[Sdpg] Golf in the Garden Designing the Permaculture Links Jerome Osentowski

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Golf in the Garden
Designing the Permaculture Links
  http://www.crmpi.org/


Jerome Osentowski and Peter Bane Reprinted with permission from The 
Permaculture Activist #46 www.permacultureactivist.net


Some work just seeks you out. Or so it seemed four years ago when central 
Colorado's Roaring Fork Valley found itself in an uproar about golf. 
Tributary to the Colorado above Glenwood Springs and framed by 12,000 foot 
peaks of the Elk range, the Roaring Fork has seen a succession of economies 
over the past century and a half, from silver and potatoes to coal mining 
and beef ranching, but these have largely given way in recent decades to 
recreational tourism and think tanks. Now, Colorado Highway 82, which winds 
its way through fields of alfalfa hay to connect the tiny mountain towns of 
Carbondale, El Jebel and Basalt, is increasingly flanked by burgeoning 
bedroom suburbs that formed the gateway to one of the world's trendiest 
addresses: Aspen

.

With jet set money from all over the world fueling demand for exposure to 
its majestic scenery, the area has an abundance of ski slopes, gourmet 
restaurants, time-share chalets, and traffic jams. A surfeit of well-heeled 
visitors throughout the year has meant a growing demand for golf as well, 
which caught the attention of veteran developers David Wilhelm, Jim Light 
and Jim Chaffin. Chaffin had been among the original developers of the 
Snowmass resort and together with Light had built a number of award-winning 
golf courses including Spring Island in North Carolina. Teaming up with 
David Wilhelm, whose vision of a 19th-century park like Yellowstone with 
small rustic cabins set in a natural semi-wooded environment would 
ultimately be realized, Chaffin and Light felt they had a winning concept, 
and, downvalley from Aspen, where well-watered ranch bottomlands promised 
suitable landscapes at still affordable prices, they were sure they had the 
right location. Negotiations with the ranch-owning families centered on the 
preservation aspects of the golf course, which would maintain more open 
space than the usual housing developments that were popping up all over the 
Roaring Fork.

A Rude Reception


When the developers' proposal went before the Basalt Town Council it drew 
the largest crowd in the town's history. And though many local business 
interests were eager to see the money the development would bring, even 
more town residents, many of whom had settled in the area for its pristine 
natural beauty, were shocked and dismayed to learn that nearly 300 acres of 
ranchlands along the river would not only be recontoured by bulldozer, but 
would be forever after doused with turf fertilizers and herbicides. This 
would be the fourth golf development in the area in recent years, and the 
one that snapped the camel's back of public tolerance. Wilhelm, Chaffin, 
and Light's well-oiled and high-flying promotional effort had just touched 
down... on its nose.



Tipped off by a friend of the impending controversy, Jerome Osentowski, who 
had by then been gardening a rocky mountainside a few miles above Basalt 
for a dozen years, showed up at the meeting and managed to wedge himself 
through the crowd into a side door. Quickly assessing the furor, he 
determined to steer clear of what looked to be an insoluble dilemma, but 
chatted briefly with one of the developer's representatives, and dropped a 
business card before leaving.



The town council were caught in a squeeze. The proposal couldn't go through 
without their permission, but the developers owned the land and could 
ultimately force the issue through the courts if the Basalt councilors 
refused. Sentiment among town residents was implacable: no golf course.

Finding the Balance

Councilor Steve Solomon emerged as the point man for the town on the issue. 
He began researching less toxic alternatives to herbicide spraying, and he 
began to work to connect the developers with some local allies.



"It all started in the greenhouse," recalls Jerome, when the developers' 
superintendent, Kevin Adams, came around for a tour a few weeks later. As 
Jerome explained how the fennel plants in the greenhouse harbored 
beneficial wasps that kept pests at bay, Adams asked, "Can you build me one 
of those at the golf course?"



Jerome's first thoughts were "What can be done to make a golf course useful?"
After all, there was almost no more potent symbol anywhere on the planet of 
idle wealth, toxic consumption, and artificial control of nature than this 
odd setting for executive sport. Could it be in any way redeemed? 
Permaculture training and practice intruded immediately and an edible 
landscape came to mind, then thoughts of how to balance the diverse 
elements required. Years of working with market gardens, organic 
greenhouses, and a forest garden at 7,000 feet in the Rockies had not been 
idle play. Jerome was well versed in concepts and techniques of integrated 
pest management (IPM), and knew the value of hedgerows for crop protection 
in traditional agriculture. But what would it look like on the golf course? 
He began to focus on the use of flowering plants to create an outdoor 
insectary and habitat for bug-eating birds.

Garden Meets Golf Course




Thus the concept of BioIslands was born. Hot spots of diversity occupying 
all the "out-of-bounds" sections of the course, they would form the 
backbone of a new golf-centered ecosystem. The BioIslands would carry 
nature's helpers throughout the other 262 acres of the course by creating a 
long, rich edge of native and beneficial plant communities to protect the 
more vulnerable greens and fairways from devastation by cruncher-munchers. 
What other golf course operators kept at bay with sub-lethal doses of 
pesticides, BioIslands at the Roaring Fork Club would suppress with waves 
of beneficial wasps, lacewings, syrphid flies, and lady beetles, 
deliriously happy amidst acres of umbels, wildflowers, native trees and 
flowering shrubs. If it worked, the strategy might just save the 
developers' bacon: it would not only allow them to show the townsfolk they 
could avoid most of the toxic chemicals usual to golf course management, 
but it would be beautiful in a way most well-groomed links only pretended 
to be.



Jerome set to work researching plant guilds. He got together with Basalt 
nurseryman Guido Meyer at the Colorado Tree Ranch and began picking species 
that would work in the particular environment of the Roaring Fork. Meetings 
followed with The Design Workshop, landscape architects hired by the 
development company, and with representatives of Jack Nicklaus' design 
team, which would lay out the course itself. The aim was to integrate the 
BioIslands seamlessly with the greens, fairways, and roughs.



The theme of working with nature caught the ear of the developers. Chaffin 
and Light had already made moves in this direction with their earlier 
project at Spring Island, pioneering a new, natural style of course. At 
Basalt pressures from the townspeople helped push ecological sensitivity to 
the forefront. Wetlands along the river would be retained, rather than 
filled, and additional wetlands created; existing riparian forest would be 
incorporated into the out-of-bounds. Fly fishing was to be a second major 
attraction of the resort and a series of lakes would be built serving as 
hazards for the golf course and as habitat for different species of trout. 
The nutrient-rich water would provide a source of chemical-free fertilizer 
when it was used to irrigate the greens and fairways. Restoration became an 
important focus as well. An existing irrigation ditch would be transformed 
into a man-made trout stream that splashed and babbled beneath cottonwoods 
and willows as it meandered through the guest cabins.

Fruits of the Struggle

But good ideas and good intentions weren't enough. The Roaring Fork Club 
had started out with a huge public relations deficit and had to claw its 
way back up the mountain of public approval inch by inch. Perhaps the 
development could become a force for environmental improvement in the 
valley. Councilor Solomon continued to advocate for a win-win solution.



Public meetings dragged out the permitting process. "I was their shining 
star," chuckles Jerome. "Though no one planned it that way, I began 
noticing that whenever I wasn't present at the meetings, the Council bogged 
down in controversy over environmental issues." Trusted by the local 
community for his long years in ecological education and with a solid 
reputation for high-quality food production, Jerome became a bulwark of the 
developers' credibility.



The town council persuaded the corporation to set up the Roaring Fork 
Conservancy and to help fund its operations from resort proceeds. The 
Conservancy has since become a powerful local watchdog for watershed 
health. It's taken a particular interest in protecting rookeries of the 
great blue heron, some of the most important on the Rocky Mountain flyway. 
And the Roaring Fork Club continues to support this work by sponsoring an 
annual benefit tournament for the group.



Public opposition began to soften as the developers continued to show good 
faith, but their troubles weren't over. On top of the permitting delays, 
unrealistic schedules and difficulties in establishing the turfgrass held 
back the planned opening by almost a year. In this context, Jerome's 
efforts became critical to financial stability. Early blooming of 
wildflowers in the BioIslands gave the still unfinished course a 
spectacular beauty that helped win over customers and investors. Almost 
every Saturday Jerome gave tours or press conferences as prospective 
members and cabin buyers paraded through. Bouquets of flowers from the 
BioIsland abundance decorated tables at the weekly barbecues.

Painting with a Broad Palette

All was not glory, however, as accomplishing this display meant that 20 
acres of BioIslands had to be planted with 8,000 trees, 20,000 shrubs, and 
vast numbers of perennials, then hydroseeded with a wildflower and legume 
mix. There were miles of drip irrigation to be installed and tons and tons 
of mulch to be hauled and spread. Working persistently for two and a half 
years, Jerome directed hard-working landscape crews to establish the 
system. "It was like painting," he recalls, "There was only so much we 
could do on paper. On-site design was the key. I had to see it on the 
ground. I would pull the plants off the truck, lay out a pattern, and the 
crew would follow behind digging them in." It was hard going, too, with 
lots of hand work in poor subsoil left in the wake of the earthmoving. "We 
had different guilds for the different environments of the course." Each 
day Jerome would assess the next day's prospects and plan his selections 
accordingly.

  The ecological model was a savannah with pockets of forest garden. Some 
areas were very dry, especially the difficult edges along an old railroad 
right-of-way. Others were seasonally inundated wetlands. North-facing 
slopes got different mixes than south- or west-facing banks. Following a 
pre-construction inventory of plants on the site and drawing on a core of 
native and adapted species, Jerome and fellow guild designer Meyer had 
created a diverse palette of useful assemblies that would nurture 
beneficial insects and wildlife, heal and build soil, and provide an 
ever-changing visual feast throughout the seasons. There was a 
Rabbitbrush-Sage Buffaloberry guild for the driest areas, consisting mainly 
of native plants. Mountain mahogany, a native nitrogen-fixer, was used with 
Pinyon Pine, Indian ricegrass, Penstemon, Bitterbrush, and scrub oak on the 
edge. Chokecherry, Amur maple, and Siberian Pea Shrub formed the center of 
a guild for moister areas, while a slightly different mix focusing on 
Serviceberry brought a tamer, more colorful blend of plants including 
currants and gooseberries in close to greens and other areas where a more 
formal look was wanted. Redtwig dogwood led the guild for riparian zones 
and right next to the water a Cottonwood-Willow-Elderberry group of plants 
was used. In the area near the cabins more colorful and edible species such 
as lilacs, roses, gooseberries and Nanking cherries were emphasized to set 
off the small lawns framing the residences. All in all, seven species of 
trees, 29 shrubs, 31 perennials and 18 annual wildflowers, among them 
lupins, vetches, native grasses, Oregon grape, and echinacea were used in 
various combinations that included three nitrogen-fixing perennials and 12 
edibles.

The Human Story


The demands of the installation were only a part of the job, however. 
Getting the course superintendent and grounds staff to embrace the concept 
and carry on the monitoring and maintenance that would ensure success of 
the system was at least as challenging as putting in 30,000 plants. Optimal 
performance of the Integrated Pest Management (IPM) system would require 
regular observation to check for pest impacts, periodic release of 
beneficial insects, as well as weeding and soil building during the early 
years. Golf course professionals are used to spraying and mowing, not to 
the subtleties of observing and cultivating natural systems.
Changing the culture of the golf course took persistence. The BioIslands 
needed a dedicated manager familiar with their design and ongoing cycles. 
Jerome helped the Club create this position by describing the job, and when 
the position was finally filled last year, he held biweekly trainings for 
the new manager.

A Weed of Another Color


The project bogged down briefly in the middle from differences of opinion 
over the role of weeds. Black medic (Medicago lupulina), a nitrogen-fixing 
legume related to alfalfa, became a lightning rod for a clash of paradigms. 
Persisting along with clovers, dandelion, and plantain from the old cattle 
pasture soils, it had germinated in the BioIslands and in some areas of the 
new fairways to the aggravation and dismay of the course managers. In 
particular, the medic seemed to dominate the driest BioIsland zones. The 
managers feared that like the other pasture plants it would spread quickly 
into the fairways and out compete the slower-growing turf grasses. Already 
delays in turf establishment had set the project a year behind schedule and 
nerves were a bit frayed. The pros were sure the medic needed to be 
stopped. Jerome saw the humble weed as an ally. He understood the role 
being played by the aptly named medic: It was first aid for the poor 
disturbed soils of the BioIsland areas, fixing nitrogen and providing cover 
for other plants to establish. "I could see it in the driest areas. The 
native grasses were huddling next to the medic. And they're tough! Nothing 
else would have survived." It was Nature's nurse crop, and it took a year 
and a half in some areas before the medic had improved the soil enough for 
other plants to take hold.



Meanwhile, the culture clash between ecology and lawn order came to a 
symbolic head. Maintenance crews were yanking dandelions and clover out of 
the patchy fairways. The BioIslands manager kept grousing about the medic 
and "the weeds." With chemical fertilizer off-limits in the BioIslands, 
Jerome sought to plant more of the medic to hasten improvement of their 
degraded soils, but management resisted. He offered the B.I. manager a 
contest of ideas: he would prepare a list of ten benefits of the black 
medic while she would set out the reasons for removing it. In the end, the 
logic of natural processes was unarguable, and the list became a part of 
the final report on the Roaring Fork Project. Apparently no drawbacks could 
be found; the medic stayed. Other 'weeds' went on working too, in plain 
sight: in most areas, wildflowers broadcast over the BioIslands had 
effectively replaced the annual pasture weeds.



The following season the evidence of succession was clear for all to see. 
The black medic had receded into the background as other plants gained 
ground in the dry areas. Meanwhile, with the help of some hand-pulling and 
spot spraying of competitors, the bent grass and fescue of the fairways 
came on strong, filling in to a lush, green sward. The course opened with 
the BioIslands secure.



To ensure the program would continue in the right way, Jerome and his 
associates produced a report, consisting of three large binders with every 
imaginable resource the pros could need to run their system: suppliers of 
materials, insects, seed, organic fertility builders, and more. Embedded in 
the report was a management protocol that set out the frequency of 
monitoring, critical limits and natural indicators within the system that 
would trigger specific responses, and a careful schedule for maintenance 
operations. This took months of research to assemble and craft.

Playing Under Par


But did it work?
"In the two years since the course opened there has been no need to spray 
for cutworms," a major pest of turf grass, reports Jerome. "Trichogramma 
wasps living in the BioIslands kept the populations down by parasitizing 
their eggs." And there have been no major insect outbreaks in the four 
years since the project began. Only a few aphids have been spotted on the 
course though there have been infestations elsewhere in town.



So the BioIslands are doing their job. They've become lush reservoirs of 
beneficial insect life, filled with birds, flowers and ripening fruit. 
"When I'm out there, it doesn't feel like a golf course to me," says 
Jerome. "It feels like a young forest."



And there are unexpected benefits, too. "The fishing guide at the Club 
recently told me that damsel fly populations are so healthy that they're 
not needing to feed the trout in the ponds. That," says Jerome, "comes 
directly from the habitat created in the BioIslands. It closes another 
organic loop."

Tallying the Score


And was it worth it?
 From the point of view of the Roaring Fork Club, the approach has had many 
advantages. The first success came on the public relations front. The 
BioIslands strategy helped sell the course to the town of Basalt. And the 
beauty of the wildflower meadows filled the sails of the marketing staff 
during a hard time when a conventional landscape job might have driven the 
project onto the rocks. Long-term costs will be lower as maintenance 
diminishes and savings from avoided spray costs mount up. There is a large 
advantage from the reduced toxic exposure to workers and golfers alike with 
significantly reduced risk and liability costs. The perennial backbone of 
the golf course has a great resiliency to changing climate and 
environmental stresses that results in savings to the bottom line. And 
careful environmental stewardship has helped the Club win and keep 
prestigious Audubon certification, a feather in its cap that helps it reach 
a small but growing niche market of environmentally aware golfers.

- Nitrogen-fixer--It produces free nitrogen that is available to 
wildflowers and other plants.


- Nurse crop--It does not compete with wildflowers or native grass species 
for root space or light, as do other nitrogen-fixers (e.g., red and yellow 
clovers). Medic grows very close to the ground and tends to grow gently 
around the native grass and wildflower seedlings. Traditionally it has been 
used as an interplanted nurse crop for winter wheat throughout North and 
South Dakota.


- Moisture Control--Medic helps to recycle moisture back into the soil as a 
living mulch.


- Aeration--The tap root of medic helps aerate and break up the hard clay 
soils in the BioIslands.


- Fertilizer--Its roots help to bring up minerals and micronutrients from 
sub-soils.


- Food for beneficials-- The flowers are food for beneficial wasps and 
others. Early
flowering provides a convenient niche in time.


- Weed control--It helps by out-competing less useful weeds.


- Erosion and dust control--It grows close to the ground and thus helps 
stop soil erosion
from wind and water, and keeps down dust around cabins and clubhouse.


- Non-invasive--It has not been invasive in the turf areas or in the 
BioIslands. This is not
the case with the red and yellow clovers, which have proved to be quite 
aggressive in the BioIslands. Seeds of all three of these plants were 
already present in the soils of the Ranch before the golf course was 
developed and remained in the soils that were used to top-dress the turfs 
and BioIslands. As all three germinated, only the medic has not been a problem.


- Slow to spread--It does not easily creep onto the turfs. Seeds would have 
to germinate on top of the turf grass, which they don't seem to be able to do.

The Redtwig Dogwood Guild


Gambel's Oak (Quercus gambelii)
Native Chokecherry (Prunus virginiana demissa)
Buffaloberry (Shepherdia argentea)
Redtwig Dogwood (Cornus sericea)
Alpine Currant (Ribes alpinum)
Wild Rose (Rose spp.)
Gooseberry (Ribes grossularia)
New Mexico Locust (Robinia neomexicana)
Native Plum (Prunus spp.)
Englemann Spruce (Picea engelmannii)
Ponderosa Pine (Pinus ponderosa)
Cottonwood (Populus angustifolia)
Trembling Aspen (Populus tremuloides)


Annual Flower Mix:


Shirley Poppy (Papaver rhoeas)
Plains Coreopsis (Coreopsis lanceolata)
Globe Gilia
Mountain Phlox
Bird's Eye (Gilia tricolor)
Bachelor Button (Centaurea cyanus)
Wallflower (Cheiranthus cheiri)
Blue Gilia (Gilia capitata)
Baby Blue Eyes (Nemophila menziesii)
Baby's Breath (Gypsophila paniculata)
California Poppy (Papaver californica)
Firewheel
Drummond Phlox (Phlox drummondii)
Sulfer (sic) Cosmos (Cosmos sulphureus)
Scarlet Flax (Linum)
Cosmos Sensation Mix
Five Spot
Rocket Larkspur (Consolida ambigua)


Riparian Perennial Mix:


Dame's Rocket (Hesperis matronalis)
Medium Red Clover (Trifolium pratense)
Alsike Clover (T. hybridum)
Slender Wheatgrass (Agropyron trachucaulum)
Black-eyed Susan (Rudbeckia hirta)
Rocky Mountain Iris (Iris missouriensis)
Sheep Fescue (Festuca ovina)
Shasta Daisy (Chrysanthemum maximum)
Icelandic Poppy (Papaver nudicaule)
Purple Coneflower (Echinacea purpurea)
Redtop (Agrostis gigantea)

More Scenes from the Roaring Fork Club BioIslands


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