Bringing the Wild Back Home

I live in a neighborhood like many others—houses and yards, driveways and fences, a patchwork of tidy lawns in Front Royal, Virginia. But if you look closely at mine, you’ll see something different. You’ll see the beginnings of a return.

In recent years, I’ve been rewilding my backyard. In this small space, I’ve planted more than two dozen native trees and shrubs: sycamore and tulip poplar, redbud and catalpa, loblolly pine and white oak, black cherry, flowering dogwood, and chestnut oak. I’ve tucked in spicebush, elderberry, buttonbush, winterberry, and arrowwood viburnum. In my garden beds is a profusion of native perennials and grasses: beebalm, mountain mint, blazing star, coreopsis, milkweed, beautyberry, golden alexander, phlox, aster, columbine, and so many more.

I bought young plants from Seven Bends Nursery, a native plant nursery headquartered in Berryville, and I planted each one with care, learning as I went.

And the land is responding.

A zebra swallowtail butterfly rests on native mountain mint in the author’s rewilded backyard in Front Royal, VA.

In just the past two months, I’ve seen a red-spotted purple butterfly, a zebra swallowtail, yellow and black tiger swallowtails, a summer azure, a fritillary, and several monarchs. I’ve seen bumblebees, carpenter bees, honey bees, wasps, and snails. Deer wander through, their fawns in tow. I’ve had visits from raccoons, groundhogs, and skunks with their babies—wild things finding their way back to a place that now welcomes them.

I’m still hoping to see an Eastern box turtle. Or a fox, and chipmunks.

I know I can’t undo centuries of habitat loss. I can’t single-handedly reverse climate change or heal the broken systems that have stripped the land of its richness. But I can do this. I can give one piece of earth back to the plants and creatures who belong here.

I’m glad that the yard I tend has become a place of refuge. I’m happy that the plants I chose are blooming into something bigger than I imagined. I’m happy that this small act—rewilding a small-town backyard—can ripple outward into something wilder, richer, and more alive.

It’s not grand, but it’s mine, my small contribution—a love letter to the Shenandoah Valley.

Cara Aldridge Young
Front Royal, VA

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