Cruising through the glamorous gardens on Pinterest and in gardening magazines, it’s easy to be seduced by the color and abundance of their landscaped gardens. You can imagine your own garden looking the same in only a matter of weeks.
When we moved here three and a half years ago from Phoenix, my experience had been 20 years of bumper crops of rocks and cacti! So, I spent that first winter in a haze of daydreams about spectacular gardens in my soon-to-be rehabbed yard.
When we finally overhauled our yard, I succumbed to the allure of instant picturesque gardens and trucked home a tailgate of annuals and perennials. They were beautiful but the thrill was somewhat short-lived since they needed lots of water, lots of attention and chemicals for better blooms and to keep the pests away and interestingly, didn’t fulfill my need for my garden to mean something.
Little did I know that within a year I would be engaging in a love affair with some of the littlest and most pitiful-looking plants you can imagine. What surprises they had waiting for me.
Last spring while I was studying to become a Master Gardener, I learned about the Heritage Garden Program through the North Yakima Conservation District. They provide resources and support to create your own Heritage Garden full of native plants at yhne.ws/nycdheritagegardens.
Shrubby Penstemon in Master Gardener Deborah Moucka’s Heritage Garden in Yakima, Wash.
Photo by Deborah Moucka
Their coordinator came for a site visit and then developed a landscape plan and plant list for my new garden. I ordered plants from a local native plant nursery. Great, let’s go. But I was told I had to wait until fall to plant. What? No instant Pinterest-looking garden in 30 days? Apparently falling in love is sometimes a slow reveal.
Be patient.
Fall came, I picked up my plants. Uuumph! Little, yellow ice cream cone shaped tubes with scraggly-looking plants sticking out of the top. This is the Little Bluestem or Idaho Fescue that will whisper in the breeze? This is Snow Buckwheat that the bees will love? It looks dead to me. But they tell me it’s just dormant. Well, ok.
Be patient.
Snow covered my measly little plants. Spring came. The little scragglers were showing their heads. And yes, I did go out there and talk to them. It can’t hurt, right?
These heirs to the shrub steppe were beginning to make themselves known, in their own unique way. I’m intrigued. I felt a need to connect.
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The shrub steppe is one of the most diverse ecosystems in Washington state. Unfortunately, an estimated 80% of it has been lost or degraded. So, what could my modest 200 square feet reveal to me about my new hometown in the Yakima area?
The first spring mornings my little garden beckoned me to see what was new. It reminded me of the quietest kid in class who always sat in the back. And halfway through the year when you took the time to get know her, you learned she was interesting and unique and had a quirky sense of humor. But only if you took the time.
Summer and the two Penstemons shot up and bloomed while other plants were poking along. I saw my first hummingbird snacking on one. The yarrow plants with their lacy foliage were sending up white clusters of flowers. The lavender was on board and growing.
Indian Ryegrass, Bluebunch Wheatgrass, Idaho Fescue were showing me that the little scraggles out the top of the planting tube have potential. The Little Bluestem had a high mortality rate over the winter but the two that are left were slowly growing.
Arrowleaf Buckwheat, Snow Buckwheat, Sulfur Buckwheat – nope. Shy, shy, shy and only three inches.
I’ll be patient.
But, the showgirl, the unexpected “look at me” of the garden so far was the Fragrant Evening Primrose’s glamorous white flowers with abundant foliage. And I heard from Thurman Johnson with US Fish and Wildlife, to look for pink moths who love my primroses and sometimes in the morning I will be able to see their little hind ends sticking up out of the flowers.
OK, that’s it. I giggled and was totally in love.
Deborah Moucka’s patience paid off, and her garden is now designated as a Heritage Garden in Yakima, Wash.
Photo by Deborah Moucka
By the end of the summer, all the grasses were sporting their individual little top notches and seeds. The lavender was blooming. The nodding onions were in fact nodding their rookie pink blooms, with a promise that in their coming years, they will be more abundant.
The bees and butterflies had discovered my garden as had some of the neighbors. I applied for and received the Heritage Garden designation and proudly posted the sign.
It’s my experience that love always has something to teach us. I’m thrilled that this modest, native garden continues to teach me about the subtleties of loving nature.
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