Stone, Wire and Concrete: How the Rockwork at Rockome Gardens Was Built
Most visitors remember the flowers first. The people who stay a while at Rockome Gardens usually end up remembering the stone: arches, towers, rock-lined beds and low walls that look as if they grew out of the Illinois prairie.
A project that began with a labor problem
Rockome started as a private summer place. Arthur and Elizabeth Martin bought a 208-acre farm about five miles west of Arcola and set aside seven acres for flower gardens, rock formations and a cottage. The rockwork itself began in 1937, when the Martins' business had too little work for its own crew. Instead of laying people off, Arthur Martin sent his workers out to build rock formations and fences on the farm.
That origin explains a lot about how the place looks. Nothing here was ordered from a catalog or designed by a landscape firm. It was made by working men who knew concrete and had time, a supply of local stone, and a boss who cared about his wife's gardens.
How a rock formation was actually made
The method was simple and durable. Workers first bent and tied a metal framework in the rough shape of the finished piece, the way you would build a skeleton. A carefully mixed concrete was then worked into the frame, and while it was still soft, native stone was pressed into it one piece at a time. When the concrete cured, the stones were locked in place.
Between 85 and 90 percent of the rock came from Rockome's own ground and from neighboring farms. That is why the walls carry the browns, grays and rusty reds of the local fields instead of the tidy uniform color of quarried stone. Look closely and you can find fossils, odd-shaped nodules and stones that were clearly chosen for their faces rather than their size.
- The frame gave each formation its outline and kept the weight of the concrete supported while it cured.
- The concrete was mixed to a particular consistency so it would hold stone without slumping.
- The stone was set by hand, usually the flattest face outward, so the surface reads as a mosaic.
The gardens grew around the stone
The sunken gardens were the first to be finished, and the perennial beds came next, just to the east of them. Over the years the property added a formal garden, an herb garden, a Spanish garden, a fern garden, a hill planting and, in later seasons, a Victory garden. Each one uses the rockwork differently. In the sunken garden the walls hold the ground back and create a sheltered room. In the fern garden the stone throws shade and holds moisture. The formal garden uses the same material in straighter lines.
If you are planning a visit for photographs, the light matters. Morning sun rakes across the rock faces and shows every texture. Late afternoon warms the concrete joints and makes the whole place look older than it is.
Where the idea may have come from
The Martins loved to travel. One likely source of inspiration is the grotto park in Dickeyville, Wisconsin, a well-known set of shrines and rock structures built in the 1920s from stone, shells and bits of glass. You can read about that site on the Dickeyville Grotto page. Nobody can prove that the Martins copied it, but the family resemblance is hard to miss: concrete, found material and a strong sense of personal expression.
Why it still matters
Folk builders like Arthur Martin rarely get credit in art books, yet their work is often the most memorable thing in a region. Rockome is a good example. It shows how an ordinary crisis, in this case too little work for a good crew, can turn into something a whole county is proud of. It also shows that a place does not need to be large to be worth the drive.
When you walk the paths, slow down at the edges of the beds. Touch the wall if signs allow it. Notice where a stone has been set at an angle because that was the only way it would fit. Those small decisions are the signature of the people who built it.
Planning tip. Allow at least two hours for the gardens alone. The paths are short, but the details reward a slow pace, and the crafters' hall, the cheese house and the small shops are all close by.
Reading the wall: a short field guide
If you want to understand the rockwork, do not start with the biggest structure. Choose a low wall beside a path and follow it for twenty steps. Notice how the mason changes stone size as the wall turns a corner, how the joints are pointed with concrete that has aged to the same tone as the rock, and how the top edge was finished so rain runs away from the face. These are the habits of a builder who wanted the work to last.
Then step back and look at the whole formation. You will see that the large shapes are simple, often a tower, an arch or a stepped bank, while the surface is busy with color. That contrast is the reason the place photographs so well. The eye reads a clear silhouette first and is then pulled into thousands of small stones.
Caring for a concrete-and-stone landscape
Any garden with this much masonry has a maintenance story. Freeze and thaw cycles crack joints; roots find their way behind walls; moss grows on the shady side. Crews who look after formations like these usually work in the dry months, repointing small areas and replacing the odd loose stone with material from the same fields. The lesson for a home gardener is that stone walls are permanent only as long as somebody keeps watching them.
That is also why the people who visit such places often become their advocates. A garden built by hand deserves a community that will keep it standing, and every photograph, guidebook and blog post about it helps make that case.