The Return of the Cascade Effect

Our garden is now getting full.  This
is what it looked like on July 5, 2020.

Some years back, I proposed a modest theory: that going into the garden to do any one thing begets a need to do at least half a dozen other things before the first thing can be done.  I called it 'The Cascade Effect' and learned horticulturalists took my observation seriously.  A few noted field researchers confirmed my findings. 

But, over time, my theory was consigned to the margins.  “It may happen in a few, rare instances,” one Midwest critic wrote, “but there is no evidence this occurs outside of a handful of gardens, mostly in New England.  The vast majority of gardeners will never experience this phenomenon, and it certainly never happens in Illinois.”

Shopping for plants 
with a mask

This spring of 2020 has been like no other.  Nurseries and garden centers did not open their doors until mid-May and, even then, admitted just a trickle of customers (and some only by appointment).  Betty was offered (and turned down) opportunities to email in her order and have curbside pickup.  The idea of having someone else ‘select’ your plants gets no traction in our household. 

When Massachusetts finally opened up just a crack, the pent-up demand in our home resulted in a horticultural explosion – more than 50 shrubs, perennials, and container-bound annuals were acquired over a space of 30 days.  Naturally, they all had to be quickly gotten into the ground (a plant in a pot is an orphan in need of a home). 

Polystichum acrostichoides

The container plants went quickly, but we had also purchased roughly twenty perennials and a few shrubs.  Our garden – five years ago a sea of loam topped with mulch – has filled in.  But what has also happened is a few early decisions proved to be, well, less than prophetic.  Here is what happened when we set to plant three, small Polystichum acrostichoides (Christmas ferns):

1.     We identified an excellent, semi-shady site behind our house. The ferns would help to further define a border between a moss path and a shrub-and-perennial bed.  The pots were set in an arc, identifying where holes would be dug.

2.    Betty immediately noted several tiarellas and a hosta were in the process of being overgrown by a viburnum a few feet away from the planting site.  The tiarellas and hostas were dug out to await a new home.

Not part of the plan - removing 10
square feet of Carex pennsylvanica

3.   Roughly 10 square feet of carex pennsylvanica was dug out and soil was brought in to replace what clung to the roots of the carex.  While the grasses were not in the path of the three ferns, it was decided the carex was a mistake from the start and needed to be removed before it spread further.  As a side note, this cultivar is notoriously fickle: it usually dies or refuses to spread.  Ours, on the other hand, was lush and seeding freely.

Columbine seeds freely

4.   Also seeding freely were nearby Aquilegia (columbines).  We topped more than 50 plants - none of them close to the site of the ferns - that had completed their bloom and were getting ready for their offspring to take over the garden.

5.   Holes were dug and the first fern was planted.  It didn’t look right.  So, instead, the homeless hosta and tiarellas were planted where the ferns were to have been installed.  Colorful language was used.

6.    It was decided the ferns would look better on an adjacent walkway.  A small clump of solidago was dug out to make way for the ferns. Holes were dug.

Ripening blueberries

7.    Betty noted the five, high-bush blueberries behind the site of the ferns were laden with fruit, though still unripe.  She also noted the squirrels, chipmunks, and birds were patiently watching the bushes for every indication of ripening.

8.    We collected spun fabric, landscape staples, posts, and clothespins, and netted our blueberries.  Some items came out of our gardening inventory.  Others needed to be acquired.  I made note that blueberries were selling for $2.50 a pint at our local supermarket, and the cost of 'new' materials exceeded the value of the crop on our five shrubs by a considerable margin.

The three Christmas ferns in their new home...
plus, the blueberries with their new tents.

9.    After two mornings work to install the tents over our blueberries, we finally planted the three ferns; and went on to the next set of plants to go into the ground.

Make no mistake... the Cascade Effect is real.  But it is also the natural result of gardening in the real world with finite resources.  Sure: with a blank slate and an unlimited budget, it may be possible to create a garden on paper, hand the plan to a good landscaper, and get exactly what you want.  On the other hand, the idea of drawing up a plan and marching into an existing garden with the expectation of flawlessly executing it is the stuff of fiction.  

All 'real' gardening is ultimately done on the fly.  All plans are subject to change.  And, anyone who says different has never been the Principal Undergardener to a serious gardener.