A Garden State of Mind: May 2011

I'm about a year late in writing this and I probably won't get through the whole thing in one sitting. If I'd written it in a timely manner, I might have named it "What I Did on my Spring Vacation 2010", or "How I Spent My 2009 Tax Return", or "I'm Glad I Did It Once But I'd Never Do It Again". Or maybe "Heather's Opus". Yeah, I think I like that last one. Let's go with that.

I've always wanted a pond. A pretty, tranquil pond with a few fish (preferably koi) swimming languidly about. Never came close to having one, but it was always in the back of my mind.

So let's go back in time about 365 days.

When spring begins to even hint of coming around, I go somewhat mad. I can't be trusted near a garden center with a credit card (I think I've told you that before, but I'm getting old and repeating my stories, so just be quiet and listen), and if I don't end the day with dirt under my fingernails and mosquito bites behind my knees it wasn't a good day. I can be seen unashamedly wearing my ghastly, bright yellow Black Kow T-shirt, (obtained with proofs of purchase), which loudly declares "The Mature Manure". I once saw a man in a store wearing the exact same shirt and I knew he was a kindred soul. "Proofs of purchase," I asked? "Yes!" he beamed. It's a sickness.

Anyway, Spring of 2010 rolled around. It had been a really long, crappy, freaking cold, winter (please imagine those last few words in huge, bold, capped, red letters) and I decided it was my year for a pond. Just a tiny one, you know; oh, say, 3'x3', maybe in the little corner of the flower bed by the back porch door. I'd have to relocate the hydrangea, but that wouldn't be a big deal.

So off I went to the library to get some books on the subject. I'm big on books. I get that from my dad. Whatever the project is, you start out with research - lots of it. By the time you're done researching you sound like you know what you're talking about. You know all the in's and out's; all the equipment, what to expect in general, how to prepare for it, and you could do whatever it is blindfolded. With my preparation skills it's quite possible I could have been a Boy Scout, if they hadn't had the good sense to say "No Girls Allowed".

Now, first of all, let me say I read a lot of books on the pond subject, ten or twelve altogether (plus a couple on koi)...surfed a lot of web sites...bought a few magazine from Lowe's (again, a dangerous place for me to be in Spring). Frankly, it didn't look much like rocket science. Most of the people in the photographs shown building the ponds were women. Their hair was all in place, their boots and gloves were clean, and their faces smiling with the pure pleasure and ease of it all. Now, mind you, I wasn't entirely fooled. I knew it wouldn't be quite as easy as they were making it look. But, in keeping with my favorite motto, "How hard can it be?", I plunged ahead.

Before the Pond

The first thing to do was finalize the location. The spot by the back porch door was good, but if I were going to go to all this trouble, why not make the pond just a tad larger and put it somewhere else (read: cha-ching!). Besides, the hydrangea is so happy in that spot. My yard is itty-bitty, and surrounded by huge oak trees all belonging to my neighbors, so options were limited. There was a great spot - perfect, really - behind the wisteria-draped pergola, underneath the towering, old oak at the back southwest corner. It was pretty much wasted space back there; a somewhat pie-shaped affair, and a bit of a no-man's-land that landscaping and leaf-raking forgot. Falling leaves from the towering oak would be an issue but, as my brother pointed out, that was going to be a problem anywhere in the yard. So that decided it.

Only the Beginning

Job One, Day One, was to clean out the area corner behind the pergola. I hauled out more than 15 big bags of leaves, noting that this would be the approximate amount of leaves which would fall in the pond every season. (I wasn't far wrong, by the way.) Then I dug up the walking irises and put them in a bucket, hoping they would live. I pulled up the pavers from the area where the pond itself would go. Several, which were cemented to the posts of the pergola, I had to beat to piece with a hammer to remove (nothing like having the right tool for the job). I saved the extra pavers and the fragments. The whole blocks I used to extend the patio on the right side, and the various pieces were used to shore up the waterfall area. Then I marked out a circle where the pavers had been as a guide for the pool portion of the water feature.

First Shovel Full

My initial plan for the feature was a "spring," with a small pond as the "headwater," back near the property corner. The spring would spill into a little stream, which would step and wind gently down and fall into a deeper pond, which would extend out between the columns and in front of the pergola - oh, perhaps 5' or so in diameter.

The first two days of actual digging commenced with excavating the spring pool, and then digging my little stream bed.

PVC blocking my stream

Day Two (of many, many more than I anticipated to come) wasn't easy. It wasn't long before I hit a speed bump in the form of running into buried sprinkler lines. Mulling over what to do, I finally decided I would have to dig new trenches, cut the lines, and relocate the PVC. It wouldn't be easy. In fact, it would be a real pain in the keister. But it was smack in the way of my stream bed and I knew how to cut PVC, owned a pipe cutter, and have used plumber's dope more than once. How hard could it be?

Back to digging.

Broken Shovel, Day One

By the end of Day Two, I had also broken my relatively new, supposedly indestructible, Tru-Tuff shovel - the one with the lifetime guarantee. But Tru-Tuff was no match for Heather and the oak tree's root system (of which, as it turned out, there were a total of three levels, at varying depths, and increasing diameters, below the surface of the dirt). I spent some time trying to collect on that lifetime guarantee, until I discovered the company was located in Mexico and realized they were never, ever, ever going to return an email. Good way to save money on those pesky warranty claims. So I bought a new shovel, which can be chocked up to Expense #1 Of Many On Which I Had Not Counted.

But I was not deterred.

Day Three (and I pretty much quit counting days after that) was a show-stopper all on its own.

I continued forming the spring and stream bed, carefully avoiding treading on the PVC, which I decided (based on my habit of always postponing unpleasant tasks as long as possible) I would move later. I have a pretty bad back, so I have to take things slowly. Late in the day I found a small pet collar buried eight inches or so below the surface. "Nemo," read the name tag. "Hmm. Wonder how that got here?" Dig, dig, huff, puff, dig, dig....and then....I hit a heavy-duty, black plastic trash bag with something in it. Let's see: Nemo's collar and, a foot away, a loaded trash bag. Not a good combo.

That screeching noise you just heard was digging coming to a very speedy and abrupt halt.

Nemo's final resting place (and, by the way, if the irony of that name is lost on you, you're probably thick, but drop me a line and I'll explain it to you) lay smack in the path of my stream bed. There was no way literally or figuratively to get around it. I hadn't been looking forward to the several extra days' work relocating the sprinkler line would add, but I REALLY wasn't looking forward to relocating Nemo (may he rest in peace, amen).

So I decided to scrap the whole spring/stream plan and switch it to building a berm and constructing a waterfall over Nemo instead. Yeah, I'd lost a couple days' digging, but I'd saved the time and cost involved in relocating the PVC, and Nemo could continue, undisturbed, sleeping with the fishes. (Get it? "Sleeping with the fishes"? Oh, never mind.)

There were several things I didn't consider when making this fateful decision. First, I had no clue whatsoever of the immense amount of extra work, and incredible physical toll it would have on my weak back. Nor did I even think to calculate the skyrocketing expense I was in for in switching from lowly stream to lofty waterfall. If I had, I might have changed my mind and rudely disturbed Nemo's peaceful slumber.

But I also didn't realized how much more beautiful it would all turn out to be. So, in my usual state of ignorant bliss, I plunged ahead made the right decision.

To be continued....


Pavers Out, Pond Marked

With my plan finally gelling, and my work cut out for me, I began digging in earnest. The area where the pond would go is surrounded by oak trees, azaleas, and wisteria. Just beneath the surface of the dirt, kept mostly dry from many years of pavers being in place, was a tough, tangled, fibrous, web of fine roots. It was difficult to dig through and headway was slow. Each shovel-full of dirt, from whatever direction I was digging, had to be thrown back into a pile where the falls' berm would be, covering the sprinkler lines and Nemo once and for all. Digging was hot, slow, filthy, hard, and back-breaking.

Once through the initial surface root system, the digging got a little bit easier for a while. Then, about a foot down, I hit a second system of roots; this time with fewer, but larger, roots about 1"-3" in diameter. These I hacked out with my little, old hatchet (again, right tool: right job), and continued digging.

Finally, about three feet down I hit larger roots, of which there were quite a few. These were up to 5" around, hard as steel, and I had nothing with which to remove them. My cheap, old, long unused, chainsaw quit on me within minutes of being fired up, which was just as well. It would no longer keep the chain tight and I was more than a little concerned it was going to fly off at any moment, separating my flesh from my kneecaps.

I hacked with my little hatchet, and then tried a hacksaw, but I might as well have been using a butter knife.

Then my brother came to the rescue. He loaned me his jigsaw, and I whipped them out in no time. Finally, the right tool for the job! I dug out from around the roots, cutting way back beneath the dirt, so no root would touch the pond liner when it was in place.

By this time many days had passed. In-between my real job, I was working full time on the pond, digging with every spare bit of time and energy I had.

The earth beneath the patio pavers was hard, dry and compacted, but once I passed the third level of roots the digging got easier and I was working with a vengeance, for which my back dearly paid for months to come. Several trips to the chiropractor can be added to the list of expenses on which I had not counted.

Starting to Look Like Something!

I made a trip south to a rock place down in Ocala and purchase my first of many loads of rock, and loaded them up in the back of my faithful, little Honda Element. My friend Sarah went with me, and we selected the four large, flat rocks over which the water would spill, as well as a small assortment of periphery stones.

The relocated pavers and first small load of rock.

Later, I found another rock place, Hillbilly Rock, just north of town, where the rock was much cheaper, the people far more friendly and helpful, and the selection better. By the time it was over with I was on their frequent flier program.

Since I didn't have a wheelbarrow, and didn't want to add yet another large expense to my tally, I hand-carried each rock from my driveway to the back yard. Some were too big to carry, and those I rolled, cringing as they clanked down my sidewalk, hoping they - or the walkway - didn't crack. Smaller rocks I lugged back in a bucket. The three largest rocks I paid someone to carry back for me.

Several weeks later, the berm and pond excavation were nearly completed. I had read the berm needed to settle for quite a while, and I watered it down lightly for many days to hasten the compacting.

I carefully formed the stair-step falls, and pools beneath them. The lovely sound of water is created and enhanced not just by the water itself dropping, but by the hollow behind the falls and the depth of the pool into which it falls. Each overspill of water was carefully planned and the pool beneath it dug deep to create a soothing gurgle. I viewed the falls from many angles in the yard. The the main vantage point would, of course, be poolside, but I wanted it to be aesthetically pleasing from any angle in the yard. I also turned each spillway one way or another just a bit, so that the water did not drop straight down, but rather winded down a bit, adding to the naturalized look I hoped for. The final drop into the pool was a tiny one, just a couple of inches, so that the water spills over gently, not disturbing the surface of the quiet pool.

The edge of the pool itself I dug in an inexact circle, again to make it seem less a man-made "necklace" (as the books all called it) of stones and more as if Nature herself had put it there.


Dumpster Diving

The books also suggested a cushioned layer between the pond liner and the dirt beneath it. You can buy specialized padding from pond stores, but I went dumpster diving out behind a local carpet store for scraps. I'm pretty sure the carpet salesman thought I was a complete nut case, but he humored me anyway I came home with the back of the Element full of somewhat smelly carpet scraps with which I lined the pond hip-deep pond.

By now, a month had gone by, the berm had had time to settle, and I could commence again.

Filling for the first time.

The next step was the only one I didn't do "all by myself." My neighbor, Mike, came over and helped me stretch out the liner. I had calculated the necessary size (13'x20') carefully, measuring dips and hollows, and, though there was extra to be cut away in some areas, I had just barely enough in several others.

Pond Liner in Place and Filled with Water for the First Time

It would have to be drained out again, but together Mike and I watched the pond fill, pushing, pulling and tugging the liner into place, as the weight of the water fitted it into the nooks and crannies of the pond.

I began placing rocks here and there around the feature, both to anchor the liner and let it all settle, as well as get an idea of what would go where and how much more rock I would need. It didn't take long to figure out I was going to need a whole lot more rock, a realization I continued to have anew on multiple occasions throughout the construction. But I was pleased with how it was all taking shape.


The First of MANY bags of mortar

I left the pond filled with water and the stones in place for several days so everything could settle and then I mixed my very first bag of mortar.

I mixed in cement colorants - a combination of rust and black - to naturalize and darken the color from the stark, concrete-gray, mortar. The bags weighed 80 pounds each and, like the stones, I hand carried each one from my car to the construction site. I lost track of how many I ultimately used, but I would estimate 15 - 20.

First Few Stones Set as a Base Beneath the Peripheral Flagstones

I had never worked with mortar and stones before, other than mixing up cement in which to set posts and such. So I began with a little trepidation. The mixing process was, for me, quite difficult, but by the time it was over - several weeks to come - I was slopping it on like an old pro.

I worked day, by day, usually making it through at least one bag of mortar.

I ran out of stones many times and made multiple visits to Hillbilly Rock, where they were always pleased to see me pull in. All told, the rock cost about $700. The liner was about $40.

Every stone was hand-selected. Though some were less important "filler" rocks, harmony in color, and between the types of stone, was critical to an overall natural, woodsy look. Much of the rock is Tennessee Field Stone, some is slate, among others. Many stones were selected for their exact ultimate location already in mind. It would have been cheaper to have utilized the native Florida sandstone, but I did not care for the color or texture in this application

Though far from finished, significant progress has been made.

To be continued....

My pond is in its third year now. After the photograph above, I continued to "rock in" working from the base upward, mortaring in smaller, flat stones, until you can no longer see the liner. This contributed substantially to the cost and work involved but the effect is very natural, as if you happened upon it in the woods and worth the extra expense and effort.

I initially installed a $130 750-gallon-per-hour PondSmart pump with a UV light which kills algae which I purchased from Lowe's. The pump contained a small, on-board filter which, depending upon the time of year, had to be cleaned out once a month or so. The only other routine maintenance is skimming leaves occasionally. Overall, the maintenance is pretty low-key.

Every spring I use a wet/dry shop vac to empty out the contents, and then scrub and refill it. This spring I replaced the original pump which, though it still worked, had slowed considerably. The new pump is 1,000 gph and is almost overkill. It does not contain the UV light so we will see how the algae fairs without it. I also attached a box filter which has added clarity to the water the smaller pump's filter did not offer. Both of these are the Tetra brand and were purchased through Amazon.

I felt the dimensions of the pond were insufficient to comfortably house koi (who also like to devour lily pads) and opted instead for fancy-tail goldfish. They have spawned the past two springs, with a few fry making it past the sushi stage. Other critters of all sorts are drawn to my backyard oasis, including resident bullfrogs, thirsty squirrels, birds of all sorts who also use it to bathe in the gurgling waterfall, and dragonflies who dip into the tranquil surface and hover on the irises.

The pond made a beautiful addition to my home, adding countless hours of joyful peace, and my friends and I have enjoyed it immensely.