Long shadows, soft light

Shaded gardens, whether created intentionally or born of a maturing landscape, induce both peace and exhilaration. They are primeval, even mysterious places -- spaces where leaf-shadows shimmy on the garden floor and the earth’s perfume rises up to soothe the visitor. We enter them to cool off, hide, think or just listen to the wind, bugs and birds.

No hot-climate garden or heat-weary gardener should be without such a spot.

Gardeners find that there are many types of shade, from half-day to dappled to deep, with conditions that extend from dry to dank. Available light can change with the season. Or it can sear through a passageway for a fleeting hour or two, then disappear for the rest of the day.

Although success rests on shrewd plant selection, most literature on shade gardening caters to folks in cooler or wetter climes with more acidic soil, lusher regions where woodland fairies or swamp creatures are more likely to roam.

Yet scads of shade lovers will prosper in our usually warm and mostly arid climate. Distinctive, dimly lighted gardens can indeed be crafted, and built to last, using a range of flora from around the corner and across the globe.

Beware of hostas! They’re fancy snail bait. Forget those astilbes. They’ll behave like expensive annuals. Don’t even try New Guinea impatiens. Those wimps will melt even before the Santa Ana winds come calling.

Think heuchera and hellebore. Remember ribes and ruscus.

Other choice plants abound, even for the trickier spots. Creeping barberry (Mahonia repens) and many other California natives are ideal ground covers for dry shade under mature trees, when the well-being of the tree is paramount.

Two Asian imports, Indian Hawthorne (Rhaphiolepis ) and star jasmine (Trachelospermum jasminoides) will tolerate seasonal changes in light and survive in mostly dim areas pelted with short periods of bright sun. Try scarlet monkey flower (Mimulus cardinalis), a perennial from the Western United States, or grassy Japanese sweet flag (Acorus gramineus) in dark spots that tend to stay wet.

Clivia miniata, a sturdy South African perennial, produces brilliant orange-red flowers in the deepest shade, with little or moderate irrigation. And we must acknowledge the indomitable Aspidistra elatior, a.k.a. cast iron plant. It will grow in a bathtub. It will grow in a closet.

Speaking of cast iron, a huddle of big-leafed sub-tropicals has proved its mettle in a design by Susanne Jett of Jettscapes Landscaping, Santa Monica. Installed six years ago, the plants were lifted after three years and stored in containers for 12 months during a remodel. Replanted into an enclosed dog-proof bed, these toughies have never exhibited a lick of trauma.

These sub-tropicals -- shaded by a lofty avocado and a Canary Island date palm (Phoenix canariensis) -- are a cantata of color and movement, animated by afternoon shadows.

Each summer, big bulbs -- spidery, white Peruvian daffodils (Hymenocallis), deep-pink crinum lilies and flashy bronze-red cannas -- take center stage. In winter, the cannas are dormant and down, exposing verdant split-leaf philodendron (Monstera deliciosa).

Two compact flowering maples (abutilon), persimmon ‘Leo’ and shrimp-pink ‘Seashell,’ guard stage left and right. Ivory-striped mountain flax (Phormium cookianum ‘Cream Delight’) and a lone reedy cape rush (Chondropetalum tectorum) flop onto their companions. Upright and apple green at the rear: Kahili ginger (Hedychium gardnerianum) and ‘Golden Goddess’ bamboo.

Keeping this clan healthy requires little more than a thick organic mulch, plus two light feedings and weekly irrigation by drip during the warm months. No swamp creatures here, but the delighted homeowner can count on legions of hummingbirds.

In the San Fernando Valley, hummers frolic in a very different low-light landscape.

When Jill Thraves bought her Studio City property 12 years ago, she envisioned the hilly bluebell-encrusted woods of her Derbyshire childhood. What she inherited was an intermittent nightmare of loose soil and unstable slopes, held unevenly by Algerian ivy, purple trailing lantana, native walnuts and toyon, and a small grove of nonnative California pepper (Schinus molle).

Erosion control was a serious issue.

Her knee-jerk reaction was to plunk in cape plumbago, cape honeysuckle and other old reliables that flourished in the neighborhood. But she adored the canyon walls that embraced her rustic home and wanted to honor the space by planting natives.

Under a series of landings with varying degrees of dappled shade, Thraves has been gradually replacing a generation of quick-and-dirty slope-huggers with deep-rooted natives. Stymied at first by a virtually nonexistent supply of native California plants at retail nurseries, she began with a single clump of Pacific Coast hybrid iris.

Then she discovered the Theodore Payne Foundation, a center for native plant information in Sun Valley, and found the support she needed and a nursery full of native plants. Impassioned, she mounded a street-side slope with California lilacs (Ceanothus ‘Yankee Point’ and C. ‘Julia Phelps’) and rosy-red and sulfur-yellow buckwheats (Eriogonum grande rubescens and E. umbellatum).

She bought more irises and sprinkled them and other perennials under the trees: island alum root (Heuchera maxima), coral bells (Heuchera hybrid), hummingbird sage (Salvia spathacea), blue-eyed grass (Sisyrinchium bellum) and sword fern (Polystichum munitum). Along a narrow path, a well-armed thicket of fuchsia-flowering gooseberry (Ribes speciosum) and the more upright golden currant (Ribes aureum) are doing very well, thank you.

Furry and pungent pitcher sage (Lepechinia fragrans) flourishes in one of the driest, darkest corners. Low mounds of coyote brush (Baccharis pilularis ‘Pigeon Point’), sprawling arms of creeping snowberry (Symphoricarpos mollis) and grass-like masses of Santa Barbara sedge (Carex barberae) are settling in where ivy once reigned. Monkey flowers are next on Thraves’ short list, especially golden-orange sticky monkey flower (Mimulus aurantiacus longiflorus), a dependable perennial that starred in late spring’s wildflower shows.

When young, these natives require weekly deep irrigation to encourage extensive hill-gripping root systems. Once established, they will survive on rainwater and monthly irrigation during the dry months. Most watering is by hand, as needed.

Birds, reptiles and other California creatures find food and safety in Thraves’ nascent wonderland. Two laid-back canines snooze alongside a menagerie of sculpted beasts -- crocodile, wolf and hippo. And there’s more.

“You can never have too many wind chimes or water features,” Thraves says.

For seven years, landscape designer Stephanie Wilson Blanc has surmounted a series of challenges in the numerous shaded rooms of the Meyer garden in the Palisades Highlands. A planter near the entrance holds cuphea, bulbine, red-leafed crinum and a fine cycad (Zamia furfuracea) with tongue-shaped leaflets of green velvet.

Heading left, a seductive walled walkway beckons. Overhanging trees provide significant cover. Liriope ‘Silver Dragon’ and dwarf and medium-sized mondo grass erupt in and around the pavers. A cluster of rare yellow clivia punctuates the view.

Right of the walkway, a high gate with a tiara of star jasmine leads to a white garden, enclosed on three sides. There, dappled shade, weekly irrigation and a thick mulch support variegated shrubs.

To the designer’s delight, westringia ‘Wynyabbie Gem,’ a wispy Australian shrub, has done better than expected. Camellia sasanqua ‘Appleblossom’ and Cocculus laurifolius have mounted the white plaster house walls.

At the undeveloped edges of the Meyer property, Wilson Blanc used more natives to enhance the existing native landscape, which includes dudleyas, ferns, ceanothus, oaks and toyon. For erosion control on a hillside, she added Catalina perfume (Ribes viburnifolium), cream bush (Holodiscus discolor), island alum root (Heuchera maxima), Pacific wax myrtle (Myrica californica) and monkey flowers (Mimulus).

In a far corner, across a channel and behind a stone-lined catch basin, camouflaged by lemonade berry, exists an amazing niche: a magical hideaway nourished by an intermittent stream, walled by boulders and encircled by native chaparral.

Less is more. To this spare and serene spot, where succulent live-forevers and summer-dormant ferns hold fast to the rock, Wilson Blanc added only a cluster of Western sycamore (Platanus racemosa), a smattering of chalky-white Dudleya hassei, one white-flowering currant (Ribes indecorum), a single deer grass (Muhlenbergia rigens) a low clump of wild ginger (Asarum caudatum) and a patch of the little mint called yerba buena. Surely, California fairies and many other good spirits gather in this shade garden.

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Getting started

There are many variables to weigh when it comes to gardening on the shady side. Available light, which changes with the seasons, is a key factor. Here’s a short primer.

* Visit local botanical gardens for ideas on low-light gardens.

* Select appropriate plants, considering available light and moisture. Use colored and varied foliage to add sparkle and contrast.

* Space plants according to the sizes they will be when mature. They will need less trimming and have fewer problems with powdery mildew and other diseases that thrive in crowded conditions.

* Mulch deeply. A 2- to 4-inch layer of organic matter is best.

* Water according to need. Never water if the soil feels moist. Shade plantings dry out slowly and need less frequent irrigation than sunny areas.

* Fertilize lightly, if needed (some plants need none). Soft, succulent growth attracts aphids.

* Manage thrips and spider mites by hosing off foliage, or spray with horticultural oil or insecticidal soap. Thin plants to improve air circulation.

-- Lili Singer