Garden tours are educational and instructive. They open your eyes to new vistas and ways of
thinking about horticulture. They are,
in short, wonderful.
Except when it’s your garden that’s on tour. I know this because, last month, our garden
was the one everybody wanted to see.
Three years ago it was a blank slate |
Betty and I began planting our ‘dream retirement
garden’ in June 2015. As readers of this
column know, we started with a true ‘tabula rasa’ – we had taken out 947 cubic
yards of what could politely be called ‘builder’s crud’ and replaced it with 18
inches of screened loam into which we would plant trees, shrubs and perennials…
and not a single blade of grass.
On the back patio |
Fending off requests to see the garden was easy for
the first two years – there really wasn’t a lot to see. Last year, we pleaded for more time with the
explanation that, well, we needed more time.
Trees needed to grow some more; shrubs still had to spread out their
roots, and perennials were just starting to fill in the gaps between them.
The back garden |
But this is the start of the garden’s fourth
year. That old but accurate aphorism
about “sleep, creep, leap” has proven true.
And so, Betty agreed to open our garden for two hours for Master
Gardeners.
You would think that having a group in your garden
would be a snap… put out signs, bake some cookies and set out the
lemonade. No, that’s not the way it
happens. And it especially doesn’t happen that way if the group in question has
more than a passing knowledge of horticulture and a keen eye for detail.
The view from the bench |
For three weeks before the event, Betty labeled
plants. We have three viburnums behind
the house. We even know what kind of
viburnums they were because we’ve saved all their paperwork. But which one is which? This is why Google Images exists, and I
suspect the fine folks in Mountain View are compiling quite an interesting, if
puzzling dossier about our internet search habits. And, of course, common names are so…
common. Why call it an ‘arrowwood
viburnum’ when ‘Viburnum dentatum’ is
more botanically correct?
Shasta daisies are at the 'leap' stage |
And then, of course, there’s the weeding and
deadheading. Every bed was gone over
multiple times, and paths were plucked of everything even resembling a
weed. Of course, our paths are also
supposed to be ‘natural’. Our heucheras
and tiarellas are prolific self-seeders.
One especially fecund cultivar had cute brown and gold seedlings popping
up everywhere. How many stayed and how
many were composted was a question being answered up to the morning of the tour.
The asclepias bloomed just in time |
There is also the ‘prayer factor’, otherwise known as
“will it bloom in time?” and “will it still
be in bloom?” We have a stand of
gorgeous Asclepias tuberosa, also
knows as butterfly weed. It is golden yellow and is a magnet for every pollinator in town. Up until Saturday morning, it appeared as
though only a single stem would be showing color. But nearby, an entire colony of Asclepias syriaca – rose milkweed to the
rest of us – blossomed with white flower clusters that, while not as showy as
its cousin, perfumed the air magnificently.
They were a perfect complement to the Asclepias tuberosa, which opened a dozen flowers just as cars began
arriving.
No one seemed to believe there's not a blade of grass on the property |
Finally, there was the scourge of parking. We are on a narrow, winding road that is a
favorite of bicyclists and walkers. We
have a parking pad at the front of the property that will hold three cars and a
driveway that will accommodate four more.
Fearing being blocked in, no one wanted to use the driveway and, when
the pad filled up, visitors began parking on the street (Betty had provided
detailed instruction of how to park at a nearby elementary school).
A river of geranium |
Visitors ignored the school parking option. They not only parked on the street; they
parked on both sides of this narrow,
winding road. It did not take long for
the local police to take notice and we soon had two cruisers, one with flashing
lights, in front of our house. It took
all of Betty’s charms and persuasive powers to get everything back to
normal. I am in awe of her for this.
Was it worth it?
Of course. The compliments were
both genuine and numerous. People said
they learned and called what Betty
has created, ‘the new American yard’. Am
I in a hurry to do it again soon? If you
have to ask….
And then, we had the garden to ourselves again! |
(full disclosure: I believe in survival of the fittest.) My neighbor fought for years to get a lawn to grow in front of his east-facing house, and swore the other neighbor's oak trees were killing his grass. A few years ago, he took a turn for the better, eliminated the sparse grass, brought in new loom (again) AND PLANTED VEGETABLES AND PERRENIALS! I have the luxury of viewing his garden, and he patiently admires my wildflowers...
ReplyDeleteHooray for your neighbor, Terry!
DeleteAll your painstaking work is paying off. Congratulations Betty and Neal!
ReplyDelete