THIS IS THE YEAR
Every February baseball fans wake up at the beginning of Spring Training and all of them say, “This is the year!” You know the rest: “This is the year the Mets–or Cubs or Cardinals–will go all the way.” There is a palpable feeling of excitement and a renewed sense of expectancy. If you are a gardener, especially if you are a passionate gardener, you know the feeling very well.
I had it beginning in February and I have it still. The only difference between this and other years is that this is definitely “the year.”
Sometime around New Year’s I made the astonishing discovery that I am not getting any younger. After that sank in, I decided that instead of becoming a contestant on American Idol or getting a tattoo or flying off to Patagonia or doing any number of other wild and crazy things, I would take one year and make my garden as perfect as it could be. I resolved that I, like the late great garden writer Beverley Nichols, would make my garden so lovely that I would feel comfortable writing a book about it and inviting the whole world–or at least that portion of the world that could get to my place–to see my beds and borders. Nichol’s book was Garden Open Today, published in 1962. I haven’t decided on the title of my book yet.
Then a funny thing happened. A friend called to ask if I would open my garden to the public one day next fall for a fundraiser.
In horticultural parlance, an offer like that is called “motivation”. My impulsive self said “yes” before my sane self was able to say “no”.
About twenty seconds after I committed myself and the garden, I started to think about the long list of chores that I have to do before September. The old fence around the back yard is about to disintegrate, which means a new one is absolutely necessary. It will need to have a gate so that people can go from the front garden to the back garden on either side of the house. Two or three shrubs, which have been pruned into the shape of small trees, will be moved to facilitate the flow of traffic through the layout. Of course this must be done very soon to minimize the stress on the plants.
As I go about the business of spring garden clean-up, I contemplate the enormous amount of mulch that I’ll need to augment the large amount of mulch that I put down last year. It would be nice to have helpers to do this work, but even if I could afford them, my garden is so densely planted that they would probably tromp all over the plants and smother the seedlings. If I start now, and put down a few bags a week, the garden will be fully mulched by Labor Day and the weeding chores will be manageable.
At this time of year my plant holding area fills up with all the “must haves” that I have acquired from catalog vendors, local nurseries and spring plant sales. I also need to get them into the ground sooner rather than later, if only so I don’t have to water them as often. Then there are all those seeds that I ordered back in the dead of winter when I was absolutely dazzled by catalog prose. They are not going to grow unless I get them out of their packets and into something more comfortable, preferably nice fresh potting mix.
If this is truly “the year” all the plants will have to be grouped attractively, edited carefully and trimmed with care. Losers will be unceremoniously evicted. The beds all need to be edged or re-edged. New stepping stones should be positioned in high traffic areas. My back lawn is now a completely unplanned medieval-style flowery mead full of purple and white violets, runaway ajuga and extraordinarily prolific Spanish bluebells. It could probably benefit from the addition of some actual grass.
The composter, currently holding court at the very back of the back garden, will be moved to a place where it is completely out of site. The ornamental wishing well, installed in the middle of the backyard by my predecessor will be decapitated and made into a giant stone planter and filled with enough tall specimens to make it a credible vertical accent.
All of this is daunting if I obsess about it for too long. Fortunately when I am actually in the garden–rather than thinking about it late at night–the process of weeding overtakes the process of worrying. Everything looks beautiful right now, in the first giant flush of spring bloom, and it is tempting to just stand in the middle of the back or front garden and enjoy it all. But, as baseball fans know, you can’t get to the World Series if you lollygag early in the season. Perfectionism will not stand in my way. Laziness will not stand in my way. Crabgrass will not stand in my way. Even drought will not stand in my way. By the end of the summer my garden will be as lovely as I can make it. Then I can channel Beverley Nichols and invite him and everyone else to stop by and look at the flowers.