Invasive plants come in two categories; they are either welcomes or met with rage. The loved ones first: Forget-me-nots, Celandine poppy, Creeping Charlie, Scilla siberica. The loathed: Star of Bethlehem.
The loved ones are always well-received. No matter how much territory they overrun, no one complains. It’s impossible to forget a forget-me-not. It shows up in April in the most beautiful shade of blue. After blooming you can ignore them. No attention is required; they advance wherever they like.
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| Forget-me-not |
Mine is a migrant from Marian Faux’s garden next door. There are several varieties; ours is Myosotis scorpiodes, the true forget-me-not. Our shared garden is awash with them, started by Marian against her house, and then marching over the years across property lines and into our shared garden. There is no happier sight this time of year than that perfect blue found nowhere else. We continue to ignore its’ official listing as an invasive.
Celandine poppy (Stylophorum diphyllum), a brilliant yellow, is native here in the Northeast. I brought one with me from the Catskills garden and it has multiplied. Its’ natural habitat is moist forest over calcareous rock but it has agreeably spread out in a dark, well-watered corner of my garden.
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| Celandine poppy |
As for Creeping Charlie, all you will find in the literature is directions for getting rid of it. Here it has colonized in the lawn where it is cut whenever the grass is cut. It flowers in spring along with the scillas, followed by tidy green rosettes at its’ base. Growing lower than the mower blades, it escapes all but the first cut. My so-called lawn is really a collection of small-leaf green plants, all treated equally. No water, no fertilizer, no weeding. Just a weekly mowing.
Which brings me to the scillas, growing through the grass. Scilla siberica was here when I moved in 11 years ago, at the very back of what was to become a garden. No matter how much disruption, digging, re-digging, planting, brick-laying … it keeps returning.
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| Scilla siberica |
Star of Bethlehem (SB) on the other hand is greeted with groans, followed by vengeance. It starts out as pretty tufts of green followed by beautifully starry white flowers. It dies back to nothingness, leaving gaps when it is too late to fill them. Anything you might plant nearby in the expectation it will beat out the invader disappears in its path. SB is relentless, spreading like wildfire, conquering everything in its way. My advice to you? As soon as the first clump appears remove it with ruthless efficiency, leaving no bulblet behind. Here on Livingston Street, at great expense, the plan to eradicate it is finally underway.
Unlike the persistent invasives, most herbaceous plants do not last forever. Periodically, when you are in the mood, they should be lifted, divided, and replanted. You will know the right time by observation; they just seem to dwindle. This season stachys, astilbe, shasta daisies, iris are among those needing attention. Some defy the odds, growing taller and wider each year -- hosta, cimicifuga, bleeding heart, peonies. A few will surprise you. My favorite and sole tulip Spring Green, supposedly only good for a year or so, keeps repeating.
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| Spring green tulip |
My neighbor, best garden friend and co-conspirator Marian Faux (first parent of the forget-me-nots) and I share a garden in which we plot to outwit partial shade and black walnut competition. This semi-sunny (often shady) border looks better each year, even though old favorites -- baptisia, peonies -- mysteriously disappear. We attribute all losses (fairly or not) to the presence of nearby black walnuts, but we press on regardless.
The pleasures of gardening with a like-minded friend are immeasurable. Marian is a much more meticulous planner than I, with a better sense of what is right, possible, and fitting. She pays close attention, while I am more of the crap-shoot school: roll the dice and there’s a chance you’ll win.
Up until last year I kept a detailed map of the all the beds and borders, updating it annually and marking the changes. I neglected this in 2022 and am faced now with the appearance of plants I don’t recognize and have clearly forgotten. This is when Apps become indispensable. I use a plant identifier and a weed identifier in tandem to jog my memory and to save me from eliminating something important. Satisfaction is guaranteed, but pointing your phone at something and receiving an instantaneous ID does nothing to train your memory or sharpen your observations. Fair warning.
