Rewilding Starts at Home

Kill your lawn. Go native. Plant food.

A bumblebee on an anise hyssop plant.

I hate lawns. Always have. If that makes me a dirty hippie, so be it. I don’t like mowing, edging, fertilizing, watering constantly, and weeding makes me stabby.

Turns out my instincts may well be part of a movement towards a vast ecological restoration, a rewilding of America’s private green spaces. I am all for that.

In my old house in Sacramento, we solved our lawn problem by murdering it and replacing grass with drought tolerant plants, almost all of which were edible. I was sad to leave that little foodscape when I left California, and was determined to recreate it here in Minnesota.

My yard here is far smaller, less than a quarter acre. A postage stamp in fact. My backyard I’ve dedicated to some serious, industrial-strength, masonry raised beds for a vegetable and herb garden, but around the edge of it, I almost immediately planted currant bushes, monarda (bee balm), a few coneflowers, and a rhubarb plant because Minnesota. (It’s apparently a law that you must have a rhubarb plant in your yard here.)

That left my front lawn. There’s a silver maple tree, a few daylilies, and, weirdly, wild tomatillos, which I also had in Sacramento. Are they… following me?

When I had my raised beds put in, I had the guys strip all the sod, leaving gorgeous black earth. I’ve never seen truly black earth outside the Midwest, and it never ceases to delight me with its deep fertility.

My front yard micro meadow. The Jersualem artichokes are in the middle.

In its place I have planted an array of edible plants, most of them native.

• Rugosa roses, which have giant hips. Not native but I love them and they couldn’t grow in sweltering Sacramento.

• Six blueberry bushes. Blueberries should be the state fruit, not the honeycrisp apple. There. I said it.

• A juneberry bush, a/k/a serviceberry or Saskatoon. Another native berry bush.

• A native black currant bush because I can’t stop myself and love currants.

• More monarda. See above about lack of self control.

• Lots of coneflowers and black-eyed susans, also prairie natives.

• Six clumps of prairie onions, Allium stellatum, a native wild onion species.

• An anise hyssop plant, which has delicious, minty leaves and native bees adore it.

• Six lingonberry plants. Native to farther north in Minnesota, I love them so much I am going to give this a shot. Wish me luck.

• A patch of sunchokes, another Midwest native. And yes, I know they are going to take over. I love eating them, so I should be able to keep them in check. Maybe.

Beyond that, I bought a literal pound of a mix of Minnesota native wildflower seeds to fill out the rest of the space. Right now, they’re starting to flower, and my yard looks wonderful.

But not to everyone. My office looks out over my front yard, and every morning I see dog walkers wander by. Many of the people look at my beautiful mess and shake their heads, or turn to their partner and say something not very nice; I can’t hear them, but I can read facial expressions.

Screw them. For starters, my neighbor has also killed her lawn, so I am not the only one. Second, there’s no homeowners association where I live, thank God. Third, I am doing my bit to provide life for a wide array of creatures who can’t survive in a sea of lawns.

I had only a vague idea about all this before a dear friend told me about a book called Nature’s Best Hope by Douglas Tallamy. The book makes a compelling case for killing at least part of your lawn and replacing it with whatever plants are native to your area.

Not sure what these are, but they’re part of the wildflower mix.

I was smiling all the way through reading it, because Tallamy would mention something and I’d nod my head. Apparently there 4000 species of native bees here in North America — way more than I’d ever imagined — and native plantings are what they need to live. When I read that, I thought, “So that’s why there are all sorts of weird-ass bees in my yard!” So many I can’t recognize, I’ve sat on my front step and just watched them. Digger bees, sweat bees, a whole bunch of different bumble bees, you name it. And yes, honeybees, too.

I’ve also seen a huge variety of birds in my tiny yard, too. Downy woodpeckers, juncos, crowned sparrows, jays, cardinals, robins, flickers, even a rough-legged hawk who was probably looking for rabbits.

About those rabbits. Cottontails are the absolute scourge of yards in my neigborhood. I have had to cage my young shrubs, and the bastards did eat the flowers off my black-eyed susans. But something funny has happened since the meadow yard has matured: There’s almost no rabbit damage anymore. I am mystified as to why, but my fears that the bunnies would mow down everything have thus far gone unrealized. Winter may change that.

Tallamy doesn’t talk much about edible plants, except that birds like berries. But working with your own wild edibles will give you a tangible reward for doing Nature a solid. And don’t think you don’t have them.

Say you live in North Dakota: Those prairie onions, monarda, hyssop, Jerusalem artichokes, juneberries and even black currants all live naturally in the Flickertail State. And one of the greatest edibles in America lives there, too — prairie turnips. I have bought 100 prairie turnip seeds to start next spring. They require a couple years before you can harvest, but guess what? They’re worth it.

OK, how about Arizona? Super easy. Cholla buds are amazing. So are the various cactus fruit, like prickly pears and saguaro. Saltbush is a good green, and a wolfberry bush will keep out unwanted people and give you super cool fruit. Yucca flowers are fantastic tempura fried, and mesquite beans are one of the world’s more versatile foods.

I could go on.

Tallamy notes that lawns aren’t totally evil. They make excellent paths through native plantings, and small patches of lawn are fine because we like to entertain on them. It’s all about letting Nature back into your home.

Being intentional about your property, choosing pretty flowers that are actually from where you live, and as a bonus, things that “pay rent” in the form of food, will absolutely increase your enjoyment of the yard. Another side note that I’ve noticed is that when you have a little ecosystem that works, it sustains itself. After a couple years, you won’t have to replant or reseed. Nature finds a way.

More pretty white flowers in my yard.

Getting Started

As a gatherer, I had an advantage. I just planted what I like to gather in the woods and fields around me. But a quick search for your state’s edible wild plants will help. Definitely choose some fruit, whether it’s berries or larger fruits. Pawpaws are great in shady yards because they prefer to be an understory tree.

Nuts are a good option, too. But remember squirrels never sleep. They are caffeinated gathering machines smarter than about a third of the people I meet. And they want your nuts. So either plant a bunch of plants, like a row of hazelnuts, or just get ready to battle the tree ninjas.

Herbs are easy and super cool. Like the monarda, which is an oregano substitute, there are native herby things in every environment in the United States. Mint is fun, too, but like the Jerusalem artichokes, they can get, er, vigorous.

Wild onions are a must. You’ll never want for chives or green onions again if you have a patch. “Lawn onions,” Allium canadense, were the first thing Toddler Hank ever picked and ate. Some species, like ramps and nodding onions, set bulbs big enough to bother with.

And did I mention edible bulbs like camas or mariposa lilies? Tasty and gorgeous.

Have fun with it. Rewilding your yard, or even part of it, will help the birds and bees, look pretty, and, if you follow my advice about planting native edibles, it’ll pay rent.

Pretty sure you can get behind that, right?