Joanne White grew up in Ephrata, so expanses of grass didn't give her pause. However, she had always lived in an apartment, so had no idea how to deal with all this land. Let alone blue clay and an abundance of artesian springs. Joanne learned by becoming an active member of the Northwest Horticultural Society, the Arboretum Foundation, the Chase Garden and the Bellevue Botanical Garden Society, getting educated while using her computer skills (she runs a custom database business) to help out these organizations. These days she is concentrating her energies as events coordinator and Web master at the Bellevue Botanical Garden.

Iris 'Higira,' like most Japanese iris, appreciate a moist environment. It grows 3 feet high, its striped, tissue-paper blooms adding elegance to the midsummer garden.		Pratia pedunculata, or blue star creeper, blooms around entry pavers in mid-June. Native to Australia, this hard-working groundcover looks deceptively delicate with its pastel star-shaped flowers, but it is rugged, drought-resistant and long-flowering.		The dynamic rush of waterfall serves as effective counterpoint to the expanses of still, smooth pond surface.

Joanne began by planting some rhododendrons and azaleas. She spread weed killer and bark, and went fishing. Her 50-by-100-foot vegetable garden was given over to ornamental plantings. Slowly she began to really garden the property, leaving some in pasture for views of fences and grazing horses.

Two hunky, timbered pergolas tie the house to the garden. The Whites had to go all the way to Idaho to find treated poles fat and long enough for the structures they envisioned. Now the pergolas signal a sense of entry, casting dappled shade on the pavers beneath.

This old photo shows the relationship of garage, house and three ponds before the gardens were planted.

How to design a garden when you have acres to fill? Joanne started by planting near the house and working her way out. One of the first trees she put in is a weeping sequoia, so gangly it looks like something Dr. Seuss invented. She envisions it growing up and over the roof of the house, so she's hitched a wire to the tree and cranks on it every once in a while. A massive copper beech and spreading Cedrus atlanticas provide scale, shelter and structure for the house and garden.

Early on, the Whites had to deal with the little creeks that pop up all over the property, and rain that whooshed down the hillside directly toward the house. Curbing the length of the driveway solved the runoff problem, directing the water away from the house and into the drains. The springs and creeks weren't so easily dealt with. "I realized we needed to plant lots of blueberries or dig ponds," says Joanne. She hired the job done, and came home from work to find a series of three large ponds. Lined with the blue clay provided by nature, they've never sprung a leak, and remain filled with water even in summer. The biggest pond is really a small lake 15 feet deep, which warms up enough by midsummer so the grandkids can swim in it. A deck overlooks the pond, and the feathery foliage of a redwood filters the glare of the setting sun.

The Whites have used the water in lieu of lawns. The shapes of the three ponds, their inter-connectivity and the plantings at their edges define the garden. The water's glassy surface mirrors the surround of plantings while seeming to pull the sky right down into the garden with reflections of passing clouds. Joanne looks out her kitchen window at the ducks lazily drifting on the water.

Above: An antique birdcage ornaments a flowery garden between the driveway and the entry pergola. At right: Redirection of spring water into three ponds has created mirrored surfaces that double the effect of surrounding plantings.

But all is not perfection in this water world, for muskrats set up residence along with the ducks, great blue herons, frogs and waterskippers. These whiskery aquatic rodents tunnel between the ponds, ruining the dikes that separate them. "They dig holes large enough for a kid to have a tea party in," sighs Joanne. Originally she planted grasses alongside the ponds, which looked lovely reflected in the water. Unfortunately, the grasses' bulk obscured the muskrats' tunneling activities, giving them food and housing to boot. As skillfully as prisoners working to dig free, the muskrats tunneled beneath the grasses until the pond's edges collapsed to reveal their secret caverns. So the Whites had to remove all the grasses and line the ponds with rocks. Now iris, willow and the thickly ribbed, splayed leaves of Gunnera manicata adorn the edges.

Corsican mint, blue star creeper and creeping thyme soften the stone pavers beneath the hefty entry pergola that leads to the home's front door.

Joanne has never drawn up plans for the garden, but just keeps refining. About 10 years ago she got the idea for a series of watercourses. "This area was just blah," she says of the slope where three waterfalls now rush over stones in a cool glen. Alongside the rocks are luxurious plantings of astilbes, hosta and Japanese maples, moss and primulas for springtime bloom. The water whirls and eddies over and around the stone, a dynamic counterpoint to the expanse of unruffled ponds. As a birthday gift, Joanne's husband gave her slabs of rock placed to form a stepping stone bridge across one end of the middle pond.

Perhaps asking for stepping stones rather than jewelry or perfume for a significant birthday is what defines a dedicated gardener. Certainly Joanne, former apartment dweller, has made a place to pursue her passion. She calls the gardener who comes to help her one day a week "my personal trainer" because she coaxes Joanne away from her computer to work in the watery wilderness she has created alongside the horse pastures.