for the love of meadows

Ebulliently blooming Monarda fistulosa in a nearby Meadow

I love Meadows. I adore them. That's all this post will be about.

I love how relaxing it is to be around the complexity of hundreds (thousands??) of species growing together, in their own space, not being directly managed by humans.

Over the years, the culture I live in has decided that natural spaces are best when highly tended: mown, sprayed, weeded, weed-whacked, mulched. The "look" of oceans of mulch dotted with islands of pansies and geraniums, of dark mounds up around tree trunks, of close-shorn lawns, has come to be the "professional" and "respectable" image of not-quite-natural spaces. This over-tending is supposed to make us feel... what? In control, perhaps? Tidy? Safe from ticks? Calm?

This look is not calming, because it isn't right. Plants are not happy as islands among mulch: they desire to be living in close, complex relationship with the species around them. Even people who are not "plant people" sense this on some level (I'm convinced.)

It's also not calming because it isn't safe. Over-management of plants increases their vulnerability -- to pests, drought, disease. Diversity is safe. We know that, innately. Meadows are diverse. Plants may live in clusters of the same species, but the clusters are not defined; they meld and merge with the species around them.

Meadows are relaxing because they foster life.

They create habitat and food for insects, birds, and small critters. They provide nooks and crannies for gnomes and fairies. They foster the life of the plants within: again, the safety is in the diversity of the close-knit species. We currently haven't had rain for weeks. Weeks! The soil is so dry. Plants that live far apart from each other currently need to be watered to survive. But the plants in the Meadow are thriving. Their roots are deep; their tall stalks shade the soil's surface. Their close-standing bodies prevent excess evaporation.

I love how tall Meadow plants are.

When I was a child, and I'd read about Meadows, I'd imagine the herbaceous plants and wildflowers as being close to the ground, easy to move through and perhaps trod upon. But by growing these plants in my garden and visiting established Meadows, I've learned beautifully wrong my assumption was.

These plants are tall! They come up to my chest, or sometimes up to my face. I can look directly into their flowers without bending over. They are not necessarily easy to walk through, unless there's a path. The plants may seem delicate and herbaceous, but their living situation creates strength. They cannot be trod upon.

I love being reminded that an herbaceous plant can be taller than I am. Trees, sure -- I expect them to be bigger than me. But Monarda or Boneset, as tall as my face? That's so cool. It makes me happy.

I love that Meadows hold mystery.

I love not knowing how many species live in them, or who the species are. I love not knowing who all the insects are, and what the relationships are. I love imagining the gnomes scurrying about the base of the plants, the fairies visiting at dawn to monitor the pollination pathways. I love being present with the mystery, the complexity around me. The complexity, after all, is relaxing.

If you live near a Meadow, this is a lovely time to visit -- it will be fully abloom! Bring a picnic, a blanket, a journal. Bring comfy clothing and shoes for strolling. Bring your awareness, your adoration. Bring your beautiful, complex self. The Meadow awaits.

yours in pollination pathways,

Amanda

P.S. Want to grow a Meadow? I highly recommend Lawns into Meadows: Growing a Regenerative Landscape by Owen Wormser. It's short, straightforward, and simple. And exceedingly inspiring.