Reflections
on Ellerbe Creek and the Watershed

A place like Ellerbe Creek can inspire the artist in us all.  We may be moved paint, sketch, write, photograph, or otherwise capture some aspect of the creek and its environs.  If you would like to use this page to share your personal vision of Ellerbe Creek just contact us.

Rhapsody to a Rain Pond

by Stephen K. Hiltner

There’s a pond in Durham where schools of mosquito fish patrol the shallows and water boatmen navigate its clear depths. Located on an upland slope in an old city neighborhood, it receives its waters from a nearby mountain range, better known as my roof. The pond, constructed a year ago, was dug by hand—a monumental task if not for its modest dimensions. At 8 feet across, terracing down to two feet deep, it’s somewhere between a pond and a permanent puddle. A pondle, perhaps, or a pund.

It needs a good name, because it’s such a satisfying thing to have in a backyard garden. In time, frogs will move in, and hummingbirds will find the hibiscus, cardinal flower and jewelweed that bloom along its shores. A backyard mini-pond even spawns an appreciation for piedmont clay, which serves as a built-in liner, keeping the water from draining away. Most of all, the mini-pond is responsive to the weather and the seasons, slowly diminishing in drought, rising in the rain. Flowers come and go in succeeding waves; the school of mosquito fish—a native of local creeks related to guppies—swells with each new batch of fry. And then there are the distinguished visitors, which in other backyard mini-ponds have included great blue herons and hawks.

Given the voracious appetites of the minnows, the pond spawns no mosquitoes, and is even an entertaining place to dump mosquito larvae found elsewhere—in all the buckets and drain pans and stagnant roof gutters that are the main breeding grounds for urban pestilence. Watching mosquito larvae get gobbled up can be very cathartic.

For those who seek larger meanings in backyard projects, a neighborhood dotted with mini-ponds will be better prepared for extremes of weather. Drought and flood teach the same lesson: find a place for rainwater in the landscape. The current practice of shedding runoff quickly from roofs into streets, and then into waterways not only creates destructive flooding, but also leaves the rainwater-deprived landscape more vulnerable to drought.

The most drought-resistant landscapes are those where water is allowed to linger, whether in mini-ponds or in absorbent swales where water will seep in over a few days. Water allowed to infiltrate creates an underground reservoir of moisture for plants to draw on during drought. This was clearly demonstrated during last summer’s drought as larger-scale projects in Durham like the stormwater wetland at Hillandale Golf Course and the wetland gardens at Indian Trail Park continued to flourish without watering.

The same philosophy applies to the backyard. The way to reduce weather’s extremes is to accept the gifts currently spurned. It involves harvesting the rain that falls on house and yard, in rainbarrels, raingardens, grassy swales, mini-ponds and soil made absorbent by mulch. Even the condensate from air conditioners, most abundant when it’s most needed, can be directed to a pond or raingarden rather than left to soak into the foundation.

In a climate increasingly marked by droughts and torrential downpours, making a yard creek-friendly can be a rewarding adventure.

Note: It’s best not to dig mini-ponds too close to house foundations or tree trunks. Most, but not all, wetland plants need some sun. Whether or not the pond needs a liner will be determined by what sort of clay you encounter while digging.

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