The heroine of this tale grew up on a ranch in Pennsylvania. Yes, her Harvard Medical School-educated radiologist father so loved the wild west that he built the Skyline G -- G (that's G Bar G in cowboy speak) Ranch so that he, his wife and their five children could live like ranchers without leaving the rest of their Pennsylvania family behind.

Her mother, with a degree in home economics from Penn State, was the quintessential homemaker who canned the food she grew and sewed the clothes her children wore. "When we got bored, Mom would hand us a hoe and send us out to work in her garden."

Growing up on a ranch prepared Stevens for her present profession, but she didn't begin her career as a landscape designer until after she married her husband, Richard -- that would be state Sen. Richard Stevens -- and raised their two children to college age. She says, "I went back to school eight years ago and found my true passion."

After attending classes at N.C. State's horticulture program, Stevens started her landscape design business. She has more clients than she can handle, what with satisfied customers spreading the news of her marvelous designs. "I'm not looking for more business," she said, quickly closing the subject when asked how potential clients might contact her.

However, after hearing more about her hands-on approach to gardening and confirming that we both think gardens are meant to be lived in and loved for the sheer beauty of the wildlife they attract, I found myself hinting that perhaps she could find time to stop by my place for a quick consultation. After all, gardens are also for sharing with new friends.

The vista from Stevens' gazebo, situated on the east bank of a lake in Cary's Lochmere neighborhood, includes a weeping willow reflected in the sparkling water. Water seems in constant motion, riffled by gentle breezes and a procession of swans, ducks, geese, turtles and a school of outrageously enormous catfish that come right up to her boat dock when Stevens throws out scoops of dog food for them to tussle over.

The water feature that Stevens helped build -- one that her mate thought was redundant, given that it's a few yards from a lake -- has a gentle waterfall and is nestled beneath an ancient beech tree into which some precognitive soul carved three initials many years ago. Stevens pointed out that the initials ECR were there when she first noticed the beech and it's "twin sister tree" a few feet away in the neighboring vacant lot.

Stevens' children's names are Elizabeth and Charles. "Richard said that maybe we should add a J so that we're all represented," she said with a shrug. Later, after looking through photos of how the garden developed over the past 15 years, I realized that adding a J to that old beech would be even more redundant than a pond beside a lake. Jere Stevens' mark is etched into every aspect of her property.

From the French drains that she dug the trenches for by hand, to the tiniest finches flitting around the bird feeders, her signature garden is a masterwork of planning and design.

As we meandered along the circular pathway that leads from the back deck, down to lake side and back up to the gazebo, Stevens talked about "the lovely serendipitous surprises her plants provide on a daily basis."

She's an avid plant collector, and she's not afraid to mix colors and textures. The path is planted with a series of perennial gardens, some dotted with delicate potted plants that would entice voles if they were planted in the ground. She's the only local gardener I know who plants red poinsettias and keeps them colorful all the way into late spring. Seemingly reading my thoughts, Stevens said, "I feel like every day is like Christmas in my garden."

But she was gazing in the opposite direction and pointing out the blossom on a clump of blue-eyed grass. She actually spoke to the brilliant red Scarlet O'Hara peony nearby. "Oh, you're blooming today, just in time for Carol's visit." Of course, after proper introductions, I complimented Miss Scarlet on her beautiful petals. I half expected her to reply, but all she did was nod politely.

I wasn't kidding when I said this garden is like living in a storybook. The animals and birds chatter and flutter around like so many characters in Wonderland. As we sat for a moment on the sunny boat dock, Stevens noticed a juvenile copperhead snake crawl from under a rock and slither onto a neighbor's pathway. Rather than being shocked or upset, Stevens agonized over its fate. "That's the first time I've seen him venture up into their yard," she said. "I wish he'd just stay down on the bank where he belongs."

So you see in this enchanted storybook garden, our heroine, the passionate cowgirl from Pennsylvania, provides a sanctuary for native fauna where even snakes, birds of prey, rabbits, squirrels and muskrats may roam. It's exactly how she wrote this chapter of her life as a Southern gardener.