66
Experimenting with Forest Gardens
Temperate-climate forest gardening is a new field, and only a few mature forest gardens exist on this continent. However, many more are old enough to
have begun producing, and hundreds more are currently being planted. I visited several established food forests while researching the first edition of this
book and have returned to some of them in the intervening years.
One site that illustrates the transition from raised-bed to forest garden is that of Jerome Osentowski, near Aspen, Colorado. Jerome faces some tough
gardening challenges, as he lives 7,400 feet above sea level. Frosts can hit during any month. When I first visited him, in September of 1999, his one-
third-acre garden was still lush and green, but he expected the first killing frosts of autumn soon.
A Brief History of Forest Gardens
Forest gardening is a young field for North American gardeners, but it has a long history. Food forests have existed for millennia in the tropics, though
early anthropologists didn’t recognize them as gardens at all. Accustomed to row crops and annual vegetables, the first white visitors to tropical home-
gardens assumed that the small plots of manioc, beans, or grain near African, Asian, and South American houses provided most of the inhabitants’
food. The surrounding tangle of vegetation was assumed to be untamed jungle, and these people were branded as practicing only primitive agriculture.
Only after prolonged and unprejudiced observation did anthropologists comprehend that virtually every plant near the dwellings was useful in some
way. The tall trees were timber and firewood producers or nitrogen fixers, while the shorter ones bore mangoes, papayas, avocados, and other
marvelous fruits. Beneath these were shrubs for food, fiber, and wood products. The herb layer was filled with medicinal, edible, and ornamental plants.
Rampant growth was slashed back several times each year and used for mulch or animal fodder. But because these plants were arranged in guilds
and by function, rather than in neat lines and beds, scientists had no idea that they were looking at an ecologically sound, carefully worked-out scheme
for producing nearly everything the occupants needed. Sadly, many of these wonderful food forests have been replaced by Western-style cash-crop
agriculture, making the once self-reliant inhabitants dependent on fertilizers, pesticides, and imported, processed food and other goods.
Fortunately, a number of visionaries saw the immense value of these tropical forest-gardens. One was Robert Hart, an Englishman who not only
studied tropical food forests but transplanted many of their concepts to temperate gardens. His book, Forest Gardening, was the first to describe the
subject for the Northern Hemisphere. A second useful book is How to Make a Forest Garden, by Patrick Whitefield. Both books are written primarily
for a British audience. The new bible for food forest enthusiasts is Edible Forest Gardens, by David Jacke and Eric Toensmeier. This magisterial two-
volume set, eight years in the making, thoroughly covers the theory and practice of forest gardening for temperate climates. It includes extensive plant
lists and design ideas and is a comprehensive guide that has no equal. See the bibliography for more information on these books.
For years, much of Jerome’s income came from growing organic salad greens for the upscale markets and restaurants of Aspen. Supplying this finicky
market year-round supported Jerome for a decade or so. But it took arduous labor, and Jerome was dismayed by the mountains of hard-to-find compost
materials that he was importing, and then exporting from his land as salad greens. This open loop disturbed his permacultural sense of propriety. Finally,
California salad growers 1,000 miles away began offering produce to local stores more cheaply than Jerome could. After ten years, Jerome began
shifting to food forestry. Now, many of the former salad beds held small trees and shrubs.
We stood by one bed in which celery and a few heads of lettuce dotted a sunny edge below some young trees. “The food forest was a natural evolution
of this place,” Jerome said as I admired the heat-holding rock terraces of his young forest garden. “After years of growing annual vegetables, a lot of
fertility had leached down to where the short roots of the salad greens couldn’t get it. So I went to fruit trees, with their deep roots, to get at all those
nutrients.”
I asked Jerome what species he had planted. Swinging his arm to encompass the slope, he said, “Let’s start with the trees. We’ve got apples—there’s
one with five different varieties grafted onto it. Apricots, plums, some native Douglas firs, and New Mexico locusts for nitrogen. The trees are young, not
really in production yet. But the shrubs are really giving us a lot of food now.” He pointed out the understory of black and white currants, gooseberries, bush
cherries, cranberries, and Siberian pea shrubs. Bamboo and willow were sprouting vigorously, and several varieties of grapes, along with scarlet runner
beans and squash, entwined the other vegetation. Strawberries and claytonia (miner’s lettuce) swarmed over the rock terraces.
“We’ve got a lot of medicinal herbs, too,” Jerome continued. “A nice market crop if we want it. Echinacea, St. John’s-wort, astragalus, artemisia, lots
more.” The lush cascade of greenery nearly filled the hillside garden. “What makes this place work, though, are what I call the compañeros, all the guild
companion-plants.” He showed me the rich array of soil-building and insect-attracting species: nitrogen fixers such as pea shrubs, fava beans, clovers,
fenugreek, and alfalfa; bee plants such as borage and comfrey; other insectary species, including fennel, celery, dill, and coriander; and strongly scented
pest-confusers such as horseradish, Mexican marigold, garlic mustard, and walking onions. These many-functioned plants reduce Jerome’s share of the
pest control and fertilization duties and augment the web of ecological connections among the forest garden’s inhabitants.
The rock terraces don’t just give Jerome more flat ground for his garden. They are essential to mitigating the volatile mountain climate. The mass of the
stones absorbs heat, softening temperature swings, warming the plants at night, and blocking frost. “The rock terraces were important in helping the
young plants survive,” Jerome told me. “They get shaded now in the summer, but they still store heat in winter and especially in spring when the plants
need it most.” During winter, the rocks, snow cover, and mulch combine to prevent the ground from freezing, even when temperatures plunge below zero.
This allows slug-eating snakes and other beneficial wildlife to survive the cold season.
The garden is surrounded by a tall deer fence, and a complete guild was designed to grow on it. Hops and sweet peas trellis up the woven wire, and
Russian olive and gooseberry form a green shrub layer. Sunflowers stretch skyward. Clover and strawberries cascade along the ground, interspersed
with garlic in the root zone. In a forest garden, every site offers new opportunities for creative design.
Though food is one obvious benefit here, Jerome explained the forest garden’s compounding value. “As I phase out the salad-green operation, I can
get income from the medicinals and tinctures, and from nursery stock and scionwood for grafting. But I’ve found that’s not the most valuable part. I learn
from all this. And so do my students who come up here for the classes at Central Rocky Mountain Permaculture Institute.” The real value-added product of
the forest garden is the inspiration, knowledge, and renewal that comes when humans and the rest of nature mesh in a healthy, vigorous, and diverse
setting.
A few years later I returned to Jerome’s garden to find a mature food-forest in lavish abundance. It was mid-August, and sturdy peach trees stood
guilded with Siberian pea shrubs, sunflowers, cabbage, clover, comfrey, and cosmos. Lunch for twenty students came almost exclusively from the garden,
day after day. No longer does Jerome import truckloads of organic matter. The garden generates almost all the mulch and compost materials it requires.
Much of the mulch is from woody plants, to create nourishment that favors fungi, which predominate in forest soils, as opposed to the bacteria that prevail
in annual garden soil and turf lawns. The fruit-tree guilds also yield horseradish, astragalus (a nitrogen-fixing medicinal herb), mint, basil, and other
culinary herbs that Jerome sells to three local supermarkets and two farmers’ markets.
Jerome Osentwoski’s forest garden at Central Rocky Mountain Permaculture Institute. The rock terraces and pond both store daytime heat and release it
during the cool Colorado nights, which aids plant growth and fruit production. PHOTO BY JEROME OSENTOWSKI.