The Abandoned Garden Plot

There are 75 plots in the Medfield Community Garden, and my responsibility, as its co-manager, is to get those plots filled for the beginning of the season and keep them filled through to the end of October. Returning gardeners take at least 50 of those spaces, but I still need to ‘solicit’ to find new occupants for one out of three or one out of four spaces.

The Medfield Community
Garden

My recruiting materials – primarily on social media – emphasize the benefits: fresh, organic produce; camaraderie; and an opportunity to ‘give back’ as well as to meet new and interesting people. The obligations are explained in a one-page document, and boil down to ‘keep your garden and your aisles free of weeds’ and ‘treat your gardening neighbor with respect’.

I go into April knowing from 15 years’ experience that a few gardeners will find their summer plans have changed, or the time commitment is too great. Usually, I have folks on a wait list; ready to step in and pick up a hoe and trowel. If there is no wait list, I keep a mental list of ambitious gardeners who are willing to take on additional space.

My plot is tidy

Every few years, though, there is a garden that simply gets abandoned. No notice, no apology. The gardener – who has made the financial and time commitment of paying for the plot, putting up a fence, and planting crops – stops showing up. I send the gardener messages but get no response. I do not know if the reason is a family tragedy or just a loss of interest.

Edmund Prescottano volunteered
to help remove the weeds

This is one of those years. And, today, I and a volunteer – a retired veterinarian named Edmund Prescottano who has a heart of gold – went to work clearing the plot. The first thing I noticed is that everything in the garden was new: fencing, posts, tomato cages, row covers. The second thing was that the gardener made every effort to do things right: he or she had created earthen raised beds by digging trenches and mounding the displaced soil. Newspapers had been laid into the trenches to reduce the need for weeding. And, the gardener had followed the advice to not only bury the bottom of his or her plastic fence several inches into the soil to deter burrowing pests, but to add a time-consuming separate chicken wire fencing layer at least six inches above and below the soil level to defeat vermin that would otherwise chew their way through plastic.

A ground-level view of 
just how tall the weeds are

Why did I wait until the end of July to, essentially, ‘foreclose’ on the garden plot?  Why didn’t I do it three or four weeks ago? The reason is that I don’t like to lose gardeners. I want them to come to the garden, see from other plots what their garden could look like, clear the weeds, and start re-planting.
I guess, at heart, I’m one of those soft-hearted ogres. I assume the best in people: that the reason for dropping out of the garden was one tied to misfortune. Yes, it would have been polite to respond, and the clearing would have been infinitely easier. But it’s now in the past.

By late this afternoon, the plot
was three-quarters cleared

I already know what will happen after the plot is cleared. There are already squash vines ready to plant, and those vines will fairly quickly overspread the plot. There is also a supply of cardboard to fill the spaces between plants. The squash the vines yield will all go to the two food cupboards we serve.

Because it is the end of July, the weeds are tall and well entrenched. It is not just a matter of hoeing and pulling: every square foot requires sifting soil to find the weed roots that will otherwise sprout anew: this garden has to be made ready not just to plant this summer; it also has to not be a weed-seed-infested trap awaiting its occupant next spring.

This time next month, with luck and
hard work, the plot will look like
its neighbor

What becomes of the fencing and other materials? Do I return it to the gardener who abandoned it? Or, do I add it to the collection of ‘Ogre fencing’ that is loaned to new gardeners and tell the gardener losing it is the price paid for not replying to all those emails?

There is no moral to the story; no larger lesson to be learned. A gardener came, clearly with every intention of staying, but something happened.  And, for some reason, the gardener did not communicate his or her change of heart. End of story. Life goes on. And, so does the garden.

On the inside, looking out

September 2015: the Conservation Commission is
satisfied with what Betty and I have wrought

Ten years ago in April, Betty and I moved into our newly-built ‘dream retirement house’, our seventh and final home. After decades of moving into houses built by someone else, this one – finally – was of our own design. The lawns and gardens of those other properties were, of course, also someone else’s idea of ‘appropriate’.

You should be able to admire
a garden from inside a home

Just as we had specific ideas about the layout of our house, so Betty had an entire notebook of thoughts about the garden’s design and content. And one of those ideas was something I had never thought of: a garden being something to be admired from inside the home as well as while standing in it.

Her thinking was eminently practical, even though it seemed to go against so many conceptions about "what gardens are for". Betty’s thought was based on the observation that no one wants to be standing in a garden on an 87 degree day with a dew point of 75... and New England has far too many such days. The plants, though, love that kind of weather. So, why not think about sight lines from inside the house when you're getting ready to create that garden? 

That inspiration guided the siting of the house on its lot. Instead of placing our home the same distance back from the street as our neighbors (as was the existing house), we opted to build thirty feet farther back. Doing so provided two advantages: a much deeper garden in front to provide additional privacy, and a clear line of sight in three directions for a large screened porch the we suspected would be where we spent much of our summer hours (and from which this essay is written).

A full-sized window in
the master bathroom?

A view to the outside also affected the design and placement of windows. It takes an act of faith to place a 32” x 48” window in the middle of your master bath. Yes, it has shutters; but they’re left open. To create a full view of the back garden from our new home’s living room, four continuous, extra-tall windows spanning ten feet were incorporated into the design. The library at our soon-to-be old home had been the place where we spent many hours reading or listening to music. The ‘new’ library was designed to have three windows, each with a separate vista.

The view from the kitchen

In October 2014, and with the shell of the house now in place, Betty began sketching a garden concept – imagining the view out of each window. Nothing was cast in stone because we were still at least six months away from choosing the trees that would anchor each bed. But the intent was clear: ensure whatever trees were chosen did not block views from windows. A line of shrubs – each distinct in color, leaf, and form so as not to be mistaken for a hedge – would go across the front of the property to provide a primary privacy screen.

One view from the screened porch

For the first half dozen years, the ‘inside out’ concept was moot. Shrubs and trees were small and seemingly dispersed around a sea of mulch. The lower shutters in the master bath definitely remained closed. Then, seemingly almost overnight, it all came together. The ‘groups of three’ shrubs we had planted (such as Fothergilla, Itea, and Clethra) merged into visually arresting masses.

Ten feet of windows capture the rear 
garden from the living room.

In this, the garden’s eleventh season, the ‘inside out’ philosophy has been verified. The view from the screened porch from every direction is remarkable (even though an allowance was made to allow two Viburnum nudum ‘Winterthur’ specimens to grow to their full, ten-foot height; the better to display their June flowering). The view from the window over the kitchen sink is of blueberry bushes where, at any given time, a rotating cast of birds are gorging on the 2025 crop. And, the views from the library are, well, take a look at the photos. ‘Sublime’ comes to mind.

The view out the front door

My favorite view may be out the front door. A bluestone sidewalk gently bends to the left; flanked on either side by low plantings of perennials that gradually rise to a sweep of Rudbeckia and Monarda, beyond which are those clumps of shrubs. A seldom-used second-floor guest bedroom (as part of aging in place, the rooms we use daily are all on the main floor) has the same view as the front entry, but elevated.

Except for the obvious one, all of the accompanying photos were taken on July 20, 2025.

Thank you, Facebook

One of the pleasures of being part of a Facebook 'interest group' is that it can frequently cause you to, well, get off your arse and do the right thing. Today was one of those days.
I am part of a group with ungainly name, 'Bringing Nature Home - a Native Plant Community'. It is populated by an enthusiastic group of gardeners that have read the books, and espouse the wisdom, of a gentleman named Doug Tallamy. His thesis is that the quarter-acre, perfectly manicured grass lawn is an ecological desert. Instead, as much as practical of that quarter acre ought to be native plants that are friendly to pollinators.

It was truly a blank slate...

Ten years ago, Betty, took that philosophy to heart when she designed the garden for 26 Pine Street. In her vision, it wouldn't just minimize the amount of grass: it would eliminate it. Instead, there would be pollinator-friendly trees, shrubs, perennials and ground covers; about 90 to 95% of which would be native.

The photo I posted

I periodically post photos of our garden to this group. Several days ago, I posted several photos of things in bloom on the property, including one of a striking butterfly weed called Asclepias 'Hello Yellow', The background of the photo showed the spent flower spikes of a stand of Carolina lupine (Thermopsis villosa) and, peeking over the top, several flower spikes of an oakleaf hydrangea (Querecifolia). Many people 'liked' the photo and one viewer asked about those background plants, which caused me to wonder why I was, in essence, hiding the oakleaf hydrangea from view.

My next photo - minus the spent seed heads.

So, I cut the lupine flower spikes and, suddenly, there was a great view of not only the oakleaf hydrangea but also a wonderful, dark-leaved ninebark . I posted that photo, which engendered discussion of whether cutting down seedheads was a good idea (mine stay on the property where they become food for birds and critters). But another viewer inquired as to how much space the hydrangea took up, and what requirements it had for such successful blooms.

The Spirea is the yellowish plant in the
center of the photo. It had quadrupled
in size in a decade.

Which caused me to go out and get a 'real' answer rather than make a guess. In the process, I realized the hydrangea was being squeezed by the ninebark, but even more so by a volunteer summersweet - and all were being encroached on by a spirea which was relentlessly enlarging its footprint. The spirea is the lone non-native in the above discussion.
The spirea has been there since the garden was planned in 2015. Yes, it is non-native, but it is attractive and has a long bloom. But it had also quadrupled in size. Common sense said it had to go. I had even allowed as much in my response to one commentor.

By noon, the spirea was history, and there
was lots of room for plants to expand.

This morning, I went out and removed it. And realized in the process it ought to have come out years ago. with the spirea gone, the four remaining shrubs (there are actually two oakleaf hydrangea) can spread out toward the morning sun. Two ground covers, a Bar Harbor juniper and bearberry (which in fact has a berry beloved by ursines) will vie for the 'floor' space.

The garden at noon today. The 'hole' where the spirea
was located is just above where the driveway meets
the parking pad along the street.

Were it not for those questions and comments, entropy would have decreed that the spirea would stay because... of some semi-plausible reason I would invent. Now, though, the deed is done and the garden will be better for it over the long run.
Thank you, Facebook, and especially 'Bringing Nature Home - a Native Plant Community', for getting me to go outside and do some honest work when where the humidity would have otherwise had me indoors all day.
(click on the photos to see how each one fits into the story)