Stones Rewarded For Yard Work

landscaping.gif”>The yard of Rick and Terry Stone, 1803 E. Howard St., has been named the June 2008 Yard of the Month by the Beautification Committee of the Pontiac Area Chamber of Commerce.

The Stones have resided in the house they built 14 years ago and every year has led to a little more of their landscaping touches.

While not too much of the front yard can be seen because of a privacy hedge along Illinois 116, the open areas at both ends of the curved driveway give a glimpse of the beauty within.

“While the hedge does shut off a lot of view it also has its advantages in that it cuts down a lot of traffic noise from the roadway,” said Terry Stone.

One thing that cannot be overlooked is the unique driveway paving material chosen by the Stones. The off-red gravel-looking material is named “rotten granite” and gives the large curving driveway its own special soft color very different from routine run-of-the-mill white or gray gravel.

Knock-out roses in a deep red are repeated throughout the yard along the front, back and side.

“The roses have done so well and bloomed so profusely this year. I have lots of daffodils which did not bloom that well this year and I was afraid other perennials might follow the same course,” she said. “Instead what a pleasant surprise it has been with the roses and a few others, including the purple perennial salvia.”

“I have also been a little disappointed that more perennials like black-eyed Susans and purple coneflowers are so much later this year. I’m guessing the cold and wet spring has put everything a little behind,” she said.

Rick Stone’s project this spring has been starting some maple trees from maple “helicopter” seeds that blew into the yard.

“While the seedlings look good, they are still small, it’s too early to tell how they will do once set into the landscape as trees,” she said.

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Monday, June 16th, 2008

Landscaping Stone No Comments

Who needs Paris when we have Hanoi

HANOI — “Hello, pineapple!” That’s our next-door neighbor, the woman in the straw hat with baskets of pineapples and bananas balanced on either end of a bamboo pole, calling out to me over the din of the motorbikes whizzing by the front door of the Golden Lotus Hotel.

“Pineapple? Bananas? How much you want to pay?”

Hmm … maybe some pho instead. Set up by 5:30 a.m. for the breakfast rush, our neighborhood vendor lines up blue plastic stools along the curb. It won’t be long before customers arrive for her beef noodle soup steaming in a pot on the sidewalk.

The Vissan Sai Gon bakery has fresh baguettes. A few blocks away, at Cafe Pho Co near Hoan Kiem Lake, Hanoi’s version of Seattle’s Green Lake, glasses of ca phe sua da — iced espresso with sweetened condensed milk — await.

Who needs Paris when we have Hanoi?

All we have to do is get across the street.

Think about what it would be like to walk across a highway at rush hour, and you start to get an idea of what it means to be a pedestrian in Hanoi. Take out the median and most of the traffic lights. Replace most of the cars with motorbikes, all honking their horns at the same time.

Then start walking. Don’t hesitate. Don’t stop in the middle of the street. Keep going.

Somehow, it all works.

Are cars on the way?

“Five or six years ago, all you could see in the streets were bicycles,” says Cuong Nguyen, 29, a guide for a local travel agency.

If the trend continues, Hanoi’s streets will be clogged with cars in another five or six years, just like Bangkok and Beijing.

For now, however, the back of an xe om — motorcycle taxi, or moto for short — is an efficient way of getting from one place to another quickly.

For my first ride, I chose a driver whose glasses, graying hair and mustache reminded me of my father. His Honda was old and beat-up, but his look of experience trumped a fancy bike.

We agreed on a price for the short ride back to my hotel. I hopped on, hugged his waist and off we went, honking our way around a few cars and buses, but mostly other bikes.

It was midafternoon, and traffic was light. I wouldn’t do this at rush hour, or in the rain when the streets are a sea of colored plastic ponchos, but for a short ride with a good driver, it actually felt safer than crossing a busy intersection on foot. It certainly was easier.

It was also cheap thrills. My ride cost 60 cents.

In Bangkok, we awakened to the chanting of Buddhist monks. In Kuala Lumpur, it was the Muslim call to prayer. Here in Hanoi, the sounds of business start early and go late.

Communism and capitalism blend easily. A post-Vietnam War baby boom and a fast-paced, free-market economy have combined to make Hanoi one of Asia’s best values.

An example is the Golden Lotus, where my husband, Tom, and I stayed in the Hoan Kiem Lake district on the edge of the old quarter, a maze of 36 streets laid out during medieval times, each named after the merchandise made or sold there.

At $50 a night, including breakfast, the 12-room Golden Lotus (www.goldenlotushotel.com.vn) was the best lodging value we found in three weeks of traveling through Southeast Asia. The rooms were long and narrow, with balconies fronting the street. Ours had floors of lacquered wood, a desk, wardrobe, king-size bed, modern bathroom and an Internet connection. Hanging on one wall was a knock-off Picasso, the work of one of the many Hanoi street artists who copy famous paintings and sell them for about $45 each.

Our street, Hang Trong, was lined with shops selling silks and lacquerware, but it’s also a neighborhood where locals live on the upper floors of tall, skinny houses built by the French in the 19th century.

Almost anyone can and does start a business. I stood on our balcony one morning and counted the kinds of roving shops people run from the backs of bicycles. I spotted bikes laden with teapots and kitchen utensils, plastic buckets, rattan baskets, flowers, baguettes, brooms and potted plants.

Women are adept at balancing baskets on their shoulders with bamboo poles. Some carry nothing heavier than paper funeral supplies; others haul pineapples or melons or portable kitchens for making egg sandwiches on the spot. The best eating is done squatting curbside on a plastic stool while a woman dishes out bowls of pho (noodle soup) spiked with lime, slices of chili pepper and handfuls of fresh herbs.

Sidewalks aside, there are tons of atmospheric restaurants hidden in converted 19th-century shop houses along the back streets. Two can eat well for $10-$12 with beer or fruit shakes.

At Green Tangerine, in a restored French villa at 48 Hang Be Street in the old quarter, we sampled well-prepared traditional Vietnamese dishes several notches above what was available on the street or in small cafes.

The pho with spring onions was more delicate than anything we had tasted so far. With the fans spinning overhead, the shutters open and French jazz almost drowning out the traffic noise, the Tangerine was a splurge by Hanoi standards, but like most everything here, a bargain by ours. The bill was $21 each with drinks.

For people-watching, we headed each morning and most evenings to Hoan Kiem Lake, the symbolic center of modern Hanoi, where a stroll usually calls for a snack, and vendors are at the ready with slices of chocolate bread, water, ice cream or oranges.

Cigarette sellers claim prime sidewalk real estate after dark, competing with each other by using the cartons to create towering displays. Mornings before dawn, friends get together to do tai chi, aerobic dance to boom-box music, play badminton or lift barbells at portable sidewalk gyms.

Hoan Kiem (Lake of the Restored Sword) gets its name from a legend. In the 15th century, Emperor Le Thai To supposedly handed down a magic sword to a mythical tortoise living in the lake, helping him fight off Chinese invaders.

A prime spot for picture-taking is the fifth-floor rooftop of the City View Cafe on Dinh Tien Hoang Street, a few doors from the Thang Long Puppet Theatre where puppeteers stand waste-deep in water while manipulating fire-breathing dragons with bamboo sticks.

Here 80 cents buys an iced coffee and a window table on the terrace, with a view of the lake or rush-hour traffic. Your choice.

IF YOU GO:

WHERE: The Vietnamese capital of Hanoi is in North Vietnam, about 85 miles inland from the South China Sea. Flight connections from Seattle are usually through Taipei, Taiwan or Seoul, South Korea. See www.kayak.com for schedules and prices, or check with one of the travel agencies in Seattle’s International District. Many offer discount fares.

LODGING: Golden Lotus Hotel, 32 Pho Hang Trong, Old Quarter. Phone: 011-84 928 8583, or see www.goldenlotushotel.com.vn. Rates: $40-$50 for a double with breakfast. Deluxe rooms have balconies facing the street.

CURRENCY: Everyone’s a millionaire. One U.S. dollar is worth about 16,000 Vietnamese dong. Most places accept U.S. dollars. Automated teller machines (dispensing dong) are widely available.

TRAVELER’S TIP: Bells ringing in the old quarter signal that the garbage man is making his rounds through the neighborhood.

MORE INFORMATION: See www.vietnamtourism.com . U.S. citizens need visas to enter Vietnam. Info at www.vietnamembassy-usa.org/consular(underscore)services/visa(underscore )info.

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Saturday, March 15th, 2008

Backyard Landscaping No Comments

Who needs Paris when we have Hanoi?

HANOI “Hello, pineapple!” That’s our next-door neighbor, the woman in the straw hat with baskets of pineapples and bananas balanced on either end of a bamboo pole, calling out to me over the din of the motorbikes whizzing by the front door of the Golden Lotus Hotel.

“Pineapple? Bananas? How much you want to pay?”Hmm … maybe some pho instead. Set up by 5:30 a.m. for the breakfast rush, our neighborhood vendor lines up blue plastic stools along the curb. It won’t be long before customers arrive for her beef noodle soup steaming in a pot on the sidewalk.

The Vissan Sai Gon bakery has fresh baguettes. A few blocks away, at Cafe Pho Co near Hoan Kiem Lake, Hanoi’s version of Seattle’s Green Lake, glasses of ca phe sua da iced espresso with sweetened condensed milk await.

Who needs Paris when we have Hanoi?

All we have to do is get across the street.

Think about what it would be like to walk across Highway 99 at rush hour, and you start to get an idea of what it means to be a pedestrian in Hanoi. Take out the median and most of the traffic lights. Replace most of the cars with motorbikes, all honking their horns at the same time.

Then start walking. Don’t hesitate. Don’t stop in the middle of the street. Keep going.

Somehow, it all works.

Are cars on the way?

“Five or six years ago, all you could see in the streets were bicycles,” says Cuong Nguyen, 29, a guide for a local travel agency.

If the trend continues, Hanoi’s streets will be clogged with cars in another five or six years, just like Bangkok and Beijing.

For now, however, the back of an xe om motorcycle taxi, or moto for short is an efficient way of getting from one place to another quickly.

For my first ride, I chose a driver whose glasses, graying hair and mustache reminded me of my father. His Honda was old and beat-up, but his look of experience trumped a fancy bike.

We agreed on a price for the short ride back to my hotel. I hopped on, hugged his waist and off we went, honking our way around a few cars and buses, but mostly other bikes.

It was midafternoon, and traffic was light. I wouldn’t do this at rush hour, or in the rain when the streets are a sea of colored plastic ponchos, but for a short ride with a good driver, it actually felt safer than crossing a busy intersection on foot. It certainly was easier.

It was also cheap thrills. My ride cost 60 cents.

Bicycle businesses

In Bangkok, we awakened to the chanting of Buddhist monks. In Kuala Lumpur, it was the Muslim call to prayer. Here in Hanoi, the sounds of business start early and go late.

Communism and capitalism blend easily. A post-Vietnam War baby boom and a fast-paced, free-market economy have combined to make Hanoi one of Asia’s best values.

An example is the Golden Lotus, where my husband, Tom, and I stayed in the Hoan Kiem Lake district on the edge of the old quarter, a maze of 36 streets laid out during medieval times, each named after the merchandise made or sold there.

At $50 a night, including breakfast, the 12-room Golden Lotus (www.goldenlotushotel.com.vn) was the best lodging value we found in three weeks of traveling through Southeast Asia. The rooms were long and narrow, with balconies fronting the street. Ours had floors of lacquered wood, a desk, wardrobe, king-size bed, modern bathroom and an Internet connection. Hanging on one wall was a knock-off Picasso, the work of one of the many Hanoi street artists who copy famous paintings and sell them for about $45 each.

Our street, Hang Trong, was lined with shops selling silks and lacquerware, but it’s also a neighborhood where locals live on the upper floors of tall, skinny houses built by the French in the 19th century.

Almost anyone can and does start a business. I stood on our balcony one morning and counted the kinds of roving shops people run from the backs of bicycles. I spotted bikes laden with teapots and kitchen utensils, plastic buckets, rattan baskets, flowers, baguettes, brooms and potted plants.

Women are adept at balancing baskets on their shoulders with bamboo poles. Some carry nothing heavier than paper funeral supplies; others haul pineapples or melons or portable kitchens for making egg sandwiches on the spot. The best eating is done squatting curbside on a plastic stool while a woman dishes out bowls of pho (noodle soup) spiked with lime, slices of chili pepper and handfuls of fresh herbs.

Sidewalks aside, there are tons of atmospheric restaurants hidden in converted 19th-century shop houses along the back streets. Two can eat well for $10-$12 with beer or fruit shakes.

At Green Tangerine, in a restored French villa at 48 Hang Be Street in the old quarter, we sampled well-prepared traditional Vietnamese dishes several notches above what was available on the street or in small cafes.

Tangerine time

The pho with spring onions was more delicate than anything we had tasted so far. With the fans spinning overhead, the shutters open and French jazz almost drowning out the traffic noise, the Tangerine was a splurge by Hanoi standards, but like most everything here, a bargain by ours. The bill was $21 each with drinks.

For people-watching, we headed each morning and most evenings to Hoan Kiem Lake, the symbolic center of modern Hanoi, where a stroll usually calls for a snack, and vendors are at the ready with slices of chocolate bread, water, ice cream or oranges.

Cigarette sellers claim prime sidewalk real estate after dark, competing with each other by using the cartons to create towering displays. Mornings before dawn, friends get together to do tai chi, aerobic dance to boom-box music, play badminton or lift barbells at portable sidewalk gyms.

Hoan Kiem (Lake of the Restored Sword) gets its name from a legend. In the 15th century, Emperor Le Thai To supposedly handed down a magic sword to a mythical tortoise living in the lake, helping him fight off Chinese invaders.

A prime spot for picture-taking is the fifth-floor rooftop of the City View Cafe on Dinh Tien Hoang Street, a few doors from the Thang Long Puppet Theatre where puppeteers stand waste-deep in water while manipulating fire-breathing dragons with bamboo sticks.

Here 80 cents buys an iced coffee and a window table on the terrace, with a view of the lake or rush-hour traffic. Your choice.

Carol Pucci: 206-464-3701 or %26#99;%26#112;%26#117;%26#99;%26#99;%26#105;%26#64;%26#115;%26#101;%26#97;%26#116;%26#116;%26#108;%26#101;%26#116;%26#105;%26#109;%26#101;%26#115;%26#46;%26#99;%26#111;%26#109;

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Monday, February 25th, 2008

Landscaping Rock No Comments

Puzzle Solved

What to do with a steep, trapezoid-shaped hunk of land smack in the middle of an urban neighborhood? That was the challenge facing architect Ray Johnston and his team as they surveyed the sloping property overlooking Green Lake in North Seattle.

In the end, the puzzle would be solved as “the Boulders project” %26#8212; eight stylish new townhomes surrounding a renovated old farmhouse set in a landscape as fresh as the finish on the old house.

The townhouses, three stories with gabled roofs and modern detailing, have a real street presence. Yet each also faces inward, toward a courtyard defined by 200 tons of granite boulders, rushing waterfall, native plantings and a venerable pine tree. At the heart of the project is the century-old farmhouse, which once stood in the middle of a pastoral hillside above the lake.

“Usually there’s pressure in development for the biggest profit, but in this project there was real value in a different approach,” says Johnston. He gives developer Bill Parks credit for “seeking interesting solutions,” and not squeezing every unit possible onto the property. Each of the homes, ranging between 1,700 and 2,700 square feet, has a different orientation and floor plan. “It was a puzzle both horizontally and vertically,” says Johnston of the complex layout of homes that cascade down the hillside. Saving the old farmhouse was a major piece of the puzzle. “We kept looking at that farmhouse,” says Johnston, “and thinking about it surrounded by new siblings.”

Cassady and Andrew Glass Hastings live in one of the “siblings.” They moved to Seattle from Los Angeles two years ago and looked at Boulders on a whim. “We liked it right away,” says Andrew. As a transportation adviser for the city of Seattle and a self-described “urban guy,” he was hoping to find a loft downtown. Cassady, a doctoral student at the University of Washington, wanted an older home with Craftsman quality in Fremont or Wallingford.

Creative solutions came from all sides

The Boulders project is unusual, and not just for its preservation of the property’s original home:

%26#8226; A city design review allowed developer Bill Parks to reduce the side and front yard setbacks to create a pleasing urban streetscape by nestling the townhouses right up against the sidewalk.

%26#8226; From the street, the size of the development is minimized; only when you walk through a corridor into the courtyard do you realize this is a cluster of tall homes.

%26#8226; The townhomes aren’t condominiums, but form a kind of urban density that architect Ray Johnston describes as “a cleaner form of ownership.”

%26#8226; The developer short-platted the property so each resident owns the land beneath the individual townhouse and a portion of the public area, which is covered by a shared-maintenance contract.

Both ended up happy with the style of their new home, which they’ve described as “Aspen cabin meets urban loft.” The location, a few blocks north of the lake, is central enough to walk most places or take the bus. Cassady loves the townhouse’s detailing, beamed wooden ceilings, and the master bedroom tucked beneath the eaves. Yet the vibe is contemporary enough to suit Andrew, with black metal windows and metal railings, heated concrete floors and stainless-steel appliances.

Both appreciate that their neighbors are a varied lot ranging from retirees to families with young children. “We see our neighbors often, yet this place is laid out so well we aren’t always bumping into each other,” explains Andrew.

The Hastings’ 1,800-square-foot townhouse has an entry, storage and garage on the lowest of four levels. There are two full baths and two powder rooms, one per floor, and three bedrooms. Sloping ceilings in the top-floor master bedroom give the space the snug feel of an attic, with wide windows and a skylight to let in sunshine and moonlight. The main floor has an open kitchen, dining room and living room.

Big, old rhododendrons right outside the street-side windows lend a country feel to the space despite the Dwell magazines on the coffee table. Across the room, glass doors open to a deck that overlooks the waterfall, its rush of water soothing traffic noise. “The presence of the waterfall is amazing,” says Johnston. “I think every project should have one.”

Valerie Easton is a Seattle freelance writer and author of “A Pattern Garden.” Her e-mail address is valeaston@comcast.net. Benjamin Benschneider is a Pacific Northwest magazine staff photographer.

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Thursday, December 27th, 2007

Hillside Landscaping No Comments

Puzzle Solved

What to do with a steep, trapezoid-shaped hunk of land smack in the middle of an urban neighborhood? That was the challenge facing architect Ray Johnston and his team as they surveyed the sloping property overlooking Green Lake in North Seattle.

In the end, the puzzle would be solved as “the Boulders project” %26#8212; eight stylish new townhomes surrounding a renovated old farmhouse set in a landscape as fresh as the finish on the old house.

The townhouses, three stories with gabled roofs and modern detailing, have a real street presence. Yet each also faces inward, toward a courtyard defined by 200 tons of granite boulders, rushing waterfall, native plantings and a venerable pine tree. At the heart of the project is the century-old farmhouse, which once stood in the middle of a pastoral hillside above the lake.

“Usually there’s pressure in development for the biggest profit, but in this project there was real value in a different approach,” says Johnston. He gives developer Bill Parks credit for “seeking interesting solutions,” and not squeezing every unit possible onto the property. Each of the homes, ranging between 1,700 and 2,700 square feet, has a different orientation and floor plan. “It was a puzzle both horizontally and vertically,” says Johnston of the complex layout of homes that cascade down the hillside. Saving the old farmhouse was a major piece of the puzzle. “We kept looking at that farmhouse,” says Johnston, “and thinking about it surrounded by new siblings.”

Cassady and Andrew Glass Hastings live in one of the “siblings.” They moved to Seattle from Los Angeles two years ago and looked at Boulders on a whim. “We liked it right away,” says Andrew. As a transportation adviser for the city of Seattle and a self-described “urban guy,” he was hoping to find a loft downtown. Cassady, a doctoral student at the University of Washington, wanted an older home with Craftsman quality in Fremont or Wallingford.

Creative solutions came from all sides

The Boulders project is unusual, and not just for its preservation of the property’s original home:

%26#8226; A city design review allowed developer Bill Parks to reduce the side and front yard setbacks to create a pleasing urban streetscape by nestling the townhouses right up against the sidewalk.

%26#8226; From the street, the size of the development is minimized; only when you walk through a corridor into the courtyard do you realize this is a cluster of tall homes.

%26#8226; The townhomes aren’t condominiums, but form a kind of urban density that architect Ray Johnston describes as “a cleaner form of ownership.”

%26#8226; The developer short-platted the property so each resident owns the land beneath the individual townhouse and a portion of the public area, which is covered by a shared-maintenance contract.

Both ended up happy with the style of their new home, which they’ve described as “Aspen cabin meets urban loft.” The location, a few blocks north of the lake, is central enough to walk most places or take the bus. Cassady loves the townhouse’s detailing, beamed wooden ceilings, and the master bedroom tucked beneath the eaves. Yet the vibe is contemporary enough to suit Andrew, with black metal windows and metal railings, heated concrete floors and stainless-steel appliances.

Both appreciate that their neighbors are a varied lot ranging from retirees to families with young children. “We see our neighbors often, yet this place is laid out so well we aren’t always bumping into each other,” explains Andrew.

The Hastings’ 1,800-square-foot townhouse has an entry, storage and garage on the lowest of four levels. There are two full baths and two powder rooms, one per floor, and three bedrooms. Sloping ceilings in the top-floor master bedroom give the space the snug feel of an attic, with wide windows and a skylight to let in sunshine and moonlight. The main floor has an open kitchen, dining room and living room.

Big, old rhododendrons right outside the street-side windows lend a country feel to the space despite the Dwell magazines on the coffee table. Across the room, glass doors open to a deck that overlooks the waterfall, its rush of water soothing traffic noise. “The presence of the waterfall is amazing,” says Johnston. “I think every project should have one.”

Valerie Easton is a Seattle freelance writer and author of “A Pattern Garden.” Her e-mail address is valeaston@comcast.net. Benjamin Benschneider is a Pacific Northwest magazine staff photographer.

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0

Sunday, December 16th, 2007

Hillside Landscaping No Comments


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