Back in 2016 I planted this small side yard,
I had a vision; it would be neat and small but butterflies would come and so they did. Last week a Swallowtail, a Monarch, a Mourning Cloak, a Red Admiral all annoyed the Gulf Fritillaries that live here along with various Skippers. Delighted me. I have no photos as none stayed put in time to raise my phone.
Neat and small, though, not so much. Today.
I have surrendered architecture to details. Also bugs, plus the occasional hummingbird.
Details. Vervain, a weed my Plant It app tells me is wild hedge parsley (like a hedge witch I wonder?), also salvia, California poppies and native milkweed.
I turned this pot upside down when the little floating fountain I’d bought stopped working, and the resultant still water brought mosquitoes. There are bugs and then there are bugs. I suspect the coyote mint you see against it may eventually climb up and over. Giving up architecture for archeology.
This bronze fennel looks pretty awful from a distance, because as you can see in the top photo I kept the dead stalks as winter habitat. But close up, pretty and feathery. The Anise Swallowtail loves it.
The passiflora, host plant for those Gulf Fritillaries I mentioned, shows up and shows out consistently.
And the ferns, lining our exterior house walls, despite neglect, are game. A good cutting back of dead fronds, some dedicated watering and presto change-o garden math. The answer to everything is in this pattern I just know it.
All this is a private wilding, round the side where no one goes but me. Out front carries on all civilized, albeit a little more exuberant these days. I planted a violently pink tea rose against my fence. Then I liked the flowers so much I sacrificed my kitchen window view for vase light. Probably refractions hold the secrets to the meaning of life that ferns relinquish.
Finally, even out front in the land of appropriate, this California Tortoiseshell, a butterfly I have never seen, plonked itself down on a few apricot shrub roses. I’d planted them in an ostensibly white rose bed, thinking they were, yes, white. Surprise!
Apparently the fires in the Santa Cruz mountains between my suburb and the Pacific Ocean have made room for Tortoiseshell’s host plants, ceanothus. Let the lepidoptera rumpus begin.
I love the way gardens change. You can plan but you can’t control, and that’s a way of being I’ve come to late.
Have a gorgeous weekend.
24 Responses
I love your garden Lisa! It is just my kind of place. We bought a butterfly weed plant at a Farmer’s Market this morning and have already planted it. I’m going back to peruse your photos again.
Thank you! I hope you get Monarchs galore!
Your wild garden is just beautiful and plentiful and hard-working, too! (I mean Mother Nature, with her tangled webs of host and dinner-seeking guests, prey and predator, everything kept in check through the seasons – most of the time, anyways. You are an honourable steward of your land, and that should keep your Sturdy Girl forbearers happy!
Ah, thank you! Such a kind thing to say from an expert. You are right, there is a fair amount of keeping in check to be done, starting with diligently hoeing out the weeds in the “path” area that sprout like crazy at the end of our rainy season. Not to mention preserving the delicate balance between thistles for Painted Ladies and my arms;)
Love your garden and the way you explain how it’s become and what it might mean. Thank you.
You are so much more than welcome. xo
What a beautiful Secret Garden. I love it, and its evolutions
Thank you! I said, as I was looking at that overturned pot and imagining it covered in overgrowth, “My very own Secret Garden.”
“A private wilding […] where no one goes but me” — oh, how we all need that! Nature gives us such food for thought and such a balm for our emotions at the same time, doesn’t it? I adore your garden and always love when you give us a tour. Thank you so much for these beautiful photos. Planning yet relinquishing control is so hard, now more than ever, and I know I could absolutely use help there too.
Have a gorgeous, relaxing weekend, Lisa and friends. ❤️
We all need it, both the release of privacy and, I think, the resources to offer some structure and discipline in our relationship to our neighbors. Thanks a million.
How lovely! Looking forward to start the season here in northern New England. The day lilies are budding…
Ah, the day lilies! Like trumpets to Heaven! I hope you have a glorious summer.
What an absolutely delightful read! I learned the hard way that gardens are dynamic not static. Some years ago, we tore out rangy evergreen shrubs and planted native prairie perennials in our front yard garden which bakes in the afternoon sun. I carefully (and naively) assigned their places based on color and height. LOL. I did not count on goldfinches chowing down on the purple cone flowers in August and consequently redistributing them. Nor did I anticipate some of the flowers ferociously elbowing out others. I’ve thought about ripping it out and making it a more intentional space but instead have decided to see who shows up each summer and make modest changes by transplanting some of the dominators and replenishing those that need conscious tending. It continues to be a wild learning ride for me and one I’m happy to keep taking.
I bet your garden is beautiful. And the process sounds so familiar. Exactly transplanting the dominators, and also the grumpy ones. Tending to those who need something more. Starts to feel like playing a little bit?
How do you always know what we need here, right when everything out there is just too much? Timeline cleanse, the internet calls it. Thank you.
Beautiful photos, lots of links for reference, complete relaxation as we settled in to follow your lead.
Particularly riveting [for me] was your photo of the passiflora. I dug deeper to be surprised by so much more to know: https://rewildingmylot.blog/2025/07/02/stages-of-a-passionflower-bloom/
Who doesn’t love “Rewilding My Lot” as a name for a blog. But anyway, the lifespan of the passiflora blossom is one day! Read about it above and be ASTONISHED.
Thank you Lisa, once again, for giving us the “timeline cleanse” we desperaately need right now. And for giving us guidance to use for the rest of our lifetime: “You can plan but you can’t control.” xo
May we all be able to tidy up each other’s timelines when friends are in need. In this case, I needed one myself:). And yes! The passiflora open and close like exotic night flowers, only they are the Sturdiest of Flower Gals here in my climate. Thank you:).
You have a wonderful secret garden. Gardens evolve and each growing season is different. I love the ongoing evolution of a garden.
I am experimenting with native plants, wildflowers and meadows. My intention is to reduce the lawn(s).
American Meadows online is a good source for plantings.
Wildflowers and meadows sound so gorgeous. If I had more land I’d absolutely go for grasses and wildflowers, a la Claire Takacs.
Very impressive array of butterflies. I may have to add some plants to our yard. A neighbor says we have a hummingbird nest, which if true would be thrilling.
It’s been a veritable panoply! A hummingbird nest would be so sweet. Those tiny little eggs <3
Thank you for sharing – so beautiful!!! And I love the wildness. And – should you decide to add still water, mosquito dunks fix the issue and are not harmful for critters.
Ours is more of a public wilding: our median strip is planted with flowering plants and grasses. Yes, it looks
“messy”, but in the spring, lots of flowers. One year my neighbor told me walking by it was like walking in a meadow in Switzerland. Thanks for sharing your wilding! Also fun to read: Wilding by Isabella Tree. Written in 2018, it is the return of nature to a Kent castle holding. She also has a lovely podcast: https://knepp.co.uk/wildland-podcast/
Late to your post, but your garden is wonderful! It is full of serendipity. Thank you for sharing it!
Your gardens are wonderful! I love the way you embrace accident and change, and that your garden includes all types of beautiful living things. Brava!