Rise | We've Done the Research
What is a Prairie Garden?
A prairie garden is a garden plot or area of one's yard or property planted with native prairie flowers, grasses, and shrubs -the plants indigenous to the native prairie ecosystem of North America. Prairie plants are perennials, meaning they come back year after year. Because the roots of prairie flowers, grasses, and shrubs grow to such depths, the plants evolved deep and intricate root systems to survive fire and seek water deep underground. So, the plants need little irrigation, zero insecticides, and no fertilizer. Those roots can extend further in length underground than the plant is tall. In a prairie garden, plant ecology and garden design can come together beautifully, creating a "wild" or "intentional" garden with blooms from spring through fall. Not every prairie plant is a good candidate for an urban garden. Some may not be showy enough; others, like goldenrod, can easily be confused with weeds. Plants must also be selected to thrive on a site given its soil type, the amount of moisture (i.e., wetland versus dry hilltop), and sun and shade.
Sustainable Choice, High Maintenance
Our editor, Melissa Rappaport Schifman, in her book Building a Sustainable Home, writes about her excitement at having a native prairie in her yard. “A native prairie is a very sustainable choice compared to lawns,” she writes. “It requires no irrigation (saving water), no mowing (reducing air and noise pollution), and is a return to how the land used to be—its natural state. On top of that, we would not need to fertilize the area, reducing any run-off of chemicals into our lakes and rivers.”
Schifman also soon discovered, after her “native prairie” was planted, that it was far from low maintenance. She spent too much time weeding out non-native and invasive plants. The garden’s appearance was too weedy-looking for a small urban space; in fact, the City of Minneapolis issued her a citation for violating an ordinance for having grass more than eight inches tall. She ended up transforming it into more of an urban meadow, with long-blooming native and adaptive perennial plants—and no grasses.
She concluded, advising readers to “not try to replicate a native prairie unless you have a lot of land for it… and a lot of time on your hands to not only be able to distinguish between native grasses and invasive weeds but also to pull out the latter.” Or perhaps hire a native plant gardener to do it for you. Homeowners with suburban plots, or neighborhoods with swaths of the restored prairie like the one next to our community garden, or located in the city or regional or state parks, often hire prairie restoration companies to do weeding and conduct periodic prescribed burns—as fire is a natural part of the prairie ecosystem and helps take care of weeds and spurs the growth of prairie grasses and flowers.
Turning Prairie into a Garden
I had a similar situation on my slope. A maple tree on the boulevard started shading my prairie garden. Having planted more than 35 species of grasses and flowers that would do well on my site (former oak savanna), after 25+ years, the plot mainly was switch grass, obedient plant, Echinacea, New Jersey tea, goldenrod, spiderwort, blue wild indigo, and asters. And weeds, which I pulled out weekly.
During hot, dry August days, I also needed water to keep the plants from entirely wilting. I’d only done one burning in all that time, which attracted all the kids in the neighborhood; I gave each of them a watering can or a hose so they could help out in case the flames got away. (They didn’t.)
I slowly realized that my garden looked like a mess—except during the few weeks when all of the Echinacea bloomed. What to do?
I decided to add some shape and definition to my slope with hardscaping. I hired a contractor to install a dry-stack limestone wall along the bottom edge next to the sidewalk and create a few alcoves to highlight my indigo and cup plant. The limestone is native to my location and would continue a similar dry-stack wall created by a neighbor who also had native plants on her front slope. I also installed limestone dry-stack edging, topped with slabs of limestone, along with my front steps. With that, my prairie garden was edged, contained, and highlighted.
I waited to see what plants would return, given the disruption and the more condensed space. My indigo and cup plant looked spectacular in their limestone niches, with the prairie smoke blooming below. My leadplant had hung on. My gentians returned. I still needed to weed. At the end of the summer, I had that maple, which had been suffering for years, taken down.
This year, for the first time, my prairie garden will have full sun. I’ve planted a few more Liatris or blazing stars since I love them, and I’ve lost almost all of those I planted. I hope that many of the flowers, long-dormant due to the shade, will return. If they don’t, I’ll plant new ones. At last, I’m happy with my prairie garden, a sustainable option for my slope in which I’ve already seen monarch butterflies and bees—even if I need to do a bit of weeding and planting. Prairie gardens seem to help fulfill that nostalgic need to return the land to what it naturally wants to be. I love them, but they don’t always work on all types of property—or for all homeowners.
Camille LeFevre
Camille LeFevre is an architecture and design writer based in the Twin Cities.
