Mountain fescue (Festuca montana), a native bunchgrass, adds architectural interest in winter.
I’ve been outside today, working in the yard and soaking up sunshine–both very welcome after some incredibly difficult months. I spent October and November caring for my sculptor husband, Richard until his death at home from brain cancer, and then plunged into end-of-the-year, after-death paperwork and organizing the celebration of his life. All of that was important and necessary work, sometimes even beautiful, but also exhausting, painful and simply grueling.
To have the unusually warm day and some free time to work outside was a gift. For me, only writing is as therapeutic as working with the native plants reweaving a healthy and diverse natural community on our formerly blighted industrial property.
Blanketflower (Gaillardia aristata) and desert indian paintbrush (Castilleja integra) brighten our native bunchgrass yard.
When people ask why I chose to “green” our once-ugly and weed-infested property by seeding in a native grassland yard instead of sodding a lawn, I usually start with saying, “because it doesn’t need watering.”
Somewhere around 60 percent of household water consumption here in the arid West goes to maintaining landscaping. That’s simply not sustainable. Especially here in the high desert, where in a good year we only receive ten inches of precipitation anyway.
Which is why I decided to go native, restoring the community of wildflowers, bunchgrasses and shrubs that have thrived here for millennia, instead of importing a water-thirsty, maintenance-intensive lawn. I figured the natives would be tough, would survive without additional water (most of the time), and wouldn’t need fertilizer and pesticides and weekly mowing.
Tough and beautiful, scarlet gilia (Ipomopsis aggregata) blooms through the first few snows of autumn.
All of that’s proven true. I didn’t amend the soil (natives prefer the soil they’re used to, rather than garden soil); I don’t use fertilizers or pesticides–they don’t need either; I “mow” the yard once a year by hand, cutting back the dead tops of the perennial grasses and wildflowers in spring. And I hardly ever water–unless it’s been dry for weeks.
Today, as I pulled a few stray weeds, picked up windblown trash, and did some other yard-tidying, I was reminded of another reason I went native in restoring this once-ugly property: for the subtle beauty of our grasses and wildflowers in winter. The show-stopping seasons are spring and summer, of course, when passers-by ogle the sea of bright-colored wildflowers against the more muted green palette of the bunchgrasses.
Rocky mountain penstemon (Penstemon strictus) protects its leaves from winter damage from ultraviolet rays with beautiful burgundy pigment.
But look what I found in the dead time of winter, in a season that’s been one of the driest in recent memory, including the clump of mountain fescue with the slender, gracefully curling leaves in the photo at the beginning of the post. And that gorgeous nearly magenta shade of the Rocky Mountain penstemon leaves in the photo above. And the ferny, silver-haired clump of basal leaves of scarlet gilia in the photo below. Talk about texture!
A biennial whose flowers attract hummingbirds more readily than any feeder, scarlet gilia’s basal leaves stay green through the winter.
And one last pop of color and winter architecture from a clump of little bluestem grass. If that won’t brighten your day, I don’t know what will!
Little bluestem grass (Schizachyrium scoparium) begins fall a dark wine color and fade to this peachy orange hue over the winter.
My “wild” yard is so much more interesting than a monocultural turf-grass lawn… And of course, each of these native plants comes with relationships with other organisms that together weave a healthy, sustainable, and fascinating community: the fungi that bind the grains of dry soil and help it absorb such precipitation as falls; the mosses and lichens that form a shady, insulating cover over the soil surface; the butterflies, beetles, bees, and hummingbirds that pollinate the flowers; the harvester ants, goldfinches and bushtits that eat the seeds, dropping some to sprout new natives far from the parent plants.
An adult fritillary butterfly perches on a clump of mountain fescue, the food of its caterpillars.
In return for the effort and time involved in restoring the native species to form this dryland meadow, I get a whole community to enliven my days, no matter the season. Sustainability, beauty, and something new to see every day. That’s a enduring gift.
And as I walk into my new solo life without Richard, my companion of nearly 29 years, I realize that restoring the natives is deeply right on more than a personal level. When I am gone too, our half-block yard, the little portion of this planet that we worked together to restore will be in far better shape than we found it.
Why go native? To heal ourselves, and our mite of Earth.
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About Susan J. Tweit
The idea that we are giving something up to go with native plants in a garden setting is so untrue. You have stated what many of us feel most eloquently.
Gloria recently posted..Save Starved Rock
Thank you, Gloria. I get such a kick out of watching my native grassland yard grow and change, and seeing what species of wildlife appear each year. Mine may be especially sweet since it’s a “greened” formerly blighted industrial property, but still–who wouldn’t love a yard full of wildflowers and hummingbirds in summer, and the lively flocks of juncos and chickadees poking through bleached bunchgrasses in winter? I think most homeowners don’t realize how much beauty and entertainment they’re missing and how good it feels to do something healing for their patch of earth… (Okay, backing carefully off my soapbox now!)
Susan J. Tweit recently posted..Alone but not lonely
When people ask why don’t I cut down my garden in winter I simply say that the animals depend on the fact that I leave it up. And you know it is gorgeous with the snow on it as well. Many neighbors actually love the wild look in winter. Why go native besides it is the right thing to do for our planet….Because of the beauty of the plants and the wildlife that I am privileged to see every day…thx for a most thought-provoking post!!
Donna@ Gardens Eye View recently posted..Gardens Eye Verse-January
I get that question frequently, too, Donna, and I answer in much the same way. Also, in my high-desert climate, the bunchgrass and wildflower clumps provide just enough shade and wind-protection to hold some snow over the winter. That’s worth a lot for spring soil moisture–any extra moisture is so valuable here. If I cut it all back, my yard would be drier in spring. And then as you say, there’s the beauty of the “plant bones” in winter and the wildlife dependent on their structures and seeds. I think natives bless us with their company and the community they form.
Susan J. Tweit recently posted..Alone but not lonely
Very poignant! I admire your strength at channeling your feelings toward a renewed effort to preserve nature and native plants in your garden.
Beatriz Moisset recently posted..More little known moth pollinators: seed casebearers and flower moths
Beatriz, thank you. It’s the plants, and as I said above, the community they weave, that keep me nurtured. They give me hope for the future, our own, and the future of this numinous blue planet.
Susan J. Tweit recently posted..Alone but not lonely
Thank you so much for writing this post. My husband has had cancer on and off for over 25 years. One day I might lose him, but like you we have a beautiful wild patch that we both love (ours is in Dorset, England) that will hopefully inspire me with its beauty and wildlife for a very long time.
Jane recently posted..My hubby’s a bird whisperer!
Jane, my sympathy to you on your long acquaintance with your husband’s cancer. It’s a tough thing to have in the background of your life, but it sounds like you’re doing the right things to live well with it. That was our goal with Richard’s brain cancer, and he had two years the docs didn’t expect, two mostly good years. We lived mindfully and in the present moment, with lots of laughter and love. That’s the best all of us can do… May your wild Dorset patch bring you both joy for a long time!
Susan J. Tweit recently posted..Alone but not lonely
Thank you! I look forward to reading your inspirational posts in 2012.
So true, Susan! My wildlife garden has been such a comfort to me lately as I heal and seek some solace for my weary soul. To stand out back and watch the tiny Chickadee take on and chase off the much larger Red-Bellied Woodpecker made me laugh right out loud, and that laughter has stayed with me throughout this day. We are not only creating something of beauty for ourselves when we create welcoming habitat for wildlife in our gardens, we are giving something back to the earth, our ecosystems, and our wildlife friends who depend on them.
Carole Sevilla Brown recently posted..Reflection and Anticipation
I got a smile from the image of the chickadee chasing off the red-bellied woodpecker, Carole. Thank you for sharing that. I agree that the wonderful part about restoring native plants and the community they weave is that we are giving back to the very earth that makes our lives possible. That’s definitely satisfying–and healing.
Susan J. Tweit recently posted..Alone but not lonely
How deeply satisfying to turn blighted earth to a community of wild flowers and birds. A small scale (re)colonization of Krakatoa island.
Elephant’s Eye recently posted..The Eleventh Day of Christmas
It has been deeply satisfying, Diana. And surprisingly nurturing to me (and to Richard, as well). I really didn’t realize how working to heal this place would heal me, too.
Susan J. Tweit recently posted..Alone but not lonely
“In return for the effort and time involved in restoring the native species to form this dryland meadow, I get a whole community to enliven my days” Having these friends is a very special gift. By restoring the ecosystem in that half-block, you have certainly earned your place in their community.
Kathy @nativegardener recently posted..Top 5 Favorite Posts from 2011
Kathy, I feel very fortunate to live on this particular patch of ground. It’s been so healing to help it heal, and to see the natives return bit by bit. I’ve more to do, and even though I’ll be doing it myself, I’ll have Richard’s spirit cheering me on.
Susan J. Tweit recently posted..Alone but not lonely
Once again you inspire me! Ideas percolating here now…thank you dear Susan
I love it when I can inspire new ideas! Thanks, Chery.
Susan J. Tweit recently posted..Living Well: I really am fine
Beautiful post and I think it is smart to start with the doesn’t need watering fact. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve told people that at the outreach programs I help with for the Native Plant Society. Although I tell them that in the interest of conserving that precious resource, the reality is they listen because their water bills are so high. Whatever works, I say. Your place sounds simply lovely and as I gaze out at my “spent” bluestem grasses withi the birds hanging on the sides eating seeds, I think…how could someone NOT love the winter interest it provides?
Loret recently posted..Happy Holidays
Loret, I think you’re right that what motivates us to any change is self-interest. So however we can reach people is good. Enjoy your bluestem clumps with the birds eating their seeds–what a lovely sight!
Susan J. Tweit recently posted..Living Well: I really am fine