Ok, let’s face it, growing some perennial plants (like native ones) from seed takes time. Lots of it and lots of patience too. Meanwhile the garden looks, well, let’s just say it’s not going to make Fine Gardening anytime soon. While I can use my imagination to visualize what’s to come, most people just see an empty spot of dirt. What if there was a way to speed that process up a bit. Get a bit more immediate satisfaction. I think all my trials and tribulations have finally gotten me to a realization. What if instead of only planting slow growing plants, I let certain plants, sometimes known as workhorse plants, help me out along the way. Plants like annuals, volunteers and hardy herbs that grow quickly, often plant themselves, fill in empty spaces and protect the soil while the slower growing perennials take their good old time.
I’ve so often snubbed annuals thinking they were for beginner gardeners who just wanted something to grow but hey, isn’t that what I want? Let’s face it, patience comes a lot easier with something quick and pretty to distract me from my waiting. I also was worried they might be invasive or become aggressive but as ecologist, Chris Helzer says in a recent postabout non-native plants,
A plant’s status as native or not became less important than how it affected the diversity and function of the plant community it was part of.
The natural process of succession starts with more aggressive shorter living plants that gradually give way to slower growing longer living plants. Allowing some shorter living annuals, herbs and fast growing native plants to cover certain areas will pave the way for those slow growing, longer living plants. Many of these quick growing plants also provide valuable ecological services while the tiny slow growers aren’t. Lemon balm, basil, sage, parsley, dill, wild marjoram, violets, white snakeroot, mint and even yes, ground ivy are a few examples.
A great example of implementing this concept is in my front yard garden where I want to plant an edge of native flowers and grasses that hide my sometimes pretty unattractive vegetable garden from people passing by. I’m also planning on an island in the center to provide a permanent point of interest. Instead of just planting the natives, I’ll plant annuals. I’m thinking about a heavy layer of basil, marigolds, zinnias and/or coreopsis. Then, I’ll add slower growing plants in a strip behind them where their tininess will be hidden by the front layer of annuals. This will not only keep weeds down but it will quickly add that beautiful border.
The fact that some plants are a little (and I mean a little) more aggressive isn’t so much a concern because they are so much easier and less disruptive to remove (especially in the early stages) than other more aggressive or invasive plants. And because these plants do an excellent job of covering ground they will suppress as well as hide the less respectable weeds. In short, hopefully my garden will be more beautiful, bountiful and ecological in a shorter amount of time and with a lot less effort.
June, my favorite month, not sure why, is here. Got to have a picture of a rose and a very happy bee.
Bunnies and other: Ok they are darn cute but… They can do some damage. My temporary fence made of bird netting worked for awhile. Enough so that the lettuce and peas could grow but then one day there was a bunny inside happily chewing away. Then when it saw my unhappy face it couldn’t figure out how to get out. Then a passerby asked if I kept them in there like they were my pets! Actually it wasn’t so bad because there was so much lettuce they couldn’t really make a dent. But today when I went out, the fresh young swiss chard had been chomped on along with a couple sweet potato plants. It turned out the bunnies had gotten in by chewing a hole through the netting. At that point I decided the bird netting fence had to go. It was no walk in the park struggling in the hot sun with the bird netting (that kept getting caught on the button of my sleeve) and that twist tie stuff I was raving about was just about as much of a pain. This time I am really done with bird netting. Now what to do with it so it doesn’t end up in an ocean strangling some poor fish.
But back to the bunnies. My theory with them is they really like fresh growth. They also really like certain plants such as lettuce, chard and peas. But they aren’t so hot about everything. They don’t eat my mustards, tomatoes or peppers, for example, and so far they haven’t touched my okra. And they aren’t especially fond of mature lettuce or chard. Here’s some strategies I’ve come up with:
Keep the stuff they like protected until there’s so much of it they can’t make a dent. This includes vegetables as well as young woody plants.
Rabbit fencing for their favorite vegetables and woodies. Hold the fencing tight to the ground with landscape staples.
Or use milk cartons or plastic cups with stuff like sweet potatoes and squash.
Grow lots of stuff they like as a decoy. Stuff like violets and even lettuce since it’s so easy and cheap to grow.
Violets. They have become my savior in so many ways. They cover ground, distract bunnies, support specialized wildlife, smother weeds, voluntarily grow, define pathways, garden beds and taller plants, survive drought, build soil, prevent erosion, replace lawn, look beautiful and can handle bunnies chomping on them. They will be the building block of my design.
I guess the one tiny drawback to them is they don’t always come up where I want them so I have to move them to where I want them. They come up pretty much everywhere, including my vegetable beds so I’ve been moving them from there to other more desirable places but now since it seems like we’re back in a drought, I can take a break from that for awhile.
Some of the not-so-native native seeds I planted in the fall seem to be coming up. Little Bluestem, golden Alexander, Bush’s echinacea, butterfly weed and possibly goldenrod and New England aster.
Milkweed, swamp rose, elderberry, parsley, lovage, raspberry and fleabane is blooming (or was blooming) much to the pollinator’s delight. Oh yeah, and I forgot about the chestnut tree with it’s lovely catkins. I always forget to look up.
Speaking of fleabane. This is another great voluntary plant in my garden. I guess it’s weedy but it’s native and prolific. I think it may look much better and less weedy if it were framed with something like switchgrass, something I’ll be working on.
Back to vegetables. I’m doing some successional planting. I planted okra between mature lettuce and sweet potatoes in with flowering mustards. Also, carrots and radishes under peppers and tomatoes.
The thing about front yard gardens is while they can look presentable, there are times when they don’t look so good like now, when some things are dying and others are so tiny, the area looks like a bare spot. I’ll have to work on that. I have some ideas I’ll go into later.
But right now seems like we’re heading for another drought. This new spigot on my rain barrels will fill a bucket in a couple of seconds vs. a couple of minutes. Might make hauling water around a little more fun.
Oh, yeah, and I actually planted some bulbs or transplanted some that is. Daffodils. All over the place. Can’t wait for spring to come again.
I read this article that got me thinking about the design of my garden. After getting over my obsession with cramming as many vegetables in as little space as possible and realizing if I planted trees it would take a very long time for them ever to make a forest, I planted some trees, also known to many designers as the bones of the garden. They are the focal points, the ones that appear as a skeleton (unless they’re evergreens) in winter. But most are only a few feet tall and not too skeletony yet which leaves the rest of the herbaceous (or often called forbs) to tell the tale. Forbs consist of flowers, grasses, sedges and rushes.
But what is the tale I’m trying to tell? Besides growing food for myself, creating habitat for other life forms and eliminating my lawn as much as possible, what am I trying to achieve from an aesthetic viewpoint because aesthetics is something I’ve been putting on the back burner for quite some time. I guess I thought the native plants would somehow take care of that naturally. I kept telling myself it just takes time. Things will fill in next year and maybe they will or maybe they won’t and meanwhile my garden looks more like an overgrown vacant lot than the High Line.
In the article, Margaret Roach, who writes the popular garden blog, A Way to Garden, interviewed landscape designer, Thomas Rainer and confirmed my suspicions. In the wild, native plants form communities that look pretty good. Places like Dolly Sods in West Virginia and Yellowstone National Park and my own favorite, Merchants Millpond in North Carolina, but other places like my garden, not so good. Why is that I wondered? What am I doing wrong?
Well, Rainer points out plants are not meant to be planted as individuals but as members of an ecosystem where they work with other plants to form communities. Rainer says,
In the wild, every square inch of soil is covered with a mosaic of interlocking plants, but in our gardens, we arrange plants as individual objects in a sea of mulch. We place them in solitary confinement.
This was a profound concept. I’d known it but somehow never really got it until I read the part about switchgrass, a plant that’s abundant in my garden but somehow never looks right. I think messy would be the term.
Rainer says switchgrass doesn’t grow all together in the wild. It grows in tufts scattered amongst other more colonizing plants such as Pennsylvania Sedge (if I have it right). The point being because it doesn’t naturally grow like a groundcover it looks ridiculous if planted that way. And yes, as I looked out at the dotted line formed by tufts of switchgrass along the berm of my swale, it did indeed look ridiculous. And it looked even more ridiculous when during a heavy rain, it flopped like it was having a bad hair day. Yes, something had to be done with the switchgrass.
Rainer seemed to suggest that in natural environments, plants grow according to different levels. Lower level plants tend to pop up here and there amongst higher level plants made up of more colonizing ground covers. This is how I understood it anyway (I’ll read the article again just to make sure).
So, what were my lower level plants and what were my higher level ground covers? Well, that’s easy. Lower level plants are switchgrass, wild bergamot, hairy mountain mint, sneezeweed, white snakeroot, milkweed, coneflower, rudbeckia and great blue lobelia. But what were the higher level plants, the colonizing ground covers? I guess that would have to be my old friends, the violets and Virginia creeper, the natural ground cover in my garden. But couldn’t shrubs and trees also be higher level colonizing ground covers? Swamp rose and elderberry come to mind.
At any rate, it all got me to thinking not just about plant communities but about my garden and me. Sure, my garden provides me with food and habitat for other life but does it provide me with joy? Yes and no was the answer. My garden, it seemed needed some unnatural natural beauty. The dotted line of switchgrass needed to go. Borders needed to be defined. Bare soil needed to be covered. Paths needed definition. Plants needed combinations that work as communities and that mysterious cinderblock wall that failed to conceal the car needed to be concealed from me.
Yes, the cinderblock wall that I keep telling myself doesn’t bother me does indeed bother the heck out of me. First of all, it’s ugly. Second of all it doesn’t even provide privacy. The swamp rose should eventually hide the car but the wall, that wall. Then I had an idea. An idea that nearly blew me away. Elderberry. It grows from a foot to 12’ in 3 years and it blocks everything out. I happen to have a young seedling growing in the driveway. Because it can be short lived, I’d plant an American holly behind it that would grow slowly over time.
I would lose more space for vegetables but so what? This was my master plan. My husband is not so enthused but I know better. This was the community my garden was telling me to make all along.
Choose your battles. That’s a phrase my mother doesn’t like. Too war like I guess.
Yesterday I weeded so much I could still see them when I closed my eyes long after I finished for the day. The picture above doesn’t do the day’s work justice. The weed is mostly ground ivy and if we could make fuel out of it we could fuel the world. Another interesting one called (I think) hairy bitter cress kept exploding in my face every time I touched it. Not a great time to weed though. Dry as a desert but once I got started I couldn’t stop.
Much of the weeds actually came from this area. I need to fill in this space with something like prairie dropseed, little bluestem, purple coneflower and heath aster. For now I’ll probably cover the bare areas with cardboard and then cover that with
this homemade mulch.
Mullein is listed as an invasive species but its also a biennial. The plants in the picture resulted from me letting one go to seed a few years ago. With these I’ll cut off the flower before it seeds but before then I’ll leave it to cover area, provide organic matter and I don’t think it looks too bad. We’ll see.
You may not be able to spot the temporary bunny fence in the photo and that’s the idea. I made it out of bird netting, sticks, landscape fabric staples (to clamp down the netting) and this really cool stuff I found at the hardware store called
Bond Manufacturing Twist Tie Dispenser With Cutter. Very cool stuff. This may work because there’s also plenty of unfenced lettuce and other things for these adorable but not so garden friendly furry friends. So, hopefully I’ll have a somewhat easy to install, reusable, bunny fence that keeps out the bunnies. We’ll see.
I planted a variety of native plant seeds in the fall. So far I haven’t seen any signs of the golden Alexanders, Bush’s coneflower, butterfly weed, wild bergamot, columbine, New England asters, goldenrod, gray sedge, New York ironweed and little bluestem. It may be the winter was too warm for the right stratification or the fact we’ve been having a severe drought or they just haven’t come up yet. I’ll give them another month or so.
What will I grow here?
Violets? What would I do without them? They are tough as nails and so pretty right now.
Got this beauty as a bare root from Izel Plants. At 3 for $10.00, it was much less expensive than buying them potted.
You can see the artistry of this homemade border I made with stuff I had laying around.
Not exactly a picture out of Better Home and Gardens but there is some logic to this. I made a raised bed out of soil I removed from below. The area below is now the early stages of a rain garden with great blue lobelia, sneezeweed, boneset, milkweed and of course, violets. The brown stuff in the raised bed is the remnants of sorghum-sudangrass, a cover crop that produces loads of organic matter and grows great here.
Imagine a pawpaw tree growing in the center of this photo but for now the central characters in the scene are wild bergamot, big bluestem and lovage. This year I’ll be cutting the bergamot down after it flowers to prevent it from getting too tall and flopping and to induce a second flowering.
All kinds of things happening here. In the foreground is a raised bed where I’m growing mustards and peas as a cover crop and for eating. To the right is a swale I made a few years ago to divert run-off water. In it, will be switchgrass, great blue lobelia, sneezeweed, white snakeroot, milkweed and hopefully gray sedge, goldenrod and New England aster, seeds I planted in fall. I put cardboard on the banks where I’ll probably plant little bluestem or something. The 2 cylinders made of wire mesh are protecting my latest find, Allegheny Plum, a rare and threatened native shrub. For now they’re only a few inches high but alive. There are two weedy asparagus beds and two other raised beds where I’ll be growing tomatoes, garlic, peppers and lettuce.
My neighbor seems to like cinderblock. I’m not so fond. I’ve planted New York ironweed, winterberry, switchgrass, big bluestem and American holly to hide it. Virginia creeper is also looking promising.
Sadly, I cut down a wild black cherry because I thought it was too close to the house. With its trunk and a trash can lid, I’ve made a bird bath.
But all over the garden are these little wild cherries that give me ideas.
What better thing to do in winter when you’re not completely overwhelmed with a wild garden than to strategize about how to make it not so wild. Let me clarify. To say my garden is weedy would be an understatement. Yes, I know every gardener thinks they have the weediest but no, seriously, mine’s the weediest. When I became blessed with the management of this piece of land some seven years ago, it was rampant with just about every kind of weed imaginable. I won’t name them because that would take forever. I guess had I been more sensible I wouldn’t have decided to have a garden let alone a pretty big one but I did. So, here I am reactively dealing.
Weeds have always kind of fascinated me. When I was around eight, I dug up dandelions, put them in pots and tried to sell them in front of my house. I didn’t understand why people just laughed. Always a bit on the odd side myself, I’ve always kind of identified with them and their ability to consistently annoy with their persistent and awkward presence. Of course like native plants, weeds can’t be precisely defined. They are basically just plants one person but usually a large group of people don’t want.
I hope weeds have helped me build character. I realize they are here and as my Aunt Cherie used to say, “I’ll die and leave em.” Or, as the old saying goes, “if you can’t beat em, join em,” because weeds are kind of like a noose that keeps getting tighter the more you pull to break free.
I’ve come to realize weeds are usually double edged swords in that they usually have some useful qualities as well as annoying ones and all weeds help to control soil erosion. Many weeds also have nutritional and medicinal purposes. As it turns out, those dandelions I was potting so long ago are nutritional and medicinal power houses, rich in vitamins and antioxidants.
The one characteristic of all weeds is they are tough and aggressive plants whose job it seems is to cover recently disturbed ground until the more permanent stuff such as shrubs, grasses and trees can take root. In other words, unless they are invasive, weeds seem to be part of a ecologically strategic process.
So, we come to that word, invasive. The one no matter how hard we gardeners try, just can’t avoid coming across again and again. The word that may be as annoying as weeds. The word that describes so many old garden favorites. That darn inconvenient truth that these plants, through no fault of their own were moved by humans to places where they have no competition and support very little or nothing. Unfortunately for the ecosystem, invasive plants are here to stay. I have nothing against these plants. They are important to an ecosystem somewhere, just not in my garden and not in my watershed. And so, with a weary heart, I try to do my part and prevent these plants from spreading. Is it fair for me to lower these legendary plants to the class of weed? Regardless of my perceptions, I feel I must do what I can to prevent these wonderful, extraordinary plants from doing harm to other wonderful, extraordinary plants.
The invasive plants I’m in the process of removing:
English ivy: I think everyone knows this one. It is pretty good at growing in forested areas where it displaces native plants and kills trees. I pull ivy in early spring when it’s easy to spot the vines. As the vines don’t seem to die quickly after being pulled, I dispose of them in the trash.
Tree of Heaven, Asian Bush Honeysuckleand White Mulberry : These woodies are known for displacing native plants among other things but mostly displacing native plants. I had quite a few white mulberries entangled with the chain link fence that bordered my garden. Over time I dug them out. Not an easy task and much easier when the trees are no bigger than two feet rather than twenty. To dig them up, I first used a grub hoe to loosen the dirt around the roots, then a shovel to remove the dirt, then loppers to cut the roots and finally the grub hoe again to yank out any remaining roots leading to that final yank when the whole mass breaks loose. For larger tap roots, I use an axe or have my husband use a chainsaw (yes, I’m one of those who don’t do well with power tools). I suppose I could have just kept cutting them back and I do for some I have yet to get to.
Porcelain Berry: This vine forms thick layers over trees and shrubs robbing them of light, water and nutrients. It is easily confused with wild grape and one way to tell the difference is its flower clusters as well as its blue and purple berries stick straight up. The best way to remove porcelain berry is to cut the vines at the bottom before they set fruit. If possible I try to pull them up by the roots as well as cutting them.
The next list of weeds aren’t on any major invasive plant list but because they do damage and I find them ugly they’re on my hit list.
Bermudagrass: I ended up writing so much about this plant I gave it its own post.
Bindweed: This extremely fast growing vine in the morning glory family strangles plants and does a wonderful job of spreading itself all over hedges. I’m pretty sure the type of bindweed I have is hedge bindweed and it is easily confused with a similar looking vine in the milkweed family called honeyvine, except it has large white, morning glory like flowers. With roots that can go down over 12 feet deep, digging them up is not a good option. Mostly, I just keep pulling the vines at the base when I find them especially before it flowers in late summer. It made itself pretty comfortable growing on a chain link fence surrounding my garden where it must have been establishing itself since the beginning of time. After taking down the chain link fence, I’ve been careful not to put any other trellis type objects in its path as well as making sure I can pass the mower over the area from time to time as well. It thrives especially well in heat and flowers just at that time when the mosquitoes are at their worst making this plant a close tie for first place as being the most annoying.
Ground Ivy (also known as Creeping Charlie): This plant in the mint family, does a very good job of covering ground. It’s rhizomatic roots form dense mats and will cover large areas especially when they are moist and shady. I’ve kind of given up doing battle with this one, preferring to let it act as a ground cover since it doesn’t seem to do too much harm to existing plants and even though I’m not really in love with how it looks, I can live with it. Of course I make sure to keep areas where I’m growing seeds clear of it. If I find time in the spring when the ground is nice and damp, I’ll drag a bow rake over it and pull like heck. Slowly, with a lot of effort, the entire mat will pull up leaving nice fresh bare soil that I’d better fill in with something else or that Creeping Charlie will just creep right back.
And all the other weeds: Well, they are just child’s play compared with the others. Some, such as pokeweed and white snakeroot are native and have ecological and (I feel) aesthetic value so I let them stay. Others such as yellow nutsedge, American burnweed, broadleaf plantain, goosegrass and ragweed, I pull. And others, such as common milkweed and sneezeweed, I plant, inconspicuously of course. After all, they’re just weeds.
So, as old weeds become new garden favorites and old garden favorites become new weeds, I wonder if my garden isn’t becoming wilder instead of more orderly. Maybe weeds are just reminders of our own imperfections such as our incessant need for order and control. They seem to follow us wherever we go, mocking us, maybe Mother Nature’s form of a joke except I’m not the one getting the last laugh and the only thing I do know is I’ll die and leave em.
I take it back, that last title, I mean. There really isn’t anything easy about landscape restoration. In fact, there isn’t anything easy about gardening at all. It’s not hard because it’s back breaking work and a constant struggle against weeds and pests or what to plant where or how much to water. Gardening is hard because it is gray. There is no one recipe for the perfect garden. No garden of Eden. And that is for me I think, part of the fascination. While there is much science in gardening, gardening is not a science.
After the election, I began to feel like it’s ridiculous to even be talking about gardening. It just seems so frivolous, so petty when there are so many crazy things happening in the world but I can’t seem to help myself. I’m obsessed. I think it’s because gardening is simply all I’ve got. If we could all just get our hands in some dirt we’d be fine. Breathe in the air. Listen to the birds. Feel the sun. Heal ourselves from the bottom up. Look over our fences and greet our neighbors on the other side. What are they growing? Do they like hot peppers?
But alas, I am directing my husband through rush hour traffic using the Google traffic map and the neighbors probably don’t appreciate my garden. I shudder to think how my neighbor feels about the white snakeroot deadheads snaking their way onto his driveway or my use of layered cardboard and dead leaves as mulch that I confidently assure my husband will be the last time.
I’m not your average gardener, you see. If there were a word to describe my gardening style it would probably be eccentric, extreme or more likely, sloppy. The desired function of my garden is to supply myself with food and wildlife and wildlife with food and shelter. Secondary to that is beauty and order. I can’t stand spending money which is probably why I like to grow from seed and use cardboard and leaves as mulch instead of wood chips.
I should probably cater more towards my neighbor’s taste. After all, it’s the neighborly thing to do but that would most likely entail no garden at all. Only sod. Plain old, ordinary, sod. God. I’d shoot myself. Maybe I could tone down the wilderness a bit. I plan to once things start to fill in but for now…
Maybe my neighbor doesn’t hate it too much. After all, we put a nice fence in recently. He made a point to say how nice it looked. It was the first time he’d said something to us, well my husband, not me, in at least a year. “Fences make good neighbors,” as my mom loves to say.
In some other life, I had a neighbor similar to this. He also was the yard type. I had him all figured out, you see. The type who could never have enough power tools and a mower that made a terrible grinding noise every time it went over a rock. He never stopped or moved the rock so he didn’t hit it the next time, just kept on going over the same one. He set his mower so low it scalped any uneven ground. I guess his strategy was he wouldn’t have to mow as often. He liked to mow when the ground was wet. Never mind that the mower would break down every ten feet. When he was finished his yard belonged in an art gallery on Fifth Avenue. I saw him use his leaf blower on the last colorful leaves of fall still clinging to the branch of a tree. I guess he was trying to hurry up the fall process so he could move on to the next season already. Several times during the summer he’d walk the perimeter of his rectangular lot, spray canister in hand, happily dousing Roundup on anything in its path. Sometimes he’d get carried away and the greens in my adjacent garden beds would turn an eerie white.
He used to try and be neighborly. He’d offer me power tools as tokens of peace. When he saw me cutting down a tree with a hand saw, he offered a chain saw. When he saw me turning my sod with a shovel, he offered me a rototiller. With each gift offering, I always declined saying doing it by hand was my workout. Finally, he didn’t offer anymore. It was a little sad now that I think about it.
My neighbor had a certain strategy to his yard work. I don’t think it was so much about efficiency as it was about ritual. Despite his industriously efficient methods, I believe yard work was actually something he enjoyed. He was a fidgety man. He needed to keep moving and what better way to do it than spending equal amounts of time behind each power tool. He didn’t want to think. He wanted to do.
It was not always this way. There was talk in the neighborhood that at one time an old lady lived in my neighbor’s house and had a beautiful garden filled with Thai peppers and lemongrass. A handsome pear tree was all that remained of the mysterious garden. Each year its fruit would slowly disappear, carried away by squirrels, crows and other critters. No one knew how the lady was related to my neighbor or what became of her.
My neighbor was not without his own small garden. Each year a car load of large tropical plants would appear. He would line them up like soldiers along the side of the house, their only maintenance, a thorough watering each morning. There they would stay until fall when they would be put back in the car and taken to some unknown location until spring.
While his yard was sparse in the way of herbaceous plants, he didn’t seem to mind a canopy of trees. A mature silver maple, dogwood and a few white mulberry trees lined the edge of his property. An old cedar grew out from the foundation of his house. I’m not sure if he appreciated the presence of these trees but they were there nevertheless, much to the relief of many birds, insects and animals.
Despite our drastic differences, somehow, my neighbor and I had developed an understanding. In fact, I realized I almost preferred him to a neighbor more like myself who would always be awkwardly there requiring constant polite conversation or even worse someone with an impeccable yard, the kind with the solid, perfectly edged wood chip mulch islands dotted evenly with garden center shrubs and the all too obvious home security system marker. The kind of neighbor who would always be looking down at me making me feel like a sloppy heel. My neighbor and I were equal in our imperfections. We had our flaws and we knew it and I think that’s what inspired our mutual understanding. The strange thing was that it actually gave me freedom. I didn’t feel the need to impress him so there was no need to live up to any standards. I didn’t feel the need to have an impeccable yard. As long as I kept things out of his area, I could experiment. I could take time to grow native plants from seed, use cardboard and leaves as mulch, make a rain garden, grow unusual cover crops. Out of the the awkward function, came a beautiful form, a garden where the earth gave back her treasures and I helped them grow into something bountiful. Maybe it wasn’t perfect. Maybe it wasn’t helping our property values but it was in its way harmonious, however imperfect, perfect in its imperfection, a fine balance between a mower and a grower.