The footfall first sounds at dawn - boots tapping briskly along the carefully manicured walk. One hears not mere determination but a declaration of war in that measured tread.
Within the garden, the residents quake in trembling resignation. The invader comes heavily armed. Blades and daggers honed to glistening sharpness, standing ready to hack them into shape. No stragglers allowed here, no stray intimations of individuality. Mother Nature may be a lax disciplinarian, but the dominatrix of the garden will intervene and control, until the tendency to wildness is beaten into submission, until it achieves the perfection that she seeks. Weeds are ruthlessly assassinated; the volunteer who interferes with a perfection of color is consigned to the flames. Tiny seedling children are wrenched from their homes, their short lives aborted because they interfere with symmetry. Each shrub becomes a uniform mound of tortured topiary, each tall plant endures the stake driven into its heart to force it to stand at attention.
In this school of gardening nature is something to be dominated lest it take over and turn the garden into something natural. One might call it the dictator school.
This is a very expensive school. It requires endless hours of work, clipping, trimming, and weeding out strays. The slightest straggle ruins the entire intention of the garden, which is to prove that Nature can be dominated.
Nature, of course, refuses to cooperate. The very acts that constitute control have an equal and opposite effect; they stimulate rebellion. Every trimming encourages a fresh burst of even more vigorous and rebellious growth. Pruning stimulates rather than dominates. One shrub in the carefully clipped hedge refuses to prosper like its neighbors and ruins the line. Out it comes. Wind tosses through the delphiniums and breaks off their heads. Another arrangement spoiled. Squirrels play tug of war with the bulb displays; deer decide to dine out. Each leaves a hole, and creates a design flaw. These plants must immediately be replaced in the interests of symmetry and design.
Even if the plants, prisoners of the earth that they are, helplessly submit, squirrels and deer refuse to be dominated. They play and dine, quite heedless of the gardener's will, and quite outside the gardener's jurisdiction. One could, of course, erect high walls to keep out the deer and keep the plants in, but squirrels can climb and dig. There will always be damage.
Go To Page: 1 2
| Here's the follow-up discussion on this article: | View all related messages |
For a complete listing of article comments, questions, and other discussions related to Carol Wallace's Virtual Gardening topic, please visit the Discussions page.