Home Alone
When Summer Vacations Take You Far from the Borders

I once had a dog into whose soulful brown eyes I had but to glance and I would double over with self-reproach each time I left the house, say, to go shopping. Far more punishing (after I became a mom) was my remorse whenever I thrust my sobbing infant into the arms of a child-minder so that I might meet a chum for a jolly lunch. Returning home, I would be awash with anxiety, certain that some horrifying calamity (house burns down, search for survivors continues, film at 11:00) had befallen my loved ones while I was blithely playing truant. Did this gut-wrenching guilt, these harrowing fantasies of doom, ever keep me from leaving? Naw.     

But leave my garden? For a fortnight’s vacation? During the height of summer, when the borders are heavy with blooms, nefarious weeds lurk everywhere, and the weather report predicts an extended heat wave? Out of the question. To abandon the garden when it needed me most was to commit horticide, for which I could never forgive myself. I was steward of a floral family and as such, indispensable; no one could possibly protect, nourish, and groom the garden as assiduously as I. Vacations in July and August were for other people.       

Most garden junkies are similarly loathe to leave the homestead between June and Labor Day, especially city folk who can only dig in the dirt at their country dwellings on weekends. Summer is the very time when the majority of parents are able to spend quality time with their school-age kids. It follows that people whose careers demand ten-hour workdays and/or hellish commutes especially need, and insist upon taking, a week or two to refuel—elsewhere, in the sunshine, even if this causes the ardent gardening partner to go to pieces. (NB: I became a hort freak after my kid left the nest; my husband is happiest on a local tennis court; for me, summer “hols” are a non-starter.) 

What to do, then, when the zenith of the growing season coincides with vacation possibilities and you have no choice but to take off? The following are guidelines—suitable for locals and weekenders alike—on how to preserve the garden and, one hopes, the gardener’s sanity.

Xeriscaping. The best insurance against death-by-dehydration is to install drought-resistant plants, such as Rudbeckia, Lavender, Echinops, Baptisia, Sedum, Miscanthus, Mint, Coreopsis, Yarrow, Russian Sage, and Salvia. Assuming these rugged plants are well-established—that is, have been at least two years in the ground—their root systems allow them to survive for a spell without irrigation.

Weed Control. The trick here is to plan early in the season by applying pre-emergent weed preventers such as Preen (this will dispatch weeds that haven’t rooted, but will do bubkes for established weeds, every millimeter of which—especially those with tap roots, such as dandelions—you must remove or they’ll re-grow). Next, spread a 3- to 4-inch layer of mulch in the borders, which will prevent most weeds from seeing a speck of sunshine, hence, unable to thrive. Weeds, it must be stressed, especially broad-leafed bullies, are the bane of the border, depriving more refined plants of soil nutrients and moisture. Nuke ’em.

Deadheading. This is where things can get really dicey. Sure, your offer of fresh-cut blooms may entice your neighbor to do your pruning dirty work; then again, said neighbor might accidentally cut off too much, causing the plant to die back. Better you should prune perennials yourself, removing as much as half the top growth; most plants will reward you with new growth. You may sacrifice some fall blooms, but that’s horseracing. To reduce this risk, carefully deadhead flowers and pinch back buds the day before you vamoose. (Some sickos, and that would include me, do this at night, wearing a miner’s light.)

Grouping Drought-intolerant Plants Together. If you cannot bear a perennial garden without such guzzlers as Hydrangea, Monkshood, and Turtlehead, you might put them in one discrete area and ask whoever cuts your lawn to take a moment to toss agua their way. As for container plants, gather them in one spot, out of the sun, water deeply prior to departure (if you cannot get someone to irrigate them), and cross your fingers.

Securing Garden Gates and Deer Fences. Want to hear a horror story? How’s this: I have a friend who had broken her bones preparing her garden for a summer garden tour. The night before, her husband accidentally left the driveway gate open and deer invaded. Moral: If you have deer fencing with gates, make sure the gates are firmly closed, even if you need to wind wire around the latches; I once failed to do this, a storm blew the gates open, and I woke to find Bambi about to partake of my hosta (I ran her off). Rabbit fencing—through which, yes, rabbits can actually bite if the material is too skimpy—may need to be reinforced. Check the perimeters of your property for evidence of gopher holes, and stuff rocks into them. The fences are your fortress; you must fortify them.

Applying Deer and Rodent Repellant. If, however, you are fenceless, you can race around the borders scattering hot chili pepper, or rabbit repellent, on your most vulnerable (read: animal bait) plants. Ditto for deer repellents; your plants are probably due for a re-spraying in any case.

Throw Money at the Situation. A best-case scenario is to hire a house-sitter or student willing to do part-time gardening; leave detailed written garden instructions (see above), and hope for the best. Or, find a bona fide master gardener or landscape worker. It’ll cost you, but it will go a long way toward maintaining the garden for the duration.

Get a Grip. In the scheme of things, families and partners come ahead of everything else, whereas your garden, despite your best efforts, may be the worse for wear in your absence. This is not the end of the world. Plants can always be replaced; stuff dies, even if you’re on the case. So lighten up and enjoy your vacation. (Easy for me to say. My one-acre garden, which devoured every waking moment of my summers for 15 years, is someone else’s now. At last my husband and I can take worry-free vacations; in September we’re going to Europe to drool over other people’s gardens.)

By Victoria Secunda