It was with some sadness that I took out the hardy pampas grass that had reigned over the front yard for over 20 years.
This magnificent 10-foot tall fountain was once a centerpiece in my streetside garden, sort of an Old Faithful gone suburban. A curious UPS driver, then a Mary Kay lady, slammed on their brakes, ran up the driveway and knocked on the front door to ask what they were witnessing.
In its glory days, when the garden was new, the pampas grass was easily the largest specimen in the front yard, towering over waist-high trees and shrubs. It was also my husband’s favorite plant in the garden. Every spring he helped me cut it down, not an easy task (the sharp edges left us bloody and scarred). When we ran the cuttings through a chipper-shredder, the result was tiny particles as irritating to the skin as spun glass. By the time we finished, both of us looked as if we’d been trying to stuff cats into a pillowcase. Randy cursed but still declined my annual offer to remove the offender.
This past winter I was going through piles of gardening magazines when I came across a photo of a hardy pampas grass. The reality struck that mine no longer possessed one whit of its former beauty. The poor thing had grown straggly and stunted, overshadowed by a bur oak that had finally achieved small tree dimensions.
It hadn’t bloomed well in many years. The clump had died out in the center and in winter resembled a monk’s tonsure. At this point I could’ve rescued the grass by digging it up, pulling it apart, throwing out all of the dead bits and replanting the rest but I decided instead to give something new a try.
Twenty years ago, hardy pampas grass was daring and cutting-edge. Ornamental grasses were just starting to come into their heyday. Only a handful of varieties were widely grown and available for sale. Since then, ornamental grasses have exploded in popularity. Every garden center has dozens to choose from and new offerings each season. (For me last year’s hit was black witches’ broom, a stately annual grass with jet-black seedheads.)
We can get rusty brown or white, cream or yellow variegated sedges for shade. Or for a dry garden choose wispy Mexican feather grass or shimmering needle grass (Stipa capillata). For height there is handsome giant sacatoon grass (Sporobolus wrightii), a plains native that easily reaches 8 to 10 feet and is drought tolerant to boot. At 8-feet tall, plains native big bluestem or turkey foot (Andropogon gerardii) is no slacker either and it turns orange in autumn.
There are better places in my garden for all of these. I replaced my oversized grass with a shrub, which turned out to be a big improvement. A peony formerly in its shadow bloomed for the first time this spring.
The lesson? Any plant that is no longer an asset to the garden has got to go.
Garden writer and lecturer Marcia Tatroe’s most recent book is “Cutting Edge Gardening in the Intermountain West,” ($29.95, Johnson Books). E-mail her at rltaurora@aol.com.
