My meadow is modest by most design standards. But it’s an awesome 1,000 square foot experiment that is already welcoming birds every day.
How awesome? In one Raleigh, NC growing season, measured from April through November, and compared against the lawn industry’s standard practices for managing a healthy turf lawn, my meadow saved over 10,000 gallons of water, 6 gallons of gasoline, some engine oil, 8 pounds of lawn seeds, and 9 pounds of fertilizer / pre-emergent herbicide. It also saved me 30 hours of boredom, walking back and forth with a mower or a seed spreader.
My anticipation is already building for next year. The established grasses will grow larger, shade more weeds, and welcome more creatures. And my role will change from a farmer to a steward, a master to a friend.
This meadow is special to me for a number of reasons. I love Nature and this brings a piece of it closer to my life. It lets me walk my talk as an environmentalist and Landscape Architect. And it eliminates a lot of wasted time and resources.
Part 1: Planning and (Finally) Mobilizing
The benefits of meadow plantings are well documented, and growing louder. They save water and reduce the need for chemical inputs. They have deeper roots that resist drought and pull water deeper into the soil. They provide food and habitat for butterflies, birds, and pollinators that we love. They provide stress and anxiety relief through their textures, colors, and breezy movements throughout the seasons. And they do this naturally, without all of the extra work that goes into forcefully controlling a non-native monoculture.
I wanted a meadow but didn’t know exactly what to expect. I spent months reading blogs, articles, and plant catalogs, discovering dozens of grasses that thrive in hot, dry, clay soils with yearly drought. These grasses could be planted in drifts to establish a matrix, into which perennials could be sprinkled in over time. With so many options I was able to select for the design qualities I wanted: native, wildlife-friendly, and up to 30″ in height for an appropriate residential scale. I was willing to live with some aggressiveness, which would help with establishment and out-competing weeds. I selected six species to explore further:
- Andropogon virginicus (Broomsedge)
- Carex bicknelli (Bicknell’s Sedge)
- Carex pennsylvanica (Pennsylvania Sedge)
- Schizachyrium scoparium (Little Bluestem)
- Sporobolus heterolepsis (Prairie Dropseed)
- Panicum virgatum (Switchgrass) for vertical accent.
Next I looked at planting methods. Seeding offered the cheapest option; I resisted this because of the finesse it would require to be successful, particularly on my first attempt. Mature plants were appealing, but cost more than my budget. Plugs made the most sense; they are younger plants with a bullet-shaped root mass, turbo-charged for growth. While smaller than container plants, they could establish quickly and reach a similar size by the second season.
The final piece to plan was the lawn – and how to kill it. Regardless of the method, the lawn must be completely removed to keep crabgrass runners out and competition down. I eliminated using chemical herbicides, prioritizing the non-turf organic life in the soil; maintaining these beneficial organisms will help the new plants establish. Alternative methods included mechanical stripping, baking it with plastic, and smothering it with cardboard. The final approach seemed most reasonable, using wetness and darkness to make the soil inhospitable to plants.
All of this research was helpful and exciting, but it also erected a large barrier to performing the work. I waited for my budget to align with the seasons and a lot of my free time to establish the plants. While I delayed the project for 3 years, our native clover slowly crept across the lawn, offering a cheaper alternative.
The beginning of 2022 changed everything and my meadow dream was set into motion. Several books created a paradigm shift in my plant knowledge. Planting in a Post-Wild World, by Rainer & West, taught me about planting in communities and using this “green mulch” to out-compete weeds. The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben showed how trees communicate and support each other through an underground network of fungi connected to their roots. Doug Tallamy’s Bringing Nature Home put a new spin on native plants as habitat and food for our disappearing wildlife. The spark that ignited the plan came when our power company killed the clover working in our back yard, allowing the runners of crabgrass and Bermuda to run rampant.
The barriers quickly disappeared and I marked my meadow’s territory. I provided enough room for a bucket truck to drive through the easement, but with cut logs I clearly marked where that access would stop. Cardboard boxes were collected from friends, stores, and recycling bins.
On 17 September I mowed the lawn one final time, using the lowest height possible, watered it thoroughly, and began laying cardboard. To minimize gaps I used large boxes, overlapped the edges, and added weights. I completed the initial 400 square feet of my meadow by soaking the cardboard until it stuck to the ground.
For the rest of the summer I watered the cardboard every day there was no rain. On hotter days some pieces dried out, wrinkled, and uncovered the soil below. Wind was a problem when the cardboard became dry. I shifted the weights, added water, and ignored the jokes from inside the house.
While the cardboard did its work I got my plant order together. Calling the friendly folks at Hoffman Nursery I learned that October 15 is a cutoff date for most grass plantings, but they have had success with a number of hardy species. I ordered 2 flats each of Andropogon virginicus, Chasmanthium latifolium, and Carex bicknelli (left to right below).
Reality began to set in on 22 October. The plugs arrived. The weather was cooperative. And I was tired of watering cardboard. I unboxed the first trays and took them in my hands. Each plant was neatly trimmed. Each root mass was full and firm, ready to be in the soil.
With eager anticipation I lifted the first rows of cardboard, finding a fairly clear soil surface. The surface vegetation had died back and the soil was dark and workable. The work was not done, however, as the hardiest runners remained. Still, I was excited by the progress and I got to work.
I used a hand cultivator to dig into the soil, isolate the plant centers, and remove them. In the fluffy, loose soil behind I planted the plugs. The Carex and Chasmanthium roots easily pulled apart for planting, but the Andropogon roots were thicker and more tightly bound. For those I used the cultivator to tease them apart as best I could. I worked my way down the slope, removing cardboard, digging out weeds, and installing plugs. I arranged the plants in drifts or clusters, grouping 7-12 plugs together to create small communities that would knit together as the meadow matures.
I spaced the plants 9 – 12 inches apart, a little closer than industry standard, so they would grow together and overlap to cover the soil surface. The soil was thoroughly watered as I worked, and reclaimed pavers were set as a hard edge against the lawn’s marauding weeds. Even at this immature stage, the new plants show wonderful variety in color and texture.
With the plantings complete, I prepared the lower portion of the meadow for winter. I placed the cardboard as before, and added extra weights to keep it in place.
A few weeks later, we received our drop of wood chips from the local arborist – a perfect mulch, full of organic matter and complex textures that retain moisture without matting. I covered the cardboard with 3-4 inches of the chips, which would help keep the cardboard wet and in place all winter. I sprinkled an inch of the chips onto the new meadow grasses, and raked our leaves into the bed to provide additional organic matter that would break down more quickly.
Meadow Phase 1 is complete! During the winter I will learn about proper maintenance, prepare for spring planting, and keep an eye out the window at the unfolding story.
Nature - Art & Inspiration 
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