Rebel against the rules of gardening
By
Amy McDowell
“Welcome to Plant Collectors Anonymous”
announced the crinkled paper sign on the door. One edge was smudged with what
looked like a dirty thumb print. A ring of beige metal folding chairs sat in
the middle of the room, cold on my tush as I took a seat. Before long, the
circle filled and latecomers had to dash to another room and clumsily drag in a
few more chairs. The gardeners were a motley crew—young and old, tailored and
frumpy. They sat and smiled awkwardly at one another, hands in their laps
carefully twisted to hide the dirt that was, without exception, under their
fingernails.
And the confessions began. One after
another, each gardener rose and gave his or her first name, followed by that
aching mantra, “and I’m a plant collector.” Oh! The shame! Would we ever
conquer our collecting ways and plant properly, that is, in drifts? It was
embarrassing, for sure. In our rambling plant passion we bought what we loved
and we loved whatever little beauty caught our fancy on our many, many garden
center junkets. Our gardens, packed with a hodgepodge of plants, wantonly
violated the rules of good garden design.
It wasn’t until I heard Tony Avent speak at
the Western Nursery and Landscape Association that I shook off my
shame and proudly, defiantly, lifted my chin. Tony owns Plant Delights Nursery
in Raleigh, NC, and confessed that he grows thousands of different plants at
his home. And no two are the same. None. No plants in masses or odd-numbered
drifts. Onesies everywhere. And he showed slides to prove it. Slides of a
gorgeous garden.
“I admit it, I’m a plant collector,” he
said. And then he said if we think plant collecting is bad, our whole value
system is screwed up. “What gets people more excited than plants?” he asked.
They grow bigger and more beautiful and you can divide them and share them with
your friends. You can’t do that if you collect antiques, he says. Then he even
trumped the old “you shouldn’t buy a plant unless you know where it’s gonna go”
nag with a sharp, succinct, “What kinda crap is that?”
Aaah. Now that’s my kinda guy. Let loose the
“should” and “shouldn’t” gardening rules and have fun again. Like when I was a
girl of seven in my favorite Bugs Bunny jeans planting marigolds. (Before I
learned that growing marigolds is taboo or amateurish or just not done.) Back to when I planted my
first Clematis and delighted in every leafy tendril, every bud and, as they
opened, every bloom.
Whoever made up the rules needs to learn to
love gardening again. And the rest of us need to learn to follow our passion
and forget the restrictive rules for gardening. I’m thrilled that I have the
audacity to say this with pride: “My name is Amy, and I’m a plant collector.”
