Country Places

The manifesto of the often provocative garden blog states in part, "In love with real, rambling, chaotic, dirty, bug-ridden gardens". A dinner invitation was extended to me because one of the invited guests, a friend of mine, knew I would want to see this garden. She was right.

The tone was set for what I was about to see by the prayer flags lining the top of the simple metal farm gate at the entrance to the house and gardens after the mile long drive through the woods on a one lane gravel road. It was as if I had driven into the jungles of Haiku or the remote elevations of Olinda on Maui. I was about to see a private garden sanctuary.



Was it chaotic? You certainly would not see a garden like this behind a fancy electric community association gate. I thought it had a great sense of order and flow, but then I live in the wilderness. It was exuberant.

Was it bug-ridden? I hope so, but then I live in the bug-ridden wilderness and would not notice such things. At dusk there were plenty bats. They like bugs.



The garden rambled on for about two acres around the house and included a large vegetable garden and pond. This was surrounded by pasture, stables for a horse and orchards. The open grounds receded into the undulating edges of the wild forest off in the distance. It was decidedly real and obviously a much loved garden.



An existing one story old farmhouse was greatly expanded. The use of original issue salvaged materials kept the feel of the previous home and a time gone by. I tend not to take pictures of people's houses to much in respect of some privacy. This is not however a place you will ever see from the side of the road. It is tucked well into the woods in its own private valley.



In so many ways you can not avoid the two hundred years of history of European settlement in the mountains of North Carolina. So much remains of the rural agricultural past.



Even more has vanished. The land always remains.



Another resident gardener currently reaps the bounty of an intimate connection to the land.



I did not ask, but I wonder if all these objects were found on site.



To be contemplated.



Now if I did not already have my own piece of the 'aina, I could be coveting a spot like this nestled in the forest in its own private valley with a stream running through it and a history that permeates the place.



The creator of this garden sanctuary would be the person to ask if you were looking for such a Country Place. She knows this territory well.