Fitting in or forcing out?

I’m taking care of a landscape I planted for a client last fall. I recently paid one of my regular visits to see how it’s doing.

It’s full of green texture. The plants had enjoyed the chance to grow their roots in the autumn, so they were all bigger. Some were even flowering.

But I found myself on my hands and knees, weeding. There were about 30 beautiful plants – thick, bold leaves and white, fragrant flowers. All these glorious specimens had to go because they were lily of the valley.

These plants were doing exactly what they’re supposed to do. Just not here.

Lily of the valley isn’t native to North America – it’s from Europe and parts of Asia. And back home, it simply fits in. The rest of the community keeps it in check because it has co-evolved with everything else. It has other plants that compete with it for sunlight, moisture and food.

But here, nothing is pushing back because nothing evolved to push back. Other plants don’t know how to keep it in check, and animals don’t eat it – it’s toxic to most of them.

Quieter

What was left after the lily of the valley was removed? There was the matrix of rosy sedge, which had enjoyed the chance in fall to put down some roots. It had grown bigger since the snow melted.

There were Canada violets that had begun to produce white flowers with pink streaks. There was early meadowrue, which had put out tall stems with delicate, green blooms. The ferns were there – unfurled, full of texture. The zig-zag goldenrod was bigger than it was in the fall, with fatter toothed leaves.

All these plants were doing what they should be doing. None was as dramatic as the lily of the valley – none had thick, wide foliage and there were no fragrant white flowers. They were quieter plants but they were doing just fine.

Boundaries

Most client sites I visit have a patch of what gardeners might call invasive plants. Periwinkle under the trees, goutweed covering the ground. This patch seems stable and well-enough behaved so I don’t ask my clients to rip these plants out. Removing invasives would be best practice but I’m not here to force people to remove something they might love.

But in an ecological planting, where I’m trying to set up a web of harmonious relationships in which every plant benefits every other plant and benefits the wider world of nature, a species that forces out rather than fits in just won’t work.

A contained patch of invasives seems fine, as long as we realize we’re fighting a constant battle to maintain that containment. We’re committing to keeping a boundary firm, year after year.

The work

The current owner of this cottage probably didn’t plant the lily of the valley. It was something they inherited.

A previous resident likely added this plant years ago because it covered the ground, stopping weeds from taking root. It was sold at the nursery as a beautiful and practical option so they bought it. But every plant we add is a legacy we leave.

After about 30 minutes weeding, I was finished. The bed looked more sparse – there were fewer leaves and more mulch. But it was exactly where it should be, after its first winter and spring in the ground. It was slowly establishing, finding its place.

A few feet away was the patch of lily of the valley, doing what it should be doing, too.

And I’ll be back in a few weeks doing the work I do.