A Heart For Palms -- This Fremont Garden May Look Tropical, But Most Of Its Plants Can Take Whatever Weather Seattle Can Dish Out

ALAIN LUCIER ISN'T a contrarian, he's simply always lived where there are palms. They've become a constant in his life, a comfort, despite the occasional catcall or shout of outrage from passersby lacking the broader view.

He grew up around palms in southern France. Palms were part of the landscape when Lucier moved to the northern territories of Australia as an adolescent. And later, while living in Southern California - palms. There were palms rustling in San Francisco's breezes; likewise in Israel, where he settled for a time. Even his former home in Vancouver, B.C., was not far from palms. So, on a nasty spring day in Seattle, Lucier pours coffee and admires - what else? - the palms outside his parlor window.

A palm or two plunked outdoors at this latitude can look lonely, but in this home garden in Fremont, the 409 palms ringing the house seem settled, in their own ineffable way. They are, for the most part, integrated into a harmonious scheme.

In large measure this is because they are in decorative sync with the style of his house, a stately 1906 structure on a double lot. (Though it was built as a summer residence for a Norwegian family from Yakima, it definitely has the New Orleans look, shutters and all.)

And a good lawyer could point to birthright. The palms', that is. Palm fossils have been found in early Tertiary period material from the Chuckanut Formation, near Bellingham, as well as from rock elsewhere in the region. These fossils show clear impressions of leaves and are about 66 million years old, roughly the time the Himalayas were thinking about becoming mountains.

So, how long do you say your family has been here?

Regardless, palms are emotional catalysts. Lucier estimates that during summer months about 20 cars a week slow to a crawl on the arterial in front of his house. Quite often motorists feel obliged to make comments if he's working in the front garden.

" `Go back to California!' is a common one, though we've also had people slam on their brakes in the middle of the street and yell `Oh my God!' There have been near-collisions," Lucier says.

"The hostile observations come mostly from people who associate this with Southern California. I associate the garden with the south of France. When I think of Southern California, I think of traffic and surfing and girls, not palms. Forget the palms."

Still, Lucier hears many more positive remarks than negative, including kind words from transplanted Floridians - and Californians - delighted to see a reminder of home. Strangers often ask to look around. Sometimes amateur artists from a group home set up easels on the sidewalk across the street, paint for a while, then board a van for the ride home.

The stars in this show, meanwhile, just want to get along. There's trouble enough with the modern climate.

There are three species of palm that can take whatever the Northwest can dish out, and six species are 90 to 95 percent hardy, though not all of them do well with our lack of summer heat and weak winter sun. No tropical species are included in the list of outdoor survivors.

The main Seattle problem is moisture. High-elevation Himalayan palms, for example, aren't overly troubled by cold or even a dusting of snow. But a soggy, poorly drained environment spells death. Wind, too, can be troubling.

Lucier applies several winter strategies to keep his plants healthy. For example, with the Guadalupe palm (Brahea edulis), native to Guadalupe Island off the coast of Baja California, he protects the heart and trunk with wrapped burlap. This palm is rated hardy from zones 10A to 13, but Lucier knew it did all right in a Magnolia garden so was encouraged to keep it going in his zone 7 surroundings.

Sometimes he bends the fronds to shield the crown of a plant and ties the leaves with twine. Other palms require a plastic tarp overhead to keep drizzle from rotting out the crown.

The leaves of some palms get dark green when it turns cold and actually freeze, but are fine when they thaw. Borderline or outright tender palms he keeps in planter boxes so he can dolly them into a makeshift greenhouse for the winter months. He says he hasn't lost any palms yet due to weather. But then, he has chosen plant material carefully and paid a great deal of attention to needs.

By far the most common palms in his collection are the Mediterranean fan palm (Chamaerops humilis) and the windmill palm (Chamaerops excelsa). Both are common in the south of France and do nicely in Seattle. They have a well-deserved reputation for hardiness.

Arthur Lee Jacobson, in his book "Trees of Seattle," lists more than a dozen places to see large windmill palms, some more than 50 years old, including one 28-foot-tall example at the Ballard Locks.

These palms, like others that survive outdoors here, are extremely slow-growing because of the short growing season. Large landscape specimens can be found in Seattle neighborhoods, but they either have been in the ground a very long time or came in a shipping crate from an out-of-state grower.

The palm Lucier has had the longest arrived in a 4-inch pot in 1982; today it's about 4 feet tall.

Still, if a palm is rated hardy to 15 degrees, Lucier will give it a go. He's trying out several plants that push the temperature barrier, including the pindo palm (Butia capitata), a native of South America, and the Chilean wine palm (Jubaea chilensis). Now rare in Chile, the largest wine palm (reportedly) still survives in Kew gardens in London.

Lucier also is experimenting with Chinese fountain palms (Livistona chinensis), a Canary Island date palm (Phoenix canariensis) and the Mexican fan palm (Washingtonian robusta).

This past winter, Lucier's thermometer registered a low of 25 degrees: not bad palm weather. His neighborhood normally benefits from the moderating influence of nearby Lake Union and the Ship Canal, though his research into climate data revealed a low of 11 degrees at the locks in 1950.

Lucier's house had been a longtime rental in bad repair, so it was some time after he bought the property before he turned to the garden. He removed towering blackberry vines, overpowering conifers in front and a couple of handsome decorative trees, including a cherry that had admirers upset with him for a while.

He went through a vegetable-garden phase and a perennials period before deciding he "wanted to do something totally eccentric and give back to Seattle" by way of a palm oasis.

To this end, he removed and gave away every plant in front of the house. Some old plantings - heavenly bamboo, an aralia with a 15-foot spread, a large magnolia tree and three loquats - on the north side of the house work well with palms. As do the bamboo, hardy bananas (Musa basjoo), ginger and other commonly available plants Lucier continues to add as complements to his collection.

This is a garden in process, but it did catch the attention of judges for the 1997 Pacific Northwest Gardens contest; it ranked as one of two honorable mentions after the final tally.

When you garden instinctively, as does Lucier, you sometimes need to move plants. That gets tricky since many of his palms weigh 1,200 pounds or so. They are shallow-rooted, fortunately, so a sturdy hand truck and willing friends make transplanting even large ones possible.

What do the neighbors think now? Not universal acclaim, but close enough, apparently. There are dozens of palms planted around Lucier's neighborhood. His charges are slow-growing, don't get in the wires, are shallow-rooted, don't drop leaves, resist insect pests and can stand up to dogs.

"What more can you ask?" he wants to know. "The people who hate palms - I try to educate them, to turn it around. It's a chance for people to learn something," he says.

You see a palm, it brightens a gloomy winter. Who can argue with that?

Dean Stahl is a freelance writer and editor in Seattle. Gary Settle is picture editor of Pacific Northwest magazine. ------------------------------- Learn about palms

If you'd like to learn more about palms in the Northwest, the Pacific Northwest Palm and Exotic Plant Society is a good place to start. John Spaulding (206 285-7297) is vice president and local contact for this organization. Dues are $20 a year; members receive a quarterly magazine and access to seeds and plants. The nonprofit Seattle-area chapter, with 60 paid members, meets four to six times a year.

Spaulding, who recently returned from England, where there are legions of exotic-plant collectors, reports that seeds from a new, hardy Himalayan banana (Musella longiforma) should soon be available. ------------------------------- Gardeners Compete

If your garden is your treasure and a pleasure to behold, why not share it with judges for the Sixth Annual Pacific Northwest Gardens competition? The grand prize for best overall garden is a trip for two to London and the 1999 Chelsea Flower Show.

Included is round-trip air fare, five nights' lodging and admission to the show. Home gardeners from Bainbridge Island or King, Snohomish or Pierce counties are eligible to enter. The contest is administered by The Arboretum Foundation and the top three contestants will be announced in Pacific Northwest magazine's 1999 Northwest Flower and Garden Show issue.

Don't dawdle; deadline for entries is June 1. To enter, please call or write: The Arboretum Foundation, 2300 Arboretum Dr. E., Seattle, WA 98112; 206 726-1954.