Some thoughts on Meadows

Oxford Dictionary: (n.) A piece of grassland, especially one used for hay

Merriam Webster: (n.) Land that is covered or mostly covered with grass

USDA: An ecosystem type composed of one or more plant communities dominated by herbaceous species.

The term Meadow has exploded in popularity in recent years, at least here in the Northeast.

Designers include ‘meadows’ in their projects— as seeded buffers beyond the lawn, as a loose term to delineate the intentionally planted areas from the wilder scrub beyond, or (more and more) as a central feature in the landscape.

And homeowners want ‘meadows’ more and more, instead of the traditional mulch and boxwoods.

First, I’ll say: this is wonderful; a trend I’m all for, if only because it means people want a looser, more natural view out their kitchen window.

But, what is a meadow actually?

The term has been wildly inflated lately. I find a different definition in every project and case study I come across. To some, letting the lawn grow tall constitutes a meadow. To others, a flower-filled seed mix from an online retailer fits the bill. And to ecologists there’s a much more specific description that has to do with the species chosen, the way the land is managed thereafter, and where the site is geographically.

In very general terms, we use ‘meadow’ here in New England in contrast to the ‘prairie’ of the midwest. Ecologically and biologically, the two are objectively different. Here are a few key elements that tend to define a ‘meadow’:

Meadows, in most locations, do not occur in a vacuum. They are a response to disruption or management in the landscape— whether through fire, grazing, or forest clearing. In a natural environment, they are not a permanent fixture in the landscape unless disruption continues to keep woody plants from taking back over.

In the 21st century, with less fire in the New England landscape and fewer and fewer acres used for agriculture, the primary ‘disruption’ that maintains an herbaceous meadow is semi-regular mowing. Brush hogs behind a tractor cut things back once or twice a season to keep the natural landscape succession frozen in time.

So whether it’s in our back yard, or on a much larger scale beyond the fence, meadows are an intentional act and one that requires continued management.

Here’s my own admission: a meadow, for me, evokes a feeling more than a list of criteria. It’s a trigger word to send me into an imaginary world of extinct pastoral landscapes; it’s a tapestry of rich brown, green, & gold tones dotted with grazing animals and stone walls.

And I think this is true for many of us. In 2024, there’s an incredible uptick in interest to support wildlife and foster greater diversity on our properties. There’s also an excitement around this style of landscape thanks to high-profile public projects of recent years (think: the Highline, Lurie Garden, etc).

I’d wager the greatest pull is our (sub?)conscious draw to more directly engage with nature. We want to immerse ourselves in the landscape, and not just see it from afar.

But, like with any movement or popular style, there are those who stick strictly to the more traditional definitions of things. Especially when it comes to native plants, etc.

As I foster my own ‘meadows’ at home, and help clients create oasis on their properties, this has been a thought-provoking exercise for me. Can we call these creations ‘meadows’?. Or is there enough scientific delineation out there to say what is and isn’t?

I’ve started to come to the conclusion that a ‘meadow’ can be more about that feeling, than some definition set in the past. We’re all excited about these spaces, so why can’t we create a more inclusive definition to fit our home spaces?

How about something like this: A meadow is primarily herbaceous in its composition, and a continually-managed space— whether it’s mowed, burned, or grazed. A meadow is an inviting nod to our pastoral place, and made up of flowering forbs and grasses that fit the local vernacular and bring us joy.

Should we do away with the hard and fast, black and white definitions, and embrace the fact that this style of landscape excites and inspires people?

I’m curious to hear where you stand on this, and what you might add. I, of course, value ecologically appropriate plant choices in the landscape, but want to be sure we don’t stifle the joy naturalistic spaces bring out in people.