All of us rejoice when a plant in our garden does well. But sometimes it does too well–who among us doesn’t have a surfeit of one thing or another? Take wood anemone (Anemone nemerosa) at left. Now this is a lovely woodland plant, but it’s a rambunctious one. A gardening friend passed some along to me a couple some years ago, and I’ve been yanking ‘em out ever since. The plant has leaves very like that of masterwort (Astrantia major), which is another plant I grow, so it fools me into thinking it’s the more polite plant. Until I see its pretty white flowers, which are a dead giveaway. I do like wood anemone, but it spreads like mad with running, underground roots that form new plants even if only the tiniest bits are left in the soil after you yank it out.
Like many of my other invasives, I’ve moved some wood anemone to the front garden where only the very toughest plants survive in the rootbound soil under the Norway maple. Survive? The darn thing is colonizing! Meanwhile, the area out back that I thought I’d thoroughly cleared last year has a fine new crop of plants. Sigh. You have to give it marks for perseverance.
A few weeks ago, I was volunteering at an advice clinic at Islington Nurseries in Toronto’s west end–part of what I do as a Master Gardener. One man came in clutching a small fistful of leaves. “This noxious weed is everywhere in my lawn and in my flower beds,” he fumed. “I don’t know what it is and I want to know if there’s anything I can put on it to kill it dead.”
I took one look and saw that he was holding a handful of as-yet-unbloomed forget-me-nots. I was able to reassure him that these plants are self-seeding annuals, and if he didn’t want any next year he could simply mow them down before they set seed. There was no need to spray them with anything.
Personally, I love forget-me-nots, which sow themselves merrily in my garden hither and yon. Once their bloom is past its best and the plants look almost mouldy and seedy, I simply pull them out and shake the seeds where I want them to come up next year. It’s as simple as that.
Sweet woodruff is another plant I was delighted to welcome but now slightly less so. This is a pretty little groundcover that’s at home in a woodland garden and covers itself with starry white flowers every spring (seen left, with a few forget-me-nots thrown in for good measure). It has a dainty, almost frothy appearance.
Unfortunately, it’s also a rampager in my garden, though easier to keep under control than the wood anemone. I foolishly planted some in a little semicircle area where I wanted to create a patchwork of low groundcovers in different colours and textures, and the sweet woodruff is trying to muscle them all out, including the expensive clump of Canadian wild ginger (Asarum canadense). Naughty, naughty! I’ll have to get out there next week and show it who’s boss. (And yes, there’s plenty growing in the front garden as well.)
Most experienced gardeners know it’s best to invest in a well-grown, top-quality plant. Well tended plants have the vigour and stamina needed to make the successful transition from nursery pot to garden. Once in awhile, though, I’m drawn to a less-than-stellar specimen at an end-of-season sale. Something about it telegraphs, “please give me a chance,” and I do.
Ditto this Japanese maple, which I rescued quite late one fall for $20. A few of its branches had been broken off and it was a bit lopsided, but basically it appeared to be healthy and just needed some gentle pruning. I placed it in the back of the garden where its spindly condition wouldn’t be so noticeable.
A lone candelabra or Japanese primula (Primula japonica, far left) appeared in the garden this year. I didn’t plant it, but it seems to have made itself right at home. And columbine (Aquilegia spp., left) in various colours seeds itself hither and yon, including in between the patio pavers.
Take a look around your garden and see what unexpected gifts you might find out there. And keep your eyes open at the nursery for those orphan plants that deserve a good home and a fighting chance.
I’ve been reading 
Many of us who garden on a city plot have to contend with a fair amount of shade. Some gardeners think this means saying buh-bye to colour, but that’s not true. There’s so much you can plant to add oomph to even the darkest, dankest corners. (My front garden is a special challenge, for there I deal with the dreaded dry shade, thanks to a moisture-wicking, nutrient-sucking Schwedler Norway maple, which thrives on a tiny patch of ground.) So out I went with my camera, to give you a few examples of what I mean. The main photo at left shows the emerging lower foliage of a ‘Golden Shadows’ pagoda dogwood, as seen against the dark green of periwinkle, now in bloom.
Nearby is a healthy clump of the brunnera called ‘Jack Frost,’ whose silvery leaves look fabulous throughout the season. Above all is that trusty standby, an old, shapely redtwig dogwood (Cornus alba ‘Elegantissima’) with its green-and-white variegated leaves. So greens, whites and silvers lighten and brighten up this area.
And I can’t praise barrenwort (Epimedium spp., far left) enough. Also known as bishop’s hat, this plant is very happy in my garden. I have the rosy, purply and yellow types. The flowers are dainty but it’s the foliage I really like. Small, delicate and airy, it combines well with other shapes and doesn’t overpower (you really want to avoid the “moundy roundy” look you can get with a surfeit of heucheras and perennial geraniums).
The Japanese painted fern (far left) is one of my favourites. I have a fine clump of them in the back, near a Japanese maple and a dark-burgundy-leafed ‘Diabolo’ ninebark, and the veins of the ferns echo the deep burgundy. It took a few years for these ferns to get established with any sort of vigour, so don’t lose heart if yours look poopy. They’ll come along. However, they haven’t done well in the front garden, where the fierce roots of the Norway maple make life a real struggle for all but the most determined (and shallow rooted) of plants. Others that don’t do well out in the front include hostas, which need more room for their roots, so they stay small and sulky.
Another fabulous fern is the maidenhair (near left), with its graceful, black, wiry stems. This clump resides in the back near some hellebores and an arching and very thorny Acanthopanax sieboldianus. The leaf-and-frond shapes complement each other nicely. And I’m working on a green-and-gold corner that’s just starting to knit together. It’s basically a combo of golden Japanese forest grass (Hakonechloa macra ‘Aureola’), ‘Bowles Golden’ sedge, various green-and-gold hostas, and so forth.
Note the Japanese forest grass is a slow grower, and takes awhile to become established. But it’s worth the wait. For without help, this area could be dark and miserable. Though still a bit sparse, the golden tones do much to brighten things up. In spring, the creamy yellow, fragrant ‘Elizabeth’ magnolia nearby is underplanted with yellow-flowered barrenwort and daffodils. It does my heart good to see them.
Newsletter
Twitter
Facebook
Youtube
RSS