STRING GARDENING... definitely not Grandma Slovak’s twine-tied beans and tomatoes

Like my Italian “Mamma Tony” (see archived blog), my Slovak grandmother (Katrina Slezak) brought her love of gardening to America when the family emigrated in 1924. In her native Bratislava, Czechoslovakia,  Katrina and her family participated in the country’s allotment garden program, through which the government distributed parcels of land to individuals to grow flowers and vegetables in the outskirt regions of their city. Aside from the pure joy of working the plots, allotment gardening provided food for these peasant people, particularly during the lean days of World War I when a teen-aged Katrina and her fellow Slovaks endured a food shortage.

Katrina Slezak

Interestingly, allotment gardening (which is still popular in the Czech Republic and other parts of Europe, but more as a hobby than out of necessity), is similar to the popular raised-bed gardening that many of us enjoy today. Think small wooden boxes (hand-crafted or purchased at a garden shop or big box store), filled with rich soil and planted with tomatoes, lettuce,  onions, herbs. . . whatever you prefer.

While raised beds and patio pot gardening are trendy today, I have decades-old, memories of similar garden plots in the modest backyard of Katrina and my grandfather Ferdinand’s even more modest, two-bedroom home. Like my Italian relatives, my Slovak grandparents turned nearly their entire backyard into a lush garden overflowing with vegetables and herbs of all sorts and a few flowers just for fun. The Slezaks, however,  separated their vegetable plots with strips of wood (I’m thinking maybe railroad ties) — most likely inspired by the allotment plots of their native homeland.

Rising up from these garden sections were tee-pee-like stick structures upon which my grandparents would encourage bean plants to climb, with the help of string. String, in fact, played a huge role in my grandparents’ gardening. Long before the fancy tomato cages and artsy containers that many of today’s gardeners sport, my grandparents were content with their large balls of twine which helped their plants grow tall, stretching toward the sun. The string certainly served them well —as did strips of cloth torn, tied and blowing in the wind to deter birds and other critters. 

I’m not sure that these measures really kept the critters at bay. They certainly didn’t keep me, my brother and my cousins away. As youngsters, we looked forward to roaming through this maze-like little wonderland every summer — chasing each other and hiding under (what appeared to be to us little ones) huge tomato plants and attempting (to my grandparents’ chagrin) to climb the not-so-sturdy string bean stick structures. I’m not sure what they were uttering as they rapidly spoke Slovak when they were not pleased. Suffice it to say, however, that we got the point. Chastisement aside, to us 1950s-era children from families of modest means (who were lucky to get one amusement park trip per season), Grandma and Grandpa Slezak’s bountiful garden was like Mother Nature’s fun house. 

String gardening 21^st century style

With these nostalic images of my grandparents firmly planted in my “down memory lane” inbox, I was thrown for the proverbial loop when I visited the Loveland Greenhouse recently in response to a mention of “string gardening.” Thinking I would learn something new about stringing up my veggie plants this season, I was surprised to, indeed, learn something new— but not about stringing string beans.

The ladies of the Loveland Greenhouse explained that they had been captivated by a string garden display earlier this year at the Philadelphia Flower Show. And so was I when I saw their delightfully kooky plantings suspended from the ceiling. I just had to try this trick in the privacy of my own home; but I was rather intimated. These things just look like way too much work. Turns out, I was wrong.  But more about that later.

Modern String Gardening

First, I needed to know where and how these mesmerizing little pot-less masterpieces came into being. According to www.designsponge.com,  Fedor van der Valk, a Dutch artist/botanist/crotchet enthusiast (yes, you read that crochet reference correctly), is credited with popularizing a process that has its roots (sorry about that pun) in the Japanese art of kokedama — a green moss-covered type of bonsai. It is reported that the idea originated from nearai, a popular bonsai style during the Edo era in Japan (roughly 1600-1800). In the nearai tradition, the bonsai is first cultivated in a pot and then allowed to grow so firmly and tightly that the root and soil will maintain its shape when taken out of the container.

Moving into the 21^st century, Fedor’s pot-less creations are suspended in midair and supported by nothing more than a series of strings tightly wrapped, cocoon style, around a “root ball.” With the guidance of the always enthusiastic Loveland Greenhouse gals, I learned that a lovely little work of art-on-string can be created with minimal effort. Here’s how. . .

Create your own string masterpiece

First off, you’ll need the following:

A tiny plant, preferably a shade-loving variety, as moss doesn’t like direct sunlight. As always, the Loveland Greenhouse staff can make excellent recommendations.

• An approximate 7:3 ratio of peat moss and akedama (or bonsai soil).
• Dry sphagnum moss.
• Scissors.
• Cotton thread.
• Sturdy packing string (such as twine or hemp).
• Live moss.
• Water.

I suppose I should list gardening gloves, as this project will be messy; but truth be told, I rarely wear them. Now for the process:

• Remove as much of the soil as possible from your plant so that its roots are exposed.
• Mix your peat and akedema soil together until the consistency is such that your can form a small ball without it breaking apart.
• Shape your sil into a small, orange-sized ball. For me this is like rolling meatballs. Use water as needed, making sure that the ball is large enough to support the roots of your plant.
• Take a handful of dry sphagnum moss and wrap it around the roots of your plant; then tie the cotton string around it several times.
• Make a small hole in your soil ball, gently press the wrapped plant inside and to continue to shape the ball so that the hole is covered.
• Take small sheets of moss and firmly press them into the soil until the entire ball is covered.
• Wrap twine around the ball in criss-cross fashion as if you’re wrapping a gift. Leave the sides as long as desired for suspension.
• Prepare a bucket with enough water to cover the green moss ball (but not the plant) and soak the ball for about ten minutes.
• Choose a nice, shady place, install a hook and proudly hang your precious little work of art.
• To keep your masterpiece lovely and healthy, simply mist spray every morning. It’s a cheerful way to start the day.

Check out the tutorials

If you are as captivated as I am with string gardening, be sure to check out www.stringgardening.com, www.casasugar.com ,Youtube  and other sites you might stumble upon while googling for imaginative photos and helpful tutorials. And if and when you’re ready to try your hand at this most magical method of connecting with nature, head on over to the Loveland Greenhouse for more inspiration, information and assistance.

Reflecting back on the artistry that Ferdinand and Katrina showed in the methodical arrangement of their plant plots and the lovely design of their vegetable, herb and floral plantings, they’d probably love experimenting with string gardening. Wish they were here to do so. If they were, I’d ask my grandpa to put Grandma Slovak (who never learned to drive) into his old green Studebaker, pick me up and head over to Loveland Greenhouse where we could create some lovely little works of string art together — without the beans.

Meet Mama Tony... seeds saved her life

The summer of 1918 was a sad one in the tiny village of Bisaccia, Italy.  Like many of the residents of this peasant community near Naples, 36-year-old Isabella Piccolella  Gervasio was caring for family and friends suffering from the global pandemic of influenza.  Isabella had even helped bury loved ones (this, after losing  her two little girls, ages 3 and 4, to meningitis just a few years before). So far, she and her 4-year-old daughter, Carmella, had survived. Isabella’s husband, Antonio, was off (who new where?) fighting with the Italian Army in World War I.

One hot afternoon, Isabella herself was feeling feverish — not to mention emotionally overwhelmed at the death cloud that hung over her village. Rather than take to her bed and give in to her fatigue and frustration, she turned to the therapy that had sustained her through many challenges — quiet time with nature. After asking the nuns of the village to look after Carmella, this strong young woman wrapped some seeds in a handkerchief and started on the mile-long walk to the family garden plot. On the way, she passed an older gentleman sitting in the village square.

“Where are you going, Isabella?” he asked.

“Out to plant some seeds,” she responded.

“Aaahhh,” the wise old man predicted. “Plant them if you will; but you won’t live to see them bloom.”

Isabella died in 1981 at age 99. 

Mama Tony - Isabella Piccolella Gervasio

I know Isabella’s story well. She was “Mamma Tony” to me, my grandmother and my role model — on all things gardening and on many things about life and living. (In the old Italian custom, a grandmother was called Mamma followed, out of respect, by her husband’s name — in this case, Antonio or Tony.)

In Tomorrow’s Blooms, you’ll learn more about Mamma Tony, my Slovak grandmother Katerina Slezak, my father Victor and other family members and friends whose green thumbs have inspired me since I was a youngster. And, hopefully, you’ll find practical and inspirational gardening ideas from the creative staffers of Loveland Greenhouse, known regionally and beyond for their engaging (often unpredictable) creativity. I mean, who plants a grand piano with moss? But I digress. . .

A flowering smorgasbord

When Mamma Tony came to America in 1930, my mother (Annina Maria Gervasio) was 9-years-old. The Gervasio family rented a salt-box house on Woodlawn Avenue in Middletown, Ohio. Eventually, they were able to purchase it; and Mamma Tony lived there until her passing. The unusual depth of the homestead begged for a long row of flowering perennials and annuals along the fence. How deliciously fragrant were the climbing roses, lilacs, daisies, lilies of the valley and Mamma Tony’s prized St. Anthony lilies (to mention just a few).

One of my earliest memories of gardening was planting a handful of morning glory seeds along the fence, with Mamma Tony’s help, of course. Even though that was 60-plus years ago, I can still recall the thrill of seeing my first blue flower. I was a gardener at age 4!

That large flower bed (the small sibling of the huge vegetable garden that covered most of the backyard) was like a botanical smorgasbord for me, my brother, cousins and friends. Unlike some grouchy grannies who cringed if any kid got near her garden, Mamma Mia encouraged us to cut a flower or two to “taka to your mamma” (or to simply enjoy, even if it was a momentary pleasure to kids with short attention spans). If my brother grew bored with a daisy after a minute or three, Mamma Mia would laughingly pick it up off the ground and put it in a Mason Jar vase — if I didn’t retrieve it first. I never throw a bloom away, even to this day. 

Botanical bar

Loveland Greenhouse evokes fond memories of my gardening family and experiences. Particularly during this season of the Earth’s rebirth, the colors, textures, fragrances and overall beauty of Mother Nature’s seedlings-turned-blossoms are mood-boosters that you just can’t find in a pill, tonic, book, movie or glass of wine (although I’ve been known to combine the latter with my love of gardening; but I digress. . .)

The creativity of Loveland Greenhouse is what really speaks to my soul. Its latest attraction, a Botanical Bar, is a prime example. Gardening Do-It-Yourselfers are encouraged to “belly up the bar” and create a living work of art, with the assistance of the Greenhouse pros. The Bar’s terrariums are particularly lovely — and easy to create. In fact, I frequently create/purchase hostess gifts at the Bar.

Sometimes, I just drop by to breathe in the beauty of the season. Like I said, it’s a “feel-good” experience that no pharmaceutical can match. And I think that has something to do with the memories of Mamma Tony that my mini-retreats with Mother Nature evoke.

Terrariums 21st century style

Remember when those terrariums of the 1970s were all about creating small eco-systems in giant brandy snifters, plastic globes and/or (gasp!) hanging from macramé hangers? Those kooky versions are so old-school. Today’s terrariums are artsy, kicky and eye-popping. Just head for the Loveland Greenhouse Botanical Bar and feed your inner-eco-gardener.

It's easy to create your own terrarium.

Choose from a variety of interesting containers available or take your own. Think “repurpose.” How about a tiny terrarium for your children or grandchildren in an old-fashioned Mason Jar? Or in your grandma’s old glass perculator (if your lucky enough to have it, as I do my Mamma Tony’s). For a more sophisticated theme, consider a wine decanter or glass bubble hanging from a ceiling.  The possibilities are limited only by your imagination.

The best part about these living works of art? They provide indoor plants with minimal care. 

So love Mother Nature. Love your plants. Love your life-giving  gardening projects. That’s easy to do at Loveland Greenhouse. Mamma Tony would have loved this place.

— Rose Huber