My Bit of Ireland in the Tropics: Dry Stone Walls

My friend Tammy tells people that in Hawaii Evelyn is building Irish stone walls. Well, maybe I am. From the first time I witnessed them, Ireland's stone walls have captivated me, and, as I continue to construct stone walls on my own property, there have been multiple moments of conscious acknowledgement on my part that they may be a wee bit like the the ones in Ireland.

Before writing this post, I decided to Google "Irish stone walls," and here is what I learned about one of Ireland's distinctive landscape features: "It is estimated that the Irish countryside is a patchwork of over 250,000 miles of stone wall. Because the land in many parts of Ireland is naturally very stony, in order to be farmed, it had to be cleared of these stones. Since there was no easy method of getting rid of stones and there was a need to create separate divisions of the land, the obvious thing to do was to build walls."

In addition to a long held affinity for Irish stone walls (beginning with my very first visit in 1993), I relate to a couple points found within the Irish motivation to build stone walls. (1) My property is markedly "stony"; indeed, it is predominantly lava "bye-products" atop of even more lava. (2) There is no easy way to get rid of the stones...and I actually rather like my stones and have wanted to keep them.

During that cursory research of Irish stone walls, I also discovered the term that describes my type of walls--dry stone walls--the traits of dry stone walls, and their reason for being: "At their simplest these walls are easily built. Boulders are piled on top of each other, often with the largest ones at the base and the boulders getting smaller towards the top, though sometimes this is a subtle thing at best and the stones seem much the same size throughout."

Right now I will confess that my modus operandi fits 'this is a subtle thing at best.'

The description continues with these points:

• These walls are built without any tools and with no mortar--the stone is not cut, though it may be broken--whatever stones are available are made to fit as well as possible. [TRUTH, although I do not break stones unless it happens without concerted effort by me.]

• The walls are often quite low and not very stable; they constantly need to be repaired by replacing fallen stones, a task which farmers still undertake regularly. [Yep, not overly stable, and I do reparation sweeps of the yard periodically.]

• However, paradoxically, it is their very instability that makes them good barriers, as livestock who are reared in the area are wary of trying to cross them, having learned from experience that they collapse rather easily, dropping heavy stones (painfully) on them. [Since my only livestock are feral chickens and stray cats, I have little experience with this virtue of dry stone walls.]

• Some of the fields surrounded by these walls have no gates; the wall is simply disassembled to allow entry or exit and then rebuilt. [Although entry/exit is not one of my issues, I have disassembled and reassembled portions of my wall because I continue to uncover more rocks, and my wall-building skills have improved.]

When I first moved into my house, though, the only visible rocks in the yard were several large boulders placed for "landscaping purposes"(think "curb appeal") to aid in the selling of the place. All the rocks that comprise my stone walls still rested, well concealed, under a shallow layer of gravel--also spread across certain areas for "landscaping purposes"--or a rusty colored, coarse-grained dirt. When I attempted to plant a few bushes, I quickly encountered an entrenched population of rocks. Thus began my excavation of the property and the commencement of rock walls, two endeavors that continue to this day.

This photo--meant to document the catchment tank in my backyard--shows the way the backyard looked when I moved in. Can you see any black lava rocks anywhere? You cannot. At that time I did not have a clue about what really lay below the surface of things.

Now here, maybe around nine months in to this home-owning gig, the wall has begun. Actually there were some shelves of lava rock just below that rusty-red surface that were not broken and leveled to create the foundation space for the house. You can see them incorporated into the emerging rock wall on the left and in the back. 

And these photos show my backyard dry stone walls as of this month:

Dry stone walls with orchids and hibiscus.

Indeed, I have not neglected stone wall construction in my front yard either, but I shall unfold that landscaping story on another day in a different post...perhaps one titled "How Lava Rock Dictates Landscape Design."

And for my own purposes, I shall conclude with the final stanzas of a poem by Patrick Galvin titled "The Wall" because, in the end, stone walls for me will ever hold this enduring, mystical aura:

You could measure the light

By the wall.

And

if you stood close to the wall

You could hear the Earth moving

The stars burning

And the sun

Sinking

Slowly

Into a folding sea.

You could measure the dark

By the wall.

My Hawaiian Life, part 3

Lehua bloom on the ohia tree in my front yard.

Wild orchid, one of many that grow wild on the borderlands of my yard.

Torch ginger bloom, located in the vacant lot on one side of my yard.

Gardenia bloom from the bush in my front yard.

Last October while perusing a local newspaper, I stumbled across an article about the Master Gardener Program at the University of Hawaii, Hilo, with an email address for those interested in application information. Well, that described me.

 I knew when I bought my house and moved to Hawaii that I would spend time working outside in the yard. I just never anticipated how much time! I head outside to putter and/or labor for an hour or two, and then four hours have elapsed. I really enjoy that time, too--the exploration, the discovery, the creativity, and the therapy. Combine all that with my smidgen of previous knowledge regarding growing stuff, an even larger portion of growing/gardening things that I have kinda sorta heard mentioned or read about in passing, and a quantum of stuff I know nothing about--especially for the tropics--except that I was certain it existed, and my interest in a Master Gardener Program is manifest!

I wrote an email requesting the application for the 2020 program, completed it and sent it into digital space, and heard nothing until December. At that time I received notification that an interview would be required as part of the continuing application process. I complied and again heard nothing until the second week of January, a week before classes would commence. I had been accepted!

Master Gardener Programs (also know as Extension Master Gardener Programs) are volunteer programs that train individuals in the science and art of gardening. These individuals then pass on the information learned during training as volunteers who advise and educate the public on gardening and horticulture.  In the USA, Master Gardener Programs are affiliated with land-grant universities and their cooperative extension service offices. (The University of Hawaii has programs on Kauai, Oahu, Maui, and two in Hawaii--east and west sides.) Master Gardeners are active in all fifty US states and in eight Canadian provinces.

During that first class in January, I quickly realized that compared to my classmates I ranked low--maybe even the bottom--for previous gardening knowledge/experience and science/horticulture background, but hey, I had desire and motivation in my corner! I also learned that not everybody who applied was accepted, so there's that.

And since then, every Wednesday morning, we Master Gardener interns (the name badge we are requested to wear has "intern" plainly printed underneath our names) attend class for three hours where we are regaled by professors and specialists located in various places across the Hawaiian islands, all affiliated with the University of Hawaii and/or the Hawaii Department of Agriculture or the Hawaii Department of Land and Resource Management, and all flown in for their presentations for us in the flesh--until two weeks ago. Now we all attend via Zoom, and we students view our presenters in their "natural habitat."

Overall, the quality of both presenter and presentation has been top-notch. And who knew you could have a PhD in soil?! (Now that guy was the absolute best presenter; with him elucidating the traits, histories, and potentials of soils, the topic became riveting.)

On two Friday mornings, we had labs. For the one in January, we went into the forest and learned how to identify rapid ohia death. (Ohia trees are endemic to Hawaii and usually the first to grow on new lava flows.) In February, we had a propagation lab in the the Master Gardener greenhouse on campus and each of us created our own starts by seeds, leaf cuttings, and stem cuttings to take home. (UPDATE: Only three of my six stem cuttings are still among the living. Despite my poor showing with my original leaf cuttings, which all propagated absolutely nothing, I have started three new leaf cuttings on my own and so far so good. Who knows what happened to the seeds I started in the lab, but they didn't sprout. To my credit, I have grown cilantro from seeds in the meantime!) We were supposed to have a grafting lab the first Friday in April after our Wednesday lecture, but only the lecture--via Zoom, of course--has transpired at this point.

Every Wednesday since that very first class, I leave each session amazed once more at what new pieces were revealed to the panorama of knowledge I have of this place where I live. Here are some of my favorites:

• Hawaii, the most isolated island chain on the planet, has only native species--endemic or indigenous-- that arrived by wind, wings, or waves; they were either champion swimmers, yacht racers, or balloonists. Hence, Hawaii has a relatively low diversity of native species but the highest rate of edemism, or native and found nowhere else. Hawaii flora is 91% endemic. Indigenous species are native but found other places. The sea turtle is the only native reptile. Forty-five percent of endangered US species are in Hawaii. 

• Alien species arrived with human assistance, some good, some ultimately invasive. "Canoe plants" journeyed over with the native Hawaiians and included coconut, papaya, taro, bananas, and plumeria. Thirty-four flora and fauna were introduced to Hawaii by native Hawaiians. 

• Sorry, but I, myself, am incapable of making the topic of soil riveting, but I now know that the soil I deal with in my yard is derived from lava (certainly no surprise), dominantly composed of coarse materials with minimal clay, is excessively well drained with low water retention and definitely acidic (due to high rainfall), and it has low nutrient supply capacity with only a fine fraction of it rich in organic matter. 

• One must be aware of a plant's required light needs because Hawaii's hours of daylight, to include twilight, range from 11 hours and 16 minutes to 13 hours and 50 minutes. (By the way, Hawaii has standard time all year round, no switching...because what's the point?!) The closer one is to the equator, the more equal the amounts of light and dark become. There are seasonal plants thriving on the USA mainland partially because of the up to 16 hours of summertime daylight, so in Hawaii--like if one wants to grow corn--one needs to find a "short day" variety.

• Although the grafting lab remains on hold, the lectures on pruning and grafting seriously resonated with me and not solely for their use in garden cultivation. As the lectures unfolded, the metaphorical connections of scriptural analogies to pruning and grafting re-emerged in my mind's eye with stunning clarity and emotional intensity. 

Classes conclude later this month, and although I hardly feel very masterful yet in my capacity as a gardener, I have learned to see and understand this land where I live with new vision, greater appreciation, and enhanced awe.