a favorite poem to mark passings in the garden

I DIDN’T PROPERLY MARK THE PASSING of the great gardener Geoffrey Charlesworth in the spring of 2008, who in the late 1980s wrote a book I particularly treasure called “The Opinionated Gardener,” (No, it’s not a biography of me; Charlesworth, to his great credit, was even more so, and vastly more expert.)

His garden was not so far away from where I live, and were he here to welcome spring this year, I suspect that he, too, would be hoping for the best while poking about in the dirt as he cleaned up the beds.

Every spring since then, in memory of Geoffrey Charlesworth, and of all the garden’s great creatures who haven’t made it to the newest season, I make a tradition of sharing a poem of his: “Why Did My Plant Die?”

Why Did My Plant Die?

Geoffrey B. Charlesworth
You walked too close. You trod on it.
You dropped a piece of sod on it.
You hoed it down. You weeded it.
You planted it the wrong way up.
You grew it in a yogurt cup
But you forgot to make a hole;
The soggy compost took its toll.
September storm. November drought.
It heaved in March, the roots popped out.
You watered it with herbicide.
You scattered bonemeal far and wide.
Attracting local omnivores,
Who ate your plant and stayed for more.
You left it baking in the sun
While you departed at a run
To find a spade, perhaps a trowel,
Meanwhile the plant threw in the towel.
You planted it with crown too high;
The soil washed off, that explains why.
Too high pH. It hated lime.
Alas it needs a gentler clime.
You left the root ball wrapped in plastic.
You broke the roots. They’re not elastic.
You walked too close. You trod on it.
You dropped a piece of sod on it.
You splashed the plant with mower oil.
You should do something to your soil.
Too rich. Too poor. Such wretched tilth.
Your soil is clay. Your soil is filth.
Your plant was eaten by a slug.
The growing point contained a bug.
These aphids are controlled by ants,
Who milk the juice, it kills the plants.
In early spring your garden’s mud.
You walked around! That’s not much good.
With heat and light you hurried it.
You worried it. You buried it.
The poor plant missed the mountain air:
No heat, no summer muggs up there.
You overfed it 10-10-10.
Forgot to water it again.
You hit it sharply with the hose.
You used a can without a rose.
Perhaps you sprinkled from above.
You should have talked to it with love.
The nursery mailed it without roots.
You killed it with those gardening boots.
You walked too close. You trod on it.
You dropped a piece of sod on it.

more about geoffrey charlesworth

‘WHY DID MY PLANT DIE?’ is just one piece of the wisdom in Geoffrey Charlesworth’s book “The Opinionated Gardener: Random Offshoots From an Alpine Garden,” a collectible must for every gardener’s bookshelf.

A professor of mathematics educated at Cambridge, after a youth in Yorkshire, England, Charlesworth was a mainstay of the North American Rock Garden Society.  With his life partner of nearly 60 years, the late Norman Singer; they founded the local Berkshire (Massachusetts) Chapter of NARGS. They met in England, during World War II, while each in their respective nation’s military, and later chose Norman’s homeland as their own. I was honored to have had the chance to meet them both a time or two, and to visit the garden that they made together. I think of Charlesworth’s poem each spring as I have for 20 years or so, and particularly after a hard winter Thank you, Geoffrey Charlesworth, for all the good teachings left behind.

(Photograph of Geoffrey Charlesworth by Pam Johnson, from the NARGS website. Top photo by Kit Latham, from my book “A Way to Garden.”)

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