Over the past two years of this journey, I’ve come to
hate lawns. We live in a suburban
neighborhood with great expanses of turf.
I’ve learned these green spaces I once thought the
epitome of good
suburban landscaping are in fact, an ecological wasteland, often the source of much air
and water pollution, and a huge waste of the opportunity to do good with the land. So I’ve wanted to rip out the front lawn and
put in a native wildflower meadow. But my
wife was concerned the neighborhood would complain about a wild looking garden
and see it as a weed patch. She was
adamant; no front yard meadow for me. So we compromised
and struck a bargain. This would be an
experiment. I could put in a small
butterfly/pollinator garden in the front near the street, bordering our
neighbor’s yard. If I would agree to
deadhead the plants and keep things looking tidy and formal, she would go along
with a trial. If successful, then I could
create a larger butterfly garden on the other side of the driveway eliminating
more lawn. Fully understanding it might
take three years for the plants to get established, and experimenting with
different ways to make this a formal garden that met her appearance criteria,
we struck the deal.
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| Front lawn |
Late last summer I carved out an area approximately 13 feet
x 8 feet set back about 5 feet off the road and bordering our neighbor’s front
yard. With a desire to create as much
biodiversity as
possible and having something blooming throughout the growing
season, I bought 13 species of native perennials suitable to the clay soil and
partial shade of the site. To save money
I bought plugs, the smallest size of plant.
Two of these, Purple coneflower and Smooth aster were already growing in
an adjoining area. So the idea was that
these two would extend down into the new garden helping to tie the two areas together.
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| Fall 2012 new butterfly garden |
The late summer morphed into fall. As was expected from first year seedlings,
none of the new plants bloomed. Fall
came and headed for winter. Then winter
came and off and on covered the plot with snow.
When spring made itself known, the seedlings showed they had taken last
year to set their roots and rewarded me with vigorous growth. They spread out to fill in what looked last
fall like a pretty sparse planting.
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| Foxglove Beardtongue (Penstemon digitalis) |
The Foxglove Beardtongue was the first to bloom. The little towers of light lavender and white
blooms attracted many bees. As those
flowers faded, several transplanted Ohio Spiderwort opened up with a few colorful
blooms. The Purple coneflowers had taken
hold and over several weeks opened into their normal eye-catching display. While they were still blooming the Butterfly milkweed transplants started to show signs of blooming. This species of milkweed with its deep
tuberous root sometimes doesn’t take well to transplanting, but last summer I
thought I’d give it a go anyway. They
did produce a couple of very small blossoms but quickly shed them possibly in
an effort to better establish their roots in the hard clay soil.
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| Sand coreopsis |
The Sand coreopsis burst into a huge splash of yellow. Watching the numerous species of native bees
and other pollinators vigorously working over the flowers was a daily delight
for several weeks. These plants
produced so many blossoms and were so full of life. Nonetheless I became concerned when all
the flower stalks fell over and lay on the ground. They continued to bloom but didn’t help give
the appearance of a nicely tended garden that I needed. Next
the Black –eyed susans opened their bright yellow petals. Those faded pretty quickly and the plants
looked pretty sick. It was only then
that I learned that this species is a fairly short lived perennial. I pondered what to do with the sketchy
looking Black-eyed susans.
Each morning I was eager to check out the garden and see how
it was looking. My early morning visits would flush out a small flock of American goldfinch feasting on the Sand coreopsis seed.
And that’s when trouble began. While I thought the seed heads just looked natural, to
my wife the spent blossoms looked unsightly and she felt the birds had plenty to
eat from the numerous native plants in the backyard. I
struggled with my vow to keep the plants deadheaded. The Purple coneflower blooms had now
also finished and gone to seed. The
Goldfinch and other birds also liked to harvest these little pieces of protein. Several spirited discussions ensued and it
was hard for me to realize my wife was really trying to live up to her side of the
agreement while I was struggling. She
offered to help me cut the seed heads off.
So we did it together. I had to
reluctantly admit that this trimming made the garden look more tended. But ouch! We were losing a part of the benefits these
native plants provide. My wife wasn’t
pleased as I mumbled unhappily during our deadheading sessions.
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| Gray-head coneflower |
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| Wild bergamot |
Now the Gray-head coneflower and Wild bergamot were blooming. And my gosh, I’ve never seen so much life, so
concentrated in one little patch of land.
At least 5 different species of bees, several different butterflies, and
skippers worked over this small but colorful group of plants from morning until
night. Even in the windiest conditions,
I’d see pollinators eagerly harvesting the bounty these native plants provided (1 min video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNNXfPAUg1E). But these plants too went to seed and more “discussions”
ensued. Again my wife had to remind me
of our pact. I harvested some seed to
donate for use in our Wild Ones events and the winter seed swap program. Then begrudgingly I went about cutting off seed
heads. My better half was aggravated and asked why I
was so reluctant to honor our bargain. That
really made me stop and think about
it. I knew the native planting was good
for the pollinators, birds, and the planet and I didn’t want to give up any of
the many benefits these plants provided. At the same time I was also disappointed the
way the garden was looking. It certainly
wasn’t the grand showcase I had imagined.
As I spent time reluctantly removing the dead flower
blossoms per our agreement, I noticed that the Sullivant's milkweed had not done
well at all. The Gray-head coneflower
was flopping over like the coreopsis. The
Virginia Mountain mint was struggling. The
only plant that was truly thriving was the Sneezeweed. In spite of all the life that flocked to the
year old garden, the whole space didn’t look very good. Huh?
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| Sneezeweed |
On my early morning inspections I wear a pair of slip on
boots to get me through the dew laden grass.
One early fall morning I found the Sneezeweed had bloomed
magnificently. The bright yellow flowers
were already alive with the bees and a few butterflies. This plant had grown to about 4 feet tall and
showed no signs of falling over even with the heavy burden of the flowers. As I walked to the edge of the bed bordering
the neighbor’s yard, I heard the sound I hadn’t paid any attention to all
summer long. Squish, Squish,
Squish. Oh my gosh! The ground was soaking wet. What’s going on here? I was puzzled but had to leave for an
appointment and solve this some other time.
The next morning I went out earlier than usual and found the
answer to the soggy ground puzzlement. Apparently all summer long my neighbors
had their underground sprinkler come on for a short time early
every single morning. Yikes! So that’s why the Sneezeweed was so
happy. It really likes moist conditions. That’s why most of the rest of the plants were
not doing well. For the most part all
these were prairie plants with deep root systems, well suited to the dry soil where
they evolved.
OK. Now I’ve got
several problems to solve. Why can’t I
happily tend this garden as my wife and I agreed? After all, it’s better than the ecologically
dead zone that used to be here in this 100 square foot of lawn. Even without the benefit of seed for the
birds, it’s still way better than lawn.
And furthermore, if I meet the tidiness and formal appearance criteria
needed for a continued happy marriage, I get to make a bigger garden on the
other side of the driveway. Even less
lawn, more nature, pollinators, and butterflies. OK.
Now I’ve got my head into the game and vow I’ll spend the time to do
this. The second problem is that I populated this garden mostly with plants that don’t like having wet feet. I can’t get the next door gardener to change his watering regimen. Their lawn’s roots are only a couple inches deep and need a lot of water in the hot dry summers we’ve been having. And they like their lawn green and lush all summer long. I’m not ready to turn this garden back to lawn so I’ll replace the plants with ones that like a lot of moisture.
As I dug out the plants and relocated them to other areas
until I figure out where they should go permanently, I realized I had crammed
way too many species into this small area.
I had gone for biodiversity and placed 14 different types of plants here.
Grudgingly I had to admit there is no
way that would have created the stunning garden that caught the neighborhood’s
attention in a favorable way. With the crowded
species necessarily growing through each other, it was a far way from a formal
design. OK, I’ll limit the new
arrangement to no more than six species.
With a tape measure, paper and pencil I measured and roughly sketched
out a new design.
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| Eastern black swallowtail |
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| The revamped garden awaits next years growth |
I'm frustrated because I'm starting over and have lost a whole year
and a half in developing this garden. But I’ve learned a lot about garden design (I
hope), and something about myself as well.
Now all the new plants are in and I’m enthused about how this should
turn out. Now, dear neighbors, please
don’t turn off your watering system next year.
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