As I was putting together plans for this year’s garden, it again struck me how similar my role is to that of a baseball manager. I evaluate talent, weigh conflicting needs and interactions between players and yank underperformers, with the goal of putting the best horticultural team on the field - or rather, in the field.
My version of the roster began to take shape in the early 2000s, with lists of projected players to be (mostly) started from seed, separated into 1) annuals/temperennials, 2) hardy perennials, and 3) vegetables.
As with a major league baseball team, there are a lot of hopefuls penciled in before the season. Attrition inevitably occurs, due to lack of germination or failure to thrive once seedlings emerge. Space constraints means that some prospects are relegated to pots and holding areas (the equivalent of the horticultural minor leagues). Inevitably, some starters don’t pan out or go on the disabled list due to munching by rodenty mammals or insects, falling prey to disease and bad weather etc., so it’s valuable to have healthy minor league replacements.
There are considerable advantages to being a manager/chief of garden operations as opposed to the equivalent positions in major league baseball. I don’t have to deal with querulous fans. My long-suffering spouse may make suggestions, but doesn’t complain on social media or threaten to boycott the garden. There’s no hassle with player gripes or having to contemplate signing top cannas or asters to long-term extensions. And I’m not really competing with the neighbors for a championship, seeing that their gardening interests seem to mostly involve low-maintenance foundation shrubs.
In recent years, our plant roster has begun to shift from a heavy emphasis on annuals and frost-tender temperennials to one balanced with increasing numbers of hardy perennials. The latter require maintenance such as mulching, trimming and dividing, but require less labor overall. And it’s pleasing to have a core of reliable veterans on hand, even if most will never make it into the Horticultural Hall of Fame.
So far, the 2023 ornamental list is light on annuals/temperennials. Cannas will definitely be back, including “Tropicanna Black” with its purple foliage and hot scarlet flowers and dwarf red “Cannova”s. There’s an “old-fashioned climbing petunia”, which doesn’t really twine but sprawls or can be trained up a trellis. Flowers are small in shades of white, pink and purple, with a major added bonus of being highly fragrant after sunset. Camellia-flowered Impatiens balsamina were nice enough last year that they may return in ‘23; the only flaw with these old-time favorites was a need for staking.
Perennial prospects from seed include Phlox paniculata, requiring cold stratification already underway. My hope is to regenerate a population of “wild-type” pink Phlox, which reseeded itself around my Ohio garden and could be counted on to supply fragrance and good cut flowers. Others that may crack the lineup are Sedum “Emperor’s Waves”, Campanula latifolia v. macrantha, a couple of Veronicas (V. porphyriana and V. longifolia), two ornamental grasses (Sorghastrum “Indian Steel” and Eragrostis spectabilis) and a return engagement of Delphinium "Connecticut Yankees". This delphinium is shorter than the hangers-on at King Arthur’s Court (referring to a popular but temperamental hybrid series), but has more perennial staying power.
Vegetable players will again be drawn heavily from the ranks of eggplant, peppers and above all, tomatoes, as the quest for maximal taste goes on.
Let the season begin!