An uncommon problem
Apr. 17th, 2012 00:03![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
torquillThe usual problem for gardeners is "So many plants, so little space!" Many of them are drowning in the shade created by the cute trees they (or their neighbors) planted twenty years ago, which aren't so cute anymore. I know so many who say "well, I don't have a lot of sun, and I don't know where I'll put it, but I'll find somewhere!"
I have too much space.
It really is possible to have too much land, at least if you're not looking to cultivate it for food or animals. There are limits to how much time and energy I (or my parents) can put into harvesting and disposing of fruits and veggies, so cramming the place with fruit trees would only feed the abundant squirrels. My veggie garden is already slightly larger than is comfortable come harvest time. And so we are left with the other 60% of this 30,000-square-foot property, which has to be managed in some way because otherwise the invasive weeds (including trees) bury us all. The sheer amount of effort that goes into just mowing the weedy grasses in the spring to avoid a notice from the fire department is almost more than we can handle, even with a riding mower.
Mulch is good. Mulch is a start. However, getting and spreading mulch every 5-10 years is a chore, especially in the "Back Forty" where the only access is via a circuitous route through my neighbor's orchard. The Back Forty alone is over 4,000 square feet, so we're not talking "a pickup load or two will do ya". It'll take at least five and a half dump-truck-loads of wood chips for just a four-inch layer. Yeah, mulch is not a permanent solution.
Beyond mulch is real landscaping, the sort that discourages weeds by design. Trees and bushes which shade out most weeds and drop leaves for natural mulch, attractive herbaceous annuals and perennials which crowd them out, and properly-done hardscape which gives the seeds no purchase... that's the real solution to weedy open fields. But that takes design to get it right and to fit the needs of people living there. "Oh, I can stick an oleander there" is the sort of non-planning that gave us the current chaos.
So here I am, confronted with a 100'x300' property whose sole unliving features are the house, an outbuilding, various little sheds, and a Y-shaped gravel driveway. There are some trees that will stay, like the 60' wide Paradox walnut by the front porch, and the maple tree in the front lawn. Beyond that... even the walkways are negotiable, if necessary. I'll probably end up taking out an enormous number of volunteer and ill-suited trees (there is a stump grinder in my future, again). The lily-of-the-valley vine, which I'll keep a bit of for nostalgic and botanical reasons, will have to be ripped out of the 3500 square feet it currently covers and confined to a horse trough. The alliums will be beaten back severely (by digging many of them up, sigh). And then I have all that space to design..... something.
The front strip, where we earlier ripped out a large thicket of privet, wild almond, and acacia trees, is well on its way already. The only weeds to be concerned with there are the eternal bindweed, a scattering of oxalis, and encroaching bermudagrass (and if I have my way eventually, the bermuda will meet death everywhere, even if it kills half the lawn for a year or two). Its layer of wood chips is almost complete, I planted an apple, a nectarine, and an extensive herb garden out there, I'll stick a fabulous climbing rose at the very front, and the blueberry, currant, and rhubarb will round it out. We're set for an edible landscape.
I have my veggie garden, which is far less attractive, in the back, with hard-pipe irrigation. My dad wants a lawn in back to match the one in front. And other than that, it's open season. I'm trying to optimize things like where we put the trash bins and my storage for garden supplies (25 bags of leaves take up a bit of space) so that we can use our "useful" space effectively, but that's still a small fraction of the acreage available. Thank goodness we have a well, so I don't have to do all this completely dry.
Many people would salivate at the thought of having all this room to play with. I find it dismaying. What do I *do* with it all? Okay, you'd like an alpine garden. I have the edible garden. Want to do some California natives? Sure. What do we do with the next 10,000 square feet?
I've gotten to the point where I looked at the Master Gardener meeting topic this month (I have to miss it) and said "Designing a Garden Labyrinth... sure, we could do one of those. Should I make it 25' in diameter, or go for 45'? And what do I do with the rest of the Back Forty after that?" I can afford to throw away a square forty-five feet on a side on an ornamental whimsy. That's bigger than many people's back yards, period. And then I still have to figure out what to do with the rest of that area, and the ones on the sides, and the space between the drive and the house, and...
You see my problem. I'll spend some more time perusing the truly excellent pictures in the East Bay MUD Waterwise Handbook, which is full of various water-saving garden designs that are quite lovely. I'll scrounge my brain for fun low-maintenance things I've seen done elsewhere. (One thing to keep in mind is that the back half of the property might eventually be broken off if this place is sold, so going easy on the hardscape back there is best.) And I'll try to exercise discipline to focus on one area at a time, even though several have the gardening equivalents of four-alarm fires going on.
Talk about a challenging summer job.
I have too much space.
It really is possible to have too much land, at least if you're not looking to cultivate it for food or animals. There are limits to how much time and energy I (or my parents) can put into harvesting and disposing of fruits and veggies, so cramming the place with fruit trees would only feed the abundant squirrels. My veggie garden is already slightly larger than is comfortable come harvest time. And so we are left with the other 60% of this 30,000-square-foot property, which has to be managed in some way because otherwise the invasive weeds (including trees) bury us all. The sheer amount of effort that goes into just mowing the weedy grasses in the spring to avoid a notice from the fire department is almost more than we can handle, even with a riding mower.
Mulch is good. Mulch is a start. However, getting and spreading mulch every 5-10 years is a chore, especially in the "Back Forty" where the only access is via a circuitous route through my neighbor's orchard. The Back Forty alone is over 4,000 square feet, so we're not talking "a pickup load or two will do ya". It'll take at least five and a half dump-truck-loads of wood chips for just a four-inch layer. Yeah, mulch is not a permanent solution.
Beyond mulch is real landscaping, the sort that discourages weeds by design. Trees and bushes which shade out most weeds and drop leaves for natural mulch, attractive herbaceous annuals and perennials which crowd them out, and properly-done hardscape which gives the seeds no purchase... that's the real solution to weedy open fields. But that takes design to get it right and to fit the needs of people living there. "Oh, I can stick an oleander there" is the sort of non-planning that gave us the current chaos.
So here I am, confronted with a 100'x300' property whose sole unliving features are the house, an outbuilding, various little sheds, and a Y-shaped gravel driveway. There are some trees that will stay, like the 60' wide Paradox walnut by the front porch, and the maple tree in the front lawn. Beyond that... even the walkways are negotiable, if necessary. I'll probably end up taking out an enormous number of volunteer and ill-suited trees (there is a stump grinder in my future, again). The lily-of-the-valley vine, which I'll keep a bit of for nostalgic and botanical reasons, will have to be ripped out of the 3500 square feet it currently covers and confined to a horse trough. The alliums will be beaten back severely (by digging many of them up, sigh). And then I have all that space to design..... something.
The front strip, where we earlier ripped out a large thicket of privet, wild almond, and acacia trees, is well on its way already. The only weeds to be concerned with there are the eternal bindweed, a scattering of oxalis, and encroaching bermudagrass (and if I have my way eventually, the bermuda will meet death everywhere, even if it kills half the lawn for a year or two). Its layer of wood chips is almost complete, I planted an apple, a nectarine, and an extensive herb garden out there, I'll stick a fabulous climbing rose at the very front, and the blueberry, currant, and rhubarb will round it out. We're set for an edible landscape.
I have my veggie garden, which is far less attractive, in the back, with hard-pipe irrigation. My dad wants a lawn in back to match the one in front. And other than that, it's open season. I'm trying to optimize things like where we put the trash bins and my storage for garden supplies (25 bags of leaves take up a bit of space) so that we can use our "useful" space effectively, but that's still a small fraction of the acreage available. Thank goodness we have a well, so I don't have to do all this completely dry.
Many people would salivate at the thought of having all this room to play with. I find it dismaying. What do I *do* with it all? Okay, you'd like an alpine garden. I have the edible garden. Want to do some California natives? Sure. What do we do with the next 10,000 square feet?
I've gotten to the point where I looked at the Master Gardener meeting topic this month (I have to miss it) and said "Designing a Garden Labyrinth... sure, we could do one of those. Should I make it 25' in diameter, or go for 45'? And what do I do with the rest of the Back Forty after that?" I can afford to throw away a square forty-five feet on a side on an ornamental whimsy. That's bigger than many people's back yards, period. And then I still have to figure out what to do with the rest of that area, and the ones on the sides, and the space between the drive and the house, and...
You see my problem. I'll spend some more time perusing the truly excellent pictures in the East Bay MUD Waterwise Handbook, which is full of various water-saving garden designs that are quite lovely. I'll scrounge my brain for fun low-maintenance things I've seen done elsewhere. (One thing to keep in mind is that the back half of the property might eventually be broken off if this place is sold, so going easy on the hardscape back there is best.) And I'll try to exercise discipline to focus on one area at a time, even though several have the gardening equivalents of four-alarm fires going on.
Talk about a challenging summer job.
