from bare yard to blooming haven: three years of change
I still remember standing in my backyard in 2017, staring at the patchy grass and wondering if I could ever turn it into the lush garden my grandmother once tended. Back then, it was just an idea—a dream inspired by memories of her hands in the soil, passing down stories with every seed. Fast forward to 2020, and my garden has become a neighborhood landmark, filled with native perennials and buzzing bees.
But not everyone sees it the same way. Some of my neighbors, who grew up with perfectly trimmed lawns and imported roses, shake their heads at my wild, pollinator-friendly beds. They say it looks messy, not like the tidy yards of their childhoods. I see healing, resilience, and a connection to our local climate—especially as droughts and storms become more common here in the Midwest.
There’s a real tug-of-war between tradition and change. Some folks argue that sticking to old ways keeps our community beautiful, while others, like me, believe embracing native plants is better for the environment and our grandchildren’s future. Sometimes, the local HOA even sends letters about my "unconventional" choices, sparking heated debates at community meetings.
Yet, every time I walk outside and see butterflies dancing over golden coneflowers, I feel a sense of peace—and a bit of rebellion. My garden isn’t just about plants; it’s about honoring the past, adapting to the present, and maybe, just maybe, inspiring others to rethink what a beautiful yard can be.
#gardeningmemories #nativeplants #generationalchange #Gardening
