Ponds, Streams & Waterfalls

Facing the Future
To me, designing and building ponds and streams is the best job in the world:  It offers the professional rare opportunities to shape beautiful compositions that mimic nature and bring joy to those who spend time near the water's edge.  It's hard work both physically and mentally, but ultimately, it's profoundly satisfying.   I backed into this business while doing lawn and landscape maintenance work during high school.  What I observed on that end of the market was a level of competition so intense that I soon recognized I'd need a specialty if I were to have any chance of pursuing a good career at it.   In surveying the market, I noted that a number of landscaping firms were getting into naturalistic waterfeatures - and that the outcomes frequently looked terrible, even from my novice's perspective.  To get in and out quickly, too many of these operators created systems that bore no resemblance to nature at all:  From the rockwork to the way streams cut through spaces, what I saw just didn't square with what I'd seen in the real world. These shortcomings spelled opportunity, of course, but I also knew that to stand apart from the rest, I'd need to develop my own skills and deliver work that reached a much higher level than just about
Facing the Future
To me, designing and building ponds and streams is the best job in the world:  It offers the professional rare opportunities to shape beautiful compositions that mimic nature and bring joy to those who spend time near the water's edge.  It's hard work both physically and mentally, but ultimately, it's profoundly satisfying.   I backed into this business while doing lawn and landscape maintenance work during high school.  What I observed on that end of the market was a level of competition so intense that I soon recognized I'd need a specialty if I were to have any chance of pursuing a good career at it.   In surveying the market, I noted that a number of landscaping firms were getting into naturalistic waterfeatures - and that the outcomes frequently looked terrible, even from my novice's perspective.  To get in and out quickly, too many of these operators created systems that bore no resemblance to nature at all:  From the rockwork to the way streams cut through spaces, what I saw just didn't square with what I'd seen in the real world. These shortcomings spelled opportunity, of course, but I also knew that to stand apart from the rest, I'd need to develop my own skills and deliver work that reached a much higher level than just about
Microbes Rule!
For a long time, I've studied a small lake that formed long ago in a natural bowl in Northern Wisconsin.  It has about 20 acres of surface area and is now surrounded by a cow pasture and a cornfield.   Holsteins graze right up to the water's edge and at times step into the lake to drink.  Sometimes, cows being cows, their waste ends up in the water as well.  On the opposite shore, the cornfield has an unusual configuration, with its furrows running straight down the slope and into the lake.  When it rains or the fields are irrigated, some fertilizer inevitably washes into the lake.   The stage is set for aquatic misery:  Viscous, pea-soup mats of green algae and foul odors are the common results of this sort of nutrient loading.  Indeed, few life forms other than algae survive in
Microbes Rule!
For a long time, I've studied a small lake that formed long ago in a natural bowl in Northern Wisconsin.  It has about 20 acres of surface area and is now surrounded by a cow pasture and a cornfield.   Holsteins graze right up to the water's edge and at times step into the lake to drink.  Sometimes, cows being cows, their waste ends up in the water as well.  On the opposite shore, the cornfield has an unusual configuration, with its furrows running straight down the slope and into the lake.  When it rains or the fields are irrigated, some fertilizer inevitably washes into the lake.   The stage is set for aquatic misery:  Viscous, pea-soup mats of green algae and foul odors are the common results of this sort of nutrient loading.  Indeed, few life forms other than algae survive in
Grand Cascades
I've always believed that if you're going to do something, you should do it so well that the results are beyond compare. That basic philosophy has guided our company, GCS of Woodbridge, Calif., from the very start.  It has led us to apply the highest standards to every one of our projects, all of which have been executed on large estates for ambitious, affluent, selective clients who invariably want something no one else has. We've been selective from the start as well, seeking clients who are in the process of creating the homes of their dreams and who want to have fun with (and in) their exterior spaces.  In most cases, what they want are true oases - resort-like settings that give them a taste of
Grand Cascades
I've always believed that if you're going to do something, you should do it so well that the results are beyond compare. That basic philosophy has guided our company, GCS of Woodbridge, Calif., from the very start.  It has led us to apply the highest standards to every one of our projects, all of which have been executed on large estates for ambitious, affluent, selective clients who invariably want something no one else has. We've been selective from the start as well, seeking clients who are in the process of creating the homes of their dreams and who want to have fun with (and in) their exterior spaces.  In most cases, what they want are true oases - resort-like settings that give them a taste of
Graceful Reflections
In all my many years of working with water, I've never grown tired of its remarkable beauty and complexity - or of the variations it encompasses, the ways it changes and the endless fascination it offers to those who come into its presence. At the heart of water's ability to inspire us and rivet our attention is its capacity to reflect.  There's something truly magical about the way water mirrors the sky, a surrounding landscape, nearby architecture or a well-placed work of art.  It's a gift of sorts, a timeless bounty that has captured imaginations ever since Narcissus fell in love with
Graceful Reflections
In all my many years of working with water, I've never grown tired of its remarkable beauty and complexity - or of the variations it encompasses, the ways it changes and the endless fascination it offers to those who come into its presence. At the heart of water's ability to inspire us and rivet our attention is its capacity to reflect.  There's something truly magical about the way water mirrors the sky, a surrounding landscape, nearby architecture or a well-placed work of art.  It's a gift of sorts, a timeless bounty that has captured imaginations ever since Narcissus fell in love with
Mastering the Greens
Creating watershapes and landscapes that are natural in appearance is always a challenge, says Ken Alperstein of Pinnacle Design, a firm that specializes in high-end projects related to top-flight golf courses.  For this project in Shady Canyon, however, the ante was upped considerably by the site's location in an environmentally sensitive coastal canyon in southern California - a design challenge intensified by regulatory scrutiny every step of the way. It was a job that forced everyone involved to be on exactly the same page at all times. The landscapes and watershapes at the Shady Canyon Golf Club in Irvine, Calif., were developed by the Irvine Company as the heart of an upscale residential community.  The wilderness area set aside for the course and its immediate surroundings had a subtle, bucolic charm all its own - a character the design team needed to
Native Vision
Whether we function as designers or builders or both, we watershapers tend to be flexible folk:  We mold ourselves to projects and situations and tasks when we're called on to apply our skills and experience, and this often leads us to perform in  unanticipated ways.  This sort of adaptability is a way of life for most of us:  It's a talent we use to produce success. But even the most adaptable practitioners of the watershaping arts will, every once in a while, encounter a project that shocks the system, alters all formulas and breaks down familiar parameters.  In these rare cases, just surviving the process is an accomplishment that brings a sense of relief as well as a sense of amazement that both you and the project made it through to completion. I was recently fortunate enough to be part of just such a project - a fascinating set of challenges now known as the Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, D.C.  It's the last museum that will be