When I planted the butterfly garden in the front beds a few years ago, I followed a neat little plan from Better Homes & Gardens. In a moment of sweet serendipity, the plan was laid out for a plot almost exactly the size and shape of my bed and Thorn Creek just happened to be offering milkweed and butterfly weed, two necessary components, in their annual native plant sale.
I carefully measured and carefully planted, following the grid and envisioning the end results – swathes of yellow, red, purple, gold and green, arranged in swirls and curves within the bed.
Then Mother Nature laughed at me. As the plants grew and bloomed, dried and scattered seed, roots spreading and drilling through the soil, the plan grew fuzzy, started to crumble and now, is almost altogether non-existent. Meant to be in the back of the bed because of their towering height, milkweed seeds have now floated into the front border, sadly out of proportion with the lower-growing plants placed there so artfully. Coreopsis spread out of tight bunches into an absolute patch. Oregano recognizes no boundaries and much has to be ripped out each spring to keep it in check. Ground cover has crept into the lawn. A volunteer sunflower grows awkwardly smashed against the driveway. It is a disorganized mess that needs thinning.
With the loss this past spring of the honey locust, putting in a butterfly bed in the back yard has been on my mind all summer. For months now, we’ve been stacking newspaper in the garage, like subjects on a hoarding reality show. A few weeks ago, I laid out a bed that curves sexily along the back edge of the yard and dug a clean trench around it. Friday, Schroeder Materials dumped three yards of garden soil on our driveway. Saturday, I lined the bottom of the new bed with water-soaked newspaper and Tony moved countless (you see, after 25, he just didn’t want to count anymore) wheelbarrows full of dirt into the space.
After planting two butterfly bushes, moving a spruce and transplanting the diva hydrangeas to form the bones of this new bed, I set to the real work – thinning those front beds while filling in here. Coneflowers that crowded other coneflowers were dug up, separated and planted in a grid pattern, each about 10″ apart, at the end of the bed. Sedum that never liked its spot was removed, split and planted in a 10″ grid in the middle. Butterfly blue scabiosa that was choking itself was taken out, cut apart and planted in another grid pattern. The taller coreopsis was put in, again in a grid. Oregano was divided and planted 10″ apart. Moonbean coreopsis was pulled up, separated into tiny bouquets and planted in a border (you guessed it, about 10″ apart) along the edges of the bed. Everything was planted in large groupings to make a stunning impact through the seasons. Like soldiers, the plants marched in tight, symmetrical ranks through the new bed, neat as a pin. Bulbs for daffodils, allium, hyacinths and anemones wiggled in between, still following that grid.
The front bed was thinned, cleaner and more “organized.” The new back bed was as near to perfectly spaced and planted as could be. I stood back and imagined next year – the flush of coneflower, the spike of grasses, the happy parade of coreopsis, the lace of the scabiosa, all growing in perfect curvilinear groups, in mathematical precision, in exquisite order. I smiled at the thought of all this beauty, planned, planted, and organized.
And I heard Mother Nature giggle.
The Soul Of A Gardener 