Nature Laughs
To adapt an old Yiddish adage: Gardeners plan and Nature laughs. We can make our garden plans, but Nature often has a design of her own. Some plants will spread, divide or seed, others may revert to a previous version of themselves, and sadly some don't thrive. Having a good knowledge of plant characteristic and growing needs helps, but some of it is unpredictable and up to Nature's fickle nature.
I don't like to look at exposed soil; I like a lush (over-planted) garden where plants overlap, weave together and form soft borders. I like low creeping groundcovers, and hope that other plants will grow dense and coverup the ground. My groundcovered areas are doing well--though I'm impatient for full coverage--spreading into wider ripples each spring. In other beds, I've learned that some unexpected plants, if happily situated, will take off--with new plants sprouting alongside the originals and even several feet away. This is where Nature has her way. I do want the foxgloves and veronica to fill in big gaps in my mixed bed. I'm always thrilled to see bulbs multiplying as predicted.
But it's seeds that you can't predict--they scatter by animal, wind or magic, I think. My first summer here I had half a dozen lupines seeds fly in (with birds?) and take root along my driveway. For the most part, I was pleased with this. Last summer I bought impatiens balfourii--that I call 'snap weed'--because when the seed pods dry they snap open and broadcast almost microscopic seeds near and farther. I may regret this, since I now see the tiny sprouts dusted all over. (This is where the word 'invasive' gets written in the plant description.) Other plants don't care where you want them, they will surprise with a volunteer wherever you least expect it.
And this brings me to where Nature is laughing at me, challenging my rigidity, and I have to decide to fight it, or get in on the joke. I'm quite vigilant about my planting, certain beds = certain plants, certain beds = certain colors. And it's not unlike me to move plants that have misbehaved to where they belong. But I had a recent epiphany. I realize I'm fighting an ongoing battle and nature might actually know best. I can either be annoyed at where plants indiscriminately decide to grow, or I can adopt a more flexible, pragmatic and naturalistic attitude and let seeds fall where they may and plants find their happy place.
I'm going to go with this liberating approach and see how I like it. My garden will take on a relaxed, or maybe even wild look in places. But I'll let the columbine pop up in the middle of the sweet woodruff, I'll let the Japanese anemones infiltrate the hydrangeas. After all, in nature everything is as it should be, beautiful and perfect in its own way. (However, I may still need to move that white vinca out from the middle of the purples!)
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