I live on about an acre on a fairly busy county road on the Olympic Peninsula, Washington state. When I moved here from big, noisy Seattle, it seemed spooky quiet, but after a few years and after my ears adjusted to a new level of ambient noise, jet and automobile traffic noise started to get on my nerves. I had two choices: move, live with it, or do something. I chose the latter.
I suppose I must have gardening baked in the bones. My grandfather started a plant nursery in the Upper Peninsula, Michigan that is still in operation by my cousin and was preceded by some great, great grandfather who was also a nurseryman. I’ve been gardening and admiring nature, ah, forever. But, mostly, I can’t stop doing it, even when it’s snowing or raining or I should be leaving the soil alone. The garden tinkering calls to me.
My interest is in creating peaceful and beautiful spaces that support nature rather than subtract from it. I am mindful to minimize the inputs to and outputs from my garden, which may benefit me immediately but creates pollution, including noise pollution, elsewhere. I build my gardens for the bird, reptile, mammal, insect and amphibian residents so they don’t look like traditional gardens; they are scruffier.
And — my creds — I have degrees in journalism, zoology and horticulture and, for my day job, I’m employed at a rare plant nursery. That’s all!