Home » Plants & Animals » New England Gardens » TO EACH HIS OWN

TO EACH HIS OWN

© Diana Morgan

I have a retired friend whose neat weed-free garden makes mine look like a jungle. His beans march down straight rows like soldiers on parade and his lettuces sit in leafy perfection surrounded by clean dark loam.

He stands at the edge of my eclectic patch, hands on hips, scowling slightly. My heirloom roses growing with wild abandon, cheek to jowl with heirloom tomatoes, bother him. He scoffs at the mulch I've laid everywhere, calling it lazy gardening. I call it water conservation. He's been retired so long he's forgotten what it's like to work a full time job and have no spare moments to either weed or water.

A homemade obelisk carrying purple podded pole beans rises out of a small lavender forest of anise hyssop and wild Monarda. Thyme, mint and sage cozy up to dianthus and daylilies. Peppers play hide and seek with dwarf nicotiana. He hates it. I adore the spontaneity of it, the sheer exuberance.

I stand on his deck gazing out over his garden and admire the neatness, but find it boring. It looks just like every other vegetable garden I've ever seen. Now, don't get me wrong. I've got a garden with vegetables in neat orderly rows too. It's tucked away at the back of the house where I don't have to look at it. I clean out as much of the weeds I can with a small tiller, and leave the rest of the patch to fend for itself.

The unkempt appearance of my front garden, right out there by the road for all to see, unsettles my meticulous neighbor. But passersby slow down to stare at it. I'm never sure if it's in admiration or stupefaction. Queen Anne's Lace and Dame's Rocket nod showy flower heads. Oddities like Basket Flower [Centaurea americana] sit comfortably next to mundane ox-eye daisies. Somehow, it all seems to work. My basil doesn't mind one bit being stuffed next to a patch of pansies.

It's the wildness of it all that disturbs my friend. He likes everything in its place. His home reflects his gardening tastes. Though a single gentleman lives in it, the house is shipshape with everything in its place. Mine, on the other hand, is unashamedly messy.

I like the untamed nature of my garden. Perhaps I've never completely outgrown my rebellious youth. I can sit out there, watch the world go by, and unwind. It gives me peace as well as produce. I don't know what my neighbor's garden gives him besides beans. Perhaps satisfaction of a job well done. I've never asked and he's never volunteered.

The copyright of the article TO EACH HIS OWN in New England Gardens is owned by Diana Morgan. Permission to republish TO EACH HIS OWN in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.