Ain’t Misbehaving

This is a post I wrote a year ago but didn’t publish. I’ve made a few edits and additions and I am posting it now — I feel a little less at sea this year, but I’m sure the plants are still giggling behind my back.

I saw a social media post recently about Creeping Bellflower (Campanula rapunculoides) and ran outside in a panic to see whether the lovely purple spikes I had welcomed into the garden, knowing that they were sneaking in from the alley rather than invited guests, were INVASIVE!

Update: My gardeners wanted to pull them; maybe they are the invasive. Who knows. I’ll keep a good eye on them and see how they behave.

Thank goodness, no! This gentleman from the University of Wisconsin went over Creeping Bellflower leaf-by-leaf to teach us how to identify it, and my plants are innocent! Well, mostly innocent, not a total thug! (“Never been indicted!” as a certain Chicago alderman used to brag. I believe he is now headed to prison.) It has spread in from the alley, into a couple of places in the backyard, and I do recall that Jason didn’t like them as much as I do, and would pull them out when he wanted to plant something else. But there are a lot of good plants in Chicago alleys — that’s a post for another time — and I’m keeping this one for now.

Let me tell you, however, how much some plants have taken advantage of Jason’s absence to sneak into all sorts of spots in the garden beds! Uvularia waltzed around a corner, jumped across the driveway, and over a border into the bed with the ostrich ferns. Mr. Golden Alexander is setting himself up anywhere he thinks he can get a foot in the door (or a root in the ground). About a third of the plants in the garden are taking advantage of the regular gardener’s absence to tiptoe around and visit each other, leap into each other’s beds, and have a good time.

Yes, they look great, but those yellow Celandine poppies are thugs!

The worst offender, by far, is Celadine Poppy (Stylophorum diphyllum), looking so innocent and decorative above. This is partly my fault, as I am a soft touch when it comes to discipling wayward flowers. Jason noted a few years ago that Celandine Poppies can be quite a bully to smaller plants, but that taller and hardier plants (like wild geranium) can fight it off. I think I need to contain it to only certain beds, or it will take over everything. It even set itself up in a flower bed at the neighbor’s house this year — fortunately, they welcomed it. I did warn them about its promiscuity.

In addition to the Celandine poppies everywhere, look closely and you will see a bit of the uvularia which is hiding behind and just to the right of the daffodil leaves, in the very center of the photo. It’s taking advantage of the fact that it is yellow, but you can see the inverted V-shapes of its flowers. Well camouflaged, indeed!

Another group of plants have vanished altogether. Well, some have just vanished and I regret to say, some were probably hollering at me to be saved from rabbits and thuggish plants, and I heard their cries too late. The flower bed above, with the ferns and poppies, for example, used to be full of bleeding hearts. Did they gradually just decline, or were they throttled by the Celandine Poppies? I’m not sure.

A few years ago, Jason planted Golden Groundsel in a blank spot at the back of the garden, with a direct sightline from where I sit on the sunporch. It bloomed gloriously and I loved it!! It vanished in 2022, but we didn’t have what it took to investigate. In 2023, I was watching for it, closely, I thought. This shot above is from May 11, 2021, so I knew when to be looking. I didn’t see it, and I asked Kasey, from Vivant, to take a look. She didn’t see it, and we made a plan to replant it for next year. Maybe it accidentally got pulled because it looks too much like certain weeds, or maybe it just failed to thrive.

Well. I went back later, and here’s what I found. Left photo, first day: leaves and buds right where they should be; next day, on the right, stumps!!!

Dang blasted rabbits!!! And probably the Groundsel was hollering for my attention the whole time, and I just didn’t know what to look for and got out the anti-rabbit powder too late. I got a bit of bloom out of it in 2024, but not like before.

Next up, we have the mystery of the Allium Caeruleum. Here they are in 2022, blooming along with the Allium Christophii. I remember planting the bulbs not long ago. Sigh, not a one in 2023. Did they die out? Did they get pulled as weeds because I didn’t know to tell someone they were there? Hard to imagine either of those possibilities completely wiping them out, but there you are. A garden mystery, one of many. We replanted for 2024, but they were not as glorious as they had been.

I think these blue Allium caeruleum are just gorgeous. I’ve replanted them, but they have never looked this good again.

Meanwhile, the asters seem to have planted themselves all over the place, by ones and twos, poking up where they are not meant to be. On the other hand, I’m worried about where the goldenrod is — but maybe it’s there, and I just don’t see it.

I feel a bit like a substitute teacher. I now repent about how wicked we were to substitutes! Our favorite game was to make up new names. The whole class would solemnly swear that the kid in the front of the middle row was and always had been Tex. I can hear the flowers giggling behind my back: You jump over here, she won’t notice, and look, let’s all crowd into this bed and see what happens!

Wait, I don’t recall Monarda in this flower bed? And the Borage has moved to a new location, crossing the driveway. Jason was not a strict disciplinarian, and he knew that flowers needed to be grown in spots where they were happy, but he also knew how to keep them from completely running amok. He would not have fallen for the Tex gambit.

Even the pots on the patio, drat them, are getting into the act. Look at how these Impatiens are overwhelming the Caladium. The Caladium started out with plenty of space, and should have been just fine. But no, I turned my back, and one day I could hardly see where they were, under the Impatiens. I know we’ve always planted them together in the past; it was one of the tasks I generally did.

Let’s end with two slightly more upbeat happenings, from 2024. In the photo below, a number of alliums have decided to try out a new bed, without waiting to ask my permission. But they have chosen well, crossing both the driveway and the driveway border, and ending up in the central island bed in the front yard. Excellent placement, I should have thought of it myself!

And last but not least, a visit from a scarlet tanager, who stayed and posed very nicely while I fetched the camera. And who didn’t seem too horrified by the state of the water in the birdbath (I am getting better at keeping it refreshed, I promise!).

Does your garden sometimes pull tricks when you’re not watching? Do you feel like a substitute teacher in your own yard?