I love my cottage-style garden, with its masses of flowers and greenery. At my place, the garden has plenty of classical elements including brick paths, hedges and stone walls, but the plants rule the roost. The flip side of all that cottage garden charm is that masses of flowers and greenery can easily become messes of flowers and greenery. All it takes is a spell of rainy weather or the temporary absence of the gardener and all bets are off. The thuggish plants—both loved and unloved—see their chance and take it. Crabgrass competes with Russian sage for hegemony in the upper back garden and perilla mint romps freely through every bed. Catmint goes on the prowl, pouncing all over better-mannered plants like coreopsis.
I have spent the past three months working on a special, non-garden work project, which means that even on weekends the garden has taken a back seat. It is not as if all progress has stopped. The showy parts of the layout have received fitful attention and the privet has gradually been tamed. Even the mountainous oakleaf hydrangea—Hydrangea quercifolia—and the even more mountainous flowering quince–Chaenomeles japonica—have been pruned, though not nearly enough. The hanging baskets on the front porch are, to coin a phrase, hanging in there. Mulching has happened, though more is always needed. I remind myself that mulch scarcity is a perpetual situation, even in past years when I have paid slavish attention to the outdoor scene.
The worst part of my garden has always been the space on edge of the south side of the property, where a path leads to the gate that divides the upper back from the front garden. On one side, this strip is bounded by a PeeGee hydrangea—Hydrangea paniculata ‘Grandiflora’–and several large holly trees. A few hostas hold down the fort below. The PeeGee arches over the path and in a few years, tall people will not have to bow their heads to get under it. The hollies’ nearly-everlasting leaves crunch underfoot at all times. The other side is home to a lovely yellow-flowered magnolia tree—Magnolia ‘Elizabeth’–and several standard-form roses of Sharon that bound the property. Two striped roses, Rosa mundi, also known as Rosa gallica ‘Versicolor’ and Rosa ‘Variegata di Bologna’ reside at their feet. Both are fragrant, once-bloomers that make a lovely show in the spring. Except for the path, the earth is completely covered by an intertwined combination of English ivy, Vinca minor and yellow archangel or Lamium galeobdalon.
Though sometimes colorful, the whole area turns into a black hole when not tended. Shafts of sunlight often penetrate this mess, especially in the mornings, but they don’t do much good, except to encourage the rampant growth of plants like ivy, which need absolutely no encouragement.
So what’s a desperate and time-challenged gardener to do?
The first step is to figure out what chores will have the most impact in the shortest period of time. Usually that means starting with the biggest plants and the roses of Sharon are ripe for it. This is not the ideal time for the pruning job, as they are either blooming or preparing to do so. Still, the roses of Sharon and the nearby plantings will be better off without the mess of branches that are growing every which way. There will still be plenty of flowers left when I finish with the pruning saw and the plants will look more like trees and less like bushes with embarrassing kneecaps.
On the other side of the path, the hollies also need limbing-up for tidiness sake. Once that is done, I need to cut a new path through the rampant ground covers so I can get to the outdoor spigot without tripping.
But what to do about the rest of that ground cover? It is so pretty in spring, with the snapdragon-like yellow archangel complementing the starry, blue-purple vinca. However, there is no plant on the planet that can outcompete English ivy. Left to its own devices, it will vanquish both vinca and archangel. It seems a shame to let it dominate the space so thoroughly.
As in diplomacy and children’s play-dates, compromise is the answer. I will eliminate the ground covers in some areas, around the existing roses and hostas, for example, and surround them with landscape fabric covered by shredded cedar mulch. This also increases lightness. If I keep a sharp eye on the remaining ivy, I should be able to prevent it from restarting its world domination campaign.
Once I have edited out superfluous branches and ground cover, I can drop in some pots full of colorful annuals. Coleus will do the job handily, possibly assisted by some bright New Guinea impatiens. Both are on sale right now.
Even after the current beautification effort is over, this particular corner of the property will need more thought. When bloom time ends for the roses of Sharon, I’ll cut them back by at least one third, because they are too big in proportion to the size of the area they occupy. I’ll consider calling the tree surgeon to continue slimming down the hollies. I realize now that I have been trying to squeeze an arboretum into space better suited for a couple of good-sized flower beds.
The dark cloud of garden neglect is often lined with silver in the form of a fresh perspective on the plantings. This year I’ve perpetrated the neglect and gained the perspective. As the result, maybe next year I’ll need less time to curse the rambunctious roses-of-Sharon and have more time to smell the Rosa mundi.