Hundreds of people flocked to the first annual native plant sale hosted by the River Raisin Watershed Council on May 30 in Tecumseh. They arrived before the official start time, and by 2:15 p.m., the parking lot was full. Children got their hands dirty potting plants, musicians strummed beneath a shade tree, and native plant vendors displayed their leafy offerings alongside tables staffed by the conservation district and their local partners.
Lydia Lopez, water stewardship coordinator for the watershed council, explained the purpose of the event: “It’s fundamentally about fostering a deeper connection between the community and its natural environment, with a strong emphasis on education and collaboration.” She highlighted how native species support local pollinators, conserve water, prevent soil erosion, and create resilient habitats for wildlife.
Native plants are species that evolved in relationship with the unique conditions of a place — its soils, animals, insects, and climate — and form the backbone of diverse and resilient ecosystems. Their ongoing decline, beginning with European colonization and accelerating with modern development and industrialization, has caused adverse ripple effects on the living things that depend on them.
The native plant sale became personal for me as I wandered the rows with my parents, who were visiting from Indiana, and two friends. Together with my husband, my friends and I co-steward four acres of land that were once part of a larger 100-acre farm. One of these friends is Bethany Babbitt, who quickly had her arms full of potted plants. “There’s so much variety!” she exclaimed.
Our land tells a story of dramatic change. In the 1800s it was characterized as oak savannah. Back then, someone might encounter Karner blue butterflies amongst wild blue lupines, eastern massasaugas rattlesnakes, and grasshopper sparrows singing their insect-like songs — all rare or endangered species today.
Before colonization, indigenous land stewards maintained the oak savannah through cyclical fire, a practice rooted in reciprocity with the land. While many people still put this traditional ecological knowledge into practice today, the displacement and genocide of indigenous peoples — and the disruption of culturally-embedded burn regimes — have deeply altered the landscape.
After decades without fire and the subsequent years of agricultural use, our shared site is now overrun with invasive species like garlic mustard, autumn olive, bush honeysuckle, common buckthorn, spotted knapweed, sheep sorrel, and motherwort.
“Nonnative bush honeysuckle is one of our huge, voracious volunteers,” Bethany acknowledged, “and we want to phase that out.”
Together we searched for replacement species, guided by binders containing photos and plant descriptions. We selected dogwood, spicebush, and nannyberry for shaded areas. But the real excitement came when we found the paw paw trees.
“I’m jazzed up about the paw paw!” Bethany said. “I’d love it for the area that we’re thinking about for a food forest.”
Paw paw, one of the largest native fruits in the United States, has a custardy texture and a flavor reminiscent of banana, mango, and pineapple. Once dispersed across the continent in the dung of megafauna like mastodons, giant ground sloths, and mammoths, the trees now rely on small mammals and humans to move them around. Many people eat them straight from the tree, but they are also enjoyable in many other forms, from beer to gelato. Deer, however, are out of luck — toxins in the bark, twigs, and leaves repel them.
For Bethany and our group, planting these species represents more than yard decoration. “This is a good step for us,” she said. “We’re figuring out a path forward — how we can best serve the land.”
Dr. Carley Kratz, who supports the watershed council’s education efforts, was impressed by the turnout. “It’s inspiring to see so many people care about planting native plants in their gardens and caring for their property in a way that supports the diverse ecosystems in our watershed.”
Lopez confirmed the event’s success means it will return. “Given the enthusiastic reception, the native plant sale will undoubtedly become an annual fixture, and the watershed council is already looking forward to implementing enhancements to ensure an even larger event next year.”
If you’re interested in learning more or participating in local restoration efforts, organizations like the River Raisin Watershed Council and the Lenawee Conservation District offer tree sales, events, and educational resources.
