May 31, 2022
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| In order to help make our yard more attractive to wildlife and give the landscape a more natural feel we've been adding not only smaller flowering plants, but native trees and shrubs as well, including this Silky Dogwood shrub (cornus amomum). This plant arrived in bare root form from Prairie Moon Farms and went into the ground last autumn. In order to give it plenty of room to spread out I cut back a rhododendron that was running wild across an old flower bed. When fully mature, this shrub should reach 6'-10' feet in height. Photo Copyright Daniel E. Levenson 2022. |
It’s been quite some time since I last posted anything on this blog, and to be honest, many other writing projects have come and gone in the intervening period, and the efforts I put into this nature blog had faded from memory. In fact, I think I pretty much forgot it existed.
And then we were hit by a global pandemic in early 2020, and to escape the depressing claustrophobia of life largely confined to home I turned my attention to writing about the natural world once again, turning early morning forays to little ponds and suburban parks into short essays I collected in a manuscript. That manuscript still sits on a hard drive, because when I went back to read it and edit it, I found it rather depressing. Then I started to write something else, but that petered out as well. Such is the act of writing I suppose. As any honest writer will relate, their files - be they physical, digital, or mental - contain far more half-finished pieces and scraps of ideas than ever see publication.
Part of what drove the first year pandemic nature essay project was a desire to give myself the (admittedly delusional) goal of creating a sense of control in a world that felt like it was fraying at the edges. In terms of structure, this effort was designed to reflect not only the similarities and differences I saw in the landscape between and among the seasons, but to try and capture the edges where they overlap - seasonal ecotones one might call them, I suppose.
For now, that work sits on a shelf. I may return to it one day, or I may let it remain as it is, a raw account of a year spent seeking solace in the forests and meadows close to home.
In the meantime one of the most exciting ongoing projects I’ve embarked upon has been a small-scale rewinding effort in the yard around my home. In broad strokes, this effort has been comprised of several key elements:
1. Removing alien-invasive plants
2. Plating species of plants native to the eastern US and specifically New England, including various Milkweeds, Asters, Lupine and others, and allowing native plants to fill in open spaces on their own
3. Using organic gardening techniques to encourage the growth of native plants to improve the soil, and avoiding the use of gas-powered mowers, blowers, etc.
4. Adding brush piles, bird feeders, bird baths, and allowing snags to stand (when and where safe)
The removal of alien-invasive plants is admittedly a frustrating aspect of this work, because, as the name implies, these plants have not evolved along with our native plant communities or in concert with out local wildlife or other conditions, and so they wreak havoc on the inner workings of local habitats. Many of these plants seem to thrive in their new homes, as they hav practically no natural controls to keep them in check.
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| While this yellow bloom may look nice - and undoubtedly it adds a nice pop of color in its native land, this Creeping Buttercup (Rananculus repens) has ranged beyond its historical borders and spread aggressively as an invasive plant in the United States. Photo Copyright Daniel E. Levenson 2022. |
Unlike some of the naturalized plants which remain reasonably in place and at least have the decency to provide shelter for birds and bugs, these alien invasive have few redeeming qualities in comparison. Whether artifacts of ornamental imports or stowaways from the dawn of global shipping, the Japanese Knotweed, Oriental Bittersweet and Garlic Mustard I regularly try to eradicate often defy my best efforts. In fact, part of me wonders, as I remove patches of grass and hack away at the rhodedendrons to make more room for the Silky Dogwood that entered the earth as a bare root plant last fall, whether I’m disturbing the soil and inviting in the poison ivy (native, but not near the house, thank you very much) and its more noxious compatriots into new parts of the yard.
Nonetheless, I shall continue to pull them up.
The more time I spend on this aspect of rewinding the more I realize how little all of us - myself included - often know about our native plant communities, and frankly lack the ability to really understand the roles that different plants play. Such ignorance often leads to all sorts of wrong-headed thinking.
The concept of “weeds” is a good example - what we might think of as “weeds” are often in fact native plants which may have lacked agricultural value or appeared “untidy” to the modern gardener. Ironically, many people are quick to mow down (literally and figuratively) the native plants that will help to improve their soil and the overall quality of their immediate natural environment, believing that they are making their yard “better.” Then, in place of these plants which have evolved over millennia to thrive in concert with their fellow native flora and fauna, many people are quick to lay down hyper-thirsty grasses which are ill-suited to our suburban lawns. To the ignorant eye these acres of yard may look nice, but in reality they are often utterly devoid of life, true wastelands.
On a positive note, however, I have found that when I’ve made space for these native plants they often find their way back, springing up where undoubtedly their ancestors once stood tall in the sun. Human intervention is admittedly helpful in order to have these returning plants thrive. I’ve spent my share of time clipping bindweed that’s wrapped itself around the Bee Balm, or pulling up cinquefoil that’s edging its way a bit too close for comfort around the Swamp Milkweed in the back pollinator garden. One of my favorite plants that popped up during the first summer was American Pokewood, a thick green stock with lovely purple berries that is toxic for mammals but a critical food source for migrating birds in the fall. Along the edge of the house wild raspberries have also lifted themselves up from the soil, and I’m hopeful that even if we don’t get to enjoy the fruit, the local wildlife will.
This is of course part of the thrill of this endeavor, first we see what native plants might return on their own or thrive when planted in the right spot, sunny or shady, damp or dry, according to their preference. And once the plants begin to thrive the pollinators take notice, drawing in the butterflies, moths, flies and hummingbirds which bring life back into this space that was once a patch of grass.
Copyright Daniel E. Levenson 2022.
