For the garden at my house in the country, I’ve decided to go native.  With the plants, that is.  The house is carved out of the woods in Columbia County NY, and the first order of business was removing all of the packaged mulch and phony plants from Home Depot — or rather some mega-nursery in NJ or VA.   Lying dormant underneath the invasive groundcovers were mossy rocks, meadow grasses, wild columbine, Salomon’s seal, and Bee Balm, among other treasures.  

Simple editing (i.e. weeding) and some additions from Project Native nursery are restoring the hillside to its former natural, woodland glory.   The hummingbirds, butterflies, and dragonflies now have a reason to visit.  Although human visitors, used to pansies and geraniums, tell me I need to add some color.  As much as I love color, I urge them not to undervalue leaf texture and branch structure.

Russell Wright collected native plants as well — including once on the shoulder of the Palisades Parkway where he got arrested with a shovel in his hand.  He said the greatest compliment he received was from unsuspecting visitors to his home in Duchess County who asked how he ever found such a pristine piece of woodlands.  They of course had no idea that the entire landscape was designed: to look natural.

 I’ve been thinking about "native" on a national scale.  While working on a design called Stripes N Stars, I’ve been looking at early American samplers and wondering: what is it to be patriotic in the 21st century? For many people (especially in a recession) it means "buy American."    But what is American?  Anything that’s not imported?  If the founders of America had supported this ideology, we wouldn’t have wine (the vines were imported), but we might have bourbon (corn is native.)  But if "buy American" includes technology, we wouldn’t have distillation either.

I’m not a fan of bourbon, but a good white wine is really nice with oysters.  And so maybe "buy local" is a variation on "buy American" I can live with.  Certainly the freshest oysters are local.  And the vines may have come from France at some point, but now California is producing great whites. 

But wait a minute — if the first settlers of America had been so local-minded, they never would have left Europe.  But they did, and as a result America has become a multi-cultural civilization that is enriched by its trade of goods and ideas with other nations.  When it comes to buying habits, we go wrong with the glut of plastic from China making a detour through Wal Mart on its way to the landfill.  And we are right to recalibrate our fridges with our seasons and our climate.  Community supported agriculture farms are a great way to do so and an example of going native in the garden on a large scale.

 When it comes to patriotism,  Patrick Juvet’s brand comes closest to mine.  In his now immortal words, "All the different people/  From all over the world they’re living/ A magic fills the air/ There’s music everywhere/ I love America."  As he goes on to sing, it’s the mixture of rock, funk, salsa, and country western that makes our streets interesting.  Though protectionism might be tempting in a down economy, we can’t forget that pluralism and diversity are what make this country great. 

Back in the garden, I’m still committed to native plants and the insects and wildlife they support.  But I’ve also introduced a few non-natives on the patio.  The Oregon cypress and Japanese black pine are non-invasive, however, and they stay in containers, as befits their status as sojourners.  They enjoy enriched soil and a dependable water source, and the natives don’t seem too jealous.  If anything, they provide contrast, and might even spur a visitor to comment on what a pristine, natural woodland they have as a backdrop.