Those Who Thrive Where Others Fail

They are the overlooked. The ignored, the downtrodden and the unwanted. In the wrong place at the wrong time (is there ever a right place and a right time?). When they do gain attention, it is usually an exasperated sigh at the "overgrown weeds" or a judgmental shake of the head at an unkempt lawn.

But really. Look at them out there, in the blazing sun, growing out of parched, poor-quality soil. Sometimes sprouting from cracks in the sidewalk. No need for semi-daily waterings, fertilizings, herbicidings, insecticidings, and other babying. Not for these rugged individualists! Give them a week or two to get started, and they're off and running: growing, flowering, and setting seed before you can gas up the lawnmower. 

Many are non-natives, introduced as forage or for erosion control, or stowed away among some less assertive plant materials. Some are natives, able to hold their own in the harsh environment of weedy lots, urban sidewalks, and points in between. Some may pass judgment on the "invasives", with good reason. But many of them grow where other plants fear to tread, and can act as pioneers on a hostile landscape.

When you are walking around sunny neighborhoods and yards that haven't been coddled, take a moment to notice these subtle, scrappy survivors.

Prickly Lettuce (Lactuca serriola), a non-native. Clouds of small, light-yellow flowers float on branching stems several feet tall. The leaves have a line of fierce-looking spikes on the underside.

Velvetleaf (Abutilon theophrasti), a rather pervasive non-native whose seeds can germinate after 20 years of dormancy. The seed pods are interesting and distinctive, and the large, soft leaves may find consideration in the event of another toilet paper shortage.

Horseweed (Conyza canadensis) is a tall native topped with a plume of uninspiring flowers. The narrow leaves arranged around the stem can look a bit like the more flamboyant Liatris, but the inflorescence at the top is very different.

Alfalfa (Medicago sativa), one of those plants introduced as forage that has proved to be highly successful once it escapes the confines of cultivation. It avoids the bad reputation of some of its fellow non-natives by keeping to the poorer-quality areas and not usually crowding out desirable native plants.

Prostrate or Spotted Spurge (Chamaesyce maculata/Euphorbia maculata) is a mat-forming native that can spread over the edge of a sidewalk or curb from its central root. Tiny flowers can be found near the leaves along the stems.

Another low-growing native plant with subtle flowers is Prostrate Vervain (Verbena bracteata). Its inflorescence is a spike up to 6" long, with bracts the length of the spike and tiny purple flowers near the tip.

From the Depths

Walking along the Greenway after a heavy rain, one may be turned back at the snail crossing by an inch or so of water flowing over the trail. If it isn't too deep, or

if you have footwear that isn't easily waterlogged, it can be a small treat to wade in and examine some of the aquatic denizens that are normally hidden from view beneath watery surfaces. 

Easiest to see, and fairly common, are the small aquatic snails with their smooth, rounded shells sometimes humped above the surface, water rippling as it passes around them. Occasionally one will lose its footing (so to speak) and tumble away with the current. The tiny lives are subtle and easy to overlook; careless pedestrians may not notice anything beyond the slight crunch as they pass.

Assorted creepy-crawlies lurk below the surface, invertebrates that are hard to capture in photos (particularly with my reluctance to physically disturb them to get a better shot!): flatwormy creatures and I'm pretty sure a leech or two. 

One exciting day revealed a crayfish scuttling along the trail. I wondered which side of the trail it came from, where it normally spends its time, where it retreats as the water recedes? 

And there--is that an aquatic isopod? Relative of those endearing terrestrial roly-polies found in cool, damp places under rocks and flowerpots. Isopods are crustaceans, like crayfish, and both aquatic and terrestrial versions breathe through gills.

So the next time the trail seems to be impassable due to a miniature flood event, take the opportunity to visit with those creatures of the depths (relatively speaking) who don't often make an appearance on the Greenway.

 

My Own Mini Greenway

My garden is a mess. I'm fine with it.

Inspired by the Greenway and the diversity of plants found there, I determined to create my own little patch of native greenery in my backyard, to support the bees, birds, butterflies, and other wildlife that had been displaced by housing developments. Amid a sea of turfgrass, I painstakingly dug out a 6' x 9' rectangle and planted twelve haphazardly-chosen native forbs and grasses in a sloppy grid (no designer me, I was more interested in each plant as a specimen rather than a player in a harmonious symphony of color, scent, and texture). There was a clump of Big Bluestem, and Butterfly Milkweed in the front corner. Wild Bergamot, Culver's Root, a couple of "nativars" selected before I understood the difference between them and their wild counterparts.

The following year I replicated the rectangle with a new set of plants, and again the following year. Now I have a long, rectangular strip of a mini-semi-prairie. It's a little weedy, and very overgrown (let's just say my estimation of space requirements for individual plants was optimistic). Some plants have thrived and spread: the Gray-headed Coneflower gets a pass for being my favorite, but the Compass Plant has been making some moves as well, since establishing itself. The Wild Bergamot, on the other hand, lives up to its reputation as a rapidly-spreading mint and is "contained" with extreme prejudice.

Every week or so I will desultorily pull some less-welcome plants from the garden area: clover and crabgrass, and many of the volunteer seedlings that threaten to crown out some of the more dainty specimens. I will cut back some of the stems of Ironweed or Queen of the Prairie that are getting too close to their neighbors for comfort. But for the most part I let it be.

It was not planned for year-round color or beauty, though I try to plant flowers that will bloom throughout the growing season for early and late pollinators. There is no rhyme or reason to color or placement; it's a jumble. But I love it.

I love to circle the garden and listen to the buzz of activity as the bees and wasps circle endlessly around whatever flowers are most tantalizing that day. I love catching the occasional skipper on the Liatris, or following the Monarch from milkweed to milkweed as she lays her eggs, sometimes swooping toward a different plant with similar leaves before quickly rerouting. I love finding the Camouflaged Loopers on the Coneflowers (and on the Rattlesnake Master this year!), and so, so many different kinds of bees.

I love to think of my yard as a welcoming place, an area that I am happy to share with other living things. So much of our culture's "perfect" yard is the result of driving out any life except our own; an intolerance for sharing "our" space with anything else. What a sad and cramped world that seems!