Locust Light Farm

Hi there,

My mini-meadow enthusiasm is expanding in the bloom of summer. I've realized that, at this moment, my excitement is all about mini meadows* because (here's my new tagline):

mini meadows are manageable!

By manageable, I mean that they're possible for the average gardener to create. I, personally, haven't had the space to cultivate a managed meadow (yet!). But now that I have space to garden, I've been able to establish two (very) mini meadows near my home.

I wrote about my first mini meadow last year. I planted it just outside my house.

Here's a view of that meadow from last August:

In the far right corner, you'll see that tiny Elder tree.

Look how it's changed this year:

Can you see how big the Elder is?!

The Mountain Mint is spreading, the Monarda didyma is humongous, and the Echinacea is growing tall.

The Monarda is actually so big that I'm getting worried about the Boneset, who was huge last year and now is rather crowded out.

It's so joyful to watch even a small garden change from one year to the next. To see how the plants develop and which insects come. I so badly want to create a space where insects and birds return each year, knowing there'll be food. I want to create habitat.

A Mini Meadow Story

I recently started another mini meadow project that came about because of a Catalpa tree.

I gave birth to Althea at home. When you have a baby at home, you get to decide what to do with the placenta. How fun.

I am far too squeamish to consume a placenta, no matter how nutrient-dense it may be. But it also felt weird to just throw it away. So it sat in our freezer for about 8 months until we finally got around to dealing with it. Yes, this is also gross.

The obvious choice was to plant a tree. Surely the oh-so-nourishing placenta would feed the tree, and we could watch the tree grow alongside Althea. Maybe we'd even be those people who are organized enough to take a picture of their kid each year with the tree (spoiler alert: this has not happened).

My friend gifted us a Catalpa tree. I don't remember if we chose a Catalpa tree for practical reasons or romantic ones. There was a Catalpa tree outside my grandma's house on the family farm, and I heard my mom, aunts, and grandma say the words "Catalpa tree" many times in my childhood, only to completely forget about Catalpa until it came time to choose this tree. They are definitely a homestead-nostalgia tree.

At that time, we didn't have space to plant a tree, but there was a need for a shade tree in a corner of our family's pasture, so we planted the sapling and my brother-in-law fenced off the corner so the sheep couldn't eat it.

That tree died.

I'm pretty sure it was because I didn't water it enough (carrying buckets of water all the way down there with Althea on my back was a heavy lift) but I also wondered if we didn't thaw the placenta enough (ew) and the coldness harmed the roots. Whoops.

But now I felt responsible for providing shade, so the following year I planted a pair of Catalpa trees that another friend had started from seed. I managed to keep them alive all year, and they're doing ok this year, though I'm not convinced they're thriving.

This spring, I was weeding their triangle, pulling up thistle, and I realized that I could bring meadow plants down here. They'd spread in a year or so, and by next year we'd have a whole pollinator-and-bird retreat center amid the pasture.

(The pasture also supports insects and birds. But this would help!)

So I dug up portions of Monarda, Mountain Mint, Asters, Echinacea, and even a small Elder root and transplanted them. I added flowers from John: Rudbeckia, Mexican Sunflower, Cosmos, and a Zinnia.

After planting, I carried two full buckets of water all the way down to them. The buckets were heavy. Once there, it occurred to me that I could drive down.

Three years in, I realized that I could use my car to carry the water.

So, I've been watering these plants as much as they actually need. I have high hopes for the Catalpa now.

Mostly, I'm so excited to feel that I'm feeding future insects. I suppose this is one of my life goals now, creating habitat for insects. (And remembering to use tools that make tasks way easier.)

Here are unimpressive photos of the new mini meadow. I'll keep you updated as the summer goes on :)

Who doesn't love a poll? From now on, I'm going to include polls in my emails. Just for fun.

Why did the tree die? Lack of water Cold placenta you didn't visit enough

​Crafting Herbal Mocktails at Grounds for Sculpture​

I have two more mocktails classes coming up!

Learn to craft delicious herbal mocktails (non-alcoholic cocktails) with oxymels, simple syrups, hydrosols, and more! You’ll make your own tasty oxymel (a mixture of honey and vinegar) and receive delicious mocktail recipes to take home, all while sipping delicious mocktails.
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The next class is Saturday:

​Saturday, June 20th, 1:00-3:00 PM

and there's another in July:

​Saturday, July 25th, 1:00-3:00 PM​

yours in mini meadows,

Amanda

*I'm using the word "meadow" to mean "a planting of full-sun herbaceous perennials that are native to my region." This is not what a meadow actually is, as it doesn't feature grass, and is really just a small type of garden installation.

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