Often my gardens are the new home to perennials, shrubs and trees that I didn’t plant. I have really nice soil because every bit of used coffee grounds , banana peel or vegetable scrap finds it way to a little hole in the ground, feeding the worms and enriching the soil. When my former next-door neighbor was a preschooler, he would ring my doorbell and hand me the cap of his eaten strawberry, his banana peel, etc. saying, “This is for your worms.” Off we would go to bury his offering.
Among my “gifts” from Mother Nature are a peony, a red-twig dogwood and a locust tree. I was inspired by a garden club friend who labeled almost everything in her gardens. I followed her example and bought a label-maker and some stainless-steel plant markers. If something is growing and there is no marker, it’s probably a “gift.” As new growth unexpectedly appears, I am inclined to give it a chance and most of the time, it’s a welcome addition. I had to move the dogwood and need to move the peony which is nestled under a yew where certainly I never would have planted it. You should see how lovely the locust tree is in my back-garden bed, especially because Mother Nature placed it right where I would have and it’s almost as tall as its mom in my neighbor’s yard.
Another time to wait and see – but not! forever – is when plants come alive in the spring. I planted a Sputnik Buttonbush (Cephalanthus Occidentalis “Bierberich”) in my back-garden bed to replace a grafted dappled willow tree that went rogue. The ”unique small tree with graceful stems” that was supposed to be 6-8 feet tall grew to 30 feet with crazy branches that no one in their right mind would consider graceful. I pruned and pruned, but was unable to maintain it as a “unique small tree.” The Buttonbush is slow to awaken each spring, but Kent reminds me that it took a long time to leaf out last year. And sure enough, by June it is flourishing and will soon be covered with little white spaceship looking flowers. But if your trees, bushes, etc. haven’t greened up by now, it’s time to remove them.
It’s the last chance for my plantings, too. They’ve had enough time to show up. I almost cry removing the markers of what should have survived, but then my mind races on to what I might plant in their place. Oh, look! The bulb catalogs have arrived!
