Denise and Bob Morgan have garden beds shaped like places they've visited -- Jamaica, Maui and the big island of Hawaii. But they'd rather spend their vacations in their garden than in a tropical paradise.

"We miss it too much when we're away," said Mrs. Morgan.

"From March to November, we won't go on vacation from now on," agreed her husband.

Their two-acre spread in Penn Township, Westmoreland County, is a getaway for visitors, too. Starting at the house, they can make a circuit of sweeping beds connected by grass or Belgian block paths, filled with colorful and interesting shrubs and perennials, and anchored by 20-foot-tall reed grass, Eastern white pines, Douglas firs and other trees.

You can see it all in about 15 minutes if you walk fast. But what's the fun in that? Better to take your time and look closely at whatever happens to be blooming. Right now, it's zinnias, black-eyed Susans, dozens of kinds of dahlias and cannas, and pink, blue, white and yellow butterfly bushes. For drama, there are both black and green elephant ears.

Is it any wonder the Morgans won the large garden category of the Great Gardens Contest?

"When my family found out we won, my granddaughter Hanna ran down the driveway with a bunch of balloons. But she accidentally let them go, and they got caught in the trees. She was crying," said Mrs. Morgan.

"I said, 'Don't worry. They belong to the yard. The yard won.'"

Technically, she's right. But this garden is magical because the Morgans spend so many hours in it, planting, weeding, watering, adding new beds. It's clearly a partnership.

"It is just a passion for both of us," Mrs. Morgan said. "After work on Friday, I can't wait to come home and get out in my yard."

Both work full-time jobs, she with a staffing agency and he as a union steamfitter.

He is the landscape designer, contractor and lawn mower, carving out new beds from grass, laying stone paths, planting or moving trees, shrubs and perennials.

She is the pure gardener, scouring local nurseries and catalogs for what is new and interesting, weeding and watering -- always watering.

"I love to water. I get to see all my flowers up close and personal," she said, noting that in spring and summer, she gets up at 5 a.m. every day and spends at least 45 minutes watering and visiting her friends.

Every evening, she spends another two hours with them. Now that the season is at its end, she goes out a few evenings a week and waters for about an hour.

Both of the Morgans read gardening books and magazines -- Garden Gate is their favorite -- and Mr. Morgan also loves poetry. Many of his paths diverge in honor of Robert Frost and his poem "The Road Not Taken."

After reading about a bristlecone pine tree thought to be more than 4,000 years old in California's Sierra Nevada, he planted one in back of the house six years ago. It's only 6 feet tall now; he wonders how big it will get.

But he knows exactly how tall his reed grass is. Since he bought it several years ago from Plumline Nursery in Monroeville, it has reached 20 feet and spread. As if the huge tropical-looking plant wasn't striking enough, it's just started sending up feathery white plumes.

Dangling tassels on the reeds and other ornamental grasses mimic the branches of the property's many weeping trees, including 'Niobe' golden willow, mulberry, hemlock and Alaskan cedar, both the species and 'Golden Arrow.'

In the various beds, certain plants show up repeatedly. The couple have nearly 50 varieties of hosta (including eight gold ones in honor of their grandchildren), large swaths of angel's trumpet (Datura), coreopsis, ferns, perennial fuchsia and echinacea, both in the flower beds and in the herb garden on the north border. The edible plants clustered there include tomatoes, oregano, lemon balm, parsley, chives, tarragon, rosemary, broom, basil and golden sage.

During the summer, the Morgans revel in two dozen varieties of day lilies and more than 100 calla lilies, one of Mrs. Morgan's favorites.

"The sweat and love, the joy and enthusiasm -- we share it all," she said.

They could never be happy in a small garden, they say. Running out of space would mean that Mr. Morgan could never again say to his wife: "What did you bring home now?"