A Harmony of Companions: Four Plant Pairings That Sing in May
I’ve always believed the best gardens aren’t designed on paper, but discovered over time — slowly, quietly, through observation and instinct. Some of the loveliest moments I’ve had in gardens haven’t come from elaborate plans, but from realising that two plants, quite by accident, had become friends.
They leaned into each other just so. One cast shade where the other liked its roots cool. One soared; the other sprawled. Their colours hummed rather than shouted, and something in the pairing felt… inevitable.
May is a perfect month for noticing these relationships. There’s energy in the air — not the frenetic push of early spring, but something more confident. Plants begin to show their personality. Gaps appear in borders, and the temptation to fill them becomes less about rules and more about rhythm. What feels good? What looks balanced? What might sing?
Companionship in the Border
There’s a difference between matching and complementing. Some plants look too neat together, like they were forced into a photograph. Others — often the best combinations — feel like conversation.
A Geum in orange bloom reaching toward a Salvia’s purple spike. The soft brush of Nepeta around their feet. Not a set-piece, but a gathering.
Under the dappled shade of a cherry tree, I once saw Allium ‘Purple Sensation’ lifting above a haze of Aquilegia, with Brunnera’s heart-shaped leaves catching the light below. It felt like an understory ballet — delicate, layered, completely in tune.
In another garden, less tidy, I watched Euphorbia oblongata hold the line while Cerinthe spilled casually from a path edge. A handful of Calendula had sown itself in the cracks. Wild, yes — but joyful. The kind of combination no one sets out to make, but everyone remembers.
And then there are the reliable duos and trios I return to time and again: Rozanne’s generous sprawl wrapping around Penstemon ‘Raven’ and the lemony fizz of Coreopsis, like someone had set a table and lit a candle.
More Than Just Colour
When we talk about companion planting, we often mean utility — what repels pests, what feeds the soil. But there’s a deeper companionship too, rooted in aesthetic balance and emotional pull.
Shape, scale, texture, timing — these matter as much as hue. A border that catches your breath isn’t necessarily the brightest. It’s the one where everything seems in conversation, where the planting feels as though it has always been that way.
Sometimes, what begins as a practical pairing becomes a signature. I’ve had clients who say, “Can you do that thing again — the one with the purple and silver from last year?” And I know exactly what they mean. The plants spoke to each other. And to them.
Final Thought: Let the Plants Lead
The best part is: you don’t need to get it right the first time. Try something. Let it grow. Watch how the light falls. Move a pot. Leave a self-seeder alone for once. A garden isn’t a fixed idea — it’s a growing relationship.
May is generous. It invites you to join in, not by dictating, but by noticing. By responding. By letting companionship reveal itself.
Have you discovered a pairing that stopped you in your tracks? A moment of harmony, planned or accidental? Share your story or a photo in the comments of this Facebook post.
Happy Gardening.
— Marcus