We came to this decision not out of any hippy-dippy, new age belief that, when it comes to what should or shouldn’t decorate our landscape, Mother Nature knows best. She doesn’t. She plants way too many weeds in all the wrong places.
The reasoning behind our laissez-faire landscaping modus operandi is threefold: (1) we don’t remember what and where the old perennials are; (2) we don’t know yet what new plants are going to show up now that, due to extensive tree removal, one-half of our growing area has been involuntarily converted from Connecticut shade-grown to blisteringly solar irradiated; and (3) plants move.
We actually
have gone through the amnesiac phase before. In fairness to us, one reason we
are not sure of the identities of many of our perennial repeaters is that we in
fact did not know what they were when we took them in. Some came from friends – who being friends –
we never really question when they offer us something horticultural. They probably told us what they were and how
they grow – at least we hope so.
So we have
the nameless, over-reaching ground cover from Ed; the anonymous tiny white
flowers from Judy (the ones that are not Feverfew [also from Judy] which we do
recall, although not exactly where they are – and definitely not the Tansy
[Judy again], the location of which I am constantly aware because I spend most
of my waking hours from early April through late October trying to keep it from
spreading out of there); the two patches of slightly different tall, small
sunflowers and/or daisies one of which we was given by our daughter-in-law
Monica in New Mexico and the other by Richard formerly of Wethersfield – we
just aren’t sure who gave us what; and many others that we are sure were gifted
to Marsha and me, but not by whom.
We also have
quite a few bushes and shrubs that we have literally rescued from death’s door
at such places as the now defunct Heritage Garden at the Town Hall and an
overgrown house garden that the new owner just “wanted out of here.” No knowledgeable person was around during
these guerilla gardening activities, so in general I had no idea what I was
taking when I took them. Even less idea
when I planted them a week later. And
absolutely not a clue when they reappeared the next year – presumably in the
same spot I had originally placed them.
I actually
figured out the identity of one of the adopted plants after it reached full
bloom. It was Decorative Fennel that had been removed and replanted before any
of its distinctive yellow umbels or licorice aroma were up and running. But most of the time if the plant arrives
under a cloak of secrecy we don’t ask any questions.
Last year
Rose of Sharon, Flowering Crab, Thistle and Pokeweed spontaneously appeared in
the new sunny part of our yard. All but
the Pokeweed are back so far – plus honeysuckle is already muscling out some of
the shade lovers that apparently kept it under wraps all these years. We have it in another part of the yard, but
never, ever in this particular location – so I am not sure if it has migrated
or just, having lain dormant for lo these many years, been given new life by
the rays of sunshine now pouring down on it.
The
aforementioned Fennel is on the move – migrating outward after spending several
years confining itself to the garage wall at the back of one of our
gardens. Now it seems to be striving to
fill any available piece of soil within its seed-throwing range.
A while back
we rescued a small plant with red tipped leaves and short white feathery
flowers. After two years of good
behavior, it is now aggressively marching eastward at the other end of the
garden from the Fennel – as well as forming a second small commune in what is
now the most sun-ravaged of our perennial beds, across the lawn and about
thirty yards to the south of the parental pod.
All this –
plus myriads of unrecognizable small green potentially perennial looking shoots
popping up among and between.
The longer I
garden, the taller I let the unknowns grow – just to be certain. And the longer I garden, the more unknowns
there are.
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