Ponds
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Tiny Hugels and Fishscale Swales: Small water catchment
In permaculture it is recommended to design long level, contoured swales throughout your property to catch rainwater. Long swales, however, won’t work when the property is small, or if it is already mostly planted, or if the hiring of large equipment or teams of diggers isn’t feasable, or if long swales aren’t part of a lovely garden. What then?
In the gardens for which I’ve written consultations I’ve recommended what Geoff Lawton (of the Permaculture Design Institute of Australia) calls fishscale swales. Small curved swales staggered up a slope so that rainwater can be caught and held. One overflows into another, just like a pinball machine.
Any swale, no matter how small, will help hold water. I put them in just above each plant, the width of the dripline of the plant. I also combine them with burying wood (hugelkultur). I don’t have a lot of branches or logs, but I do have a lot of extra pieces of lumber salvaged when the sheds were dismantled. These pieces are untreated (no paint or pressure treatment), and if they have nails and screws in them, even better! The hardware will mineraize the soil as it decomposes. This wood is already very old and dry, and thus will soak up water a treat. If you soak the wood in water, compost tea or a microbial brew before you bury it, that’s super. If not, don’t worry about it. The idea is that rainwater will accumulate in the swale, percolate into the soil and into the wood below it. There the wood will hold water as it breaks down, gradually irrigating and fertilizing the plant below.
Wood can be placed on top of the soil and buried as the swale is dug, or it can be dug into the ground and covered. The swale is filled with mulch o help retard weed growth; if by a walkway the scale filled with mulch then it may be walked on without fear of a twisted ankle.
Here I have a Mission fig that has been slow to grow due to irregular watering (NOT my fault!)
Figs like a little water and this area has been on the dry side. In the direction from which rainwater would flow, above the tree, I laid out a few pieces of old lumber, nails and all.
I happened to be brewing a large batch of microbial tea, so I threw the wood into a bucket of the stuff and let it absorb some.
They happen to be the width of the existing dripline of the tree; again, any swale and and wood will help. I dug a small swale the same length, a shovel’s width wide, and threw the dirt on top of the wood.
Then I filled the swale with mulch and voila! the job is done. This will now catch rainwater, hold moisture, and fertilize the tree, as well as finding something useful for junk lumber. Burying the wood sequesters the gasses released in decomposing materials into the soil rather than the air thus helping reduce greenhouse gasses.
Using fishscale swales and mini-hugelkultur beds when planting most native plants can really help them become established in a low-water situation. This wild rose (rosa rugusa) is being planted in a very dry area, and I wanted to bury the wood below soil level to keep it closer to the roots of the plant. I dug a small trench and laid out some boards, nails down.
Then as I dug the swale I layered the wood with dirt and a couple more boards until buried. I filled in the swale with mulch and planted the rose on the downhill side.
I threw in some coyote scat since it was lying there so conveniently. There’s quite a microbial boost for the rose!
Remember that here in a dry climate we need to plant so that the root ball is even with the ground, or make the whole catch basin a little lower. Otherwise the roots will dry out. Planting so that the root ball is a little above the ground is a common practice is rainy areas.
Remember native plants have communities. Certain plants grow with certain others because they are mutually beneficial. This rose was planted within the dripline of an Engelmann oak, one place it is found.
So swales don’t have to be gigantic earthworks projects. They can be small and alternated down a slope, or just individual ones above new or existing plants. Throw some wood into a mini-hugel between the swale and the plant and you’ll water less, fertilize naturally, and compost leftover wood. Don’t forget cotton clothing and bedding… that all works, too!
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New Bog
Last week a new bog area was added to the main pond. The first bog area was dug by hand, created so that there would be a shallow, flat habitat for wading birds and tadpoles.
This is called adding edge, which is an important component of any permaculture design. The first bog is connected to the series of rain catchment basins and now is the link between rain overflow system and the large pond. This year no rainwater left the property; it was all captured. Edge areas in both water and plant design provide more sun and growth areas than a round or straight design. More interesting things happen on the edge.
This bog area was dug up by a tractor bought from a farm auction that I’d shared rental with a friend. It took a large mound of dirt and filled in some dips, leveling a walking and working area.
Steve, who among his many talents is also a heavy equipment operator, did a terrific job grading and then expanding the pond. A small problem is that he found some more porous soil with the clay, so the water level on the pond dropped.
We’re seeing how far it goes down to tell if the seepage is occurring on the edge or on the bottom of the new area. Once found, we’ll move extra clay over and tamp it all in.
Plants Jacob has put into the first bog include graceful cattails, which are a dwarf cattail that isn’t so invasive, iris, rushes, watercress, and some Mexican waterlily.
Very soon the plants will cover the bog areas providing excellent cover for many animal species which… wait for it… live on the edge.
- Compost, Composting toilet, Gardening adventures, Hugelkultur, Permaculture and Edible Forest Gardening Adventures, Ponds, Rain Catching, Soil
Rain Catchment Awesomeness (and some BSP)
First, a little BSP (blatant self-promotion). There is a wonderful ezine called San Diego Loves Green featuring topical local articles and snippets that reflect on the growing green community here in, you guessed it, San Diego. The San Diego Permaculture Group has an ongoing column, and yesterday I was the guest writer. My article is on the importance of planting natives , with some information that you might find surprising, or that you may have already read in my blog about the same subject. Also (more BSP) if any of you attended the Southern California Permaculture Convergence this weekend, and still yet, if any of you listened to my talk on soil, first of all I’d like to thank you for your attention and attendance, and I hope I answered your questions and solved some problems for you. You can search on my blog for many posts concerning nitrogen -fixing, or 50 Ways to Leave Your Compost , and see my composting toilet (I went to a Garden Potty).
We had almost two inches of rain on Thursday night. In San Diego we rarely receive the long soaking rains that we really need. Instead we must be ready for flash floods. If you are familiar with Finch Frolic and the labors we’ve been undertaking in the last two years to hold the rainwater, then you may be curious to find out how the property survived this last middle-of-the-night flooding and hailstorms. If you remember, not only is there the water flowing off the roof and falling onto the watershed property, but also an unmeasurable amount that is purposely channelled runoff from all the neighbor’s properties that runs through mine.
Since the permaculture project was installed I haven’t had any of the erosion that plagued the site. As of last year I’m pretty sure that every drop that falls on my property is caught, in rain catchment basins, the ponds, and in the loam and compost in the guilds. The challenge was to also keep all the neighbor’s water on my property as well! I’m thrilled to say that we almost did it!
There is a new bog area being designed by Jacob Hatch just above the big pond.
This area had been designed to channel overflow water from the rain catchment streams around the pond and down a black tube to the stream bed below. Greedy me wants all that water! With the creation of another silt basin, and now that there is vegetation in the stream to hold onto the silt, I’ve made the water now flow directly into the big pond. There are planned overflows from the big pond, and water did overflow where it was supposed to.
The first rain catchement basin was enlarged a lot so as to catch water higher on the property.
There is decomposed gravel in that one so the water perculates quickly, thank goodness, as most of the other basins hold water due to the clay composition of the soil.
Also, a rain catchement basin was created along the top of the cement channel that normally funnels water off the property.
A series of these will be created all along the channel, allowing water to slow, gather and perculate along the length of the property, with no outlet at the end.
This will take some of the flow pressure off of the water diverted down into the main series of basins.
The only area breached was actually due to a gopher hole whose origin must be in the stream. I could tell by the swirls in the mulch where the erosion happened.
There is also the slight problem of water flowing down my own driveway and then down the trail.
I think a small hugelkultur bed might slove that problem.
The verdict? Almost all the water was retained on the property,even that of the neighbor’s! A few tweaks and we are well on our way to total rainwater dominance! Mwwahahahahahahaha!
- Compost, Gardening adventures, Hugelkultur, Permaculture and Edible Forest Gardening Adventures, Rain Catching, Soil, Vegetables
Hugelkultur: Irrigating with old wood
Hugelkultur is a German word (pronounced hoogle culture: it should have some umlauts over the first ‘u’ but I have no idea how to do that) which translates as hill culture. It is a process of building raised beds with a core of old wood. The benefits are that as the wood decomposes it not only releases nutrients into the soil, but it holds water like a sponge. Rain water is collected inside the bed, then as the warmer weather sets in and heat dries out the outer shell, it will wick that moisture back out. Presto! Irrigation in the dry season. As the wood decomposes it creates air holes into which deeper roots may penetrate and absorb nutrients that aren’t being washed into the ground water. Also, growing on a tall hugelkultur bed makes harvesting easier because vegetables are often located higher off the ground. The process was popularized by Sepp Holzer, although he didn’t actually call it that.
Hugelkultur may be started flat on the ground, by hand or by machine, dug into the ground, stacked very tall or short, or even level to the ground. The best way to build a bed is to place it on contour where rainwater will collect, preferably facing North and South so that both sides receive equal sun.
I have areas of ground that are either very heavy clay, or are decomposed granite with stones left over from the building of the house. Some trees don’t receive the drainage they need from irrigation because of the clay, which causes the roots to suffocate, or else plants dry up because water perculates too swiftly through the soil.
I also have stacks of brush that were left when the garden was created as hiding places for animals while the garden grew. I don’t need that many brush piles anymore now that the garden is large. I have three wire cages filled with woodier weeds and prunings that are in ‘slow compost’ mode, and leftover trimmings from bamboo used in bridge construction. Perfect hugelkultur components!
I targeted an area between the pathway and a plant guild with two apricots and vegetables in it. When it rains that area has standing water on it because of the clay content. The area should become part of the guild, but the soil needs mucho amending. I have areas like this all around the property. How to amend two acres of soil? How to get rid of the ever-rising mountains of prunings? How to make the rain water permiate the soil and perculate down rather than sheet across? One guess. Yep, hugelkultur. I bury that wood!
I had made a small hugelkultur experiment a year ago with a raised strawberry bed. There was old lime firewood rotting on the property, so I placed several of these logs along the side of the bed, then covered them with soil and planted strawberries. It worked very well. The strawberries loved the acid, even growing into the decomposing logs, and the logs held the moisture. Some wonderful showy fungus came up, too. I will be reworking that bed and this time I will cover the ground with logs, throw on some llama or horse manure, cover with compost and replant the strawberries. I shouldn’t have to fertilize that bed or add soil for a long time.
For the big hugelkultur bed I wanted a deep hole that would capture rain and allow the wood to absorb it. My faithful assistants Lori and Steve and Jacob work on this project with me. Steve and Lori dug this ginormous serpentine pit about 2 1/2 feet deep and the same wide.
Since the paths had just been covered with mulch, the dirt was piled on top of plywood layed over the mulch for protection.
Then we began filling the bed with the largest wood first.
We didn’t have large logs which would have worked well, but we had lots of thick branches. This hole took a lot of prunings and we jumped on them to compact them down.
The hugelkultur bed was left for a few days to settle (and we had run out of time and energy that first day!), and then we worked on it again. Extra dirt from the rain catchment basins that the men were enlarging was hauled down and thrown into and around the wood.
The mound was watered well. In dry areas it is important to water the wood and the soil well as you are building or else the bed will want to draw water from the area around it, drying up any seeds or plants planted on it.
Of course if this is a temporarily boggy area, the hugel bed would help dry it out. There were subterranean irrigation lines across the area already, and since we have a dry climate and the wood I used wasn’t old spongy logs and would take some time to become absorbant, we reestablished the drip system across the top of the hugel bed.
Because there weren’t large logs, there were a lot of spaces to fill with dirt. Gradually the mound grew and was sloped down to the pathway. Finally a couple of inches of dirt was packed on top. Unfortunately this was mostly clay from the excavation site, but if it had been good soil to begin with, I wouldn’t have needed the hugel bed now, would I? Yes, I did give it a sprinkling of sugar just to get the microbes feeding.
The next day I dug up soil from the bottom of the wire cages that were now empty of branches, vines, and sticks. In less than a year since making the wire beds they’d begun to decompose and there was several inches of nice soil at the bottom. I hauled it over to the new bed and topped the clay with the compost.
I want to break up the clay soil so I threw around a cover crop mixture of peas and wheat. The peas will fix nitrogen in the soil, the wheat roots will stabilize and break up clay, I can harvest food from both and then slash and drop the plants to bring nutrition to the soil surface. I also had a bag of mixed old veggie seeds. Last year or so ago I pulled out all my little envelopes of veggie seeds that were very old and mixed them all up. I planted batches around the property and had many things germinate. I still had about 2 cups of the seed left so I threw it around the new hugelbed along with the cover crop. Why not? If the seed isn’t viable, no loss. If it is, terrific! I can always transplant the sprouts if there are too many of any one thing.
I watered the seed down, and then raked out the old straw from the Fowl Fortress. Here is a warning about straw: it will germinate. People say straw doesn’t have seeds in it because the seeds are all in the tops which is cut as hay, but they lie. They live in a dream. Straw still has seeds in it and I had a nightmare of a time weeding pathways the first year of the garden because they were all strewn with straw mulch. However if you put straw down for your hens first, they will eat all the seeds, poo on it, kick it around in the dirt, and then you will have a much better quality straw to use. Straw is difficult to get wet, and it needs to be wet when placed on the bed unless you live in a wet climate or have timed the planting to be just before a long soaking rain.
Even then it is good to soak the straw first and then apply it to the bed. Some people soak the straw in an enriched liquid, using manure tea, kelp, microbial brews, organic molassas, etc. The mulch acts as an insulator for moisture and warmth (the decaying wood will eventually produce some heat to warm the little plant feet), and a suffocator for weeds. It can also be a home for sow bugs if too thin. In wetter climates the straw layer can be an inch or so thick. In drier climates the straw or whatever you use as a top mulch should be several inches thick or else it will just wick moisture out of the bed. The same rule applys when using newspapers as a mulch. TIP: don’t let your chickens near the new bed! They will ‘rediscover’ their old mulch and start kicking all your work apart!
If I had wanted to plant established plants on the hugelkultur bed rather than seeds, I would have forgone spreading compost and just covered the poor soil on the mound in wet newspaper or cardboard, and then piled on the straw mulch. To plant I would have cut a hole through the paper, added a handful of good compost and planted in the hole.
So the bed was done, and just before a predicted rain event, too. As it rains the water will roll into the bed, be absorbed and held by the soil around the branches which will eventually begin to absorb the moisture as they decay. The seeds will sprout through the mulch and their roots will hold and amend the clay on the mound. Eventually the roots of the apricot trees will reach over towards the hugel bed, and that patch of icky clay soil will become beautiful. All the while I can still grow crops on the raised bed. My three wire bins are empty, an enormous brush pile is reduced to a small mound, and extra dirt found a new home. Plus we all had some fantastic upper body workouts. A winning situation all around.
More hugel beds will be created in troubled spots; some may only be a couple of feet long below a tree’s root line to help with soil drainage while amending the planting bed.
If you are in an area where the top mulch might wash away in heavy rains, make a latticework of sticks held down with landscape pins or more sticks over the top of the straw. Or cover with wire until the plants begin to sprout; you don’t want the wire to remain on the bed.
So try a hugelkultur bed, big or small. You’ll wonder why you never tried it before.
- Animals, Bees, Birding, Chickens, Gardening adventures, Heirloom Plants, Permaculture and Edible Forest Gardening Adventures, Pets, Photos, Ponds
It Might As Well Be Spring: an Indulgence in Prose
Mornings find me waking before sunrise, throwing cats off my bed, rousing my elderly dog for her morning ablutions, and scampering down to the hen house in my robe and slippers (and some mornings warm hat and scarf) to feed the hens and the wild ducks, and the tortoise.
Last night when I let Sophie out for her final walk of the night the Santa Ana winds were like a warm caress, riffling through the palm fronds in the dark. Orion sparkled overhead, moving into the position it was in for the birth of both my March babies half a lifetime ago.
This morning the air was expectant. The garden seemed to emit a trembling energy; an excitement roiling to the surface, but afraid to burst out in full in case of another frost.
Indeed another cold front will be moving in with much-needed rainfall later this week. For now, the bold grasses are up and reckless early stonefruit have blossomed out, much to the joy of the hungry bees.
I could almost hear Browning’s Pippa chanting in my head. But not too much.
The ornamental pear trees all around town are in full glorious bloom. Yesterday while driving from the Community Center to the bookstore there were enough petals strewn in the road as to cause a whirlwind of white as I drove through. An eddy of petals around my car. Joy.
This weekend is the Great Backyard Bird Count, as well as my two regular bird count days for Project Feederwatch. Before breakfasting I filled seed feeders and enjoyed the show while eating my fresh egg, asparagus, toast and cinnamon tea. Twitterpating is definitely in the air as birds pair up and rival mallards chase each other over the big pond.
A Northern mockingbird sips from the bird bath dripper sizing up his territory and listening for new sounds to add to his repertoire. A buzzy rufous hummingbird guards the nectar feeder from the larger and flashier Anna’s. A long-mated pair of crows hang out preening each other on the telephone wire.
Frogs are croaking amorously in the damp rushes. To my complete joy, far earlier than the bulbs strewn across the property which are just peeking green out of the earth, just outside my window are early daffodils and sweet violets, two of my favorite flowers.
It is still February, and I’m not that great a fan of such a beastly month as February , but for today the paperwork will lie ignored, the cold weather clothes will stay in the laundry basket, and after I take my cat to the vet I will spend the day in the garden (although that isn’t so unusual for me, is it?) listening to the Nuttall’s woodpecker try to drum holes into the telephone pole and smell the scent of Gideon’s trumpet flowers.
I look forward to tomorrow when I’ll be making two new friends, and to casting seed which will add new life to the garden.
It is all about possibilities, and possibility is definitely in the air today. I will believe Punxsutawney Phil that although it is technically winter, for today it might as well be spring.
- Animals, Birding, Compost, Gardening adventures, Living structures, Permaculture and Edible Forest Gardening Adventures, Photos, Ponds, Rain Catching
Frost on the Pathways
It doesn’t often frost here in Fallbrook, which is located about an hour from both the mountains and the Pacific in northern San Diego county. When it does, the fruit growers have to take drastic steps to keep their citrus, avocados and other tender plants from dying. The last frost happened after a long steady rain, just after a thick mulch was applied to all the trails here at Finch Frolic Gardens (thank you, Lori!). I awoke to a magical result: just the pathways had turned white with frost. Beautiful! (You can click on the photos to enlarge).
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Southern California Permaculture Convergence! Be there!
If you are interested in any aspect of permaculture, such as organic gardening, herbs, planting native plants, aquaponics, natural ponds, beekeeping, keeping chickens, and so much more, then you must come to the Southern California Permaculture Convergence. It happens on March 9th and 10th at the Sky Mountain Institute in Escondido. The keynote speaker will be Paul Wheaton, lecturer and permaculturalist extraordinaire of www.permies.com fame. Oh, and I’ll be one of the many speakers as well (cough cough). The Early Bird special of only $50 for both days ends at the end of January, and then the price will rise, so buy your tickets now!
Also, for a full-on demonstration of taking bare land and creating a permaculture garden, there will be a three-day intensive class taught by Paul Wheaton on site the three days prior to the Convergence.
You can read about the convergence here at the official website, which will give you the link perm.eventbrite.com where you may purchase tickets. Also visit the SD Permaculture Meetup page to see all the free workshops that happen monthly all over San Diego.
This convergence is such a deal, you really shouldn’t miss it! And such a bargain, too. One of the best things I find that come out of these convergences is the exchange of ideas and networking among the attendees, and all the practical information you can take home and use right away. One of the largest parts of permaculture is building community, which means sharing with and assisting others.
Really. Don’t miss this! Tell your friends!
- Animals, Bees, Birding, Gardening adventures, Other Insects, Permaculture and Edible Forest Gardening Adventures, Ponds, Reptiles and Amphibians, Soil, Worms
Fall Morning
I use the kitchen table as a work center, but spend a lot of time not working. That is because from the big dusty windowseat, through the spiderwebs that catch sunlight in the corners of the glass I watch a fairytale of animals. Song sparrows with their formal stripes and classy single black breast spot hop along the uneven flagstone walkway. The walkway, recently weeded, is again being compromised by sprouts. The small pond wears a heavy scarf of peppermint along its north side, and a mixture of fescues and waterplants around the south. A waterlily bravely floats pads on the still water after having been drastically thinned last month. A calla lily opens partially white, partially green.
Below the window in a dish of seed set low for ground feeders are house finches, the males’ proud red fading like the leaves of the Japanese maple behind the green bench. Lesser goldfinches skeletonize the leaves of sunflowers that have sprouted from birdseed; a nuthatch and a mountain chickadee take turns on the hanging suet feeder, both noisy and reminding me of pine forests. A pair of crows who have lived near this garden for years, but who have been about other business during the summer, are reunited on the telephone line. She grooms his feathers and he leans into her. I’ll have to put treats out for them, to keep on their good side. A Nutall’s woodpecker looks like a childhood toy by hopping straight up the big pine. I grin a welcome to a couple of white crowned sparrows, the forefront of the migratory flock. These spirited and chatty birds shuffle leaves onto my walkway every morning, and I quite happily sweep the leaves back for the next round. It is a ritual just between us. A young scrub jay swoops in with much show, seeing how big a reaction he can get from startling the smaller birds clustering at the feeders or taking warm dirtbaths. He lands on a small trellis and pecks out seeds from a sunflower I propped up after its yellow glory faded. Finches visit when he leaves and take their share of this high protein food.
The outside water is turned off; I should be on my knees in mud down by the chicken coop right now fixing a break in the pipe but I am held here by the autumnal light. Even in the morning it slants at a kinder angle, bringing out the gold in the leaves. Later when the water resumes the dripper on the bird bath will start and sparrows, finches, towhees and random visitors will sip drinks and take cleansing baths. One of my favorite sights is watching a group of finches taking turns in the bath, daring each other to stay longer and become wetter. Their splashing sends a cascade of drops into the sunlight. They give Finch Frolic its name. Now the only visitors are honeybees taking water to hydrate their honey. I emphathize with these bees. Only the older females do the pollen gathering, carrying heavy loads in their leg sacks back to the hive until they die in flight. A useful life, but a strenuous and unimaginative one.
Perhaps today there will also be a house sparrow, or a common yellowthroat or a disagreeable California towhee, what everyone knows as a ’round headed brown bird’. Or maybe the mockingbird will revisit the pyracantha berries, staking them out as his territory while finches steal them behind his back. I hear the wrentit’s bouncey-ball call, but as they can throw their voices I usually don’t spot them. Annas hummingbirds spend all their energy guarding the feeders, stopping to peer into the window to see if I’m a threat. My black cat Rosie O’Grady stares back, slowly hunching, mouth twitching with a soft kecking sound as if she could hunt through a window. I see that the hanging tray of grape jelly needs to be taken in and washed because the orioles have all migrated. Rosie is given up by the hummingbird and instead she watches cat TV as the birds shuffle in the Mexican primrose below the window.
I don’t see either of the bunnies this morning, Primrose or Clover. They live under the rosemary bush, and perhaps in the large pile of compost in the corner of the yard. I’ve watched them nibble the invasive Bermuda grass, and pull down stalks of weedy sow thistle and eat the flowers and seeds. They do no harm here, and are helping with the weeding; I love watching them lope around the pathways living in cautious peace.
Unseen by me by where I sit, mosquito fish, aquatic snails, dragonfly larvae, strange worms and small Pacific chorus frogs hang out in the pond and under the overhanging lips of flagstone I placed there just for them. Under the plants are Western fence lizards big and small awaiting warmth from the sun to heat up the rocks so they may climb the highest stone in their territory and posture while the heat quickens their blood. A mouse scurries between plants, capturing bits of birdseed scattered by the messy sparrows. The soil is good here, full of worms and microbes and fungus. Everything is full of life, if you only know how to look for it. You can smell it. You can feel it.
Now comes the spotted towhee, black headed with white patterns on his wings and reddish sides. Once called the rufous-sided towhee, he is bold and handsome, his call a long brash too-weeet. He sassily zig-zags down the narrow flagstone pathway looking for bugs.
I haven’t seen the rat family for a few days. The four youngsters invade the hanging feeders, tossing each other off and being juvenile delinquents. At night I hear the screech of a barn owl, which might be my answer.
The oxblood lilies – always a surprise during the dry and the heat of September, have almost all faded, but sprouts of paper white narcissus are beginning to break ground. They are Fall flowers here, usually done by Thanksgiving.
It is Fall. Finally. The world of my garden is tired and ready for a rest from the heat, the mating, the child rearing, the dryness, the search for diminishing food, the hiding so as not to become food. Although the days here are still in the high 80’s the evenings bring coolness and a much-needed dampness. Rain won’t come until November or later. But we wait for it, the animals, the plants and I. And time passes as I sit at the table and watch. I know of no better way to spend an autumn morning.
- Compost, Gardening adventures, Permaculture and Edible Forest Gardening Adventures, Rain Catching, Soil, Worms
Why Plant Natives?
The following article was written for and published in the summer 2012 Fallbrook Land Conservancy’s newsletter, the Conservation Chronicle (http://www.fallbrooklandconservancy.org/News/Chronicles/Summer2012/Summer2012.pdf, pg. 6). It was slightly edited and retitled for publication.
Why is planting native vegetation a good idea? We all know that native plants arranged in natural combinations and densities provide safety corridors for our native animals. San Diego’s plant communities have, like all established ecosystems, developed a symbiotic relationship with native and migratory fauna. Our plants leaf out, bloom and fruit when native animals and insects need the food, and provide appropriate nutrition that imported or invasive plants may not. Wildlife then disperses seed and pollen in methods that suit the plants, as well as providing the fertilizer for which the plants have adapted. Flora and fauna have set up symbiotic relationships to an extent where some species rely solely on a single other species for their existence. A balanced ecosystem is a dance between inhabitants who know each other’s needs and satisfy them for their own survival.
We plant natives in our yards because they are hard-wired for our soil and climate. They naturally conserve water and do not need fertilizer or insect control. They also can be beautiful. Planting native plants is good for our wallet, our resources and our health. But there is more to the equation. Living in every handful of good soil are billions of microscopic creatures and fungi collectively called microbes that make nutrients available to plant roots. The smell of fresh soil is a chemical released by these microbes called geosmin. Scientists now know that the microbes in undisturbed soils form a communication network between tree and plant roots. When a tree is attacked by insects, communication is sent out chemically by the tree’s roots and carried via this microbial network throughout the ecosystem, and other trees set up defense mechanisms to lessen their own damage.
Plants also communicate via scents not detectable by humans. Lima beans and corn planted downwind of brother plants which had been subjected to grasshopper attack lowered their sugar content to be less desirable. Such plants received 90% less insect damage than those planted upwind. California sagebrush (Artemisia californica) allows sibling plants to grow nearby because when attacked, it emits an airborne chemical to repel insects. The more sagebrush in the area, the better the protection as other sages respond in kind. Some plants when attacked will release a chemical that attracts the predatory insect which will feed upon the bug that is attacking the plant.
Thus plants communicate via airborne chemicals and through their roots via the microbial network. They call for help, they send out alarms and insect invitations and what’s more, they respond to each other. The why of planting natives is therefore also this: It is important to plant natives because they all speak the same language. Plants introduced to an area by humans are like strangers in a strange land. They cannot communicate well with other plants. They don’t know which bugs are bad until it’s too late. They have no one to call for help; the pheromones they emit are for beneficial bugs that live far away. Their seeds cannot supply the proper nutrition for the wildlife, and the wildlife may not be able to supply the plant with what it needs to keep healthy. They struggle to succeed in our soils and become stressed and sickly. We pour fertilizer and pesticides on them to help them survive, which kills the microbes that create good soil. Also, without the natural checks and balances found at the plant’s native ecosystem it may well become invasive and rob space, water and nutrition from our natives. The weeds you see in reclaimed properties are mostly non-native. Foxtails and wild radish do not belong here. Hike in some of the preserves which have not been previously farmed. There you’ll see the real native wildflowers, such as California peony, rattlesnake weed, tidy tips and Blue-Eyed Mary, living in harsh decomposed granite soils on little water, in relationships with the other chaparral surrounding them. You’ll understand a little more about how plants form guilds to support each other, and create that wholesome rightness that we feel when we walk in undisturbed nature. Recreating those guilds in your garden, adapted to provide human food, medicine and building materials, is called Permaculture.
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What’s Happening in the July Garden