The Imperfect Gardener

by Adina Sara

Editing the Garden For most of my gardening years, I subscribed to the notion that whatever plant came my way via stray birds or random winds was a plant worth keeping. I marveled at the way matilija poppies settled between the cracks of the railroad ties that separated the top part of my garden from the bottom. I felt very lucky when a mallow tree came up of its own stubborn accord between the bricks. Ah, nature, I thought, and tended the newcomers with enthusiasm, believing that I owed them a happy life. Whenever a friend or neighbor said, "Do you want some of these?" I couldn't resist, never bothering to ask about growing pattern, size, or habits. I, in turn, shared my cuttings, happy to know they would add color to someone else's garden. About a month ago I realized I could not walk down the steps to my vegetable beds. The steps were buried. The matilija poppies had obliterated an entire section of my garden, and I had forgotten I even had a walking path. It is exciting and wonderful to discover new plants, put them here and there, and watch while they do whatever it is they are going to do. It is, in my experience, what provides gardening with its most amazing surprises and pleasures. But if you subscribe to this plant-and-see philosophy, you will find yourself in gardening hell plants everywhere, spilling onto one another, and no plan or color scheme or place to sit and enjoy them. Your lovely garden will become, before your unsuspecting eyes, a jungle. For the past several months I have been editing furiously, removing perfectly viable and vibrant perennials. If you love matilija poppies, I am sorry to say that I eradicated a wild field of them. I had to. There was no other way to get by. I am now planting walking paths stepping stones with bark in between removing thick verbena limbs that trapped and strangled the lilies. I uprooted a perfectly marvelous jade tree and set a green ceramic frog in its place. Instead of planting, I am removing plants, substituting them with another important gardening feature: empty space. Now I see things I couldn't see before. There is beauty in the light that shines through the shapes of limbs. With masses of overgrown foliage gone, I notice the arch and bend of the rosemary and ceanothus limbs, offering their own kind of visual attraction. After uprooting masses of overgrown, albeit fragrant, lemon balm, I see the ceramic duck peeking its way through. There's beauty in the contrast between the plants and the earth itself. The old adage "less is more" should be remembered when planning a garden. The plants themselves are only part of the landscape. Once in a while, when someone offers you magnificent hollyhock seeds, that grow to be about 4 ft. tall with leaves the size of elephant ears, say, "No thanks. I don't have the space." Plant Swap In September Metro Garden Club members exchanged fresh eggs, gourds, lemon cucumbers, figs, euphorbias, chocolate geraniums, and a variety of garden tools. I came away with some zinnia seeds that provide an exquisite exception to my prior warnings of over-planting. If you are interested in sharing garden lore and bounty, contact TheMetroGardenClub\@yahoogroups.com.