Hunting and gathering in Singapore

 

Despite the name of my blog, I have to admit my gardening is down to a minimal level - I water my pots when I remember and hope that the monsoon-like downpours take care of the rest. The other day, I sprinkled some organic slow-release fertilizer into all of them, and felt so virtuous that I treated myself to a glass of white afterwards.

 

A wonderful pair of old gatepost elephants - Charlie, the owner of "Junkie's Corner" didn't want to sell them to me as he said they are broken, but I might have to talk to him again - they look so gentle and thoughtful with their lifted trunks.

 

I've never been a great container gardener besides one huge potted lemon tree that I grew and carefully nurtured while in Sweden - the seeds came from a couple of lemons that I took with me from my tree in Albert Park in Melbourne (I still miss picking fresh lemons daily from the extremely prolific tree, it was such a treat). Otherwise, I enjoy more growing things in ground and seeing how they develop (hopefully) while the time flows by, but this does not mean that I don't appreciate a nice, preferably big pot or other garden ornament when I see it.

 

Up left, more gatepost decorations: a selection of foo lions that I've written about earlier. And under them, large water jars with dragon decorations - I bought a similar, large antique one for a while ago and just love it. And the roadside was full of dragon pots planted with various plants - pots planted with mandarins and kumquats were typical during the Chinese New Year celebrations, which I've also written about earlier.

 

A couple of days ago, I went along a tour guided by Singapore's national treasure Geraldene Lowe where she took us to several hard-to-find and off-the-beaten-track antique and junk stores - exactly the kind of places I enjoy, where things are dusty and dirty, and where you need to see the potential yourself instead of being fed carefully staged oriental compositions especially designed for us "expats" in mind, as so often is the case in Singapore. Some of the ladies on the tour felt a bit overwhelmed because of the same thing - they talked about how difficult it is to see the things in their own homes when they are so dirty - but my inner hunter woke up directly, looking for treasures for a future garden somewhere. And I am lucky to have storage room for some more garden stuff (despite that I can still recall the looks I got from the moving guys in Seattle when I asked them to pack all my pots in the container and to be careful not to break any), so even if I am trying hard to keep to my minimalist mantra otherwise, this is the area where I am making an exception...

 

And - if you are the least interested in the history and architecture of Singapore, do check out the wide variety of tours that Geraldene does - her knowledge of Singapore is just incredible and she is such an enjoyable storyteller; you will never look at Singapore with the same eyes again!

A sculpture representing the "Three wise monkeys", embodying the Confucian maxim of "See no evil, Hear no evil, Speak no evil"... although not quite antique, this otherwise charming sculpture got to follow me home, and reminds me from the living room balcony of the wise principle it represents...

The shop is housed in enormous old stables with a very interesting roof structure - the carefully tiled layers keep the rain away while still letting the breeze through.

Charlie has an enormous collection of garden decorations and other elements from the 1920's and 30's  to the 60's - here, art deco containers mingle with concrete stools and bird baths in the shape of sea shells. 

Of course, some of the stuff was complete kitsch, like these "bambis" and the scary plastic "man", but Charlie told that the "bambis" were actually very rare to find today, and beautifully made in concrete and hand painted. Though tempted, they didn't follow me home this time :-), but I think they would look wonderful by a strict, architectural house...

Of course, Buddha heads are the new garden gnomes; you can't get away from them today wherever you are in the world... and so complete no-no for me, which this guy seems to know as he continues his afternoon nap while I browse past.

Two huge old, traditionally painted pots, bigger than baby baths... all to heavy to be dragged anywhere, even if they would look wonderful against the sea in my garden in Sweden. 

One more picture from the outside - and I haven't even shown any pictures from inside the stables, completely crammed with furniture and all things possible from the past decades. Lots of junk, lots of fun (and some pearls). For opening times, call Charlie on 9791 2607.

A dragon in a pottery jungle, endangered

The mouth of the dragon; this is the fire-box and it has an altar on the top. Before every firing, offerings of three kinds of living creatures -animals or seafood and wine and tea - are offered to the kiln god to ensure success.

A self-confessed pottery addict as I am, my heart jumped when I read that a two Dragon Kilns still exist in the outskirts of western Singapore. Sadly, both of them are now threatened by a huge new "tech city" nearby, so I decided to make a quick visit there, just in case. Singaporeans are quite effective at work, and that is not always positive - at least when it comes to this kind of development projects. 

Entrance to the dragon's belly... up to 5 000 items can be loaded in for a single firing.

Inside the dragon kiln; temperatures reach 1200 C when fired up, and the whole process of firing up and then cooling down the kiln takes about one week.

Salt-glazed tea cups made by local potters; salt is thrown into the warm kiln and it forms random glazing on the vessels.

Anyhow, after a serpentine ride through the dusty building site, I arrived to the Thow Kwang Pottery Jungle - Thow Kwang translating to "Pottery and Prosperity" - and jumped out from my taxi on a large field of randomly arranged pots in all imaginable sizes. The ramshackle sheds that house the huge kiln and the dusty, sprawling shop used to be surrounded by a lush jungle area complete with a potter's hut and a pond, but were now hemmed in by tall green plastic fences, with bulldozers behind razing their way through the vegetation making way for still another business development. Oh, to have a magic wand that stops this kind of madness from happening - when do  decision makers learn the value of our heritage?

The entrance - complete with a couple of Shishis - to the shop and pottery making area, giving a taste for things to come.

Now, this is my kind of a display shelf - just look at the urns and bowls bedecked with gourds, flowers and leaves. Amazing. I especially loved the urn with a lid in the lower right corner, such a soft form and color, even if it doesn't show properly in the picture.

The present owners hold pottery courses and other events in this lovely room facing the soon extinct jungle. 

An inspiring environment for making ceramics - I immediately felt like throwing a pot even if I don't know how.  

On arrival, I was greeted by the actual dragon with its mouth formed by a huge firing box facing towards the entrance. The kiln reaches a monumental 37 meters up a hill and the 'tail' of the dragon finishes off the structure towards what just recently used to be a jungle. When fired, smoke rises from the mouth and 17 stoke holes along the hill, making the kiln resemble a furious, fire-spitting dragon.

Inside the huge, sprawling shop - even chairman Mao rises his hand for a greeting in front of the variety of ceramics on offer.

A selection of gods and holy men - in all imaginable styles and colors. Just pick your favorite!

Ginger jars, garden stools and everything between... Those large blue and white, handpainted ceramic tiles hanging from the roof are in huge risk of decorating my bathroom, sometime & somewhere.

Dragon kilns originated in Chine some three millenniums ago and the technique of building and using them was bought to Singapore by Chinese immigrants in the early 1900s. There used to be ten of them on the island, all producing pots and other household items. Another important product was latex collecting cups for the rubber industry that was economically very important for the area. Demand for these items dried up in the 1970s and 80s when rubber was replaced by plastic and cheaper household imports from China flooded the market, so most of the kilns closed down. Only two remain, Thow Kwang and Guat Huan, and both are now used by local clay artists, but even they get fired quite seldom as the firing process is very long and labor intensive. Also, it takes time to accumulate enough works to make it worth the process - over 5 000 items can be fitted in the dragons belly at one single firing.

A quiet altar behind the shop, facing the jungle...

... with a jovial Buddha and a fellow wise man, both seemingly unaware of their uncertain future.

Pots and more pots, decomposing behind the shop and kiln; I forgot to ask what these vessels were, maybe latex cups from the past?

Today, Thow Kwang Pottery Jungle is still owned by the Tan family who originally built the kiln in the 1940s. Pottery and ceramics sold in the shop comes mainly from China - some new, some machine made, some hand painted, some antique - in a great variety of styles. I had planned to spend only an hour here, but ended up strolling the shady, labyrinthine pathways of the shop for almost three, finding new things to attract my attention behind every turn. This is definitely no place for strictly minimalistic types, but certainly a feast for those who enjoy the diversity of the Chinese aesthetics - a lush, visual jungle indeed. My only wish is that the local authorities wake up before it is too late, and that the dragon will be left alive together with its sibling nearby.

A plate from the selection of antiques - with a wonderfully whimsical pattern of ruffled little birds sitting by a cherry tree.

Stone, water and penjing at the Lian Shan Shuang Lin Monastery

The Mahavira Hall at the Lian Shan Shuang Lin monastery, with large penjing flanking the entryway and steps to the temple.

Pretty much since we came to Singapore, I've been intrigued by a sprawling temple area that sits just a stone throw from a hectic highway, amongst a sea of tall apartment buildings. It is the home of Lian Shan Shuang Lin Monastery, Singapore's oldest Buddhist monastery .

Large, carefully trained penjing (Chinese meaning "tray scenery", a close relative to the Japanese bonsai) in huge planters carved out of single pieces of granite are displayed all over the monastery. They require enormous amounts of maintenance - a sign of reverence.

Elaborate gates lead to the different temples and inner gardens (my favorites) of the monastery.

The history of Lian Shan Shuang Lin Monastery - locals seem to call it only the Shuang Lin temple - reflects Singapore itself. It was founded by a Low Kim Pong, a devoted Buddhist, who in the 1850s left his family and poor circumstances in mainland China for Singapore and became a highly successful entrepreneur here.

The story goes that Low Kim Pong literally dreamt this monastery into being; according to the notes, one night in 1898 he "dreamt of a sacred man, radiating golden light, approaching from the West to the water front. Believing this to be an omen and with a continuing enthusiasm, they went to the waterfront and waited patiently."

Water - an integral element in Chinese gardens - is present in pots, fountains and even a large half-moon pond. I love the huge dragon jars and the little waterlilies with their leaves streaked with dark burgundy.

More water and waterlilies, this time in a huge boulder carved into a birdbath. And another huge, expressive boulder typical to Chinese gardens; unfortunately the sign was in Chinese that I do not understand (yet?).

Luckily for Low Kim Pong, a boat finally arrived at dusk carrying Venerable Xian Hui and his family of 12 Buddhist monks and nuns. After six years of pilgrimage to India, Ceylon and Burma, they were stopping over in Singapore on their way home to China. Xian Hui agreed on Low Kim Pong's vision about founding a Buddhist monastery in Singapore, and he became the first abbot in the new institution built on 50 acres of land donated by Low Kim Pong in what today forms the busy suburb of Toa Payoh.

Petrified and carved stone together with expressive tree trunks form the focal points of the contemplative inner garden rooms.

Both originating from the Fujian province in China, Low Kim Pong and Xian Hui called in craftsmen from their hometowns there as well from the nearby Guangdong province to construct and build the monastery. The result is a blend of architectural styles typical for these regions that reflects the Chinese immigrant society of Singapore at that time. In the late 1900s, it fell into severe disrepair and was even partially closed from time to time. It was only in 1991 that an extensive restoration project (sometimes a bit too enthusiastic - I would have loved to see more patina left in place...) was started, and it is still continuing on many areas of the grounds.

More stone - a symbol of stability and endurance and a integral element of Chinese gardens. On the left, two petrified tree trunks, on the lower right, stone with surface that water has carved into a distinct pattern reminding of waves.

A passageway with several penjing shaped as Chinese characters - if I only would be able to read them!

Wandering through the gates, walkways and temples of the monastery easily transfers one from the daily bustle of Singapore into another, more spiritual world. I especially loved seeing how people and monks were sitting in the inner gardens, meditating and contemplating in silence (of course, no photographing was allowed  inside the temples). I definitely need to know more of the Buddhist religion as now I felt (and of course, am) just like a tourist who appreciates the temples and their beauty solely on their aesthetic and visual values. But even if so much of their deeper meanings were lost on me, just sitting there enjoying the quiet peace of the monastery with a scent of incense wafting around, I know I still gained a lot.

Details, details, everywhere... 

Digging the DIG

This huge rusty iron sphere got on my 'would-love-to-have' list directly... such a presence.

The school is starting next Tuesday, so we got into a serious 'last days of summer vacation - let's make the most of it' frenzy... So despite having last Sunday visited DIG Nursery on Vashon Island near Seattle, which I think must be one of the most charming nurseries on this part of the country, I still haven't had time to post one single photo of it until now. 

More rusty details: repurposed steel drawers were planted with succulents and miniature conifers; you could make a low wall out of these as a divider for garden spaces.

Pots and containers of all forms and sizes; I can never get enough of well-made ceramic pots. Many of these would happily have followed me home, if my budget would only had allowed it...

I've been followed by a glaring sunshine where ever I have been this summer (which is nice from the vacation point of view, but less preferable for taking photos of any further quality), so the pictures here don't do justice to the very pleasing experience of visiting the DIG Nursery. I had heard about it from a friend for a while ago, but as getting there is a bit of a hike involving a ferry trip, I'd unfortunately postponed it to a undefined future. This is a pity, as DIG turned to be just the kind of nursery that I love, with a thoughtful and personal touch to everything on display. Their selection of grasses, succulents and other garden plants is excellent, but what I loved most was their creative displays of pots and vessels of all kinds, from new, sleek and chic to repurposed, buckled and rusty. Sometimes planted with delicate grasses and sometimes with grand conifers, the combinations filling the ground were always interesting and stylish. And even if I'm not usually fond of an overflow of decorative items, I found here quite a few temptations that I would love to see somewhere in my garden...

My youngest daughter got her doggie-fix by playing with Sophia, who was cooling down in her clever house made out of a concrete culvert and complete with a flowering sedum roof.

Cattle feed troughs were used for kitchen gardens plantings, and here a huge one was raised up as a gazebo to provide both shade and protect from rain - a clever and unusual 'farming chic' solution.

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My older daughter, tired from the sun, took fancy in this bright tangerine bench; I loved the sedum-filled rusty steel containers that were hanging on the gabion walls that act as space dividers in the nursery.   

Address and more on DIG's own beautiful website.

Rewinding to early spring at Mount Rainier

Just a couple of pictures from our recent hike on the slopes of Mount Rainier, 1,5 hours drive south of Seattle. Not very experienced hikers of this iconic mountain in Washington state, we didn't undertake any treacherous mountain climbing expedition, but a relatively easy hike to a nearby top with amazing views of the ice-covered Rainier.

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Arriving at the trail head at some 5700 feet above the sea level, we were  immediately transferred from late summer back to early spring. As the first half of this summer had been the coldest on record, snow still covered the north-facing slopes, forcing us to climb over man-high mounds while tracing the constantly disappearing trail through the forests. Despite the cold, an amazing botanical variety greeted us: glacier lilies (Erythronium grandiflorum) peeked through the snow and filled the melting meadows at sunnier glades and thrifts of the American false hellebore (Veratrum viride) pushed towards the sun at the mountain sides. At the top, tiny penstemons (pink P. davidsonii and blue P. procerus) and western pasqueflowers (Anemone occidentalis) popped up from the the gravel-covered steep ground like small, delicate jewels.

Glacier lily pushing through snow; western pasqueflower; American false hellebore.

I love alpine plants, but I've never been a great fan of man-made rock or alpine gardens. I find them too artificial, as they usually are awkwardly filled with boulders to simulate the extreme conditions that these tough but discriminating plants need to survive (I'm not talking here of rock gardens on natural cliffs - they can be simply stunning). To really appreciate the resilient beauty and hardiness of these tinies, they need to be seen amongst the rocks, snow and hard winds of the mountain sides where they originally grow. But that would deny access to them for many plant lovers, so I understand why botanical gardens around the world keep building their alpine gardens despite often being close to sea-level.

Phlox caespitosa; unidentified little bellis-like plant; Penstemon davisonii.

In private gardens, I seldom think it is a good idea to compose mini-Matterhorns or Mount Rainiers to grow alpines. Instead of engaging in that kind of "make-believe", growing them in stone troughs and planters mulched with small gravel is so much more beautiful and stylish, allowing easy access to the small plants by lifting them to the eye level (Vita's old troughs with alpines in Sissinghurst are an excellent example of this). As I love alpine plants, I decided adding a "Mount Rainier alpine collection" somewhere on my garden in Sweden as a reminder of these majestic slopes. There are great cliffs already, so just need to find  a couple of old stone troughs to be used as a focal point...

It is impossible to create better alpine displays than these found on the slopes of Mount Rainier, but I still would love to have a couple of old stone troughs with some of these gems.