Motley Garden | Surprise guests and their idiosyncrasies

Every time the garden gets a makeover, fresh soil is brought in, pots are renewed, and beds are turned over, I wait. Not for the plants whose seeds I have sown, but for the unplanned ones. Within weeks, sometimes days, something appears. A small leaf, then another. An unfamiliar stem pushing up through the new earth. A guest that the soil itself has brought to the party.

Over the years, many such plants have made my garden their home. They grow, seed, and establish themselves. They die back in one season and return in the next. I have stopped pulling most of them out. Not out of laziness, but out of recognition. It is a great gardening mistake, the reflex to weed before we identify. Each time I looked, I found I was being offered something valuable for free.

The one that has stayed the longest is Oxalis corniculata, Creeping Wood-sorrel, often known as hulisoppu in Kannada. It has trifoliate leaves, and each leaflet looks like a heart. It can be easily mistaken for clover. The leaves are mildly sour, with a clean lemon bite from the oxalic acid. We add the leaves to the dal, where the sourness works brilliantly alongside a bit of tempering. It spreads readily and sports tiny yellow flowers. It is also an excellent bee attractor.

The second is Commelina benghalensis, Tropical Spiderwort, often called kanne soppu in Kannada.

It announces itself with a tiny three-petalled flower, so blue it seems almost implausible. The plant spreads cheerfully along moist soil, and its leaves are cooked or fried as fritters. It is nutritious, freely available, and entirely ignored by urban gardeners who often mistake it for a weed and pull it out.

The third lies along the ground: Eclipta prostrata, or Bhringraj, also called false daisy. It is a low-growing plant with unremarkable small white flowers. But Bhringraj is one of Ayurveda’s most valued herbs, the cornerstone of almost every traditional hair oil grandmothers swore by. Every bottle of Neelibhringadi seems to owe something to it. It arrived in my garden for free, but they appear seasonally.

The fourth is Phyllanthus niruri, also known as nela nalli in Kannada. It has tiny oval leaves arranged in a perfect feather along a pink-tinged stem. Small, round fruits line the underside of each branch like beads on a string.

Another Ayurvedic staple, it is traditionally prescribed for kidney stones, liver conditions and jaundice. It is a small, inconspicuous plant that grows quietly out in the open.

The fifth is Crotalaria retusa, the rattlepod, also known as guluguluppahalli in Kannada. It is named for the sound the dried seeds make inside their inflated pods when you shake them; a sound children discover within seconds and adults find equally irresistible.

The flower spike is a long raceme of bright yellow blooms that look like a flock of small birds huddled together. It draws a variety of butterflies and is a nitrogen-fixer, quietly improving the quality of soil it grows in.

But the soil does not curate. Along with the welcome guests come the ones who overstay, spread without invitation, and have no intention of leaving. The sixth arrived years ago: Grona triflora, the three-flowered tick trefoil, called Kaadu Pullampurasi in Kannada. It grows close to the ground, below the mowing blade, spreading like a thick mat. The sticky seed pods hitchhike on shoes and tools, moving to new corners before you notice. I did not act quickly enough.

It took over the lawn completely, and it took me a year of persistent pulling to reclaim it. It still appears here and there, and I wrench it out.

Every uninvited plant deserves a second look. But a second look is not the same as an open invitation.

This is the truth about fresh soil. It comes with gifts and with trouble, often in the same bag. These are five plants I am grateful for and one I am still fighting. The soil does not distinguish between what you want and what you do not. That sorting is left to the gardener. And a good gardener learns to notice before removing.

Motley Garden is your monthly kaleidoscopic view into a sustainable garden ecosystem. The author believes gardens are shared spaces where plants and creatures thrive together. She can be reached at [e-mail] or on social media at @allthingsinmygarden