nature – the melodious garden

Happy Native Plant Week

October 24, 2025October 24, 2025 suzielinn

I don’t know about you, but I never miss a chance to celebrate, especially when celebrating means buying a new plant. Or two. Or ten. Of course, celebrating Texas Native Plant Week requires gardeners (for me, at least) to visit a garden center. Or at the very least, it allows us to promote the many benefits of our wide variety of plants native to this state.

Rick Perry, our former governor, designated the third week of October as Texas Native Plant Week in 2009. Our state’s Arbor Day is also in the fall – the first Friday in November. Now many people may wonder why we celebrate plants in the fall in Texas when many states are already experiencing their first freezes of the season or will soon be buried under a blanket of snow. Fall is actually the best time to plant hardy perennials, trees and shrubs in southern climates, as our temperatures are cooler and rainfall more plentiful. Fall planting gives plants additional time to adjust before our hot and dry summers hit.

Adding native plants – ones that are better adapted to growing in our soils and climate – preserve our water resources, as they require less water once established. As our state’s population continues to grow, our manmade lakes will feel the strain that traditional landscapes require. Water restrictions will to be the norm for most of the state going forward. Native plants also don’t need special treatment to thrive, no fertilizers or special soil mixes. They also provide much needed native habitat and food for our wildlife and help conserve our wildlife populations.

So here we are – Happy Texas Native Plant Week! Have a slice of cake and plant a few natives in your landscape. Here are some of my favorite native plants, in no particular order.

Echinacea, commonly known as coneflower: A wonderful reseeding perennial. A wide variety of insects will nectar on its blooms and songbirds will feast on the dried seeds through the winter. What seeds remain in late winter, I will cut back and scatter throughout the garden. (Coneflower is shown in photograph above.)

Callirhoe involucrata, commonly known as winecups: A rosette of greenery will emerge from its tuberous root in late winter and will scamper up and over and about the garden. It will start blooming in late spring in to early summer. It is dormant in the heat of summer and fall. (Winecup is shown in photograph above.)

Cephalanthus occidentalis, commonly known as buttonbush: I would have a hard time selecting a favorite native plant, but buttonbush would likely be it. I love standing under the small tree when it is in bloom and watching just an outstanding variety of insects nectaring on the orb shaped flowers. Where else can you get a Dr. Seuss style bloom that is so well loved by the insect world? (Buttonbush is shown above.)

Cornus drummondii, commonly known as rough-leaf dogwood: For years – okay, two decades?! – I tried to eliminate this shrubby tree from my garden, as it wants to spread and take over. Alas. I have given in to its lovely blossoms and its willingness to thrive on neglect. Added bonuses: Insects love the blooms and songbirds love the berries. (Rough-leaf dogwood shown above.)

Twenty five years and another lifetime ago, I worked at a small organic garden center in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. We received a much-awaited shipment of native plants. Alas. As the driver opened the back of the box truck, with a cluster of garden center employees standing ready to Ooh and Aw over the plants, horror awaited. The heavy wooden shelf system had collapsed during transit and crushed everything underneath, including a dozen or so rough-leaf dogwood trees. Nearly everything in the truck lay broken and bruised and little was salvageable. That night after work, I took home a tiny broken twig of rough-leaf dogwood. Within two years, I was trying to eliminate it from my garden because it was like the Little Engine That Could. It thought it could grow. It thought it could grow. And grow it did! Now I absolutely love it and am glad I made peace with its determined growing habits.

Callicarpa americana, commonly known as beautyberry: A shrub with clusters of flowers in the spring, followed by brilliant purple berries in the summer and fall. (Beautyberry shown in photographs above and below.)

Calyptocarpus vialis, commonly known as horseherb: There is a native plant for every growing situation and need. This is a fabulous lowgrowing ground cover for shady areas. (Horseherb shown below.)

Monarda fistulosa, commonly known as beebalm: There are many beebalms on the market, but the majority of them are hybridized, non-native varieties. Those tend to succumb to powdery mildew in this area and their flowers lack the nectar of the native variety. Fistulosa is the native one; many garden centers offer it in their herb section. This beebalm is especially loved by butterflies as the nectar is deep within the flower. (Swallowtail butterfly shown on monarda fistulosa in photograph below.)

Penstemon tenuis: A lovely reseeding perennial. This penstemon blooms very early in the spring, at a critical time for insects. The plants are light and airy, with blooms held above the foliage. (Penstemon tenuis shown in bottom two photographs.)

There you have it – some of my favorite Texas native plants. No matter how you celebrate Texas Native Plant Week, I hope you get to enjoy some cake and visit one of the many wonderful garden centers we have throughout our state. We are so fortunate to have a number of locally owned garden centers that were early on the native plant bandwagon and really fought to bring native plants to the mainstream. Please seek them out and support them whenever possible!

All photographs taken in my own garden – zone 8b, southern Denton County, Texas.

gardening, nature

The monarchs are here!

October 23, 2025October 23, 2025 suzielinn

I felt a bit like a mashup of Paul Revere and the poet Richard Le Gallienne today, though instead shouting that the redcoats were coming nor penning about a poem about a brown bird singing in the apple tree and pulling me out to the garden, I was all abuzz that the monarch are here! In my garden! Not one. Plural. Monarchs. The monarchs are here!

My garden happens to sit perfectly along their migration path. Each spring, the monarchs emerge from their winter habitat in Mexico and travel north for the summer. Along the way, they search for milkweed – the monarch’s host plant – to lay their eggs on. But now it is autumn and they are migrating south for the winter and they are in search of fuel – in the form of nectar – for the long journey that still lies ahead of them. Fall blooming flowers are critical for their survival.

Insects may be our canary in the coalmine – the warning sign of environmental troubles ahead. They are the most vulnerable to shifts in climate and weather extremes. As more and more wild lands are destroyed and either conventionally farmed (ie: with chemicals) or paved over for subdivisions and highways, insects – including the beloved monarch butterflies – find less and less food in the wild. Restoring native habitat is critically important. But it doesn’t take an acre to help. Anyone with a bit of space, even those with balconies or a small patio can grow a container of fall blooming flowers for the monarchs to feed on as they are passing through.

My own garden right now looks a bit worse for the wear, as I have been out of commission for the past two months. Thankfully, I do favor plants that not only grew in my absence, some seemed to thrive on my neglect! As I was getting around to leave for physical therapy earlier today, I happened to notice one, two, four, six and more monarchs fluttering about my garden. I quickly grabbed my camera and out to the garden I went. I did manage to make it to therapy on time, though I was still picking dried leaves and seeds off my clothes and shaking them out of my hair as I walked in to my session. As soon as I was finished, it was back out to the garden, which is where The Husband found me some time later, still laughing and flitting about my garden, as I snapped dozens and dozens of photographs of the monarchs.

Following are a few easy steps we all can take to help the monarchs.

1.) No pesticides or insecticides. Even organic ones can and do kill beneficial insects. The majority of insects in the world are harmless. Plants that are grown specifically for butterflies, from their host plants to flowering nectar plants, must be organic.

2.) Water is crucial for butterflies. Provide a shallow basin with pebbles or shells for them to land on.

3.) Trees provide much needed nighttime roosting spots for butterflies, as well as shelter from stormy weather.

4.) Plant natives whenever possible! Many of the hybridized plants on the market have been bred for larger flowers, but they often lack the rich nectar that the native variety have. When shopping for plants, avoid ones that have a specific name in quotation marks or have a trademark emblem next to the name. Those are easily identified as hybridized varieties.

5.) Plant well adapted fall blooming plants that will survive our summer heat and drought. Some examples of plants that will bloom in North Texas during the fall monarch migration include: zinnias, cosmos, tithonia (Mexican sunflower), Mexican mint marigold and pentas. The two flowers the monarchs were nectaring on in my garden were cosmos and zinnia, both well adapted annuals.

6.) Plant a wide variety of plants so you always have something in bloom. A variety of flower colors and flower shapes will also attract a wider variety of butterflies, not just monarchs.

7.) Plant in groupings of three or more as a larger expanse of blooms will be more visible to butterflies flying overhead. This also allows butterflies to nectar from multiple plants without needing to fly off so soon in search of additional food.

Some fall blooming Texas natives include: Anise hyssop (Agastache foeniculum), Frostweed (Verbesina virginica), Gaillardia (Gaillardia aristata), Cardinal flower (Lobelia cardinalis), Ironweed (Vernonia baldwinii), Gregg’s mistflower (Conoclinium greggii), White boneset (Eupatorium serotinum), Zexmenia, Turk’s cap (Malvaviscus arboreus var. drummondii), Prairie verbena (Glandularia bipinnatifida), Gray vervain (Verbena canescens), Aromatic (Fall) aster (Symphyotrichum oblongifolium) and Coneflower (Echinacea purpurea).

Varieties of Rudbeckia/Black-eyed Susan: Rudbeckia hirta, Rudbeckia fulgida, Rudbeckia laciniata, Rudbeckia maxima, Rudbeckia texana, Rudbeckia triloba.

Varieties of Liatris/Gayfeather: Liatris acidota, Liatris aestivalis, Liatris aspera, Liatris elegans, Liatris lancifolia, Liatris punctata, Liatris tenuis.

Lantana urticoides is native to this area. There are numerous other lantana varieties available — a few are perennial, but many on the market are annuals in our area. Special note: The berries on Lantana urticoides are poisonous.

Fall blooming salvia varieties include: Pitcher sage (Salvia azurea), Scarlet sage (Salvia coccinea), Mealy sage (Salvia farinacea), Autumn sage (Salvia greggii).

Keep calm and garden on and consider planting a butterfly garden.

All photographs were taken October 22nd, 2025, in my southern Denton County, Texas, garden. I have organically gardened this piece of earth – a large suburban lot – for 30 years.

I meant to do my work today by Richard Le Gallienne

I meant to do my work today—
   But a brown bird sang in the apple tree,
And a butterfly flitted across the field,
   And all the leaves were calling me.

And the wind went sighing over the land,
   Tossing the grasses to and fro,
And a rainbow held out its shining hand—
   So what could I do but laugh and go?

gardening, nature

Spring flew swiftly by…

July 3, 2025 suzielinn

“Now is it as if Spring had never been,
And Winter but a memory and dream,
Here where the Summer stands, her lap of green
Heaped high with bloom and beam…” ~ Madison Julius Cawein

Spring came and went in a blink of an eye and somehow it is July already, the midpoint of the calendar year. The garden is indeed heaped high in bloom – daylilies, hibiscus and coneflowers, oh my! Such a riot of colors! Sometimes color combinations in my garden are planned. Other times, they are quite accidental, as is the case of the lavender Monarda fistulosa (bee balm) and the bright orange of Bright Lights Cosmos. (Shown below.)

Thomas Edison is reported to have only kept a personal diary for a few short days while on a vacation in 1885, but one of his few entries is perfectly poetic:

Arose early, went out to flirt with the flowers.

I feel much the same way each morning. What a delight it is to stroll the garden, camera in hand, and flirt with the day’s flowers and whisper a soft “Hello” to the bees buzzing about.

The hardy hibiscus, with their long pistil and ample supply of pollen, lures in bumblebees galore. (Shown above) Bumblebees are quite territorial and it is not uncommon to witness a rumble and a tumble as two fight over their garden space. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law” clearly does not apply to pollen and bumblebees!

“Nature is always beautiful to those who always look for beauty in her.” ~ The Harvest of a Quiet Eye: Leisure Thoughts for Busy Lives by John Richard Vernon

In the bug world, there are beneficial insects and harmful insects and those straddling the middle as either sometimes good/sometimes bad or neither overly good nor overly bad. There are beautiful insects, such as the monarch butterfly or the luna moth. And then there are ugly or creepy insects, such as, well… I don’t want to disturb my readers so we will leave ugly and creepy to your imagination. At first glance, robber flies (shown below) may not be as beautiful as, say, a lady beetle, but they are still… well, Beauty can be in the eye of the beholder, amiright? There is a primitive, utilitarian beauty to the humble robber fly. Large eyes. Long legs. Both beneficial in their quest for prey. Which brings me to their other status in the bug world. Robber flies are beneficial because they kill harmful insects, such as grasshoppers and leafhoppers. Alas. They also eat butterflies and dragonflies, which puts them smack in that middle ground. Beneficial? Yes. Sometimes. …If only we could direct them as to what they should be preying on…

A number of lizards call my gardens home, for which I am eternally grateful. However, they, too, are a species that have both beneficial and sad dining habits. The anole, shown below, had just eaten a grasshopper when I snapped this photograph. Knowing Texas summers and baseball bat size grasshoppers go hand in hand, I am appreciative of this fella’s hard work and dedication to taking one down. I will chose to overlook his ability to also take down dragonflies.

As a child, I memorized Richard Le Gallienne’s poem, “I meant to do my work today.” The words still bubble up in my soul whenever I feel the pull of nature. “I meant to do my work today – but a brown bird sang in the apple tree and a butterfly flitted across the field…”

This morning, I found myself with five extra minutes before I needed to leave for a class at the gym, so I grabbed my camera and headed to the back gardens. Not one, but four butterflies flitted across my garden! Gulf fritillary butterflies (shown above and below) had found my garden and were busy dancing about, depositing their eggs on my passionvine – Mother Nature’s way of giving my garden an A+, gold star and seal of approval all in one wonderful moment. As the poem goes, “What else could I do but laugh and go?” And what fun it was to photograph them!

“Here rest your wings when they are weary;
Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
Come often to us, fear no wrong;
Sit near us on the bough!
We’ll talk of sunshine and of song,
And summer days, when we were young…”
~ To a Butterfly by William Wordsworth

The year has gone by much too fast, as it always has a way of doing the older we get. But here’s to slowing down and enjoying the garden and spending time in nature whenever we can.

“Spring flew swiftly by, and summer came… The earth had donned her mantle of brightest green, and shed her richest perfumes abroad. It was the prime and vigour of the year, and all things were glad and flourishing.” ~ Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens

(All photographs taken in my Southern Denton County, Texas, garden between mid-June and July 3rd.)

gardening, nature

The first snow of the season

January 10, 2025January 10, 2025 suzielinn

“I’ll know I am growing old when I no longer thrill to the first snow of the season.” ~ Lady Bird Johnson

North Texas had their first – and maybe only – snow of the season yesterday, January 9th. Mother Nature’s gift to me on my 57th birthday – inches and inches of white fluffy snow. The forecast called for the snow to end overnight but, at noon, it was still softly falling.

“He brewed his tea in a blue china pot, poured it into a chipped white cup with forget-me-nots on the handle, and dropped in a dollop of honey and of cream. He sat by the window, cup in hand, watching the first snow fall. ‘I am,’ he sighed deeply, ‘contented as a clam. I am a most happy man.'” ~ Ethel Pochocki, from Wildflower Tea

A Texas snow day is the perfect time to slow down, brew a pot of tea, pull out the seed catalogs and dream of warmer days ahead.

“Anyone who thinks that gardening begins in the spring and ends in the fall is missing the best part of the whole year, for gardening begins in January with the dream.” ~ Josephine Neuse

A garden is never “finished” for it is ever evolving, changing over the seasons, as either the gardener or Mother Nature intervenes. I continue on my wellness journey with dreams and plans to grow even more of our food this year, as the work and the harvests nourish and strengthen both my body and soul. I am still enamored with the concept of food forests, mimicking Mother Nature in the suburban fruit and veg garden, but changes will be made this year for I have realized that I tend to let the garden grow feral by late in the summer. I don’t have the heart to pull out the aggressive reseeders. Passionvines that scrambles and smothers everything in its path yet feeds the caterpillars of the gulf fritillary butterfly. An unknown variety of salvia that draws bees from far and wide. Garlic chives that attract and feed late summer butterflies. My solution is to strategically add raised beds, dedicated areas just for vegetables – no aggressive reseeders allowed zones. Will this work? I don’t know. But I am hopeful that this also will give me more areas to grow root crops that struggle in our clay soils. I have amended our soil with organic matter constantly over the nearly 30 years at this property but it simply remains too heavy in wide sections of the property. If nothing else, it further proves that, yes, a crazy plant lady lives here!

“I suppose it all started with the snow. You see, it was a very special kind of snow — a snow to make the happy happier and the giddy even giddier… for it was the first snow of the season. And as any child can tell you, there’s a certain magic to the very first snow.” ~ Romeo Muller’s Frosty the Snowman

“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, ‘Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.'” ~ Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking-Glass And What Alice Found There

I have collected Campania statuary for more than a quarter of a century now, which is an odd thing to say. A quarter of a century. Y2K. Wasn’t that just yesterday?

The birdbath above is not mine, though it presently resides in my front garden, a daily reminder to live each day to the fullest. I am bird bath sitting for a friend, married in the year 2000, as her life has taken some unexpected turns due to cancer and fulfilling dreams. We worked together many moons ago, pre-motherhood for both of us. Our children are grown now, though in my mind my boy still loves Ralph, the motorcycle riding mouse. (Photograph below.)

The year 2000 seems so long ago and yet feels like yesterday. My friend and I now share a connection no one wants – both of our husbands have cancer. I am reminded of the quote, “To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.” Gardening is an act of hope – an act of defiance! – that even though dark days may lie ahead, spring will come again. And with it, the season of renewal, of rebirth. Just as the plants again spring forth from the ground, so does our belief in tomorrow. It’s no coincidence that seed catalogs flood our mailboxes in the longest nights of winter.

While I have battled chronic autoimmune issues most of my life, my husband had always been so healthy. In a blink of an eye, that changed. One beautiful sunshiny May day in 2024, he was healthy. The next day, he was a cancer patient.

My husband is a hardcore cyclist, often biking 50 or more miles after working a full day in the office. Biking is in his veins. He loves the adrenaline of the open road, powered by his own two legs and the energy within two thin wheels.

I have a thing for old wheels. I, too, love the energy that is held within each circle, though from a philosophical point of view and not a physical one. In the weeks after my husband’s diagnosis, I stacked up the old bike wheels scattered about my garden and created a trellis of hope. (Photograph above.) The energy within each simple wheel is the energy that powers us through life. My trellis of hope is leaning a bit at the moment, a wayward passionvine is frozen in place, but it still brings me comfort and peace. None of us make it out of this life without some troubles and traumas. We can either perish under the weight or we can ride on, looking for sunnier days ahead.

“The first fall of snow is not only an event but it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of world and wake up to find yourself in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment, then where is it to be found? ~ J. B. Priestley

(All photographs taken today, Friday, January 10, 2024, in my southern Denton County, Texas, garden.)

gardening

Goodbye 2024

January 1, 2025January 1, 2025 suzielinn

As 2024 closes out, I find myself wandering about the garden, reflecting on what this year has been and looking ahead to 2025. I am filled with a gardener’s optimism at new opportunities and new adventures that await in the coming year.

2024 was a year of lessons and growth, filled with good times and challenges and many unforgettable moments.

Perhaps the most unforgettable moment of all was in January when we (finally!) removed three large cedar elms from the back section of my gardens. (Photo below…) The trees sprouted some years prior, seeds blown in from a neighbor’s tree. As junk trees tend to do, these grew fast and furious, a daunting task to cut down.

This is forever an unforgettable moment as the last of the three trees twisted as it fell and landed with a Plop. Right in the neighbor’s in-ground hot tub! Thankfully the tree didn’t damage anything and the neighbor wasn’t too upset at us. But it was quite a chore getting the tree up and out of the water and up and over the fence.

The trees were cut into long sections and now edge my latest vegetable bed. (Photo below…) I had plans to construct a greenhouse out of an old metal gazebo but record rainfall this spring led to a rather lush garden by June and I didn’t have the heart to remove or cut back any of the plants to make room for the project. Perhaps this will be my first project of 2025, as nothing is stronger than a gardener’s wintertime optimism.

2024 was my 29th year gardening this same patch of earth and what a year it was – for rain! By early June, the ground was so saturated and water was standing the entire length of our property along the west side of our house. I ended up digging a trench to push the water away from our garage to the ditch that runs behinds our property line. (Photo below…) Eventually, I will need to decide what to do with the trench – fill it in with soil or construct a dry creek bed? It currently sits much the way it was in June, though thankfully drier now.

This last day of 2024, we are now roughly six weeks past our average first freeze of the season, a good example of the extremes that make up an average. We have been down near freezing a few times and have even had a few mornings with a light frost on the ground, but nothing cold enough – or not cold for long enough – to kill off tender plants. Sure, the tomato plants look brutal, nearly ten months now since their planting date, and the harvests are much smaller now, but these bonus harvests are such a treasure in wintertime. (Photo below…) Eggplant and peppers are also still growing and producing, though the first full week of January looks to finally bring us a killing freeze.

Not to be outdone by the tender vegetables, even the tropical mandevilla vine is still blooming. (Photo below…)

One of my gardening goals for 2025 is to reign in the self-seeding passionvine. I have vowed to only let a handful grow, as they have a habit of popping up everywhere and scrambling over everything in their path. I love the blossoms and the fact that the vine is the host plant for the gulf fritillary butterfly. Alas. The vines sure can get out of hand by the end of summer! Our weather has been so mild lately that a few caterpillars are still munching down on the foliage.

This spring and early summer, many of my noontime meals were entirely from my garden, though the heat of summer and sudden switch from too much rain to not a drop of rain was quick and intense and brutal on the garden. Fall rains have been nicely spaced out and many of the “winter greens” are doing quite well, including the Red Dragon cabbage. (Shown in photo below…)

Red Giant mustard (shown below) is also doing very well. In 2025, I would like to write more about my chronic health issues and what prompted me to switch from ornamental gardening to edible gardening, along with my reasons for growing vibrantly hued vegetables.

I planted a number of dwarf ornamental pomegranates (shown below) about six years ago when I was in transition – a former ardent rose gardener but not yet a veg and fruit gardener. I have yet to decide what to do about these pomegranates. Yes, they are beautiful! Alas. The fruits are not suitable to eat and they are taking up valuable real estate. I have since planted a number of edible pomegranates, though they are still a few years away from producing a crop.

And on that note – Here’s to a healthy and active new year. May 2025 be filled with many happy days spent in the garden, either hard at work or simply meandering about barefoot. Be well, my gardening friends.

(The first two photographs were taken in January 2024. The third photo was taken in June 2024. The remaining photographs were taken December 30, 2024. All photos taken in my southern Denton County, Texas, garden.)

gardening, nature

What good are bugs? And what good is henbit anyway?!

February 22, 2023February 22, 2023 suzielinn

It’s henbit season here in North Texas. When lines are drawn. Either you are for henbit or you are against henbit. A middle ground is sometimes found. Against henbit in the front yard. For henbit in the back. Where the neighbors can’t see it. We have probably all had that one neighbor at one time or another that would saunter over and give some unsolicited advice on lawncare. Thankfully mine moved away several years ago. I am thinking the couple that bought that house must be for henbit. Or their lawn crew just hasn’t been called out yet. Right now, their front lawn is a blaze of lavender flowers, bees buzzing about. I walked past it earlier today and couldn’t help but smiling, for I know somewhere in the universe, the previous homeowner is cringing and just knows that his once tightly manicured and chemically induced lawn has gone to the bees.

As I was mulling over today’s blog topic, I glanced over at the bookcase that holds many of my gardening books and one book’s title – out of the hundred or so books – jumped out at me. What good are bugs?

My past few posts have focused on the quote “If something is not eating your plants, your garden isn’t part of the ecosystem.” I have highlighted two beautiful butterflies, along with their caterpillar stage and their specific host plants. I think supporting the life cycles of butterflies is something we can all agree on, right? But what about other bugs? Do we have to love them all? And for that matter. What good is henbit anyway?!

What Good Are Bugs? Insects In The Web Of Life, written by Gilbert Waldbauer, may be a heavier read than most people are interested in, but it does a great job explaining exactly why humans need bugs in our lives. (And, thankfully, it can be read in bits and pieces, as that is how I tend to read non-fiction.)

We know – and appreciate – that our food supply is dependent on insects for pollination. But do we stop and appreciate the bugs that are on the clean up crew? The ones that eat and break down dead animals and plants, not to mention animal dung? Without them, the planet would look vastly different than it does. Insects are also important food sources for wildlife further up the food chain. If we eat eggs and/or chicken, than we also need to appreciate that free range chickens are an insect eating machine.

Where does henbit fit in this picture? Henbit starts blooming in mid- to late-winter, a time when very few plants are blooming, yet this is also a time when many insects are venturing out on warm, sunny days, in search of nectar.

Do you remember the old advertisements for lawn chemicals? Chances are the man in the ad is smoking a cigarette or a pipe while applying whatever chemical is being touted. The children and family dog are probably nearby, playing on the lawn, still wet from the chemicals. The wife is likely standing on the patio, wearing high heels and a dress, smiling. Some ideals are hard to break from. Others are easy to kick to the curb. We can look at the old advertisements today and see them as quaint. A different era. Smoking hasn’t been allowed in advertisements since the Nixon administration. But what about the ideal that our lawns must be sprayed with chemicals and devoid of all life except for the desired green grass? When are we going to kick that to the curb?

Thankfully, society is starting to wake up. More and more, we see and hear about people that are planting for pollinators, allowing areas of weeds to bloom, eliminating chemicals, installing native wildlife habitats, the list goes on and on. Imagine if even a quarter of the world did just one or two small things to help wildlife, the changes would ripple out, for we really are intertwined in one giant web of life.

Not convinced on the benefits of henbit? What if I told you it is also edible? And who doesn’t love some free food?! The top growth of henbit (stems, leaves and flowers) can all be eaten and is quite delicious in salads. Wild greens, such as henbit and dandelion, are also high in nutrients.

I have allowed a few of my winter greens to flower, as an added nectar source for the insects. The photograph below shows the lavender blooms of henbit, along with the bright yellow bloom of a winter green. Several types of kale are also shown.