Stone terrace gardeners

After being inspired by the terraced hillside gardens of Cinque Terre, Italy, Nadine and I took a trial-and-error approach to gardening our emerging stone terraces at Minden Lake.

In the sunnier area near the lake, a hydrangea flourished, delivering large white blooms as big as sun hats. Hydrangeas love stone — their roots slither under and around it, seeking the cool soil. The big, healthy hydrangea bush was temporarily subdivided while a new terrace was built around it. The baby hydrangeas resulting from the division were gifted to a few of our neighbors. Part of the original root was replanted and will flourish again in the next year or two.

Along with the gardening miracles came a few disasters. A groundhog burrowing near the lake wreaked havoc on our begonias, for example, nibbling the leaves each time the plants attempted to grow.  We ended up with some stunted begonias, and none of the colour we thought they might add to the terraces. Live and learn.

Nadine took a page from her parents’ garden at Horseshoe Lake, and planted gladiola bulbs in spring.  Their multi-coloured spikes dressed up our hillside garden in summer. The bulbs — and any new bulbs generated that year — would be taken inside to be stored over winter in a cool spot in the basement, then set out again each spring to bloom again.

Butterfly blooms

Likewise, multi-coloured zinnias, grown from seeds saved from Nadine’s parents’ garden, attracted Monarchs and other butterflies.  We learned they would produce even more flowers if the first few blooms were nipped off, stimulating the plant to grow more stems sideways and upwards. Zinnia seeds could be easily saved over winter and replanted.  We also experimented with a couple of perennial flowers, including a butterfly bush, purchased and grown from seed from a company called William Dam Seeds near Hamilton.

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Nadine’s Mom suggested Nasturtiums, which would cascade in green over the stone while putting out bold orange and red blooms. As a bonus, the blooms were edible, with a fresh but mild flavour, perfect for a quick snack near the lake.  Further below on a rough stone amphitheatre near the lake, Nadine was nurturing plants including lilies, creeping thyme, perennial geraniums, phlox and other flowers that had taken to the site and climate of Minden Hills.

Wildflowers such as brown-eyed susans and daisies complemented the mix. Wild milkweed was another big draw for the Monarch butterflies.

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A taste of Italy

To tip our hat to the terraced gardens of Italy, we set out a couple of small fig trees in pots. They would be brought inside over winter.  Nearby I found some wild grape vines, resembling Ontario’s native concord variety.  These were replanted next to the farmer’s fence alongside our lot in the hopes they would grow and produce some sweet fruit.

On the stone terraces, the new plants did well.  The terraces held moisture and were partially shaded by some young oak and poplar trees. We continued to enrich the sandy soil with some peat moss, worm castings, and home-grown compost.

While most flowers flourished, we also learned what did not work in the sunny spot.  After the groundhog had his way with the begonias, we discovered that colourful impatiens were too tender for this hot spot.

An organic approach

Further up from the lake, at the new terrace fronting the little log cabin, we planned a garden that could accommodate more shade. We decided on a natural approach, letting the new terrace area green up by itself, and adding just a few subtle garden accents. These included hostas, propagated from our home in Toronto, and some small pots of shade-tolerant impatiens. These were planted at each end of the new terrace fronting the cabin. To accessorize, we placed the same plants in pots on the stumps of the old beech tree nearby.

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Meanwhile, the forest was declaring itself on and around the site of the cabin.  A maple tree that been cut down to squeeze the cabin into its new forest home was shooting out stems again.  It looked like it would regrow nicely to the north of the cabin.  Similarly, some smaller beech trees that were taken down next to the cabin site were starting to bud out from the stumps.

A life force

The Minden flora and fauna were relentless, nesting the human-made structures of wood and stone in their life force and life cycles.

Behind the cabin, a groundhog had established its home, with its circular hole marking the entrance to its underground lair in the sandy soil. In the oak trees above, squirrels chewed off small branches, which would drop to the cabin roof and forest floor, where the acorn bounty could be claimed.

Beneath the soil, tiny blind moles made subterranean tunnels next to the new terrace capstones, pushing up the backfilled sand in a telltale pattern. Chipmunks established new tunnels around the site that would keep them warm in winter. The nesting bluebirds in front of our cottage made regular trips to sit in an old oak branch above the cabin, as if to check our progress.

The final push for the stone terrace project was a second dry-stone retaining wall behind the cabin. By early August, I had got most of it built. I was down to the “B-grade” stone in my pile but I still found a few gems to piece the terrace together.

The design echoed the first terrace built just to the west of the cabin — a straight line with freelance curve ending in a small tree cluster. This would afford breathing room and a safe gravel pathway against the hill sloping above the cabin. The second terrace would also keep away ice in winter.

More sun cut through the trees here, especially in the morning, so we imagined some sun-loving flowers to dress up the terrace there once it was complete. The days were getting shorter in August, and the sky cast shades of pink and purple as the sun set over the Cox barn next door.

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Granite capstones: Icing on the cake

A nice capstone will make a stone waller salivate. They are hard to find, but they are the icing on the cake for a dry stone wall, adding architectural detail as well as structural integrity.

As my dry stone terrace rose, I was on the lookout for capstones. Brent Coltman, a neighbour on nearby Horseshoe Lake Road who supplied much of my stone for the terrace project, suggested I pay his Dad a visit.

I met Wayne Coltman at his place south of Minden, in old farm country along the winding Deep Bay Road. In his early 80s, Wayne still works full time in the aggregates business, providing excavation and supplying materials such as gravel and sand for construction.  Wayne also keeps his hand in music, playing electric bass for a local band.

Finding a stone mecca

We hopped in Wayne’s white pickup and drove through the old farm on his property, touring his gravel pit before heading up a hill through the forest. We arrived at a small granite quarry littered with gorgeous slabs of pink and grey granite.

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I could have my cake and eat it too!  The first granite stones that caught my eye would work perfectly for some extra steps leading to the cabin, I thought.  They were about four feet wide, two inches thick, and heavy. Wayne and I grabbed the ends, picked them up and walked them to the road.

“I have to take care of the fingers so I can keep playing music,” he joked, as he lifted half of a stone that must have weighed over a hundred pounds and was making my back ache. While he went back to get a bigger machine to haul the stone, I scouted out capstones for the terrace.

The June mosquitoes were feasting on me and seemed to especially enjoy the area behind my ears. I zipped up my jacket and started hauling capstones — picking them up and treading carefully back to the road, or sometimes dragging them if too heavy.

Special delivery

When Wayne returned, we lifted them into the bucket of his front-end loader and bounced back along the road to his house. I got about half of the stones into the back of our minivan, and drove them home carefully along the highway, making sure I did not have to brake in a hurry with the heavy load.

Later, Nadine and I came back to get the other half. Wayne was in his garage doing some welding repairs. He lifted his welding goggles, and put down his torch. We had a nice chat about his farm, which includes a gorgeous pond next to his house.

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Back at our cottage on Minden Lake, I used a hand trolley to wheel each stone down to the project site. The terrace was coming up nicely but went slightly off level around its curve.  I knew I could bring it up to a better level with some thicker capstones on the curved end.  So I got busy getting the thickest stones over there first.

The summer side of life

Across from the cottage, the Bluebirds were busy feeding their chicks — swooping in with the food, and out with the guano. Under our cottage porch, Swallows had nested. The birds were active mornings and evenings, flitting around the farm fields next door.

While the female Swallow was away, I used a stepladder to climb up and see what was going on. The parents had created a soft nest of feathers and twigs on top of their sturdier foundation on top of our porch column. The first chick had broken its speckled egg and hatched, a tiny pink thing with a black beak. Three unbroken eggs showed that three more chicks were on the way.

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Capstone dreaming

Working with the capstones, I used a chisel hammer now and again to chip off unruly edges, to get the stones to fit together better. When a stone was a bit wonky, I used little wedges to stabilize it.  To get the back edge straight, I fit in some small cheater stones that would look okay once the terrace was backfilled. Finally, I packed in a few small heartstones around the heavy capstones.

You can get into a trance while stone walling — the process triggers a kind of Zen state. You forget the mosquitos and keep walling. In your trance, you investigate, touch and place every piece of stone. There may be thousands in a small terrace like this one, a cascade of shapes, heft, tactility and colour. That night, it’s no wonder you may dream of stone.

Pretty soon the capstones were fitting together nicely on top, bringing the terrace up to a nice level of about 3 feet high. I would have more work to do with the terrace garden, and another retaining wall behind the cabin.

But for now, the icing was on the cake.

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A sturdy foundation

The stones were speaking to me…

With the site excavated and gravel base in place, it was time to build the foundation for the stone terrace garden.

I had been “mining” my new five-ton stone pile for the biggest, squarest stone I could find. It wasn’t quite like finding a needle in a haystack, but I would smile whenever I dug out a nice foundation stone.

A palette of stone

As the stone migrated to the job site by wheelbarrow and hand-trolley, I grouped like-minded stone in clusters.  If stone-walling is like oil painting, I wanted a nice palette to choose from. I also wanted a surplus of stone close at hand, so I could keep on a roll. A few of the absolute best stones were earmarked for the corners — they would act as anchors for the foundation.

Our resident blue birds kept busy flying in and out of their bird box with nesting material. It had been a late spring and we hoped the female would settle down soon to lay her eggs.  Meanwhile, swallows had nested on our front porch and would make a racket and fly away whenever we opened the front door.

Next door, a few cows roamed the pasture at Cox Farm.  Rhubarb was sprouting in our garden, and lilac bloomed in our front yard. After a long winter, summer had truly arrived.

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The gravel base for the terrace was a straight seven feet, with a freelance curlicue at the end for architectural interest. I dug in and started to rough in the bigger stones, and used a rubber mallet to tap them together as tightly as possible.

Keeping a tight fit

In a few cases, I chiselled off small edges for a tighter fit. The gravel base had some give, so when a foundation stone was slightly misshapen I could work the flaw into the base; that way, the upper side stayed as level as possible for the second course. Once in awhile, I took a break to back to spot and correct any serious flaws in level or placement.

The next task was hearting — carefully packing in smaller stones to create integrity inside the structure.  I worked my way on bended knee along the line of foundation stones, packing about six buckets of heartstones inside.

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I checked the wall from above.  A light rain brought out the variegated colours of the stone foundation, including its curlicue at the south end. The muted pinks, greys, blacks and blues of the stone stood out nicely against the green of the oaks, birch and ironwood trees nearby.

So pretty — but also a pattern that would be hidden forever once the terrace was fully built. Better get a photo for posterity!

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The stone terrace garden now had a sturdy foundation.

 

 

Five tons of stone

If you had two hundred bucks in a sock, would you use it to buy:

a) 25 latte ventis at Starbucks?

b) a nice car wash and detailing for your old minivan?

c) or five tons of Haliburton stone?

If you were a dry-stone waller, the correct answer goes without saying.

I had scrounged stone from a number of sources at our cottage on Minden Lake, but the cupboard was bare, so to speak.  To be ready for the garden terrace project this summer, I needed a fresh supply. So I put in a call to a guy who knows stone.

Brent Coltman provides excavation services in the Minden-Haliburton area.  He comes by the profession honestly — his Dad, Wayne, still works in the “aggregates” business into his 80s — quarrying stone, sand and gravel and other materials for construction in the area.

Stone riches

The Minden-Haliburton area is rich in Canadian shield stone, including granite with its rich reddish-grey hues, and older sedimentary stone.  The area is crisscrossed by a fault line that has pushed ancient stone into view. A trip north on highway 35 features some stunning granite rock cuts — such as the one near Miner’s Bay.

Brent has a gravel pit on 100 acres of bush, where he processes material from excavations. Sand, for example, is screened in a giant mechanized machine. The final product is used as a clean and porous bed for new septic systems.

I visited Brent at the pit and we agreed on a nice pile of small and mid-size stone, as well as the price —  $200 dollars. The next morning, as I watched a pair of bluebirds build their nest in a box near our cottage, I heard Brent’s large dump-truck chugging down our small cottage lane.

The eagle had landed

Despite a tight space, Brent backed up expertly to the delivery site, and tipped five tons of stone onto our cottage lawn. He also gave me the contact information for his dad, as I needed some special stone for stairs and capstones. I would get that later.

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The eagle had landed. On this multiple choice question, I had selected option c).

Nesting instinct

With a good supply of stone, it was time to start excavating the site for the stone terrace garden.  The stonework would create a kind of nest for the pretty little log cabin that Nadine’s dad built years ago.  The cabin, situated on a sloping hill in the woods, would get a stone terrace in front. A few shade-loving plants would green up and beautify the area in front of the porch. The log cabin would also be shored up in the back with a dry-stone retaining wall, to create some breathing room and better drainage against the slope behind it.

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Nadine and I scoped out the stone terrace area.  With a tape measure, I marked two spots for a line parallel with the cabin’s front. Using a standard round-edged garden spade, I started excavating the area for the first terrace, one shovelful of sand at a time.

Once I got the excavation area roughed in, I put in two posts and tied a string in between. This would guide the building of a straight and level wall.

I continued excavating the site to allow a wall roughly seven feet long by 2 1/2 feet wide at the base.  The terrace would rise to about three feet high, to create the little green space level with the cabin front porch.

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For a porous and flexible base for the dry stone wall, I put down a couple inches of gravel and tamped it down using an 8×8-inch hand tamper, all the while checking that the site stayed level.

Curating stone

Next up was stone selection. Using a small but sturdy hand-dolly, I started to load up the bigger stones and deliver them to the site. These would comprise the terrace foundation. To save my sore back, I tried to use gravity and leverage to my advantage, and trundle the material carefully down the hill on the dolly. Stones of similar heft and shape were grouped together near the site. Most of these foundation stones weighed 30 to 50 pounds and would provide a integral footprint for the terrace.

As the bigger stones were pulled from the pile, I also looked for mid-sized building stones to be used later, as well as the small “heart-stones” that would pack the centre of the structure.  These were all delivered to the job site by dolly or wheelbarrow.

To get a sense of the utility of each stone, you can flip it around. Ideally it has two straighter opposing sides, and a front that will give a gentle angle, or “batter” for the face of the wall. Each stone has its own beauty, heft, colour, character and faults. After a while, the stones start to speak to you. A stone waller in the stone selection phase might even admit to dreaming about stone.

 

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A moveable feast

As I concentrated on finding nice stones, the first wave of June blackflies feasted on my neck and a hot sun found its way through the trees. Curating stone can be a dreamy but prickly business.

As stones were sorted and delivered to the job site, my 5-ton, $200-dollar pile of stone was slowly starting to shrink.

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Stone terrace inspiration

manarola

Over centuries on the rugged Italian Riviera coast, stone craftsmanship turned steep slopes into sturdy terraces. In turn, the terraces supported a string of colourful seaside villages and vineyards: Cinque Terre.

Italian for “paradise,” in my opinion.

Nadine and I were headed to Italy to attend my cousin’s wedding anniversary near Lucca.

Before our trip, our friend David showed us pictures of the coast he had visited at Cinque Terre, noting that “the stone terracing is pretty stunning.” Looking back, I know I didn’t fully appreciate his comment. Perhaps, I had mused, David was a little too obsessed with stone. Certainly, I had not yet developed my own stone-building obsession.

Taking the mule trail

After a wonderful family event in an elegant villa near Lucca, Nadine and I travelled to the tiny, pretty coastal town of Volastra. it is perched high on the hills overlooking Cinque Terre. Our hotel owner, knowing our Italian vocabulary totalled perhaps 15 words, pulled out a map. She proceeded to give us walking directions in enthusiastic English to the nearest coastal Cinque Terre village, Manarola. “You can take the path here!” she added — pointing to the spot.

We started off on a small road, then caught an ancient set of wide stone steps heading down to the ocean. The steps themselves were tightly constructed of dry stone, originally built to withstand daily mule-trains up and down the hill. After centuries of use, the steps were flattened and polished.

Rounding a corner on the mule trail, we saw the full scope of the stonework that was the foundation for life in Cinque Terre — sweeping curved terraces tracking the coast like elevation lines on a topographical map.

Orchards and gardens occupied the terraces, as well as vineyards that used a small monorail-like system to move the grape harvest up and down the steep hills. Below, the colourful homes and buildings of Manarola clung to the steep coast next to the ocean, also buttressed by stone terracing.

How steep was it? We continued down to the main street and small port of Manarola, where fishers still plied their trade in small ocean-going boats. It was so steep that each boat had to be stored on its trailer on main street, then lifted by a small crane and winched down into the rocky but well-protected harbour.  At the end of a fishing day, the boat and catch would be winched back up. Visitors hiked into the rocky harbour for a dip, then relaxed in trattorias in the small town square, enjoying local specialities of pesto, fish and wine.

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A fishing boat is lowered by winch into the harbour at Manarola

Interconnections

The five towns of Cinque Terre, and larger hub of La Spezia to the south, are connected to each other by rail, road, boat and walking trails. Knowing we could return by train or boat, Nadine and I set off on hikes each day to explore the interconnected villages. Paradise can be crowded in summer, so we avoided some of the visitor traffic in the towns by hiking through the country.

As the area’s commerce now favoured tourism, some of its original vineyards had gone fallow, and pine trees were putting down roots on the ancient stone terraces.  In other areas, farmers continued to nourish grape vines, fruit trees such as lemon, olive and apple and lush vegetable gardens.

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Cinque Terre clings to the cliff. In foreground: a fruit tree is harvested

Here and there, we came across masons repairing areas of terracing that were occasionally damaged by flash floods on the steep coast.  They used wheelbarrows to transport their tools and stone. There was very little room here for motorized construction machines, so much of the work was by hand. They used a dry stone construction method — carefully stacking the larger stones one-over-two and two-over one, and sloping back into the hill. Behind the face stones, they packed in smaller stones to give the wall integrity. On the wall’s face, they tapped in little wedge stones to keep it tight. On top, they placed heavy stones to keep the wall in place.

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A stone terrace gets its close-up.

Solid as a rock

Along its coasts and in its mountains, Italy is said to have 100,000 miles of dry stone walls.  Because they are permeable, they retain soil and some moisture while allowing heavier precipitation to wash through. Many have lasted untouched for centuries — works of art and engineering, without mortar — solid as rock. A New York Times article described how citizens of Cinque Terra are reigniting stone building traditions to monitor and repair ancient terraces — to prevent them from washing into the sea. (See NY Times photo of Manarola, included at top of this post).

The road less travelled

We took a bad fork in the trail and ended up clinging to the side of a cliff on a path that was getting narrower by the second.  A young Swedish couple hailed us, and gestured for us to turn back — they directed us back to the main trail. We thanked them, and during a brief chat, learned that they were on their honeymoon in Italy.

At the end of a gorgeous hike, we arrived hot and tired in the town of Vernazza. We  made a beeline for seats in a breezy patio in the town square. Cooling off with a glass of local white wine, we ordered some pasta to reward our hiking efforts. At the other side of the restaurant, we spotted the young Swedish couple just sitting down, also red-faced from the hike. We paid our waiter to send some wine their way as a surprise.

They caught our eye and smiled at us, and we raised a toast to them. “Cheers! Well done! And thanks again for setting us straight!”

Cooling off

Back in our small hotel in Volastra that night, we wandered over to the town’s only restaurant. Most of the staff were still having a pre-shift chat and smoke, sitting just outside. So we continued through the old part of the town, where a narrow promenade and high stone buildings afforded a cool walk on a warm day.

It was mid-summer and days were above 30 Celsius. The use of stone’s thermal properties to moderate heat are even more important in the heat spikes of the Italian summer, when temperatures can approach 40 Celsius in some spots.

After circling back through the courtyard of the town’s old stone church, we sat down to a local speciality of small whole fish and pasta — and more local wine to wash it down. There we plotted our next set of hikes — including an ambitious one with some steep stretches connecting to the last village of Monterosso al Mare — the only one of the five villages boasting a beach. And we could not miss Riomaggiore, where couple declare their love by placing padlocks on gates along the seaside stroll.

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Lovers’ locks on the Oceanside promenade at Rimaggiore

 

A little piece of Cinque Terre…

Trying to take in all the beauty and expanse of the Italian coast, I thought about the lakeside place we had purchased near Minden, Ontario, north of Toronto, with its steep slopes towards the lake. Not exactly gravity-defying slopes like those in Cinque Terre, but in sore need of some stone garden terracing. Nadine and I had already rolled up our sleeves and built a little stone patio by the lake.

Perhaps I could bring back a little piece of Cinque Terra to our new place in Minden, Ontario?

flowers and terraces

A purple Hydrangea blooms and thrives on a stone terrace garden in Cinque Terra