These Invasive Ground Covers Turned Into a Gardening Headache – 8 I’ll Never Plant Again (and What I Recommend Instead)

Every gardener has a few plants they wish they’d never brought home. For me, most of those regrets come in the form of ground covers. On the surface, they look like the perfect problem-solvers—compact, charming, and eager to spread into those tricky bare spots. But what feels like a blessing in the first season can quickly turn into a curse.

What begins as a neat little patch of green often transforms into a creeping invader, slipping under fences, crowding out perennials, and staking out territory you never offered. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve fallen for a plant’s pretty foliage in spring, only to spend years yanking up stubborn runners in frustration.

I still remember planting creeping Jenny (Lysimachia nummularia) for its cheerful golden leaves. Within a single season, it had threaded itself through the bed, tangling around everything in its path. And Japanese blood grass (Imperata cylindrica)? Its fiery blades dazzled me at first, but the underground runners kept marching long after I’d decided I was finished with it.

Of course, not every ground cover misbehaves in every climate. A plant that becomes invasive in one region may stay completely manageable in another. Still, after plenty of trial and error, I’ve built my own personal “never again” list—species that caused more headaches than they were worth. Thankfully, I’ve also found gentler replacements that give me the same beauty and coverage without turning into a long-term battle.

1. Creeping Jenny (Lysimachia nummularia)

Few ground covers are as cheerful as creeping Jenny in spring and summer. Its trailing stems spill beautifully from pots, and the bright golden-leaved varieties can light up shady corners like nothing else. In a hanging basket or container, it’s a star.

But planted directly into garden beds, creeping Jenny turns from charming to overwhelming. It races across the soil, rooting at every node, and before you know it, it’s wound its way through perennials, shrubs, and even into lawns. I’ve had to dig it out of gravel paths where it slipped unnoticed and created a mat nearly impossible to remove.

Because it’s so vigorous, it’s also listed as invasive in certain regions, especially where moist soil gives it the perfect conditions to spread unchecked.

A Better Alternative: Golden oregano (Origanum vulgare ‘Aureum’). It offers a similar golden glow but without the rampant behavior. Golden oregano forms tidy mounds, adds fragrance, and can even be used in cooking. Plus, its summer flowers attract pollinators, and it never creeps aggressively where it’s not wanted.

2. Muehlenbeckia (Necklace Vine, Muehlenbeckia complexa)

At first, this plant seems harmless—even charming. With its wiry stems and tiny round leaves, necklace vine looks like a delicate trailing accent. In containers or hanging baskets, it can be downright attractive. But when planted in the ground, it reveals its true colors.

I’ve seen Muehlenbeckia scramble over shrubs, choke perennials, and spread like a green web across borders. Once it takes hold, it doesn’t stop. In a single season, it can reach ten feet or more, weaving its way through anything in its path. Cutting it back is only a temporary solution; the wiry stems simply return, denser and more tangled than before.

In the right climate—mild winters, steady moisture—this plant can turn into a monster. And though some gardeners prize it for erosion control or coverage, I’ve come to view it as more of a nuisance than a helper.

A Better Alternative: Foamflower (Tiarella cordifolia). Unlike necklace vine, foamflower behaves with grace. It forms neat clumps, its leaves mottled with lovely patterns, and in spring, it sends up spikes of delicate pink-and-white starry flowers. Best of all, it thrives in shade, returning year after year without overwhelming nearby plants. It naturalizes gently, creating a soft woodland carpet rather than a suffocating net.

3. Acanthus (Bear’s Breeches, Acanthus mollis)

Few plants make as dramatic a statement as bear’s breeches. Its deeply cut, glossy leaves look architectural, almost sculptural. And when it sends up towering flower spikes in summer, it can stop you in your tracks. That’s exactly why I planted it years ago.

The problem, of course, comes later. Once bear’s breeches decides it’s comfortable, it begins to spread—relentlessly. Underground suckers creep into every available space, and before long, new clumps appear several feet away from where you first planted it. Digging it out is nearly impossible, as even a small piece of root left behind can resprout. I’ve wrestled with this plant for years, trying to reclaim beds it invaded.

In some U.S. regions, particularly on the West Coast, it’s outright considered invasive. And even in harsher climates, it persists stubbornly in spots you’d rather it didn’t. While I still admire its bold look, I’ve learned that beauty isn’t worth the ongoing battle.

A Better Alternative: Oregon grape (Mahonia aquifolium). This native shrub offers the same kind of visual drama, but without the aggressive takeover. Its spiky evergreen leaves resemble holly, catching the light beautifully, and in spring it bursts into clusters of bright yellow flowers. Hardy to zone 5, Oregon grape thrives in shade and poor soil, making it just as tough as Acanthus—but infinitely easier to live with.

4. Bishop’s Weed (Aegopodium podagraria, also called Goutweed)

Bishop’s weed is often sold as a quick-fix ground cover for difficult areas, especially shady or dry spots. Its variegated leaves can look fresh and bright, and in spring it even sends up umbels of white flowers that resemble Queen Anne’s lace.

But make no mistake: bishop’s weed is one of the most invasive ground covers I’ve ever encountered. Once it’s in the ground, it spreads by underground rhizomes with frightening speed. I’ve seen it push up through thick mulch, stone paths, and even through cracks in concrete edging. Trying to dig it out usually just breaks up the roots—and each fragment creates a new plant. It’s no wonder gardeners often say, “plant it once, regret it forever.”

A Better Alternative: Sweet woodruff (Galium odoratum). A graceful, shade-loving perennial that forms soft mats of whorled leaves topped with delicate white flowers in spring. It spreads gently, fills gaps without bullying neighbors, and even releases a sweet haylike fragrance when the foliage is dried. A far more civilized option for shady ground cover.

5. Periwinkle (Vinca minor and Vinca major)

At first glance, periwinkle seems like the perfect low-maintenance ground cover. With glossy evergreen leaves and pretty blue or purple flowers, it looks like a no-fuss solution for covering bare slopes or shady beds. Many older gardens still feature swaths of it, precisely because it was once so widely planted.

The trouble is that periwinkle doesn’t know when to stop. Its long trailing stems root wherever they touch the soil, and soon it’s carpeting everything in sight. In some regions, especially in the eastern U.S., it’s classified as invasive, as it creeps into woodlands and crowds out native wildflowers. Once it’s established, eradicating it is a long, back-breaking process that often requires multiple seasons of pulling and smothering.

A Better Alternative: Creeping phlox (Phlox subulata). This sun-loving perennial spreads in a controlled way, forming colorful carpets of pink, lavender, blue, or white in spring. Unlike periwinkle, it doesn’t invade woodland edges, and after its bloom season, it leaves behind a neat mat of green foliage. It’s both vibrant and dependable, without the guilt of planting something that will escape into the wild.

6. Japanese Blood Grass (Imperata cylindrica)

I’ll admit, Japanese blood grass is mesmerizing. Its blades start green, then turn crimson at the tips, creating a fiery effect in the garden. Planted en masse, it looks like a living flame. That kind of spectacle is hard to resist.

But looks can be deceiving. This grass has a darker side. In states like Florida and Virginia, it’s classified as a noxious weed and outright banned. The reason is simple: it spreads aggressively by underground rhizomes, pushing into wild areas and crowding out native plants. Even in gardens, it quickly overruns borders, forming a dense, unyielding mat that’s almost impossible to eradicate.

I once inherited a border thick with this grass, and removing it took months of digging, pulling, and re-digging. Even then, stubborn shoots popped up for years afterward. Unless you keep it strictly in containers, it’s simply too risky.

A Better Alternative: Japanese forest grass (Hakonechloa macra). This is everything blood grass pretends to be—graceful, colorful, and textural—but without the invasive nature. Its arching foliage sways in the breeze, adding movement and softness to shady areas. The golden-leaved varieties glow in dappled light, and it stays neatly clumped instead of running rampant. While it’s slower growing, it rewards patience with reliability and elegance.

7. Italian Arum (Arum italicum)

With its marbled green-and-white leaves, Italian arum looks refined, even exotic. It pops up in early spring when little else is green, and later in the season, its bright orange seed spikes are undeniably eye-catching. On paper, it sounds like a plant worth having.

In reality? It’s a nightmare. Italian arum spreads by tubers and seeds, slipping into places you never planted it. Once established, it becomes incredibly difficult to eliminate, as each tuber seems to multiply underground. Worse, it’s considered invasive in places like the Pacific Northwest, where the cool, damp climate helps it flourish unchecked.

There’s also the issue of toxicity. Every part of the plant is poisonous to humans and pets, and even handling it can cause skin irritation. I’ve had to weed it out with gloves and long sleeves, only to see it reappear the following spring.

A Better Alternative: Wild geranium (Geranium maculatum). This native perennial offers the same early-spring appeal, producing clusters of soft lavender-pink flowers in woodland settings. It spreads politely, filling gaps without smothering neighbors. Best of all, when it self-seeds, you can simply dig up the extras and share them. No gloves, no toxicity, no endless frustration—just simple beauty.

8. Mind-Your-Own-Business (Soleirolia soleirolii)

The name might be playful, but the plant is anything but. With its tiny, round leaves and creeping habit, mind-your-own-business seems like the perfect filler for cracks in paving or damp shady corners. It forms a lush green carpet that’s undeniably appealing.

The trouble comes when it decides your whole garden is fair game. I’ve seen this plant creep into borders, smother small perennials, and even pop up between bricks and stones where it’s nearly impossible to weed out. It thrives in moist, mild climates, and once it’s settled in, it feels like it’s everywhere. Yes, it pulls up easily—but by the time you’ve finished, it’s already growing back somewhere else.

In small doses, or in a controlled container, it can be charming. But in open ground, I’ve found it to be more maintenance than I’m willing to give.

A Better Alternative: Brass buttons (Leptinella squalida). This New Zealand native offers the same low, spreading carpet effect, but with ferny, textured foliage that’s even more interesting. It stays manageable, is hardy down to zone 4, and makes a quirky, conversation-worthy addition to shady corners. With just a little water in summer, it stays lush without becoming invasive.