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!