The Canna Chronicles: We All Have Our Place

Read about how Garden Marcus went from initial excitement to the realization of an invasive problem, navigated the complexities of plant interactions, and ultimately restored balance to his garden.

In the summer of 2017, two and a half years into my gardening journey, a colleague gave me several garbage bags full of different plants from her outdoor oasis. 

I’d started my garden on a tight budget, working mainly with sweet potato ivy, purple queen, and elephant ears that I’d found in the discount section of the garden store or been given, so I accepted her gift with excitement and gratitude. 

The cannas that she included were of particular interest to me, and she’d separated them by the color of the flowers: red, orange, and yellow. One bag of stalks with dark leaves contained special variegated bulbs—not that I knew what this meant at the time.

As grateful as I was for her kind and bountiful gift, I was exhausted by work and didn’t have the time or energy to fully think through the process of planting the bulbs. Instead, I imagined how the vibrant colors of the flowers would look together in bloom and planted bulbs wherever I saw space for them. 

The idea of blooming canna lilies energized and inspired me, and I found myself looking out my windows for signs of progress whenever I had the chance.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long. These bulbs loved my garden, and growth appeared within a few weeks! The cannas erupted into bright green stalks, and their oval leaves unfurled from tight spirals, giving the plants dimension and volume. 

With the number of bulbs that I’d planted, my garden transformed and my spirit sang. The new additions contributed to the beauty of my garden, and it became my solace and sanctuary.

Growth Blooms and Problems Develop

Unfortunately, my job demanded more of my time, and I couldn’t enjoy the garden as much as I would have liked. I yearned for the energy that the garden gave me, so I took every opportunity to get outside. 

With my limited time, the most that I could do was to enjoy what I’d cultivated; I couldn’t do any work, add anything new, or take care of issues.

A year later, the cannas stood 2 to 4 feet tall, and red, orange, and yellow flowers bloomed atop the stalks. They were strong, resilient, and beautiful. I was pleased because they had not required much effort, and my garden seemed as healthy as ever. 

As a self-taught, experiment-driven gardener, I did not realize that plants can take time to reveal signs of decline, which often begins in the soil (learn how to test your soil). 

Problems often develop where we can’t see them and wait to reveal themselves, especially if we don’t know how to look for them. I saw cannas growing all over my garden but did not know that they were multiplying in the ground.

Fast-forward another year: I noticed that some plants had stopped growing and others appeared stunted. Had a garden pest invaded while I focused on work? Did a problem develop in my soil? Did a neighbor use a toxic herbicide that seeped into my garden?

I stood in my garden and surveyed my favored space, looking for signs of the culprit. Despite the decline of some plants, tall green stalks and oval leaves were everywhere. Suddenly, it struck me: My canna lilies looked unaffected and unbothered. Where other plants showed signs of struggle, these were thriving, with bright foliage, strong forms, and blooming flowers. 

I looked at my yard and soon realized that there were far more canna lilies in my garden than I’d originally planted. A wave of horror washed over me: could the cannas be the culprit? Could the gift that I’d come to love be thriving at the expense of my other plants? My busy schedule prevented me from investigating further, but the suspicion remained.

In fall 2020, I noticed that the elephant ears in one of the beds had failed to grow to their typical size, so I tried an experiment: I dug out the cannas that I’d planted there a couple of years before and discovered that the canna roots had spread farther than I’d anticipated, produced more bulbs, and strangled the roots of my elephant ears! 

I reluctantly accepted the idea that the cannas were hurting my garden, and I had many hours of work ahead of me. My plan was to remove all of the canna bulbs, so I resolved to do a little bit every time I went out to the garden.

Tragedy Strikes: The Texas Frost

Before I could lift all of the cannas, the Texas Frost of 2021 decimated my cherished garden. What had been a colorful and lively landscape became a dreary scene of decay in a matter of days. The snow melted, leaving few signs of life in its wake. I was heartbroken, but such is the life of a gardener. 

Over the next couple of weeks, I forced myself not to work in my garden and let nature run its course. Thankfully, it was not long before my hardiest plants emerged above the soil. Purple Queen was the first to return. Cannas were next, and with fewer plants to compete within the soil, they grew quickly and plentifully. 

Within months, color, shape, and texture had returned to my garden, mainly as purple tubes and bright green canna stalks. My elephant ears recovered more slowly, and some other plants did not come back at all. As I planned for “Project Rebuild My Garden,” the depth of the issue began to truly sink in. 

Cannas had multiplied and sprouted everywhere! There were over five times more cannas growing than had been originally planted. This confirmed to me that cannas were hindering other plants from rebounding. I needed to lift all of the cannas out of the ground as soon as possible and plant them into pots from which they couldn’t spread their roots and multiply. This job was likely to take hours and sap most of my energy.

Learning from Cannas

I got to work with my shovel, pressing it into the ground with my foot and fishing out clusters of bulbs. I gave the cannas new homes in planters of varying sizes that lined my fence and fit into every free space. 

Just as my canna garden began as a gift, so I shared these bulbs freely with friends and family— along with a warning that, if planted in the ground, the bulbs were likely to propagate and take over.

As I reflected on this 4-year process, I thought of a parallel between canna lilies and people. The bulbs transformed my yard in ways that I’d not anticipated; in the same way, just like cannas, we affect our own communities. 

We can bring beauty and joy as well as problems and chaos— potentially at the same time. We differ from canna lilies in that we can use observation and awareness to ensure that we contribute to the betterment of our environment and those around us.

By moving my canna lilies to pots, I helped them to do what they couldn’t do alone: relocate. This reminds me of the power of community and that we don’t need to operate alone. When we’re struggling, we can reach out for help so that our problems don’t spread and affect the community. 

Now, years later, I still haven’t completely eliminated cannas from the soil. They rooted deeply and still pop up. Thankfully, the remaining plants are easy to spot and remove. I’ve brought balance back to my garden and learned how amazing and versatile canna bulbs can be. I’ve also learned what can happen when we introduce new plants to each other: They don’t always work together, but they still have a place in the garden community.