
Leslie Rose Close
This garden doesn’t just grow. It explodes. At the start of the season it’s a study in orderliness—a neat rectangle, halved, then quartered by…
This garden doesn’t just grow. It explodes. At the start of the season it’s a study in orderliness—a neat rectangle, halved, then quartered by…
I hadn’t been to Robert Jakob and David White’s garden since it was last on the Landscape Pleasures tour in 1997. I know I had felt then that it was probably my favorite garden on the East End because it seemed so intensely personal and idiosyncratic.
The house was on fire next door when they bought it. It had little foundation, and by the following spring they’d just begun planting fruit trees on the consumed house’s lot.
Do not pause too long in admiration of the finely pruned weeping willow at the rear of the house, whose proportions are as admirable as those of the magic tree at the center of blue willow ware or, as I did, when I reviewed in mid-spring enviously taking in a huge, alluring display of purple hellebores.
The heat of summer is softened by the calm, cool soft sway of the grasses in the Seegal garden in Wainscott.
With its mature plantings and lush flower gardens, this estate on Great Plains Road blends in seamlessly with the other venerable grandes dames that beckon behind the signature hedgerows. So it’s hard to imagine that only a short time ago the three-acre property was a vacant, flat, barren lot with nary a tree or bush in sight.