Facebook Follies

What I saw from the driveway

Two days ago, I walked out in the early morning light to collect the newspapers at the end of our driveway. (Yes, there are still dinosaurs who subscribe to the print edition of newspapers.) As I turned to walk back to the house, I paused to admire the way the trees in our front garden had turned wonderful shades of yellow, gold, orange and red.

I though to myself, “I ought to take a picture of this.” And so, I went back into our home, found my camera (yes, there are still dinosaurs who take photos with ‘cameras’ instead of their phones), and took shots from several angles.

The resulting post

There was one photo that looked especially attractive. I thought to myself, “I ought to share this with the world on Facebook,” (Yes, I know only dinosaurs still use Facebook.) The perfect audience would be a group catering to people who either have created, are in the process of creating, or yearn to create what is called a ‘Home-grown National Park’ – a phrase coined by naturalist and rock star Doug Tallamy.

The photo, I thought, ought to bear the names of the trees and shrubs in it. And so, I painstakingly used Microsoft Paint (yes, dinosaurs, etc.) to place little circles of white with numbers in them at unambiguous points. The post was a marvel of economy while providing the photo’s location and all necessary botanical information, right down to the common name and Linnaean binomials.

By early afternoon, my photo and caption was posted. I was pleased with my contribution, I went off to do other things. When I returned home, I checked Facebook. To my pleasant surprise, my post had drawn almost a hundred ‘likes’ and a dozen comments. This was wonderful. The endorphins flowed through me. 

Within an hour, though, there was a naysayer. I was using ‘cultivars’ – cross-bred versions of native species that offered a new variant with, say, stronger color or a different shaped leaf. The author of this comment said my poor choices meant native pollinators likely wouldn’t recognize the plant. I had exchanged the needs of native birds, bees and butterflies for the human-centered greed for something prettier.

Almost as inexcusable, I had planted native species out of their range. Yes, the oak leaf hydrangea is a native. But its native range ends in Tennessee. It has no business being grown up here in cold, frozen Massachusetts. I was apparently inviting unwitting middle-south-dwelling pollinators to come north where they would perish with the first hard frost… and it would all be my fault!

I made the mistake of responding. I explained our property had been an ecological disaster zone; full of swallowwort and burning bush. In return, I was taunted again. “So, you like those cultivars, huh?” I replied with an extensive list of native species that weren’t in the photo.

I had an idea. I had a great video of Monarchs swarming over my Vernonia (ironweed). Moreover, these Monarchs were feasting on a cultivar! Mine was Vernonia ‘Iron Butterfly’!  Take that! I posted it.

And got even more scorn. I was serving up Starbucks coffee to migrating butterflies that needed a pre-marathon pasta bar with all the trimmings. By wasting time and energy for my non-nutritious cultivar, those Monarch would never reach Mexico.

I was stung. But a few readers came to my defense. “Don’t be such a snob”, wrote someone. “The whole idea of HNP (Home-grown National Parks) is to be a snob,” was the reply. Clearly, I had waded into a swamp. I had done so with all good intentions, but I was in over my head.  I selectively replied to a few questions, but steered clear of the snipers laying in wait for me.

The two threads have quieted down. Somewhere in the HNP discussion group, some naïve fool has posted a pretty photo of a plant and is now being pummeled for his or sin of having put the wrong thing into the ground.