Last evening I sat on the steps to the garage, mesmerized by the sight of bees quietly going about their busy business. They were everywhere, wings glowing in the golden light. Tiny ones, big bumbling ones, honey bees and wasps, buzzing endlessly around the small patches of garden I’ve managed to lay down. As predicted by the experts, this host of insects (whoever knew or noticed there were so many kinds?) skip entirely the lovely non-native roses and lilies I’ve snuck into the corners of this early bed and go straight for the liatris, the cardinal flowers, the monarda, the salvia, and those cheerful coneflowers I just put in this week.

I am just beginning on a long journey to understand the importance, why’s and wherefores, and do’s and don’ts of native gardening, and the few plants that I have managed to get into the ground this spring have only just begun to flower. I have already made mistakes - too much sun or too little, too much water, not enough, pretty but not native, native but not pretty - there is so much to do and to learn. I am lucky, however, to have at my disposal a bigger lawn than I deserve, friends to coach me, and enough time, I hope, to build a few more meadow paths and gardens and to see at least a little of my effort bear fruit (so to speak). I am sure that what we do on this small acreage cannot, alone, fix the rapid decline of the ecosystem that surrounds us and threatens its collapse. But these lovely bees’ quick gracing of this nascent garden gives me hope and pleasure, and reminds me that every one and every thing has a role, no matter the size, in our shared world. So I guess I’d better rouse myself from this comfortable spot and do like the bees and get busy.

This post is dedicated to my dear friend and mentor Dorothy Thomsen, whose life embodied ‘doing better’ until the very end. 101 is good enough. Rest in peace, my friend.