It's been a while since I wrote any sort of blog post in order to share what all is happening inside the garden. I'm sorry for that. It's been one of those years (or several, closing in on a decade) where I've gotten a little bit lost. Again. I set out with the best of intentions, but still, I find myself turned around. Lost. Wandering the forest of my mind, confused as to which wrong turn I took, which fork in the road brought me to this time, to this place.
But I am slowly gathering my bearings. It seems to happen earlier and earlier every year, this losing of myself and then finding out I am lost at all. That gives me hope. Hope that one day, I won't get so turned around. That I'll set intentions as touchstones and continue to reorient myself to them again and again and again. And in doing so, I'll cease losing sight of the most important things in my life in favor of the next shiny object, or chasing after solving the inner despair I sometimes carry inside my chest, or drowning under the sense of overwhelm that creeps up my spine and settles across my shoulders.
That last bit is key, especially when it comes to the garden and all things conservation, at least for me. I succumb to the overwhelm all too often, and it's a paralyzing force that keeps me stuck inside, looking at my yard with dread when a garden should be a force of light. Especially in dark times. Especially in times when so little feels within our control.
But a garden cannot be controlled, either, and there is a lesson somewhere in that. In a learning to loosen our grip (something I am terrible at); a learning to sit with discomfort and simply observe; a learning when to tend to something and when to allow it to unfurl along its own timeframe; and a learning to step back, turn inwards, and rest, understanding that there will come a time in which we return to the task at hand, time to flourish and expand and be productive, but that that time is not everytime, and it is always ok to press pause.
That is where I am at right now. Not pressing pause, per se, but attempting to loosen my grip a bit. I am simply doing what I can, when I can, as often as I can, and turning my sights back to nature for any wisdom she wishes to bestow upon me in the process. That's not to say overwhelm doesn't still curl its way around my throat every time I look outside and see this month's Invasive Species Spotlight – Japanese Stiltgrass – taking over my yard, filling me with dread. It does, and the feeling isn't great. But whenever the negative thoughts begin to swirl, I try to take a breath and remind myself that it will all get done. Eventually. That nature can take very good care of herself, with or without my help. And that I am one person, doing the best that I can, navigating my way through this life for the first time.
I exhale, and something loosens inside of me. Something small, but important. It is just enough that I am able to carve away 30 minutes to get outside and delight in whatever it is I do, even if that's simply pressing my bare feet against the grass. It is enough, and so am I.
Invasive Species Spotlight:
Japanese Stiltgrass (Microstegium vimineum)
I say all those repetitive words because, truly, the English Ivy was absolutely no match for the power of the stiltgrass that has quickly taken over its place this summer. It's almost laughable that I was ever overwhelmed by the ivy at all. It was a drop in the bucket – no – the ocean of what the state in which the stiltgrass now stands. *Runs to a corner to laugh and definitely not cry*
A few pics of the before and after from the English Ivy removal.
The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly
Just like with English Ivy, Japanese stiltgrass contains both good and bad qualities. For one, it looks really lush in the garden. When I showed Arlen the patch of it growing underneath the tree in our backyard, he was genuinely a bit sad that we were, in fact, planning to tear it out. It's much more vibrant, fluffy, and pretty than the grass currently living in our front yard. Why did we have to tear it out?
Is it really all so bad?
Japanese stiltgrass isn't merely good looking, it also helps to cover the soil and prevent water loss during the hottest parts of the year. Every time I walk into my backyard, I feel a noticeable difference between the front yard. The backyard feels more moist and cool, whereas the front remains burning hot and drier, especially as I walk towards the black-tar road. And because stiltgrass grows so densely, its roots help to hold the soil in place and prevent it from running off or flooding in a giant storm, of which we've had several this year. Our backyard was prone to flooding after every single storm, but I've not noticed that this year, except in a few areas where the stiltgrass has been pulled and bare soil remains. And in the fall, the grass dies back, leaving a thick mat of mulch, again, protecting the soil from the drier conditions common to the cool season.
So, no, it isn't all so bad, having this invasive species present in the landscape. It is providing an important, ecological function, especially considering this grass is often found most commonly in disturbed landscapes where quick soil coverage is needed to prevent further degradation. I even stumbled across an article purporting all the good that stiltgrass provides, if you want to take a gander: https://www.nomadseed.com/2019/03/in-defense-of-stiltgrass/
But, if there is all this good inherent to the species, then why am I set on tearing it out of my landscape?
Well, according to the USDA's National Invasive Species Information Center:
“Japanese stiltgrass. . . is an aggressive invader of forest lands throughout the eastern United States. Infestations can impact the diversity of native species, reduce wildlife habitat, and disrupt important ecosystem functions. Stiltgrass is considered one of the most damaging invasive plant species in the United States. Infestations spread rapidly and the seed can remain viable in the soil for up to five years.”
Yikes. Not only can the seed remain viable in the soil for up to five years, but each plant produces up to one-thousand individual seeds! No wonder it is able to so rapidly take over woodland. Or the entirety of a person's backyard over the course of a single season.
In the two or three years that I've allowed the stiltgrass to grow untended, I've noticed a dramatic decrease in plant diversity in my yard. The stitlgrass hasn't affected the larger, taller, more established species, such as the goldenrod,
ragwort, elderberry or even columbine. But it has effectively suffocated and suppressed the lower growing, smaller plants, to the point that I'm not even sure what used to grow before the stiltgrass took over.
Plus, it's not as if I am starting an all-out war against this plant. Like with the English Ivy, I am tackling it in stages, pulling it out where it is most egregious and impacts our daily lives, i.e. the backyard. And I'e also got a succession plan in place for the areas I am set on tackling.
For example, one portion of the yard is already knee-high with grass. That section I will leave until late summer, allowing the grass to keep the soil intact and moist. But, just as it begins to flower and before it has a chance to set seed, I will go through and mow it all down, thus eliminating its ability to proliferate or disperse its genes through seed and giving it no time to regrow before the cooler weather comes to kill it. But I am taking a different approach in the pathways, side yard, and under the back tree. With those, I am hand-pulling the grass – root and all – and then either A) sheet mulching to suppress any further growth while also keeping the soil covered and providing the slow release of nutrients through the decomposition of the mulch; or B) seeding/ planting in native or less aggressive, naturalized species to fill in the void left by the removal of the grass. This way, they have time to establish themselves through the winter and hopefully outcompete the stiltgrass come spring 2027.
That's my plan and I'm sticking to it, at least for now. It is slow going work, but that's ok. I keep taking moments to pause and remind myself that I am only one person, doing my best with the information I have available to me. I will tackle what I can and always try to move things positively forward, even if it's by a mere 1%. And in the end, nature will sort herself out, with or without my help. I am simply trying my best to make that transition as easy as possible, to give the native species a chance to live and fight another day. All while remembering that I've only got this one life to live and I'd rather like to enjoy it while I am here, instead of constantly feeling as if the entire fate of the world rests on my shoulders (it doesn't. That's a weird form of ego talking).
So this is my reminder to you, too. If you are tackling a big garden project or struggling with an invasive species outbreak or are simply trying to make it through the next hour. . . take a moment. Breathe in deeply. And as you exhale, remind yourself that you are doing your best, and that's really all that matters. You are showing up and putting in the work and progress is being made, even if it feels like it's forever hidden beneath the surface. Take one more breath. And then one more step. Rinse, repeat.
You've got this! I believe wholeheartedly in you! Now go out and feel the sun on your face – you deserve its warm and welcoming kiss against your cheeks. ☀️