The final straw came this weekend (among many, many other straws). I managed to come back for a visit to see the family and was doing my usual walk through the yard, surveying the few plants that have managed to survive the weeds and the occasional mow over only to find the one plant that seemed to be loving the neglect, smothered in one of the grossest plant out there... dodder (genus Cuscuta). There are way too many species for me to try to ID it, but the entire genus is essentially composed of sickly, leafless, almost worm like parasitic vines that, upon germinating, sense the nearest plant, grow towards it, and soon attach themselves, entangling and feeding off the original host and whatever other compatible plants they come in contact with. Really nasty buggers. And once they get going there's really no way to kill them without digging up all the plants the've attached to. Their roots actually die off when they're young and the plant becomes a giant brittle messy mass of tangles, where each portion of stem that comes in contact with another plant has the capacity to keep living and growing despite how many pieces you might try to rip it into.
.Dodder (Cuscuta sp.) smothering what would otherwise be a healthy clump of Cardinal Flower
This was on top of my Dad throwing a family friend some work and letting them mow the lawn.... which apparently included mowing down the nice big weed-smothering clump of 'Jacob Cline' that had been doing beautifully the last few years despite getting zero attention. So much for that. Hopefully it comes back next year.
Monarda didyma 'Jacob Cline' pre and post mow down. Note the beautiful garden ornament on the right, most likely placed there by my Dad. As with the many peices of random junk that dot my old yard, I have no idea how it got there, why its there, or what the hell it is.
Now that I think about it, the beginning of the end all started when the beaver showed up (yes, the beaver). I think it was my senior year in high school when they decided to start their dam right where I had just spent the previous summer trying to start a kick-ass shade garden (Begonia grandis, Arisaema sikokianum, Petasites japonicus var. giganteus, Osmunda regalis, and Brunnera macrophylla). If this wasn't enough, after they built their dam the Black Willows that dominated our backyard slowly fell one by one and crushed the few plants that the beaver hadn't burried, including a huge old tree-ish clump of Ilex verticillata and Vaccinium corymbosum. The only thing that managed to make it through the onslaught of natural disasters were the Petasites and a few Royal Ferns that somehow managed to make there way through the many feet of mud, sticks and logs the beaver threw on top of'em.
The Black Willow (Salix nigra) on top of the beaver damn on top of what's left of my shade garden. Mainly Petasites japonicus var. giganteus, pictured to the right (which I should actually probably get rid of before it invades the adjacent wetland)
And lastly is my old rock garden. You'd never know now to look at it, and I still kick myself for not taking any pictures when it was at its peak (other than a few close ups of some cactus), but the now mess of a hillside was once full of silvery foliaged heat loving beauties, cacti, and succulents, all tucked in a slew of rocks and small boulders that I dug up elsewhere and then painstakingly moved (by hand) all over the hill. The list of plants was long, but included Agastache rupestris, Festuca ovina var. glauca, Helianthemum nummularium 'Wisely Pink,' Sedum sieboldii, Sempervivum arachnoideum, Kniphofia caulescens, Kniphofia 'Fire Dance,' Stomatium mustellinum, Delosperma nubigenum, Gymnocalycium sp., Echninocereus spp., Penstemon spp., Yucca filamentosa, and Opuntia humifusa (just to name a few). Most of the plants were either started from seed, division or cuttings, although there were a few I got from mail order nurseries. Sadly, its pretty much all gone now. I rescued 2 of the cactus that I started from seed, but aside from a few Kniphofia that have seeded themselves along with a few surviving clumps of Opuntia and Yucca, none of the plants survived. Our super clayey soil along with an invading grove of Black Locust has certainly sped the process along.
While it may not seem entirely believable.... this was once a really well kept space.
RIP Gymnocalycium and Echinocerus.
Obviously I'm still in a little bit of denial, but for the most part I'm ready to move on. If nothing else I've learned how quickly things go to crap, and while novelty gardening is fun (if you have the resources and the time) the thing that really attracts me to doing this stuff in the first place is the possibility of creating something that has the potential to outlast me once I'm gone. While this might be an unrealistic goal when it comes to gardening, we all have to accept that at some point in our lives we all get either too busy, too old, or need to relocate and we will have to leave our gardens behind. Either way, things will happen (like falling trees, beaver, and Dodder) and nature will inevitably take its course. So if you'd like your garden to be around (at least for a little while) after it loses its gardener, work with the site as much as you can, rather than against it. Choose plants that are happy to grow in your yard without coddling or fussing, and maybe, just maybe you'll manage to make something that will be around to make other people happy long after your gone.
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