Bulletin - Winter 1987 - North American Rock Garden Society

Life with a Rock Gardenexperience with rock gardens was not only practically nil, it was decidedlynegative. Those few I have seen in the front yards of the houses on that endof Long Island were of two kinds. The most common was a moderately steep,short bank alongside the road or driveway, pocked with rounded stones (frequentlypainted) and planted with thin weedy grass, glowing magenta mosspink, a few half-dead bearded iris, cerise portulaca, and occasionally someclumps of marigolds and a sprinkling of spindly snapdragons. In the othermore ambitious type of rock garden the stones were piled in the center ofthe lawn. The plantings were similar to those in the bank type, but wereusually enlivened by a pedestaled, cast concrete bird bath and sometimesa gnome or two or a squatting painted plaster boy holding a fishpole.It was with this background in rock gardening that I heard my newlyacquired fiance enthusiastically announce that the property onto which wewere about to move would make an ideal site for a rock garden. I was appalledto say the least, but as a bride-to-be, I tried to conceal my dismay by sayingI had rather hoped to plant ferns and wildflowers under the trees. Line undoubtedlysensed my feelings for he quickly told me that wildflowers wereperfectly suitable in a rock garden. When I suggested in a small voice thatI had heard rock gardens were a great deal of work, he pooh-poohed theidea, and waving away the tangle of brush, grapevine, nettles, and scouringrush that occupied the prospective rock garden, said, "You'll see. Once weget rid of this stuff and get it planted, it will practically take care of itself."Limited as my experience with gardening was, I was a bit doubtful; no gardenI knew of took care of itself, but I felt it was hardly the moment to say so.Little did I know what I was getting into. I soon discovered that in marryingLine I was not only marrying a rock garden, but the American Rock GardenSociety. Shortly before our wedding Line off-handedly mentioned that hehad recently taken over the job of handling the society's seed exchange andhe hoped I wouldn't mind helping him.It may seem to you that I was extremely dumb not to realize I was marryinga confirmed rock gardener prior to taking the fateful step. I knew, of course,of his interest in plants. He talked of very little else, but in those days it wasmostly of rhododendrons and azaleas. He was at that time working for GreatMountain Forest in Norfolk, where among other things, he was growing treeseedlings for the experimental plantations. His main enthusiasm, however,was for the work he was doing hybridizing rhododendrons. This was theprimary topic of conversation on our first date. As my side of Canaan Mountain,in an extension of the valley of the Housatonic River, was underlainby limestone, I expressed surprise that he could grow these plants in limysoil. I was rather pleased to be able to come up with this remark so glibly.It happened that it was about the extent of my knowledge on the subject.Line explained, "Only the valleys are limy. Canaan Mountain is schist2