Making it feel more like ‘here’

When we built our house, we left a bit of spare driveway open. It was covered in gravel but nothing else. This, we decided, would be useful extra parking space.

Except we didn’t need it so it never was.

It has changed over the years. The first few seasons, it was what we’d call weedy. Dandelions with bright flowers but promising trouble. Thistles that said unkempt. I pulled them sometimes, if I could deal with the spines and roots.

This year, however, it is something else. It’s a kind of raucous meadow, a jostle of leaves and flowers. No parking there.

You wouldn’t expect much to be growing there because of the gravel, but now it’s August and the goldenrod are blooming.

This plant is much maligned by some humans because we say it causes allergies (it doesn’t).

But it’s loved by insects because of its pollen. It’s a plant of disturbed areas. While it might not be the first to get there, it comes pretty soon after. Canada goldenrod – the most aggressive species – can quickly become something of a monoculture.

There are other goldenrods around my driveway, however. You’ve got to look closely to tell the difference. Wrinkle-leaf goldenrod, zig-zag goldenrod for under the shade: neither of these is as aggressive as its maple-leaf wearing cousin.

Behind the goldenrod is a patch of beebalm. I don’t know how it got there. Maybe I planted some and forgot, or maybe I threw some leftover seeds. Whatever, it’s growing like gangbusters in the beds I tried to grow tomatoes in (too shaded, too deer-y.) The purple of the beebalm contrasts with the yellow of the goldenrod. Opposite sides of the colour wheel, I guess.

More yellow comes from evening primrose. This has been popping up on the driveway since day one. Sometimes I pulled it (too tall, too many seeds). Sometimes I left it (cool flowers). Now there are at least half a dozen plants.

All the time the lake is 180 degrees behind me. I just don’t find it as interesting as I did.

We bought this lot for the view, not the driveway. I guess I could have maintained this driveway patch – kept on top of the weeds, rolled back and forward with my car tires. But for whatever reason, I didn’t. Maybe I was being lazy or maybe somewhere down deep I knew this is where nature was headed with its mix of non-native and native plants – coltsfoot, dandelions, yarrow, evening primrose. Raspberries. Poplar.

It’s what I look at now.

Conifers

I often get called to new-build cottages to see how I can plant their landscapes.
The most common request is make it feel more like “here”.

A few decades ago, new cottages came with lawn and conical conifers, the pattern of the suburbs transplanted up 35. Because that’s what we knew.

Today’s new builds have cottages that nod to our trees, and landscapes that recognize our rocks, yet they still feel inevitably imposed – which is why people want them softened. Because they came for Haliburton, not Hamilton.

This is why I spend a lot of time looking at what’s already growing around the property. It’s what the land wants to become. And it’s a clue to what to plant.

It means we can skip the thistle stage and the goldenrod monoculture.

Meanwhile, our county’s roads are lined with a dusty pink these days. That’s Joe-Pye weed, which likes the moisture found in our ditches.

Road crews dig the ditches from time to time to keep them clear but the Joe-Pye weed comes back.

Because that’s what Joe-Pye weed does.

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