The Journey So Far

A little more than a year ago, our first native plants went in.  Since then as you probably already know, we've decided to totally replace all our landscaping with native plants.  This endeavor still seems overwhelming as I walk through our suburban residential lot and see all the non natives that remain.  Two months ago, as I started to write about all the things I've learned, I got a painful attack of writer's block.  (Don't worry - the doctor said it's not contagious.)   With every new thing I learned, I discovered twelve more related things I wanted to know.  The list of lessons is pretty darn large now.  So I'm just highlighting three major lessons from the year.

Common Blue Eyed
 Grass

PATIENCE
First is patience. Actually I haven't learned patience. I've learned I need patience. (Lord, give me patience, and do it right now!) Some of our first plants were young native prairie plants. They evolved long ago to suit the environment they lived in. These guys become deep rooted, often 15 feet or more to help create the water reservoirs and drainage routes necessary for a healthy environment.. They also take time to get established. I guess that's one of the reasons they are so susceptible to the aggressive nature of non-native invasive plants. The tiny Little Blue-Eyed Grass plugs that worked all last year to get established showed us their stuff this spring with striking, yet delicate blue flowers.  On the other hand, the Prairie Smoke I wrote about last year has grown several times larger than the dime I originally compared it to. However working through this year's drought it continued to push those roots down. It did try to bloom and show the smoke like fruit but the heat and dryness kept it focused on drilling deeper. 


Just one load of Honeysuckle
removed from our backyard
in one day

INVASIVE PLANTS
I've also learned how important it is to stay on top of invasive plant removal. Last year I was more diligent than ever in pulling every Garlic Mustard, Honeysuckle, Buckthorn, and Multi Flora Rose we found. This spring's generous display of woodland wildflowers showed us the effort was worthwhile. The gentle slopes of our woodland ravine were filled with Trout Lily, Spring Beauty, Spring Cress, Cut Leaf Toothwort, Rue Anemone, and Jacob's Ladder. These displays were followed by Wild Geranium, Virginia Waterleaf, Round leaf Ragwort, and May Apple.  

Early Trout Lily nestled at base of decaying log

WEB OF LIFE
Most importantly, I've learned native plants are a critical part of the great web of life to which we all belong.   All life depends on plants.  All animals either eat plants directly or eat creatures that eat them.  By far, the largest group of these animals is insects.  As Doug Tallamy teaches in his book, "Bringing Nature Home", insects can only eat the plants they evolved with - native plants.  Without insects flowers wouldn't turn into fruit, birds would have nothing to feed their young, and if we existed at all, the world would be a pretty uninspiring place.  A great example of this dependence is the Monarch Butterfly.  It has to have Milkweed in order to survive.  The female Monarch only lays her eggs on this group of plants.  When these eggs hatch, milkweed is the only food the caterpillars can eat.  Simple:  No Milkweed, no Monarch Butterflies.  With the wholesale eradication of Milkweed plants, this stunning creature is in real danger of becoming only a memory.  So if you want Monarchs to survive, plant some Milkweed in your yard.  The Milkweed we planted last year has produced multiple generations of Monarchs this season while it also provided nectar for many other pollinators and food for scads of other creatures.  As the natural landscaping organization Wild Ones says, we are "Healing the Earth one Yard at Time."  I think we see this healing going on in our own yard.  In just one year's time, we've realized more wildflowers, birds, and butterflies, lower water bills, and life somehow seems more interesting and serene. 


Newly emerged Monarch

(Here's a five second video of a Giant Swallowtail nectaring on one of our Swamp Milkweeds.  http://youtu.be/KEyxOmU3BIc  Three different generations of Monarch used this one plant on which to lay their eggs.  The eggs hatched into very tiny caterpillars.  These young creatures ate the leaves, molting 4 times while they outgrew their skins.  Eventually the caterpillars matured, formed a chrysalis, and later miraculously emerged as Monarch butterflies.  Today I found another egg on this plant.  In about 28 days a butterfly that started as this egg will  hopefully survive and migrate the 3,000 miles to Mexico for the winter.  If you listen carefully, you can hear birds in the background. )

The First Signs

Jacob's Ladder trying to bloom early

As in many parts of the country, we haven’t had much of a winter.  I kept waiting for it to hit, but temperatures had moved into the 50’s during the day, even hit 75 one day.  Signs of spring (or maybe summer) are everywhere.  Do I take down the driveway markers that show where we can drive without running over the first native beds put in last year?  When I found a Jacob’s Ladder in the side yard trying to bloom last month, I was certain the weather would return to normal and frost and a foot of snow would kill the blooms for this year.  But that hasn’t happened and the little fellow looks raring to go.

This is my first spring with awareness of native plants.   As I walk around the yard I feel like a young kid who was promised a pony for his birthday.  Will I really get it?  I’m starting to see signs that the promise Mother Nature made is really going to come true.  The 4” sprout from the “dead” Eastern Wahooo last year’s fame, is budding up.  The floor of the back yard woodlands, well lit without any leaves yet on the trees, is starting to green up with small plants. 

The tiny little Blue Eyed Grass seedlings are starting to send up small green shoots.  The Prairie Smoke, last year looking so insignificant in its first year while it focused on drilling roots deep into the soil, is definitely showing some vigor.  Will it have built its foundation enough last year that it’ll bloom this season? 

Small Virginia Mountain Mint seedlings are making themselves known where last year’s first native bed went in.  In the same area, the Smooth Asters start to spread out leaves from the prior year’s base.  The mulch is all gone from this planting area now, and many, many weeds are starting to sprout.  I won’t use chemicals this year, so I spend some time trying to get as much of this chickweed, and small green onion like plants pulled up by their roots.  I have to be careful I don’t mistake the seedlings from last year’s native plants as weeds.  So I’ll error on the side of caution until I develop a discerning eye to tell the difference.

The Eastern Red Columbine seeds sowed and sprouted last year have turned into healthy looking, albeit small sirens of future flowers. 

Bloodroot emerging

Every day I’ve looked for the Bloodroot to start emerging.  And there it is.  Just last week, a small thumb sized protuberance poked above the ground.   Then the next day there were many.  And then they continued to reach up, now 2 inches tall.  The cloak protecting their flowers remained tightly wrapped around the prize inside.  On one morning, I carefully photographed the camouflaged stalk.  In the afternoon I carried some water to the tree removal crew.  They were diligently removing four more dead Ash trees, and the Norway Maple #2, the dreaded Norway Maple.  Hey, what’s that!  My gosh, one of the Bloodroot is blooming.  Can that be right?  Several hours earlier, it looked days away from show time, and now - Shazam.  Later in the afternoon, there were many blooms.  And now only two more days have gone by, and WOW! 

 In the backyard I find another surprise.  There are several clumps of Bloodroot blooming where I knew I didn’t plant any.  A little research on this stunning plant disclosed an interesting fact.  The Bloodroot seeds have a small fat-rich appendage.  Ants cherish this “eliasome” and eagerly transport this and the attached seed into their tunnels.  They don’t’ eat the seed, but feast on the fleshy attachment.   Here in the ants’ tunnel the seed is protected and eventually sprouts.   This is a terrific way for the plant to spread beyond its immediate parent.    That’s how we end up with free Bloodroot plants around the yard.   Nice job ants.

group of Bloodroot in full bloom

Later in the day I had a visit from my mentor who wanted to show her friend what a natural population of Bloodroot looked like.  She quickly noted that there were many native bees actively pollinating the Bloodroot flowers.  After they left, I went about trying to get a good photo of these bees.  Kneeling for a half hour trying to capture this activity on film, I noticed that there were some brilliantly colored daffodils immediately to my left.  (Yes, I know.  They aren’t native.  My better half says they are staying.  Hmmm.   I haven’t figured out how to get around this constraint yet.)  Anyway, these daffodils had absolutely no visitors.  Not one, Nada.  In fact, there was a small group of Bloodroot nestled into a small clearing in the daffodils.  The bees were eager to get the Bloodroot nectar but had no interest in even stopping to look at the daffodils.  What an excellent example of what we’ve been learning.  Native plants support wildlife and non-native plants don’t.

Bloodroot Flowers

So here we have stinger less native bees pollinating the flowers and ants farming the Bloodroot, making sure they spread.    I certainly am glad we stopped the bug service from spraying outside the house. 

These flowers will only last about a week before the leaves unfurl.  The leaves will then spread out to carpet the area.  (The banner on this entire blog is a picture of Bloodroot in the summer taken here last year.) 

My greatest joy now is understanding this is all entirely natural, adding to the biodiversity of our ecosystems, rather than constraining and diminishing them.