Earlier this year I posted a couple short essays on some of the things that I hoped to accomplish this year. The overarching theme was a narrowing of focus to developing the restoration into a source of material for other restorations of “hard to access” species found in my prairies. That will mean choosing species to focus on, finding alternative seed sources to broaden the genetic base available for the future and to increase populations in order to both allow evolution to wield its ratchet and to provide a significant seed source for others. Thus, my goals in order of emphasis are: 1.) Creating a living seed bank of a group of species adapted to this area, 2.) Use my restorations as a site for encouragement, experimentation, education and a hub for building a community of restoration practitioners, and 3.) Integrate the restoration with the larger neighborhood and cattle grazing to maximize ecosystem services. Here’s one of the experiments.

The opening picture is a typical prairie hillside in my pasture. It’s bookended by a couple Nuttall’s violets (Viola nuttallii), with several bastard toadflax (Comandra umbellata) and several other small forbs just starting to peek through. The grassy types are Kentucky bluegrass (Poa pratensis), needleleaf sedge (Carex diuruscula), prairie junegrass (Koeleria macrantha) and lots of blue grama (Bouteloua gracilis). The area is mostly brown because the blue grama is a warm season species just beginning to send out a few leaves. This is an assemblage that I am hoping to recreate in my restoration because it is so obviously well adapted to my gravelly hills, but most of the forbs/wildflowers are almost impossible to get as purchased seed, and damn hard to gather. Thus, one of my experiments this year is to try a few transplants. Below is one attempt.

As you can see the attempt wasn’t very successful. It’s not as bad as it looks, though, as the violet wasn’t the primary target. the bastard toadflax was. Underneath the soil is perhaps 10 inches of toadflax rhizome which will likely put up a shoot after a while. Rhizomes are much more resilient than a flowering plant is, and I expect it is just fine. In a couple other transplant sites I combined a clump of the needleleaf sedge to see how well that transplants. In all these cases some soil from the relict prairie came along, but the plants were basically bare root transplants. Realizing that my work was a bit shoddy, the next day I replaced my trowel with a tiling spade as my tool of choice and took the time to dig out a larger clump of plants and soil. In the clump below, in addition to the little violet and the toadflax I have a bit of stiff sunflower (also a rhizomatous species), a needleleaf sedge (which is most of the grassy material) and an invisible blanketflower. The sedge is very densely rooted, which meant that digging the clump was difficult, but that once I had it out the 9″ by 6″ by 2.5″ deep island held together and planted easily. I have high hopes for this and flagged it so that it will be easy to observe later. I also cut out a similar sized clump of northern bedstraw (Galium boreale) and split it in half to plant in a couple appropriate spots. The magic of these rhizomatous plants is that they often spread very quickly. A few transplants can make a significant impact after some years. That’s the hope anyway. The ubiquity of these plants across the gravel hills argues for their evolutionary fitness in those sites. They will compete and likely spread. Given the opportunity, they could prosper. Assuming that at least some of the transplants live, I think that takes me pretty close to 130 species in the restoration now.

It’s hard to do very much of this, though. I have limited time and energy, and need to segue into the big project of transplanting several hundred milkvetch seedlings soon. With some help I hope to do a few more relocations, however, and who knows about the future.? If all goes well I have several more targets for some local redistribution. Below is a pussytoes (likely Antennaria neglecta), another rhizomatous plant that makes clonal colonies. And below that is textile onion (Allium textile), which is not rhizomatous, but with the onion bulb for food storage and shallow roots, should be a good candidate for transplanting. Onions are extremely hardy to store and transplant in a garden, and I’m hoping their wild brethren are as well.

It all makes me wonder what the next goals will be. While the changes are evolutionary rather than revolutionary, several turns of the wheel have created a very different plan, with outcomes needing different actions, than what I envisioned four or five years ago. In effect, I keep creating new iterations of a business plan to maximize the benefits (analogous to profits) possible with the resources available to me. Hovering over all of it are my physical infirmities, which could preclude the implementation of the plan, and practically insure a new iteration in another year or two. For now, this is the path for 2023. As the poet Dylan Thomas wrote:

“Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

That may seem a bit dramatic for the circumstances, and I may have used the line in an earlier post. No matter. It fits how I feel about my life and the task I have set for myself. What I hope becomes an epic field season has begun.