The west end of the outer bed, along the fence line, was my primary work area. The previous day, I had worked along the eastern end and the center panel.
Center - Before
Center - After
I’ve learned a great deal about these ferns through this process. I originally planted only a few. They grew slowly at first, and during the garden’s early years, they were excellent for filling the voids within the upper beds, which consisted mostly of soil.
Eventually, I began noticing ferns appearing in places where I had never intentionally planted them. Apparently, mature ferns produce tiny, russet-colored spores on the undersides of their fronds. These spores can drift away and germinate when conditions are right. The process is slow, but the Zen Garden—with its shade, sprinkler system, and moss-covered soil—provides an ideal environment for their spread.
Initially, I didn’t mind. Free plants, after all! And the garden had not yet reached a stable state of maturity, so the ferns helped fill in the gaps. I also liked the way they appeared in nooks and crannies along the rock walls of the lower beds. They made the garden seem less man-made and more natural.
Over the last couple of years, however, the fern clumps seemed to be getting larger while new plants continued to appear throughout the garden beds. This year, it became clear that they were beginning to take over and overcrowd other well-established plants. It was time for the ferns to go.
Maple Area - Before
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| Maple Area - After |
West End - Before
West End - After
I had seriously underestimated just how large Godzilla Ferns could become.
Overcrowding
They weren’t spreading nearly as much through spores; they were simply growing to enormous widths and heights. They, too, had to go.
After three days, I was still struggling to remove ferns, especially those growing within the stonework. They are nearly impossible to extract without deconstructing the surrounding rocks. And, as I’ve discovered, once a stone or two comes out, it never seems to want to go back into exactly the same spot.
As a result, much of my time has been spent rebuilding sections of stonework—stonework that, for the most part, has sat undisturbed for 17 years. I’ll admit that some of these beds were probably due for a little rethinking, so I’m not too upset about having to make a few adjustments. I just wasn’t planning to do this type of work this season.
On the bright side, I was able to retain seven large stones during the reconstruction that I can now use elsewhere in the garden.
Stones for Reuse
In addition to dealing with the fern situation, I took the opportunity to divide a Hosta ('Wide Brim') that had become too large. Half went into a bucket, while the other half was replanted.
I also removed and bucketed a Goat’s Beard (Aruncus 'Chantilly Lace') and replaced it with the American Maidenhair Fern (Adiantum pedatum) that I had removed from the east-end steps a couple of days earlier.
Surprisingly, I also found my stone turtle buried beneath the overcrowded ferns.
Although forgotten, he is no longer lost.
In total, I removed and bucketed no fewer than 50 ferns over three days, all of which I placed along the street at the end of the driveway for neighbors and passersby to claim as their own.
It has been an enormous amount of work—entirely unplanned, but necessary. In the process, I learned a great deal about managing ferns in a rock garden.
My best advice? Don’t plant them in a rock garden.
In soil, they are relatively easy to manage. Among tightly fitting rocks, however, they can become a real nightmare.
Unfortunately, I will miss these ferns. They were beautiful and did a wonderful job of improving the garden’s appearance during its early years. But gardens evolve, and what works beautifully at one stage may become a problem at another.
As next spring approaches, I’ll consider how best to fill the spaces they leave behind and ensure that the garden doesn’t lose any of its appeal.
Another stage in the ongoing education of gardening—and another reminder that a garden is never truly finished.
