At the start of the Edisto Memorial Gardens boardwalk, two types of nature meld. Where the planted roses, camellias and azaleas come to an end, Orangeburg County’s indigenous shrubs and flowers thrive.

For far more than a century, the imported plants were brought to the Lowcountry by ships from China, Italy and Africa. Now, with a help from horticulturalists, they have adapted well in their new home.

Most Orangeburgers who stroll there can call their general names, and those of the native pine, cypress and oak trees that shade them. But what about the native bushes growing nearby, greenery that has thrived along the banks for at least 500 years and which the earliest Indians made good use of.

Can you recognize a water tupelo on the edge of the water? Jay Hiers, superintendent of the city parks can. With a degree in landscape architecture, he has been guiding the course of the gardens for eight years.

“Water tupelo tree leaves are oval and rounded, the trunks grow directly out of shallow water,” he says.

Do you know a cardinal flower when you see one? Its stem rises two to three feet from the roots, then opens into a bright crimson bloom resembling an iris. Butterflies and hummingbirds flutter around for the nectar. One opened across the stream from the water wheel last week and made a show all by itself.

“As you know, it’s the food from these plants and the protection of the swamp that draw all the mockingbirds, cardinals, woodpeckers and Carolina wrens. They dart and feast on all the seeds maturing on the limbs. The button bush, which has a leaf about the size of a lamb’s ear, rises up to 12 feet tall and reacts to spring with white fuzzy balls that keep opening all summer.

“There’s a wild poinsettia too, an 18 or so inch plant that often moves in alongside the domestic beds and blooms out with small green flowers, each surrounded by a quartet of tiny orange leaves.”

“Many of the bigger bushes and smaller trees (along) the popular boardwalk are the result of birds practicing the food cycle,” Jay adds. Native privet with its tiny green leaves grows up to ten feet. Mixing among the taller wild dogwoods, they bloom out among the river limbs in April, sprinkling all the swamp with white flakes.

“We’ve had a lot of plants with very exotic names to claim a stake in these wet places, such as two orientals, fatsia and evergreen mahonia,” Jay says. “Not too many people can identify them or the youpon hollies which grow up to 20 feet at the riverside and produce little red berries.”

Not a plant, but so much a part of the scene that it might as well be, is the water wheel which visitors from near and far love to visit, some every year. Created back in the early forties, it has fed water into the nearby ponds with amazing faithfulness. When the first one could no longer operate and had to be replaced, many tourists voiced strong reaction to its temporary absence.

“Why did they take away the water wheel? It was my favorite thing.”

Today’s model, a copy of the first two, looks as though it has been doing its job for centuries.

“This end of the garden spot requires very little care,” Jay says. “All we do is clean away a few dozen plants, such as privets, that invade the formal beds every year. Any that look good, we leave in.

“It’s truly grand to be able to stroll among all these wonderful designs of nature and think how long they thrived before Andrew Dibble, ‘father of the Edisto Gardens’ laid out the first azalea plots in 1926. This walk has given unimaginable pleasure to throngs of people, and a free side show for all the festivals, craft displays and weddings.

“We can really be proud.”

Retired editor and public relations executive Thomas Langford’s column is titled “Some Edisto stories.” Let him know if you have stories to share: 803-534-2097.

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