The Weeds Beckon

Trey Smith

Knowing that we won't be living in this house much longer, I had intended to let our front garden go to seed, so to speak. Though I have spent a good deal of time over these past 6 years trying to rid the yard of water-guzzling grasses and weeds and replacing these foreign species with native plants, I have little confidence that the next owners of this property will retain the yard's distinct look and feel.

Why do I say this? When we sold our home in Salem, one of the very first things the new owner undertook was to rip out all the planted native species to replace them with good ol' All-American grass. The yard today around that house looks no different than every other house on its block! Let's hear it for blanket conformity!!

Anyhow, I wasn't planning to do any work in the garden this spring...but the weeds beckon. Yes, all those native plants will probably be gone by next spring, but they are here now. So am I. Since we're both still here, I've decided to weed like I have done every year. And I will continue to do it until we move.

As I wrote a year or two ago, I am THANKFUL for the weeds. If they did not keep springing up, I probably wouldn't spend half as much time in my garden as I do. So, rather than get annoyed at these invaders, I commend them. They insure that I enjoy my garden as much as possible.

One other note. Our strawberry plants -- several hundred -- are flowering like crazy. This is a good indication that we will have a bumper crop this year. As Della remarked, I sure hope we aren't gone before the crop comes in! We love fresh strawberries. If we are gone, at least I hope our soon-to-be former neighbors -- human and otherwise -- don't allow all those plump berries to go to waste.

A Season Ebbs

Trey Smith

Autumn is just around the corner. I know this without looking at a calendar. All I have to do is to look in my garden.

The salmonberry bush, which was once full of berries and green leaves, is now devoid of berries and the leaves are turning brown. The flowers of the cinquefoil are becoming less numerous and these plants are beginning to lose their suppleness. The leaves of the sword ferns are dying off and new fronds are replacing them. It seems that in many areas of the garden several of the plants are shifting from the vibrant colors of summer to the more understated colors of fall.

In another month or so, the process will be complete, except for those plants that stay green all year round.

As I watch some of the annuals die, I wonder: Will they go to heaven? For most people, that's a stupid question. Only humans -- and particular humans at that -- have their ticket punched for paradise. Plants, animals and other non-human life forms simply die. End of story.

As I sit in my garden, I wonder why people seem to think human death would be different than any other being. Since all life forms on this planet are made up of the same basic elements, it would make far more sense to think that death for a flower or a person would encompass much the same thing.

If you believe that people can go to heaven, why not a cinquefoil or your pet hamster? What is it that is so special about humans that we would not follow the basic blueprint of life slipping into death?

If you believe in a god and this god made all life -- every living thing -- then an element of this god is housed individually in all of creation.

If you believe that humans possess souls, then why shouldn't every other being possess one likewise?

A Blue, Blue Thursday

Trey Smith

On Thursday, Della and I got to partake in an annual event around here. We headed out to the Smith Creek Blueberry Farm for an afternoon spent picking -- what could it be? -- blueberries! In about two hours time, we collected almost 8 pounds of the succulent and healthful berries. Best of all, it cost us less than $15.00. By way of comparison, a dinky pint of non-organic blueberries at the grocery costs $3 - $4!!

I love little farms like the one on Smith Creek (about 6 miles north of Raymond). Because they adamantly refuse to use any pesticides, you are encouraged to eat a few as you go. Naturally, we obliged this unwritten rule and our taste buds thanked us greatly.

Not only do we try to get out there every summer for the plump berries, but the ambiance of this little farm is amazing. They have a bunch of free range chickens that spend their days in and amongst the 200 or so blueberry bushes. You have to be mindful of where you step, lest you step on a little chick scurrying about.

They also have an assortment of other critters: 2 dogs, 5 cats, 6 ducks, several turkeys and a donkey. This year we discovered that they have added a new creature to their brood: a large tortoise. I would estimate it weighs in the neighborhood of 30 or 40 pounds. Like the others, you have to be careful where you step or, as I found on Thursday, you might step on the tortoise!

The farm is off the beaten path down a side road that disappears into the hills. When I took a break from berry picking, I sat on an old picnic table soaking in the atmosphere. Except for a stray car every once in a while, about all you can hear is the rush of the wind and the sounds of nature. Even though we don't live in the big city and our small hamlet generally grows quiet after dark, it was very refreshing to soak in the sun's rays while not having to hear the noise of fast-paced society.

Yes, I experienced a blue, blue Thursday and I can't wait to be that blue again!

Sitting in the Garden

Trey Smith

With almost no grass left in our "front yard," the landscape is now nearing completion as a garden of native plants. (The next project is to enlarge the area by taking out the grass from the side yard.) It is nice not having to mow the "front yard" -- now I sit in it!

I'm sure my nearest neighbors probably view this activity as odd. They certainly don't idly sit in their front yards! But it's different went your lawn becomes a garden.

I sit in the early morning hours. Sometimes, when the temperature is moderate, I sit in the garden during the middle of the day. I often sit there towards dusk. Every now and then, I talk to the plants and I marvel at how several varieties have propagated themselves all over the place.

I watch the hummingbirds slurp out nectar from the flowers. I watch the bees as they make their daily rounds. I can become fixated on ants, worms, beetles or spiders as they traverse their way through the luscious landscape. And, of course, I'm always on the lookout for the weeds that pop up here and there. ;-)

Sitting quietly in the garden helps to remind me of the connection of all things. It helps to remind me that each being and each form has a life to live, one controlled by the cycles of the seasons and the Grand Mystery itself.

When I sometimes ask the question that all humans entertain at some point -- What is my purpose? -- I look to my garden for the answer: The purpose of life is to live and die. Some folks might view this as a hollow or pointless purpose, but it's hard to feel that way when sitting in a garden.

The Neighborhood Luddite

Trey Smith

I'm fairly sure my neighbors consider me a Luddite. I am creating a vegetable garden spot without the aid of any machines. The most sophisticated tool being utilized is a Garden Weasel and the only reason I'm using it has to do with my physical issues re my left hip and back.

Most of the time, I have used nothing fancier than a hand trowel! Sure, a rototiller would allow me to get the job done in an hour or two, but I figure, What's the rush? This gives me a project and, besides, I like playing in the dirt! Who knows what past species or civilizations pass through my fingers as I loosen the dirt with my hands?

Part of the reason I have chosen to eschew a rototiller is that we Americans have grown too accustomed to convenience. Most of our mechanized contraptions are pollution machines. To save an hour or a day of work, we willingly spew all sorts of pollutants into the environment. I have the time, so why add to the problem?

In comparison to my more labor-intensive methods, my neighbors utilize almost every lawn and garden machine that comes on the market. Instead of raking leaves, they use a leaf blower. Instead of sweeping the sidewalk, they use a gas-powered air compressor. Instead of washing their vehicles by hand, they use a high-powered pressure washer. I'm beginning to wonder if they have a machines to wipe their butts and pick their noses!

It's All About Me

Trey Smith

Saturday represented only the second day so far this month in which there wasn't significant rainfall. We enjoyed partly cloudy skies with our high reaching 62 degrees! I took advantage of the nice weather by getting out in the garden to continue my project of digging up sod.

This activity continues to puzzle my neighbors. Though I have explained to them WHY I have chosen this labor-intensive method, they still offer their "helpful" suggestions. The number one suggestion always has something to do with one herbicide or another.

"If you use x, you could accomplish your goals so much quicker and easily" is the common refrain. I don't work and I don't socialize much, so I need projects to occupy my time. Getting out in the garden and working with the soil seems like a great way to enjoy the outdoors. And while the tack I have chosen is not the easiest, who ever said the easiest route is the best?

The answer to that question is America's chemical companies. That's the message they've been spreading for years! Your time is valuable, they tell us, so we've created products that will allow you to get the job done in no time at all. Don't worry about the costs to the environment or the health of yourself or your community. Your time is all that matters.

This message plays well in America and our capitalist society because we've been taught to believe that life is all about ourselves -- the world of me. My time is more valuable than anyone else's time. My efforts are more important than anyone else's efforts. My happiness is more essential than anyone else's happiness.

By focusing chiefly on our own desires, it becomes very easy to discount how our actions might negatively impact someone else. Why should we care about others anyway? They are focusing on satisfying their own desires too. Their decisions could just as easily have a negative impact on me, so I need to insure that I'm at the head of the line.

One of the key points of capitalism is that the public interest is best served when we each pursue our own self-interests. Supposedly these equal levels of self-interest will balance each other out and the economic interests of all will increase. Whether you believe this axiom is true or, like me, you think it represents a big, fat lie, I think we should be able to agree that one of the pillars of this theory is born of selfishness.

If we are at all honest, that's what self-interest is. It's just a more benign way of phrasing it. When your number one goal in life supposedly is protecting your own self-interests, what we have done is to elevate selfishness to a virtue!

And so, if I chose to behave in a selfish manner, I would use one or more of the various herbicides on the market to kill my grass. It would save MY precious time and money. Few people would give me any grief over this decision.

Yet, by choosing to be unselfish -- to give consideration for how the use of herbicides will negatively impact the planet and the life forms who call it home -- my neighbors act as if I'm an alien from outer space! They look at me like I'm some aging hippie trying to spread peace and universal love.

It blows my mind.

The Tree

Trey Smith

I am facing a bit of a dilemma. During our latest storm, the wax myrtle we planted in our front garden was toppled. The trunk looks like it was sawed off and only two roots are left firmly in the ground.

When I discovered it had fallen yesterday morning, my first thought was to try to save it. I moved it back to an upright position and packed dirt and leaves at its base. I then drove a stake deep into the ground just behind it and, using some rope, I tied the tree to the stake. My thinking here is that, since two strong roots are still firmly in the soil, maybe the plant could re-establish itself.

Another storm -- as fierce as the last one -- is due later today. Part of me wants to get a second stake in the ground to provide greater stability. Another part of me, however, thinks I should allow this little tree to live or die on its own. Put another way, I should allow the forces of yin and yang to do their thing.

If the tree is able to survive and re-establish itself, all is well. If the tree succumbs to the storm, all is well too. Whether it lives or dies, it will provide. If it lives on, it will provide nutrients to the soil and shade for other plants and critters. If it dies, it will decompose and provide the necessary elements for new life.

Of course, I may try to do everything possible to save it and yet the little tree may not make it anyway or I could leave it be and, despite today's storm and the previous injury, it could end up flourishing.

Hmmm.

How Dry I Am

Summers in South Bend are not like those in most environs in the continental US. Where other locations see frequent high temperatures in the 80s, 90s or higher, our average high barely sticks its head above 70! June can be quite cool and sometimes downright cold. Our summer period lasts from mid-July through Mid-September AT MOST.

During this 2 month or less respite, we typically receive only 3 inches of rain. We receive over 95% of our annual 84 - 120 inches of precipitation in the other 10 months of the year.

This summer, however, has been atypical. In the past 6 weeks, we have received less than 1/3 of an inch of rain and there is no mention of rain in our present 7-day forecast. Long time locals tell me that exceedingly dry summer periods like this one only come around about once every 25 years.

With the above information as a backdrop, I want to share some information about the differing watering patterns of two homes on our block: ours and our next door neighbors. Over the past 4 weeks or so -- when they are home -- hardly a day goes by when Brenda or Todd is not out watering their flowers and shrubs in the evening.

Almost every evening they give their garden and hanging plants a good soaking. Once, when the family went out-of-town for 3 days, their plants started to stress out mightily. Upon arriving home, one of the first things Brenda did was to get out the hose to water those plants.

During this same period, I have watered our large garden twice. Both times it was a very superficial watering -- nothing got soaked. If truth be known, I probably could have easily skipped these two waterings spaced three weeks apart.

Here's the interesting part. Our flowering plants and shrubs look just as colorful and healthy as our neighbor's plants do.

The reason they have to water like crazy (I'm glad I don't have to pay their water bill!) and I don't is because their plants are non-natives. The plants on our property are acclimated to our climate. While this summer has been atypical, it is not abnormal. Native plants are more able to withstand drought conditions in southwest Washington because its part of their DNA.

And so, while our neighbors have spent far less time on the front end setting up their garden, they are forced to spend far more time on the back end keeping those plants properly hydrated. For me, the set-up is the exact opposite. I spend vastly more time prepping and planting, but, once each plant is established, there is little for me to do other than occasional weeding.

Sweat of Me Brow

Have you ever felt so worn out that you couldn't muster the energy to sleep? If so, you know how I felt early this afternoon. After yesterday's all-day excursion, my plan for today was to lay around and recoup. I do feel a bit rejuvenated now, but after a good deal of honest sweat.

The fellow who mows our yard agreed to bring us a load of bark mulch to be placed over the next set of tarps (eco-friendly method of killing grass). My plan was to help him unload the mulch, then saunter inside to catch some shuteye. But once the mulch was on the ground in a large pile, I decided to move some of it over to the tarps.

I kept moving bucketfuls of mulch until I realized I was done! The pile had completely disappeared. I am now dirty and sweaty, but I feel much better than I did before. Our "yard" looks a lot better too.

After a much needed shower, I think I will be ready for that nap!

As Sweet as Nectar

For the last 6 weeks or so, the front of our house has resembled the title of one of The Beatles' songs: Strawberry Fields Forever. Over the past 3 or 4 years, we had planted 8 or so woodland strawberry plants and those 8 plants have propagated themselves into about 8 times more. With so many plants now, we have been able to pick buckets of them!

And let me tell ya, almost every one we have picked tastes sweet as nectar. Most, though not all, are smaller than the factory farm strawberries one tends to find at the local grocery store. You just pop one of our native strawberries in your mouth and it tastes almost like pure sugar.

And here's the big point I wish to make. Other than a little weeding and a bit of water from the hose 3 or 4 times each summer during our two dry months, the strawberry plants are on their own to do their own thing. No pesticides are needed. We don't prune them or inhibit them in anyway. They grow according to their own true nature and we reap the free bonanza of flavor.

In late summer and early fall, as the deer begin to reappear on our hill, the leaves of the strawberry plants are eaten, sometimes down to their nubs. We in no way discourage this. We view it that native animals are making use of native plants. Deer have eaten strawberry plants for centuries and we see no reason to interrupt this cycle.

This is but one example of how our Taoist beliefs inform the way we live. Aside from the act of planting the strawberry plants themselves, we get out of the way to let them do their own thing in their own way in their own time.

Urth Day

To illustrate just how with it this enviro tree-hugger is, I didn't even notice that yesterday was Earth Day! There certainly were no events, fairs, clean-ups or celebrations in this part of Washington State. Heck, most folks around here don't even recycle (we do!), so any event of that nature probably wouldn't have been well attended anyway.

Even though I missed out on the commemoration, I still inadvertently did my part. As with several other days this week, I spent a few hours working out in our garden. I celebrated the earth in my own solitary way.

If you remembered that yesterday was Earth Day, did you participate in any group activities?

Real Life Tao - Thank the Dandelions

Years ago, when my wife and I moved into our house in Salem, Oregon, one of our first projects was to rip out the front lawn in order to replace it with native species. Years later, when we moved into our house here in South Bend, we began the process to replicate that plan.

Because we try to lead earth-friendly lives, we have chosen not to kill off our grass through the use of pesticides. Our strategy has been to tarp a few sections of the yard per year, cover the tarps with bark dust and then pull up the tarps 6 - 9 months later. Before raking the bark dust over the mainly barren ground, I slowly and laboriously dig out as my roots as possible.

Once these tasks are completed, I begin the process of planting native species in each newly reclaimed section. Thus far, we have reclaimed about 65% of what use to be the front lawn. We still have a long ways to go to reclaim the totality of the front of our house plus the side yard.

The first year of the current project I became a bit miffed around June as dandelions started popping up all over the place. (Dandelions are resource hogs and, during our 2 - 3 month dry season, they can appropriate the moisture that other plants desperately need to survive.) I had worked so hard to find and dig up as many root systems as possible that I was irritated that these weeds had somehow hung on. I spent several days pulling the dandelions and digging out their roots. That should take care of the problem, I thought to myself.

About one month later, dandelions started popping up all over the place again! A neighbor suggested a certain pesticide to help rid our garden of these pests. No, no, I said. It will probably take the whole summer for me to rid the garden of these weeds. And I did work all summer at digging them up each time they started to proliferate.

The next year I was supremely confident that dandelions were a thing of the past. However, come May or June, they started popping up all over again. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!

This time around though, something dawned on me. The presence of dandelions is what keeps me working in the garden all spring and summer long. If not for them and a few other persistent weeds, I could basically work on my garden in the spring and pretty much let it go of its own accord for the rest of the growing season.

In other words, what I originally viewed as a negative was really a positive for me. The dandelions allow me to work at something I enjoy far more than if they disappeared completely!

This notion is similar to many of the tales and stories of Chuang Tzu. In several chapters, this Taoist sage urges us to be open to different perspectives and not to allow ourselves to be boxed in by preconceived ideas. What at one moment may look like a negative could just as easily be viewed as a positive...in a different light.

This post is part of a series. For an introduction, go here.

By the Side of the Road

Today we trekked to Aberdeen so I can begin the fun process of becoming toothless (dentures on the horizon). As we drove north on Highway 101, we kept noticing the same plant which features a dazzling display of yellow flowers. "Ooh, maybe we could add that to our native garden," my wife suggested. I stopped along the side of the road to get a sample plant -- something we could use with our native plant reference guide.



It turns out that this plant -- Scotch Broom -- will not be finding a home in our garden because it is classified both as a noxious weed AND an invasive species. It seems that it is prevalent along Washington highways because the highway department put it there before realizing how destructive the plant can be.

According to the National Park Service, Scotch broom is a "bad" plant because:

• Scotch broom is a prodigious seed producer. The seeds have hard coats enabling them to survive in the environment for up to 80 years.
• The seeds are transported from place to place in mud stuck to vehicles, equipment, shoes and the feet of animals.
• Seeds may be carried via runoff from roads into streams and gullies. Then seedlings may establish along stream sides and along gully walls.
• Scotch broom forms dense brush fields over six feet tall.
• The brush fields distract from appreciation of the natural landscapes of the Bald Hills prairies.
• The brush fields diminish habitat for grazing animals, such as the native Roosevelt Elk.
• Areas of dense brush shade out and kill native grassland plants in invaded areas, and favor invasion by other woody, non-grassland plant species.
• Scotch broom is a threat to the integrity of the Bald Hills prairie ecosystem.
  

Playing with Dirt

The prototypical American home is one with a lush green lawn and the proverbial white picket fence. We're told that this is what everyone strives for. So, I can certainly understand why our neighbors think we've gone off our nut more than usual. While my neighbors water and weed to keep their yards as green as possible, I sit in my yard day after day digging up the grass!

I know that my job would be made easier if a) I used poison to kill the grass or b) rented a machine that mechanically digs it up. But I have chosen neither method; I use a shovel and my bare hands instead.

Using the shovel, I dig down below the main root level to loosen the root structure. I kind of square off small sections, then I pull the sod up with my hands. It comes out in big chunks of fused grass, roots, soil and rocks. I next do something that must perplex the neighbors -- I sit on my little stool and gently break the soil away from the clump. And I do this slowly clump after clump.

It's a slow and solitary process, but I like slow and solitary pursuits! I like feeling the soil in my hands and under my fingernails. I figure it's the most respectful way to honor the grass I'm ripping up.

At this juncture, about 1/3 of our front yard has been turned into a big pit of dirt. Since we're entering the less rainy period, it will mostly remain dirt and not be transformed into a giant mud pie farm. :) As we reclaim more and more of the area from the non-native grass, we've begun the process of planting native species.

To date, we've planted the following: blue-eyed grass, columbine, camas, a variety of ferns, kinnikinnick, salal, salmonberry, and wild strawberries. It doesn't look like much right now, but by summer's end we hope that many of these plants are firmly established and will have spread through rhizones. As money is available, we will add some more native species.

Next spring we'll remove the tarp from the next section of grass and begin the process all over again. It looks like I'll be playing with the dirt for years and years to come.