Yesterday a friend helped me move a picnic table and
prop up some planter boxes filled with vegetable starts.
I wanted them to be at least a foot off the ground to
discourage slugs and snails and to make them easier
to plant, water and harvest. For props we used some
scrap 2x4s I had ready to split for kindling and some
scrap 2x6s he had left over from building his cabin. He
cut each of them to 18”, made four stacks of five each,
and voilà, the two boxes were neatly hovering above the
patio at just the right height.
Opposite this little patio is my favorite garden bed,
formed when we excavated to create a new perimeter
foundation wall for this 1923 cabin. I took advantage
of the resulting mound of dirt to create a bed that is
raised by about 18”. It captures the heat from the
limited morning sun and holds it in a way the ground
level beds can’t. It’s a permanent home for an “Iceberg”
rose, a wintersweet (chimonanthus praecox), a winter
hazel “buttercup” (corylopsis pauciflora), and a hydrangea
(h. arborescans), all of which provide both flowers
and fragrance through much of the year. Seasonally it
accommodates garlic, sugar snap peas, parsley, cilantro
and kale, among others. They benefit from regular doses
of cooking water from pasta and vegetables and rainwater
captured from a nearby downspout. Composted
leaves, kitchen scraps and an annual top dressing of
chicken manure round out the soil enhancement so
crucial to growth.
A cedar-chipped path leads past another garlic bed and
around the north side of the cabin, which is banked
with unusual variegated leaf rhododendrons whose
blooms are fragrant and names long forgotten. To
be true, paths must evolve. We and the other animals
create them, and they are left to the gardener to
formalize. We can add a bit of charm here, a bit of
mystery there, but stubbornly imposing our will upon
these little landscapes is futile. At the north west end
of the cabin, a curve in this particular path beckons
to the street side garden; it is dominated by two aging
and very productive filberts whose fruit is harvested
completely by the perfectly timed arrival of the Stellar
Jays. Some rosa rugosa (“snow goose”) and a volunteer
ground covering of wild strawberries complete
the picture.
The entrance to the cabin is flanked by very rambunctious
male and female hardy kiwi (actinidia arguta),
which despite absolutely no encouragement and
occasional severe pruning, produce abundant sweet
fruits in late summer. Three apple trees (Akane,
Chehalis and Macoun), a Brooks plum and a Kribich
nectarine provide ample winter fruit and bring us
back to the little patio where we began our tour of one
small island garden, home to many birds, a small fish
pond, the neighbors’ predatory cat—some conflict
here¬—native and non-native plants, struggles with
wind, weather and invasive species, and a world of
promise and learning.
