As we evolve our gardens to be more ecologically focused, let’s set an intention of abundance — as in brimming with color and texture, yes, but also brimming with life.
Compared to more traditional, formal landscapes, such native-plant-forward designs are often labeled looser, naturalistic or wildish, all perfectly accurate descriptors.
But the word “abundance” really gets at both the visual and functional aspects these plantings embody, and having it in mind as a goal can clarify plant choices and placements, said Kelly D. Norris, a Des Moines-based ecological landscape designer.
“It’s a big idea and it’s a very generous idea to bring to a place,” said Mr. Norris, founder of The Public Horticulture Company and author of “Your Natural Garden: A Practical Guide for Caring for an Ecologically Vibrant Home Garden.”
A key element of the thinking that manifests abundance, he said, is that, “At least once in each season there’s got to be something that just is kind of charismatically everywhere.”
It’s not just the wow factor he seeks, though. Each season’s headliner plants must be chosen for factors in addition to good looks, such as their roles as floral resources or host plants. Looking abundant isn’t enough; a design must provide an abundance of diversity-supporting services, too.
As attention-commanding as they are, the headliners don’t act alone. Even the stunning natural phenomenon of a desert superbloom isn’t a monoculture, Mr. Norris points out, though it may read as such in its big moment.
“Nobody’s first reaction would be, ‘Oh, there’s just too much diversity here. I can’t make sense of it,’” he said. “They would say, ‘Wow, look at that field of California poppies.’”
Look closer, though, he added, “When you’re actually out walking in it, you’re suddenly aware that there is an immense amount of diversity kind of lurking beneath the overt face of the poppies.”
Interested in adopting the abundance mantra? I asked Mr. Norris for some guidance for getting started. Our conversation was edited for length and clarity.
Where should I begin in developing my plant palette?
We think about the landscape in three layers, as a kind of prototype for just about any ecological system: matrix, structure and vignettes. It’s not foolproof, but it’s certainly a great schematic beginning for many different kinds of archetypes.
We often address structure first, which is just understanding what the canopy looks like if there is a canopy, and if there’s not a canopy, is there a shrub layer, or coarse-textured, tall perennials? What’s the scaffold to hold the rest of it together?
We want to think about the matrix layer, too, which is often very foundational and very functional — the green mulch. Before we even start thinking about any kind of floral aesthetic, the first topics of consideration are really structure and matrix.
When we get to the question of things starting to look really lovely and being resourceful, then we’re into that vignette section. And the very first thing we want to start thinking about is what anchors each of our seasons, what we call the vignette anchors.
Which plants make the best vignette anchors?
Everything can’t be everywhere all at once in a system that you design. But certainly nature shows us that there’s kind of a Pareto Principle out there, an 80/20 rule. There’s a small number of players doing a vast amount of the work.
A few years ago I was asked to give a lecture, and I came up with the title “Embracing Generalists,” because I think there’s a case to be made for species that are kind of everywhere — for instance, black-eyed Susan, or Rudbeckia hirta, which is a useful annual or biennial that colors up young plantings and keeps them vibrant while slower things establish.
Maybe 10, 15 percent — who knows what the exact number is — of the whole North American flora would fit that generalist profile. But a great place to start is to give credit to what’s everywhere already as a way to start building a foundation for a planting.
We do so much work in the Midwest, if we ignored Penstemon digitalis in our spring palette we would just be missing spring. It is a charismatic defining species of spring, and its floral phenology here in the Upper Midwest is timed almost perfectly with the arrival of ruby-throated hummingbirds.
I suppose the list could go on: There’s Liatris, the blazing stars, in the summer, asters in the fall — like our Symphyotrichum oblongifolium, aromatic asters that feature in our work.
So it’s not always as if the question is, “Where’s our aster for fall? Where’s our Rudbeckia for summer?” because it’s not a generic formula. But there are things that we go back to frequently because of their value in being abundant players.
The regional lists of pollinator-friendly plants on the Xerces Society website may help get people started identifying such key players. Charismatic species often capture our attention as much as they whet pollinator appetites.
Lavish use of these generalists doesn’t just add colorful eye appeal for us and avoid the pitfall of too many different “onesies” in a design. Big numbers also serve to shout, “Hey, I’m over here. Come get me,” directing pollinators to abundant resources.
How does color figure into your design process?
I almost never think about color until 11:59. I want the landscape to work first. The color aspect is choosing which sprinkles go on the sugar cookies at Christmas time; that’s a final detail to me.
But what ends up happening, of course, is that when you start thinking about the associations of plants in place, there are these kind of inherent phenomena of color combinations that can be associated with particular places. You couldn’t create a garden in a prairie context without gold and yellow in August and September; it wouldn’t be possible.
A lot of native gardens we see on social media are still fairly traditional in the way they use species more singularly than abundantly.
Sometimes there’s something I’ve heard called native-plant tokenism. It’s like, “Oh, look, I have my native plants in this corner.”
I just always want to push people to understand plants more. You may already have a lot of species diversity, but the next task is just adding more plants. It’s about picking a couple of abundant players and turning up the volume, which not only turns up the abundance of that species, it amplifies the resources that are available within the network of pollinators that are using that and five and 10 other things at the same time.
This is an example of emergence in complex systems theory. More is more, but it’s not simply linear. It’s compounding. You start to increase the patch of Rudbeckia in your front yard from three to 15 plants, but the effects of that are not just fivefold. It’s much more complex, and so there’s an amplification of both the aesthetic and the floral resource.
I would love for there to be more abundant elements in more gardens, whether that just means one or a few species, because it would produce some pretty dramatic results for the average gardener to readily observe.
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