Revisioning Sissinghurst as Though It Were Overgrown With Buttercup

The milkweed is allowed to stay next to the raspberry patch. The yarrow does exceptionally well in front of the bus. The virgin’s bower was made for the stone greenhouse. Or vice versa. Iron weed likes the pond, joe pye the driveway.

It’s all well and good when the prettier of the wild things choose a place where they can be allowed to stay. I consider that co-habitation, though it is on my terms. I get accustomed to these things growing where they are, and would probably miss them if they didn’t show up one year.

I wonder, at times, what would happen if I didn’t tend to anything. No plows. No mowers. No mulch. Would the milkweed join hands with the yarrow? The virgin’s bower creep up next to the joe pye weed?

No. It would be dock and multiflora,  with a sprinkle of color here and there. Then sumac and poplar, growing out of brier so thick you couldn’t walk through it.

I am selective about what gets to stay. Most people are like that with house guests. It seems like a lot of trouble, sometimes. But I find that when I am thorny or colorless I am rarely invited over to stay.