At this moment, we live in a black-and-white world, not just in politics, but also in our gardens. Many people have staunchly locked themselves into positions on a variety of topics with little room for compromise. Whether the topic is the immigration of people escaping political turmoil in their homeland or the importation of plants native to other parts of the world, many have taken a position that is all or nothing. And though I think of myself as a person with plenty of opinions on topics from what is happening in the Middle East to what trees should be used for street trees in my hometown, I am surprised to find myself not at one end of the spectrum or the other on such topics, but in the gray territory that resides between Israel and Hamas, and between native trees and interspecific hybrids.
I am also happy to see I am not alone. The other day, I received notice for the 2024 Bad Grass Lecture series and was happy to see that my friend Chris Koppel will be speaking on January 25th about Gardening in the Grey. Despite the title of the talk, the dark-haired plantsman will not be speaking about gardening as we age, but about gardening in the territory between the absolutes—about how we can reside somewhere between native-only landscapes and ornamental gardens that do not support the ecosystem around them, how we can balance energy use, organic practices and the need to control invasives, and somehow get back to enjoying the landscapes we create. In other words, transforming our gardens to be more than an expression of our concerns and fears about a changing world, and seeing them as a place where we can begin to find pleasure in our connection to what we grow—and how we can contribute the health of the ecosystem around us in a less stressful manner.
When I spoke to Chris about his talk, he was as illuminating on the subject as he was at our first meeting many years ago when he worked for Broken Arrow Nursery and we shared our thoughts on Japanese maple cultivars. One of his skills, and that of many great gardeners, is to look at plants in situ, and respond to them in the context of the areas in which they are being grown. His approach is less academic and almost that of someone implementing a field study. Observation of the landscape and a plant’s response to it – the soil, the light, the topography and how it impacts that plant’s growth and health – and appropriateness to site – is key. He does take one academic approach in assessing plants though – he finds an understanding of a plant’s family can provide one with a sense of how it may perform on a site. We should not be surprised when mint family members become a little aggressive when put on a rich, moist site, and if we select them for such an area, to be prepared for the possibility of them overtaking the landscape.
He also looks at a species more closely and while some native plant growers only grow the straight species of a plant, Chris sees a place for many nativars that might bring something else to the garden – a larger flower, boldly-colored petals, or greater stature to help the plant display its best qualities. He understands the goal of maintaining the genetic diversity of a species and does not eschew it, instead he hopes to contribute to it both through his use of selected clonal varieties of a species as well as other seed-grown plants that contribute to the genetic breadth of a species within the landscape as a whole. As he says, why would someone only grow the aster they see on the roadside versus a cultivar of it — as they already get the experience of the former, why not invite the latter into the garden as well?
Where he currently gardens in Litchfield County, there is no doubt that he favors natives, but he sees nothing wrong with adding a red-leafed Chinese astilbe into a primarily native border to add seasonal color and form, especially as the plant does not appear to be aggressive as a spreader or in seeding about the garden. He is excited for the garden to be a place not where one is focused on the world as being binary or black and white, native or nonnative, but as a place which provides pleasure and connects him to the joy of being in the garden. As we talked, we realized that the interactions we have been having with friends about gardening have shifted over the years to being focused on what needs to change in the garden, what plants need to be eradicated, with a general focus on what we are doing wrong. After our talk, I made a vow to focus more on what I can do to improve on what is there, eradicating aggressive plants when possible, and setting a goal that gives me pleasure in what I am doing, versus leaving me feeling that I am never doing enough.
I think this approach is more likely to increase my ability to make a difference in the landscape that I am stewarding and will probably contribute to my well-being in ways that are not gray, but decidedly black and white. This is the one black-and-white moment I am willing to continue to move forward with in my garden and I hope to learn more in his talk about how gardening in the grey will increase my enjoyment of my landscape while improving the environment that we all inhabit.
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A gardener grows through observation, experimentation, and learning from the failures, triumphs, and hard work of oneself and others. In this sense, all gardeners are self-taught, while at the same time intrinsically connected to a tradition and a community that finds satisfaction through working the soil and sharing their experiences with one another. This column explores those relationships and how we learn about the world around us from plants and our fellow gardeners.
