Some large part of gardening is about control. Many of us obsessive gardeners look at a space and imagine what we want to plant there; we dream about how it will look after we’ve worked with it for a few years. We wander through a plant sale or nursery and choose plants in much the same way that we select delicious looking fruits at the grocery.

My garden is largely out of my control these days. As I’ve relaxed my grip, nature has stepped up to fill the empty spaces where my plantings went awry with selections of her own. Why is it that nature planted selections seem to thrive while many of those I have planted flounder?

I planted the Lantana in the circular bed near our front patio years ago, expecting the Lantana to die over the winter. The bed had annuals and a bird bath when we came to the property. I also planted annuals our first few years, but some of those ‘annual’ Lantana proved hardy enough to sink in their roots and expand. They crowded out the Irises I planted around year 5, but welcomed the stray Hibiscus seeds that took root and bloom every year in early summer.

When I first noticed the holly tree growing up around the bird bath, I cut it back ruthlessly. Same with the volunteer beautyberry. But somehow that holly tree has hung on, tenaciously, and now towers over the entire planting. Last year it sported red berries for the first time ever, which tells me it is a female tree and will offer up red berries for Christmas every year going forwards.

I let the volunteer morning glory vines grow and bloom for a year or two as a novelty. But of course, every dropped seed sprouts now. By the time I see them snaking through the Lantana flowers in mid-summer it seems a shame to yank them out. The flowers are very pretty, and the annual vines do no real harm since the Lantana must be cut back hard each spring, anyway. There are just more seeds for the birds to find all winter.

There is a beautiful English rose bush under all of that Lantana. It has also hung on, like the beautyberry, and perks up once we cut back the Lantana each spring. It isn’t exactly the way a rose should be cultivated, but without the Lantana the deer take care of pruning what is left of it. At least we get a rosebud or two each May by letting the Lantana surround it.

The crape myrtle, blooming now in vibrant pink, is also a volunteer. I found it growing up through the border when it was about a foot high and chose to leave it be. It was growing near a young Japanese maple tree when I first began to explore our new yard, more than 15 years ago, now. Both have grown in nicely, but compete with the other woodies for space. Lately, a young oak tree has grown up near the crape myrtle and I’ll have to choose to remove it, or let it shade out the crape myrtle entirely. But oaks are much better for the ecological economy of this space, so I’ll probably just let it grow.

I wondered what would happen this year when I drastically cut back on buying plants. I wondered whether the garden would feel empty and bare, or if I would feel disappointed to not do all of the spring planting I’ve been accustomed to doing. All in all, things have worked out fine. The new ferns all are vibrant and growing steadily. The mail-order herbs I planted have thrived, and have been much less likely to get grazed than the few flowering annuals I purchased locally in April. Both scarlet zonal geraniums became deer snacks. The only flowering plants still thriving are those in hanging baskets, out of reach.

Those intentional, ornamental plants that are surviving this summer mostly grow in containers. Aroids always perform well here, poisonous, humidity lovers that they are. Herbs survive, too. Around these containers grow a mixture of ivy and mint. Both have a mind of their own, vining their way wherever they can. I still cut them back rather ruthlessly several times each season. I planted the mint early on, and it has taken over directing its own spread.

Nature keeps giving us abundant growth, like a horticultural fairy godmother. We have been blessed with regular rain this summer, which helps. A very hot July has given way to a more moderate August. But I’m still trying to get all of the watering, weeding, trimming, and planning completed before the heat of the day sets in each morning. And we are almost giddy to realize that soon it will be ‘second spring,’ as we enjoy cooler, drier weather from September through late fall. Every few weeks the garden changes again, it seems. And we always believe that the best is yet to come.

With appreciation to Jim Stephens of Garden Ruminations, who

hosts Six on Saturday each week.