Election Section

You’ve found it! You’ve signed on the line, committed a scary amount of money and time, got your own piece of ground, a roof of your own over your own head, no landlord to answer to and the freedom to garden as you please. Congratulations! 

Since your first look at the place, you’ve been building some Eden in your imagination. Old roses like Grammy’s, new tropicals like the latest Garden Style, a riot of variegated foliage, a peaceful all-white, no, all-blue garden with a bench. A pergola!  

You’ll grow your own heirloom tomatoes and corn, spend autumn weekends making preserves. You’ll graft 10 varieties of peach and nectarine onto a single trunk. Maybe there’ll be room for a goat, and herbs for the goat cheese too. (Goats in Berkeley? Don’t laugh.) 

Don’t put a leash on your imagination yet, but give it a season or four to let it mesh with the reality of your new space. Plant annuals or winter veggies and watch what your dirt does with them, so you don’t feel guilty for taking your time.  

You have several things to consider before you make any big decisions.  

First, and don’t rush this: What do you want out of your garden? A playspace for kids, food, seasonings, medicinals, flowers to cut, a quiet outdoor room, habitat, screening, climate control? You might have to choose, but you might not have to choose only one.  

What’s there already? Lots of lots are overplanted; people love their living stuff and can’t bear to give it the axe. Wait before commencing wholesale slaughter. It’s winter! If you’re not absolutely sure of what every plant is (and experts are most likely to be humble about this) give it a year to show its stuff. I’ve heard horror stories about newcomers who helpfully had the bare conifer cut down before learning it was a deciduous dawn redwood, and an historic specimen planted from the first seeds of this “living fossil” brought from China.  

If you know it’s going to be a jungle, don’t attack it with the hedgetrimmer, because that will only make it worse when it grows back. Go up to Merritt College or browse local nurseries for basic pruning lessons, like how to turn a juniper ball into a small tree with character. Or hire a real arborist, not the mow-n-blow guys.  

Check out the neighbors’ gardens. What grows well there? Talk to them; they might know why. Maybe you’re in a banana belt, or maybe there’s an underground creek on the block. They can give you hints about where stormwater runs, what happens when it’s windy, and who that critter was rattling the bins last night.  

Give yourself a year—really!—to watch for patterns and possibilities, to see what you want to do outside daily, to get to know your place.  

Next week, I’ll give you some seat-of-the-pants (literally) tests you can use to figure out how to get what you want out of a new garden. Stay tuned.