Traditionally, the Midwestern vegetable garden was considered a three-season affair, bounded by the last spring frost and the first fall freeze. True, cool-season gardens were popular in the spring and the fall, but the idea of year-round vegetable production definitely raised eyebrows. Recently, however, proponents of season extension, such as Elliot Coleman, have increased awareness of the possibilities, and enthusiastic gardeners across the region are embracing four-season vegetable gardening.

Expand your planting space, grow a living screen, or add vertical interest to your garden beds by growing plants on a wall or training them onto an obelisk or trellis.

During the past few years, the Slow Flower movement has been generating a lot of buzz in the media. Following the success of the Slow Food movement, Debra Prinzing, author of The 50 Mile Bouquet, coined the term “Slow Flowers” in an attempt to talk about some of the reasons for supporting local flower growers as well as appreciating in-season blooms.

In the last few years there has been a new method developed called “string gardens.” The nice thing about these hanging plants is that anything goes. They come in a multitude of sizes – tiny little things wrapped in colorful fabric and tied with embroidery thread or very large specimens in burlap, hung with a chain. They can be pottery, glass containers, or as natural as a moss-wrapped root ball. These are plants that have been wrapped in a variety of materials and hung from windows, beams, or ceilings.

They can be hairy, tiny, fuzzy, striped or ghost-like. They can form rosettes of dusty slate blue, green or white edged in red, or blend in with their surroundings. These are just a few of the variations found in plants beneath the umbrella term “succulent.” They’re fairly new on the mainstream gardening scene, especially in the Midwest.

If it’s a crime to plant loads of color, then I plead guilty. Color just feels good. Or does it?

The last few years during my morning walks around my neighborhood, I began to notice that my eyes were continually seeking out green-on-green gardens, landscapes that relied on nothing for their beauty other than year-round evergreens and perhaps a lawn area and some especially bright green summer additions.

“Go big or stay at home.” It’s become one of my springtime battle cries. Like me, my garden is becoming mature, (perhaps overgrown?), with plants becoming more relaxed, settled in and, some may even say, sloppy. It cries out for some eye-catching eye candy, something with a stately presence.

Luckily, Midwest garden centers finally are embracing the beauty of the tropics, so big plants are not hard to find. And I’m not talking about hardy shrubbery. Elephant ears, papyrus and tiger-striped cannas beckon and find rides in my cart along with the premium annuals and promising perennials.

Tall, multicolored ‘Granny’s Bouquet’ zinnias flourish in the sunny border. We’ve been clipping them regularly for the table, which encourages new flowering. Heritage garden roses are into their second or third flush. Landscape roses continue strong and brighter than ever. Grape, patio and large luscious tomatoes are at peak production. Yellow and green summer squash are so prolific that neighbors walk the other way when they see you carrying yet another vegetable.

July and August also can bring out the worst in marginally healthy plants. Plants are a collection of living cells, just like us. We’re more susceptible to going downhill fast when stressed, underfed, dehydrated, injured, too hot or too cold.

This is the time of year when we go from just harvesting to harvesting in earnest. You actually have to have a plan. What you can’t eat, freeze or can now, you need to give away and give away fast. Here are some great ways to make the most of your bounty.

The most admired image of a garden bridge is the one at Giverny in France, immortalized in paintings by Claude Monet and photographed by scores of visitors intent on capturing Monet’s vision. Gently arching over a narrow part of the lily pond, this Japanese-style bridge has green railings and an arbor that rises above it, entwined with trailing wisteria vines. Looking across the glistening pond filled with waterlilies, the bridge creates a romantic and dreamy background in harmony with the graceful weeping willows and the green lushness of the garden.

Garden bridges can be both purposeful and enchanting. They not only provide access across a pond, a small stream, a ravine or a swale, but can also create a dramatic focal point. Bridges are a symbol of transition and passage, and are often considered a metaphor for life. Crossing a bridge and looking down into a swiftly flowing stream or still pond opens up vistas into and across the water. It also gives you a new perspective as you view the garden from such a vantage point.

New beginnings are easily born on thresholds. Whether it’s in the garden or in life, this point of transition symbolizes a new beginning. For brides, being carried across the threshold of a new home marks the start of a new phase of life. For my own wedding in 1988, my husband and I were married on the banks of the Elizabeth River in Portsmouth, Va., on a dock that served as the threshold of our new life together.

A threshold is where one moves from one space to the next – an arbor, a bridge, a gate, a break in the hedge, a set of dramatic steps leading to a level change or even a pair of columns – made of either shrubs or trees, or hardscape materials. They punctuate a space, alerting visitors they are about to experience a change in scenery.

The hardscape of a landscape provides the “bones” of an overall design. Typical hardscape features are patios, pathways, stairways and various garden structures.

Concrete is often used for paved areas, and the number of options available to homeowners is only limited by one’s imagination. The bright white of new concrete is highly reflective and sometimes isn’t the first choice of a finish. Given a little bit of time, any concrete will begin to age and the bright-white tones will mute to a tan, earthen color simply through normal weathering.