Intelligent design?

Like most gardeners, I love to visit plant fairs, nurseries, garden openings and all the other places where plants are available to buy. And like most gardeners, I succumb to the lures of those plants without regard to whether I have room for them and sometimes without regard to whether I can provide them with the conditions they need. Sometimes, at the time of purchase the required conditions may not be known. Sellers are apt to go all vague when asked, for fear of losing a sale.

It is normal for me to have a small collection of plants kicking about waiting to be planted. The decision as to where to put something can be deferred indefinitely, in favour of keeping it in a pot. That is rarely a good decision as very few plants are easy to keep growing well for more than a season or two in a pot and also because almost all pot grown plants need to be overwintered under cover, provision of which is very limited.



Helenium 'Monique', still awaiting planting.

I should think that most of the additions to my garden are impulse buys of this sort, with planned purchases and gifts making up the rest. I began to wonder whether my purchasing could be made more sensible if I gave some thought to what I wanted to get out of the garden in the first place.

I quickly realised that there are many things  that I want from it, some of them quite contradictory. I want it to be uplifting and I want it to be calming. I want it to be interesting and I want it to be impactful. I want variety and detail but I want it to work well as a whole. I want there to be things that need doing but I don’t want it to be a burden. Each requirement begs a basketful of ‘so how do I achieve that’ questions.

Trying to do too much leads to confusion, but I'm not too bothered.

Having been in the same place for over a quarter of a century helps because to a considerable extent the garden has haphazardly and arbitrarily been steered in the right general direction. The weak and feeble non-performers have gone. The out and out thugs have gone. The performers have been propagated and given more space. More of the same or similar have been acquired. The overall effect is less important to me than the detail; I accept that and if others don’t like it, tough!

Over time, gaps, all year round or seasonal, have been plugged with appropriate additions. Things have been moved to better locations for a plethora of reasons. Occasionally quite big chunks have been cleared and replanted. The inevitable cycle of plants getting bigger and bigger, or dying from old age or disease has been dealt with. Very few deaths are mourned for long and almost always something different goes in the space created.

Astelia chathamica, a plant I wouldn't be without.

If someone decided they liked all or part of it so much they wanted to recreate it elsewhere, it would be impossible to do. Some plants are decades old, some a few weeks. The exact soil and light conditions could not be replicated and the weather enjoyed over the time my plants have been growing will not be repeated for the growth of the new version. I cannot see how you could design your way to where my garden is now. In reality a garden design, like a genome, is more recipe than template. The uncertainty of the finished result can be reduced by restricting the plant choice to highly reliable and predictable subjects.

I’ve convinced myself that my approach to plant buying is something I can live with. In fact, I think it’s the best approach for my established garden. There is always a space somewhere that needs filling, or something that needs replacing. Each plant is purchased because I think it will contribute something that I want. Planted sensibly there’s a good chance that it will. That’s why next weekend’s plant fair is marked on the calendar and unless something unexpected crops up, I shall be there.

Azalea seedling; not good enough, its replacement is ready to go in.

Perhaps what I like most of all is to be able to stroll round the garden and find something new happening; something flowering for the first time, shoots emerging after a drab winter, a flower proving popular with bees.  To have had exactly the same plants in the garden for the last 25 years is too ghastly to contemplate. As much as I love it when the older residents perform each year, there’s something special about a new arrival.