One Is Not Enough
Agreeing with the title, you would include peanuts,
chocolate and sex in your list of items that bear repetition. All
with that ineffable “Wow!” factor. Others could be mentioned, but
I'm typing pretty fast and don't have the time to go back, as I'm
late for dessert.
'Plants in a garden' also fits the title. Most plants
need to be among friends to have an impact. A single azalea doesn't
have the power of a cluster of them: I have a line of 3 'Daysprings'
by the driveway, 2 'B.G. Reds' in front of the porch, 2 'Renee
Michelles' around a large oak, etc. One 'Mildred Mae', by that same
oak, is old but, has layered so many times that she covers a lot of
ground, and is like the Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe.
 |
| April 25, 2019 in the essayists garden |
A variety dominating an area gets the “Wow!”
factor.
I remember wandering in my garden, then turning around
and coming face-to-face with an explosion of bright purple 'Amoenum'.
The tallest plants were head-height and others surrounded it chest
high. The whole mass was an overwhelming statement!
Moving away from flowers, large clumps of a single
variety of hosta can draw your attention as a focal point.
Several modest Japanese Maples in full fall color
demand you bow to them. A single one, larger than any one of the
grouping by itself, can't match that power. The mass of reds and
oranges will have you taking pictures from close up, far away,
horizontal, vertical, brighter, dimmer and polarized. Results will be
put into a folder titled “Wow!”
The opposite of the above is dropping single plants
into a bed because space is available, or plants all from the same
hybridizer but looking individually different, or plants all grouped
because they carry the names of movie stars, or [insert silly reason
here: ...]. They don't mass and just seem random until you are
informed of their common links. That requires a slight grin and
chuckle: “How droll.” But, you don't say “Wow!”
The opinion above doesn't apply in cramped
surroundings, where variety is a better goal than swarms. Small
decks, apartment patios, or townhouse backyards are candidates for
interesting varieties, where two of a kind would require the
exclusion of something else that screams “Hey. Over here. Look at
me!”
However, in a normal suburban backyard, after reducing
the grassy area by 80%, replacing it with something less
horticulturally mindless, trashing the hardscape design with a sledge
hammer, and tearing out the English Ivy, there will be space. Space
to stretch out and settle in.
“Wow!”
Feel free to exclaim it again; even backwards!
