A Storyteller’s Garden
unveiling magic, one chapter at a time
Design credits:
home of Jay Sifford
designed by Jay Sifford, Sifford Garden Design
With a cantankerous green-winged macaw, a Moluccan cockatoo that “spoke in tongues,” a sweet (unless hormonal) eclectus parrot, a basset hound called Georgia Mae, and a grand piano to find a home for—Jay Sifford wasn’t the typical house hunter. But as his realtor, Jay’s mom understood his needs better than most and decided to take a gamble when she showed him a rundown house on a steeply sloping wooded lot. Jay immediately felt a connection to the tree-top home, which reminded him of a mountain cabin, and in 1998 he moved in. After a few years focused on remodeling the interior, Jay finally turned his attention to the exterior, with neither a plan nor a vision. Originally there weren’t even steps up the steep slope to the front door, and the landscape was an obstacle course of dilapidated railroad ties, sticky red mud, and endless liriope. And then there were the deer—up to thirteen every day.
Until moving to this garden Jay knew little about deer. Not only was their voracious appetite for his favorite hostas, coral bells, and hydrangeas an unwelcome surprise, but so was their habit of rutting, with young trees snapped in half and many others left disfigured. The learning curve was almost as steep as the land, and Jay discovered by painful trial and error which plants were reasonably deer-resistant. Although a deer fence would solve the problem, it wasn’t a practical solution since that would have meant installing an 8-foot-tall gate across the steep driveway (local codes set a limit of 6 feet), and the hilly terrain posed a significant challenge. And deer weren’t the only visitors. Squirrels and chipmunks frequently created mischief, as did the skunks, which dug up all Jay’s newly planted shrubs—every day for thirty days—before eventually growing tired of their game.
Dealing with wildlife was not the only challenge. Gardening on a slope meant learning about erosion control and water runoff. Failures were common as Jay learned to interpret the subtle nuances of shade cast by the canopy of beech (Fagus grandifolia) and sweetgum (Liquidambar styraciflua) and tested plants in an effort to follow basic plant tag information, which seldom went beyond stating a plant’s preference for sun or shade. North Carolina’s high humidity further complicated the selection of appropriate plants; rarely do nursery tags tell the gardener whether a plant can take high humidity, or if it will simply melt away in a diseased puddle by mid-August.
Setting the tone: besides matching the colors of the surrounding foliage, the various forms of a totem pole by local artist Kimberly Tyrrell pique one’s curiosity and invite interpretation.
The front entry garden is brightened by a chartreuse smokebush (Cotinus coggygria ‘Golden Spirit’), a soft peach and green variegated sycamore maple (Acer pseudoplatanus ‘Eskimo Sunset’), and the last few blooms of a peony (Paeonia ‘Kopper Kettle’).
The gravel path serves as a negative space, somewhere for the eye to rest amid the tapestry of color and texture.
To gain a better understanding of the elements that go into designing a cohesive landscape, Jay began watching gardening programs on television, gaining “just enough knowledge to be dangerous.” But his real inspiration came from books. The Inward Garden (Bunker Hill Publishing, 1995) by Julie Moir Messervy was perhaps the most influential, encouraging readers to consider both the natural world and the contemplative spirit within, a philosophy that resonated deeply with Jay. Another firm favorite is From Art to Landscape (Timber Press, 2010) by W. Gary Smith, which discusses how to combine the essential character of a place with one’s innermost creative spirit. As a psychology major with an interest in philosophy and contemporary art, Jay never imagined that he would one day put all those qualities to use as a landscape designer. In fact, he hesitates to call himself a designer at all, preferring to be known as an artist, magician, storyteller, and horticulturalist—in that order. Rather than seeking credit for designing this intriguing garden, Jay feels his role has been to reveal the stories it wanted him to tell, and he recommends exploring the garden with a childlike sense of wonder and imagination. Over time he has created several garden rooms within this botanical wonderland, likening each to one of the sidewalk chalk drawings in Mary Poppins. Every space becomes a magical new reality for the adventurous travelers as they step inside. All are designed to be experienced and savored at a leisurely pace, fully engaging the senses while encouraging discovery and personal interpretation.
The half-acre lot drops away dramatically into a creek, leaving the home perched like a treehouse high above the forest floor with every window and deck offering a vista of thought-provoking art installations amid abundant plantings. As Jay’s appreciation for blue-needled conifers grew, he decided to repaint the home a deep steel-gray, accented with a light blue chimney and burgundy trim, effectively connecting the home to the landscape. The deer-resistant plant palette has been selected for year-round interest, anchored by assorted conifers and other evergreens (edgeworthia, sarcococca, yellow anise); deciduous trees and shrubs are included to celebrate the change of the seasons. Daylilies are one of the few flowers; Jay enjoys their fleeting blooms and accepts occasional taste-testing by the resident herd.
The original struggling, shady front lawn has been replaced by a wide gravel path flanked by colorful foliage plants in a new front entry garden. This path is up to 8 feet wide in places, to accommodate plantings that spill beyond their allotted boundaries. Shallow steps along its course force a slower pace, a deliberate strategy to engage visitors in their surroundings, reinforced by the pea gravel that shifts underfoot. The front entry garden displays the most vibrant plant selection with chartreuse, burgundy, and variegated foliage mingling with shades of blue and green. As one moves into the more secluded, shadier spaces, brighter colors are edited out, until finally, in the outermost meditation circle, color is reduced to its purest essence—that of light.
The path then sweeps under the feathery green archway of a weeping bald cypress (Taxodium distichum ‘Cascade Falls’) with steps down into a conifer amphitheater, a natural depression that showcases Jay’s ever-expanding collection of choice conifers that thrive in the fertile soil, enriched over many years with leaf mold. Beyond an ancient boulder one steps onto a Japanese yatsuhashi boardwalk, painted a traditional Chinese red and a key focal point in the landscape. From this vantage point one can look out onto the fern glen and creek and catch glimpses of the light garden in the distance.
Closer to the house, at the end of the driveway, a tiered waterfall and koi pond have been carved into the hillside. This was the first garden project to be undertaken, piquing the interest of neighbors, fellow gardeners, and eventually garden tours. Steep bluestone steps to one side lead to the home’s entrance. The modest width of the path encourages a slower pace, as visitors find themselves brushing up against the glossy leaves of Japanese aralia (Fatsia japonica), or treading with care to avoid an errant stem of strawberry saxifrage (Saxifraga stolonifera) that creeps between the steps. Continuing a little farther uphill, above the uppermost waterfall, one passes through antique Chinese doors to a small, shaded outdoor room where a red Chippendale bench invites one to pause; this upper woodland garden is the highest point on the property. The most recent garden to be created is the light garden, a meandering pathway through the forest that celebrates sunlight and shadows, and serves as an outdoor gallery for several metal sculptures, culminating in a circular meditation garden.
A weeping bald cypress (Taxodium distichum ‘Cascade Falls’) marks the transition from the upper front entry garden into the conifer amphitheater. An installation of red bamboo by glass artist Jesse Kelly accentuates the portal.
Jay insists his garden is fairly low-maintenance, the primary chore being managing leaf litter in fall, his aversion to noisy leaf blowers necessitating the use of a rake. Lack of irrigation also means that he spends time watering, “with a glass of wine in one hand and a hose in the other.” How long does he water? “By the time I’ve had three glasses, we’re all good!” To Jay’s surprise, neither the deer nor the terrain proved to be the greatest challenge in the end; the real hill to climb was figuring out how he related to the land, and in the process, he became a completely different person. Jay’s discerning eye for detail and horticultural artistry have resulted in him becoming a designer much sought-after by those wishing to experience transformative magic in their own gardens. Clearly he has transcribed the untold stories of this land into an engaging book that captivates the imagination of all who care to read it.
A Norway spruce (Picea abies ‘Big Wave’) is combined with coral bells (Heuchera ‘Venus’) and a mounding Japanese white pine (Pinus parviflora ‘Tanima-no-yuki’); a Rocky Mountain juniper (Juniperus scopulorum ‘Tolleson’s Blue Weeping’) drapes overhead, creating a striking monochromatic medley.
Front Entry Garden
After removing the sparse, sun-deprived lawn, Jay planted an extensive collection of specimen Japanese maples and conifers on either side of a wide gravel path, transforming the front garden from predictable to remarkable. Foliage in shades of blue and burgundy predominate, accented by several golden conifers, including a shore juniper (Juniperus conferta ‘Golden Pacific’) and an oriental spruce (Picea orientalis ‘Skylands’). Many of the conifers display distinctive weeping or prostrate forms, and Jay readily admits there are far more specimen conifers in this small space than he would ever introduce in a client’s garden, yet it works. “I like trees that have elevated arthritis to an art form,” he says of their gnarled, contorted shapes. “They unlock people’s imagination.” Indeed, the undulating, prostrate Big Wave Norway spruce (P. abies ‘Big Wave’) suggests a sea creature, or perhaps a giant green spider, stealthily maneuvering its way across the garden in search of unsuspecting prey. This garden challenges the mind to rethink preconceived ideas of what a tree might look like, what Jay describes as a “metaphorical cleansing of the mind” before entering into the other areas of the garden.
The branches of the weeping bald cypress (Taxodium distichum ‘Cascade Falls’) are selectively trimmed to create a scrim effect.
Several large rustic containers punctuate the plantings, their perceived age adding to the sense of history, while the colors of the ceramic glazes echo the surrounding foliage. To enhance the experience and encourage interaction, one frequently has to brush rogue branches or tendrils aside in order to pass. Stepping through the archway created by a weeping bald cypress one has to part the trailing strands of feathery leaves that hang like a beaded curtain, creating a sense of anticipation upon entering the conifer amphitheater, which serves as a transitional space in the journey to the Asian-inspired boardwalk. Although this garden has color year-round, Jay enjoys it most in spring when the Japanese maples (Acer palmatum) first leaf out; from deep burgundy (‘Rhode Island Red’) through delicate greens (Dissectum Viride Group) to vivid pink variegation (‘Hana-matoi’), there is always something new to marvel at.
Thankfully deer seem to prefer an easier route down to the fern glen rather than bushwhacking their way through the closely planted conifers and thorny barberries that line the drive; their browsing is usually limited to some daylilies, which quickly regrow, but their careless jumping did damage an espaliered fence of weeping blue Atlas cedars (Cedrus atlantica ‘Glauca Pendula’) recently. Jay is also careful to keep tender hostas and coral bells away from the preferred trails of passing deer so as not to pique their interest.
The conifer amphitheater showcases many of Jay’s favorite specimen conifers; a Hana-matoi Japanese maple in a low, curvaceous bowl adds a focal point at the edge of the path.
Conifer Amphitheater
There was a danger, as with all plant collections, that this area could become a disparate jumble of individual, personality-rich specimens. To avoid this, Jay created a sense of unity by repeating key colors, textures, and forms. Smaller boulders were hand-carried into the area to expand the stonework, and swaths of intensely fragrant Cheddar pinks (Dianthus gratianopolitanus ‘Firewitch’) were woven through the conifer display, their neon-pink flowers adding an unforgettable note of cloves to the spring air. Several ground-hugging Golden Pacific shore junipers have also been used to carpet the space.
Sadly, two rare, highly prized weeping cultivars of Norway spruce (Picea abies ‘Cobra’) were lost from this area as a result of deer damage. In fact, Jay has noticed that the deer seem to be especially drawn to rutting on Norway spruce and blue Atlas cedars (Cedrus atlantica), which is unfortunate since they are two of his favorite conifers. Yet with seventy-five Japanese maples and more than twice as many conifers, he cannot adequately barricade the plants to protect against such winter damage and has accepted there will always be some losses.
Painted Chinese red, the distinctive zigzag boardwalk culminates in a small deck, cantilevered over the forest floor, the centerpiece of the fern glen.
Fern Glen
The bench at the end of the Japanese yatsuhashi boardwalk is Jay’s favorite spot in the entire garden. Whether savoring the morning solitude or a last glass of wine, it is here that he feels the greatest connection to the land as he watches the ever-shifting patterns of dappled light and shadow. This is the lowest point on the property, representative of a place of humility and submission, a restorative setting where Jay “feels an infusion of creative energy.”
It is also an area rich in stories that Jay loves to hear and share. Diminutive army figures, long since lost by previous generations of children, tell of simpler times, while initials carved into the smooth gray bark of a beech tree make one wonder what became of their professed love. One cannot but feel humbled by the majestic trees towering overhead or be awed by the passage of time suggested by the lichen-encrusted boulders that pepper the ground beneath them. Many people urged Jay to carve paths through the trees and build bridges over the creek, yet he felt that would be intruding on this sacred space; so he built the zigzag boardwalk, cantilevered over the forest floor, where he might observe and listen to the sights and sounds of the forest without disturbing the flora and fauna creating them. The deep, resonant toll of oversized windchimes suspended high above the boardwalk adds to the meditative ambience.
A seedling of mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum), a North American native, pushes up through the leaf mold beside a silvery Ghost fern (Athyrium ‘Ghost’). Both are reliably deer-resistant.
A new chapter in the story of the fern glen begins.
Three and a half years ago this area was a tangled mess of poison ivy, English ivy, and honeysuckle that obscured the creek and choked the land. Jay methodically cleared the weeds and removed almost a hundred young beech saplings that were overcrowding the space, while limbing up the remaining trees as far as his pole pruners would reach to allow more light to penetrate. To date he has added some forty species of ferns, almost twelve hundred plants in total, in addition to native shrubs and various deer-resistant perennials, all of which are thriving in the dappled shade.
Designing a garden with so many ferns took considerable thought and planning. The more typical groups of three or even seven plants would be lost in such a vast, open space, which instead calls for much larger drifts. Jay also needed to pay careful attention to the small details that made each fern distinct. He assessed four key characteristics: size, shape, color, and texture. When considering whether or not to place two ferns next to one another, he looked for a pleasing balance between similarity and contrast. If all four criteria were the same, the combination would be unremarkable; when two or more aspects differed, a sense of cohesion balanced with visual interest was achieved. The focus is on texture rather than a kaleidoscope of colors. In such a shady environment, the subdued palette relies on gradations of green; the coppery new growth of autumn ferns introduces a different note in spring, and silver Japanese painted ferns (Athyrium niponicum var. pictum) add subtle contrast. Included in the glen are several evergreen ferns for winter interest, including autumn fern (Dryopteris erythrosora), tassel fern (Polystichum polyblepharum), and the native Christmas fern (P. acrostichoides), which Jay transplanted from other areas of his woodland. The latter has proven to be one of the most reliably drought-tolerant varieties.
Once considered an unbuildable lot with a significant creek rushing through it, the stream that runs through the fern glen is now a mere shadow of its former self, having being rerouted when neighboring homes were built. In accordance with Asian philosophy, Jay installed a series of stone pillars along the creek to act as protectors of this much-diminished life source; they also have the practical advantage of improving the creek’s visibility when viewed from above. Deer visit the glen daily yet do little damage other than trampling a few fern fronds. A newborn fawn was discovered by chance, bedded down in the Christmas ferns and still moist from birth—a humbling moment for Jay as he appreciated anew that he is merely the steward of this land, not its owner.
Mounted on a slender stone pillar, a bronze sculpture by Pavel Efremoff marks the start of the journey into the light garden. Golden sedge (Carex oshimensis EverColor ‘Everillo’) evokes and catches rays of sunlight; spheres appear to roll downhill.
Light Garden
What began as a heavily eroded wasteland of dead trees and invasive weeds is now a remarkable garden featuring a serpentine, dry-stacked Tennessee stone wall, several bronze and steel sculptures, and a meditation circle. Yet the real story is contrast: dark with light, hard with smooth. Jay originally designed the light garden to be viewed from inside the home, but he revised the plan by adding a walking path. Columnar yew plum pines (Podocarpus macrophyllus var. maki) act as sentries, their dark green-needled foliage casting figurative shadows over mondo grass (Ophiopogon japonicus); pools and strips of golden sedge mimic the movement of the sun across the western sky.
A sculpture of a twirling dancer by Benjamin Parrish signals the terminus of the light garden path.
Weathered granite and clipped boxwood spheres appear to roll down the hillside toward the creek, suggesting an abandoned game of marbles played by unseen giants. The illusion of movement is created by the careful placement of these spheres as they cross the main axial pathway. In fact, spheres are a repeating element throughout the property, a link that brings a subtle sense of cohesion to the series of otherwise distinct garden rooms. The meandering pathway of hammered hardwood mulch blends with the forest yet facilitates easy strolling, drawing the garden visitor from the industrial sculpture at the entrance to the life-size pirouetting dancer at its end. From here one steps down into a gravel meditation circle, a pared-down space furnished with a simple stone stool, a granite sphere, and “Uaundo,” a metal sculpture by local artist Jim Weitzel.
The light garden ends with a meditation circle.
Although the light garden is always beautiful, Jay’s favorite time of year in it is in early April when the trees are just leafing out, their fresh green a celebration of new life. Although well traveled by deer, the resident wildlife does little damage here—except for the squirrels, who insist on digging up the mondo grass. For now, Jay goes along with their game and continues to replant it on a regular basis.
Upper Woodland Garden
For this space, Jay was inspired to create a deconstructed room, with doors, walls, floor, and ceiling represented by hardscape or plant material. It is not fully enclosed: Jay believes that leaving some elements out engages the mind and allows the visitor to personalize the experience. The Chinese doors through which one enters are around a hundred years old. Originally, they would have been much taller, but skilled craftsmen cut them down and affixed reproduction hardware to reimagine them for modern-day application. Jay applies linseed oil twice a year as a preservative, since although they were intended to be exterior doors, they would most likely have been protected by an overhanging roof. To build something similar in this garden would have been possible but seemed too stylized; Jay opted for a simplified door frame instead, allowing one’s imagination to add any other details, exotic or otherwise.
Antique Chinese doors serve as the entrance to the upper woodland garden, a shady enclave where hostas, trilliums, ferns, and maples thrive.
In this deconstructed room, a red Chippendale bench fronts an innovative privacy screen embellished with three framed metal leaf forms.
A short path leads up to the distinctive red Chippendale bench, whose elevated position suggests power. In fact, Jay jokes that it’s a great place to sit if you’ve had a bad day, as it makes you feel in control as you look down on the surrounding magical kingdom. Behind it is a triptych of gray cement board walls, an unexpected industrial design element that serves to screen out a neighboring home; the center panel projects forward, adding dimension.
Planting this area had its challenges, not least the deep shade and poison ivy that continues to invade from the adjacent property. Deer also enter this space from above, thanks in part to neighbors who feed them. While they have done little damage to the plants (Jay sprays any hostas and coral bells that may be nibbled), they have broken some of the glass art in this area after being startled.
This garden peaks first in spring, with the coppery new growth of autumn ferns and emerging hosta foliage, and then again in fall, when the fiery colors of Japanese maples create a strong visual connection to the hardscape. Yet as with all the chapters Jay has created in this garden, there is something to explore and experience at any time of year.
Top 10 Plants
Orange Rocket barberry (Berberis thunbergii ‘Orange Rocket’). Vibrant orange new growth matures to burgundy then turns brilliant crimson in fall. This easy-care cultivar is ideal for containers and landscapes, with a more upright form than many; 4 feet tall, 2–4 feet wide. Drought tolerant once established. Full sun, zones 4–9. Deer resistance: A.
Golden Spirit smokebush (Cotinus coggygria ‘Golden Spirit’). Brilliant chartreuse foliage glows in the garden from spring until fall, when it turns fiery shades of red and orange. Deer may nibble the emerging new growth but rarely do major damage. Reaches 8 feet tall, 6 feet wide; for the best foliage display, although sacrificing the “smoke” (flowers), prune hard to 2 feet in spring. Drought tolerant once established. Full sun–partial sun, zones 4–8. Deer resistance: B.
Cascade Falls bald cypress (Taxodium distichum ‘Cascade Falls’). Tolerant of wet soils, this compact weeping variety is typically grafted onto an upright rootstock and then allowed to cascade. Grows slowly to about 10 feet tall in as many years; it may eventually reach almost double that. The feathery green foliage turns orange in fall. Full sun, zones 4–9. Deer resistance: C.
Skylands oriental spruce (Picea orientalis ‘Skylands’). Late winter and spring needle color is a brilliant yellow, which highlights the small red, male pollen cones and larger purple female cones, resulting in a spectacular display. Grows 30 feet tall, 10–12 feet wide. Full sun–partial sun, but to prevent sun scorch in hotter climates this golden pyramidal conifer is best grown in dappled afternoon shade. Zones 4–8. Deer resistance: B.
Autumn fern (Dryopteris erythrosora). This evergreen fern, 2.5 feet tall and wide, thrives in moisture-retentive soil. New fronds are often copper-colored, with a more pronounced hue with increased sunlight in late summer and fall. Full shade–partial sun, zones 5–9. Deer resistance: A.
Rhode Island Red Japanese maple (Acer palmatum ‘Rhode Island Red’). An outstanding, upright dwarf Japanese maple, 6 feet tall and wide, with burgundy foliage that assumes shades of orange and crimson in fall. Partial sun–partial shade, zones 5–9. Deer resistance: B.
Florida Sunshine yellow anise (Illicium parviflorum ‘Florida Sunshine’). An easy-care, evergreen shrub, 5 feet tall and 3 feet wide, that thrives in well-drained, moisture-retentive soil. The small brown fruit smell of aniseed when crushed. Partial shade–partial sun, zones 6–9. Deer resistance: A.
Feelin’ Blue deodar cedar (Cedrus deodara ‘Feelin’ Blue’). This prostrate, spreading conifer reaches 2 feet tall and 6–8 feet wide, taller if trained as a small weeping standard. It prefers full sun and well-drained, moisture-retentive soil but is drought tolerant once established. Damage by deer appears to be primarily as a result of rutting rather than browsing. Zones 6–9. Deer resistance: C.
EverColor Everillo sedge (Carex oshimensis EverColor ‘Everillo’). A low-maintenance evergreen sedge that forms a loose fountain of golden foliage, 16 inches tall and 2 feet wide, in moist gardens. Partial shade–full shade, zones 5–11. Deer resistance: A.
Golden Pacific shore juniper (Juniperus conferta ‘Golden Pacific’). This slow-growing, ground-hugging, easy-care golden conifer is a workhorse in the garden. Reliably resistant to deer and rabbits in Jay’s experience, although Rutgers lists it as being occasionally severely damaged. Grows 1 foot tall, 5 feet wide. Full sun–partial sun, zones 6–9. Deer resistance: C.