Everything, Everywhere, All at Once
Back in April, when there was a nip in the air and dinosaurs walked the the earth, it seemed inconceivable that the seeds, corms, and small plantlets trying to get a foothold in the garden would ever come close to filling the space. A relatively mild winter allowed us to get up to a great deal of mischief, creating new raised beds for the vegetable garden, opening up the somewhat ambitious Entry Garden, and getting way beyond our headlights with the grading of the Croquet Lawn and Hot Garden. Each of these spaces required a planting plan, which required plants, which required a budget—a budget that was made easier with a put-up-or-shut-up approach to the greenhouse. And the greenhouse delivered.
But even with 500+ plants germinated and brought on, it’s amazing to see how a modest-sized new space can devour seedlings. Established gardens have all the advantages. Years of divided perennials have relaxed their belts a bit and expanded into the gaps. Small shrubs have become trees. Instead of spurring the garden on, you have the luxury of reigning it in—selecting which plants, from the many vigorous horticultural options vying for your eye, will drive the theme of your fully realized masterpiece.
While we have the advantage many mature trees and shrubs here at Willow Greens Farm, most of our spaces are in transition. In order to accelerate the journey to an established landscape our approach has been, particularly in the Entry Garden, to think hard and to throw the full range of plants—bulbs, herbaceous perennials, shrubs, and seeds—at the design and then cull the things that don’t work. But this week has brought a reckoning. Some things must go.
Among the biggest offenders, the Verbena seems determined to prove that you can have too much of a good thing, dwarfing the roses it was designed to support. Like a choir with eleven altos and one tenor, it just feels out of balance. The Borage (yet to bloom) has lived up to its thuggish reputation, pushing out many of the slower growing seedlings. Plus, they seem to be a real Japanese beetle magnet, forcing me to come in and break up their shameless iridescent trysts. I must also thin the Baby’s Breath and possibly prune the Cosmos. Many of the annuals that I spread in May have sprouted but I have no idea what is part of the plan, and what is an intruder. At this moment I’m only removing what I know to be a weed.
Many of the other perennials have exploded, but I don’t expect to see any blooms until next year. Still, I’m looking forward to the structure that the Cardoons should give to two of the quadrants. Large spaces have been left open as I’m on fence between two bits of topiary or a couple of very nice obelisks.
The kitchen garden has also flexed its muscles as we’re bringing in record numbers of carrots, potatoes, beets, and green beans (and no beetles!) Being July, it’s not surprising that the lettuce is slowing down, but the tomatoes and parsnips are picking up the pace. During the past couple of months we’ve worked hard to eliminate meat in at least 50% of our meals. Not a dogmatic approach, nor do we engage in any self-loathing when it doesn’t happen.
Having fresh options makes that much easier.
In spite of this floral growth spurt, the summer rhythm/doldrums/torpor is well and truly upon us as we move through the gardening year. Temperatures above 90 F with humidity in the 70% range really slows your pace and it’s a good time to focus on some of those pesky little jobs left undone during the spring (I’ll spare you the details of the rotting porch steps). If you throw in a few bird walks, family visits, and a couple of trips for ice cream the schedule seems pretty hectic. For now.
You’re so inspiring! And funny. Thanks for brightening my day.