This is a comment some gardening books use to describe where some (presumably unpredictable!) plants will do best.
My garden beautifully illustrates its truth, and no where more so than in this corner between my back porch and house. The plume poppies - after struggling elsewhere - are decidedly happy here. I intended them to "fill out" the corner, and they have taken their mandate to heart, swamping all else - so now I am having to step on their toes with the lawnmower lest they take over the whole garden!
Sadly, the reverse is also true:
In the past - and I can't promise I won't do it again - I have, to my peril, ignored the truth of "does well where happy." I have a tendency to want to move plants around, and since I cannot bear to wait until a better time, I am inclined to grab the shovel and move something when it's in full bloom so I can see exactly what it will look like in the new perfect spot. (I confess that I have been known to move them yet again in the same season when the first perfect spot turned out to be not so perfect after all)
I did that once with a shasta daisy that was in the front of the bed and so happily huge that it totally obscured everything behind it. I moved it to the back where it might flash it's white blooms over the - carefully designed - arrangement of colours and textures in front of it. Lovely idea, but it wasn't happy there and the next year barely reached a foot high among plants that were gaily shooting up three feet. So of course I moved it again. Last year it was but a shadow of it's former self, and this spring I could not find even a wee sprig. My neighbour, who deplores my moving things around, tells me comfortingly (and very generously) that shasta daisies are not long-lived, and I hope that's the reason it departed. To make up for my mistreatment of it I am giving some space to its wild daisy cousins that are exceedingly happy everywhere in my garden. I guess I hope that doing so will also mitigate the negative effects of pulling out most of the baby Queen Anne's lace that I find. I do sometimes wonder what would happen if I simply left everything alone. Probably a forest of plume poppies!
Complicated business, gardening.
May your gardens thrive and provide a space for you too to be happy and do well, and may all your plants live happily ever after.
PS. I am in the midst of teaching a TTouch training in New Jersey, where most of the participants claim gardening as a passion. As someone pointed out - how appropriate for the Garden State!