By Aurelia C. Scott
Photos by Kelsey Kobik
From the Fall 2023 issue of Maine Homes by Down East
Tufts of Little Bluestem grass burst through golden drifts of coreopsis in the undulating meadow James McCain planted around his family’s Cushing vacation home. Purchased by his sister in 2014, the half-acre property with a cedar-shingled house and bunkhouse sits on the crest of a hill between hay fields and the great arc of Broad Cove. As exposed and windy as it is beautiful, the site proved a horticultural challenge for McCain, a landscape designer with Portland’s Larkspur Design.
While Rockport’s Phi Builders + Architects renovated the buildings, McCain mulled the gardens. “My mother and grandmother taught me to love wild landscapes, and I wanted to honor their legacy in this place, which my sister, mother, and husband share,” he says. He specced shallow-rooted native wildflowers to cover the new septic system next to the driveway and a dog-friendly patch of grass in the property’s southeast corner. For the L-shaped expanse in between, he was inspired by Piet Oudolf, a Dutch nurseryman famous for planting perennials and decorative grasses in eye-catching waves. Here, McCain wove in layers of hardy, low-maintenance native plants, herbs, grasses, and reseeding annuals that can cope with forbidding conditions. When it was time to plant, he opted for seedlings and landscape plugs instead of seeds. “Seeding requires intensive monitoring and weeding for months at a time, which I couldn’t manage,” he says. “And by using plants, I could see what I was creating as I worked.”
Today, granite steps and peastone paths built by Rockland’s Midcoast Landscape & Masonry wend through mounds of hay-scented ferns and a rainbow of pollinator enticements, including pink Joe Pye weed and Raspberry Wine monardas, golden and orange yarrows, yellow gray-headed coneflowers, and blue nepetas. Cobalt lupines, snowy penstemon digitalis, and purple allium Summer Beauty poke through the profusion like exclamation points. Butterflies dance between milkweeds and mountain mint.
Underneath, a living mulch of wild strawberries protects the soil while feeding wildlife. Creeping oregano and Prairie Purple clover soften pathway edges. Borders of beach plums, chokeberries, serviceberries, and viburnum mix with the pines and spruces along the property’s boundaries. Beside the buildings, evening primroses and Lindheimer’s beeblossom twirl in containers. Along the shore, ducks paddle near a stand of cattails. And everywhere, the air vibrates with crickets and the hum of industrious, pollen-drunk bees.
At the end of the season, McCain leaves the garden unpruned to provide food and shelter for native fauna. In April, he cuts it back and, throughout the season, he removes invasives, such as fleabane daisies. “Low-maintenance or not,” he says with a laugh, “I do tweak and weed.” Some usual stalwarts, like blue hyssops, were short-lived here. “Instead, we have asters and goldenrod, whose seeds blow in on the wind.”
“I’ve come to feel that I’m co-evolving with the garden and the other creatures that share it. My family and I provide care and lots of gratitude. The plants and animals provide beauty and an education.”
