Ponds And Bogs

The Ponds and Bogs at Altamont House, Staten Island

If you live in a village, as I do, you are unlikely to be blessed (or cursed, depending on your temperament) with stagnant pools. But if you are further out in township territory this may be a problem for you.  

 

What are we to do with them? You can try a windmill.  It sounds incongruous, but you see them often on farms oxygenating stagnant ponds.  If you have electricity, you can aerate by adding pumps and filters.  Or you can leave these ponds alone, providing only appropriate plants and animals that can function efficiently as oxygenators -- the practice in conservation areas.  You can then add frogs, goldfish, koi and water plants   The pond will remain clear as long as the proper balance is kept.

 

Although bog plants are described as needing percolating ponds and moving streams, in my years at Altamont House in Staten Island’s High Rock Park they seemed to flourish in still water.  The bogs were originally low-lying areas of meadow and woodland, but suburbanization interrupted the natural drainage patterns permanently, leaving us with self-contained bodies of water—but only during the rainy seasons.  In periods of drought the ponds became bogs, as the natural flow of water into the ocean was interrupted by the houses and roadways developed along the borders of High Rock Park in the post-war years.  

 

The three bog/ponds were handsome, filled with water willow and button bush and not entirely devoid of wildlife.  A mother duck, six ducklings in tow, made the trek daily from pond to pond to introduce her babies to the water.  A pair of Giant Snowy Egrets were considering it as their home base early one season, stayed around for a day or two and then headed out to find a more suitable home.

 

Turtles made their way out of the muddy bottom to lay their eggs in the gravel driveway.  We had to keep our eyes on the ground so that we didn’t tread on the nests.  When the eggs were laid the mothers disappeared, leaving the eggs to fend for themselves.  We marked the site with bricks and twigs so the trash carriers would notice.

Rumor has it that the resident turtles were of the snapping variety. They would usually line up in a row on a log in the middle of the bog, sunning themselves.  Snapping turtles are said to eat anything they can get their jaws around, including baby ducks, but we never saw any sign of that.  

 

I was encouraged enough by the behavior of our waterside plants to give them companions which were said to be equally undemanding.  Milkweed was reported to attract Monarch butterflies and BeeBalm to do the same for hummingbirds.  Large hibiscus flourished in neighboring Walker Pond and I harvested a few seeds at the end the season.  Joe pye-weed, the common skunk cabbage, cardinal flower and blue and yellow flag iris were all plants that did well with their feet in the water.

 

If you are determined to create a bog garden from scratch it’s best to start with a swampy, low-lying spot.  A poorly drained area that is already giving you problems can be transformed into a natural habitat filled with wildlife. The marginal plants (those that grow best in wet soils) will also tolerate periodic dry conditions as well.  Just make sure your site is away from deciduous trees so that you won’t have a leaf-removal problem in the fall.  

 

The instructions below give you details on just how to do this.  Read to the end before you even think of starting. Water gardens can become very seductive but if you find yourself tired from just reading the instructions below, go out and buy a big Chinese ceramic pot, fill it with water and set it in a shady spot. Add a few goldfish.  That may be just enough.

 

Further Notes to The Committed:  How To Build a Bog Garden

 

First, select your spot. Then mark the area with a string, measure it, and calculate the amount of soil that will have to be removed to achieve a minimum depth of eighteen inches. Line the hole with a plastic liner, then lay a length of perforated pipe or hose along the bottom. Seal the submerged end, and make sure the inlet connector is clear of the final soil line and easily accessible so that you can introduce water when needed.

Cover the hose with an inch or two of coarse gravel to make sure the holes don’t become clogged with all that soil you removed and now are going to replace. Before doing so, pierce the plastic liner with a garden fork every few feet. 

 

Replace the soil, removing all weeds and rocks along the way. Make sure the soil is good and loamy, using additives if necessary. The soil will now be higher than its previous level but will settle with watering. Give it time and don’t pack or tamp it down, or you will break up the soil structure. Once the original soil level has been reached, you can start planting.               

 

If your plans are ambitious, your bog garden can be associated with a fishpond, where it will act as a filter. The pond’s nutrient load created by fish wastewater can be recirculated through the bog garden, providing nutrients to the bog plants and cleaner water to the fish.

Why Gardens Matter

Snowdrops

Years before New York City’s high line became the fabled Highline, a close friend who knew how to break into locked spaces took me for a walk along the old railroad tracks. There was something special about being the only people trudging down the abandoned rail line, spotting anything bold enough to sprout to the surface.  We both had a predilection for trespassing despite the risk to our jobs and careers. Maybe it was because the best part of our jobs offered exactly this – the opportunity be where we were not supposed to be.

 

In the Hudson River Valley we have similar almost--empty public spaces.  This past summer I planned to visit public gardens along the Hudson River, expecting to talk to visitors about their particular affection for their choices, only to find most of the gardens empty.  Blithewood and Montgomery Place, two grand estates now Bard College properties, were devoid of visitors on the day I came by. They were as empty as the abandoned old highline railroad tracks.  Perhaps these public gardens are busier on weekends, when visitors are more likely than fulltime residents to take advantage of them. 

 

For families with children a visit to a working farm would to be a better destination than the grand estates. Rose Hill is a favorite stop; fields of apples and pumpkins ready for picking, an airy barn with beautiful views outfitted with tables and chairs for dining, couches and armchairs for drinks offered by the cheery bar, and a revolving pop-up food service hosted by local restaurants and offering bargain-price dinner options.

 

As a child growing up in New York City we had the great public parks and botanical gardens as our backyards and ball fields.  They were carefully planned and beautifully executed to bring the best experience to the largest number of visitors. But it is the small gardens surrounding the village where I live now that matter most when everything else seems lost. 

 

We have been blessed in the Hudson River Valley.  Our towns and villages are not at war or destroyed by flood or fire; our plants will reappear this spring and again year after year, surviving even the possible disappearance of the host garden itself.

 

It is well known that there are wins and losses in everyone’s garden; it is always a battleground between the gardener’s demands and the determined behavior of the elements, the soil, and the plants themselves.  Try as you may to impose your will, the garden either accepts or rejects your efforts. The earliest spring days usually let you know what came through the winter safely and what has been lost.

 

My garden on Livingston Street was planned as an April garden, but when I started to return from the city earlier in the year there was not much to see.  And so in the fall of 2023 we planted hundreds of snowdrops both in the beds and the lawn; when I returned in March of 2024 there was a sea of small white blooms. But it was a gift I forgot to share with the lawn crew, neglecting to ask them to hold off on the mowing for a few weeks to let the bulb foliage ripen; bulbs gain their food supply for the following year in the ripening foliage of the current year.  Supposedly.  We shall see.  This March will be the test. 

 

Looking ahead to June, the hydrangeas blooming are the most glorious weeks in the garden.  I started with one of the earliest, the flatleaf arborescens White Dome. The half-sterile, half-fertile flowers have a more delicate bloom then the blowsy queen of the radiatas, the popular Annabel. The arborescens require only the most judicious pruning.  In the few warm days of February cut them back to knee-high; they will reach the perfect height by the time they are ready to bloom.  If you fall in love with the entire hydrangea family remember their bloom habits vary as will their pruning requirements – some bloom on new wood, others on old.

 

In 2024 the appearance of gypsy moth (renamed spongy moth) in the township sent a shudder through gardeners, but the village seems to have escaped significant damage. We are twiddling our thumbs till spring arrives.  2025 will tell all.