The rain falls mainly down the chain

The driveway to the cedar-sided house is flanked by low fieldstone walls in shades of gray and mauve. The linear structures have been softened with plantings of burgundy grasses, purple sage and perennial heathers that echo the colors of the stones. The well-planned curb appeal pays homage to Ruth Guthrie's past.

"In my most recent previous home, I couldn't see the garden from inside the house, so it was a garden for passersby," she said.

Guthrie and her late husband lived near Windsor, England, for 11 years, so she knows a little bit about putting her best gardening foot forward. She even found a local garden expert there who periodically stopped by to "walk and talk the garden" with her and help maintain it in the proper English style.

But that was then.

When she decided to build on the lakefront lot in Cary's Lochmere neighborhood, Guthrie wanted a place tailored to fit her current lifestyle. She smiled as she showed her spacious, airy living area. With the help of architect Frank Harmon and landscape architect Judy Harmon, Guthrie created a haven for herself, her children, friends, relatives and future grandchildren.

Suited for quiet contemplation of the wildlife that visits the lake behind her house and her elegant courtyard pond that is home to fish, frogs and whatever birds or small mammals happen to drop in, Guthrie said, "We designed it for me, without any thought to resale value."

She's happy with the results -- and added with a twinkle in her eye, "I'll let my kids worry about how they'll sell it after I'm gone."

Resale should not be a problem. Every room on the main level has a lake view. The courtyard can be viewed from anywhere in the upstairs living area through large unadorned windows. A guest master suite downstairs has large windows and doors opening out to the lower garden, croquet lawn and boat dock.

In the courtyard -- planted with hardy tropicals, perennials, herbs and flowers -- the large pond seems so natural that sometimes Guthrie notices visitors from the lake. "We had some northern water snakes take up residence under a ledge in the pond," she says. Before the snakes moved in, she often sat beside the pond at night. But the snakes fed on the frogs, and when the frogs disappeared, the mosquitoes took over. "I had someone come and remove the snakes, but only because they upset the established ecosystem."

Swans, hawks, herons, muskrats, geese, ducks and beavers are frequently spotted near the lake and sometimes venture into her courtyard. But, Guthrie says, she only bothers to guard against rabbits and occasionally a neighborhood cat. To keep them out, she added poultry fencing along the lower two feet of her horizontal pipe fencing. Wire cages around trees and precious plants down near the lake deter beaver and muskrats from gnawing. A woodpecker damaged cedar shingles on one corner of the house, so Guthrie had flashing metallic streamers installed to scare them away.

The Harmons' firm specializes in energy-efficient, environmentally conservative dwellings, using materials and products that contribute to ecological restoration. Frank included a geo-thermal energy system in the house. In the garden "rain chains" direct storm water from the roof to keep the courtyard and pond free of pollution or flooding.

Using rain chains rather than downspouts provides drama and sculptural appeal. Rain chains direct runoff from Guthrie's copper gutters down a series of copper rings. "It's beautiful when the water flows down the chains," Guthrie said. The runoff falls into small catch basins lined with river stones and from there into drains that take it down to the lake.

The rain chains, a Japanese invention -- known as kusari doi in Japan -- turn a common rain shower into an art show. Even in a flat, sandy plain of a garden like my own, the beautiful rain chains may be used to capture a resource we think of as precious these days The rain can be directed into a barrel or a small rain garden, where rainwater would linger to nurture bog plants or a few aquatic varieties -- which, until now, I've never thought about trying to grow.