by Jennifer Langille
All gardeners have their own vision of what a vegetable garden should be.
Some need them to be neat, tidy and always ready for Instagram-worthy photos.
For others, it’s about embracing the wild, letting the garden grow unruly and free.
The purely practical gardeners focus on high production and bountiful yields for canning, storing and otherwise ‘putting up’.
Others are more laissez-faire and are happy to have a few fresh treats to snack on throughout the summer.
Most of us want homegrown, delicious produce. We relish in the satisfaction that comes with the joy of growing food from seed to harvest and we all do it in our own way.
The focus of my gardening labours, until a few years ago, was primarily in the realm of vast ornamental plantings. Give me a sweeping perennial border, and be still my green heart.
My early experiments with vegetable gardening were fairly conventional: straight, orderly, single-species plantings, and, I confess, some panicked spraying at the sight of an aphid or moth.
Over time, my beds have evolved into something very different.
This spring, I decided to veer away drastically from the conventional. I used to interplant a few marigolds and calendulas in the beds, but I decided this year to expand my vision and include lots more annual flowers and herbs than before.
The results are most gratifying: somewhat unruly, a bit on the wild side for me, and I love it!
The positive consequences were immediate: adding flowering annuals to the vegetable garden attracted so many more pollinators that transport pollen from flower to flower, including the vegetable flowers. That’s so important.
Seeing a butterfly, bee or cute lady beetle explore the marigolds warms my heart and keeps me company as I putter.
As the flowers grew along with the vegetables and the habitat for beneficial insects flourished, I began to notice a wonderful balance in this little ecosystem.
Aphids and cabbage moths still came, but left to nature, the garden solved its own problems, or at least kept them under control.
One example is kale.
This member of the brassica family is notorious for succumbing to the dreaded white cabbage moth. The larvae of these garden pests can destroy everything, skeletonizing entire plantings overnight.
Since the addition of flowers in the garden this year, I have observed the odd bit of damage, but nothing compared to previous years.
I am a flagrant anthophile, that is to say someone who has an unmitigated love of flowers.
The greatest, unexpected benefit has been how the flowers now draw me daily (sometimes even hourly) into the vegetable garden. They exert a kind of bribery to entice me there, and I don’t so much mind the more laborious garden tasks – the tending, the weeding, and the pruning.
Here are some things I did.
- I amped up the usual marigolds and calendulas. Not only did I plant more of those favourites, but I threw in cosmos and bachelor’s buttons seeds in between the rutabaga and parsnips.
- End of season, sale-priced annuals and herbs were tucked in and around the onions, turnips and tomatoes. Instead of one or two basil plants, I started a whole seed tray and tucked them in every corner.
- Oregano, chamomile and basil fill gaps nicely.
- I built a twig arch that is being beautifully engulfed in a mass of morning glories (go vertical!) and I put in trellises for scarlet runner beans, which I grow mostly for their fiery blooms.
Initially, I added a small, bubbling water feature and a bird bath to the vegetable garden for their soothing sounds and cooling visual effects.
But water sources in the garden are important for attracting birds, dragonflies, bees and other beneficial creatures, offering bathing and drinking opportunities.
I even went beyond the vegetable beds when it came to making use of annual flowers.
Some of them, like flowering tobacco, rambling petunias and verbena bonariensis had self-seeded in the gravel paths. Previously, they would have been weeded out but I left them there to flourish.
Flowering tobacco is a sacrificial, or trap plant. It acts as a decoy, attracting pests such as aphids and thrips away from nearby plants. Nasturtiums, basil and marigolds are also trap plants.
Pots of flowers dot the corners and ends of garden beds.
My vegetable beds have now evolved into a pulsing, interconnected ecosystem.
Marrying flowers and vegetables felt like a logical progression, the natural thing to do. It’s companion planting. It’s a happy jumble of all sorts of plants, but there is method, beauty and even some sort of organization to it all.
In this small corner of the vegetable garden pictured below, there are zinnia, verbena bonariensis, marigold, Swiss chard, yellow pole beans, scarlet runner beans and bloody dock. Quite a jumble indeed, but so gorgeous and efficient!
I have strayed beyond the neat and orderly in my vegetable garden now, but fellow Libras out there will know how crucial balance in our environments is to our sense of order and well-being.
It feels like I have found it in my – for me – little wild garden.
And Sophie agrees!
Copyright©2024 Elizabeth Spence and Jennifer Langille
One Response
Congratulations, Jennifer on all your gardening posts. I enjoy reading each one. Chris makes sure I see them. Keep up the terrific work!