The Beginning
This blog germinated after many months of reflection on my 40-plus years of work in the landscape. Clearly, the most fundamental and compelling changes that occurred during those years were all informed by an evolved understanding of my relationship with nature. The first of these changes came in mid-course, about 20 years ago, when I recognized that getting control of nature is typically the first step — and by far the most time- and energy-consuming act — of gardening. Getting control of nature dominates the entire opening chapter of most gardens; then, chapter by chapter, paragraph by paragraph, this theme reappears throughout the story. It’s mowing, trimming, edging, raking, pruning, weeding, and for some, spraying chemicals to keep nature in check. It’s literally keeping nature from happening.
The remainder of garden work is mostly our attempt to supplement — with nursery plants, hose water, fertilizer and various forms of processed mulch — what we think nature does not seem to provide. I say ‘seem’ because nature is always providing. When leaves fall, it is nature providing, but we rake them up. When branches fall, it is nature providing, but we pick them up. When weeds come, it is nature providing, but we pull them out. Is that not so? Is not most garden work a rejection and removal of nature’s provisions?
In late fall 2014, I reluctantly bought a home on a 2.5 acre property in Flintstone, Georgia. I was hesitant to buy this particular property because it needed so much work. After five months of searching, though, it was the only one I found that had all of the things I thought I must have. I bought it. It was a busy time, but knowing that gardens are years in the making, and wanting the garden to be an example garden for others to see, I started on the landscape restoration early the following spring. At the time I was full of energy, and full of myself, but I quickly learned through trial, error — and exhaustion — the limits of what I could do.
The house is set fittingly on the property; and its environs, lying near the foot of Lookout Mountain, are for the most part quite beautiful. The Mountain serves as a lofty backdrop for sunsets that offer mellow candescent light and long deep shadows at the end of sunlit days. Towering Loblolly pine trees and a mix of maturing hardwood trees edge the property giving height and breadth to the landscape. One can feel the makings of a special place here. Aside from the trees, however, there was little plant life for founding a native landscape. The pine and hardwood understory was overgrown with invasive* shrubs and trees: Chinese Privet, Bush Honeysuckle, Autumn Olive and Mimosa Tree. Twining around, through and over them were exotic* (non-native) vines including Vinca, Wintercreeper Euonymus, Japanese Honeysuckle and English Ivy. I knew that clearing and managing these overgrown areas would be a challenge, and I was prepared to work on them as time allowed. I was in complete denial, though, about what I, as a native landscaper, might do with the rest of the property.
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| Front Lawn, April 12, 2015 |
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| Back Lawn, April 12, 2015 |
The remaining two acres was lawn, with two large Bradford Pears and a sprinkling of Crape Myrtles in the mown areas, and a patchwork of exotic shrubs around the house. Bermudagrass and Zoysiagrass prevailed in the lawn, but it was also home to many of the major lawn weeds that frequent the Southern landscape. (This is where the denial comes in.) When buying the property, my notion of invasive plants did not include the lawn. Naively, this notion separated lawns from invasive plants, as if they do not reside in the same place. We mow the lawn, which is one place; we remove invasive plants from our natural areas and gardens, which is another place.
I suspect the idea of control was underlying this reasoning. If we conceive of invasive plants as wild and out of control, but we are controlling the lawn through repeated mowing, how can a lawn contain invasive plants? The answer is that while a lawn may look like it’s under control, it never is. In just a very short time, my weed-infested lawn found its way into every new native planting I sought to establish. It took a few years for me acknowledge what was happening, but eventually I accepted that the seemingly benign lawn was indeed 2 acres of creeping and leaping invasive plants. This was not a pleasant awakening. What does one do with a 2-acre plot of invasive lawn plants, edged by pine and hardwood trees that are themselves under-grown with a tangle of other invasive plants?
I am five years in on this engagement. I have not entirely resolved the question, but I am now working on it with more humility than ever. With that humility, I have been able to accept that I can’t possibly control everything. I have to Let Nature Happen. This blog is the story of how that’s happening.