Give the country life a try for a few weeks At first glance the site did not appear very promising. Rake and shovel in hand, we had travelled on the bus five hours north from Toronto to investigate a piece of land – a place to garden – that we had heard about from a friend.Hitching, then walking the last few miles in, we turned the final corner to find a flat field hip-high in seedy hay grass, some scrubby chokecherries crusted with black knot and a few leaning fence posts looped with rusty wire. Only a stand of tall lilacs and a grove of half wild apple trees suggested that there had once been a garden here.From a gardener's point of view, it's what lies under the surface that matters. Digging through the tangled thatch of grass roots we came up with handfuls of gritty sod so dry it flowed through our fingers like sand in an hourglass. Not the crumbly chocolate cake loam we were hoping for, but then again it was July of a dry season after all – and better sand than unyielding clay. Besides, didn't our old gardening books say that any soil, whatever its present state, could be brought around to good texture and fertility? The land needed humus, compost, organic matter – and lots of it.Still, as eager as we were for more space in which to garden, we were hesitant about making the move from city to country; the change would be sudden and complete. Heading back on the bus, we happened to sit beside a woman who said just what we needed to hear to tip the balance. "Why not give it a try for a year? You're not burning any bridges. If you don't like country life you can always go back." Good advice, and timely. A few weeks later a relative hauled us back with a few belongings, the most important being a second-hand rototiller. His encouraging last words? "You'll never make it here."That was in 1975 and our gardening experience to date had been tending two city vegetable gardens one season each but this was enough to convince us that we were gardeners at heart. Our original intention was simply to grow a big organic food garden, a source of unsprayed vegetables and fruit that reflected our interest in eating for health. For several years we did grow only edibles, all the while tilling and raking out heaps of wiry twitch grass roots that ran all through the field. As much as we grumbled about this tenacious plant, we came to appreciate that the dense weave of twitch roots had helped to preserve the light ground from wind erosion. Every creature, it seems, has its place and purpose. The principles of organic gardening One of the first principles of organic gardening is: feed the soil, not the plants. Taking that advice to heart, we set about socking the cow manure, compost, rotted leaves, swamp muck and spoiled hay to this sandy ground. Not too much all at once – the aim was to feed the soil, not stuff it so full of organic matter that the soil organisms could not assimilate it all – a kind of earthy indigestion. But every season, spring and fall, generous and consistent applications of organic matter have turned the pale, dry ground visibly darker and loamier, certainly more fertile and moisture retentive. Summer mulches left to rot back into the ground add to its organic stores. Of all the variables in a garden, the soil is the most amenable to change – for better or worse.With space and (eventually) time to spare, we began to explore and discover new horticultural horizons: a few hardy fruit trees were planted; raspberries, currants, gooseberries, asparagus all found a place. Before long we were discovering the pleasures of fresh herbs for seasoning: tarragon for salad dressings and lovage to toss with stir-fried vegetables; savory and homegrown garlic to mince into steamed green beans; handfuls of fresh dill, chives and parsley for coleslaw and potato salad; and basil and lemon thyme in anything. Not to forget fresh green peppermint, lemon balm, sweet cicely and bergamot for the teapot."If you have two coins," says a Chinese proverb, "buy bread with one and daffodils with the other, for bread feeds the body, but daffodils feed the soul." Inevitably our garden path turned flowery. Given the rigors of central Ontario winters – occasional spells of, 20F (-30C) temperatures and a crushing depth of snow – many familiar shrubs and vines either struggle along or fail outright. Even forsythia, so ubiquitous farther south, blooms rather oddly here – yellow only below a distinct horizontal line that marks the winter's snow level. No wonder, then, that we turned for colour and blossoms to herbaceous perennials, hardy bulbs and alpines – plants adapted by nature to live through a full-blown northern winter. Here we found such a wide field of discovery, so much beauty and creative challenge, that we have been cultivating perennials with a passion ever since.Our flower gardens were not planned as a whole from the start. Rather, they evolved gradually along with our interest in perennials and an expanding plant collection. Beds that once grew potatoes or strawberries gave way to peonies, irises and lilies – a reasonable progression since the soil had already benefited from several seasons of digging and delving to clear out perennial weeds and turn in organic fertilizers for the tubers and berries. A curving border dug along the east side of the lilacs provided the garden's only shady comer for primroses, lungworts, dogtooth violets, bloodroots and others. Favourite flowers and herbs for the garden More practical but just as lovely is a hedge of rugosa roses, many of them Canadian bred. The hedge not only buffered the vegetable garden from chilly winds but seemed like such a perfect border backdrop that we were soon setting out stripling Siberian irises, painted daisies, balloon flowers, more lilies and an edging of 40 or more Allwood's pinks broken at intervals by clumps of dwarf catmint. A special treat for sight and smell, the pinks (Dianthus spp.) were all raised from two packets of seed – a real floral bargain – and no two were alike.Pinks thrive in sweet (limed) sandy soil in full sun – and that is just what we have to work with. From the start we resolved to fill the garden with plants suited to our site, soil and climate. For example, summers are often dry here, and we do all of our watering by hand. Ever on the lookout for drought-proof perennials, we give lots of border room to silver-leaved plants and herbs:• Artemisias, especially the elegant 'Lambrook' silver variety of A. absynthium;• Yarrows or Achilleas of all kinds including 'Moonshine' (our favourite) and the new colours of A. millefolium;• Mulleins or Verbascum, seldom seen but striking silver giants (unfortunately biennial) that light up with yellow flowers in summer. We have both a Greek and Turkish mullein, and now a spontaneous cross between the two that we're calling Verbascum 'Larkwhistle';• Wooly lamb's ears (Stachys byzantium), two prominent patches in place for almost a decade at the front of a long border;• Thymes in variety, including fragrant lemon thyme and grey wooly thyme that tumble over warm limestone rocks that edge several beds.For hungrier and thirstier plants - roses, peonies, delphiniums, aconites, clematis, phlox, helenium among them -- we often prepare a special zone of fertility. This entails digging a hole deep and wide, removing subsoil altogether and backfilling with topsoil thoroughly mixed with crumbly old cow manure, peat moss, compost, bone meal and the like. Then, as a neighbour remarked after watching us go to these lengths only to tuck in a skinny slip of a peony root, "It's not your fault if it doesn't grow." But of course things do grow because they can't help growing if we do a little homework, find out what conditions the plants need and then do what we can to make them feel at home in the garden.From the moment the snow curtain is lifted in spring until a fall freeze-up puts an end to the season, the flowerbeds and borders are a constant source of pleasure and interest. The perennials become friends that we welcome back each year, observing and encouraging their growth and changes. From late May until November and beyond, the vegetable garden continues to yield a daily harvest of superb food. What more could we ask for? Willingly we give our energy, care and love to a garden that has become our home; the garden responds in kind with generous gifts of colour, fragrance and natural beauty nourishment for body and soul.