I stumbled across this otherworldly plant the other day in my garden. Well, actually I had to dig for it.
I suspected its existence because I saw a sort of mound rising in a spot where I had dumped a thick layer of leaves last fall. Sure enough, when I pushed the leaves aside, underneath was this
hosta plant, valiantly sprouting despite a total lack of sunlight. Without light, it had no chlorophyll, and had become blanched by pretty much the same method used to produce the white asparagus the Germans call
spargel. In Europe it's considered a delicacy.
Personally, I like my asparagus and my
hostas green. So I removed the leaves to let the plant bask in the sunlight. The layer was so heavy I was surprised that so many daffodils and other
hosta plants had managed to poke through it.
Now, I'm a great believer in fallen leaves as mulch, compost ingredient and soil amendment. Nothing comes closer, in an urban garden, to creating the conditions that are best for plants, and nothing builds soil better. I think it's a criminal waste to dispose of all that lovely biomass each autumn rather than putting it to work in my biosphere.
I collect leaves from my yard and as far as I can reach, dragging them on tarps to my garden when my neighbors are raking them to the curb to be trucked away. I compost as many as my bins can hold. I shred them and spread them in beds. I stash away a bunch more for later use.
But last fall, I had been so enthusiastic in my leaf collection that I amassed a huge pile that I hadn't gotten a chance to spread when the first big snowstorm hit. I tried to cover them with a tarp, but snow led to ice and a big frozen pile of leaves. Major snow cover most of the winter kept me from dispersing the pile.
When I got a chance in a warm snap I removed the tarp and spread the leaves around as much as I could. But it still left a layer of matted maple leaves several inches thick over a bed of
hostas, daffodils and lilies.
This spring, most of the plants have managed to poke through.
But I've had to help by removing handfuls of leaves wherever I saw a mound rising. That poor white
hosta, undetected, had managed by itself until it got pretty substantial.
Has this misadventure made me reconsider collecting leaves as mulch? Hardly. I still think there's nothing better for plants and soil. I am willing to stand the scorn of the unenlightened, such as the landscapers I have been interviewing for a lawn-mowing contract. To a man, they glance at my leaf-strewn beds and, unasked, give me a quote for "cleanup," to include removing the leaves and spreading mulch made of shredded wood trucked in from someplace else. No, that won't be necessary, I tell them. I put those leaves there on purpose and I intend to leave them until the fungi in the soil have dissolved them. They're far better than wood-chip mulch, I say. The landscapers look at me blankly and then shrug.
I will, however, be more careful about getting the leaves shredded and distributed promptly. I've always depended on the shredding vacuum on my electric blower-vac, since I don't have a power mower to run over piles of leaves. But I may have to prowl
Craigslist for a more serious shredder.
Even
unshredded, the thick leaves over and around the
hostas will eventually decay, thanks to those soil fungi, and release all their nutrients to the soil and the microorganisms that live there. Shredded leaves, in smaller pieces, simply decay faster. There are places in my garden where the shredded leaves I spread last fall disappeared entirely over the winter. So when I get around to it, I'll have places to redistribute this leaf surplus.
Got a garden question? I recommend you call or e-mail the Plant Clinic of The Morton Arboretum in Lisle, the Master Gardeners of the University of Illinois Extension or the Plant Information Service of the Chicago Botanic Garden in Glencoe .
All contents of this post are copyright Beth Botts. Feel free to link or share a brief excerpt with a link, but please do not reproduce photos or any other part of this blog without my express permission.
