Native Plants: a plant lover’s evolution
As a landscape designer, I’m often asked by new clients if I use native plants in my designs? And though this may feel like a straightforward question, I rarely seem able to give a simple response. It usually involves some kind of “Yes, but not exclusively”. Or some other version of “Wouldn’t you like to hear my opinion on a very non-consequential topic?” Since ‘native plant’ is something we often hear in the landscape industry, I’ve had plenty of time to contemplate what we possibly mean when we utter such a seemingly simple concept. And it starts by asking some basic questions.
What is a native plant and why should we use them in our gardens? Are native plants easy to garden with? Will they attract wildlife, like birds and bees? Are they easy to grow? Are they low-maintenance? Will I have to water them? The answer to all these questions, depends on how we interpret our environment, and how that interpretation reflects our ideas about nature, culture, and the grey area that inevitably lies in between.
When we talk about plants, what does it mean to call a plant native? It may help to differentiate between different kinds of landscapes, and the outcomes we desire. If we are speaking from a strictly ecological perspective a native plant is an organism that has co-evolved in a particular place with relation to other species that make up an ecosystem, with relatively little human intervention. But this is a very technical definition and one that better applies to areas that are still relatively wild and less affected by human activity. Your backyard, unless you live alongside wilderness, likely does not fall into that category. When we look at what a native plant is from a perspective of an urban dweller, we may expand that definition to what is native to the wider region that shares similar characteristics and climate patterns. This goes beyond the narrow scientific definition, to encompass the cultural and utilitarian. We as humans have shaped the landscapes we live in for as long as we’ve been around. Whether it was the fertile crescent of Mesopotamia or the wetland prairies of the the Willamette Valley, we have manipulated the land to our benefit. Now the consequences of this have been a mixed bag, but that is for another discussion.
One aspect of trying to re-wild land that has been neglected, damaged, or used for purely human benefit, is the awareness that we have upset the natural order of our greater ecological communities. The desire to heal our environment and to contribute to healthier ecologies is steeped in our love and appreciation of the ineffable beauty of the regions we live in. The benefits that come from a walk in a magical moss-covered forest, or a hike to a misty waterfall are beyond anything we can possibly measure, and yet no sane person would doubt their ability to nurture our souls (even if you don’t believe in one). So of course, we want to try and recreate those experiences closer to home. Why wouldn’t we? Well I’m going to give you a few reasons why, and help guide us to a new understanding of the places the lie between wild and urban.
Living in the urban-sphere, as the majority of humanity has migrated to over the last hundred years, we must take into account the realities of our environment. These areas, love them or hate them, need to be reckoned. This is where most of us call home, as much as we dream of living off-grid in a dreamy cabin in the woods, most of us couldn’t go that long without readily available food, social interactions, and let’s face it....wifi.
A native plant doesn’t care what kind of label you give it, so if we are going to define it we should understand the context that it exists in.
An ecological view is one part of the story.
What about horticulture? Where does that fit in? Should we separate that part of the story when we talk about what’s native and what’s not? I think when people think about native plants, it’s a way of nurturing what has been lost. We have removed much of the original fauna and flora, with our roads and houses and backyards, but we need to be mindful of the complete story, not just one piece of it.
To save us from a pit of complexity, let us differentiate between two different kinds of applications. For the sake of this article we will call them Urban Backyard Gardens, and Natural Areas.
Early in my relatively short-lived career as a conservationist, I worked as a field technician tasked to inventory 50 meter plots in various forest types. There was no need to define what a native plant was, as the boundaries of the lands and the goals of our work were very clear. The dichotomy of “native plant” = good, vs ‘invasive plant’ = bad was without ambiguity. The category of “ornamental plants” was not a factor in our data sets. Ornamentals were only potential threats that could leak out into our protected natural areas. At this time, I would surmise that my ontological understanding of what is a native plant rather concrete.
This was about to change.
As my career pivoted into gardening and horticulture, my more rigid ideas of what a native plant is and how we should use and define them shifted as well. Party due to an appreciation and love for the variety of the natural world, and partly due to hands-on experience of gardening in the residential landscape. The experience of cultivating and caring for plants allowed for a fuller, more wholistic relationship with living organisms that is in contrast with a living thing that you give a name and put into a category. The scientific approach, though beneficial to the understanding of our greater ecosystem, has a way of abstracting the natural world, which can limit our experience and lead to a feeling of separateness.
All this has led to a more nuanced understanding of our natural world. Now, as a landscape designer, when I look at a homeowner’s property, I look at it as a site for the benefit of the people that live there and our local ecologies. My goals is to create gardens and designs that are dynamic, rich in biological diversity, and that are beautiful and nurturing to the soul. A space to slow-down and reconnect with the natural world. It may be quite similar to my intentions when I began, but I’m no longer limited to a simple definition.
