Going HAM on Native Plants
Around the time I turned fifty, I became obsessed with native plants.
(Originally published on Shaken Mama, December 2024)
It quickly became an obsession…
I memorized the Latin names and BONAP's North American Plan Atlas for every species of plant in my yard, and I installed PictureThis on my phone.
Soon, I was tearing out the invasive plants I'd inadvertently allowed to grow, and replacing them with native perennials one by one.
Plus, I started sneaking into other people's yards to scan their gardens with the PictureThis app, in order to see which of their plants were native as well. Luckily, those who caught me enjoyed talking about gardening!
I have pestered patient master gardeners, read countless native gardening books, and I've engaged in semi-heated arguments about the difference between a beneficial but aggressive plant versus an invasive plant.
At this point, I could get annoyed with other people's planting choices. Why wouldn't you plant a pretty oak or black cherry in your big blank yard? Don't you like butterflies? Having grass is basically the same as laying down astroturf, Why don't you rip it out and put in something awesome?
Rather than getting frustrated with other people's yards though, I've found managing my own native habitat, and in my father's wild property, to be incredibly satisfying.
I can't stop other people from using pesticides or planting dumb burning bush, but I can plant Joe Pye Weed! (Eutochium fistulosum), and couple it with native milkweeds, and my backyard can be a haven for monarch butterflies all summer long!
I can fill my own space with as many pretty native plants as I want, and revel in the way that nature instantly responds.
It's like that line from "Field of Dreams": "If you build it, he will come." I have found this to be true. The black cherry tree I planted in my front yard has become a haven for red-spotted purple butterflies. I felt such a surge of joy when I saw my first red-spotted purple flitting next to it.
My father and I spent many hours last summer removing invasive Multiflora rose from his property, and he and I can both attest that it's a very satisfying form of exercise. And it's glorious, watching the native plants take over those spaces once again.
Recently, my dad brought me with him to a meeting of the local rails-to-trails organization, and I learned that they are planning some pollinator-friendly habitats with native plants, and I found myself volunteering to pitch in. How nice it will be to expand beyond my (increasingly crowded with native plants) yard, and help create a space for others to enjoy.
Then, I discovered that our state has a Master Naturalist program I can complete in the coming years, which would help me learn more about plants, and I can volunteer to help teach others what I've learned. I can't stop going ham on native plants!
But for today, I am thinking small. Very small. I began my first winter sowing project with the tiny seeds of pussytoes (Antennaria Plantaginifolia). If it works, I will have hardy seedlings to add to my little backyard. To me, it's more than a few seeds in an old milk jug under the holly tree in my yard. It's my very own spark of hope.
