Pathways at Edgewood Garden

Just the other day, I found notes that I put together for an informal talk about gardening on steep slopes. We, here in the Pacific Northwest, have plenty of gardening opportunities (and challenges) to garden in areas where beach lines, drainages, rivers, or slumps have created a difficult garden topography. Even though I am now gardening on a property that has plenty of flat land (which harbors plenty of issues in itself), I did spend considerable time working on a very steep ridge…so here are some suggestions for not going down a slippery slope! It’s harder to work—but the rewards can be great, especially in the DRAMA that is inherently contained in altitude changes.

One of the biggest considerations is accessibility. I’m not talking about making your mountain-goat garden wheel-chair accessible. I’m simply talking about getting around and being able to do the maintenance in the garden. Be sure to make paths, especially “main” or oft used paths as comfortable and accessible as possible. Use switchbacks to minimize altitude gain. they may be longer, but are definitely easier on the knees. This may not always be possible, but it’s a good aspiration. Another thing to think about is break up steps into small sections. Rather than forty steps all at one time (remember this isn’t a pilgrimage route) , split up the steps into small sections. Five flights of eight steps each are A LOT EASIER!

As for ANY garden, make the major paths much, much wider than you think you need. This is such a difficult directive. EVERY garden writer and designer says it…but it takes several years of gardening to finally BELIEVE it. Oh gosh, you think, I don’t want to WASTE all that space in paths. After all, I could plant so many more plants along those side spaces. Ah, therein lies the problem. Those edge plants will grow…and likely flop all over that path. What WAS a three foot path, after being encroached from left and right by six inches is now an two foot path…and NEXT year, those plants will be encroaching a foot on each side…and you are left with a goat path at best. Trust me on this.

Remember maintenance! It IS best if you can actually “get there from here!” Wherever possible, leave wheelbarrow accessibility, unless, of course, you really LIKE hauling stuff up and down in buckets. If you have extremely steep areas with steps, see if you can weave a side path that won’t be too obvious for a wheeled conveyances. One of my favorite tricks is to embed some “stepping” stones in very steep hills among your plants, so that you have little places to stand on a slope when weeding and don’t slip and slide or mangle your plants during maintenance…you can just stand on your hidden platforms..

When cutting paths into side of hills, remember that the soil on the up side of the path will slip into the path and the soil on the down side of the path will slide away. Reinforce with rock or barriers to minimize path maintenance. Don’t clear steep slope areas. It’s not legal, for one. We inter-planted garden plants (shrubs and ground covers) with natives…or even invasives (We temporarily left blackberries in many areas, for example).…until the garden plants were robust enough to hold the bank. Agricultural Extension programs have information about good slope maintenance plants. You want to have plants that create robust and deep root systems to stabilize soil movement and run-off. Walk around in your own immediate area. Look at the native vegetation on the steep areas. Note what seems to be holding on at seemingly untenable angles. Get those plants; that’s always a good place to start.

In our Pacific Northwest climate, try not to use slippery materials in especially steep areas. Particularly in locations where you need to take a step DOWN. Avoid making anyone have to land onto a slick-when-wet surface or rock. At Ridge Garden, we had to change out many of our beautiful blue stones on our paths to the safety of smooth gravel surfaces, because perilous descents. They were beautiful paths, but way too hazardous. Even with the best of planning, we sometimes had to spread sand as temporary measure to “roughen up” some rock surfaces in wet weather. On our many railroad tie steps, we nailed down 3-tab roofing material (without the tabs) to add more traction. I liked to use dark colors that didn’t show very much, but contrasting colors might be interesting as well.

One last practical matter: Watering on a slope is very difficult. Grow as many plants that don’t need watering and don’t plan on a drip watering system. The bottom will be well watered, but the upper regions will not be. Sprinklers, especially small area emitters will work better for distributing water and minimizing runoff. Do as many lateral lines as possible, to prevent upper dry areas. Water does have a tendency to head downhill!

Working on a “difficult” sloped plot, gives you great opportunities for showing off plants. Put downward facing flowers on the upslope so you can look into their faces. Other plants look great from above, put them on the downslope. Many plants thrive when their roots are anchored between rocks. Search out those plants and use them—rock gardeners will drool. Drama is much easier on a slope. Switchbacks provide lots of peek-a-boo sites where you can surprise your garden guest with something wonderful and unexpected. Our elevation from street to house at Ridge Garden was the equivalent of eight or nine flights of stairs. We put little patios with different themes and styles as well as and sculptures or features to surprise and entertain the garden guest as they ambled up the hill. A slope provides lots of “hidden” areas that invite exploration and prevent visitors from seeing the whole garden all at once. It’s a gift, optimize it!

This weekend, I purchased a new digital camera. I’m not going to get into a big treatise on cameras, but suffice it to say it is an SLR digital with a well-known pedigree. A few weeks ago, I was expounding the usefulness of using the digital camera to help you design your garden, make intelligent choices about where to put plants, and to document your progress. Today, the discourse will be about the sheer joy of LOOKING.

In some ways, getting a new camera at this time of year, when the garden is a bit ragged with mushy hostas and denuded branches, with sticky mud and leaf strewn paths and brown flower beds, is a bit disheartening. I want to go out there and take thousands of pictures. I want to explore how the wider lens will give me new vistas, let me take in broader scenes. Oh, and the better close-up capabilities, the new expanded details of flowers: the veins, the pistils, the pollen-dusted anthers. Can’t wait. It’s all so exciting — until you consider that this is the end of November and the weather was foggy or rainy all weekend AND the manual is over 200 pages!

After the obligatory pictures of dogs sprawled on couches and images of the forbearing husband at his computer, after the oohs and aahs of the LONG view across the dining room taken after dark with just a few light bulbs on, it became obvious that I had to explore the great outdoors. Time to read the manual in bed and wet or not, slosh around in the morning. Out comes the rain hat (with a wide brim, more to protect the camera than me), I’m ready to brave the barren garden.

Mind, the garden isn’t ALL that barren. The hydrangeas have their unique muted colors as they age into the winter. The fuchsias are still holding on with nodding flowers. The Knock Out roses and Hot Cocoa roses are still staggering through a few more buds and blooms. But, these are just ghostly reminders of their summer glory. It is hard to get too ecstatic about the slightly ragged end-of-season flowers. I have wonderful images of these things. It would be faded beauty at best to capture them now. The excitement they hold is the mere fact that they are there at all, not that they are the best representatives of their kind.

To be sure, a few viburnums are opening their sweetly scented flowers and the Arbutus uneda are coming into their own as are the Schizostylis coccinea, but the last day of November is hardly the height of flashy floral display. I started out with a picture of the odd rhododendron blossom here, a Verbena bonariensis there, an early Hamamelis virginiana in bloom, a pretty leaf here, a little bark there….and I ended up on the crab apple lawn. We have over a dozen distinct flowering and fruiting crabs. Many are already stripped of their fruit by the migrating birds (The bigger ones are already pickled and served with Thanksgiving turkey.)….but looking closely, there were still loads of tiny crab apples dripping with foggy dew. Ah, here is my subject for the day, along with the nearby rosehips—at least the ones that haven’t ended up steeped in hot water. Laced with a little honey, rose hips make a lovely (AND good-for-you) tea on a cold, wet gardening day.

As I gazed through the lens of my new camera, it was miraculous. How had I failed to notice all of that variety? Some hips with little buttons, others with little depressions, varieties of scarlets, oranges, and yellows, all waiting to be investigated. Once I got started, I couldn’t help myself. LOOK, some Callicarpa japonica berries still left…and the wonderful marvel of viburnum and arbutus sporting flowers and berries simultaneously. Even the wrinkled hypericum berries are on glorious magenta stems. I was pretty wet by the time I was through glorying in those tiny facets. This is not to say that I have never NOTICED the berries, seeds, fruit and hips in the winter garden. After all, I did plant these very plants for their “winter interest.” But this was a completely different level of appreciation.

This is the time of year when you “drive by” the garden, so to speak. When chores beckon, you bundle up, get out there, get it done and get back inside. It’s more fun to look out the window than really explore. Not the time of garden tours and outings. Go out there with a mission, with your camera, and really LOOK at the details right now. Today, I think I’m going to explore BARK!

I was chatting with a new acquaintance of mine and invariably the subject of gardening came up. “Oh I only put poisonous plants in our garden. I research every plant thoroughly to make sure it’s irritating or deadly.” I was a bit taken aback. Immediately, I had visions of dire motives gleaned from reading one too many murder mystery. Perhaps my friend was preparing venomous potions in her kitchen . What sort of nefarious plot was she up to?? Get a grip, Ilga, this woman is a soccer mom! Turns out the suburban neighborhood where she lives is a haven for deer. She’s forsaken tasty rose buds, hostas and tulips for monk’s hood (Aconitum), caster beans, and colchicums.

Gardens ARE a great attraction for wildlife. However, we need to remember that does include the curse of the creatures we disdain along with the delight of the rare and beautiful creatures we crave. As with most garden activities, the good comes with the bad.

We have been blessed by NOT having deer in our garden. Even though we do have 32 acres, most of our hillside is covered with Himalayan blackberries (Rubus discolor) which seems to be impervious to almost everything except rabbits, mountain beavers, mice and other rodents. Some of their predators do manage to dine there: coyotes, weasels, and raccoons. (Oh, and skunks we know this because, our old dog, Issa, tangled with one―but that’s another story for another day.) And we are GLAD for those predators, believe me, the rabbits would over run us completely. The blackberry terrain must inhibit the inquisitive deer. It’s pretty hard trekking for anything that doesn’t crawl underneath. And, I am sure, that two German Shepherds can’t hurt, either.

The attraction of prey and predator is something that often comes as a mixed blessing. We made mason bee homes for our native northwest bees (Osmia lignaria) They are solitary bees, living naturally in holes made by beetles in soft wood. We drill ¼ in holes in thick cedar chunks to attract these early predators. What we didn’t realize was that we had also make woodpecker feeders. Interestingly, Mother Nature has accommodated for just such a calamity. The female bee lays the females deep inside the hole and the males at the entrance. Only one male needs to survive to pollinate many females, so the outside eggs are sacrificed as woodpecker food. One must resign oneself to the fact that both the birds and the bees need to make a living.

When we installed our ponds and waterfall features in our previous garden, , it was with the intention of providing our koi with a new home. Imagine our awe as we watched a great horned owl come to investigate the sound of running water on the evening we started the pumps for the waterfall. There was not a return visit for the many years we lived there, but that one silent flight only feet above our heads and the ten minute perch in our maple was such a thrill. Here, at Edgewood, the Osprey with their amazing hovering technique, come to check out the koi and the trout. Imagine the amazement of watching a bald eagle snatch a trout out of the water in your own front yard. Now, THAT was exciting! Even if I do fear for my koi.

Water features are a great attractant for creatures. I remember the excitement of having frogs finally find the pond we designed for them. We are not very near any natural ponds so I had spent a couple of spring introducing tadpoles. No luck. Then, when I abandoned the effort for a couple of year, resolving just to enjoy water plants, they arrived. We enjoyed the sightings, sitting on water lily leaves or eyes and noses drifting among the Azolla filiculoides, an aquatic fern. Then one autumn day, the kingfisher arrived and dined on them for an afternoon until every frog was gone. Here in our current garden, the “lower pond” as we call it is a haven for frogs. The din of the Pacific tree frog, Hyla regilla, can be heard through the evening with all the windows and doors closed. Mind you, I am NOT complaining. The first year we lived here, we had have a red-legged frog (Rana aurora) that came into the living room with some impunity. “Oh, there’s that frog again!” as you bend down to scoop him up and deposit him in the more appropriate surroundings of the garden. Though there is a new fungal disease that is killing our native Pacific Northwest frogs, fortunately, we seem to have a pretty healthy population.

Each autumn and early spring, we watch in trepidation as the young herons stalk our fish. Each year, at least one is convinced that he has found the ultimate feeding ground. They carefully walk the stream, or perch on the edge of the water pondering the koi.

At Ridge Garden, we lived quite near to a large heronry, so we designed our koi pond with the fish’s health and longevity in mind. Our pond was constructed with steep, straight sides that went down to the un-heron-friendly depth of five to seven feet, depending on which end of the pond you are measuring. Nonetheless, there is always a bit of fear that perhaps THIS bird THIS year has come up with a successful plan. Here, at Edgewood Garden, we have our share of herons as well, but with a half acre pond, one can only cross one’s fingers and hope for the best.

We did have a regular visitor this spring—quite bold actually. I stood, coffee cup in hand, and watched him from our front porch, for several mornings. Finally, I stealthily opening the side door, gingerly tiptoed out and stood very still. He looked at me with one eye and then twisted his head and stared with the other, gave a yawn, and resumed his koi stalking. Apparently, I wasn’t as interesting as the prospect of breakfast. Eventually, he left the pond to contemplate the Asian Garden. He didn’t even seem to mind that I went back inside, came out again with a camera and snapped his picture. Either this same handsome fellow become completely emboldened or he brought a friend that started coming up to within five feet of our front door to eat the tiny koi babies that lived in the two concrete ponds on either side of our sidewalk. That necessitated our removing the youngsters and tossing them into the big pond to make their way in the wild. Talking about all this makes me think, perhaps I should go outside right now and see who’s dining in our garden this evening!