By Katie Finch, Senior Nature Educator and Interim Education Projects Manager
Late fall is a time of slowing down, dying off, storing, and saving in the natural world. All this is in preparation for the upcoming winter. If you are a person that tends the land, chances are your thoughts are more about cleaning and covering up. For example, gardeners talk of “putting their garden to bed”.
In November, instead of wrapping things up, I was preparing to plant. Fall is still a good time to put seeds and plants in the ground. But before planting, I had to pull up old carpet placed down earlier this year. Smothering the existing grass and other plants is one of several methods of site preparation for sowing native seeds. It reduces competition and makes space for the new plants to grow.
Following the directions, I put the carpet down for a few weeks to kill the lawn and weeds I was replacing. I then removed it for a few weeks to let any remaining seeds germinate. I replaced the carpet until I was ready to plant this fall.
I was quite impressed with the effectiveness of this method, in some places. There were large sections of bare soil, a perfect blank slate for my new seeds, but not everywhere. My heart sank a little when I notice several patches of pale, shriveled, but still alive Wild Chervil. Part of the reason for the carpet was to try to eliminate this invasive plant from our yard. But after almost three months covered, it was still there.
These weak, white tentacles of stem and leaf were definitely not a robust plant. But a quick investigation of what was under the soil showed healthy looking tap roots, some pretty large. If the carrots in my vegetable garden grew that size, I’d dig them up and roast them for dinner. With that much energy stored in the roots, I knew these plants would recover just fine with some sun and rain. And that is exactly what I didn’t want. In disgust, with some apathy creeping in, I covered them up and called it a day.
Invasive species, like Wild Chervil, did not evolve with the rest of the plants and animals in an ecosystem. They were introduced, intentionally or unintentionally, primarily by humans. They do not support the other life, as well as plants, that are native to an area. At best, they are a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit. At worst, they can cause damage to the environment.
In my own yard, I’ve pulled Garlic Mustard, mowed Wild Chervil, and hacked down Purple Loosestrife in order to replace them with native species. Despite knowing that progress is being made, managing invasive species sometimes feels like a battle, and one that I’m not winning. The main causalities on my side are time, energy, money, and environmental quality. The invasives frequently resurrect themselves and multiply like the multi-headed Hydra of Greek mythology.
At times, I entertain the idea of giving up altogether. All the work just isn’t working and isn’t worth it. For all the time I put into ridding my yard of Wild Chervil, it grows unchecked on the neighboring fields and roadsides. On my outdoor adventures, I see the still green leaves of Garlic Mustard in the woods and the dense stands of Japanese Knotweed along waterways. Will we ever get rid of these plants?
In moments like these, turning to the work and words of others can help. And sometimes they appear at just the right time. At the same time I was discouraged with invasives in my our yard, I saw a call for volunteers to help Chautauqua Watershed Conservancy complete a native planting project along the Riverwalk in Jamestown. I was able to join in for a few hours. Getting my hands in the dirt to do some good work with others was restorative. I look forward to what the space looks like next spring.
Also appearing in a timely manner were the words of Robin Wall Kimmerer. She describes herself as a mother, scientist, decorated professor, and enrolled member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation. A friend shared a quote from a book she wrote. “Even a wounded world is feeding us. Even a wounded world holds us, giving us moments of wonder and joy. I choose joy over despair. Not because I have my head in the sand, but because joy is what the earth gives me daily and I must return the gift.”
Substituting “hope” for “joy” has an analogous meaning. We cannot continue to work against invasive species, or anything we battle against in our lives, without remembering both joy and hope. We need joy for what still is and hope for what could be.
I was also reminded that things do not have to be perfect to be good. Not my carpet-killed section of lawn. Not my entire yard, my life, or the world. We do good work in an imperfect world all the time. Anyone doing any kind of work in the world has made mistakes, been hurt, or failed. But we repair, learn, and keep going, doing our best day to day.
So, the next morning I went back to my yard, pulled up the carpet and imperfectly dug out the remaining roots of the Wild Chervil. I put seeds on the ground, right next to another patch of robustly-growing Wild Chervil that I will tackle another day. For now, I moved the carpet to cover it up. I kept going. And I wonder what it will look like next year. What words and work do you turn to when you need comfort and inspiration to keep doing your good work?
Audubon Community Nature Center builds and nurtures connections between people and nature. ACNC is located just east of Route 62 between Warren and Jamestown. The trails are open from dawn to dusk and birds of prey can be viewed anytime the trails are open. The Nature Center is open from 10:00 a.m. until 4:30 p.m. daily except Sunday when it opens at 1:00 p.m. More information can be found online at auduboncnc.org or by calling (716) 569-2345.
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