Went with friends to the San Francisco Flower and Garden show this weekend, at the Cow Palace, that venerable blimp hangar of a space that has hosted everthing from prize winning cows to The Beatles in its time. For a few years now it has been the home of the annual garden show, an extravaganza of garden design showcases, lectures, and garden-related vendors. Unlike the last time I went, two years ago, this show was somewhat less crowded and had fewer exhibits but the few there were pretty spectacular.

We happened first upon a narrow meander of a garden site that immediately attracted attention by the shiney red Nash seemingly abandoned in a summer meadow. Closer inspection revealed a picnic hamper, a pile of old floras and garden books, and a bikini (top and bottom) sans the wearer. This retro idyll was titled “The Metropolitan Meadow.” Turns out the Nash, a 1955 mini car built by American Motors in Birmingham, England, was called the “metropolitan.” The meadow surrounding the Nash was composed mostly of grasses, sedges, and rushes – many of them California natives. A stunning Michellia crassipes from the bushy end of the meadow caught my eye immediately for it looked like a dwarf magnolia with it’s creamy chalice blossoms.

The whole show seemed to be in love with California native plants and native ecotones, from streams and meadows to succulent “seas” and deserts. The Tuscan villa still holds sway, however, over the California imagination and a suitably grand collection of giant urns and stonework filled one display. Two interesting designs used nothing more than a few sapling redwood trees and a swath of native Woodwardia ferns as would naturally be found in the redwood glen. One of them was actually just a foil for a wildly cantilevered white picket fence – as my friend Sally commented, it alluded to the infamous “Running Fence” that the artist Cristo installed across several miles of coastal hills north of San Francisco in the late 1970s. The fence literally took off from a brief earthbound section and flew over the heads of curious showgoers, flipping and twisting through the air before coming down on a nearby slope.

Still, that wasn’t the most unusual concept at this show. A cluster of airborne planters shaped like giant inverted umbrellas turned out to be constructions made of cast offs and junkyard flotsam, rebar, corrugated tin, wire, wood and burlap. This was a “poisoned” garden, consisting entirely of plants with poisonous properties. They were safely out of reach in their elevated planters. A tall column of corrugated pipe trickled water down its length at the center of a small patio furnished with a plain pine casket full of potting soil. A ramp leading from the upstairs tier of the exhibit floor led visitors past a grave marker and fence and down past the aerial plants, offering a view from the top of this slightly macabre little garden.

The shear stunning colors of “Under the Sea”, an all-succulent garden, were visual enough but there were also gleaming sea creatures inhabiting the undulating beds of “sea lettuce” and “string of pearl”. The master gardener appeared to be a cinamon skinned octopus with glowing red eyes. It wasn’t until later that I remembered this little ditty…..
I’d like to be under the sea
In an octopus’s garden in the shade
He’d let us in, knows where we’ve been
In his octopus’s garden in the shade
I’d ask my friends to come and see
In an octopus’s garden with me
I’d like to be under the sea
In an octopus’s garden in the shade
We would be warm below the storm
In our little hideaway beneath the waves
Resting our head on the sea bed
In an octopus’s garden near a cave
We would sing and dance around
because we know we can’t be found
I’d like to be under the sea
In an octopus’s garden in the shade
We would shout and swim about
The coral that lies beneath the waves
Oh what joy for every girl and boy
Knowing they’re happy and they’re safe
We would be so happy you and me
No one there to tell us what to do
I’d like to be under the sea
In an octopus’s garden with you
in an octopus’s garden with you
in an octopus’s garden with you