The Pleasures and Perils of Planning a Companion Garden

When I first became interested in gardening, the only thing that was more alluring than all the cool vegetable and flower varieties I could grow was all the possible ways those vegetables and flowers could be arranged in my garden space. Organic gardening books and the most popular online garden profiles promoted a menagerie of creative solutions beyond conventional rows to get the most out of my growing space. While many methods had merit, none were more seductive than companion planting.

I immediately fell in love with the concept of companion planting and its message that when certain vegetables, flowers and herbs are planted together, their complementary traits benefit one another by not only protecting from pests and disease but also, in some circumstances, improving each other’s quality and yields.

It’s all about working with nature rather than against it. And you, the gardener, get to be a steward of harmonious relationships that follow the path of least resistance. An intermediary force fostering beautiful friendships in the botanical realm! For someone seeking that deeper connection, dead set on growing healthy, nontoxic food while utilizing every square inch of dirt available, this is the pinnacle of organic garden management. A one-stop-shop, all-inclusive, tall glass of holistic Kool-Aid.

However, as with most aspects of gardening in those early years, the honeymoon period of unfettered idealism was short-lived when I realized planning a garden around the tenets of companion planting was less like making a friendship bracelet and more like trying to create a seating chart for a large wedding. Something that you dreamed would be an effortlessly joyous task is, in actuality, a very dramatic game of sudoku.

Whether with plants or people, you have to be well-versed in the intricacies of your guests’ relationships. You have to know who gets along with whom (tomato likes lettuce, carrots, celery and onions. Lettuce, celery and onions like potato), and more importantly, who shouldn’t under any circumstance be anywhere near each other (tomato and potato, carrot and celery, fennel and everyone).

There will be some guests with a personality that can adapt to any social situation, and their placement is beneficial no matter where they sit (calendula, thyme, rosemary, nasturtium). Other guests might just be plus ones and indifferent to everyone else at the table (basil with tomato). Then there are those who say they’re cool with certain guests, but the feeling is not mutual (tomatoes and carrots).

Because it’s nearly impossible to have all this information yourself, you turn to trusted sources for advice (books and internet). Unfortunately, you find that they all have their own ideas about which guests should sit next to each other. Some suggested arrangements are similar across the board, but there are a few odd pairings (beans and onion) that make you wonder if your source is aware of the tumultuous past shared by the guests in question. Or perhaps you missed the memo that they made up (carrots and tomatoes).

As if the relationships between the guests at each table weren’t enough to decode, there’s also the layout of tables to take into consideration. Because everyone is working on their tan, sun exposure is a big deal. Shorter guests (peppers, onions, carrots, radishes, beets, marigolds) need to be seated in front of taller guests (tomatoes, kale, cabbage, corn). Some people will say that the shorter guests (lettuce, carrots, basil) can tolerate being shaded out by taller guests, but I wouldn’t count on them not having a fit and refusing to participate in the party. Guests who like to climb (pole beans, cucumbers) should probably be seated next to a wall, but some tall guests are eager to mingle (corn). Sprawling guests might benefit from being seated away from everyone (squash, melon), but again, some tall guests really like to get around (corn).

Chances are you’ll probably realize that your invite list far exceeds the number of chairs and tables available. You think maybe you can get more chairs and squeeze guests in because there are some who you would like to see hit it off, but the odds of enjoying anyone’s company while they’re breathing and sweating on you, no matter how “beneficial” to your wellbeing they say they are, is pretty slim. Guests leaving covered in mildew just isn’t a good look. So that’s something to take into consideration.

Looking back on myself as a new gardener, it’s amusing to me that I became so infatuated with what I’ve come to regard as the most complicated and frustrating method for planning a garden. It’s now a load-bearing wall in my palace of garden philosophy, and I’ve espoused the virtues of the method to all who would listen.

While I do think having the knowledge of companion planting is an excellent tool to have in your arsenal of garden wisdom, to prioritize it right off the bat is like trying to take calculus before algebra. Or like managing the interpersonal relationships between quarreling family members on your big day. You don’t need that kind of stress.

In the end, no matter what garden planning method you decide to internalize, so long as the soil is nutritious and the water is plentiful, most plants will get along just fine, even fennel.