Cultivated... and Wild

In a recent post, that Wild Woman in Pennsylvania posed the question "Cultivated vs wild?" in reference to a lovely picture of some flowers.

Well, how about cultivated and wild?

If you were to head out from our house and take a jog to the right at the swoopy "T" where the frontage road meets the old county road, and toil up the ferocious hill, in about 5 minutes you would arrive at the home Joby and Melissa, who live next to John (who I think is her father). When Joby and Melissa moved into that house a few years back, the house and yard were rather rundown and dumpy and they have gradually transformed it to spectacular, including terraces with several very interesting water features...


and raised flower beds,


and meandering paths.

Together they are part of the Grow Native network in Missouri that is sponsored by the Conservation Department.



The idea is to encourage homeowners to use native plants in landscaping. They both have greenhouses in which they cultivate plants that are native to the Midwest and East, and they sell seeds and potted seedlings to people for their gardens. They call themselves Easy Wildflowers.

I happened to walk by their house last week, and the next day when Richard headed out at the crack of dawn for his morning walk, I suggested he walk the Loop (frontage road to 76, turn right, walk to old county road, turn right, back to the "T"), which would take him by their house, so he too could look at the beautiful flowers in their yard. He did indeed walk the Loop, but when I asked him what did he think of the flowers, he admitted he had totally forgot to turn look at them as he passed by their house.

So I shook my head, heaved a big sigh, and later that day we took a stroll together. And then I decided I needed a few pictures, so I went back with the camera. When I knocked on Joby and Melissa's door to ask permission to photograph their yard, their son answered and told me I had to ask his grandpa if it was OK to take pictures. John arrived in his purple truck as I was knocking on his door. I had no clue who John was until I saw him, but it turns out I have seen him often at the post office because we frequently arrive at the same time to pick up mail from our respective boxes. John was kind enough to give me a tour of the place. And he told me the names of all the beautiful flowers, and I forgot most of them.









And now I know where all of our hummingbirds have gone.... redder pastures.