Minnesota Prairie Roots

For years now, I’ve tried to tame my backyard hillside, an open area edged by woods, leading to a nearby park.

Trees once grew here until we cut them down, fearing that someday, during a strong storm, the precariously leaning box elders would crash on to our garage and house.

Phlox

Now, I think, the earth is rebelling, revolting against this onslaught of humanity upon nature.

I tried to tame this land with plantings of hostas, purple coneflowers, black-eyed susans, daisies and whatever other plants I might pick up at a local greenhouse. And for awhile, my efforts worked.

But then, slowly, the wild orange daylilies began creeping back, subtly gaining ground.

Then the raspberry bushes bullied their way in, and I found I kind of liked them.

And, most recently, wild phlox marched onto the hill, setting up camp, marking the land with their, admittedly, beautiful purple flags.

I have surrendered to all but the invading buckthorn, the charging sumac and the warring weeds.

Let the lilies linger, the raspberries reign, the phlox pilfer.

This once wooded land was meant to be theirs, not mine.