"I shall soon be
rested," said Fanny; "to
sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon verdure is the most perfect
refreshment."
— Jane
Austen's Mansfield Park
Gardening
in Chicago requires one to come to terms with shade. And shade in Chicago means
hostas.
I'm not
sure what this green-and-white variety of hosta is called, possibly 'Kenzie' or
'Earth angel,' but it might as well be called hosta 'Chicago.' This is the
shade plant of choice on narrow, tree-lined streets and in the slivers of
garden beds tucked between houses standing just a few feet apart.
The
ubiquity of hosta 'Chicago' is a wee bit tiresome. And the hosta hedge — the
crowded straight line of hostas — doesn't do anything for me. But I completely
understand the appeal, because not only do they favor shade, but also they propagate
quickly and tolerate a great deal of neglect.
When we
bought our house, the side garden had nothing but lots of hosta 'Chicago.' So I've
been learning how to live with them. As I've added things to this garden, I've
used it as the hosta nursery for the rest of the shady places.
A few
years ago, I read an article in Fine
Gardening in which the author recommended that hostas look best when you
plant a mix of sizes and colors. I'm not sure why I didn't figure that out
myself. Anyway, I finally bought a variety with large, heavy, solid green leaves.
My real
find, however, was a blue variety. I bought three plants at an annual plant sale
held by a local garden club to support the volunteer gardening program at nearby
Indian Boundary Park, which we love and frequent.
This is
the third season of dividing and shuffling the new hostas about. In the front
garden, they are mixed with ferns, astilbe, and a dwarf red-twig dogwood shrub.
And for
the first time this spring, I moved some of these varieties into the hosta
nursery in the side garden. The hostas on the side are mixed with ferns,
bleeding hearts, and painter's pallet.
Of
course, this now means I am well on my way down the garden path of always needing
more hostas . I'm thinking 'Blue Mouse Ears' and 'White Feathers,' both of
which look pretty much as they sound.
And now a confession: One might
conclude from the quotation that I love Mansfield Park, but
it's not so — and not for a lack of trying. I read it the first time in grad
school during the quarter from hell. Thinking that quarter might have clouded
my judgment, I read it again a few years later. Meh.
After reading a biography
of Jane Austen, I decided I should read it one more time. I think I simply
prefer my Austen heroines a bit more flawed than Fanny Price. But I do welcome
her appreciation of verdure.