When and where do we put on different masks in a social context. And, why?

When Skywoman first scattered the plants, sweetgrass flourished along this river, but today it is gone. Just as the Mohawk language was replaced by English and Italian and Polish, the sweetgrass was crowded out by immigrants. Losing a plant can threaten a culture in much the same way as losing a language. Without sweetgrass, what happens to the baskets? To the ceremonies that use the baskets?

[Part 1]

The history of the plants is inextricably tied with the history of the people, with the forces of destruction and creation. At graduation ceremonies at Carlisle, the young men were required to take an oath, "I am no longer an Indian man. I will lay down the bow and arrow forever and put my hand to the plow." Plows and cows brought tremendous changes to the vegetation. Just as Mohawk identity is tied to the plants the people use, it was for the European immigrants who sought to make a home here. They brought plants familiar to them, and the associated weeds followed the plow, crowding out native plants. Plants mirror changes in culture and ownership of land.

Today this field is choked by a vigorous pasture of foreign plants that the first sweetgrass pickers would not recognize: quack grass, timothy, clover, daisies. The major cause of sweetgrass decline seems to be development, native populations eliminated by wetland draining, and converting wild places to agriculture and pavement. As non-native species come in, they may also crowd out the sweetgrass—plants repeating the history of their people. Tom asked me what it would take to bring sweetgrass back, to create a meadow where basket makers can once again find materials. "Where can we get some seeds?"

I'd been waiting for this day. In nursery beds back at the university, I'd been growing a stock of sweetgrass. I had searched for a grower who could sell us plants to begin the nursery and finally located an operation in California that had some. This seemed odd, since Hierochloe odorata does not occur naturally in California. When I asked about where their planting stock came from, I got a surprising answer. Akwesasne. It was a sign.

The science of restoration ecology depends upon many other factors—soil, insects, pathogens, herbivores, competition. Plants are seemingly equipped with their own sense about where they will live, defying the predictions of science, for there is yet another dimension to sweetgrass's requirements. The most vigorous stands are the ones tended by basket makers. Reciprocity is a key to success. When the sweetgrass is cared for and treated with respect, she will flourish, but if the relationship fails, so does the plant.

This is more than ecological restoration. It's a restoration of the relationship between plants and people. While scientists have made a dent in understanding how to put ecosystems back together, the experiments focus on soil pH and hydrology and exclude spirit. We might look to the Thanksgiving Address for guidance on weaving the two.

We are dreaming of a time when the land might give thanks for the people.