Backyard Habitat

Something really lovely happened in my yard toward the end of this summer. At least, that's when it became obvious enough that I noticed it. Having set the scene, I took a step back and watched while the space around my house became a functioning, thriving, interconnected ecosystem.

As the garden twined its way ever-upward, the seeds I had planted were only the beginning.
Since last year, I've been watching orange-and-black monarch butterflies checking out the milkweed border that I left to grow up along the fenceline. I finally spotted a caterpillar. Another day, on the dill and cilantro, beautiful tiger swallowtail caterpillars appeared. On several occasions, I noticed a toad hanging out in the garden and did my best to make it feel welcome. When the sunflower seeds ripened, goldfinches and squirrels went into full-time harvest mode. And by late summer, there were so many busy bees in the flower garden that the whole thing was a-hum. The anise hyssop was a huge draw, but the sunflowers, asters, cosmos, and zinnias collected their own admirers.
And, after watching and waiting for a year and a half, my shiitake logs sprouted! It was terrifically exciting. Also delicious. And, when I passed Jim and Linda's booth at the farmer's market that week, I could finally say "Yes!" when Jim asked, as he always did, "Any mushrooms yet?"

While my inside projects have been gratifying, they all feel like an uphill march. Everything that gets done requires a lot of effort on my part, and always more time than I have budgeted. It’s an ongoing battle just to keep the dirt swept up and the dust down and the plants watered. So it's such a pleasure to step outside the door, wander around in the sunshine, and see what amazing miracles have organized themselves under their own power, with no help from me at all.Similarly, I'm loving the way that the monthly Stone Soup potlucks have become a self-assembling, complex organism. In the beginning, I was never sure if anyone would actually appear at the door. Now I just put out the invitation, wait to see who shows up and what they bring to the collective meal, and it's always different, always a surprise full of complementary parts and new connections.

Stone Soup with s'mores on the grill, Emily, Sarah, Maggie, and Maisie-dog.

Stone Soup with grilled corn, John, Berkana-dog, and Michelle.

Maggie likes Stone Soup!

The last few have brought the largest crews yet - ten people or so and a couple of dogs. In the days of late-summer bounty, we called it "stone salad" and "stone spread." We ate outside and our plates were colorful with cucumbers and tomatoes and peaches and blueberries. Last month we returned to soup, and some new neighbors - in the yellow house on my very own block - turned up, invited by a friend of a friend, with their adorable two-year-old, a butternut squash, and a bouquet of kale. So did a friend from Petoskey whom I've known longer than any of my new Traverse City connections. And everybody mingled and mixed while the squash and potatoes and beans and greens in the soup pot did the same, and when we all sat down with our bowls full, I felt just as pleased and blessed as when I'm presiding over all the feasting going on outside in the garden.