A reflection from 2019.
I don't often talk about my own permaculture site. It's my sanctuary—my place to learn and make mistakes. Some permaculturists focused on expensive structural systems and traditional European aesthetics once dismissed it as "nothing special." But at the recent Advanced Design Course in Chicagoland, a different story emerged.
I began by showing how my front yard transformed over the years into active growing space. Each bed was designed in response to the surface water flowing across the land. We discussed the water catchment system (limited though it is) and the zone 0 improvements—both completed and planned. But the garden itself became the real focal point.
The Wall of Green
My system began in 2006. The image I share most often dates from 2014, though any year after 2010 tells the same story: what I now lovingly call the "Wall of Green." People often say it looks wild, too chaotic for their own spaces. I understand. In my client designs, I'm more careful about spacing and traditional aesthetics, more conscious of what neighbors might think. We all have different tolerance levels for wildness.
But I love it. Wildness isn't chaos—there's an emerging order. Nature becomes our teacher, and the species that volunteer are mostly friends and allies.
A PDC student pointed out something important in March: I should contrast my beloved June-July photos of full foliage with images from early spring or late fall. Then people could see the stone-edged beds, the pathways, the structural order of tended perennials beneath all that green. The design becomes visible in those quieter seasons—each stone and bed shape placed deliberately in response to water flow, soil protection, and the needs of the plants growing there.
Revealing the Pattern
This year, the Advanced Design students saw the full progression: spring emergence to summer abundance to fall's drawing in. As we moved through the seasons, I described the natural flows—birds, insects, plants cycling through the space. How chickweed arrives as ground cover, vegetable, and medicine, creating the perfect matrix for tomatoes and peppers. When the chickweed dies back, sweet potatoes take over until first frost, when light mulch covers the soil and kale and chard are planted for the winter cycle.
When we reached the June-July-August images, I was nervous about showing the Wall of Green. Then I started naming what I saw: echinacea*, goumi, kale*, meadowsweet, broccoli, dill*, currants, milkweed*, tomatoes*, peppers, basil, potatoes, sweet potatoes, oregano*, rosemary, strawberries*, three varieties of raspberry*, sorrel, comfrey, dock*, carrots, onions, garlic*, goji, New Jersey tea, ground cherry*, asparagus, peach, mulberry, lilac, iris, hydrangea, holly, ramps, four varieties of blueberry, ferns, horseradish, beans, various mints, lamb's quarter—and probably several more I missed.
I talked about the insect and bird cycles—the generations of catbirds that return to nest each year—and the soil quality developing over time. We discussed the shady backyard with its hazelnuts, raspberries, pawpaws, bird-planted hackberry, and more. It's where we practice primitive skills, start seeds in our hoop house, and observe.
The Point of It All
The students said something that stopped me: "Your relationship with your land is remarkable—and laudable."
Relationship. That's the whole point. Reintegrating ourselves with the natural world is a key aim of permaculture design.
I still have a long way to go. I'm still dependent on the extraction economy—no solar panels or expensive water tanks, still using natural gas. We forage what's ripe and put up only a few dried, frozen, or canned items and some seeds. It's not the magazine-perfect permaculture some imagine.
But a fellow teacher told me later: "You did this with limited means. This is what permaculture will look like for most of us. It's about relationship."
Yes. It is.
Here's to many more of us working on that relationship with Nature.
* These plants are now self-maintaining and expansive in the garden. I didn't anticipate all of that.