MÉLANIe'S GARDENS

About water, plants and time

Across Grimsby and much of the Niagara Region, the last couple of weeks brought significant rainfall.

Flash flooding damaged roads, overwhelmed creeks, and left many gardens with washed away soil, displaced stone, and debris carried in by fast moving water.

In one garden I work in, the force of the water was enough to move large potato stones. Seeing rocks that size carried away by water is a reminder that landscapes are not nearly as static as they often appear.

We often think of land as something permanent. Our homes stay in the same place. The furniture inside rarely moves. At the pace of everyday life, it is easy to assume the landscape is equally still.

It isn’t.

Waterways shift. Slopes slowly change. Wind moves sand. Streams carve valleys. Floods happen, and as our climate changes, many places are experiencing them more often.

As gardeners, we often think of erosion as something to repair after it happens. Replace the soil, put the stones back, tidy the garden, and move on.

But storms ask a different question.

Not How do we repair this?

Instead:

How do we prepare for the next one?

That is where erosion control really begins.

Or perhaps more accurately, where we begin designing with water instead of against it.

Water is always moving

Water has always shaped the landscape.

Niagara Falls exists because of erosion. Over thousands of years, the falls have slowly carved their way upstream through the Niagara Escarpment. Smaller waterfalls, like Beamer Falls here in Grimsby, continue the same process today, only on a different scale.

Erosion is not unusual.

It is one of the ways landscapes change.

The goal is not to stop that change entirely. The goal is to understand how water moves through a landscape, and to work with those patterns.

Thinking in functions

When water moves across a landscape, it usually removes the lightest material first.

Sand moves before gravel.

Loose soil moves before larger stones.

Even clay can be washed away when the flow is strong enough.

When thinking about erosion, I find it helpful to think less about specific materials and more about the jobs they perform.

Some elements are obstacles.

Large boulders, mature trees, berms, and well placed hardscape slow or redirect water. They absorb energy and protect what lies behind them.

Other elements are facilitators of flow.

A smooth stone surface, or a stand of grasses, allows water to move through. Some surfaces accelarating water, some reducing its energy. Either way, rather than forcing water to stop, they guide it where we want it to go.

Good erosion control usually combines both.

Some elements redirect.

Others allow movement.

Together they shape how water travels through the landscape.

The real work happens below the surface

Most of the important, influential, and reliable work often happens below the surface.

What holds a landscape together is not simply what we see above ground, but the relationships beneath it.

Roots connect individual particles of soil into something much more difficult for water to move.

Different plants do this in different ways.

Trees and shrubs anchor the deeper layers of soil.

Grasses and sedges create dense fibrous networks that hold the surface together.

A healthy landscape uses both.

It is a multi layered system where different root depths and different root textures work together. The deeper anchors stabilize the slope, while the finer roots knit the surface together.

The real work is happening below the surface.

Small decisions, long consequences

One of the best known examples of this is the Dust Bowl of the 1930s.

Large areas of native prairie were converted to farmland, removing the deep rooted grasses that had held the soil together for thousands of years. When drought and strong winds arrived, enormous amounts of topsoil were carried away.

Closer to home, a similar story unfolded at Sandbanks Provincial Park. Trees were cleared and cattle grazed the dunes, removing the vegetation that stabilized the sand. Over time, the dunes began to move, burying roads, orchards, and even buildings before restoration efforts eventually began.

Different places.

The same principle.

Small decisions made upstream often have consequences that appear much later.

Designing for the next storm

When clients ask me how to control erosion, I understand the question.

But I often find myself asking a slightly different one.

How do we design for the next storm?

Sometimes the answer is immediate.

Large boulders, retaining walls, or reshaping the land can quickly redirect water and protect vulnerable areas.

Those are important tools.

What interests me most, however, is what plants quietly accomplish over time.

A native grass like big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii) or switchgrass (Panicum virgatum) may not look like much in its first year. Give it three years, and it has developed an extensive root system that is quietly holding the landscape together beneath the surface.

In shaded areas, various native Carex species perform a similar role, weaving dense fibrous roots through the upper layers of soil.

For structure, especially in frequently flooded sites, red osier dogwood provides both strong roots and resilient growth.

These are upstream decisions.

A relatively small action, taken at the right time, whose effects may not become obvious until years later.

That is one of the things I enjoy most about gardening.

The best solutions are often the small, simple ones, that evolve over time.

Good erosion control is less about fighting water than it is about helping the land hold itself together. It continues working long after we’ve gone home.

About techniques, tools and timing

The heat finally broke in Grimsby after Tuesday’s downpour. It also cleared the smoke from the northern Ontario wildfires that had been hanging over the area. Today seemed like a good day to weed. The temperatures were cooler, the soil was still moist from the rain, and the garden was ready for a little attention.

Last week we looked at a simple question.

What is a weed?

If you missed it, I recommend reading that post first. Once you consider what a weed is, the next question is how to remove it.

People often ask me when the best time to weed is.

The best time to weed is when you have time to weed.

That said, there are certainly times that make the job easier. After rain is one of my favourites because the moist soil lets go of weeds much more easily. During the hottest parts of summer, I’ll often weed in the shade or save it for days that are simply too hot for heavier garden work.

If you’re maintaining a mature garden, you’ll often find yourself pulling tiny weed seedlings as they emerge. At that point, there are very few surprises. You’re simply keeping up with them before they become established.

If you’re maintaining a more typical home garden, the important thing is to catch weeds before they flower and especially before they set seed. Different weeds also have their own seasons. Crabgrass, for example, is much easier to remove when it first begins to emerge than later in the summer after it has spread through a planting bed.

When I head out to weed, my setup is always the same.

I keep a sturdy construction bucket packed and ready to go. Inside are my Hori Hori knife, my Ho Mi hand hoe, my secateurs, a kneeling pad, and a good pair of gloves. I also bring along a larger yard waste bag or bin to empty the bucket into as I work.

I like construction buckets because they’re almost indestructible. They carry weeds, tools, and water, and in a pinch they make a perfectly good seat. But any bucket will do, even a spare empty pot.

My gloves usually have a latex coated palm. They offer a little extra protection against prickly weeds like thistles while staying usable when working with damp plant material.

Keeping everything together means it’s very easy to simply pick up the bucket and begin.

The key here is that different weeds require different strategies.

No matter what you’re removing, the goal of weeding is usually the same. You’re trying to remove the entire plant, including the root.

When starting out weeding, many people often begin by trying to pull the weed out by force.

Instead, loosen the soil first.

If the soil lets go of the weed, the whole plant usually comes out very easily.

The first group of weeds have deep taproots.

Dandelions, Queen Anne’s lace, and many thistles all grow a long, carrot shaped root straight down into the soil.

For these, I almost always reach for my Hori Hori knife.

I place the blade about half an inch away from the root and push it straight down into the soil. Then I lever the handle gently towards myself and down, lifting the surrounding soil just enough to loosen it.

I’m not trying to cut the root.

I’m trying to loosen the soil around it.

Once the soil lets go of the weed, the whole plant usually comes out very easily.

The second group are weeds with spreading or fibrous root systems.

Crabgrass and creeping Charlie are good examples.

For these, I use my Ho Mi hand hoe.

The pointed tip lets me work into very small spaces, whether that’s between flagstones or around other plants. The pointed tip can just kind of grab at the roots. I work it into the soil before pulling it back towards myself to loosen everything.

The ho-mi cand very fine detail work. It can also act as a miniature pick-axe and do some heavier digging. Most helpful is that it’s comfortable enough to use for long periods, the down and pull action is naturally ergonomic.

Again, the goal while weeding isn’t to fight the weed.

It’s simply to loosen the soil so the plant can be removed.

There are a few weeds where removing the entire root system simply isn’t possible.

Field bindweed and many thistles spread through underground rhizomes. Unless you’re excavating the entire area, some of that root system will remain.

In those cases, the strategy changes.

Instead of removing every root, you’re trying to exhaust the plant.

Whenever new growth appears, pull it again. Each time the plant sends up new shoots, it uses stored energy from the remaining root system. If you remove that growth before it can replenish itself, eventually the root system weakens.

I worked on one garden with a heavy thistle infestation. It took about three years, but simply removing the new shoots every time they appeared eventually exhausted the plants. This year, none grew back.

So, while weeding, there are two things to remember.

Don’t let weeds go to seed.

And if they regrow from underground roots, keep removing the new growth until the plant runs out of energy.

Once the weeds are out, most of them can simply go into the compost.

If you have a compost pile, there’s very little reason to throw weeds into the garbage. They’ve gathered nutrients from your own garden, and compost simply returns those nutrients back to the soil.

If you don’t compost at home, municipal yard waste collection is usually the next best option. Many municipalities turn that material into compost that can later be used in parks, gardens, and landscaping. In some places you can even bring that compost back home to use in your own garden. It may not be quite as clean as homemade compost, so it’s better suited for ornamental rather than edible garden beds, but it’s a good way to keep those nutrients cycling.

There are a few exceptions.

Very invasive weeds or weeds that spread particularly easily are sometimes better handled separately, depending on how your municipality processes yard waste. Japanese knotweed is one example. Cleavers are another that some gardeners prefer not to compost.

Sometimes I’ll leave those weeds in a yard waste bag, or even a black garbage bag, for a few weeks so they completely die before disposing of them. During the summer, the heat inside the bag often does the work for you. You just want to make sure they’re really dead, and their seeds no longer viable, before adding them to any compost, at home or otherwise. Truly invasive weeds can destroy entire gardens, and even ecosystems, so caution is essential.

Some dry weeds can also be burned if you have a fire pit.

One important exception is poison ivy. Never burn poison ivy. The oils responsible for the rash become airborne in the smoke and can cause a much more serious pulmonary reaction.

Some weeds deserve an entirely different conversation.

Plants like Japanese knotweed and phragmites are true invasive species. Managing them often involves repeated mowing, solarization, grazing, or in some situations even systemic herbicides. There are good discussions to be had about all of those approaches, and about when they may or may not be appropriate, but they’re beyond the scope of this post.

Here, we’re simply talking about the regular maintenance of an average home garden.

For many people, weeding is one of the jobs they dread most.

For me, it’s often one of the most enjoyable.

Usually it means I have a quiet hour to myself. I’ll put on a podcast, start in one corner of the garden, and simply follow the line.

Sometimes the line is the edge of a planting bed.

Sometimes it’s the edge of the lawn.

Whatever line the garden gives me, I simply keep following it until the garden is weeded, or I run out of time for the day.

There’s something deeply meditative about it. Almost like walking a preset labyrinth.

I keep my weeding bucket packed and ready to go. It makes it very easy to pick it up, step into the garden, and simply begin.

About names, plant strategies and the benefits of rain.

It’s the third day of wildfire smoke from the northern Ontario fires. The air quality isn’t good, and it’s currently not recommended to spend much time outdoors.

I still found myself thinking about weeding.

Not necessarily today. If we’re lucky, perhaps it’ll rain over the weekend. Rain makes pulling weeds much easier. Moist soil releases roots more readily, and many weeds come out with far less effort than they do after a stretch of dry weather.

Besides, weeding is one of those jobs that’s always waiting. It doesn’t really belong to a single week or even a single season. Every garden has weeds, and every gardener eventually develops their own relationship with them.

I enjoy weeding for many reasons.

One of them is that it lets me touch the entire garden. When I’m weeding, I end up in every corner, noticing details that I would never see by simply walking through. It slows gardening down to every square foot.

I also enjoy it because having an afternoon to weed usually means the other seasonal jobs are either finished or postponed because of the weather. If it’s especially hot, I can work in the shade. If it’s raining lightly, I can put on a raincoat, grab a bucket, and continue. It becomes a quiet task, one you can do alone, or alongside someone else while carrying on a small conversation.

Weeding asks for attention, but not urgency.

Over time I’ve also come to see that weeds tell you something about a garden. Different gardens produce different weeds. Soil, moisture, sunlight, disturbance, and even neighbourhood all influence what appears. Learning your weeds is another way of learning your garden.

That naturally raises another question.

What is a weed?

The word itself carries a negative meaning, but that meaning is largely a human one. A weed is not a particular kind of plant. It is a judgment.

To me, a weed is simply a plant that is not wanted in a particular spot.

That makes weeds entirely dependent on the gardener.

The same plant can be a weed in one place and welcome in another.

If a lavender seeds itself into an empty sunny bed where I wanted another lavender anyway, I consider it a volunteer. It arrived on its own, but I am happy to keep it.

If that same seedling appears in the middle of a carefully spaced geometric planting where there is no room for another plant, then it has become a weed.

The plant hasn’t changed.

The location has.

Sometimes I transplant that volunteer elsewhere. Sometimes, if there are twenty of them and nowhere to put them, they go into the compost. We often first ask, “What plant is this?”

When weeding however, the first question often is, “Do I want this plant here?”

There are, however, plants that are genuinely weedy.

To me, those are plants whose growth strategy is so aggressive that they begin overwhelming everything around them. Some spread rapidly by seed. Others spread by rhizomes, making them difficult to remove completely.

Phragmites and Japanese knotweed are good examples. Their extensive root systems allow them to spread quickly while displacing nearly everything else growing nearby. If you’ve driven along Ontario highways, you’ve probably seen large stands of tall bluish grass with feathery plumes towering above everything around them. That is often non-native phragmites. Notice that very little else grows within those patches.

Other weeds, like creeping bellflower, may not be nearly as tall, but they spread readily and return from even small pieces of root left behind.

On the other hand, not every weed is difficult. Some self seed freely but pull out with almost no effort. They create regular work, but they don’t wage a long term battle against the gardener.

Even weeds have different strategies.

Some appear only during certain parts of the season. Right now, for example, we’re in the middle of crabgrass season. A month ago there was almost none to be found.

Perhaps that’s one of the reasons I enjoy weeding so much.

It isn’t simply removing unwanted plants.

It’s a quiet process of observation and selection.

Looking at everything growing in the garden, one plant at a time, and deciding what stays.