Natural catastrophe to natural wonders

July 03, 2009|By Virginia A. Smith, Inquirer Staff Writer
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  • Amy Pollack sits by the pond in her Swarthmore front-yard garden, transformed when a huge beech fell in Hurricane Floyd in '99. Right, Pollack's favorite color combos, blues and purples, with orange.
  • Amy Pollack sits by the pond in her Swarthmore front-yard garden, transformed when a huge beech fell in Hurricane Floyd in '99. Right, Pollack's favorite color combos, blues and purples, with orange.
  • The front yard of the Pollacks' Swarthmore home became a blank canvas when a tree was uprooted. It had a lot more sun, and the crater left by the roots gave them the idea for a pond. Today, their naturalistic garden is fully grown with sun-loving perennials and annuals, and the pond is visited by frogs and chickadees.
  • In and around the pond, plants speak to Amy Pollack's artistic eye. We see geometric water lilies next to reedy papyrus, big-boned leopard plant alongside blue-berried grape holly.
  • Ready to bloom. Amy doesn't know plant names, doesn't care, even throws tags away. "I know every plant the way I know it."
  • Large, undulating flower beds are painted in a palette of Amy Pollack's favorites: Purple and blue, yellow and orange.

Opportunity doesn't always knock. In the case of Amy and David Pollack, it crashed in their front yard.

Almost 10 years ago, Hurricane Floyd uprooted the enormous century-old beech tree that dominated the couple's traditional front lawn in Swarthmore. Today, that same space is a naturalistic landscape of soft lines and sweeping color, with a pond that rocks in spring with the kreek-eek, kreek-eek of frisky frogs looking for hookups.

"These are not square-cut perennial beds. They're moving, flowing spaces," says Amy, a graphic designer whose husband is a pediatrician.

The transformation began with Floyd, whose wild winds catapulted the beech's root ball out of the ground and hurled the tree straight down the yard, into Ogden Avenue, like a riled-up sumo wrestler.

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It didn't hit any cars and, mercifully, it didn't fall back on the house, where the Pollacks' two children, then ages 11 and 14, played on the second floor.

The tree's wide branches did damage the neighbors' driveways and yards. And the whole business left the Pollacks' yard a muddy mess of deep gashes, including a tree-crater that was 6 feet deep, 15 feet wide, and filled with water.

"We found ourselves with truly a blank canvas," Amy says, which was both daunting and exciting.

What to do? That was the daunting part. On the exciting side, the crater gave birth to an idea. What about a pond in front of the house? (Several contractors would later demur. Ponds are private, for the backyard, they insisted.)

And the yard was now sunny, which made Amy the artist happy. She loves color, and many of a garden's most colorful plants thrive in sun.

"I'm not from the beige, white and black school," Amy says.

Nor, truth be told, was she much of a gardener. She grew up in Queens and Long Island and worked as art director for large advertising agencies in Manhattan before moving to Philadelphia.

Even now, Amy's not sure how big the family's Swarthmore property is, but when she and her husband bought it 24 years ago, real estate agents described it as "a parklike setting."

"I was used to seeing rats on my way to work and here I was, in a 'parklike setting,' " she says.

For more than a decade, Amy's had her own design firm, Twist 'n Shout, specializing in logos, invitations, brochures, and annual reports for nonprofits. No question she has design credentials - just not the garden variety.

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