The Spirit of A Garden

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Gardens in the Wood River Valley are precious, almost sacred. It isn’t easy to grow a lush landscape in this high, arid place; and even for passionately dedicated gardeners, the overwhelming forces of weather have the final hand. So, when a truly breathtaking garden is in full, heady bloom in the Valley, it is a gift—fashioned of good luck, dedication, hard work, and knowledge.

Touring Jane Sturdivant’s garden, it quickly becomes apparent that the people working in this garden love it. Deeply. They know the names of the plants, the history of the plantings, and subtle changes in the garden as of that particular morning. They share bits of news, about a particular favorite in bloom or the thrill of a wildlife sighting. The low buzz of sharing can be heard between the snipping and the raking. Everyone has a favorite story related to this special place; everyone feels a bit of ownership.

Perhaps it is that sense of ownership that makes this garden what it is. These gardeners have a clear understanding that they are part of a pool of valuable resources, that together they form more than the sum of their parts, and have helped create a garden that is more than just a combination of beautiful location and pretty flowers. There is a spirit here.

Many gardens begin as baby steps in a gardener’s journey, cautious plantings of predictable and affordable plants that are known for reliability in the area where the new gardener is making a start. The Sturdivant garden has traveled far beyond those first, tentative steps and, while not technically a research garden, offers mature fruits of inquisitive labor.

At the entry to the main house, a glorious Purple Robe locust tree is in full bloom, its magnificent blossoms swaying in the morning breeze. Japanese maples bring color to shadier corners. Boston ivy gleefully climbs the walls of the house. These plants are generally not grown here, as they do not typically flourish in our harsh climate (and once a gardener loses an expensive specimen to the environment, he or she is not likely to spend more money on the same plant again).

However, the “microclimates” that can be found or fostered within many gardens have been thoroughly investigated here, in the spirit of sharing knowledge and stretching the boundaries of the high-altitude gardening experience. Atypical plants have been nurtured over the years in a variety of places in this garden, with notes carefully recorded by the devoted team caring for them. When success is achieved, the information is shared with other local gardeners and landscapers, who gain by these processes of creative trial and error—without the burden of expensive losses. It is a sort of “paying it forward” that encourages more bountiful gardens throughout the Valley.
 

In most gardens, visiting wildlife is considered beautiful but worrisome. It is not charming to observe deer nibbling a carefully espaliered pear tree, and rabbits are not quite as endearing in one’s own vegetable patch as they are in Mr. McGregor’s garden, on the pages of a beloved storybook. But, in the Sturdivant garden, wildlife visitors are expected and welcomed. In fact, their presence is planned into the garden itself.

Along the boundaries closest to the river, apple trees are espaliered in flowing rows as a distraction to wildlife. “We do see some nibbling,” explains Jane, “but the rows along the river tend to move the animals along the edges of the garden rather than into the center. When we planted the orchards on the other side of the garden, we expected that the trees would be tempting to deer and elk, so we planted enough to share with them. Only occasionally do we have to wrap a tree to discourage the animals. We’ve lost a few to them over the years, but that’s simply part of gardening in an area teeming with wildlife. I am just the steward of this land; the animals were here first.” >>>