Author: Thomas Walters

It’s that time again when compulsive gardeners begin to think of spring, the approaching warm weather and the growing seasons.  “No, it’s not too soon” I snap at those, particularly the Princess, our daughter, whose enthusiasm for plants ranks just below her interest in auto mechanics.  I’ve taken my houseplants about as far as I can, moving them about and rearranging until, well, there’s only so much space. So, I’ve begun again to research various plantings, what should go where, what will get enough light, what does best in certain soils, that sort of thing that gardeners do.  And so much is based on old-fashioned dumb luck.

I may have mentioned before that I’m a great fan and follower of the English broadcast, “Gardener’s World.”  Host Monty Don is truly an expert, and it’s fascinating to see what he does each year, and how he does it.  Of course, the show features many other features too – visits to outstanding estate gardens, the major British garden shows, interviews with nurseries and large-scale growers.  It also features individuals that have created wonderful “plots”, community gardens with assigned spots, along with truly magnificent gardens that some inventive gardeners have built on patches the size of a bathroom.  They’re always inspirational, but often, I share their inspiration but lack their energy.  So, I tinker with what I have.  A few bulbs here, a container there until something satisfying emerges. Each year, a new adventure.

There is a trend on Monty’s acreage to give names to gardens.  There’s a lot of that in Britain.  A significant number of homes have names – “Honeysuckle Cottage”, for example.  On continental Europe, only the large estates have names, but not in England.  Our dear friend, Lady Peacock, resides at Teale Cottage.  In fairness, I gave it that name, because her decorative accents favor teals and blues, but still, it fits.  Monty, though, has names for his gardens, which I rather like.  It makes it simpler for him on broadcasts to refer to the “jewel” garden, the “writing” garden, and the “cottage” garden.  We, his followers, will know exactly to which area he’s referring. My gardens, much more limited because, well, we’re in a condominium, will of course be much less regal, deriving their names from the location, shape, and what survives. Here are a few thoughts I have on naming mine, should I ever have a tv show.

The ”Bunny Feed” garden.  This area, containing varieties of plants that the wild bunnies, and there seem to be dozens of them, like to eat. This is a constantly evolving garden, because what’s here today will be gone tomorrow, chewed down to the ground.  I’ve even been at the kitchen window watching a bunny or two unselfconsciously munching away on asters, ground phlox, and corn flowers.  My readers, I know, will respond with helpful suggestions – spray them with animal deterrents, or plant something with a scent to drive them away.  Been there, done that. I remember one year I bought some “coyote urine” to spread.  The Princess was thoroughly appalled at just the thought, telling me it better not be her inheritance paying for it.  Anyway, it worked for a while until a family of woodchucks (that’s groundhogs to non-New Englanders) weren’t fooled, realizing there were no coyotes for miles.  My trips to the local nurseries, where I ask for anything the bunnies won’t like, are met with shaking heads and fateful smiles. 

The ”Transition” garden.  This is out front, and runs along the walkway to our neighbors.  A large privacy fence was removed last fall, so it now gets a fair bit more sunlight.  Great, an opportunity!  This was originally going to be the “Spring” garden, with azaleas and peonies, but I started putting in daylilies, and they’ve done pretty well, along with assorted hostas and lavender as filler.  Don’t know what the hostas will make of the increased sunlight.  I’ll have to get them little hats and sunglasses.  There is one peach tree that I bought at the grocery store a few years ago.  This was going to be the “Peach Orchard”, but I still have just the one.  It started as a sapling, but now it’s shot up to, oh, gosh, four or five feet. It blossoms whimsically, which doesn’t bode well for a fruit stand or peach cobbler.

Out front at the start of the walkway, I’ve found that coreopsis has been working well.  I’ll call that the “Welcome” garden, because it’s the first thing you see when you pull up outside.  The coreopsis is colorful, and it doesn’t seem to get eaten, so, along with a few scattered sedums, I’ll leave it alone to sink or swim on nature’s whim.  Next to that is the “Container Terrace”, a brick terrace installed by our predecessor.  I envisioned this as a mini version of Hotel Portofino, one of those beautiful, European showplaces of color and joy.  I was going to put a bistro set of table and chairs there, where I’d enjoy my morning coffee and newspaper in the dappled sunlight, but Her Ladyship shut down that dream.  So, it’s a concrete bench and multiple containers.  It is attractive, though.  I got wonderful feedback from a gentleman delivering Chinese food one night, so it’s not without powerful impact.  

Out back is what was supposed to be my “Rose” garden.  A mixture of tea and sweetheart roses.  But with an eye toward diversity, I put in a beach rose, which has totally taken over, overwhelming everything else.  This spring, I’ll have to cut it down and dig it out, starting again.  Another investment from the Princess’s inheritance.  That back area has become “invasive” central.  I’m happy to report that the bittersweet, the wild grapes, and the poison ivy are all thriving.  In fact, they’re all conspiring to kill a lilac bush that’s been there for years, along with many of the trees.  Even the huge pines have bittersweet hanging from them.  I’ve cut it down numerous times, but it’s a survivor.  Maybe I’ll call this area my “invasive species” garden. Behind the garage is a small patch where goldenrod is doing remarkably well.  I know that many gardeners consider this a viable and valuable contributor to meadow gardens.  As I’m allergic to it when it comes into full flower in August, I call this the “Tissue Box” garden. Or maybe the “Sneezing” garden.

Scattered around the back deck are “Hidden” gardens – little pockets of things I’ve put in with the hope they’ll survive.  Many have.  One holly bush has become several.  The closest thing I have to a cottage garden features a backdrop of more holly, along with some beebalm and daisies.  My predecessor put in pachysandra, which as we all know, now, looks lovely but takes over everything in an impenetrable groundcover.  The beebalm and daisies have managed, year after year, to poke their heads through and blossom.  This is my “Persistence” garden.  Yes, I’ve put in other things, but none survive.  Some year, if I’m really ambitious, I’ll dig out the groundcover and try again with something more.  

So, here is my philosophy of gardening, and I’m pleased to note that Monty is sometimes in the same boat. We try what works, and when it doesn’t, or it’s rather disappointing, we move it or toss it.  I’m truly not terribly heartbroken if something in the garden doesn’t survive.  A gardener must be willing to try and try again.  It’s an ever-changing vista anyway, even with something that’s fairly reliable.  Perhaps that’s why I enjoy it. There’s always something to do, something new to try.  Hit-or-miss.  That’s me.