He works as a demolition contractor and stores the reusable salvage on his land, a source of chronic irritation to some neighbors who consider his storage site an eyesore. The source of the controversy, though, is far removed from the flower-filled sanctuary that is Cheryl Miller's pride. The strip of land that she tends, which was mostly covered with dead cornstalks and weeds when they moved in seven years ago, is now devoted to a bountiful array of perennials, annuals, herbs and vegetables. Although the layout is carefully defined, the effect is informal. Day lilies and yarrow sway near patches of strawberries and asparagus.
Some squares are empty, a bleak reminder of the dry summer's toll.
Cheryl Miller uses the squares to start seeds and experiments with plants. I can do one section and then move on,'' she says. The center design started out as a formal knot, but some of the plants have spilled out of bounds, which is just fine with her. A walk spanned by metal arches that her husband made from old chemical-tank bands leads to a gazebo, where a wisteria vine clambers over the rough logs that form the supports and beams. Her husband built the structure, using reclaimed firewood and a machinery pallet for the floor.