Sunday was one of those rare sunny winter days in Portland. Birds were chirping, the kids were riding their bikes in circles, and I decided to tackle some front yard clean up.

My house’s former owner had quite a green thumb—come spring my front yard will be a fun mix of vegetables, fruits, ornamental grasses, and perennials. On Sunday morning it was a soggy, overgrown, and under-pruned mess of fallen leaves and barren branches. I looked around and realized it was all up to me now. This yard is mine and I can either take up where the former owner left off or become that yard on the street that everyone whispers about.

So I began to clean up. I cut back perennials, trimmed the grasses, and raked the leaves. I cleaned out the unknown mess that had taken over one of the containers on my porch and made room for the succulents I plan on putting in it. I’m dedicating the next clear weekend day to recreating these this design found in Debra Lee Baldwin’s new book, Succulent Container Gardens.

In the end, I filled an entire compost bin with yard debris and I didn’t even step into the backyard, which is quickly becoming an unappealing jungle. But my front yard is no longer hiding in shame, and I’m actually excited to do some more work.

Growing up, we were considered to be the country mice of the extended family as we lived on a one acre plot about 45 minutes from the “big city.” All of my cousins, aunts, and uncles lived on medium sized suburban city lots, and it was just understood that we lived in the wild, though my family religiously mowed the lawn at least once a week spring through fall.

Our huge expanse of a front yard was mostly lawn, as was our back yard, and even though we had fir, cedar, and fruit trees placed sporadically about, our street was about as suburban as you can get in the middle of the country.

It wasn’t until I moved to a small suburban apartment complex with an almost perfectly manicured lawn and grounds that I began to realize the similarities between the two places and started wondering what truly is wild.

In comes William Robinson — with Rick Darke — and The Wild Garden. William Robinson pioneered the naturalistic gardening style in Britain (home of the perfectly manicured lawn and sculpted boxwoods), and his style continues to influence gardeners across the globe today.

Timber author Rick Darke updated Robinson’s classic with gorgeous new photography, and some introductory chapters, and he has recently written an article for The American Gardener magazine that describes exactly “What is Wild?” (Link goes to a PDF.)

William Robinson and Rick Darke have shown me that you don’t have to live in the country to have a naturalistic, “wild” space.

I’ve bought a house. A small bungalow built in 1926 that is the perfect size for me, my husband, and our future English Bulldog, Rondo (who does not yet exist, but is to be named after the point guard of the Celtics). And now that I am an official homeowner, I no longer have any reason not to garden. Especially considering the yard I’ve inherited.

One or both of the prior owners clearly enjoyed a little digging in soil. The front yard is a great mix of a tiny patch of grass, a few tufts of native ornamental grasses, several colorful perennials (roses, bleeding hearts, dahlias, and stuff I don’t know the name of), succulents, and herbs. I think I’m going to maintain much of what is already there, through I’d like to pull up a few of the grasses to make room for more succulents and I’d like to replace one side of the grass with a raised bed.

The backyard is where I plan to change the most. Though it is beautiful, I think it’s a little overplanted. I’d like to remove several things to make room for a new raised bed. I’m also planning on taking out the water feature—I am never relaxed or peaceful enough to appreciate a calming flow of water. And, I think the rain in Portland is more than enough. There is already a wonderful area full of peppers, tomatoes, beans, corn, and more veggies that I am going to leave alone (and hopefully not kill). We also have a cold box that is currently occupied by weeds. I don’t know what we’ll put in it yet, but I was thinking lettuces or maybe a few herbs.

I’m going to do my best to document the trials of my first garden. I promise to share the good and the bad and everything that happens in between. Lucky for me, I have access to the full Timber Press library to gather information from along the way…

P.S. These pictures were obviously not taken this month. If they were taken this month they would much more barren, much less green, and — thanks to a little Holiday weekend yard work — much more cut back.

The San Francisco Chronicle featured a great article on John Greenlee and The American Meadow Garden today.

John Greenlee has targeted the Great American Lawn — that notorious sink of fossil fuels, water, chemicals, and spare time — for destruction. “The revolution is clearly on,” he says, adding: “It’s a one-garden-at-a-time revolution.” With his manifesto The American Meadow Garden, sumptuously illustrated by Novato photographer Saxon Holt and published this month by Timber Press, Greenlee is hoping to reach lawn owners ready to change.

You can read the full article here.

The Wall Street Journal ran an enlightening story recently about “turf wars” over water guzzling landscapes and what the EPA hopes to do about it.

The article outlines various municipal programs (incentive-based as well as voluntary) currently in place (primarily in the west) to encourage homeowners to “tear up” their turf lawns in favor of a more sustainable landscape, requiring much less water, fertilizer, and fewer pesticides. They are offering up to $1.50 per square foot of turf grass if you replace that same area with regionally-appropriate, drought-tolerant plants. It’s a neat idea, this “cash for grass.” Makes sense. People will be financially rewarded for ripping up their water-guzzling, synthetic-chemical-sucking lawns and planting better choices for their neighborhood and region.

But, what kinds of plants — besides the obvious cacti and succulents — don’t require much watering or fertilizer, you might ask? Lots of them, actually.

Enter the “new” American landscape: the meadow garden.

A meadow garden, or prairie-style planting, is a shimmering mini eco-system, in which regionally-appropriate grasses combine with colorful perennials to form a rich tapestry that is friendly to wildlife. This type of garden is not only good for the natural environment, virtually maintenance free, and needs far less watering than a turf lawn, but best of all—it requires no mowing, ever! Wow, can you even imagine?

As you can see, we’re not talking not boring, monotonous-looking, either. These are visually stunning, colorful,vibrant, bold, textured, flowering plants, with four-season interest. Bonus — they attract wildlife and are a huge benefit to the natural ecosystem.

It’s fortuitous timing that Timber Press’s new book, The American Meadow Garden: Creating a Natural Alternative to the Traditional Lawn by John Greenlee with photos by Saxon Holt, has just been released this month. It can help homeowners who are choosing to tear up their lawn this fall find the right mix of perennials and regionally appropriate grasses and grass-like plants to suit their local landscapes.

Author John Greenlee has been designing meadow gardens for decades. Dubbed “The Grassman” by The New Yorker, Greenlee (who also happens to be sought-after garden designer to a number of well-known Hollywood celebrities) is just the authority to help navigate and inspire folks to install a meadow garden at home.

And, if you’re interested in more information, check out the new Lawn Reform Coalition website, a newly-formed group of activists and plant nuts who, like John Greenlee, want to help educate others about “killing the lawn.” They’ve banded together in the hopes of creating a national revolution on the topic.

It’s time to get rid of the old-fashioned lawn and embrace a sane and healthy future: the designed meadow.

In the late summer and early fall, my husband and I pack up the car and head out to Smith Rock in eastern Oregon for a little camping and rock climbing. (We like to feel hardcore, even if we still only climb on the “easy” end of the spectrum.)

Smith Rock State Park is in the “high desert” of eastern Oregon, and is truly one of the most spectacular state parks that I have ever been in. In the fall, the foliage around the Crooked River would win all the top awards at design shows if it could be picked up and plunked down in the middle of a convention hall. (Admittedly, the towering rocks do add a fair bit of — ah — “drama” — that would be lost in a convention center. Perhaps a suitable backdrop painting could be arranged?)

The colors alone reduce me to squeaking fits of trying to point out how gorgeous everything is. There are beautiful earth tones, gold grasses and silver grey sage, punctuated with unidentified bright yellow flowers and the dried seedheads of Queen Anne’s Lace. There was also an interesting small plant that I couldn’t identify – it looked kind of like prickly heather – which was turning shades of purple and scarlet. Really! I can’t make this stuff up!

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One of the joys of summer is that I very rarely have to mow my lawn. (I never water it, so I don’t have to worry about that either–hooray for grasses going dormant, I say.) This year I may have called a moratorium on mowing my grass a little bit early–instead of being short and dead all summer, the grass is sending up gorgeous, misty spikes of seeds. I am enchanted.

I have grasses sending seed sprays through my authentically weatherbeaten fence:

I don’t have the skills to capture the gorgeousness, but rest assured, it is a lovely effect. I expect a lifestyle magazine to call at any moment–the weathered-ness of my fence, especially, is hard to beat.

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