![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I have a tiny little front yard garden. It came with a couple of sourwood trees, half a dozen oakleaf hydrangeas, "Sky Pencil" Japanese holly, and two one species of bush that I haven't identified yet. (Yeah, I know there's an app for that. The Tickler has it, so I can ask them.)
What's interesting, though, is the ecological succession. When I first moved in, I had lots of bare bark mulch and plenty of golden orb weaver spiders. The spiders are no longer quite so prominent, and clover covers most of the bark mulch now. I haven't tried to remove the clover because a) that would be too much work, b) the bees love it, and c) I don't have anywhere near enough capacity in my little yard waste bin for it. Seriously, I fill that bin weekly for months in the spring & summer as it is just pulling up dandelions & thistles. The Tickler says they've never seen clover grow as tall as it does at my place, and I haven't either.
But wait! There's more! Willowherb, with tiny pink flowers, is a native plant that's volunteered in the last couple of years. I'm also leaving it alone because pretty.
And then, over just the last year, the yarrow arrived in grand style. It's now taller than I am, with plenty of inflorescences. Its biomass rivals the clover, so I'm leaving it alone for the same reasons as the clover.
At this point it's all I can do to keep the lavenders I planted from getting choked by clover or shaded by yarrow. I replaced some hydrangeas with lavender because the former don't handle the dry summers nearly as well. Indeed, a common theme here is drought tolerance: lavender and yarrow come through the dry Seattle summer (yes, we have them) without any trouble, the clover and willowherb turn brown but bounce right back in the spring, and the poor hydrangeas & Japanese hollies just burn unless they get lots of shade. I replaced the sun-damaged holly with oregano & thyme back in the spring, to my great satisfaction.
Since clover is a legume, I can't help wonder if the symbiotic nitrogen fixation that happens in legumes (the subject of my dad's Ph.D. thesis!) is preparing the way for species like willowherb and, more dramatically, yarrow.
What's interesting, though, is the ecological succession. When I first moved in, I had lots of bare bark mulch and plenty of golden orb weaver spiders. The spiders are no longer quite so prominent, and clover covers most of the bark mulch now. I haven't tried to remove the clover because a) that would be too much work, b) the bees love it, and c) I don't have anywhere near enough capacity in my little yard waste bin for it. Seriously, I fill that bin weekly for months in the spring & summer as it is just pulling up dandelions & thistles. The Tickler says they've never seen clover grow as tall as it does at my place, and I haven't either.
But wait! There's more! Willowherb, with tiny pink flowers, is a native plant that's volunteered in the last couple of years. I'm also leaving it alone because pretty.
And then, over just the last year, the yarrow arrived in grand style. It's now taller than I am, with plenty of inflorescences. Its biomass rivals the clover, so I'm leaving it alone for the same reasons as the clover.
At this point it's all I can do to keep the lavenders I planted from getting choked by clover or shaded by yarrow. I replaced some hydrangeas with lavender because the former don't handle the dry summers nearly as well. Indeed, a common theme here is drought tolerance: lavender and yarrow come through the dry Seattle summer (yes, we have them) without any trouble, the clover and willowherb turn brown but bounce right back in the spring, and the poor hydrangeas & Japanese hollies just burn unless they get lots of shade. I replaced the sun-damaged holly with oregano & thyme back in the spring, to my great satisfaction.
Since clover is a legume, I can't help wonder if the symbiotic nitrogen fixation that happens in legumes (the subject of my dad's Ph.D. thesis!) is preparing the way for species like willowherb and, more dramatically, yarrow.
