In ecological gardening, density is the point

The plants beside my driveway are so dense, even Rufus, my dog, refuses to go into them.

I didn’t plant any of these. They just happened. There are three types of goldenrod, a red elderberry, some thistles, hawkweed, a couple of ash saplings, what looks like butternut, evening primrose, two kinds of grasses, raspberry, and a bunch of other things I can’t identify.

This isn’t the design I would choose for a client. Some of these plants I’d consider weeds. You could even say it’s a bit messy.

But it’s dense – because that’s how nature is. There’s no bare ground, which is why Rufus stands on the edge looking in and hoping I’ll fetch his orange ball.

How nature plants

I’ve just finished my spring landscape installations – shorelines, septics, lawn conversions, woodland glades. And every one of them is planted densely – one plant every 12 inches.

One or two installations already look dense because clients opted for almost fully grown plants.
One bed I installed is already 75% covered with warm-season grasses and flowering perennials. A gardening neighbour commented on the density: you’ll have lots of extra plants to divide and share.
I’m not so sure. I want to keep the ground covered to cut down on maintenance. There won’t be plants to give away if I don’t want space for weeds to grow.

Every plant an island

Municipal and corporate garden beds are now installed across the county. They look neat and will have red, blue and purple flowers that brighten up our towns.

Part of that neatness is because each plant is spaced far apart from the other. In between is mulch. It looks clean and under control.

As long as we keep the mulch weeded, all will be fine.

But it’s not how nature does it. In nature, plants are their own mulch.

You can buy native plants and garden this way, if you don’t mind the maintenance that open ground creates.

I use native plants because they have co-evolved with the rest of nature here. They have formed relationships with other plants and animals which are mutually beneficial.

But if you plant native species in a sea of mulch, each an island, you’re not gardening like nature does, so you’re not getting the benefits of an ecological approach.

It’s better than using non-natives and invasive species, but it’s like installing a new kitchen and getting your food takeout.

Riot of life

Lucas House is my trial garden in Haliburton, next to the post office. I test things out there and hope Haliburton’s deer don’t eat all the flowers. They’ve already plucked the buds off the coreopsis.

Part of the garden has come into its own this spring. To the right of the main path are carpets of silverweed, with its yellow flowers and metallic leaves, and wild strawberries, where berries are available for birds and for us. The little bluestem grass is growing now the temperatures are warmer, asters are poking tall, pearly everlasting is spreading like a pale green lace, and mountain mint is growing through the grasses and about to burst into life with white flowers insects adore.

I need to tread carefully when I walk through the landscape.

So does Rufus.