Felder's Garden Magic: Fire & Water

Garden magic comes in many forms, but to me having both fire and water in even the smallest patio gardens are essential. We are hard-wired for both.

A garden's are physical elements, from trees, shrubs, vines, flowers, and potted plants to hard features including walks, arbors fences, and seating, occupy most of our attention and efforts, followed by instant gratification activities like planting seasonal annuals, pruning hedges, mowing the lawn, watering potted plants, and raking leaves.

And the rewards are certainly found there. The satisfaction of jobs well done, seeing beautiful shapes and colors and butterflies wafting by and bees working the flowers, smelling flowers, listening to birds singing and tree frogs chirping after a brief evening rain shower, and savoring home-grown veggies and herbs are givens. Even the tactile feelings of sun or a cooling breeze on our arms, or how our feet can detect subtle shifts from stepping from a patio onto the lawn or mulched bed, are all sensual to those who pay attention.

But what brings it down to earth for me are the unnecessary extras, from carefully-selected wind chimes to planting rosemary by the walk so brushing through releases a wonderful bouquet, even the eye-catching colors refracted from my glass bottle trees.

Two of my most-treasured extravagances, which I think too many gardeners put off, are as ancient as they are uncomplicated: My simple water features and a big iron fire bowl just off the back patio. Having them brings opportunistic touches of enchantment.

I long ago decided that digging a hole for a water garden isn't for me; my first attempts at lining hollowed-out holes in the clay with rubber fabric were real chores. Then I realized that a sturdy frame of pressure-treated two-by-six boards could raise the hole and make it easier to level before flopping the liner over the edge and hiding it with flat stones.

But now I just go with large containers, including an antique sugar kettle and a four-foot diameter galvanized metal horse watering trough spray painted to look rusted. Both are set right on top of the ground (no digging required!), then partially hidden with small shrubs, liriope, big stones, driftwood, and seasonal flowers.

I resist the urge to fill them with interesting plants because I could have done that in just dirt; instead, the water itself is an interesting sight; I enjoy just the reflected sky and shimmery waves from the small fountains (which conveniently deters mosquito larvae). I tried keeping little fish in the horse trough, but racoons put an end to that.

Between my deck and one of the water features is my fire bowl, which I enjoy more than I would have thought. My theory for why we are so easily addicted to mindlessly watching TV is that the flickering images conjure thousands of years of our being mesmerized and comforted by dancing flames and winking embers. It could even be said that a fire poker is the forerunner to a TV remote control.

Having fire and water nearly side by side is pure gold on a cool Autumn evening. The steady splash of the fountains subtly soothe city sounds while well-seasoned hardwood logs burn hot and flicker brightly without much smoke or popping embers, making the scene more relaxing without making hair smell like a campfire.

These elements are not necessary for a good garden, any more than sculptures or other garden art. And they have attendant chores, from scattering ashes to dipping out stinky muddy leaf gunk every fall.

But together, in even the smallest gardens, they are what make the magic.