My yard is not a lawn. It’s planted entirely in native plants, a combination of flowers for pollinator food and sedges and grasses for habitats. Right now, there is still a lot of decaying leaf litter, dotted with tufts of green emerging from their winter hibernation. If you’re just driving by, your first thought might be that it looks unkempt. And while it is not manicured, it is intentional.

As I came around the corner at the end of my evening walk last night, the setting sun was just skimming the yards all along the street. Nearing my house, I noticed a lot of activity in the 6-12 inches above my yard. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of winged things dipping and diving, frenetically finishing their survival tasks for the day. I looked down the street and the air above the lawns was empty, quiet, even sterile. But there was a party happening above my sedges, and I can only assume there was a similar celebration happening amongst the leaves and even in the soil below. Overnight, there will no doubt be possums and rabbits feasting, and in the morning, the birds will flock to the insect buffet. It is not orderly and contained because there is a lot of life happening in these few square feet. Life doesn’t always fit into orderly rows or neatly mown patches, but it is beautiful in its untamed exuberance.