The big picture
The temptation to experiment in the garden, even if it means sacrificing what’s working best, is almost too great for MICHAEL McCOY
There are just a few parts of my garden that I’m entirely happy with. That’s not to say they came out as planned. I set them in motion, but to some extent they did their own thing. It turns out their own thing was better than what I could have dreamt up.
But the pleasure they bring me has started to fade. I’ve loved every second of their five or so years of existence, and have photographed them to death through every season. And now, as they’re literally and figuratively spring-loaded for a repeat performance, I’m wondering how I feel about that. There are moments and months that I’m really looking forward to. This month is a great example, with the start of the species tulips. In fact, right up until about Christmas, the areas under scrutiny are dizzyingly good, with jewel-like bulbs puncturing through a wash of lime-green froth from low-growing euphorbias. But I’m also feeling itchy for a shake up.
I can’t help dreaming up ideas of removing one or two (or maybe more) of the really key players that tend, in my kind of planting, to repeat about the place, and replacing them with something different, just for the sake of it.
And while considering the change, it occurs to me that I never set out to achieve any point of arrival with this garden, or at least, not any fixed point of perfection. The greatest thing the basic layout could provide is multiple locations and contexts for ongoing play with plants. Experimentation is an essential aspect of my pleasure. And that means being prepared to dismantle past and current achievements, no matter how good.
But naturally, I hesitate. And perhaps wisely, I hesitate. There are loads of other parts of the garden that need extra work, and that haven’t even begun to really please me. Surely it would make more sense to funnel my energies into those areas, and get them up to a much higher standard, before interfering with those that really work? But it’s not that simple. Some part of me feels compelled to test my confidence and capability by starting over. By laughing in the face of success and throwing caution to the wind.
I remember the moment in my early 20s when I came to understand that it’s possible, in all areas of your life, to be crippled by, or at least stuck in, success. And I’ve long since realised that all gardeners – even the really good ones – can be equally stuck in indecision.
Maybe I’ll leave it all until next year.
Michael blogs at thegardenist.com.au