For years, I’ve admired the gardening I could see while driving past Irene Womble Stevens’ home on Damascus Church Road. From whichever direction one approaches this home perched on the crest of a hill, there’s no doubt that a gardener lives there.
One day last year, I left a note in the mailbox claiming my admiration and included my phone number. She called and we talked about her gardening obsession, but the drought was on and not much was left for the season. After seeing how spectacular it looked while passing by last week, I stopped in and got a tour of the garden Stevens has created around the house her grandfather bought in 1905 and raised seven children in through the deaths of two wives.
The original home had “two rooms up and two rooms down with a shotgun hall and a kitchen away from the house,†she said. The road was in a different place back then; in fact, it wasn’t called Damascus Church Road at all – it was known only by its Rural Free Delivery (RFD) route number. Irene remembers that the privy sat in a spot where today’s road runs.
In 1995, after her step-grandmother had died, Stevens and her husband moved from Greensboro, where she had retired after a 40-year career as an office worker for Burlington Industries, and made the home their own.
“We could have bulldozed it down and rebuilt for what we spent on restoration,†she said. But instead they preserved the character of the original house, ending up with a lovely spot that includes a screened-in porch for enjoying the garden and the pond beyond, at the bottom of the hill.
The area is rich with Wombles. She grew up across the dell behind the house, on what is now Smith Level Road, in the house where a Wombles Farm sign stands, and where a brother still lives. Irene has siblings living shouting distance away in most directions.
“It’s so grown up now,†she said, recalling how it used to be. “All the way around Damascus Road from Smith Level to Jones Ferry, there weren’t but three, four, five . . . probably eight or nine families living out here,†and she could still name them. “We really thought we were out in the country, but we’re only three miles from town.â€
During her childhood, the road to town (now called Smith Level) curved east along Morgan Creek just below where Culbreth Road is now, winding it’s way into Carrboro, a route she took on a bus to Carrboro Elementary School (then in today’s town hall) and later to Chapel Hill High School (on South Columbia Street before it burned down right after she graduated).
Besides a plethora of flowers including a rose garden, all framed by crape myrtles from her childhood, Stevens grows a vegetable garden every year.
“Daddy always said there’s no point in putting your garden in until it’s warm enough to sleep under a sheet,†she said as we looked at her tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant, melons and French chard, and she explained why the beans — upon her third planting — were nothing more than sprouts peeking through the soil. She had planted them late, about the time we experienced a period without rain, so she was trying again.
She loves visiting gardens, where she frequently learns about the next plant she’ll add to hers. Many of the plants in her garden have stories attached about a visit to a garden where she was first introduced to a species or variety, like the white day lily she acquired after a trip up to Grandfather Mountain, or the angel trumpet plant from visiting the Elizabethan Gardens in Manteo. Some plants have the names of the people who gave them to her — “there’s Miss Musgraves and Miss Oliver,†she pointed out. “I can’t say no if somebody says, ‘would you like a cutting?’â€
Her mother introduced her to gardening as a youngster. She also tried to teach her to sew and play piano but none of that took.
“All I can do is dig in the soil,†she said. “I love the ground. Mama loved flowers,†and it was Irene’s job to keep them watered. There was no running water and no watering cans. She carried buckets of water from the well and, using a tin can she had punched holes in the bottom of, sprinkled the beds.
“We raised our own food — chickens, hogs, a garden — we had plenty of food and a family that loved us,†she said.
She remains grateful for every day.
“When you look around and see all the beauty you have to know there is a higher power.â€
When I see this kind of yard, I know I’ve found a passionate person who appreciates color and loves to work hard with nature. She did not disappoint.
Contact Valarie Schwartz at 923-3746 or valariekays@mac.com.

