Life, as the saying goes, is full of surprises, a never-ending stream of things that aren’t what they seem or what we expect them to be, a theatre of unanticipated occurrences and random, but significant events, small wonders, occasional tiny miracles, serendipity, and strange coincidences.
Our gardens are very much the same. Each one is a dynamic universe in miniature, inhabited by a vagabond community of plants that arrive via a surprising variety of routes, many without our say-so.
I have, for example, no idea how evening primrose found its way into our new garden. None. But somehow it did, something I discovered only when its flowers exploded into lemon-yellow bloom this month. Likewise, who knows how and why the garden’s purple opium poppies turned out to be an entirely different snow-white variety? Or why some of the slate-blue sweet pea I sowed last January are shocking sherbet pink, or why those orange marigolds are in fact pale yellow, all elements of the planting that proved beyond my control. Was it a mix-up on the part of the seed supplier? A temporary lapse of concentration on someone’s part? Or the universe having a laugh.
Similarly, those egg-yolk yellow dahlias flowering their socks off are not of my doing. Or the viper’s bugloss. Or the white-flowered delphinium labelled as blue, or the random forget-me-nots, verbena, bupleurum and feverfew seedlings which have begun to seed themselves decoratively about the pathways.
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Some must have hitched a lift as tiny seeds concealed in soil, or on the soles of muddy garden boots, or via the droppings of visiting birds, powerful proof of nature’s determination to seek out life wherever it can. Others presumably snuck their root systems into host plants gifted by friends, living examples of the endless botanical road trip that allows so many vagrant species to endure by hopscotching their way from one garden to another. Others are impostors accidentally mislabelled by the nursery or garden centre they came from; charming cuckoos in the nest that found a way to survive. Exactly how do we chart the journey of a plant? Mathematicians and statisticians could spend a lifetime plotting their circuitous routes.
This is not to say that most of these generous sprinkles of garden magic aren’t welcome, because they are. So I’m completely charmed by the tiny copse of self-seeded wild cherry trees that have made themselves entirely at home in a corner of our country garden. And intrigued by the toadstools and mushrooms that popped up overnight, as if by magic, beneath the garden’s two stately beech trees. And I love the near-perfect ring of young hawthorn trees that has somehow emerged slap-bang in the middle of the meadow, and the wild spotted orchids that appeared at their feet. Who wouldn’t?
Spontaneity, I’ve learned, is a key ingredient in the making of the best gardens just as it is with the best parties, fuelling our creativity and encouraging us to improvise.
It’s about learning to accommodate the unexpected rather than resisting or resenting it. Allowing ourselves to gently change course and celebrate what nature gives us because (a) it makes an awful lot of sense and (b) it’s an awful lot more fun.
This is not to say that I’m going to let nature entirely have its own way, much as I respect it. After all, as gardeners our self-appointed role is to constantly edit and refine the community of plants that grow in our gardens, choosing and nurturing certain species or varieties for their suitability for the site, the soil, the climate, and the aspect on the basis that they will perform well and are fit for purpose. This, of course, is also what nature does so well in the wild, on a scale and level of complexity that we can never possibly match. So by studying how, why and what it does and learning from it, we can become better gardeners; which is why most of the plants that have appeared unbidden in my new garden are very welcome to join the party. I’m itching to see how they get on.
Not that all these charming gate crashers will stay around forever. Some, for example, that threaten to become invasive will quickly be shown the door. So I’ll be keeping a very close eye on that solitary evening primrose plant (Oenothera biennis), a vigorous species with a reputation for self-seeding too abundantly in gardens that suit its fondness for full sun and a sharply-drained soil. And I’ll make sure to keep those forget-me-not and verbena seedlings in check too, knowing their propensity to take over.
Other species will be bid a fond farewell when they eventually leave the garden of their own free will, as the planting matures and the growing conditions evolve to create habitats that may no longer suit them. But my hope is that others will make themselves permanently at home, forming self-sustaining communities that endure. Those white poppies, for example. That pretty feverfew. That ring of hawthorn. New friends that have appeared unbidden, magicked there by the universe.
This week in the garden
Late July is a great time to divide and replant clumps of bearded irises, which begin to lose vigour after about three-five years in the ground. Use a garden fork to gently lift each clump and then a sharp, clean garden knife to slice it into viable sections, discarding the woody centre of the clump. Cut back the sword-shaped leaves of these sun-loving perennials to about 20cm to prevent root rock and replant the divisions quickly, making sure to plant shallowly so that the upper surface of the fleshy rhizomes is exposed to the light, and positioning the fan of leaves to the north of the rhizome to make sure the latter receives as much direct sun as possible. Choose a growing spot where the plants will have a very sharply drained soil in full sun, and work a little slow-release organic fertiliser (one with a low nitrogen ratio) into the planting hole. Label each young transplant and water well, making sure to water fortnightly until they properly establish.
Many kinds of early summer flowering perennials benefit from being cut back hard at this time of year as a way to encourage new fresh growth and remove tatty foliage. Examples include delphiniums, lupins, oriental poppies, herbaceous peonies, hardy geraniums (cranesbills), Alchemilla mollis and geums, some of which will also produce a second, smaller flush of flowers if treated this way. For best results, always generously water plants after cutting back and give them a fortnightly liquid feed to boost growth levels.
Some early summer flowering shrubs that have recently finished blooming also benefit from being gently pruned at this time of year as a way to encourage lots of new healthy shoots that will flower next year as well as to keep established plants from getting too large. Examples include philadelphus, weigela, kolkwitzia, deutzia, tamarix and Viburnum plicatum. For pruning advice for specific species, see rhs.org.uk
Dates for your diary
Continuing until Sunday, August 1st, this year’s Carlow Garden Festival line-up includes an impressive variety of talks, workshops and garden visits by a range of experts including James Alexander Sinclair, Adam Frost, Leonie Cornelius, Joe Swift, Arthur Shackleton, Shirley Lanigan, Turtle Bunbury, Arthur Cole, Orlaith Murphy, Stephanie Hafferty, Belinda Jupp, James Wong, Tom Coward, Jim Gardiner, Ken Cox, Finola Reid, Fiann Ó Nualláin, Éanna Ní Lamhna and Fionnuala Fallon, see carlowgardentrail.com
Friday, July 29th-Saturday, 30th July, Maynooth University, Co Kildare, the 74th Annual FIBKA Beekeeping Summer School will take place with a wealth of talks, training sessions, practical workshops and demonstrations, trade stands and exhibits plus the Irish National Honey Show, see irishbeekeeping.ie
Sunday, July 31st (10am-5pm), Farmleigh Plant Fair, Farmleigh, Phoenix Park, Dublin, with 25 of the country’s best specialist nurseries in attendance selling plants and garden goods, a talk by Mary Keenan, editor of the Irish Garden magazine and owner of Gash gardens and Nursery, plus a floral display by Chelsea gold medal-winner and master dahlia grower Christopher White, see farmleigh.ie
