Golf in the Garden Designing the Permaculture Links

Golf in the Garden

Designing the Permaculture Links

by Jerome Osentowski and Peter Bane  Subsequently Printed by Bio-Integral Resource Center (BIRC)
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, down-valley 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 re-contoured 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.
Benefits of the Black Medic “Weed”

• 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: 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)

Reprinted with permission from The Permaculture Activist #46