The 125 different plant species include small trees, shrubs, perennials, and annuals—nearly 90% of which are native to within 300 miles of Des Moines. Here, tall purple spires of prairie blazing star, silver waves of Fredericksburg prairie sage, and yellow swaths of Rudbeckia maxima and Rudbeckia ‘Sweet as Honey’ surround a repurposed galvanized wash tub from Norris's family farm. McKinney waterproofed the tub and turned it into a water feature with a submersible pump. “It provides a lovely reflection,” says Norris. “Our way of capturing the sky.”

“When people hear ‘annuals’ they think of petunias and zinnias,” says Norris, “but there’s a whole lot in our North American palette that has real garden value.” Case in point: Euphorbia marginata, a Great Plains native whose shimmering white leaf margins light up the garden. (Note that it can self-seed aggressively and its sap is toxic if ingested.)

“One model projection suggests that by 2080, Des Moines’ climate will feel like present-day Enid, Oklahoma,” says Norris. With that in mind, the future-thinking couple planted hardy, drought-tolerant varieties. Fine-textured grasses—prairie satin grass, honeycomb blue grama, and purple lovegrass—mingle here with the airy pink-white blooms of 'Whirling Butterflies' beeblossom and the creamy purple whorls of spotted bee balm.

A flowering plant with small blossoms outdoors

Kelsey Hansen

McKinney and Norris's guiding philosophy is to create successful plant communities of species chosen to support and complement each other the way they would in the natural world. The approach has also created other thriving ecological communities, including seed-loving birds, more than 27 superfamilies of wasps, and even a turtle. “The sand was warm and deep and perfect for this turtle to drag itself up from the river,” says McKinney. Above, a common eastern bumblebee hovers over a blue wood aster.

Norris and McKinney have a “plants lead the way” gardening philosophy, which they share with visitors when they host an annual open garden event. “People are almost scared to walk down the path in case they step on something,” says McKinney. “But when we lead them through, we talk about how each footfall might be just the impression that a seed in the seed bank needs to take hold and, a year later, become part of the garden.”

Instead of twisting the garden to their will, they take a more subtle approach to maintenance and care. “We’re probably more like referees,” says Norris. “We’re not coddling things, but sometimes trying to tip the scales towards something that you want to establish.”