I tended to a wisteria in Buckinghamshire, England.  It's owner had a chaos in her garden that I at least enjoyed.   The Wisteria was wizened and dictatorial, threatening the total conquest of the south east corner.  She called it "that bugger there."

   Beneath her wisteria was a wooden structure that once had been a garden shed.  She had "hacked back", a strategy that seemed only to have encouraged it, and it was now time for an "ultimate solution," because the neighbors were complaining.

    I made the mistake of suggesting that perhaps I should remove it.  She looked at me as though I was barbarian.  The plant simply needed training.  

    And this is why jobbing gardeners mostly hate garden magazines.  An emotion which, incidentally, lingers.  Pictures of the perfect plant are like pictures of the perfect cheeseburger, and my employer had seen pictures of what Wisteria is capable of.

    Here in Kentucky we wait for our wisteria to bloom.  Generally there is a late frost, but this year qualifies as a maybe.

Previous  Next