Planting plan for my lawn replacement, featuring native, pollinator-friendly, and drought-tolerant plants.
Over the past two years, I’ve dreamed of replacing my lawn with a native, drought-tolerant, wildlife-friendly garden. As with all major projects, it didn’t go precisely as planned. I’m sharing my successes and misadventures so others in the Puget Lowlands who are considering replacing their lawns with a habitat garden can avoid repeating my mistakes.
I’ll update this post with links as I go.
Phase One: Planning
- Layout Design
- Plant Selection
Phase Two: Preparation
- Removing the Lawn
- Soil Testing & Amendment
Sod cutting the lawn.
Phase Three: Installation
- Plant shopping
- Plant layout & planting
- Lighting & hardscape
Phase Four: Survival
Phase Five: Future!
- Incorporating bulbs
- Adding more mulch & fixing the soaker hoses
I’m in the process of buying a house – something I’ve been putting off for quite a while, now, as my partner and I debate where to live.
Sure, we know we want to live in Washington State. But where in Washington?
There are so many possible ecosystems in which to make our home. Do we belong to the sea or the mountains? Given we can only travel so far in a day, we must choose our daily habitat.
Where we live is a framework for the structure of our lives. What is nearby? How long does it take to get to the places I go frequently? Where do I want to spend most of my time?
Is location destiny?
The Land is Part of Your Identity
In the pepeha, traditional Maori introduction, you introduce yourself with your mountain and your river. Your mountain and river are a part of you, a mark of where your home and heart lie. I’m not Maori, but I embrace this explicit relationship to the land. But what makes a mountain my mountain?
What Makes a Mountain Your Own?
Enjoying madrones, my favorite type of tree, while hiking on Mount Tamalpais in California
Each person has different criteria. I want a mountain that holds its own, but isn’t necessarily the biggest or most impressive specimen. I’d prefer a mountain that I can visit frequently. I want to know its name and recognize it from all angles.
I am trying to adopt a new mountain. Four years ago I transplanted myself from California to Washington. Begrudgingly I traded my California driver’s license for a Washington one, my California voter’s registration for a Washington one — but my heart finds it harder to swap my mountain for a new one. Although I’m consciously trying to pick a mountain near my home in Seattle, I feel that choosing your mountain is more emotional than rational.