How to plant a wildflower meadow

Four whole years ago, I decided we would transform about an acre's worth of downed trees into a native wildflower meadow.  My vision was to create a little ecosystem that would be respite for bees, butterflies, birds, deer and humans...a place where my compatriots and I would go to appreciate Nature's daily (and nightly) comings and goings. 

The process of turning an ugly, snarled landscape into a sea of colorful flora required some heavy equipment, several very good friends, some expensive native seed, and much patience.  It turns out there's only so much a bunch of well-meaning humans can do to restore the land to its natural state. You have to just let Nature do what she does best...and let her do it on her own timetable. 

We finished clearing in the Summer of 2007 and had to wait until that winter to scatter our native seed mix on the snow.  That following Spring, only a few annuals came up, mostly Indian Blanket and Cornflower with a lot of dirt in between. Where was the glorious Foxglove and Coneflower and Milkweed I was promised?  That Fall, the Indian Blanket and Cornflower promptly died back and I was certain I'd been sold a bad batch of seed. 

Then in the Spring of 2009, up came patches of Black-eyed Susan and Partridge Pea, still with lots of dirt in between.  We refer to that as our "yellow year".  And of course, it all died back in the Fall, and again I was certain I'd been sold a bad batch of seed.

Then it was Spring of 2010, and we got grass.  Lots and lots of grass.  We refer to that as our (you guessed it) "grass year".  We were certain that the grasses had run amok!  They must have out-competed all those beautiful flowers that were promised but never meant to be.  That Fall we mowed it all down, convinced like never before that I'd been sold a bad batch of seed.

And now its 2011 and my technicolor vision is finally coming to fruition.  Butterflies, birds and humans alike are delighted by the Coneflower, Brown-eyed Susan, Bee Balm, False Sunflower, Foxglove, Rattlesnake Master, and Milkweed.  And at last, four long years later, we get to refer to this as our "wildflower year". 

Sunday snoozin'

Roscoe has become an accomplished napper.  He finds respite on sofas, rock outcroppings, a narrow windowsill...but his favorite place to snooze, by far, is on one of our laps.  Within minutes of settling in, he's in full-on paw-twitchin', lip-smackin' REM.

I wonder how it is that animals (well, the domesticated ones, anyway) can fall into such deep slumber at the drop of a hat.  Are their lives really that carefree?  I guess when you consider that we humans tend to their every need - nutritious food on a regular schedule, clean water, climate-controlled shelter, first world healthcare, entertainment - what could there possibly be for them to be stressed out about?  I, on the other hand, have trouble sleeping, tossing and turning over the day's silliest annoyances. Perhaps I've allowed my life to be more complicated than is really necessary. Alas, I think it's time to take a lesson from my friend Roscoe and just go chill out on someone's lap. 

Babe in the woods

Spring came late this year.  At least it did for me.  The weather remained cold and dreary right though April and I have been positively stir crazy.  But this weekend finally proved warm enough to don some shorts and a tank top, and I jumped at the chance to get outside to perform some post-winter clean-up around the property.

Throughout the winter months, ice and wind cause several trees and limbs to come down around the property - Nature's way of pruning her landscape.  Usually we just leave all this arboreal debris where it lies, but when it falls across the trails, driveway or in an otherwise unsightly location, we relocate it into the woods where it will rot and nourish the soil and be habitat for a multitude of woodland creatures.  Like this little one.

While tromping along the woodland edge, I happened to walk up on her.  She was sitting in the sunshine and taking in, what is for her, a brand new world.  I'm sure she was as surprised by me as I was by her.  For a long few seconds, we got a good look at each other.  I noticed her shiny coat, glistening jet black nose and enormous eyes.  I wonder what she noticed about me.  My scent of sweat and grime?  My odd-looking limbs?  My hairless body?  No doubt she did NOT find me to be as beautiful as I found her to be.

Once her instincts took over, she hunkered down under an old log where she remained motionless long enough for me to go retrieve my camera from the house and return to take several snapshots.  So young and vulnerable, hiding in this way is her only defense. 

My hope for this one is that she will live a long, healthy life with us, where she will be safe from hunters and free to eat our delicious trees and plants, and where there will always be a dead tree behind which to find safe haven.