Large worlds in big pots
I may have an inkling of the way God felt on the seventh
day.
They’re not elaborate, but there are two large pots in our
garden filled with water and aquatic plants. The first one we
filled is an enormous
– perhaps 35 gallon – copper kettle. It contains parrot’s
feather and dwarf papyrus. The second is a blue clay pot that
contains a red water lily. In both gardens, oxygenating plants lurk
below the surface, out-competing the algae that would render the
water the color and texture of pea soup.
Large worlds in big pots
I may have an inkling of the way God felt on the seventh day.
They’re not elaborate, but there are two large pots in our garden filled with water and aquatic plants. The first one we filled is an enormous – perhaps 35 gallon – copper kettle. It contains parrot’s feather and dwarf papyrus. The second is a blue clay pot that contains a red water lily. In both gardens, oxygenating plants lurk below the surface, out-competing the algae that would render the water the color and texture of pea soup.
But there’s more to water gardening than water and a garden.
Our first garden – the one in the copper pot – demanded a supply of goldfish, according to one of our then-young daughters. The fish quickly grew. The largest was a beautiful calico mix of deep orange, red, black and white. It grew to nearly six inches before its gaudy scales caught the attention of something – we suspect a belted kingfisher that used to frequent the neighborhood – and it disappeared.
That left just two fish. One of them, a jet-black specimen, is so secretive that we did not know it was still around. Then the bowl shivered with dozens of baby fish – all jet black.
But it’s not the things we put into the bowls on purpose that remind me of Creation. It’s the things that appear in these tiny worlds without our prior consent or invitation. Water snails or their eggs hitchhiked in on the plants, apparently. Other creatures – damselfly and dragonfly larvae, I think – scoot around inside the tiny lakes. Songbirds enjoy the bowls, as do crows and pigeons.
More than the rest of our garden, the water gardens evolve, bringing to us what blows in on the wind, or what is carried on wings. They are a chance to watch the dynamic world of a natural pond much more closely.
Creating such a universe is simplicity itself. We sought out pots without drain holes. The clay pot was glazed inside as well as out. With the clay pot, I added several inches of garden soil, stuck in the water lily tuber, topped it all with pea gravel to keep the soil anchored, and slowly filled it with water. Plants in the copper pot sit in pots, the better to be raised and lowered as they grow and shrink with the seasons. After the water sat for a time, shedding its load of chlorine and coming to temperature, a film of algae formed on the pot walls. Time for goldfish. The fish we added are hardly sporting pedigrees. We bought those that pet stores appear to stock for the purposes of feeding larger, more aggressive fish.
They come home in small, water-filled baggies. We floated the baggies gently in the bowl until temperature equalized, opened the top, and watched them wriggle out.
The fish now are self-sustaining. Without too many fish in a space, they seem to thrive on neglect. Too many fish invites too much nitrogen, which in turn invites algae, which in turn leads to that pea-soup result. I still like to pitch food in, just to watch the fish rise to the surface.
Living in a temperate desert, it is our tiny oases that create the most peaceful corners of our garden, and that invite the small wild things living in suburbia to share space with us.
There’s a wealth of information in books at all our local libraries. Creating your own waterworld is just a few hours away.
