The things that Lisa Taft cherishes most in her garden don't have leaves and stems. They wear feathers or fur.
Taft loves the songbirds that arrive every spring and feed each other seeds as part of their mating ritual. She loves the ducks that paddle in her pond, and the foxes with their playful litters of kits that romp like puppies. She even loves the raccoons that occasionally gobble her goldfish, and the deer that nibble her lilies -- although she does try to deter them with a motion-detector sprinkler and Liquid Fence.
"Wildlife is really important to me," she said. "It adds this layer of richness to a garden. It's not just a collection of plants, but an ecosystem."
Her garden, and her know-how, have both grown exponentially during the decade she's lived at her home in New Brighton. But while the garden itself has gotten a lot more ambitious, Taft's mission statement remains a simple one: "I try to keep it natural, to create a little sanctuary for myself, for my family and for the animals," she said.
Taft had no gardening experience when she married her husband, John, in 1999 and moved into the house he'd built several years earlier. "I had never had my own home or land," she said. But plants were in her blood. "Growing up, I remember being strangely fascinated with seed catalogs," she recalled. Later, that interest led her to dabble with orchids and houseplants.
The New Brighton home site offered her a blank slate. It didn't have much in the way of landscaping -- just some turf grass and "industrial-looking rock," she recalled. But it had plenty of potential. There was a heavily wooded area at the back of the lot, and a path through the woods that appeared to be a wildlife corridor. "I grew up in North Oaks, and I never saw wildlife like I do here ... daily, summer and winter," she said. "There was a pretty grove of aspens. It was a perfect site."
She started with a small vegetable garden -- "an ugly, rectangular bed," she said. Then she planted some flowers. Then she created some tiered beds in the back, and an undulating bed in the front. "One thing led to another. Now all I do is expand," she said. "There's a little less grass every year."
Self-taught gardener