The term “forest bathing” appears in popular media a lot these days. A recent Washington Post article refers to it as yoga, 30 years ago. If it is new to you, however, you are not alone.
An elderly farmer once told me, "In 90 years of living, I've learned one thing. Change is the only constant." The fall of 2017 would make him smile. Everywhere I look, people are exploring new ideas in land care--and some of them are as old as the hills. If even some of these trends take hold, our individual and commercial landscapes will be notably different in the near future.
Two voices speak loudly these days about landscaping, and they are in opposition. One proclaims the need for neatness along main streets. The other defends the need for midtown bird and insect habitats, which may not have the clean lines of a conventional lawn and landscape.
For most people, the words “grass” and “lawn” go together like mac and cheese. Yet in the month of August, it’s easy to see that some grasses are anything but lawn-like. Low-growing purple love grass offers luminescent splashes of color along roadsides. The airy tops of switchgrass decorate wet fields and woodland edges. American beach grass reduces beach erosion.
Very, very few seeds are produced commercially in the Northeast today. Until the early part of the 20th century, almost all seed was locally produced, harvested, and planted—and thus, regionally adapted to some degree. The mainstream seed industry today, however, emphasizes plants that can deliver a one-size-fits-all performance across a broad geography.
Land care has never been completely straightforward--it took our ancestors thousands of years to learn by trial and error—and today, land care is more complex than ever. Perhaps it should be part of high school education, like driver’s ed or cooking class. As far as I’m aware, though, it isn’t.
I have been a fan of rain barrels for many years. (I own eight of them and wouldn't be without them.) I have also written about these handy devices on several occasions, most recently this week in the community papers for ZipO6/TheDay.
The mild winter gives way to a spring calendar--but, gardeners, not so fast! For some ideas on what to do--and not do--in the March landscape, please read on:
It was February 25 when I put five milk jugs outdoors for my first experiment with milk jug growing. On March 30 that year, there was plenty of germination. By the end of April, I was harvesting spinach.
Dust off your ruby slippers and click your heels. When it comes to restoring nature, there's no place like home. That’s the message of a new documentary "Hometown Habitat: Stories of Bringing Nature Home."
It features seven nature-renewal initiatives where people landscape with nature—rather than in spite of it.