SUSTAINABILITY
“Sustainability” has become such a buzz word, that some people cringe when they hear it. While the word “sustainability” may be suffering from a terminal case of incessant repetition, I like to think that gardeners have been maintaining the practice for millennia. Yes, there was a time, beginning just after World War II, when American home gardeners became enamored of the chemical compounds that banished pesky bugs and weeds. At about the same time, many of them discovered the joys of gas-powered lawn mowers, which made it easy to maintain a pristine suburban lawn. Post war homeowners who grew up hand pulling endless weeds and pushing reel lawn mowers exalted in the increased free time afforded by these chemical and mechanical conveniences. It was progressive at the time. Knowledge of and concern about the environmental cost came later.
But we are counting the cost now and doing something about it. The current slow-to-recover economy and a renewed focus on environmentalism have inspired people to compost, raise organic vegetable gardens and think of new ways to reuse everything from plastic plant pots to old garden equipment. On trips to the bookstore, I occasionally see books with titles like How the Irish Saved Civilization. I have yet to see one titled How Gardeners Saved Civilization, but I think the evidence is clear. Once upon a time, a very long time ago, someone figured out how to plant seeds and raise food. We have been eating better ever since. Now gardeners are leading the sustainability parade.
Though the word itself makes me itch, I find myself thinking about sustainability whenever I go out in my garden. I do a lot of trimming, raking and weeding and produce a bumper crop of garden waste. My goal is to make sure none of it lands at the curb on trash pick up day. Some goes to the composter. Most of the sticks and branches get broken down to a certain size and stockpiled for use as plant supports, but more than once I have wished that I had a talent for making rustic garden structures. In windy months, I could construct all kinds of trellises and tuteurs out of downed branches. If winter goes on long enough this year, I may just figure out how to do that.
Last week I had an ecological epiphany while discarding the Halloween decorations. I was attempting to toss a large pumpkin into the composter, when I ran into serious interference from a wayward wisteria vine. Regular readers know that wisteria is one of the banes of my existence. A long ago resident of the neighboring property planted it to adorn an archway between the properties. It flourished, traveled and put down roots wherever it rested. Now, it comes up everywhere, threatening to engulf the fence between my property and my neighbor’s, twining its way up trees and popping up out of the ground many yards from its home territory. As I was preparing to cut it back, I had an idea. Liberating a good quantity of it from a nearby tree, I stripped the wisteria of its leaves. I upended a very large plastic plant pot, wound the vine around it in a wreath shape and secured it with some florist’s wire that I found under the Chinese menus in the kitchen drawer. A quick walk around the garden netted me plenty of decorative materials, including bright, plump rose hips; goblet-shaped rose-of-Sharon seedheads and miscanthus stalks topped by feathery plumes. I plugged all the plant material into the interstices between the layers of wisteria vine. At the end of about twenty minutes, I had a very nice wreath, and as I hung it on the front door, I had the distinct impression that a sustainable halo had perched itself atop my head. My wreath is eminently renewable. When the ornaments begin to look shabby, I’ll replace them with other dried materials. The wreath and everything on it are biodegradable and I will have no regrets about eventually flinging the whole thing into the composter.
It occurs to me that I have an awful lot of wayward wisteria. Maybe there is a future for me in wreath making.
Not everyone has these kinds of resources, but each of us can pursue sustainability in his or her own backyard. More people would probably do so if the media didn’t persist in making the whole thing sound like a tedious moral crusade. Sustainability should be a natural by-product of every day life. A good many gardeners already save and re-use plastic plant pots, downed branches and rocks that surface in the course of planting. Instead of allowing the baggage-laden word “sustainability” to infest my brain, I think of such practices as good old fashioned thrift. Somehow that makes me feel exceptionally virtuous, not to mention fashionable in these tough times.