Viburnum would...
Abundance. It’s a very spiritual sort of word. A former next-door neighbour was really into Feng shui and would talk glowingly on the subject of abundance.
The lucky owners of The Grumpy Gardener’s Handbook have already been introduced to him. He was the man we nicknamed Arthur ‘Two Sheds’ Jackson, after the Monty Python character. Because he had two sheds. For the record they were both regulation, 6’ x 4’ apex roofed sheds and I always wondered why he bought two when he could have had one big one. However now I realise he probably wanted them in balance – to even out all that lopsided ‘chi’ energy in his garden.
Abundance often thrusts itself at you in the garden. There is the usual abundance of weeds throughout the year, an abundance of codling moth in Von Stauffenberg’s apple tree, but on the pleasant side, an abundance of nice plants wanting to make more of themselves.
The other day I was sweeping leaves away that had lurked under a viburnum since autumn, and I found that in those favourable conditions, a low-lying branch that had pinned itself to the ground had started to produce shoots at all the leaf points. I had in my hand the potential for 9 or 10 mini viburnum plants.
No cutting at leaf nodes and dipping in rooting hormone and sticking in a plastic bag for two months, these were ready to be stuck into some potting compost and let loose. Then the rational side of the brain - which rarely interferes in the decision-making process - kicked in. What was I going to do with 9 or 10 viburnums. Where on earth was I going to plant them?
I already have a collection of 48 lavenders, two chardonnay vines, two fir trees from the massive specimen that was nudging up to the house when we bought it, several hydrangeas, five beech trees (these always come in handy, don’t they) and sundry others stacked in a holding pattern of pots at the bottom of the garden. Did I really need another 9 to add to the queue?
Such is the reflex reaction of a gardener to abundance. When it presents itself, striving to happen, we want to assist it all we can. Perhaps it’s human nature. When the reproductive drive stops indoors, it transfers itself outdoors to the garden.
Sad to say that I took a long lingering look at my prospective viburnum collection and then consigned it to the compost pyre. It was a victory for pragmatism.
