One year ago this week, the Los Angeles region experienced one of the most devastating natural disasters in its recorded history. The firestorms in Altadena (the Eaton Fire) and Pacific Palisades (the Palisades Fire) were felt worldwide and remain a daily reality for individuals and communities still navigating what recovery means—both emotionally and within the built environment.

Alongside this human process, our attention naturally turns to the adjacent, altered wildlands we love—places that, not long ago, supported mature stands of native vegetation. Faced with such dramatic change, one may feel compelled to help “heal” the land. Yet in this context, our most supportive action may be to take no action at all: to remain in attentive relationship with the land and allow its inherent recovery processes to unfold without intervention, including refraining from sowing seeds in burn or post-flood areas.

There is healing in consciously observing recovery—an ancient process that has shaped local ecosystems for millennia. While regrowth may not be immediately visible to the human eye, renewal is already underway in the soil seed bank and within the bodies of plants, revealing itself over months and years. Southern California ecosystems have long co-evolved with fire, a natural abiotic force. Many native plants are not only capable of regenerating after fire, but in some cases depend on it to renew and flourish.

Fire-following annual, Phacelia brachyloba (Shortlobe phacelia) sprouting after the 2017 La Tuna Fire. Photo by Genevieve Arnold.

Fire-following annuals, for example, often germinate prolifically in response to smoke, heat, or ash, with seeds that may have lain dormant for decades. Open ground can also support the resurgence of geophytes—plants that grow from underground structures such as bulbs. Other native species are obligate seeders whose seeds require fire to sprout, while resilient pioneer species return quickly to stabilize soils, limit invasive plants, and prepare the land for longer-term recovery.
Well-intentioned seed sowing in post-burn areas can disrupt these processes, introducing competition for space, light, nutrients, and water, and potentially harming site-endemic biodiversity. Genetics is also a concern. Naomi Fraga, Ph.D., Director of Conservation Programs at California Botanic Garden, notes that “possible outcomes when there is genetic mismatch of seed… would be outbreeding depression. This is when you introduce seeds of the same species that are so genetically distant that the interbreeding of those two genetic types causes the offspring to be maladapted to its home environment.”
Even in situations where the intention may be to restore lands that had, before the fire, experienced “type conversion”, a phenomenon where disturbed native plant communities are replaced by more fire-prone invasive grasslands—Dr. Fraga emphasizes that restoration work is best left to the experts: “…there are many organizations and agencies working to combat type conversion and restore lands formerly dominated by chaparral back to shrublands. This is a very difficult and complex process that one shouldn’t try to tackle on their own.” For those interested in contributing, she notes that volunteer opportunities to collect seed, propagate plants, and outplant shrubs can meaningfully support restoration efforts.

This perspective aligns with Theodore Payne Foundation’s long-standing guidance. Our seed offerings are intended for cultivated gardens, not for use in nature preserves, open spaces, wilderness areas, or post-burn sites. Restoration of natural landscapes is best led by Indigenous practitioners of Traditional Ecological Knowledge and ecological scientists.

Native bulbs re-sprouting after fire. Photo by Tim Becker.

So where can individuals focus their energy? In the built environment—our homes, neighborhoods, and communities—where native gardens can create habitat, strengthen ecological connectivity, and deepen our relationship with the land. As Dr. Fraga shares, “increasing stewardship of land that has been subject to intense urbanization not only builds connectivity, but strengthens connections with people and plants.” She adds, “the time I take to steward the land in my garden strengthens my feeling of connection to the land… In times when ecological problems feel insurmountable, I can see the active process of restoration before my own eyes through the native bees visiting my manzanita and the alligator lizard babies scurrying in my penstemon patch.”

Theodore Payne Foundation works in community to cultivate sustainable garden spaces, honor Indigenous knowledge systems that have shaped these landscapes for millennia, and support biodiversity into the future.

For more information on wildfire ecology, visit Theodore Payne Foundation’s Wildfire Resilience web pages.