Starting out as a gardener seemed like a daunting task. My friends and mother and mother-in-law who are veteran gardeners seemed to have a whole different vocabulary. They can recognize what is a weed, and what is something that was deliberately planted in the garden, what all these strange things were called. They know that what it written on the seed packet is invariably wrong in some way and how to compensate. I clearly was not born with this extensive knowledge and I felt like I had when I gave birth and had to figure out how to deal with an infant or when I started a new job. I suppose the stakes were not as serious, and daisies and poppies are ultimately easier than diapers and poopies. Or maybe not, mine all crapped out before getting bigger than one inch tall. "Just try things and make mistakes until something works" was some of the nicest advice I got. Also, don't plant anything much the first summer, see what comes up. This was when I learned that I had no clue what was a weed and what wasn't except for the obvious dandelions (which I actually like), and nettles which I had the misfortune to have met before. Josh showed me what burdock was and helped me get rid of it. At least we tried to, it is not easy to succeed. I did manage to identify a few real plants but there were lots of unknown out there. I left a lot of things alone for the time being. I had the further challenge at the beginning of this summer in that I planted all kinds of things and I could not remember what I planted, and where I planted it, nor did I know what they looked like as new sprouts. I was afraid to weed up my baby garden so I took it real slow.
My friend and veteran gardener Olga taught me an important lesson. Weeds are just plants in the wrong place. Some of them are lovely flowers whose seeds were dropped by a bird or blew over the fence. My super beautiful spaghetti squash plant which grew up my back neighbour's lilac tree was an amusement for us all. The other one that crossed through Iulia's fence and started to strangle her mother's tomatoes was less welcome.
So I have now learned that these surprise, unexpected plants (formerly known to me as weeds) fall into a few categories. There are the unwelcome ones, invasive plants which may be attractive but strangle out other plant life. Goutweed, morning glory, even mint and oregano can easily cross the line, as well as creeping charlie (Chloe warned me to get rid of it even though it is pretty and looked like a cute little violet to me). Josh is a genius for containing these plants so we can enjoy my electric purple morning glories and drink mint tea and mint lemonade all summer without it taking over everything else.
Another category of weeds are the edible ones. I already knew that young dandelions can be eaten in salads or added to soups. Olga introduced me to lamb's quarters which I have added to my selection of salad greens. I like it so much I am letting it go to seed and spread among my peppers and basil. She also really likes nettle soup, but they are really a pain to deal with because the thorns go right through my garden gloves even if I just accidentally brush against one. I gave up on tolerating them and spent two days removing the spines embedded under my skin when I cleared them out of the bathtub (the one in my yard, full of basil. A bathtub full of nettles sounds like a bizarre medieval torture!). I suspect they will grow back. Maybe we will achieve a soup at some point. Josh says no we won't because he "really really hates them." Another surprise was that what I though was a variety of clover which sprang up on the fringes of the hay turned up decorating a cake at a friend's birthday party. "Is that edible?" I asked. Elvi told me it was shamrock, or wood sorrel. It has a surprisingly lemony taste. It also adds a nice touch to salads. I suspect its seeds were part of the hay. It spreads slowly and has small yellow flowers so I let it grow and harvest a bit at a time.
Some "weeds" are baby trees. I have had several crab apple trees sprout, of which I have kept two, but have also had an oak tree and countless other less exciting trees sprout. A friend with more land than I have has adopted the oak. Some are what Amy taught me are called "volunteers." Some lovely purple flowers which I admired in a neighbourhood garden turned up in mine this summer, and I am certain I never planted them. My black-eyed susans are surrounded by some flowerless weeds with similar leaves, as well as a few foxgloves, and until the flowers came out, I had no idea which one was which. I still haven't ripped out the ones which were not the flowers, just in case they still surprise me. A patch of milkweed popped up in an unlikely shady spot where I was delighted to let them spread, as they form a monarch nursery. None of the other butterfly-attracting flowers I planted over the past two summers grew. I am still not sure if the milkweed was part of that seed mix or just a surprise. I also had some pretty purple orchid-y things that have added a nice touch to my flower garden.
The last category are the compost pop-ups. This year I have one potato plant and one corn plant. Josh did not want to bother with potatoes, and I talked him out of trying corn, but the garden made its own choice so we ended up with one of each in the middle of the pepper patch (which had got the bulk of the compost this year, being right next to the ripe compost box).
Looking back, it seems that I have already learned a lot. My goal next year is to learn what all the stuff in my garden is called, weed or not.And to recognize what I planted this summer when it sprouts...
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