources

Piet Oudolf and Noel Kingsbury, Planting: A New Perspective, Timber Press, Portland, OR, 2013.

Piet Oudolf and Noel Kingsbury, Oudolf: Hummelo, The Monacelli Press, 2021.