Cover your beds with mulch

My garden is large—perhaps an acre and a half—but simple, as befits a former cow pasture. A 100-foot-long perennial border follows the contours of the east-facing hillside. Behind it, paths run athwart the slope in the shade of overhanging maples and among deciduous shrubs underplanted with ferns and hostas.

The lawn stretches north between the long border and a huge, old juniper hedge. The so-called “new borders,” dug in 1990, partially enclose this panel of lawn. Beyond these beds lie shade plantings and the woodland garden. A crescent bed planted chiefly with daylilies is the most recent addition.

It has always been a trick, keeping up such a large place. But settling for tough, ordinary perennials—like daylilies (Hemerocallis cvs., USDA Hardiness Zones 3–10), rudbeckias (Rudbeckia spp. and cvs., Zones 3–11), sedums (Sedum spp. and cvs., Zones 3–9), and catmints (Nepeta spp. and cvs., Zones 3–8)—worked well enough. And mulch solved what otherwise might have been a real maintenance problem.

Introduced to the benefits of organic mulch 25 years ago, I’ve been covering the perennial beds with year-old leaves ever since. This management technique has allowed me to garden, almost singlehandedly, for a great many years. I gather leaves into an expansive pile in the fall. In spring, I mulch every square inch of soil between the perennials with 3 inches of these hoarded leaves. This layer of leaves shades out weed seedlings, conserves moisture, and breaks down during the season, providing organic plant food.

Shredded wood-chip mulch, purchased in bulk, is the next best thing. Brid and I have been using it in the wilder parts of the garden: along the paths, on the shrub plantings, under a pair of old apple trees, and on the crescent bed. It doesn’t break down as quickly and is heavier than the leaf mulch. It also lasts longer and has proved the solution to managing these large, rough areas. These efforts should be all that is necessary for the season, except for occasional weed pulling. It has been a struggle, however, to complete the job before summer arrives, and as we are both busier than before, we now need help in the form of some professionals.

Replace perennials with shrubs and trees

Last fall, Brid and I embarked on an ambitious overhaul. Many daylilies were sacrificed to make way for a linden viburnum (Viburnum dilatatum* ‘Asian Beauty’, Zones 5–8), a weigela (Weigela florida ‘Variegata Nana’, Zones 5–8), two compact oakleaf hydrangeas (Hydrangea quercifolia ‘Sike’s Dwarf’, Zones 5–9), a golden spirea (Spiraea japonica* ‘Goldmound’, Zones 4–9), and a small but ravishing variegated Korean dogwood (Cornus kousa ‘Gold Star’, Zones 5–8). Most of these shrubs need pruning only once a year, instead of the regular deadheading, staking, and frequent division that many perennials require.

Perhaps the quickest route to lower maintenance in a flower bed is the elimination of plants that require even a little too much care. Gone from my garden are the balloon flowers and Russian sage; both have lax stems that invariably flop over. While I miss them, the beds are less trouble and look better. In the long run, a beautiful border is a manageable one. Fewer kinds of perennials, each with their own individual demands, make for ease of management.

Simplify your approach to edges

Harder than giving up a bit of variety within the beds is letting go of their once immaculately cut edges. Edging every bed once or twice a season is just too time-consuming now. But I have learned to live with a reasonably tidy edge maintained using a string trimmer. The trick is to leave a space between the edge and the plants, to keep that space weeded, and to trim carefully and uniformly.

Another strategy that helps maintain the lines of the beds is to choose foreground plants that remain neat and attractive all season. In the sun, I favor low-growing grasses and naturally compact, orderly perennials that have good-looking foliage and either bloom for a long time or recover quickly from shearing.

Gardening is all about change, about hanging on and letting go. At a certain stage, the gardener must look at every plant and ask hard questions: “Have I the time and energy to give this plant what it needs? And if not, do I love it enough to give it what it needs anyway?” Often, alas, the answer may be “No.” But then there are the exceptions, like a blue-and-white-striped balloon flower. It was given to me by a perfect stranger. He found it as a seedling in his aunt’s garden and named it ‘Louise’ in her honor. I could never willingly part with ‘Louise’. In some ways, I just can’t let go.