Nature likes massing plants together — being part of a close-knit group protects against the elements in harsh environments. In the garden, large drifts communicate that our aesthetic choices are intentional. Less is more only in variety, not in quantity.

On Asian alpine slopes, breaks in the shrub cover are filled with carpets of flowers — a Polygonum of sorts in this case.

Such blankets of low, ground-hugging plants are wisely used here in the Alpine Rock Garden of the University of British Columbia. These are all native to New Zealand, a land of weird and wonderful plants, lots of them hardy in zone 8 and above.

Vegetation become sparse at higher altitudes — snow is usually not very far off. The highly specialized mechanisms developed by the toughest survivors up here are mind-boggling — a good example resides in this rhubarb (its flowers are hidden under large protective bracts).

Unless we are specialists, with great skills and landscape installations, these plants don't really adapt to cultivation at low altitude. We may look but not lust after them.

There is no escaping it: Since mountains are huge piles of rocks, rocks are most welcome, if not absolutely necessary, to create an alpine-inspired garden. The rocks must be sizable — like these planted with golden creeping jenny — and may also be used structurally to hold a slope or create steps. You can achieve the positioning of these rocks by trial and error, following close observation of natural examples — or by hiring a specialist.