Backyard habitat project update

Technically, it's the side yard, but the bees aren't into labels

Scrub jay: always ready for its closeup. (Photo via my son’s Bird Buddy feeder, which is pretty darn cool.)

Friday is are allergy-shot day, and whew, allergy shots wipe me out. I’m several months into a year-long series of weekly appointments, and then I’ll shift to self-administered shots for I’m not sure how long. When I say self-administered, I mean Scott will give them to me, because ::shudder:: I don’t mind getting shots but I don’t want any part of giving them.

I mean, I don’t love receiving three shots a week (two in my left arm, one in my right), but it’s a reasonable tradeoff for the severe allergy-induced asthma symptoms I’ve struggled with since our move to Portland six years ago. After a round of allergy testing last spring, my doctor informed me that I’m severely allergic to “basically every grass and tree that grows in the Pacific Northwest.” Good times!

It’s okay, Portland, I forgive you. I love your grasses and trees, even if they do want to kill me. I love your native shrubs, a dozen of which I have recently planted along the edge of our corner lot—the first step in creating the three layers of native canopy plants we need for achieving Backyard Habitat Certification. Mock orange, red flowering currant, Oregon grape, snowberry—all tucked up for winter under a quilt of browning leaves.

Some things I learned from our site visit in October—the first step toward habitat certification:

• The gorgeous red echinacea cultivar I picked up cheap in an end-of-season sale? Actually terrible for pollinators. I mean, I knew it wasn’t a native plant but I did have coneflower in my head as a generally good pollinator plant. And some varieties are, but not the hybrids like my red one, which are often not just sterile but actually dangerous for native bees, who may be drawn by the color and then, upon arriving, find no food source. (This doesn’t mean I have to destroy the plant; I just need to plant actual pollen and nectar sources nearby so the bee’s trip isn’t wasted.)

• The lupine volunteer that flourished in the side yard all summer is not just a delight to my inner Miss Rumphius, it’s a lower Willamette Valley native and a perfect candidate for our little hedgerow. As is the native bleeding heart that sprang up in the lupine’s shade.

• There is only one invasive plant on our property that I would need to remove if we wanted to aim for the highest level of certification—vinca, which is rampant in one of the parking strip beds. But we’re probably two years away from the lowest level (silver), so I don’t have to wrestle with the vinca anytime soon.

We worked hard this fall to get the front-yard beds sheet-mulched and ready for planting, and now I will finally turn my attention to unpacking the wall of boxes in our basement. Well, not now-now. Not in December! That, my friends, is a January job.

Ooh, my arm is itchy! Worth it, worth it, worth it. Serviceberry, blue-eyed grass, penstemon, I’m doing it for you.