An Ecological Civilization
in My Own Backyard
Planting a Native Garden
“Unless we modify the places we live, work, and play to meet not only our own needs but the needs of other species as well, nearly all species of wildlife native to the United States will disappear forever. This is not speculation. It is a prediction backed by decades of research on species-area relationships by ecologists who know of what they speak.
And the extinction of our plants and animals is not a scenario lost in the distant future. It is playing out across the country and the planet as I write.
Our preserves and national parks are not adequate to prevent the predicted loss of species, and we have run out of the space required to make them big enough. For conservationists, and indeed for anyone who celebrates life on earth, this is perhaps the direst possible consequence of the human enterprise.”
- Douglas Tallamy
Process Theology and Eco-Gardening
Imagine, if you will, that the creative spirit at work in the universe is, as open and relational theologians suggest, a spirit of love. You might picture this spirit as a personal presence with a life of its own—one in which the universe lives and moves and has its being. You might pray to this Spirit. You might address the Spirit as God.
Or you might imagine it more generally as a living force or energy with which you want to cooperate. You might say that the Spirit is more like a flowing river of energy than a person or a cosmic Thou.
In either case, imagine that this Spirit seeks the flourishing of life on our planet: a world where countless creatures—plants, insects, animals, and people—live in harmonious relation with one another, giving rise to something like beauty.
Think of this living together as the spirit of what process theologians call an ecological civilization: a way of life that is good for people, for other animals, and for the Earth itself. And recognize that the such a civilization involves creative localization: that is, localized expressions of bonded communities whose inhabitants include human beings and other creatures.
What might you do to help bring about such a civilization? You may feel small or powerless, yet there is one practical way to begin, says Doug Tallamy. He is an entomologist, ecologist, and professor at the University of Delaware, best known for his pioneering work on the vital role of native plants in sustaining biodiversity. His books--Bringing Nature Home, Nature’s Best Hope, and The Nature of Oaks—have inspired thousands to transform their yards and communities into havens for life.
Here is his advice: take the patch of earth that is your own—your backyard, your garden, or even your balcony—and plant native species, which will themselves become homes for countless forms of life. The value of native species is that they have co-evolved with local insects, birds, and other wildlife, forming intricate relationships of nourishment and shelter. They require less maintenance, fewer chemicals, and less water, while supporting the ecological networks that sustain life around them. In planting natives, you are not merely gardening; you are participating in the restoration of a living community.
A plant is native if it has formed long evolutionary relationships with the animals and other plants that share its home. These relationships are what allow energy from the sun to be passed efficiently through the local food web. By contrast, non-native or introduced species—even if they appear well-behaved or ornamental—often fail to support local wildlife, because most native insects cannot eat their leaves or use them for shelter. Since insects form the foundation of terrestrial food webs, this disruption cascades upward, reducing bird and mammal populations as well.
Here, then, in doing this simple and achievable thing, you create a small pocket of ecological civilization. And the love and care you bring to your native garden are themselves part of that pocket. They, too, are part of the beauty. We often speak of tending a garden, as if the gardens were different from the gardeners. But in a process view the gardener and the gardens form a community.
The act can be enriched if you do it with others. If you have a family, for example, make the tending be something that the whole family does. And, of course, other organizations can also tend native gardens: public libraries, churches, synagogues, mosques, businesses, and suburbs.
- Jay McDaniel
Or you might imagine it more generally as a living force or energy with which you want to cooperate. You might say that the Spirit is more like a flowing river of energy than a person or a cosmic Thou.
In either case, imagine that this Spirit seeks the flourishing of life on our planet: a world where countless creatures—plants, insects, animals, and people—live in harmonious relation with one another, giving rise to something like beauty.
Think of this living together as the spirit of what process theologians call an ecological civilization: a way of life that is good for people, for other animals, and for the Earth itself. And recognize that the such a civilization involves creative localization: that is, localized expressions of bonded communities whose inhabitants include human beings and other creatures.
What might you do to help bring about such a civilization? You may feel small or powerless, yet there is one practical way to begin, says Doug Tallamy. He is an entomologist, ecologist, and professor at the University of Delaware, best known for his pioneering work on the vital role of native plants in sustaining biodiversity. His books--Bringing Nature Home, Nature’s Best Hope, and The Nature of Oaks—have inspired thousands to transform their yards and communities into havens for life.
Here is his advice: take the patch of earth that is your own—your backyard, your garden, or even your balcony—and plant native species, which will themselves become homes for countless forms of life. The value of native species is that they have co-evolved with local insects, birds, and other wildlife, forming intricate relationships of nourishment and shelter. They require less maintenance, fewer chemicals, and less water, while supporting the ecological networks that sustain life around them. In planting natives, you are not merely gardening; you are participating in the restoration of a living community.
A plant is native if it has formed long evolutionary relationships with the animals and other plants that share its home. These relationships are what allow energy from the sun to be passed efficiently through the local food web. By contrast, non-native or introduced species—even if they appear well-behaved or ornamental—often fail to support local wildlife, because most native insects cannot eat their leaves or use them for shelter. Since insects form the foundation of terrestrial food webs, this disruption cascades upward, reducing bird and mammal populations as well.
Here, then, in doing this simple and achievable thing, you create a small pocket of ecological civilization. And the love and care you bring to your native garden are themselves part of that pocket. They, too, are part of the beauty. We often speak of tending a garden, as if the gardens were different from the gardeners. But in a process view the gardener and the gardens form a community.
The act can be enriched if you do it with others. If you have a family, for example, make the tending be something that the whole family does. And, of course, other organizations can also tend native gardens: public libraries, churches, synagogues, mosques, businesses, and suburbs.
- Jay McDaniel
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