THE FIRST PRINCIPLE OF GARDEN DESIGN

What should be the first principle of garden design?  This is a hard question, and I have heard and read many answers to it. This winter, I have been taking classes to become a Mecklenburg County Extension Master Gardener. In those classes I have heard many skilled and experienced gardeners and landscape architects address this question within the context of their particular specialty.  Tree experts give their views on tree design; rosarians on roses, perennial enthusiasts on the proper choice of season, color and length of bloom.  David Goforth, the Agricultural Extension Agent for Cabarrus County, gave the best answer I have yet heard when he taught us last Thursday about the esoteric subject of fruit and nut trees. 

David observed that over the past century, we have moved from gardens that showed the strong hand of mankind taming the wilderness to gardens composed as paintings, where the concepts of composition, color, balance, line, and harmony taught in fine arts schools prevailed, to the recent notion of landscape architects that the landscape should be planned and arranged as an architect or interior decorator would, using plants to decorate “exterior rooms” of hard surface patios, outdoor kitchens, arbors, swimming pools, decks, summer houses, sitting walls and other hardscapes. None of these approaches capture the entire function of a landscape; and none of them satisfies. In David’s view, this is this key to responsible, satisfying garden design: our gardens should be a place where plants shelter, nourish and provide refuge for ourselves and for wildlife. This concept, I believe, is brilliant in its simplicity.

First, a garden is about plants arranged on a site. Obvious?  Consider landscapes that consist primarily of pavers, firepits and planting walls. The last thingthe designer thought about was plants. A garden with inappropriate plants is no garden. Next, the plants must be selected and arranged to meet human needs.  Sound garden design has to function for the benefit of the property owner, not the designer. Walkways should be placed where humans walk. Shade should be provided where it is too hot for human comfort. Beautiful places should be created where humans can see them.  Play spaces should be arranged where children want to play.  This seems obvious, but there is great subtlety here. Too often a would-be garden lacks shade, places the entertainment area far from the kitchen where the food will be prepared, and devotes the great majority of the property to time-sucking, water intensive, money-devouring lawn.

All of these decisions add up to a landscape that does not nourish the homeowner or meet her needs.  It does not provide a place of joy, peace or refuge. There is no interaction with growing, ever-changing plants and the animal life they summon and nurture.  Instead, the homeowner lives in a sterile environment that gives nothing back in exchange for the dreaded hours of maintenance this artificial and barren environment requires. I think it is for this reason-the landscape does not meet human needs- that the most common questions I get about landscapes can be summed up as, “How can I spend less time in my yard.”

With balanced garden design, this question never arises.  Your outdoor property can and should nourish your soul. We all get a sense of calm, peace and refuge when we visit a natural park and walk among the trees or view the meadows or savannas. This reaction to nature is innate. This reaction might follow from a landscape decorated as an outdoor room or composed only as a painting, but that is unlikely. What we need is a garden designed for use, tranquility and regeneration, and not one designed for ostentation or fantasies of outdoor living.

But a garden design created only to please ourselves is missing an essential element.  It is a stool with only two legs.  When we go into nature to sooth only our own souls and to provide for only our own needs, we nourish our selfishness; we do not get closer to nature.  We must invite wildlife in as well in order to have a complete landscape.  Without critters, the plants are sterile; and the attempt to return to nature is futile.

My philosophy is that there must be an enjoyable three-way interaction between the owner, the plants and wildlife.  Only by designing a landscape and choosing plants that meet the needs of the owner and wildlife will the owner truly be satisfied with his property. Planting and planning for both increases the homeowner’s enjoyment and actually decreases maintenance. The chores that remain become pleasurable opportunities to interact with birds, butterflies and anoles or to harvest healthy food rather than misery-inducing labor to simultaneously force and restrain the growth of unsatisfying plants.

Note that employing this first principle of graden design does not dictate the style of design, which may be formal, traditional, specific to a particular county or period, naturalistic or modern.  Style can be applied to any balanced garden.  but the garden first must be balanced in order to meet the needs of all the creatures that compose it.

Moreover, by planting for wildlife as well as for humans, we help in a small way to fulfill our responsibilities as responsible stewards of this earth.  The cumulative effects of backyard wildlife habitats should not be underestimated. Millions of acres of America are devoted to sterile landscapes.  We can reclaim a portion of this waste and provide significant befits to the planet and ourselves. We do not have to be for or against a carbon tax, “cap and trade” or solar roof panels to make our yards a place where small birds, owls, hawks, insects and little critters can find protection, food, water and safe places to raise their babies. The rewards to us, to them and to our descendants are enormous.

 THE FIRST PRINCIPLE OF GARDEN DESIGN

EMPTY NESTERS-HAWK VERSION

The sky is empty.  The air is silent. The hawks have disappeared; probably for good. The hawks’ spring started out with great promise, but a dark threat loomed in my untrained mind. In late February, a pair of red shouldered hawks loudly reappeared in my neighborhood, their raucous cries sounding throughout the day from the air, from their perches in the trees, and even from one of them perched on a human contraption designed to feed other types of birds.

Hawk at Feeder 224x300 EMPTY NESTERS HAWK VERSION

Bird feeders attract a surprisingly large number and variety of unexpected visitors.

 

Readers will recall that a similar pair built a nest and successfully raised chicks in my front yard last year, and, since red-shouldered hawks reputedly mate for life, my wife and I assumed this pair was the same pair from last year.  We eagerly awaited their adding to the nest and laying a clutch of eggs for the next generation. 

Red Hawk Nest 300x224 EMPTY NESTERS HAWK VERSION

This is the same nest as the hawks built last year. It looks rather vulnerable and forlorn, even in mid-March, as no leaves have yet emerged to shelter it.

 

But there was something wrong, I thought.  This was a month too early.  Last year’s photographs show the nest greatly obscured by the new leaves of the oak tree in which it was built. They were taken in early April.  This was late February, far too early, I thought, for the hawks to lay eggs without the eggs freezing. But what do I know of hawk reproductive biology and the proper timing of egg laying?  The hawks seemed to know what they were doing.

Hawks Nest 300x224 EMPTY NESTERS HAWK VERSION

One week after first spotting them hanging around the nest, I saw the smaller of the two (presumably the male, which typically is smaller than the female) careening across the open sky in wide gyres, loudly screaming his presence.  This was not vole hunting behavior! Apparently his lady was impressed, for I soon saw her intermittently perched in the nest, presumably brooding over a new clutch of future hawks.  Certainly she was on edge, because a few days later, as I puttered about in my vegetable garden, a good 100 yards away from the nest, she suddenly flew low over my head, striking it with her wings.  She then circled about over my neighbor’s airspace and returned for another run, barely missing me.  I vowed to stay well away from the nest during the next critical few days.

Then it turned cold, very cold. Nighttime temperatures plunged into the twenties.  And the hawks disappeared. They were nowhere to be seen or heard—not over my yard, not over the neighbors’ yards; not over the Greenway. My wife and I scanned the skies; and craned our ears for the familiar loud cries. Nothing.  We sat around dinner, speculating on whether hawks would abandon a nest where the eggs had died, whether they would attempt to breed again; or whether red-shouldered hawks had predators that might have ended their lives.

This Sunday we admitted defeat.  They were gone.  Our wildlife habitat had lost its trophies, and the voles and moles were celebrating. We left for church to reflect on the cruelties and realities of God’s creation. When we returned, we had new reason to ponder the mysteries of that creation and our profound ignorance of it.  As we got out of the car, I heard unmistakable cries from the nest.  We looked up and circled the oak tree, craning our necks for a glimpse of our resurrected bird.  But we did not see a thing. I remarked that the cries reminded me of the cries I heard from the brooding parent last year that signaled, “I’m hungry.”  Then, the mate soon reappeared, bearing a food offering.  This time, the cries gradually silenced, no mate appeared, and we went inside.  alities

But I returned, listening once more.  The still invisible nesting bird began to cry again, plaintively it seemed to my anthropocentric ear. Once again, there was silence in the air.  But then I faintly heard another cry, an answering cry.  The nesting bird screamed again, and the response from afar came back, louder. Within seconds a dot appeared in the sky that grew rapidly into a second hawk, streaking towards the nest, calling out like the bugler of  a charging troop of Plains Cavalry.  The nest bound partner, a huge presence over my head, flew out to meet her mate, and they spiraled and swooped high in the heavens in recognition before forming up into a pair and heading off over the Greenway.

 EMPTY NESTERS HAWK VERSION