I have bad news and good news. The bad news is there’s a fungus among us. Impatiens downy mildew (Plasmopara obducens), the mysterious ailment that denuded and killed almost every busy Lizzie (Impatiens walleriana) back in July or August of last year, is here to stay. It’s in our soil now and unlike other downy mildews that attack other species of plants, this one is happy to overwinter here in the soil. Add to that, our native woodland wildflower and poison ivy remedy, jewelweed (Impatiens capensis), obligingly harbors it without dying or even becoming particularly disfigured by it.

This coming summer impatiens downy mildew will spread by spores that germinate in humid conditions, just as it did last year. Four hours of standing water (a sprinkler system or a good soaking rain) is all it needs to move from soil to plant where it then becomes airborne. And there is no fungicide that will control it once lesions form on the leaves. Despite that, some growers are determined to keep selling the species that has been their bread and butter ever since petunias fell from favor. But their impatiens will have to be pumped full of expensive systemic fungicide in order to ensure a mere six weeks of immunity in your garden. It’s a heavy price to pay for what has been one of the least expensive and longest blooming bedding plants. Expect that cost to be passed along. Other growers are boldly refusing to propagate an ill-fated best seller and will be offering healthy and more sustainable alternatives instead. And meanwhile, breeders are working to create downy-mildew-resistant impatiens. But don’t hold your breath. They’re still years away.

The good news is it’s time for a change. Monocultures of impatiens have been planted in industrial parks, corporate and private landscapes, urban and suburban yards for quite long enough. In fact, being planted so exclusively and densely sped their demise, first in the UK back in 2003, then in greenhouses, Florida, up the Eastern Seaboard, and all the way across the more humid portions of the country in the last couple of years. And I, for one, am looking forward to seeing a little more variety in yards, gardens, and landscapes in the years to come. But then, I have never been impatiens’ biggest fan.

I understand that a flat of Impatiens walleriana was wicked cheap to buy. But didn’t those starts need water and fertilizer all summer long? I understand that, if given those things, impatiens bloomed non-stop, and in the shade no less. But did you ever see a bee work the blossoms? And didn’t you get a little bored with them by August? I have never planted them in my own garden and we don’t use them at Blithewold because—and this, really, is the good news—there are so many other gorgeous plants in the world. Some are just as, if not more, colorful; a few might bring out the gardener in non-gardeners; others will be much easier to care for. That’s the truth.

My advice to hardcore impatiens devotees: If you can’t live without them, try them in hanging baskets. And for your garden beds, rather than choosing one alternative stand-in from a long list of shade-loving bedding annuals that includes (and is by no means limited to) New Guinea impatiens (those noisy cousins are immune), begonias, torenia, lobelia, coleus, browallia, oxalis, and nicotiana, plant a kaleidoscope. Variety isn’t just the spice of life, it’s more sustainable. Celebrate all the months of summer — and treat yourself to late season surprises too — by planting tender perennials like spurflower (Plectranthus ciliatus) and fuchsias that bloom into fall and can even be overwintered indoors. And then why not add in a few perennials with fabulous foliage like heuchera, hosta, lady’s mantle, brunnera, pulmonaria, and lamium? Nowadays they don’t cost much more than annuals and, more often than not, live to brighten your beds and borders for years. Please don’t just take my word for it. Ask at your favorite local nursery for suggestions. (No doubt, they will be more sympathetic than I.) And take the good news over the bad.

Apologies to any of you who might have already read this. — It was first published last week by East Bay, RI and South Coast, MA newspapers for my column, Down to Earth.

You might (or might not) remember that a year and a half ago, a few members of Blithewold’s staff were invited to be in Martha Stewart’s Gardening Show studio audience. It was a hoot to sit in those bleachers watching the goings on of (part of) an empire and I have little memory anymore of what it felt like to drive to NYC in the wee hours of a should-be-sleeping-in morning. But I do still have some of the swag she gave away. By far the best thing in the tubtrug full of stuff was a book by her (magazine’s) gardening editorial director. Tomorrow’s Garden: Design and Inspiration for a New Age of Sustainable Gardening by Stephen Orr is full of gorgeous photos (taken by Orr) of inspiring modern gardens all over the country that illustrate a full spectrum of garden-with-nature possibilities. Along with telling his own garden’s story, he interviewed the other gardens’ gardeners on how their designs were created and maintained. And it’s generously peppered with plant lists and tips. The only beef I have with the book is that so many of the designs and ideas appeal to me that I’m no closer to deciding what to do in my own garden.

But it’s time for another look through it because this the time of year, when the season’s successes and problems are still fresh in my mind, is when I do my best thinking about garden design. Just this week, even in the soggy aftermath of the storm, Gail and I worked on a new vision for the moongate bed under the Sophora outside of the Rose Garden. That bed, which is our best example of dry shady conditions, has grown so well it had finally become almost overgrown. The plants we chose for that garden, things like epimedium, liriope, ginger, carex, hosta and tricyrtis, almost all going on 5 years old now, have proven themselves easily sustainable, with minimal supplemental watering during drought, and were finally in need of redistribution to (re)create a more aesthetically pleasing design. Since this is the best time to move epimedium (because it blooms so early in spring) and because this is when our brains are ready for that sort of exercise, we spent yesterday playing musical perennials. (Now that I’ve had a little practice again, I might be ready to make some decisions at home…)

If you are raring for inspiration the way I always am right about now, I say buy the book. –But wouldn’t it be even better to meet the author and hear his freshest thoughts on the subject? I’m so excited that Stephen Orr will be speaking at Blithewold’s annual Garden Design Luncheon next Thursday, November 8, 10am-2pm. A few (a very few) tickets are still available so register here asap. (Our fingers are crossed that his books will arrive in time from storm ravaged New York… If you already have a copy, bring it with you for him to sign.)

Our Tuesday volunteer group has been known for years — for ever? — as the “Deadheads” because they work in the Display Garden and traditionally, the biggest summer chore in these gardens has been to deadhead flowers to keep them from quitting and going to seed. While we still ask for help deadheading the annuals in the cutting garden to keep them blooming gangbusters, in recent years we have not deadheaded the other beds as rigorously. Now when the Deadheads ask if we want echinacea deadheaded in the pollinator bed we say, “No… let’s leave their seeds for the birds.” And when they ask if they should deadhead the betony, beebalm, cardoon, teasel, and eryngium, we say, “Nah, don’t those look cool?! Let’s leave them up for the winter.” Perhaps the Tuesday group needs a new name…

I know the betony (Stachys monnieri ‘Hummelo’) wouldn’t have bloomed again because we cut a couple of clumps back last year as a test, but the beebalm (Monarda fistulosa ‘Claire Grace’) might have rebloomed, and there are still buds opening along the echinacea stems. But right now I wouldn’t trade any of those seedheads for their flowers. Not only are they beautiful (in the eye of this beholder) but there is more wildlife activity in that garden than I ever remember seeing before. It’s positively mesmerizing – I’ve been so distracted that visitors have caught me gawping instead of working. Goldfinch, wrens, and sparrows are all vying for seeds and hummingbirds, bees and butterflies are still zinging around working all of the flowers that aren’t ready to go to seed yet.

But there’s a fine line between letting the garden go to seed and letting the garden go. Some gardeners and visitors might think the cardoon seedheads look more like the undead than the simply un-deadheaded. And I imagine that it might make some people nervous to watch them self-destruct and send helicopters wheeling on the wind to float with the butterflies and catch in the grass and on bare patches of soil. But that doesn’t make me nervous. As long as the stalks are still standing upright, surrounded by a colorful garden that looks tended (it’s been meticulously weeded and propped, if not deadheaded) rather than abandoned, and the birds are happy, then I figure we gardeners are as golden as the light that falls this time of year.

Do you deadhead everything up until the bitter end or do you leave seedheads standing for their looks and for the birds? Have you found a happy medium? (Have we? – All opinions welcome!)

I’ve gotten a couple of questions in the last week or two about what we do in the gardens to manage pests and diseases. Although a lot of you already know the answer, I don’t seem to mind repeating it for anyone who doesn’t. The short answer is: Nothing! We do not use any kind of chemical pesticides or fungicides for the sake of our own health as well as that of our volunteers, visitors, members, camp kids, pollinators, beneficial insects, birds and other wildlife. (That said, I believe Dan has sprayed some sort of bunny deterring pepper concoction in the Vegetable Garden. Not that it has worked. Also, the trees, shrubs, and lawns are managed differently.)

The long answer is: In the gardens, we try to keep plants healthy and stress-free by providing them with fertile soil (easy because the soil here is lovely) and adequate water. We amend the soil with compost, both our own and the biosolid and yardwaste mix (top grade and certified pathogen-free) made by Bristol’s composting facility, and we mulch with shredded leaves and buckwheat hulls, both of which add organic matter and aerate the soil as they break down.

We welcome insects, and the birds that eat them. We do minimal clean-up of seedheads and stalks in the fall to leave some habitat and cover for birds and insects over the winter. We have even started construction on an insect apartment house. (They’re all the rage in Europe.) It’s made of white oak, faces south for winter warmth, and we will continue to fill it with bits and bobs that that will provide nesting sites for solitary bees, lacewings, spiders, and any other critters that might find it cozy. The section with the slots is intended as a butterfly shelter but I read recently that they don’t really use those. Looks cool though.

It’s the visitors to our Rose Garden who have the hardest time believing that we don’t spray fungicides, etc. Honestly, we don’t need to. I know I’ve said this a million times already but here it is again: along with choosing disease-resistant roses, and giving them great soil and adequate water (about an inch per week), we also fertilize them 3 times over the season (in April as they break, in May/June just before peak, and in August for their last flush) using a slow release organic granular fertilizer (Espoma Bulb-Tone); we rake out the spotty leaves twice weekly; and we hand-pick Japanese beetles. But the real reason the roses look healthy is because there are other beautifully blooming plants in that garden that draw everyone’s attention away from a few yellow or lacy leaves.

In the gardens, we live and let live. Don’t you?

I have heard that there are gardeners in the world who don’t love roses and I think I can almost understand why. For starters, they’re pretty common and might not appeal to gardeners who prefer oddities and rarities. To that I’ll just show one of my annual portraits of Rosa chinensis ‘Viridiflora’ (below left). That plant definitely satisfies my lust for the weird. There are even roses for gardeners who prefer native plants to exotic ones. (Alas I have no picture of R. virginiana because we don’t have that yet.)

I know some gardeners don’t like roses because they’re high maintenance. No argument there unless you consider a rose like redleaf rose (Rosa rubrifolia/R. glauca – above right), which only needs to be cut back hard in early spring and then left alone to bloom once and make gorgeous orange hips. But I happen to enjoy maintaining roses. There’s nothing like deadheading in June when the dropping petals are silky soft and full of perfume. I could spend whole days happily deadheading (and have the thorn scars to prove it). And I Zen out raking black-spotty leaves, which in recent years we haven’t had to do as much of because the roses are so healthy.

But I’ve come to the crux of it. Roses are notoriously sickly and difficult to keep healthy and pest-free without spraying toxic chemicals in all directions. Thank goodness most of us have become too health and environment-conscious to be willing to do that anymore. Rather than chuck all the roses, which isn’t an option in our book, we concentrated on making them healthier from the ground up. Our efforts (replacing sick roses with disease resistant varieties; compost for the healthy, fertile soil they require; 3 applications of organic fertilizer through the season as they break and bloom; and a generously donated irrigation system to keep them from drying out and becoming stressed and vulnerable to insects and disease) have paid off in non-stop blooms and deep-green leaves. We also think roses look their best when they’re used in a mixed garden, planted with a wide variety of companions. Packing them into a garden might not give them the airflow they like but they bloom away just as happily and other plants can help disguise any unhappy foliage and naked stems.

I wouldn’t want to try to convince anyone who doesn’t love roses to give them a chance but I can’t help thinking that for anyone on the fence, our Rose Garden presents an argument in their favor – living proof that they can be healthy, relatively easy to care for, and even a bit out of the ordinary. Do you like roses? Have you given up growing them or found a way to enjoy them?