Southern Indiana Living

JAN-FEB 2015

Southern Indiana Living magazine is the exclusive publication of the region, offering readers a wide range of coverage on the people, places and events that make our area unlike any other. In SIL readers will find beautiful photography, encouraging s

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Jan/Feb 2015 • 15 H ardscape – the use of iron, rock, brick, wood and found objects in the home landscape – is not a very useful word in garden planning. It's too harsh, ugly and even limiting. No one sits around in early spring knee deep in plant catalogs and impos- sible dreams and thinks: "Oh boy, I just gota do something this year to improve my hardscape." Where's the joy and poetry in that? But Hidden Hill thrives on the hard- scape concept, the use of such objects to softly meld local history, great vacations, antique hunting, loving family and the kindness of strangers into our landscape – and your garden can beneft from that philosophy, too. So think about the memories, ar- tifacts and life souvenirs you can add to your garden as you plan for 2015. At the very least, they rarely need watering. When we moved onto our bare and weedy 8 acres almost 40 years ago we kept digging up thick, rectangular stones bur- ied just below the soil, with some ragged edges almost at lawn mower height. We learned from the neighbors they were the buried remnants of the long stone walls that once angled up and along the farm felds that preceded us – the walls dating back into the 1800s. We dug up those rocks – added oth- ers from a nearby feld – and resurrected our local Hoosier history with fowing walls and raised beds for the 21st centu- ry. They are a perfect ft – and the word "hardscape" never applies to even an inch of it. For those whose home sites are smaller than 8 acres – and perhaps firting with the EPA, local ordinance and crimes against geology – we rarely visit a wave- pounded beach or rocky trail on vacation without fnding a rock or two to bring home as a remembrance. We never, of course, indulge in the practice without leaving a few billion trillion water-and-time-washed rocks be- hind. Some of the stones we do collect end up in the outside landscape, the smaller ones on a living room shelf where proper lighting softens the harder edges. The stones then serve as walk-by memory makers: a Nova Scotia vacation; the pounding waves of Lake Superior; the indescribable strata at the botom of the Grand Canyon; a towering cut in a sculpt- ed New Mexico canyon. I do it guilt-free. The stones are per- sonal, not high on the inheritance list. I'm sure they're all going to end up back be- neath Mother Earth at some point, any- way. Our split-rail fence might roughly fall under the description of hardscape, although it has literally softened over the years, slowly roting away into the ground. It was purchased from a farmer down near Hodgenville, Ky. – not far from another farm where a guy named Lincoln was born – a guy who split a few rails in his day himself. It's been a joy to own, a continual source of pleasure and discussion even as its landscape worth has been reduced to fencing in a few hundred ferns and hosta beneath a spreading sugar maple tree. So what? It came from a place near a place where one of our greatest presi- dents was born. Who wouldn't want that in their garden? The two horse-drawn cultivators that rest on our small mounds of earth above beds of iris, sedum, roses and orna- mental grasses were gifts from customers who valued the cultivators' history and worth – and had no earthly place for them in their smaller yards. Our small railroad cart of a type once used by Gandy Dancers in the earlier days of American railroads was a memo- rial gift from a woman whose husband worked on the railroad – a remembrance we both now share. Our 150-year-old, Civil War-era win- dow from the Jefersonville Quadrangle – soon to up decorated with stained glass – needs no justifcation. But let's reduce all this to some arti- facts that would ft in your yard, the small- er yard, even the patio home. Almost 40 years ago I bought a piece of stone carved into small steps that was said to have been used at a stagecoach stop in nearby Utica … the steps too lovely and the story too good to be checked too carefully. We now own a few of the old cob- blestones that once paved the streets of downtown Louisville; they would ft in any garden. We have a small, fat stone at the entrance to Hidden Hill on which a friend carved a whimsical "You are here" with a large "X" on it. A water-flled iron pot once used for rendering lard is a constant reminder of my wandering-Kentucky columnist days. It's of great use for our foating plastic "Guard Ducks" and brightly colored plas- tic balls. Not far away is nostalgia gone way over the top: the tub from our frst wash- ing machine – which makes a great plant- er. It's never sacrilege to use Great- Grandma's old, rusty teapot to grow sedum. The kids don't want it. Great- Grandma would have done the same; she never threw anything away.• Bob Hill owns Hidden Hill Nursery and can be reached at farmerbob@hid- denhillnursery. com. 'Hidden Hill thrives on the hardscape con- cept, the use of such objects to softly meld local history, great vacations, antique hunting, loving fam- ily and the kindness of strangers into our landscape'

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