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Kathy’s Garden Writing |
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BEAUTIFUL CHAOS Remember all the fuss about chaos theory a few years back? My eyes glazed over whenever I tried to read about it. Well, at the risk of boring you, I’d like to tell you about my own chaos theory for gardens. Many gardeners expend too much time and effort trying to achieve symmetry and tidiness, attempting to micromanage the whimsies of Mother Nature. Mirabel Osler tells us that “the very soul of a garden is shriveled by zealous regimentation … A mania for neatness, a lust for conformity – and away go atmosphere and sensuality.” Osler refers to her gardening style as “native vitality.” I like to think of mine as “beautiful chaos.” Picture a stone walkway, edged with spilling masses of perennials woven into an Impressionist painting; or imagine meandering paths through an undulating sea of grasses and meadow flowers; and everywhere enliven the tableau with insects and birds on the wing. In my mind’s eye, that’s my ideal garden; and every now and again – one early morning, a rainy week in June, in a secret little corner of my garden -- an apparition of beautiful chaos appears. Wander with me down the walk to the house, the staging area for my perennial beds. I started the canvas with some basic plant materials that suited the conditions. I then let Mother Nature’s artistry complete the composition. Sometimes she rearranges things, as with the coreopsis that self-sows hither and yon. Sometimes she enlarges the footprint of a plant, like bee balm, which travels by runners until it comes up against a strong competitor, perhaps rudbeckia. A plant may be ejected altogether, one not suitably vigorous, which happened to the lilies weakened each year from deer predation. Any glint of bare earth gets brushed with creeping thyme or mossy phlox or a miniature sedum. The senses detect blurs of color, the buzz of bees, wafting scents of lavender and thyme. Beautiful chaos! Now let’s stroll through the grass surrounding my house. We mow a small circle off the deck, for foot traffic and grandchild romps. The outlying acreage grows tall, with paths cleared only where we travel, to the pond, or the barn, or the woods. Along our walk, we might find a patch of hawkweed, or a sea of timothy, or a colony of malva escaped from the perennial bed. Under the locust tree, I’ve tucked in some of the orange poppies my neighbor gave me, for a touch of color amidst filtered sunlight. Here and there I’ve added a dash of whimsy, like the stone monkey just around the bend, sitting on a log and waiting to be discovered. Swallows swoop and butterflies flutter. Beautiful chaos! So Mother Nature manages things just fine, in her own chaotic way. We human gardeners offer only a little help, for balance and preference, pulling noxious weeds like burdock, keeping the bee balm in check by potting some up for friends, perhaps adding something new that just cannot be resisted like a flowering sage or a hand-crafted metal sculpture. Mostly, we stroll down the paths giving thanks to nature’s bounty. Thoreau said “In wildness is the preservation of the world.” Wendell Berry added the correlate: “In human culture is the preservation of wildness.” I think they would approve of my gardener’s version of chaos theory. Kathleen Arcuri Published September 2, 2007 – The Danville Daily Item |