Oh Sweet Jesus, I'm aware! I'm aware!
In May 2011, Illinois Governor Quinn declared May to be Invasive Species Awareness Month. Go here for info on what we need to be looking for in Illinois. Here is the national site to research your own area.
As Erin and I were working in the wooded section of my acre this weekend, I was commenting on how Scott and I really didn't think about the actual stewardship responsibilities of having this bit of land when we moved here. We bought our house 13 years ago and it had everything we had dreamed of...water, mature trees, privacy, wildlife. The house itself is just a kind of dorky 1970's raised ranch, but the land is what we came here for.
And goodness were we naive about what that meant.
Over time we came to learn that a good number of those trees which we got so excited about are the ridiculously invasive buckthorn. Those pretty white flowers? Garlic mustard. Those fields of grass around the marsh? Reed Canarygrass. Those huge flowering shrubs? Japanese honeysuckle and wild roses. Every single one of these species is non-native and invasive. (And while poison ivy isn't listed on the invasive species list, I've got plenty of that, too.) In fact, my aliens are so invasive, most are listed as "remove as soon as possible" . How soon is possible? We've lived here 13 years and I'm one woman, and I'm still working on it (with some help from Scott and Erin). And, of course, living near a forest preserve where these things are rampant (not to mention my neighbors' yards) means that I'm always going to have seeds coming over.
And, of course, I love gardening and this is our first home, so we went crazy on this acre when we moved here. Turns out my lemon balm has now escaped. That chameleon plant which seemed so pretty at first and then has been started to get me concerned is, in fact, a no-no and removing it is going to take some patience (but it pulls a lot easier than buckthorn so it will be gratifying to tackle).
The stewardship of this land is a committment I have to keep to for as long as I live here (which I am hoping will be as long as I live). That means every year, every spring, and any time I see something that doesn't need to be here I need to recognize that I am going to have to deal with it. Like a farmer with fields to tend, I'm simply never, ever going to be doing much other than gardening in the month of May. I have a commitment that I have to keep and a responsibility to this land. It's not a simple hobby that I can take or leave. Living here came with a lifestyle attached, and a seasonal rhythm that I have to adhere to. I didn't know that a decade ago.
Am I being overly dramatic about it? Not at all. Even the most cursory read of the devastation invasive species have wrought on our ecology here will tell you this is a very real issue. And I have so much intimate daily contact with so many species I can't be insensitive to what affects them. I notice when populations fluctuate in frog and toad and bird and other species here from year to year. What I do or neglect doing on this acre has real consequences for many animals that reside here. Animals don't just pass through here, they live here, raise young here, and yes, die here. I'm only one resident on this property but the impact I have can affect us all in very significant ways.
Overwhelming? Oh, sure! But an acre is not a mile, it's an acre. Thousands of plants are not millions. And over the years I actually am seeing the benefits of the work. I have some lovely hickories that I started to rescue from the buckthorns years ago and they actually have some height to them now (very slow growing!). You walk through my yard this year and for the first time you feel like you are in a hickory grove (a baby one, but still, you notice how many there are).
I can't eradicate everything that shouldn't be here. And honestly, I have a GORGEOUS huge honeysuckle that I will never chop down. In fact, I have a few buckthorns that I am leaving because, without those buckthorns and honeysuckle, we will lose way too much privacy and I don't have the means to replace those plants with native species right now.
That being said, what I can do is have an attitude of cooperation with nature. I just want to tip the balance in favor of the natives whenever I can. It takes a lot of work and a lot of vigilance. If I insist on keeping a buckthorn, then I need to realize that I am always going to be pulling its seedlings. I may get shade and privacy, but it's also going to mean a lot of work in return. The last couple years that I haven't been able to be as diligent in my own yard did result in a few issues "cropping up" (see what I did there?) but I'm back and slowly but surely we're getting the bad guys cleared, a bit, again.
I do have visions of my Dad's yard in my head, and what happened as he got older and could no longer control the garden monster he had created. When I get too old to be a lumberjack, sawing off tree sized limbs of buckthorn to make room for my hickories, I'm going to have to make some tough decisions. I'm making a few of them now. As I said, I just try to tip the balance...a little cutting back here to make a little more room for a "good guy" there and when the hickory leafs out more then taking down more buckthorn won't be quite as dramatic a loss of shade and privacy. It's a cultivation of space that has already been years in development and will be many more. (Annual plantings are so foreign a concept here!)
And even though I have scratches and bruises in all kinds of places now, the sunshine and exercise and the birds and toads and frogs and butterflies and duckling visits make the work so much lighter.
And, like so many things I am learning this year, I am seeing the stewardship of this land as one of the primary activities of my life. Not a weekend gardener hobby but an actual responsibility that I took on when we moved here, even though I was too naive to realize it at the time.
I thought my life had grown smaller simply because I'm involved in just a few things but I'm realizing the few activities I do engage in: this land stewardship, the care of my home, my writing and my photography, all take a tremendous amount of focused attention. I can't multitask anymore, not because I'm not capable of it, but the demands of what I have chosen to do in my life (even when I wasn't fully cognizant of the implications of my choices) are such that I can't divide my attention and do them justice.
And I'm realizing that is a good thing, even though it has required some mental adjustment and a restructuring of my life. There is something beautiful in having a life that is one big dedicated practice of focus and simplicity. Something very healing in working to heal a plot of land. It isn't a cumbersome chore, the more I reflect on what I am doing with this piece of earth.
Ha...funny what you learn when you write...when I lost my father and Michael (and my cat, and Michael's father, and my father's dog Angel), there was a huge caregiving void in my life.
And as I reconnect with my plot of land here, I'm realizing that may not be isn't true anymore. All that love and care that I poured into them does have some place to go. And because it's the same love and care that once flowed into them, pouring it into this land and these plants and animals...how could there be anything else I would rather do?
And saying this I feel this awareness...that concept of the land as mother, father, brother, sister that you hear expressed by indigenous peoples in various places...caring for the land and other species, literally, as you would a loved one...maybe that depth of connection isn't something inaccessible to a middle-aged white suburban woman.
And with that, I have got to get outside. And you know just what I'll be doing.
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