Mulch and Faith

My beebalm (Monarda didyma) and anise hyssop (Agastache foeniculum) plants showed their first flowers of the season about two weeks ago.  For the beebalm (also known as oswego tea), it is its first flower ever, so I’ve talked about it to my coworkers a bit.  Beebalm flowers are supposed to attract hummingbirds as well as bumblebees.  The anise hyssop not only has neat looking tufts of tiny purple flowers on a stalk, but every part of the plant, when touched, smells like licorice.  How cool is that?

Monarda didyma

Beebalm (Monarda didyma) – first blossoms

I’ve started to realize that I may be giving people a false impression of my garden.  If you listen to me describe it (on and on), you might think it’s some kind of lush tropical rainforest, teeming with wildlife, macaws on the magnolia branches, and capuchin monkeys swinging from pawpaw to plum tree for a snack and a rest.

The truth is that some people might describe my plant beds as being more mulch than plant.  Why five feet of mulch around that tiny tuft of spiky leaves (which tuft, I ask)?  The entire native plant garden ensemble isn’t quite lush yet.

My pawpaws (Asimina triloba) are only six inches tall, not yet trees offering shade or fruit (although the slugs find the leaves delectable, apparently).  My native plum tree (Prunus americana) is about five feet tall and having a tough time rebounding from the aphids that sucked its lifeblood for several weeks this spring; no fruit this year.

But, here’s the thing about my garden.  When I look at it, I see what it will be like next year, or in five years, or in ten.  I garden on faith.

As a result, two pawpaws grow near a boxelder (Acer negundo) with a grievous trunk injury, the pawpaws ready to take its place when it inevitably succumbs to internal rot (and a chainsaw) in a few years.  A crooked redbud (Cercis canadensis) of about two and half feet grows across from our doorway, where I hope it will offer my wife and me shade and lovely pink blossoms… someday… when it’s big… and straightens up.

Aesculus pavia

Red Buckeye (Aesculus pavia) – Is it a tree yet?

The steps from our driveway are flanked by a red buckeye (Aesculus pavia), all of eighteen inches tall, and a blackhaw viburnum (Viburnum prunifolium) of about three feet.  The red buckeye will (join me in crossing fingers, please) produce brilliant red flowers that should attract hummingbirds in vast numbers.  The blackhaw will produce beautiful clusters of white flowers that will later turn into blue/black berries that birds adore.  In my mind, I see the branches of these two trees reaching across the steps to meet.

Give me a few years, and I’ll be able to show you exactly what I mean.  I should be busy pruning and thinning then.

Roland works in Rockville MOMs.

About Roland

Roland works at the MOM's Organic Market central office. He gardens organically with native plants (when he's not busy with house renovations). He also dabbles in animation, woodworking and other arts.
This entry was posted in Gardening, Local, Native plants, Natural Health and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Mulch and Faith

  1. alyssabdh says:

    Wow, Roland, your garden sounds very cool (and native)! I wish I had a green thumb, but I’m learning slowly but surely. My mom can grow anything but she’s in WA state and so she tries to guide me over the phone. Still, so far I have to stick to hardy and forgiving plants who don’t wilt from my neglect or mistakes! Anyway, maybe I can get some pointers from you sometime.

  2. Pingback: How to Get a Wheelbarrow Out of Your Living Room | MOM's Organic Market

  3. Pingback: An Eco-Friendly Yard & Garden (Part One)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s