I broke my shovel yesterday, the trusty decades’ old one I brought up north. There’s a metaphor there somewhere. It’s seen a lot of action, especially this spring/early summer. The back garden has left behind that deliciously expectant phase, like being pregnant really, and entered the sobering reality of caring for a rambunctious toddler. Margaret Roach’s excellent article on the High Line was a reassuring and timely read for me. (“Change is the only constant.”). My 3-year-old garden now requires many of the same maneuvers, interventions, and relocations to settle land disputes and preserve air and sun rights as the 15-year-old High Line — on a vastly different scale, of course (and without having to contend with only 16 inches of soil!)
The dreamy phase of contemplating a future garden has had a hard stop this third summer, where harsh judgments must be meted out — which plant is the more valuable and which needs to move elsewhere. Even after three years some plants are still getting settled, while others have doubled or tripled their footprint (Sucissella inflexa, a pale knautia-like bobblehead, I’m looking at you!). It’s engrossing and fascinating to watch the maturation process, but admittedly unnerving to be flung out of the design department and moved to a management position. I have nothing but respect for the 10 full-time gardeners managing the hard work of maintaining the High Line’s complex plantings.
What’s really centered me again and reinvoked that dreamy, expectant state of mind is starting lots of annuals and biennials from seed. Many of the annuals like cosmos, castor bean and amaranthus are getting popped into newly vacant soil as permanent plants are thinned. I’m more than willing to perform the daily triage an overplanted garden requires, but I’m a born nurturer and love the caretaking of young plants. I need to take care of plant babies!
And my preference for big bodacious plants only exacerbates the challenges of managing a quickly maturing garden. For now, I wouldn’t want to part with any of them. The big shapes that dominate the border closest to the back fence include, left to right, a 5×5 Euphorbia stygiana, Persicaria polymorpha (both not pictured), Sanguisorba ‘Red Thunder,’ and Selinum wallichianum, center in above photo. Its ferny leaves are great cut — discovered after trying to relieve some pressure and congestion off nearby plants. Huge umbels in late summer. The Silver Spike grass, Achnatherum calamagrostis, has started to bloom, and the garden finally feels like summer because of it. Deschampsia started to bloom this week too. Most of the miscanthus have been moved to the front garden, as has Festuca ‘Glowsticks.’
For those who’ve been having trouble commenting, deep apologies. Again, management is not my favorite task, and that applies to the blog as well, which barely limps along. Thank you for your patience! Enjoy the long holiday weekend — temps in the 90sF expected here for Friday…
The garden has definitely filled in and looks glorious. It seems ironic that when it reaches it’s peak it’s time to start thinning and removing. Such a long wait and a brief period of perfection. We are doing some much needed renovation and thinning in our 24 year old garden. Overgrown shrubs that I have bee reluctant to remove are now gone and I don’t miss them at all. Plants that are seeding abundantly (lambs ears, euphorbia, globe thistle and dianthus) are being either completely removed or thinned ruthlessly. All for the better. At some point you have to impart some kind of control.
I couldn’t be anything but excited to see your jubilant toddler, Denise! It looks very happy even if plants are rubbing elbows, although I know all too well that eventually decisions will be needed to prevent all-out fights for territory. Out of the blue, I received a comment on a post I published in 2014 today, which left me looking at a much tidier space than I have today. Much as I like a degree of order in my garden, I still can’t say that I’d roll back any of the changes I’ve made in the years since, although I’m coming to accept that I nonetheless need to streamline maintenance requirements, which means simplifying my plant palette.
I love all the color in your summer garden. I’m very tempted by your Solanum laxum and I envy you that Persicaria.
Two sentences jumped out at me, they got my wheels turning and I read them again and again: “unnerving to be flung out of the design department and moved to a management position” and “I’m more than willing to perform the daily triage an overplanted garden requires” I will be thinking on both of them as I spend my day watering the garden and maybe performing a little of that triage. I keep reading about how clogged the roads to the coast will be as us valley dwellers try to escape the heat (near or over 100 for 5 days). I must admit to being tempted, but my plants need me (no irrigation system here). Your toddler garden is looking quite happy.
I love this post. Your words really resonate with me. I’m a chronic overplanter and therefore always removing, replanting, shuffling things around. At any given moment, more than half of my garden is in a toddler stage!
I also relate to what you said about to the urge to take care of plants. It often becomes a chore, me being overwhelmed with plants and not knowing what to do with them. But really, I wouldn’t want to have it any other way.