Know Thy Bioregion

I garden in the Bay Area of California, a part of the world with a very weird and wonderful climate. As a result of the hilly terrain and interlocking land and water masses on the edge of the ocean, we famously have microclimates, which vary from neighborhood to neighborhood.  So, to be specific, I garden in the East Bay, in Oakland, on a low hill near Lake Merritt on a south-facing balcony.

In my microclimate, we are sheltered from much of the fog and wind that characterizes San Francisco and parts of Berkeley, but our air is cooler than the valleys and flats of Oakland by a barely perceptible couple of degrees. 

Some years, winter is spring, spring is fall, summer is winter, and fall is summer. This year, winter was winter and so is spring and we’ll see what the rest of the year has in store. 

Verdant mounds of nasturtiums and bright clusters of African daisies border sidewalks all year round. Most annuals can be perennials if given the opportunity. 

It’s a lovely place to garden, but also utterly confounding.

A savior appears

A couple months ago, my husband thoughtfully presented me with a slim book entitled Strawberries in November: A Guide to Year-Round Gardening in the East Bay by Judith Goldsmith, published in 1987. 

I was immediately excited about the beautiful cover illustration and window into the 1980s East Bay gardening scene. But once I started reading, I realized I needed this book.

Listen to what Goldsmith says in her introduction: “For the gardener who knows its rhythms, and therefore how to take advantage of its possibilities, the East Bay can be an extravagantly bountiful place to garden… Yet, to the newcomer or inexperienced gardener, the East Bay can be confusing and frustrating. This guidebook has been written for you, to help you get attuned to this very special area and its unique rhythms and harmonies.”

Finally! I’ve remarked before on the dearth of good gardening advice for the Bay Area’s unique growing conditions, let alone the specific qualities of the East Bay. And now I have a book all about that exact topic!

Wherever you live, even if it’s not in this strange land of microclimates and backwards seasons, it’s important to understand the natural rhythms and characteristics of your area, or bioregion. Goldsmith eloquently explains why: “Becoming aware of the rhythm makes us part of it, grounds us, and gives us a sustenance that doesn’t come easily in this speedy, out-of-balance modern world. A link is reopened that has been closed, and the world becomes a more vital and exciting place.” 

That’s the closest anyone has ever come to describing in words why I love gardening so much. I wish I had written that!

Why you need a hyperlocal gardening guide

I admit that at first I was skeptical that a book from the ’80s would still be relevant. But the wisest horticultural and agricultural practices date back millennia. Why shouldn’t a gardening book from 1987 contain useful information? 

For each month of the year, Goldsmith breaks down what weather to expect, what to plant, sow, harvest, fertilize, and prune, and provides a list of plants that will be in bloom and produce you’ll find at the market. She even includes recipes!

Now in my sixth year of East Bay gardening, I have a pretty good sense of what to do and when, but I am often plagued with doubt. Goldsmith explains and validates the confusing and often maddening phenomena I have experienced.

For example, if you read my post on growing vegetables, you’ll recall that my entire crop of tomatoes last year was beset by powdery mildew. From Goldsmith, I learned that “powdery mildew, unlike other mildews which like wetter climates, finds our combination of warm days, cool nights, and low light levels (due to fog) just perfect and spreads rampantly.” Good to know it wasn’t just me!

Goldsmith covers a vast array of plants each month, so even though her book is geared towards gardeners with yards, a small container gardener like me can scan the text for the things I grow. She reassured me, for example, that I was right to mulch my plants with compost and plant out my nasturtiums in March and wait until April to sow basil and chamomile. 

My favorite sections of each month are the list of plants in bloom, including trees, perennials, annuals, and natives. This time of year, every walk is a feast for the senses, with more plants blooming and leafing out every day. Even if I’m already familiar with certain plants, there is something so reassuring about encountering them in my neighborhood after reading about them in this book… like maybe there is some rhyme and reason to this crazy place after all.

How gardening has changed since the ’80s

The habits and needs of plants really don’t change much as the years go by. What has changed since 1987 are environmental best practices, cultural attitudes, and, of course, the climate.

These days, we understand the negative impacts of invasive non-native species on local wildlife and biodiversity and the value of indigenous knowledge to land stewardship. Goldsmith wrote this book before land acknowledgements became an accepted and widespread practice in the Bay Area. In her brief section on the East Bay’s “Early History,” she does not even mention the indigenous populations of this area, the Chochenyo and Karkin Ohlone.

And apparently there was a nascent native plant movement, but it was considered more of a personal preference than a moral imperative. She provides information for both “traditional” gardeners and a “new breed of gardener” who plants natives and drought-tolerant perennials. She cites a drought in 1975-77 as a possible explanation for this shift. 

Well, we know all about that now, don’t we? California is emerging from a historic “megadrought,” events which are becoming more frequent and severe thanks to climate change. State and local governments now offer incentives to people for replacing their thirsty lawns with drought-tolerant plantings. All over Oakland, you see native plants in public areas from parks to road medians. And, tribal leaders and government officials have partnered on fire management programs, utilizing indigenous practices to curb the wildfires that have worsened due to drought conditions.

To me, having lived under these conditions for most of my time in California, this cool, wet spring is unrecognizable. But Goldsmith reminds me that the wet season in the Bay Area typically lasts from October through March, with some straggler storms in April; exactly what we’ve experienced this year. What was the norm has now become the outlier.

Gardening for your bioregion

Despite these ways in which Strawberries in November shows its age (the same age as me, 36), I have yet to find such a practical book about gardening in my specific “bioregion.” Goldsmith defines this term, coined by San Francisco environmental writer Peter Berg in the 1960s, as “a geographic area having common characteristics of soil, watersheds, climate, and native plants and animals; that is, an area which has a unique interlocking web of life distinguishable from that of neighboring regions.“

She then quotes the Delphic Oracle’s exhortation to “know thyself,” and advises: “we are finding today that this self-knowledge includes ‘know thy land’ or ‘know thy bioregion.’ For gardeners it is especially important.” After poring over this book, I do feel closer to this knowledge and more confident in my gardening choices. 

In the East Bay, it feels possible to grow anything at any time of year. The freedom is exhilarating but the infinite options are overwhelming. It helps to have a guide who understands this singular place and I’m happy I’ve found one. I hope you find yours, too.