For the most part, it's common thinking that exotic plants (from other global regions) won't support as much wildlife as native plants -- even if they are adapted to the local conditions and so are low care for humans. Humans may also find them pretty, and the plants could provide other services like cleaning the air, water, and soil. But there are always trade offs, and we have to rely on ourselves to make informed decisions. Horticulture as a field in general has to do that for consumers, especially.

"Native and adapted" is an oft-used term to promote plants that thrive in local sites and ecoregions. "Adapted" will commonly mean both exotic plants and plants native to other regions of the United States. My genuine question is this: if one significant goal is wildlife support, particularly pollinators (adults and larvae), how far can we reach to nearby states or regions for "native" plants before we lose a plethora of ecosystem services? And if the argument is anticipating climate change and species migration, how can we predict the effects and results of both? Shouldn't our goal be to increase indigenous wildlife populations so they theoretically have the chance to build numbers, adapt, and just maybe a few will evolve? Should we keep bringing in new plants to make the region even more altered? And if the "native" plants are in the same ecoregion, does that mean they are part of functioning biodiversity in the place they're being brought to? In what ways?

I'll be even more candid, knowing I'm dipping into some very hot water. But keep in mind my goal is not to undermine but to question and try to think more critically (even if it's uncomfortable), so that we can grow as stewards of life. This is a conversation. So to be candid, if we bring in a plant from the other side of a state next door, is it helping wildlife? What role does it have in this ecosystem? Even if that ecosystem is urban and highly altered -- or rural and highly altered -- many studies show pollinators flock to urban areas for increased numbers of blooms in home landscapes and vacant lots. What species are using what plants -- native, exotic, and next-door native? Are we bringing in plants because it provides us joy and aesthetic delight, or because we're working off of research that shows species currently and / or will need this plant in the near future?

These are genuine questions: I welcome thoughts and answers from those who are far more knowledgeable and experienced than me. I believe it's critical to have these types of conversations as the field of horticulture and landscape design evolves this century amid the pressures of climate change, mass extinction, and urbanization. More and more plants are being called upon to perform on many levels at once, from just surviving and providing aesthetic delight, to sequestering carbon, filtering runoff, and helping birds and pollinators thrive. If we don't ask questions, we'll never grow and adapt with the world we're altering at breakneck speed. 

I walk the garden almost every morning before the sun fully crests a birch tree at the far end. It's not cool -- the air is thick and the weekly forecast of temps near 100 weighs heavily on my thin skin. I'm not the only one taking advantage of this time. Dragonflies abound, resting on every sinew of grass and flower stem, tree branch and seed head. They often point their wings forward like pointer dogs, but I know it's to balance and buffet themselves against a sudden breeze. Although no breeze comes.

It's easy to hear bumble bees from a dozen feet away, especially on the wild senna where they furiously pulse their bodies to shake out pollen. I counted six on just one stem, and their must be thirty stems out here. In the new meadow the young bluestem and sideoats grama are covered in dew that dazzles sharply as light is refracted from inside each droplet. Blossoms of coneflower, blazingstar, black-eyed susan, nodding onion, and verbena hold still in this heavy morning air.

I won't come back out today -- any temperature above 80 starts to make me falter. But I'll listen from a cracked window for a few moments. The bees. The cardinals and finches. I'll catch a blur of black or orange or yellow as butterflies traverse the path from old garden to new with a desert of concrete patio between. Soon it will be autumn, that most glorious season, and we will be frenetic together in our preparations and joy as the chilled garden explodes in bloom one last time.

A long time ago I argued (er, ranted) against the new coneflower cultivars. Most especially those with pompom blooms that allowed no access to pollen and thus provided no seed development for birds. When we alter a plant's ornamental features, often through hybridization and genetic selection, we're changing the chemistry of the planet's nectar, pollen, and leaves. Will insects that evolved to use it, both adults and larvae, be able to identify it? How has its role changed in the environment above and below the soil line when it has orange petals?

This morning Prairie Moon Nursery posted on their Facebook page about a freak white Echinacea pallida in their fields. I'm quoting just the last paragraph:

"It is possible to isolate these flowers and cultivate them to be "true to seed" meaning a seed from a white flower will also be white. However, this cultivation requires artificial selection, and reduces the genetic diversity of the plant population. Since genetic diversity is crucial to a population's survival, we choose to not cultivate these genetic anomalies by breeding out this novel trait, but instead, we just enjoy this curious wonder of the natural world."

So there's another issue right there -- genetic diversity. A lot of plants in the nursery trade are produced from cuttings. What this means is a person in Atlanta could be buying the same exact coneflower as a person in Detroit. Growers, sellers, and buyers demand uniformity so the product is guaranteed to be how it's described on the plant tag. And depending on the origin of that plant, it may bloom earlier or later than when local wildlife have evolved to use it. Plus, it might not do as well in a vastly different climate. When you hear of plants being trialed it's often in one region, or if we're lucky, a few different ones. But the U.S. is a very diverse place, and even if the climate zone is the same, the ecoregion is not.

Right now about the best any consumer can do is getting a straight species plant from a similar latitude. Out here in eastern Nebraska we share a lot of the same native plants as folks in Wisconsin, Ohio, New York, and Tennessee, so getting a plant that was grown and sourced in Ohio means it might do ok out here. Or, it might not, given our drier summers. Ideally, we'd get plants of genetic origin within 30 miles, others would say 100 or 200. And if you get one from a state north or south it will bloom at a different time than the same local plants.

Regardless, the horticulture industry has a lot of challenges to face when promoting pollinator-friendly plants. We don't know what we're doing when we alter plants, but keep making new plants anyway, seemingly disregarding the quality of nectar and pollen as well as co-evolution with fauna.