By Scout Kerensky-Coodley
All images courtesy of author
Starting a meadow from seed excited me. As a popular (and cost-effective) strategy for many land managers, my curiosity was piqued. In 2021, my obsession with native plants was only expanding. I heard about the process from various restoration practitioners, and decided to experiment with establishing a miniature meadow in my Brooklyn backyard. Establishing native grass species from seed especially intrigued me, and I wondered how each plant might react to the uniquely urban conditions, from the heat rising off the cement to the industrial chemicals that lingered in the soil. Our landlord had given me his blessing to take over maintenance for the building’s backyard, provided I remove the poison ivy that had crept in from a neighboring property.
The backyard is large, at almost 1000 square feet, with the majority being poured cement. The southern side is raised four feet, with a meat-curing shed in the southwestern corner. Much like the rest of our concrete city, the heat rises off the pavement in the backyard, baking under full sun. In the southeastern corner, a 200 square foot patch of soil held chickweed, barnyard grass, crabgrass, clover and a medium-sized fig tree that had been planted a decade earlier. My neighbors and I have a modest container garden in the sunniest portion of the space, filled with heat-loving plants like hot peppers and tomatoes. Our North Brooklyn neighborhood once was home to some of the largest industrial firms in the country, from Pfizer Pharmaceuticals to the Domino Sugar refinery. There were glass fabricators, paint factories, manufacturing plants, and more. Like many formerly industrial urban areas, contaminated soils are abundant, even the norm.
I hoped to improve the ecological benefit of my site without creating a garden that was especially time consuming. I had been working in urban meadow gardens for four years, and wanted to try my hand at establishment on my own. A metals and nutrient test would normally be one of my first steps for planting in a space new to me. In the first months of 2022, our local soil testing facility had an extra long wait list, filling backlogged orders from the pandemic-era lab closure. Given the industrial history of the neighborhood, I felt safe assuming there were toxic chemicals in the soil and moving forward with a plan that assumed nothing grown in this soil could be consumed.
I performed a simple texture test and found our soil to be on the sandier side, and scattered with debris, from old bolts to pieces of worn glass. A bit more digging uncovered a three foot wide root system from a tree that had been cut down years before, which was promptly removed. The fig tree stayed, as it was popular with local birds, and provided a screen in the summertime from our neighbors’ yard.
Site preparation is one of the most important steps in successfully establishing a meadow planting from seed. Reducing weed and invasive stress early on is critical for ensuring enough sunlight reaches slower-growing species to be competitive later on. This step can be a labor of love, with various processes and methods sometimes requiring multiple years to ensure success. Given the relatively diminutive size of my plot, the lack of invasive pressure, and the knowledge that any mistakes made would solely be my problem to manage, I chose to use a minimal amount of site prep so that I could see firsthand the impacts of that decision. This meant that I could go to work seeding much more quickly than if I had extensively prepared my site. My intended approach to the site was to blend ecological landscaping techniques with the natural processes by which seeds are dispersed and grow in open lots and medians. Rather than painstakingly removing the soil debris or soil entirely, I chose a plant palette that would work well in nutrient poor, sandy soils.
The raised bed after leveling and weeding the soil
Once I had dug out the root ball and removed the weeds, I leveled the soil and installed simple pavers down the center of the rectangular bed, creating an access path for weeding and maintenance. Using compost as a filler, I hand-spread a native shortgrass and wildflower seed mix from Prairie Moon. The mix included early-germinating species that fade quickly, as well as plants that take longer to become established, creating a rhythm of change in the plantings. The native seed mix includes grass species, with plenty of showy flowering perennials. Immediately after, I installed netting, attached to 18” plastic stakes around the perimeter of the bed. Netting the area would prevent birds and other animals from eating the seeds before they had a chance to germinate. After a thorough watering, the waiting began.
Starting the meadow project in early spring gave the cold-stratification necessary for the seeds to germinate. In a future iteration of this project, I would be curious to see the results from spreading the seed much earlier for longer exposure to cold. Brooklyn winters have been getting milder, with a lack of snow making timing more flexible. That said, I spread the seed in the first week of April and kept the netting up until the first week of June. Predictably, much of what had immediately germinated was the barnyard grass, whose seeds lay in waiting under the soil I had just disturbed. Easily removed, I pulled out the barnyard grass and kept a close eye on the mini-meadow. By the first week of July, flower buds began opening, blanketing the bed in yellow blossoms. Rudbeckia was followed by coreopsis a few weeks later, and the backyard was full of sunny blooms that entire summer.
The raised bed after leveling and weeding the soil
This result was immensely encouraging, as well as typical, as meadow establishment happens in stages. First, the short-lived perennials such as rudbeckia dominate, and over time, they fade out as the longer-lived perennials (which take longer to germinate) gain momentum. In a matter of months, the humble patch of soil had been transformed into a pollinator hot spot, which had the side benefit of increasing our container garden yield two-fold from the season before. 200 square feet of rudbeckia and coreopsis delighted my neighbors, and it was thrilling to pour over the plants, keenly studying the garden processes.
To replicate mowing, a process that allows sunlight to reach slower-germinating species, I cut the mini-meadow back by hand at the end of July, removing any problem species like bindweed that had crept in from next door. We had a second flush of rudbeckia and coreopsis that season. In the process of cutting back, I was delighted to notice that a few grass species had germinated, including little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium) though they would not flower that year. A second ‘mowing’ at the end of September completed my work for the first season. From spring to fall, the insect visitors included painted skimmers, monarch butterflies, hover flies, wool carder bees and metallic sweat bees. The mini-meadow had successfully increased the pollinator habitat of my backyard, with foraging resources greatly improved in number if not yet in biodiversity.
Rudbeckia in full glory in its first season, now turning into a palette of multiple species
2023 arrived, and I was eager to see what would germinate, and what would flower. 2022 had been a dry summer, and the meadow had thrived even with minimal supplemental watering. I hoped the grasses would bloom, and that I’d see more diversity in the floral display. Part of my success in germination could be attributed to the heat of the hot cement surrounding the meadow, which radiates warmth all evening in the summertime. Summer came again, and I was rewarded- eastern columbine (Aquilegia canadensis), little bluestem (Schizachryrium scoparium), hairy penstemon (Penstemon hirsutus), upright prairie coneflower (Echinacea pallida), purple coneflower (Echinacea purpurea), hoary vervain (Verbena hastata), Sky blue aster (Symphyotrichum oolentangiense) and white snakeroot (Ageratina altissima) all bloomed.
I selectively cut back coreopsis and rudbeckia again in midsummer, weeding out crabgrass and occasional bindweed seedlings, in hopes of bringing more sunlight to the soil and encouraging even more diversity of blooms. I completed another ‘mowing’ in early autumn, and have watched with joy as our yellow meadow expands to include other colors. The cold weather weeds showed up in late fall, but with temperatures in the 50s, they’re likely to go to seed sooner than I hoped. In response, I’ll remove the weeds and use seed I collected from the mini-meadow to selectively sow the patches where I’ve removed hairy bittercress and common chickweed. I thought the season would be over by this point, but a warmer planet means our city’s winter has been warm enough for winter weeds to continue growing.
Our first summer blooms in the miniature meadow, featuring Rudbeckia and Coreopsis
The miniature meadow has been a delightful experiment and addition to the space. In 2024 I’ll be looking closely to see where grasses have spread, and what replaces the rudbeckia as the third year of growth comes. There are plants from my original seed packet I hope to spot, from slower-growing nodding onion (Allium cernuum) to false white indigo (Baptisia alba). I observed pollinating wasps and flower flies visiting alongside bumble and honeybees in the past two years, and I hope to add to my insect observations as the warmer months begin. My main objectives of increasing the ecological function, aesthetic impact and insect habitat of the backyard were achieved. I’m looking forward to continuing to tweak this delightful project in the coming months. The meadow has been a most instructive teacher, and is what I hoped for, weeds and all.
About the Author:
Scout is a horticulturist, ISA certified arborist, and a graduate student of Landscape Architecture at City College in New York City. Recently, Scout was a staff horticulturist at the High Line, managing a naturalistic urban meadow garden. Scout earned a certificate in Horticulture from the New York Botanical Garden, and teaches classes at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Scout worked as a science teacher prior to becoming a horticulturist, and loves birdwatching and hiking in their spare time.
Additionally, Scout, a master’s student in the Bernard and Anne Spitzer College of Landscape Architecture at the City College of New York, has been awarded the 2023 Linda Milbourn Fellowship in Landscape Architecture.
Scout’s research project will be with The Trust for Governors Island and looks to transform seven acres of invasive species into a native meadow. The work includes developing a design proposal for the Fort Jay meadow restoration and its corresponding management plan, including establishing project timelines, and identifying critical constraints. The meadow will provide important habitat for insects and birds, as well as provide an immersive experience for visitors through walking paths and interpretation areas.
Upon completion, the Fort Jay Meadow will be the largest meadow in the borough of Manhattan. The funds from the Linda Milbourn Fellowship will be used to provide a stipend for continued education, and cover costs related to travel for site visits, additional design software, as well as laboratory fees from the collection of soil samples, used to determine existing soil conditions.
