Yes, weeding can be a pleasure

One of my new gardens didn’t do well last year.

Remember how hot and dry the summer was? We didn’t have rain for at least six weeks.

The Pale Purple Coneflowers didn’t survive. The Lanceleaf Coreopsis did, but it should have been bigger. The Black-eyed Susans flowered but looked weak and went dormant too soon. The opportunistic weeds already in the soil took their chance to germinate.

I designed this landscape to make maintenance easier later. I chose species appropriate to the site’s conditions so they would thrive without needing fertilizer and planted them densely to help prevent weeds. But even the perfect design won’t deliver without someone watching in the critical first year, especially in a drought.

Daylilies

I paid my first visit of the year last week to a landscape I installed last fall.

Most of my time was spent wandering, stopping and noticing.

I’d see how the plants were doing after our long, long winter. Which ones were on track, which ones were early and any that were missing in action.

I found myself saying, “oh, that’s interesting,” and moving on. For the most part, I didn’t intervene. I just noticed and took pictures.

I saw the Daylilies that I didn’t install and that were getting a little close to the planting. Daylilies are super-popular because they grow easily, fill gaps and have bright orange flowers. But they’re also extremely aggressive and will take over if not kept in check. I made a note to keep an eye on them on my next visit. If they’re threatening the integrity of the garden I planted, I will take action.

I had a pleasant visit to this site. Not just because it was doing well but because it was relaxing. I was simply engaging with the land, responding when necessary and stepping back when not. Unlike traditional maintenance, which can feel like a confrontation, this kind of stewardship was a conversation between me, the plants, the land and the season.

Goldenrod

I’m working on the septic leach bed at my home this year. It’s a part-shaded site which I’ve pretty much ignored, except to remove anything that could damage the septic system.

Last year, it was overrun with Canada Goldenrod – a native species with bright yellow flowers that tends to be aggressive. Pollinators in fall love it…but it’s a thug.

So this year I’m going to keep an eye out for it. Indeed, this weekend I noticed it had started to emerge. I want to create a diverse habitat on this site, so I need to make decisions. Do I remove the plants or keep them chopped back? Do I remove them all or leave some?

I might dig some out with a trowel, or I might use my weed whacker to cut them in half.

And despite the use of this brutal tool, this action is nothing like one-size-fits-all maintenance. It’s strategic. It’s surgical. My weed whacker is my scalpel.

And more importantly, dealing with my septic won’t be “a project” that makes me sigh. Instead, it will be an easy walk-through once a week, making decisions and taking action. It will be early prevention rather than a cure for something that’s wrong. This is the role of humans in a landscape – noticing, caring, adjusting.

This month I will be visiting another of my landscapes, watching for the summer perennials emerging and deciding when and if I need to intervene. I’ll be seeing if the Beebalm is getting too big and tall, if the warm-season grasses are taking root, and if the Silverweed and Wild Strawberry I planted are covering the ground.

It will be like visiting an old friend, checking in on their wellbeing and making sure they have what they need.