The Battle Hymn of the Grapes

 

Ten years ago, on returning to southern Minnesota for the summer, we discovered a local vineyard. Since this isn't the south of France, or California, we questioned the possibility that grapes would even grow in our area, let alone produce fine wine. Apparently the University of MN had created a hybrid that would withstand the weather and soil conditions in the midwest, and wineries were popping up all over. A year later we bought out first grape vines and planted them in the sunniest spot of our yard, my flower garden. Since then we have bought several more varieties and planted about the property, reading up on pruning techniques and building trellises.  

Now I cannot say that our vines are a complete success. Some die or get nibbled by rabbits and deer. We are not around to see the grapes ripen, and often the bunches are small and whither away. They don't respond well to dry weather, which means lots of watering. But we live in hope that a new year will bring a bumper crop that will make drinkable wine. I am also starting to question the point.

Today we talk of ecologically responsible gardens, that conserve water, minimize the use of pesticides, provide habitat for wildlife and pollinators. Our grapes really don't fit into this kind of garden. I am starting to look at my flowers in another way. They certainly attract pollinators.  I watch the butterflies and bees flutter and land on their favorites: bee balm, coneflower and milkweed.  I allow milkweed and Joe Pye weed to flourish, despite their size. And during the dry weather I notice that many of the native plants require no watering.  Black-eyed Susan and phlox grow, flower and seed themselves without any interference from me. But then, this should be obvious, because they are native and suited to this environment. 

I identify with the grapes, a non-native trying to put down roots in a foreign land. Wherever I go, I know I am welcome, but I do not really belong. I have to try harder to flourish, and I require more help and support than those who call that place their home.  In many places I have lived, I am fortunate to find local support in the form of locals who help me learn their ways and understand that I very much need their help.

These friends are similar to the native plants which are also non-invasive. They allow other plants to grow up around them, sharing the land. 

I do have to beware of the creeping bell flower which produces lovely purple bells, but left unattended will spread throughout the flower garden in a way that only weedkiller will control. There are some places that do not welcome visitors, strangers or foreigners, as they feel threatened. Those places choke the life out of you, force you to move on. 

 I have also noticed that tomato seeds from last year's crop will sprout and grow taller that the hot house plants a buy from the nursery. The seeds have earned their space, inheriting their suitability from their parents.  Though I may never feel like a native here, thriving in whichever place I choose to call home, I can wish this for my children.  Although none were born in the US, they are American and have a home here. They can call themselves natives, and that is something I have given them.