In permaculture, there is a term called a guild—a grouping of
plants that interact together in a mutually beneficial way. The most classic example of a guild is the three sisters: corn, beans, and squash planted together. The corn stalks provide a trellis for the beans to grow up, the beans help to fix nitrogen in the soil, and the squash plants spread out, covering the ground with lush vegetation and shielding the soil from evaporation. All three plants benefit from the neighbors around them.
When we bought our house, we didn’t initially notice that
there was a thriving guild on the hillside immediately adjacent to our future
garden spot. However, once we set
to work clearing it, we noticed that our hillside was dominated by 4 plants---
which seemed to be working in tandem to squash out all other life on the
hillside, and to increase our misery by constantly trying to take over our
yard. These four plants formed an
elegant guild:
Upper
tree Layer: Black Walnut- The
beautiful assassin of the plant world.
Black Walnuts look gorgeous, but they emit a toxin called
juglone which, kills all other life including tomatoes, asparagus, puppies,
and pretty much all worthwhile living things. Ruefully, poison ivy is immune to
juglone.
Secondary
tree Layer- Buckthorn-The
Jar Jar Binks of the plant world. This small tree pops up
everywhere. It is obnoxious, and
absolutely no one likes it. Buckthorns make approximately one ga-jillion
berries per small tree, which fall into my lawn in such abundance that instead
of grass, we just have tiny buckthorn trees coming up everywhere. I’m not sure
which I would rather run over with a lawnmower—baby buckthorn trees, or Jar Jar
Binks himself.
Shrub
Layer- Multi-Flora Rose- The Sitcom Mother-in-law of the plant world. You know the show Everybody Loves Raymond? Multi-flora Rose
is kind of like the Mother-in-law from that show. Sure, she smells kind of
good, in a floral old-lady sort of way.
In fact, you may even want to invite her over, but pretty
soon she becomes invasive—not respecting your boundaries, and criticizing the
way you load your dishwasher. It’s best to eradicate her immediately.
Vine
Layer- Poison Ivy- The Poison Ivy of the plant world. I
gave it this title because I can’t think of anything worse than Poison
Ivy. Let’s be clear. Poison Ivy is
the ABSOLUTE WORST. I hate
everything about Poison Ivy. If I
could obliterate poison ivy from the face of existence, I would do it without a
second’s hesitation. When I was a little girl, I got poison ivy in my
EYEBALLS. One of my husband’s many
charming qualities is that he doesn’t get poison ivy, and he can go before me
into the fray, wiping out any poison ivy in our path and clearing the way for
me to do yard work. He is a total hero.
The way these four plants assisted each other was really quite impressive. The Black Walnuts released juglone, which cleared the understory of any competitor plants. The multifloral rose created a thicket of inviting bird habitat for the feathery invaders that gorged themselves on buckthorn berries and dropped the seeds across our lawn. The poison ivy provided a calf-high groundcover that thwarted any enterprising young home owners who foolishly dreamed of cleaning the area up.
That is, until Sean entered the picture. I'll never forget the sight of him--in his carhart overalls, charging across the landscape with his chainsaw and his work gloves, and his beard blowing in the wind. He chopped, sawed, shredded, and dug-- looking exactly like Hercules-- and protected his sweet wife (and her eyeballs) from the perils of the monstrous poison ivy and it's botanical cohorts. Maybe the plants will move on this Spring--seeking out backyards with less rugged heroism and fewer eyeball vendettas-- but maybe they won't be so wise. Maybe they will come back, and if they do, we'll be ready for them. Oh yes, we'll be ready...
Here is the hillside when we moved in. I know it looks lush and green, but literally everything living on it had to be destroyed.
That is, until Sean entered the picture. I'll never forget the sight of him--in his carhart overalls, charging across the landscape with his chainsaw and his work gloves, and his beard blowing in the wind. He chopped, sawed, shredded, and dug-- looking exactly like Hercules-- and protected his sweet wife (and her eyeballs) from the perils of the monstrous poison ivy and it's botanical cohorts. Maybe the plants will move on this Spring--seeking out backyards with less rugged heroism and fewer eyeball vendettas-- but maybe they won't be so wise. Maybe they will come back, and if they do, we'll be ready for them. Oh yes, we'll be ready...
Here is the hillside when we moved in. I know it looks lush and green, but literally everything living on it had to be destroyed.
I'm so sorry about the Poison Ivy in your eyeballs! I don't get it either but my little sister wiped with it once when we were little after a backwoods camping trip where we learned about using leaves...
ReplyDeleteI miss you!
Lydia Price (Kitts)