No, I’m not looking for a Mildred or Louise to eat bugs and lay eggs in my garden. But I couldn’t resist buying a ticket to Austin’s 5th annual Funky Chicken Coop Tour after watching a recent Central Texas Gardener episode (below) about Dani and Gary Moss’s charming and playful garden in southwest Austin.

Located on Westview Road, the garden is a homegrown creation by the retired but hard-working owners, who clearly can create anything they set their minds to. Dani envisions projects like their whimsical Chicksville hen house, and Gary builds them. He also welds metal into flowery stair railings, arbors…

…and decorative accents placed throughout the garden, like this metal heart inscribed with Dani’s nickname. How adorable is that?

Their chicken coop is sturdily constructed of wood and wire, with a metal roof for shelter from sun and rain. A ramp leads up through a hen-sized doorway in the stone foundation…

…into the colorful hen house itself, which also offers storage space for food and other supplies. It looks more like a lucky little girl’s playhouse than a hen house, doesn’t it? A tiny chandelier even hangs from the porch ceiling.

Similarly, the English-style conservatory that Gary built for Dani is dressed up inside with two chandeliers.

In the garden, roses were in bloom—lots of red Knock Outs plus a climbing pink rose and this flaming orange-and-yellow beauty.

Gary’s metal flowers provide nonstop blooms along the fence.

As does a bottle tree set in a garden bed near another of Gary’s heart creations.

What don’t they have? There was even this metal giraffe, cheekily wearing Mardi Gras beads…

…and a banded armadillo made of scrap metal.

Everywhere you looked, there were more of the couple’s creations, as well as lush plantings of evergreens and flowering perennials.

I’m glad I had a chance to see it, along with these two docents wearing hilarious chicken hats.

Happy Easter and happy spring!

All material © 2006-2013 by Pam Penick for Digging. Unauthorized reproduction prohibited.

Day-tripping in San Antonio last weekend, my family and I made time for a stroll through the Japanese Tea Garden, located near the zoo in Brackenridge Park. Constructed in an old limestone quarry, the gardens are framed and accessed by fascinating and unusual stonework, including a pagoda-like pavilion with stacked-stone columns that rise like hoodoos from the pond below; an undulating, “dragon-back” bridge; and paths edged with toothy walls that lead up and down the garden’s cliffside terrain.

The garden is free to the public, and on this cool, early-spring Saturday it was not very crowded, although at least one wedding party was wrapping up an intimate ceremony. Entering the faux-bois gate, you may be confused by the sign that reads Chinese Tea Garden until you read the historical plaque nearby, which explains that during World War II, the Japanese-American family who’d run the tea house for nearly 20 years was evicted due to anti-Japanese public sentiment, and “Japanese” was removed from the garden’s name. At the time of the gate’s construction, the garden was known as the Chinese Tea Garden. In 1984 its original name was restored, but the gate remains as a reminder of the war-fueled paranoia of that time.

A colorful mix of native and tropical plants greets you as you enter, like this red hibiscus and purple-blooming Texas mountain laurel.

I like this wiggly line of dwarf yaupon hollies bordered by colorful marigolds.

Entering the garden you are immediately drawn to a large stone pavilion reminiscent of a Japanese pagoda. Stacked-stone pillars lead the eye up to a dazzling array of stone arches, huge timbers, and the dome-like roof, which is thatched on the exterior with palm leaves.

The pavilion overlooks several large ponds that cover much of the base of the old quarry, and a series of rock stairs lead to the lower gardens. Instead, however, we took the path that winds along the cliff at the top of the garden before descending on the far side.

Halfway around you’re treated to a spectacular view of a ribbon-like waterfall, which drops 60 feet from the top of the quarry to the ponds at the bottom. Lush vegetation on the cliff walls gives the impression of a tropical vista.

An undulating bridge spans a large, shallow pond from the base of the cliff to the lower gardens. It was too early for water lilies, but I imagine in summer their pads and flowers spread across the pond’s surface.

Bridge detail, and my patient family posing for a photo.

Along the trail, the scarred leaves of a cliff-hugging Agave lophantha reveal the impulse of park visitors to leave a record of their passing.

From the initials and date carved into the rock below, you can see it’s not a recent phenomenon.

Bamboo leans over the pond, its leaves yellowing as part of its spring leaf renewal.

Enormous koi swim lazily in the ponds at the bottom of the garden, approaching tamely in hopes of a feeding.

Palms add tropical texture to the garden.

In one section of the garden, an annual display of edibles is paired with spring-blooming Jerusalem sage.

The pavilion as seen from the lower garden—a romantic hideaway for at least one couple.

I remember visiting the Japanese Tea Garden as a senior in college way back in 1989. I was reminded to revisit thanks to Shirley’s post about the tea garden at Rock-Oak-Deer and, before that, Ivette’s reminiscences about the garden at The Germinatrix. Once you read their posts, you’ll be ready to explore the garden too.

All material © 2006-2013 by Pam Penick for Digging. Unauthorized reproduction prohibited.

I took a fire-wise landscaping class at the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center last week, and I arrived early enough for a leisurely stroll around the gardens. The sunshine and blooming Mexican plums promised spring, but a chill in the air spoke of winter. By the time I went inside, my hands were numb. Even so, I loved being able to photograph the gardens in the light of early morning. Ordinarily you can’t get in until 9 am, well after the “magic hour” for taking photos.

In the parking lot my eye was caught by a Mexican plum (Prunus mexicana) in full bloom. Its spicy-scented white blossoms were backlit so beautifully.

As were these seedheads, the light tracing each stem with glowing incandescence.

Turning toward the wooded path that leads through the parking lot, I admired this vignette of Anacacho orchid tree, yucca, and nolina, all suffused in the golden light of morning.

I always take a photo of this pairing of American agave and Mexican feathergrass. Simple yet stunning.

A weatherbeaten Texas persimmon (Diospyros texana) stands sentinel along the main walk.

Inside, the shadows lay long on the entry plaza, but the Wildflower Center’s landmark spiral tower, visible to the right, was spotlit by the rising sun.

A possumhaw holly (Ilex decidua) in full winter berry accents the base of the tower.

The architecture of the place always fascinates me. Check out the planter pocket built into the tower wall.

Another view, with wire-suspended beams acting as a pergola.

On the back side of the tower, a terraced, rocky garden of agave, opuntia, sotol, and Mexican feathergrass creates a scene of xeric beauty.

Lindheimer muhly grasses (Muhlenbergia lindheimeri), their fall blooms still held aloft, screen the cafe’s patio seating. In front, wildflowers and perennials are starting to green up at their feet.

Looking toward the Hill Country stream garden, bare trees accent a green understory of yucca and nolina.

Glancing back toward the tower again

Heading into the sunny demonstration garden, I strolled under the long grape arbor, as I always do. But on this cold morning there was no need of shade.

Looking left, I admired a magnificent Harvard agave (Agave harvardiana), framed by the limestone-and-cedar shade structure in the background.

Its Mickey Mouse ears warmed by the sun, a spineless prickly pear is all texture and shape.

A patch of Habiturf lawn is on display. Habiturf is the Wildflower Center’s own ecological lawn mix of short, slow-growing native grasses, which can be sown by seed to create a lawn that needs little water and only occasional mowing. (Click the link for more info, including the very specific installation instructions.)

I was invited to take off my shoes and walk on it barefoot, but the morning was too chilly for that.

At this time of year, you really notice the architecture of the gardens, not just the plants—like this rustic cedar gate.

Looking across the still-shadowed demonstration garden

The new Texas Arboretum—”where visitors can learn about the diversity of Texas trees”—has opened since I last visited, but I ventured only as far as the entry since I was running short on time. I’ll have to come back later in the spring. This is another Texas persimmon.

For rugged screening and fencing, you can’t go wrong with a coyote fence. So very central Texas. I like how this one is cut at different levels, becoming more welcoming, at picket-fence height, on the side you approach from.

Each cedar post (juniper, to be precise) is encircled with sturdy wire that’s attached to two cables running horizontally along the fence. Those metal pipes along part of the fence must be for extra stability.

In the kids’ Little House garden, a vine “tepee” is given a twist. Instead of bamboo poles, an upturned cedar trunk and branches provides the structure.

As I was about to enter the auditorium for my class, a staff member asked if I’d seen their visitor, and pointed up at a planter niche built high on the wall near the entry pond. I immediately knew he was referring to a great horned owl because I’d seen one raising chicks in that same spot two years ago. Sure enough, there was Mama owl, snuggled into her usual spot under a Wheeler sotol.

The employee said they thought it was the same owl, and that this is her third year to nest in that spot.

If you didn’t know she was there, you might never notice. See her up there? If you go see her in person, walk softly and carry binoculars for a better view.

All material © 2006-2013 by Pam Penick for Digging. Unauthorized reproduction prohibited.