tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243763882024-03-06T19:34:02.179-08:00Gaia Gardenlearning to live, naturally.Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.comBlogger691125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-47717320198790394162022-01-26T14:43:00.000-08:002022-01-26T14:43:04.898-08:00Kids in Nature<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgT6KM43owFlFrYHdsfT8IsREHkK-52zEYfVp6yIFWu0aHVUHKJvx8NvBsMlhFv8SBSCH0eAG-kKxQeNBYRV109saIsv-Kr0MgmpYQWmJZOhG9jWc6mqgu2SThn1r2xa1rO1r0B-ABlOFyzUqaejTyeBGAjbQYVAMUmmcW6jTmmKDBuZs0kAg=s1944" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="1544" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgT6KM43owFlFrYHdsfT8IsREHkK-52zEYfVp6yIFWu0aHVUHKJvx8NvBsMlhFv8SBSCH0eAG-kKxQeNBYRV109saIsv-Kr0MgmpYQWmJZOhG9jWc6mqgu2SThn1r2xa1rO1r0B-ABlOFyzUqaejTyeBGAjbQYVAMUmmcW6jTmmKDBuZs0kAg=w318-h400" width="318" /></a></div><br />Richard Louv's important book, <u>Last Child in the Woods,</u> was written in 2008 and brought attention to the reality that few children actually get to spend much time playing freely outdoors. It sparked a subset of parents and other adults who have been trying to encourage families to get their kids outdoors in nature. Unfortunately, it's seemed (from the outside, at least) like a bit of a slog, fighting through the mud that is the way our society is currently set up - barren yards full of chemicalized lawn and non-native plants, schedules jammed with activities that require all of our highly scheduled time and attention, parks given over to sports' fields rather than natural areas, and a general distrust of free time as "unproductive", the ultimate sin in the U.S.<p></p><p>When I was in elementary school, I spent days...weeks... months exploring the woods and creek near our home in College Park, Maryland. There were tadpoles and crayfish to try to catch, minnows and frogs to watch, and many, many special places where my imagination could run wild. The holly glade magically hid me, the tiny islands became my kingdoms, the paths (deer?) became trails leading me to new lands..... When we moved to Massachusetts, I continued playing in the woods but I was getting a bit older. Now I had a favorite log on a hillside overlooking a pond where my best friend and I would go after school to talk and just generally try to figure out life. I led a band of neighborhood kids in catching toads and keeping them, naming them and "training" them to race in sandbox toad races such as high jump, long jump, and speed or distance trials. (What can I say? I knew I'd never have a horse; maybe this was scratching that itch!)</p><p>In junior high, in the Panama Canal Zone, I tried my hand at gardening (I was awful at it) and explored the sea shore as much as I could, bringing home hermit crabs and other sea creatures to form my own attempt at a personal zoo. Sadly, coming home with me was generally a death sentence for the poor animals, but I tried my best to provide good habitat and food for them. Gerald Durrell's <u>My Family and Other Animals</u>, which my maternal uncle had introduced to me, was one of my favorite books - and a real inspiration. More mundanely, I collected shells, too. A lot of shells, which I carefully worked to identify and which I housed in cigar boxes, grouped by "type": moon shells, pen shells, scallops, whelks, cowries, etc. I wanted so badly to be a marine biologist...but our next move was to Kansas and I didn't know any marine biologists. How did you actually make a living as a marine biologist? My courage and my imagination failed me in figuring out how to step in that direction, and life soon led me in other directions.</p><p>All of this is to say that playing outside, freely and with little oversight, was incredibly important to me and was influential in forming the person I became. Greg and I were able to give our kids a taste of that freedom in the natural world, too, when they were in late elementary and middle school.</p><p>And now we're trying to give the gift of free play in nature to our grandsons as well.</p><p>It's a goal that seems to get harder with each generation. If my parents worried about where I was while I was gone for most of each day, playing in the woods, I was unaware of it, and the wild area was right down the street from where we lived. I walked there. When our kids were playing outdoors, we lived in farm country and they were able to ramble through a wooded draw behind our house and through a neighbor's cow pasture.</p><p>Where do kids play now? There are few natural areas left where they can roam and wander at will. There's so much fear about "danger" that parents actually get prosecuted for letting their children roam freely. (Or, at least, that's the story we're told.)</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg-3KUEvCLvqCf_GjyD_DrFmvzg_xa9NNUBoCTUARypNgmSn-_JCL4n877CY6ZLUXXjQrj02cuM-sFvlInfdQtB9Cc0_auPrmvFUFu8RT4blCf1_8b_NrCAUcpHXOfuDGSKlMOVtoX3WBLBVuplGQZcGGYRwDkq7p5Dh4kfoIybbmjGdj3_Cw=s1944" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="1458" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg-3KUEvCLvqCf_GjyD_DrFmvzg_xa9NNUBoCTUARypNgmSn-_JCL4n877CY6ZLUXXjQrj02cuM-sFvlInfdQtB9Cc0_auPrmvFUFu8RT4blCf1_8b_NrCAUcpHXOfuDGSKlMOVtoX3WBLBVuplGQZcGGYRwDkq7p5Dh4kfoIybbmjGdj3_Cw=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br />So I'm working to make our personal landscape an interesting natural area for our grandsons to explore and play in. I've come across a wonderful book by Nancy Striniste, <u>Nature Play at Home</u>, which has a plethora of great ideas for changing your yard from bland to fascinating. I highly recommend it if the topic interests you at all.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiHK_aNeJoQ9JrZ7INqzpu3BVlir6AFkzgqLCMhwb4HOzGr_pXjNdRtfftiNI-bJoc8Zq5Cv4YmDrwrZ4ZplSZiqc3Iv15oftOY6pW9D4bn3vZoh_m-JFfdXtBgKePSBASa0rOY3_rVL6s_4vxyiy37uCb9DNVNUuMRQFLg9WJqq40DWklnSg=s1944" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="1765" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiHK_aNeJoQ9JrZ7INqzpu3BVlir6AFkzgqLCMhwb4HOzGr_pXjNdRtfftiNI-bJoc8Zq5Cv4YmDrwrZ4ZplSZiqc3Iv15oftOY6pW9D4bn3vZoh_m-JFfdXtBgKePSBASa0rOY3_rVL6s_4vxyiy37uCb9DNVNUuMRQFLg9WJqq40DWklnSg=w364-h400" width="364" /></a></div><br />When dead wood was trimmed out of our trees last month, I had the tree service leave the major branches and trunks. One of the things I've done with that dead wood is create play areas for the boys in our yard.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEheX9Chkdk0ljNwyV_11LXfrqmJt7a4YjbtsYEqG5KaKH_i8rVVoTV66BhBYleT_0BkUHWV655sNPOSsc9-t63_IdmmG3DTqBYkmH0K4JPi0yOkGE7fsPM20hIrFcmlcNYav9EkSM6rSG5j-qLU69XPuRRxY73hw2CoxV7Vuu5KtfK7MWV6FQ=s1944" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="1458" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEheX9Chkdk0ljNwyV_11LXfrqmJt7a4YjbtsYEqG5KaKH_i8rVVoTV66BhBYleT_0BkUHWV655sNPOSsc9-t63_IdmmG3DTqBYkmH0K4JPi0yOkGE7fsPM20hIrFcmlcNYav9EkSM6rSG5j-qLU69XPuRRxY73hw2CoxV7Vuu5KtfK7MWV6FQ=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br />Good habitat for people AND animals.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhIYCa2t9Vb92_p8YsDgXcnltywCpPeHrNuEgf0N0yoZTF0nUJGcMBPYNf04W4ZC7JhcXqD2O2HZYyw7NDnUL-DWwH1RjjK1Lhp5axjfZLfsQAhWbC5ohq6T4SMer-ZKk-ekzJSWPNwm_aj1TJqW-PK_KpFnMsCQiwkAJzd0bCDJLNGDBG0ug=s1944" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="1458" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhIYCa2t9Vb92_p8YsDgXcnltywCpPeHrNuEgf0N0yoZTF0nUJGcMBPYNf04W4ZC7JhcXqD2O2HZYyw7NDnUL-DWwH1RjjK1Lhp5axjfZLfsQAhWbC5ohq6T4SMer-ZKk-ekzJSWPNwm_aj1TJqW-PK_KpFnMsCQiwkAJzd0bCDJLNGDBG0ug=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br />Even their dad has gotten in on the action!<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVg3V7J3yw7qr_966b7lZLkRfVpvW_t904Ptz4p0GCCa8uVIOfqIqPbl5sdZXkudyrRMoG-ElNkDXxqu6HG9N68lQJHUAh_3PFnOA_DoHwo0MZQovt03LY48uMyDMKMWEIApgbVl-EBC9dxp8KxOHsfqh83WLSwoPZ0Q-BoDW1xHLIjYpoTg=s1944" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1458" data-original-width="1944" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVg3V7J3yw7qr_966b7lZLkRfVpvW_t904Ptz4p0GCCa8uVIOfqIqPbl5sdZXkudyrRMoG-ElNkDXxqu6HG9N68lQJHUAh_3PFnOA_DoHwo0MZQovt03LY48uMyDMKMWEIApgbVl-EBC9dxp8KxOHsfqh83WLSwoPZ0Q-BoDW1xHLIjYpoTg=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br />Bare feet are the norm for the boys, not the exception. In fact, it's hard now to get them to wear shoes, even in cold weather. Talk about "grounding"!<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqLslM0dR0Mw8WetfGCOxwGQS2hsVWq3EEZ-3zN6uvNcLel_Zw_5KQ-GRgyULBMDiXQNK7KwlbPljxDEyolIFjo1cEOlNCuy5tRmUvCMCueGqEru407LCGFLjzxVEFIvzSiWSMKvtFQaJv4g0ls4KmjuvuAnCauChneB4R6pASDBwoRcl0LQ=s1944" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="1824" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqLslM0dR0Mw8WetfGCOxwGQS2hsVWq3EEZ-3zN6uvNcLel_Zw_5KQ-GRgyULBMDiXQNK7KwlbPljxDEyolIFjo1cEOlNCuy5tRmUvCMCueGqEru407LCGFLjzxVEFIvzSiWSMKvtFQaJv4g0ls4KmjuvuAnCauChneB4R6pASDBwoRcl0LQ=w375-h400" width="375" /></a></div><br />And imaginations run wild.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgiTVgA3gdf2SsfvOPQyrkDc4UlFlFkVDRAvn9O-EeVe9o927rbRGsd4j9hiErIYaBBkAqUD6EUgGxs6QaMOdmxljgUza8Lhckw7nyQJ_mG6ZuZOEdO2qj_mSbfubLAiUS5smwRjegLm09VXVHaVni49ymKf08hnCMBny5ZcIr3if28b6crZg=s1944" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="1571" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgiTVgA3gdf2SsfvOPQyrkDc4UlFlFkVDRAvn9O-EeVe9o927rbRGsd4j9hiErIYaBBkAqUD6EUgGxs6QaMOdmxljgUza8Lhckw7nyQJ_mG6ZuZOEdO2qj_mSbfubLAiUS5smwRjegLm09VXVHaVni49ymKf08hnCMBny5ZcIr3if28b6crZg=w324-h400" width="324" /></a></div><br />My heart truly swelled with happiness and pride the day that the boys came outside, on their own, with notebooks, guidebooks, binoculars, and pencils to "study nature".<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZEwniuBWfzwnj0nL_OmpsoWWcNCHiZ0nJepukQsfjzRsWPerjM86scMG_k5_i-7GxUv454I8UvGIJiKaiTQa9Uas1HaH6QaQ60btlMWP-_7cX6U7WmT1pGzxW67Nf1FIE4zW2YJswcRz1Yp0jP2actTNOE0B6tXdUCFR597cOXSJR2xAOmA=s1944" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="1458" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZEwniuBWfzwnj0nL_OmpsoWWcNCHiZ0nJepukQsfjzRsWPerjM86scMG_k5_i-7GxUv454I8UvGIJiKaiTQa9Uas1HaH6QaQ60btlMWP-_7cX6U7WmT1pGzxW67Nf1FIE4zW2YJswcRz1Yp0jP2actTNOE0B6tXdUCFR597cOXSJR2xAOmA=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br />They are not always successful in their endeavors - patience was not their strong suit as Connor tried to entice birds to eat out of his hand. But that's part of the learning.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhOSiYRvmuhbIQzdpJW5sc1z8fuvliplZkEia859ZNONXsgmJmWI8hdI8cFwRNw4qrsnAgXKcx21N-5qO-Gik2SVORgr4aJ5DM-0flnzmW0ILMBhAaAfSMqAAzC7vPWgiJSUpsHKtjlSGvzp8cj-6A3xi8TjMeGrlEUmMudx93GWPGGCiSwEg=s1944" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="1458" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhOSiYRvmuhbIQzdpJW5sc1z8fuvliplZkEia859ZNONXsgmJmWI8hdI8cFwRNw4qrsnAgXKcx21N-5qO-Gik2SVORgr4aJ5DM-0flnzmW0ILMBhAaAfSMqAAzC7vPWgiJSUpsHKtjlSGvzp8cj-6A3xi8TjMeGrlEUmMudx93GWPGGCiSwEg=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br />Even meal times have an element of outside nature for all of us, as we watch our bird feeders from the table on the back porch. The boys have become excellent birders. For example, it was our older grandson who first noticed the immature male Baltimore oriole feeding on the bark butter feeder a few weeks ago. I'm not sure I wouldn't have quickly glanced at the bird and dismissed it as the pine warbler that had been frequently visiting. I never expected a Baltimore oriole in January!<p></p><p>In other interactions with animals, we and the boys watch fireflies at night in the summer - last summer we noticed 3 different waves of them: one in April, one in mid summer, and one in early fall. The April fireflies seem to stay 30' or more above the ground. I've even found the firefly larvae occasionally as I weed. </p><p>We planted around 30 swamp milkweed last spring and we watched for monarch caterpillars all summer long; we did find a few and we're hoping for more next summer. Our plants are still young. We've found large numbers of black swallowtail caterpillars on parsley, enough that we've had to hit the grocery store for organic parsley when the hungry hordes decimated the plants they were on.</p><p>Late this summer, a box turtle wandered through the front yard - the first one I've seen in our yard in 2 years. We see skinks and a few baby toads. The boys haven't shown any interest in toad races yet, though! </p><p>I hope we're building happy memories for them, strongly grounded in the natural world, that will last the boys for a lifetime. Most importantly, I hope we're helping to create a new generation that cares enough about the Earth to help care for it in the future.</p>Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-61691797007344048592022-01-19T18:52:00.000-08:002022-01-19T18:52:06.132-08:00A New Home, A New Yard, A New Challenge.....<p> It's been almost 3 years since I last posted to this blog, for which I apologize. Life has presented challenges for me, personally, during that time, as it has for all of us around the world.</p><p>We moved from Florida to southeast Virginia in August 2019, so I had to leave my Gulf Coast garden behind for others to tend and begin a new garden here in the Williamsburg area. This is proving to be a real challenge.</p><p>For the first time in many years of gardening, I find myself floundering, even with the basic thoughts of what I want to do in this yard. While I love trees and woodlands, I'm unsure how to proceed in our secondary growth, eastern deciduous forested yard. My goals seem strong, yet confusingly nebulous: use native plants and improve the habitat, while designing a yard that encourages others to WANT a native landscape and that fits in with the somewhat traditional neighborhood we live in.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgGGJLIxgJG0Dg-JbJjF8nXg1WhbGBP2TdvRG2eqw91XK_mqKlbNH2TopbcNJ_te2uai6hK45_NzmZR6-8LBh50QUA0aTkU6fpH49rR3QhQCFqV8HEGZqv6bl3LQtUr2hOYZhiTpFCv3DnoUU9D1xwCoDNyWNfpuzY5-H4XGr4l9Olm996TLA=s1944" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1458" data-original-width="1944" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgGGJLIxgJG0Dg-JbJjF8nXg1WhbGBP2TdvRG2eqw91XK_mqKlbNH2TopbcNJ_te2uai6hK45_NzmZR6-8LBh50QUA0aTkU6fpH49rR3QhQCFqV8HEGZqv6bl3LQtUr2hOYZhiTpFCv3DnoUU9D1xwCoDNyWNfpuzY5-H4XGr4l9Olm996TLA=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><p>This photo was taken today from the front of our house, looking towards the street. I've started incorporating fallen wood and wood from having our trees trimmed, but that's a post for another time. As always, during the winter, you can see the "bones" (which are rather bare), but there are perennials and ferns moving in...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhRWJry8nW4dmKn_k8KKzHueg_havVWl8pUE5vA6WCjAopI5C29eqRVOA-JLNutPKoiHgr0bEdrhC-mF_lBeJdjuBgDQtKV9rwhp-svx62Y62NX8itGSYsvSvvIQTYk_idpa6WHbQ9BVJgGI0SeOP5BQ0DmlUxTkigudJws_vGYX3ag5sCJ4g=s1944" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="1465" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhRWJry8nW4dmKn_k8KKzHueg_havVWl8pUE5vA6WCjAopI5C29eqRVOA-JLNutPKoiHgr0bEdrhC-mF_lBeJdjuBgDQtKV9rwhp-svx62Y62NX8itGSYsvSvvIQTYk_idpa6WHbQ9BVJgGI0SeOP5BQ0DmlUxTkigudJws_vGYX3ag5sCJ4g=s320" width="241" /></a></div><p>...as you can see from this photo, taken from the front porch taken in mid October. So far, however, it's all very haphazard.</p><p>So, to give you an outline: our yard is 2/3 acre, with 100' tall deciduous trees and understory trees. The only shrubs present were planted by prior owners and are almost exclusively non-native ornamentals, while the ground layer was dominated by Japanese stilt grass and assorted other non-native weedy plants when we moved in.</p><p>I have spent the last 2 summers learning about and observing our yard. Weeding has been my primary activity, pulling out stilt grass and other weeds like false strawberry, oriental hawksbeard, and ground ivy. While I've weeded, I've watched to see what plants I find buried within the weeds and seeding in. There have been some fun finds along the way:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjjQB5XsddFmql0eeETNJoGMNwiFGcZhwjGzkp0xlfaylY1tV5w414ygIwj4OqDDfqtuObZj_xGYCpreDmtpLXJYuBlrurUTYHPxnGg4sy_wHJuFV6UaTP2CVbFcL285cy2bVxB-r5RkoqrdP9ow4ehwTFCHf99qW8jv3mviX_H1x-VIByxg=s1944" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="1316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjjQB5XsddFmql0eeETNJoGMNwiFGcZhwjGzkp0xlfaylY1tV5w414ygIwj4OqDDfqtuObZj_xGYCpreDmtpLXJYuBlrurUTYHPxnGg4sy_wHJuFV6UaTP2CVbFcL285cy2bVxB-r5RkoqrdP9ow4ehwTFCHf99qW8jv3mviX_H1x-VIByxg=s320" width="217" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>striped wintergreen (<i>Chimaphila maculata</i>),</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgkgQmE_QbRTNt5CulJ9bCdfYcAtY1x6_tVjBcQotY1rvtVasw0Obo33-6v4UpRWPWzGVAl9AGgkC2UysbBDL1Qzo4bUnuSTLuJmYrSur-0WMs6kOwV9KtH_ne_IvHA4QP_HcuNmiHQeJkw2meGBb3yWTP829oFf7VKMjxz1nx6db5ERxc4IA=s1944" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="1381" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgkgQmE_QbRTNt5CulJ9bCdfYcAtY1x6_tVjBcQotY1rvtVasw0Obo33-6v4UpRWPWzGVAl9AGgkC2UysbBDL1Qzo4bUnuSTLuJmYrSur-0WMs6kOwV9KtH_ne_IvHA4QP_HcuNmiHQeJkw2meGBb3yWTP829oFf7VKMjxz1nx6db5ERxc4IA=s320" width="227" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>cranefly orchid (<i>Tipularia discolor</i>),</p><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhoJG2H1pXp-mUKqY_v6FzkdAVpm1dufPEkOH-pLYpZFRWkc5IH_JAHWQkCsZK-OWn_zWGQScfDxia-EKmo7w6ptd4kr8jXXTOg1ZS-B2Jm6fCKIVvLfDMqy9CH0fmmPhVM6-DteY7uux80FtjYNS9u9NngdpSiHZ2145BtyxfWCR2u9cGJfw=s1944" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="1889" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhoJG2H1pXp-mUKqY_v6FzkdAVpm1dufPEkOH-pLYpZFRWkc5IH_JAHWQkCsZK-OWn_zWGQScfDxia-EKmo7w6ptd4kr8jXXTOg1ZS-B2Jm6fCKIVvLfDMqy9CH0fmmPhVM6-DteY7uux80FtjYNS9u9NngdpSiHZ2145BtyxfWCR2u9cGJfw=s320" width="311" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>cutleaf grape fern (<i>Sceptridium dissectum</i>), </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>and southern adder's tongue (<i>Ophioglossum pycnostichum</i>). None of these plants are large or showy, but all 4 of these species are dependent on mycorrhizae in the soil, which tickles me because it means that our soil still has some serious life in it and is, presumably, fairly healthy.</p><p>Moss covers many areas of the soil - and I have quickly learned that it is a wonderful seedbed for other plants, desirable and otherwise.</p><p>Serendipitously, I am finding seedlings of wax myrtle (Morella cerifera), spicebush (Lindera benzoin), and a few perennials like old field aster (<i>Symphotrichum pilosum</i>), mist flower (<i>Conoclinium coelestinum</i>) and golden ragwort (<i>Packera aurea</i>), a healthy clump of which showed up on its own.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjE8pKOmOuA_SVVHik_ccGTbrbZ7CEeHvRm-1OWPwcB32FU3TjYFI5kR3Hn1_SXE-9iHcmnoPAtI3eKZu6dUNI-tIVRDGcBVVXGYagQCTdhDazTwbyP4B0LtA13OGkrt09crE4Bpr8NOCIuSSdGAZ4DT6tZUP5TY7Anw46l-LmVyxw3OcVaEQ=s1944" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="1927" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjE8pKOmOuA_SVVHik_ccGTbrbZ7CEeHvRm-1OWPwcB32FU3TjYFI5kR3Hn1_SXE-9iHcmnoPAtI3eKZu6dUNI-tIVRDGcBVVXGYagQCTdhDazTwbyP4B0LtA13OGkrt09crE4Bpr8NOCIuSSdGAZ4DT6tZUP5TY7Anw46l-LmVyxw3OcVaEQ=s320" width="317" /></a></div><p>Above is a clump of aster that self seeded into the front bed by our walkway. I think it's an old field aster, but I'm not completely sure, since this one is taller and airier than the others. That could, of course, simply be due to higher levels of shade. If you look closely, you can see some mist flower in front of it - they make a nice combination, I think, blooming at essentially the same time. The aster is much too large for this spot, though, and will be moved this spring. I'm not sure if I'll be moving the mist flower along with it.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgC98ZhysjaiGDpugtOAPdPKBzCsrrjyei8cqRVgMgDO7zXPNhWE04fLlCZcqX9hDvaickXurAZPzYwCoaY6bJPyE3KPd1YF975u8TEZ5T5V3nC-MtXlJNyqlPYOYOmsonZp6XWWGmm0eWJ3p9UMC_SUjIHA9IrzIil4DZOqGIGQu1hAIQYAg=s1944" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="1764" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgC98ZhysjaiGDpugtOAPdPKBzCsrrjyei8cqRVgMgDO7zXPNhWE04fLlCZcqX9hDvaickXurAZPzYwCoaY6bJPyE3KPd1YF975u8TEZ5T5V3nC-MtXlJNyqlPYOYOmsonZp6XWWGmm0eWJ3p9UMC_SUjIHA9IrzIil4DZOqGIGQu1hAIQYAg=s320" width="290" /></a></div><p>Several different kinds of ferns have shown up in the yard as well, including the Christmas fern (<i>Polystichum acrostichoides</i>) you see to the left here, sensitive fern (<i>Onoclea sensibilis</i>), and others that I'm still leery of naming with any certainty.</p><p><br /></p><p>Now that I'm ready to change from focusing on weeding and discovery to planning and planting, I'm stuck on dead center. The best I've come up with so far is to create a path through a "woodland garden", then plant the garden alongside it that will make the path enjoyable. I also dearly want some sort of screen between the front of the house and the road. </p><p>Meanwhile, I'm "leaving the leaves" and hoping to encourage a healthier soil microbiome and more invertebrate life. So far I've seen few invertebrates at ground level, which worries me.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggVQqakpTpewOUm8YZqvM-TpHq7iDy2yLxbObB0GOTZ4fuFKfYHfnez6T0gv6SSj0PoQp8WE2zlml1slNmba8Nou8hz6IIRy4A7aIBnYNPH9iCFHcuBbl9-rfoeLLbv4yMTEqbBHcDDZ9EGPwKVdYxutNZEt30l6UdipXSGKIEa7xjx_ExSw=s1944" style="clear: right; display: inline; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="1623" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggVQqakpTpewOUm8YZqvM-TpHq7iDy2yLxbObB0GOTZ4fuFKfYHfnez6T0gv6SSj0PoQp8WE2zlml1slNmba8Nou8hz6IIRy4A7aIBnYNPH9iCFHcuBbl9-rfoeLLbv4yMTEqbBHcDDZ9EGPwKVdYxutNZEt30l6UdipXSGKIEa7xjx_ExSw=s320" width="267" /></a>So wish me luck, please. On this project, I can use all the luck and good wishes that I can get!</p><p>And help me, please, to keep perspective about my fellow "gardeners" here: the deer, the voles, and the Asiatic garden beetles. They, too, are an integral part of the challenge of gardening in this beautiful area.</p><p><br /></p><p>At least they don't seem to like ferns.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-64273749118604424712019-02-10T13:00:00.000-08:002019-02-10T13:00:21.556-08:00Insects Using Gaillardia in My GardensAnother staple of my (native) pollinator plants is Indian blanket or Gaillardia, <i>Gaillardia pulchella</i> to be precise. This widespread, short-lived perennial blooms for months and months; the colorful blossoms almost always seem to have some sort of insect on them. <br />
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Interestingly, though, as I went through my photos, the variety of insects utilizing Gaillardia was not as great as it was for fogfruit. For 2018, I have photos of only 6 different species using Gaillardia in my gardens. <br />
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By far the most frequent visitor to my Indian blanket flowers was Poey's Furrow Bee (<i>Halictus poeyi</i>), one of the small, somewhat nondescript, native bees. <br />
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I saw this little bee a lot, from early June through the end of October, and it could well have been present before or after I have it documented photographically. As I understand it, the hook on the back, lower corner of the head, which you can see in this photo, is "diagnostic" of this species. Even in photographs, though, it can be hard to see this feature due to the diminutive size of this bee and the fact that it tends to round its back and tuck its head a bit as it feeds.<br />
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This is typical of what I usually see, even through the camera lens, when looking at Poey's Furrow Bee.<br />
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Throughout the summer months, the Brown-winged Striped Sweat Bees (<i>Agapostemon splendens</i>) visited regularly. I love these vivid little green jewels. The females are solid green, while the males have black and yellow striped abdomens and a green "jacket" on the thorax. <br />
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In the photo above, the male is probably more interested in the female than in the flower.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhinJ22PbWSKHoXvDUdHaZp1DNuoz0xtAWcncBOQ9ucpVHnQ8UocZRBRKarlerjlZmTVqYFgyXvpHzIrXeVLWQNzM-jZdPNFU-2nmdcr9503roB1ZMsgs6oKTjxmrXeTvcGIBPm/s1600/Brown-winged+Striped+Sweat+Bee+female%252C+8+Aug+2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="860" data-original-width="749" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhinJ22PbWSKHoXvDUdHaZp1DNuoz0xtAWcncBOQ9ucpVHnQ8UocZRBRKarlerjlZmTVqYFgyXvpHzIrXeVLWQNzM-jZdPNFU-2nmdcr9503roB1ZMsgs6oKTjxmrXeTvcGIBPm/s400/Brown-winged+Striped+Sweat+Bee+female%252C+8+Aug+2018.jpg" width="347" /></a></div>
Here is a closer view of a different female, giving you a bit more of a feel for the vivid coloration of these little sweethearts. What a disappointment the common name of this bee is - "Brown-Winged Striped Sweat Bee". The "<i>A. splendens</i>" of the Latin name much more closely describes how I feel about them! <br />
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An insect that I've seen on several different plants around the yard, this Camouflaged Looper, a.k.a. the caterpillar of the Wavy Emerald Moth (<i>Synchlora aerata</i>), looks a bit different depending on which bloom it's raiding for its wardrobe.<br />
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What looks like a large, brightly colored piece of debris hanging from the underside of the flower is, in fact, the caterpillar with bits of petal attached. <br />
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Yes, the bloom this little guy raided looks rather tattered, but I personally think it's well worth the less than perfect blossom to see how the flower finery has been used! In 2018, I photographed camouflaged loopers on Gaillardia blooms on June 23 and again on August 5.<br />
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Getting back to native bees, one of my favorite groups is the leafcutter bees. Females in this group are easy to recognize because they carry pollen in hairs on the underside of their abdomen, giving them a potbellied appearance. <br />
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This cute little female (<i>Megachile</i> sp.) demonstrates that trait perfectly.<br />
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The only insect I photographed utilizing something besides the bloom
of Gaillardia was this paper wasp, which I saw on July 18th.<br />
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Truthfully,
I don't know if I just didn't notice other insects on the stems and
leaves, or if few insects actually utilize the foliage of this plant. <br />
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The final insect in my Gaillardia roundup is this flower beetle, the Pygmy Chafer (<i>Strigoderma pygmaea</i>).<br />
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<br />In conclusion, I enjoy having Gaillardia in my gardens a lot, finding that it brings in a reasonable number of insects and provides a nice pop of color throughout most of the growing season. Loving full sun and tolerating pretty dry conditions, it's usually very easy to grow. The only downside I've found to <i>Gaillardia pulchella</i> is that each
individual plant lasts for 2-3 years at most. It will reseed a bit
and, if I watch for seedlings, I can usually keep it as a garden
presence without having to buy it again each year. If you live within its (wide) native range, I'd definitely recommend it for your pollinator garden.<br />
<br />Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-47184802160262968132019-01-30T21:53:00.001-08:002019-02-10T15:27:56.482-08:00Turkey Tangle Fogfruit CommunityCertain plants seem to create large communities of insects and other wildlife within my garden. I thought I'd do a series on a couple of these species, starting with <b>Turkey Tangle Fogfruit (<i>Phyla nodiflora</i>)</b>. As I've gone through my photos from last year, I realized I've got pictures from at least <b>23 different species of animals using this species in 2018 alone</b> - and that's just the number I captured with my camera. I know there were animals using it that I wasn't able to capture on film (like swallowtail butterflies). I'm equally certain there were animals using it that I simply didn't see.<br />
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Fogfruit is not a showy species to my eye. Although some people really like its dainty flowers, to be honest, I find this plant rather blah visually. It is, however, a powerhouse for supporting pollinators and other insects and, as such, has earned a place in my yard whenever possible.<br />
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Essentially a groundcover, fogfruit grows around 8" tall. About 3 years ago, I started out with 2 plants in gallon containers, planted 2' apart. The fogfruit now covers an area that is about 6' X 8' - and it would be happy to be out in the driveway and into the street, too, if we didn't keep it trimmed back. On the plus side, fogfruit manages to hold its space fairly well, once established, and doesn't need much of any care.<br />
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The first photos I have of the animals it harbored last year are from mid-May.<br />
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Here is a small spider that I saw on May 15th, then didn't see again all year. It's a pretty little thing which the great folks at Antman's Hill on Facebook helped me to identify as an orbweaver, <i>Gea heptagon</i>.<br />
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On the same day, I captured a photo of this little syrphid fly (<i>Toxomerus</i> sp.) nectaring at one of the fogfruit blossoms.<br />
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Like others in this genus, the larvae of this fly feed on aphids, thrips, and small caterpillars throughout the garden, so it's nice to see the adult visiting.<br />
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By June 10th, the action was heating up. There was this cute little orange "teddy bear" nectaring, a bee fly (<i>Chrysanthrax cypris</i>).<br />
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Cute as this guy is, its life cycle is less cuddly. Flies in the <i>Chrysanthrax</i> genus are external parasitoids on the cocoons of some solitary bees and on the cocoons of tiphiid wasps, which are themselves predators of beetle larvae. The "balance of nature" is sometimes hard for me to feel comfortable with and gracefully accept, but I do my best.<br />
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Throughout June and again in August, I have photos of another bee fly (<i>Exoprosopa fascipennis</i>) nectaring at the fogfruit.<br />
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Again, I find this an attractive little creature, but again its life cycle is rather fearsome. The bee flies in <i>Exoprosopa</i> feed on the cocoons of many different kinds of wasps, including the tiphiid wasps mentioned above, spider wasps, and a group of solitary wasps known as sphecid wasps.<br />
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Speaking of wasps, in mid June, this scoliid wasp (<i>Scolia nobilitata</i>) was enjoying the fogfruit nectar, too.<br />
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Scoliid wasps are parasitoids of beetle grubs, especially the grubs of May beetles. The females dig down to the grub, sting it to paralyze it, and deposit on egg. When the egg hatches, the wasp larva eats the perfectly preserved beetle grub. I like my grub control to be natural (even if it is rather gruesome that way)!<br />
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Since both the bee flies and the scoliid wasp were nectaring at the same time on the same plant, it is possible that one or the other of the bee fly species parasitizes this scoliid wasp species, following females as they leave their feeding ground and search for beetle grubs to parasitize. There is so much about these little guys that we simply don't know, even things as basic as which bee fly species parasitizes which wasp species. Often these predator/prey relationships with parasitoids are very specific, confined to just one or two species, or perhaps between two particular genuses.<br />
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Moving back to less gory lifecycles, a couple days after photographing the pretty wasp above, I started capturing images of butterflies and skippers. First was this Fiery Skipper (<i>Hylephila phyleus</i>) on June 16th.<br />
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Since the larvae of fiery skippers dine on grasses such as St. Augustine, this species is relatively common.<br />
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On June 22nd, I photographed the first Phaon Crescent (<i>Phyciodes phaon</i>) of the year, although these photos are from later in the summer.<br />
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These cute little orange butterflies utilize fogfruit as their larval plant, as well as obviously nectaring on it. Since I see quite a few of them, I'm pretty sure that my little patch of fogfruit is producing phaon crescents, but I've never actutally found one of the caterpillars.<br />
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Something sure likes to eat the fogfruit leaves, though!<br />
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I spotted this dainty damselfly hanging out around the fogfruit several times last summer. It's the only damselfly or dragonfly species that I photographed on the fogfruit last year, and the folks at Antman's Hill identified it for me as a male Rambur's Forktail (<i>Ischnura ramburii</i>). That makes sense, as I've seen the (orange) female Rambur's Forktail in the yard multiple times, although I've never photographed one on the fogfruit.<br />
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There were several more wasps and bees over the course of the summer, including this potter or mason wasp on July 20th, .....<br />
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...and this paper wasp (<i>Polistes metricus</i>) on August 10th.<br />
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I actually don't see many paper wasps in the yard - which is fine with me. Instead, I see lots of solitary wasps, who are generally much easier to share space with. <br />
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One of my favorite finds was this cute little black leafcutter bee, the Carpenter Mimic Leafcutter Bee (<i>Megachile xylocopoides</i>). As the name suggests, this stunning black bee with the fluorescent blue shimmer is considered a mimic of larger carpenter bees, specifically the Southern Carpenter Bee, which I also saw in my yard last summer. <br />
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Note the long hairs on the underside of the abdomen? That's how you can tell it's a leafcutter bee - at least if it's a female. Female leafcutter bees carry pollen in those hairs, often giving them a potbellied appearance. This gal was apparently feeding herself, not gathering pollen for future offspring.<br />
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On August 8th, I was able to capture photos of a Barred Sulfur (<i>Eurema daira</i>) visiting...<br />
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...and if you look closely at the stem a few inches below the blossom, you'll see the wad of spittle that signifies a spittlebug nymph feeding - yet another insect species utilizing the fogfruit.<br />
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A few days later, I photographed this crisp Checkered Skipper (<i>Pyrgus</i> sp.).<br />
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Apparently, most skipper larvae fold and sew leaves together to make tent shelters for themselves, so don't be too quick to destroy any such structures you might come across in your garden.<br />
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Of the 23 species I photographed on my Turkey Tangle Fogfruit in 2018, the above photos were the most interesting and/or the insects were the most photogenic. Rounding out my 23 species were 4 more species of flies, 2-3 species of small beetles, a honeybee, and two other bees I haven't been able to identify yet.<br />
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Like the plant they were visiting, most of these animals aren't large or particularly beautiful. They are the everyday denizens of our gardens, busily living their lives and often feeding other animals in the process. To me, each of these species has the right to exist, the right to its place on this Earth, just as much as any other species has that same right. I hope that, someday soon, we humans can learn to coexist with the other plants and animals on this planet, instead of needlessly and carelessly destroying them.Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-62953388886441808692018-10-28T20:09:00.003-07:002018-10-28T20:09:26.609-07:00Book Time: CLIMATE-WISE LANDSCAPINGAfter reading this review, you can heave a big sigh of relief -I will have caught up with all my gardening related book reviews!<br />
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Having just finished <u>Climate-Wise Landscaping</u>, I feel very au courant in writing this review!<br />
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I'm not sure what I was expecting, but somehow this book seemed different from what the title suggested it was going to be - different in a good way, more important, filling a gap that's been existing in gardening literature.<br />
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<u>Climate-Wise Landscaping: Practical Actions for a Sustainable Future</u>, by Sue Reed and Ginny Stibolt, New Society Publishers, British Columbia, Canada, 2018, is a perfect guide for people who are worried about our planet's future and are looking for something that they, personally, can do to help lessen climate change and to make our ecosystems healthier.<br />
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Every single piece of land can help heal our planet. <br />
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There are ten sections in this book, each section dealing with an area of the landscape around a typical home, wherever it is located, starting with the lawn. Why do Reed and Stibolt begin with the lawn? As they put it, "<i>...[C]hanging the way we think about and deal with our lawns might be the easiest and most significant step we can take to help the planet.</i>" How much lawn do you think there is in the continental U.S.? According to the International Society for Photogrammetry and Remote Sensing, as quoted in this book, there is about 63,000 square miles of lawn, an area approximately the size of the state of West Virginia. That's a lot of lawn - and most of it gets mowed weekly, inundated with fertilizers and pesticides, and irrigated. Despite all those inputs, lawn produces no food, for people or even for wildlife. It's essentially a sterile wasteland.<br />
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Reed and Stibolt go on to cover many other ways we can help the climate by changing the way we use our landscape. For example, planting trees sequesters a lot of carbon, as does, surprisingly to me, increasing the health of soils and decreasing the disturbance to them. Did you know that soils sequester more than 4 times the amount of carbon as forests? I didn't. Apparently they are the second largest carbon dioxide absorbing system on our planet, after oceans. I also didn't know that every time you disturb the soil - through digging, for example - you release carbon dioxide. So switching from planting annuals, which have to be replanted regularly, to planting perennials actually helps the planet by sequestering carbon!<br />
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I'm all for minimizing digging, so that's what I call a win-win.<br />
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There's a section on how good planning and design of a landscape can help decrease energy use (and thus carbon dioxide emissions), as well as a section specifically devoted to urban issues. Each section contains an introductory explanation, followed by a series of "Action Topics", specific ways you can make your landscape work to help stabilize Earth's climate and often to help yourself and other living things at the same time. <br />
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Last, but hardly least, the final section covers materials that are commonly used in landscaping and evaluates their carbon footprint, helping us choose rationally among such options as concrete, brick, stone, even asphalt. This is the first time I've ever seen a carbon analysis of landscaping materials and I really appreciate finding it included in this book.<br />
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This is an excellent resource to start with if you're interested in personally doing something specific to help the future of our species and of our planet. It's a broad overview of the topics covered; for specific details, you will probably want to explore the areas that interest you further, with further reading or study. Most of all, <u>Climate-Wise Landscaping</u> examines a broad array of possibilities - and possibilities are a great starting point for building a better future. Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-79667610683074539712018-10-26T12:50:00.000-07:002018-10-26T12:50:08.815-07:00Book Time: THE INWARD GARDENI don't know about you, but I have a perplexing habit of buying books and then getting distracted before I actually read them. Thus my shelves are full of books that look awesome, but that I haven't read yet.<br />
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<u>The Inward Garden:Creating a Place of Beauty and Meaning</u>, by Julie Moir Messervy, Little, Brown and Company, 1995, is a book that has been a victim of my book hoarding habit, but this spring I finally read it - cover to cover - and I fell in love. I truly don't remember when I found and bought this book. I'm hoping it wasn't shortly after it was published, in 1995, because that would mean that I've been unnecessarily missing the wisdom found within its pages for over 20 years.<br />
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Unlike the last 3 books I've reviewed, which have focused on native plants and gardening for wildlife, this book is more of a classic garden design book. And yet it's so much more than just that.....<br />
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<u>The Inward Garden</u> encourages us to make gardens more than just pretty places. In the beginning of this book, Moir Messervy describes a garden in this way, "...<i>[A] garden means far more than just a planted place. It is a touchstone; a repository of memories that forms a place of joy in your life. A garden exists not only as part of your backyard landscape, but as a site that resides in your imagination, a collection of personally satisfying images that can be expressed upon your land.</i>"<br />
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Do you remember your favorite outdoor places to be as a child? Are you drawn to enclosures or promontories? What's your personal image of paradise? Moir Messervy guides us through these sorts of questions, showing us how our gardens can reflect our own personal histories and memories, our own personal inspirations. First, though, we have to THINK about these sorts of questions - and then we have to take the answers we've come up with and help them take shape within the parameters of our actual physical space.<br />
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There are so many components we can draw upon to create our own touchstone gardens: color, form, sound, light, plants, geometric vs. natural order, uniformity vs. variety. It's hard to keep track of all of the different possibilities, but Moir Messervy helps us think about each one in turn without dictating what is "right" or "better".<br />
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To a great extent, this book is a combination of psychological concepts and gardening, examining such classic themes as the sacred forest, a classic hut, the need for enclosure, thresholds, bridges, and gateways. Moir Messervy talks about journeys through our gardens, both mental and physical, with starting points, pathways, and destinations. <br />
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"...<i>[P]eople garden in order to make something grow; to interact with
nature; to share, to find sanctuary, to heal, to honor the earth, to
leave a mark. Through gardening, we feel whole as we make our personal
work of art upon our land.</i>"<br />
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<u>The Inward Garden</u> is a book to aid us in making our gardens into true personal works of art upon our own land. With ideas and passions to inspire us, this is a book that gives us a serious look at the kinds of gardens we can to aspire to create. The richness in this book is many layered and it invites us to return for refreshment and new inspiration again and again and again. I highly recommend finding a copy of this classic work and immersing yourself within it. You'll be so glad that you did.Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-51189888005126399822018-10-23T21:51:00.000-07:002018-10-23T21:51:40.905-07:00Book Time: A NEW GARDEN ETHICQuite a few years ago now, I started "talking" with my books by underlining passages that spoke to me and by writing comments in the margins. It was hard to do at first, but once I got over my good-girl habits of keeping my books pristine, I found that it really helps when I go back to a book to review and refresh myself about what it said. Most importantly, doing this provides a conversation to join when I reread the book. I can see what captured my attention originally and compare those ideas to what strikes me now, making my understanding of the book deeper with each reading. Occasionally I've even shared a book with a friend and invited her to comment (in a different color ink), which adds yet another level of interaction with the written words.<br />
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Because of this habit I have of physically talking with my books in written form, one of my easiest "sorts" for which books I want to keep and which ones just need to be passed along is a simple look to see whether or not I've underlined and commented in the book in question. If it wasn't interesting enough to mark up, it's not interesting enough to keep. Maybe someone else needs that book more than I do.<br />
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<u>A New Garden Ethic</u>, by Benjamin Vogt, New Society Publishers, BC Canada, 2017, passed my "Do I keep this?" sorting question with flying colors. It's marked up all over the place. It's marked up so much that my big question for this post is, "How can I possibly do this book justice in a simple, short review of it?"<br />
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As I sat down this afternoon to start thinking about writing this review, I began to thumb through the pages. An entire paragraph highlighted here. Exclamation point there. "Great series of questions...." on one page. Lots of "Wow!" and "Yes!" comments in the margin. Ideas for blog posts. Books to read. More underlining. Asterisks. Occasional notes asking about sources for certain claims. There is so much to digest here that I've become convinced <u>A New Garden Ethic</u> would make a wonderful book for a gardening book club to read and discuss - probably over a long weekend, as a single hour or two wouldn't be nearly long enough.<br />
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One interesting twist to this ecological gardening book is its author, Benjamin Vogt. Dr. Vogt has a PhD, but it's in creative writing, not in biology or ecology or horticulture or landscape architecture or any of the myriad fields that one would normally associate with a book of this nature. That said, prairie and ecological garden design are obviously deep passions for Vogt and he's educated himself accordingly. Coming from a creative background, his writing has a vibrancy that can sometimes be lacking in more scientific tomes.<br />
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I'll be up front, though: to me, Vogt's lack of scientific training shows up rather glaringly here as a lack of citations for some of his specific facts. It is not enough to say Scientist Y did a study in which she found xyz. I want to know where to find that study - what journal was it published in? when and where was the study performed? what were the parameters? I want to be able to delve into some of those studies more closely to see if the findings are being accurately reported in what was written. I may want to use those statistics in something I write, too, but I'm not going to quote statistics without knowing where they come from, even in a simple blog post. A revised edition with this major flaw remedied would strengthen this book significantly, in my opinion.<br />
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Beyond that flaw, though, there's an incredible amount of substance in this book that captures my spirit and that doesn't rely on specific studies or individual facts. Take this wonderful passage that I've seen others pull from the book as a quote, "<i>We live in a world of perfectly spaced plants that mimic headstones aligned in exact intervals. Wood mulch is more important to us than flowers. We clean up our gardens like they are living rooms after the children have gone to bed.</i>" With 3 lines, Vogt has given us several iconic images that capture the lack of real life in so many modern gardens.<br />
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In the first chapter of this book, Vogt gives us a basic framework about what he sees as being right and wrong about most gardens, yards, and natural areas in our current day and age. This framework leads him to a statement of a new garden ethic that he believes we need to live by if we want to have our gardens function as more than just a pretty fashion accessory...and Vogt is compelling as he shows us why we want our gardens to function so richly.<br />
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With native plants being integral to ecological function in any landscape, Chapter 2 is generally a discussion of native plants, their importance, and the pushback against their use in many circles. There's a small, fascinating section on the politics and culture of using native plants: is it "fair" or "democratic" to say that gardeners should only use native plants? "<i>When we step in and impose our ideals of democracy on a landscape, we disrupt and destroy the landscape, altering life processes that have worked long before we created human democracy....</i>" Vogt notes that plant culture should not be mistaken for human culture, that nature and ecosystem function have little to do with patriotism or freedom or other political concepts.<br />
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In the remaining 3 chapters of the book, Vogt discusses a wide variety of topics ranging from cognitive dissonance and the value of anger and hopelessness to the impact of the Enlightenment on where we are today, all with the object of moving us towards developing and being willing to utilize the defiant compassion that he believes we need to bring to our relationship with our landscapes and gardens.<br />
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<u>A New Garden Ethic</u> is a call to action, a call to enrich our own lives and the world immediately around us by connecting deeply to our specific physical environs. By answering this call, Vogt believes we can each help to save the planet's living fabric, one garden at a time. <br />
<br />Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-88982894865333882412018-10-22T21:05:00.000-07:002018-10-22T21:05:30.129-07:00Book Time: THE HUMANE GARDENERAfter running across and deeply enjoying Nancy Lawson's blog, <a href="http://www.humanegardener.com/" target="_blank">Humane Gardener</a>, I was excited when I realized she was writing a book by the same name. The subtitle of her blog is perfect, "Cultivating Compassion for All Creatures Great and Small". Lawson worked for many years as an editor for the Humane Society of the United States - and I think that caring and compassion for ALL animals has seeped into her psyche, based on the writing she shares both on her blog and in her book.<br />
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<u>The Humane Gardener: Nurturing a Backyard Habitat for Wildlife</u>, by Nancy Lawson, Princeton Architectural Press, New York, New York, 2017 is a relatively small book, almost a series of 6 essays rather than a scientific tome or an intense guide of gardening methodologies. Each essay, or chapter, is accompanied by a "portrait" of a real garden and its real gardener, exemplifying the characteristics talked about in the companion chapter. The gardens range from California to Florida, from Ontario to Oregon, with Colorado and the Chicago area filling in the area in the middle.<br />
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More than most gardening books, <u>The Humane Gardener</u> focuses on the animals that are so often collateral damage in modern gardening methods: from the wide variety of small animals that get chopped up, along with the grass, by lawnmowers to the tiny denizens of leaf litter when it's allowed to lie undisturbed under shrubs and perennials. There are a few statistics ("The nestlings of 96 percent of North American terrestrial bird species survive on spiders and insects, mostly caterpillars, who are themselves babies with specialized habitat needs....") but most of the information and advice is given in anecdotal form, which makes it easy to digest.<br />
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In the book's introduction, Lawson remarks that the gardeners she chose to highlight "embody the ethic of compassionate landscaping, challenging long-held assumptions about animals, plants, and themselves." Compassionate landscaping. <i><b>Compassionate landscaping.</b></i> I love that term and the ethic it defines. <u>The Humane Gardener</u> is a great introduction to this ethical concept.<br />
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This ethical concept does not, however, meld well with the perfection-driven standards promoted in most regular garden literature, and Lawson talks about her journey from a mainstream gardener to a compassionate gardener, from being willingly sucked into the "marketing ploys of the Landscaping Industrial Complex" to learning from the plants and animals sharing her yard with her. In her garden portraits, she often talks about the journeys these other gardeners have made, too. <br />
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As a map of a changing journey in gardening, this book is written as a general guide of concepts which can be used across the entire country. Thus there is little talk of specifics: don't look to this book for which particular species to use where or what the best method of performing a particular task is. The overarching ideas Lawson shares are widely adaptable and easily understandable, though.<br />
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The last section of <u>The Humane Gardener</u> is a series of resources you can turn to if you want to get started practicing compassionate landscaping yourself: among them are a couple addresses for excellent blogs, a short list of regional references for wildlife habitat gardening, notes on the individual chapters, and a selected bibliography.<br />
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I greatly enjoyed <u>The Humane Gardener</u> and I would highly recommend it to anyone intrigued by the idea of using compassionate landscaping in their own home environs.Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-2143296290340940632018-10-22T15:39:00.000-07:002018-10-22T15:39:50.455-07:00Book Time: GARDEN REVOLUTIONAs I started thinking about getting ready for holiday guests and Thanksgiving feasts, I realized that I had a pile of books on our dining room table that were there to remind me to write about them. It's a pile that's been slowly but steadily growing for quite some time now - and I was somewhere between shocked and dismayed to realize that, in that pile, I had amassed 6 books with gardening as their theme.<br />
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So I've pulled them out and arranged them in the order that I read them, in the process realizing that one book had been added to the pile without my actually having read it. Oops. Wrong pile. (Yes, sadly, I have many piles of books around the house.) So let me get busy with the first of the remaining 5 books in my dining room table pile.<br />
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Without further ado, here are my thoughts on <u>Garden Revolution</u>, by Larry Weaner and Thomas Christopher, Timber Press, 2016, which I read about a year ago, in November 2017.....<br />
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Subtitled "How our landscapes can be a source of environmental change", <u>Garden Revolution</u> truly amazed me. I've been interested in gardening for and with wildlife for decades now and I have read a lot on the subject. I am deeply interested in the environment and in ecology. Not surprisingly, I've done a lot of hands-on gardening and landscaping for wildlife over the years. Native plants are my "go to" species in planting my yard and its individual gardens. Truthfully, it's rare for me to find a book with a really new spin or a new series of concepts on any of these subjects - but that's exactly the sort of book I found as I delved into <u>Garden Revolution</u>.<br />
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Larry Weaner is a landscape designer who specializes in ecological restoration AND fine garden design. One of his early insights as he worked in garden design was "...a traditional garden is like a beautiful car with no engine. The body is sleek, the interior is plush, and the stereo sounds great, but the owner will always need to push it up the hills with bags of fertilizer, weeding forks, and watering wands." Weaner works WITH nature, in truly amazing ways, to develop beautiful, continually changing, living landscapes.<br />
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Working with nature.... What, exactly, do I mean by that? Before, I've always just meant avoiding pesticides and using native plants, while trying to match the plant species to its preferred growing conditions and hopefully creating habitat for wildlife. Weaner takes it so much further. He pays attention to the seeds found in the "seed bank" that is present in every soil, adds in seeds for species that will help succession move in preferred directions, plants small clumps of wildflowers as seed sources to allow for natural spread, and has many other techniques to nudge natural processes in ways helpful to gardeners and landscapers.<br />
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Presented in large format with lots of photos, <u>Garden Revolution</u> at first gives off a vibe almost like a "coffeetable book", but it's much more than that. There is background information, both historical and biological, presented conversationally so that it doesn't overwhelm. From Weaner's decades of work, there are examples of gardens from large estates to small suburban gardens, discussed in the text as well as illustrated by gorgeous photography.<br />
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Using aggressive native species to outcompete problematic invasive species. Planning and planting for seasonal and successional niches instead of just planting a "once in time" landscape plan. Cutting weeds off just below the surface instead of pulling them out by the roots and disturbing the soil. The new ways of thinking about garden design, preparation, planting, and maintenance just keep coming in this book.<br />
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Want to help nature and our planet's ecosystems in a very basic, personal, and satisfying way? Want to help yourself have a thriving landscape with less work? Want to attract wildlife to your surroundings? Read this book. You'll be glad you did. Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-1974766891297665312018-09-11T19:59:00.000-07:002018-09-11T19:59:06.776-07:00A Tired Time of Year in the Garden: Time to "Tolerate the Uglies"As I look around my garden these days, there are definitely places where it's starting to look worn out and ratty.<br />
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For example, what's the end result of this sight, on August 25th? <br />
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This
sight on September 9th! And LOTS of gulf fritillary butterflies
gracing our yard, too. Just recently a seemingly unpenetrable wall of
green, the passion vine (<i>Passiflora incarnata</i>) is literally skeletal now. All of its leaves - literally ALL of them - have been eaten by gulf fritillary caterpillars (<i>Agraulis vanillae</i>),
leaving nothing but awkward stems with the remnants of a few fruits
hanging on. I'm not worried, though. The passion vine will be back
next spring, as full and pretty as ever.<br />
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Also, did you
notice? The leaves of the vines were beginning to turn yellow by the
end of August anyway. They weren't going to last much longer even if
the caterpillars hadn't been eating them.<br />
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The victim of twin onslaughts - monarch caterpillars and advancing age, the swamp milkweed (<i>Asclepias incarnata</i>)
is looking rather pathetic too. It's a battle to see whether the
caterpillars will eat the leaves first or whether they'll turn yellow
and fall off from the bottom up. (The tall, leggy plants in the photo
above are the swamp milkweed, planted just behind the birdbath basin on
the ground.) It's the legginess and ugliness of this stage of their
life cycle that encourages me to generally plant swamp milkweed in the
back of the border, hopefully behind some "fluffy" lower plants like red
sage (<i>Salvia coccinea</i>) or short species of asters. If you look
closely at the left side of the photo, however, you can see that the
monarchs aren't upset by the state of the milkweed at all. <br />
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There are still many flying in the yard, with females frequently seen laying eggs here and there - even on "ugly" plants. <br />
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Flyr's nemesis (<i>Brickellia cordifolia</i>)
is just about done blooming, so its small, cotton candy pink pom-poms
of flowers are fading into grayish lavender mush. The leaves still look
good, but the stalks have sprawled everywhere, thanks to the weight of
all those beautiful blossoms over the last couple weeks.<br />
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I've
got these few stalks held up with stakes because they were lying flat
on the lawn. Our 3 year old grandson gives a good sense of scale
against these shortest of the Flyr's nemesis stalks. Despite the waning
number of blooms, the monarchs, gulf fritillaries, and little bees are
all still enjoying the Flyr's nemesis immensely. <br />
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Declining in the same way they grew, from the bottom up, the Dr. Seuss flowers of spotted horsemint (<i>Monarda punctata</i>)
are past their prime as well. There are still individual flowers in
the upper bloom clusters, but the bottom clusters are turning brown and
drying out. Like the Flyr's nemesis, the stems have sprawled from the
weight of bountiful blossoms.<br />
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Looking up into the trees, numerous nests of fall webworms (<i>Hyphantria cunea</i>) pockmark the ends of the branches of the pignut hickories (<i>Carya glabra</i>).
I've noticed an increased number of birds like bluejays up in the
canopy since the webworm nests appeared, so I'm guessing that the birds
are having quite a nice, seasonal, tree top feast up there.<br />
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In the front gardens, even the tidy green mounds of the trailing pineland lantana (<i>Lantana depressa</i>) are showing signs of decline, although thankfully you have to look fairly closely to see them. <br />
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Many
leaves have been used as caterpillar food by some sort of leaf rollers
this summer and they have become gray ghosts of themselves. Empty
flower stalks are numerous now, too, although the blossoms still attract
most of the attention, especially from a distance. Luckily, again, the
butterflies, skippers, and other creatures don't seem to mind at all.<br />
<br />
When
I worked the phone line for the Master Gardener office, we'd always get
concerned calls at this time of year, "My plant leaves are looking so
sick. What should I spray on them?"<br />
<br />
My response then was
the same as it is internally to myself now, "It's the end of summer.
The leaves have been working hard all summer and they are tired and worn
out. It's almost time for them to fall, where they will continue
working to make the garden healthier as they decompose into rich
topsoil. Don't spray anything. This is all just part of the natural
cycle of life. Nothing is wrong at all."<br />
<br />
Or, in other
words, it's the time of year to remind ourselves to "tolerate the
uglies" as the seasons begin to change yet again, moving us into the
release of fall and the quiet peace of winter. This, too, shall pass.<br />
<br />
Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-39646790045161087972018-09-09T12:08:00.000-07:002018-09-09T12:08:18.118-07:00Dollarweed - What Good Is It?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS3rsyFctff7aMQBgXxAo6bMc15miPu93vHdheVHz2gzVvYjl-9qbuff5SDA8sTS4KX1rQ3hFYa1Xjrwp3b2iioFi_eCLGymKuQB9mWRTTuRRDcyW9FCjxh3ObpxNHb0ofVXHg/s1600/Dollarweed%252C-7-Sep-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1562" data-original-width="1600" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS3rsyFctff7aMQBgXxAo6bMc15miPu93vHdheVHz2gzVvYjl-9qbuff5SDA8sTS4KX1rQ3hFYa1Xjrwp3b2iioFi_eCLGymKuQB9mWRTTuRRDcyW9FCjxh3ObpxNHb0ofVXHg/s320/Dollarweed%252C-7-Sep-2018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Talk about a plant that everybody loves to hate! Dollarweed (<i>Hydrocotyle sp.</i>) is a native plant, also known as pennywort, that loves to grow in the same conditions that also favor lawn grass: bright sun, plentiful water, low surrounding vegetation. It's hardy and it requires essentially no care. With its single, round, silver dollar sized leaves, it is easily recognizable and it boldly stands out in a mass of linear grass leaves. As such, dollarweed has gained great notoriety - heaven forbid that a non-grass plant disturb the carpet-like splendor of a lawn!<br />
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If you look at dollarweed simply as a plant, however, it's really rather attractive. The bright, shiny green leaves reflect sunlight and are held aloft on pliable, sturdy stems. <br />
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The flowers are umbels of white that are not glamorous, perhaps, but that are quite attractive in a quiet, lacy way.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4AVRIZhFT53ccWvuAl7ggfDPzko0bXxgaXko3MgXd9keU3112s1P9vl8yU2FkacD2UTUg4LcGHumq5ZdxC1LIH177pPXlzKcYTZAJSQi9yHrzPNzzg_7lDI17SQYof23HyfkH/s1600/Dollarweed%252C-flowers%252C-9-Sep-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1242" data-original-width="1236" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4AVRIZhFT53ccWvuAl7ggfDPzko0bXxgaXko3MgXd9keU3112s1P9vl8yU2FkacD2UTUg4LcGHumq5ZdxC1LIH177pPXlzKcYTZAJSQi9yHrzPNzzg_7lDI17SQYof23HyfkH/s320/Dollarweed%252C-flowers%252C-9-Sep-2018.jpg" width="318" /></a></div>
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This photo shows how the umbels open up as they get older.<br />
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This morning, as I took photos, the insects I found on these flowers in a garden bed were tiny ants. Truthfully, I didn't even see the ants until I opened the photos up on my computer screen.<br />
<br />
Perhaps dollarweed's biggest flaw as a garden plant is that it doesn't tend to form solid mats but, instead, prefers to interweave through other plants, refusing to stay neatly in one place. It's also difficult to completely eradicate from a lawn or flower bed with underground rhizomes that break off readily at each node. <br />
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Because it's a native plant, I've wondered how dollarweed fits into the ecosystem here, but I haven't taken the time to really study it. All I've noticed on the plant in my yard is an occasional leaf miner. I'm not sure what insect is doing this particular leaf mining - the larva of a fly? of a moth? of a sawfly? of a beetle? Any of these different types on insects have certain species whose larvae are leaf miners, feeding on the leaf tissue between the upper and lower surfaces of leaves.<br />
<br />
A couple weeks ago, I noticed a closeup photo of the bloom of dollarweed on Instagram. Responding to the photo, which was identified only by the scientific name, presumably to minimize automatic knee-jerk negative responses, I commented on my interest about how this plant worked in the ecosystem. The poster replied back with a list of Hymenopterans (bees, ants, and wasps) that had been observed by scientists in 2015 on dollarweed flowers at Archbold Biological Station here in Florida. (See note below.)<br />
<br />
Here's the list "floridaplants" sent, comprised of 10 solitary wasps and one native bee. As you scan it, be sure to note the prey that these wasps use for feeding their young: orb weaver spiders, beetles, flies, leafhoppers or planthoppers, leafhoppers, flies, flies, flies, moth caterpillars, and moth caterpillars.<br />
<br />
<i>Episyron conterminus posterus </i>- a spider wasp specializing in orb weavers to provision their nests<br />
<i>Cerceris blakei </i>- a digger wasp that provisions its nest with beetles<br />
<i>Ectemnius rufipes ais</i> - a square-headed wasp that nests in dead wood, provisioning its nest with flies<br />
<i>Epinysson melippes</i> - a solitary wasp that provisions its nest with leafhoppers or planthoppers<br />
<i>Hoplisoides dentriculatus dentriculatus</i> - a sand wasp that provisions its nest with leafhoppers<br />
<i>Oxybelus emarginatus</i> - a prong-backed flyhunter wasp that provisions its nest with flies<br />
<i>Tachysphex apicaulis</i> - a square-headed wasp that provisions its nest with flies<br />
<i>Tachysphex similis</i> - a square-headed wasp that provisions its nest with flies <br />
<i>Leptochilus acolhuus </i>- a mason wasp provisioning its nest with moth caterpillars<br />
<i>Parancistrocerus salcularis rufulus</i> - a mason wasp provisioning its nest with moth caterpillars<br />
<i>Halictus poeyi</i> - Poey's Furrow Bee, a small native bee in the sweat bee family that provisions its nest with nectar and pollen<br />
<br />
Wouldn't it be great to get some free, round-the-clock pest control in your gardens? Especially pest control that specializes in controlling some of the insects above without, at the same time, killing praying mantids, honeybees, or monarch butterflies? <br />
<br />
Well, you can have exactly that sort of pest control - IF you leave dollarweed and other small, flowering plants alone in your lawn, instead of treating them like public enemy #1. In fact, this sort of situation is why Greg and I don't use chemicals on our lawn. If it grows low, is generally green, and can be mowed, we let it be. Because of their relationships with native pollinators, I prefer to have native plants as weeds in my grass - rustweed and some of the sedges, for example, as well as dollarweed - but it's almost impossible to have native broadleafed plants without also having non-natives, so we "live and let live". <br />
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<br />
The only one of the insects in the list above that I've knowingly observed in my yard is the native bee, <i>Halictus poeyi</i>, Poey's Furrow Bee, shown in the photo above on Gaillardia and <a href="https://bugguide.net/node/view/1534905" target="_blank">identified on BugGuide.net</a>. Coincidentally, it's the only one of
the insects on the Archbold Biological Station's list with a common name. That doesn't mean the wasps aren't an important part of the natural web of nature, too, it just means that people haven't paid a lot of attention to them. They're generally small. They're not very colorful. They don't bother people. Until recently, it's simply that nobody has paid much attention to them. Generally, scientists often don't know which species, exactly, each wasp specializes in utilizing as prey for food for its larvae.<br /><br />
What a shame that we've ignored these important parts of the ecosystems in our yards and gardens...but what an interesting chance for everyday gardeners to help restore the balance of nature. Literally as well as figuratively. Best of all, this ability to help restore Earth's ecosystems is as easy as refraining from using chemicals on our lawns. Seems like a no-brainer to me.<br />
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_________________ <br />
Note: According to the Instagram poster "floridaplants", self described as a botanist, this is the list of wasps and bees that were observed nectaring at dollarweed, <i>Hydrocotyle umbellatus</i>,
at Archbold Biological Station in Florida. The scientific paper (?) is
Deyrup, M.A. and M.D. 2015. Database of observations of Hymenoptera
visitations to flowers of plants on Archbold Biological Station,
Florida, USA. Unfortunately I haven't been able to get a copy of this
database online, so I'm going out on a limb here and assuming the
information is accurate. After all, it's not like many people have the
interest or ability to make up a list of scientific names like this.<br />
<br />Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-13169828755169922062018-08-17T20:28:00.001-07:002018-08-17T20:28:29.589-07:00Monarch Caterpillars, Chrysallises, and Wasps: Sometimes Things Go WrongTwo days ago, as I came back into the house after dumping my coffee grounds in the garden, I noticed a small black and white wasp sitting on top of something on the swamp milkweed. Looking closer, I saw what I thought was a discolored monarch caterpillar, about the size of a 2nd or 3rd instar. "Damn. Oh, well, her babies have to eat, too," I thought to myself.<br />
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Of course I grabbed my camera to capture some photos, but it was early morning and the humidity was high, so I was only able to take a couple frames before the lens fogged up and became too opaque for me to continue. By the time the lens cleared, the wasp with her payload had disappeared.<br />
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Well, my garden is definitely a place for nature to "do its thing", so I made no attempt to intervene. In the late afternoon, I noticed what looked like the same female wasp working at the entrance to a hollow tube in my bee house which is above and behind the swamp milkweed. Obviously that was where her nest was.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU7YYjE2BBECvBBANBqz9RGU2THv1_44pxL93bIt9FeugWONWnss06l37ldMI3xwtraAR-ymZgDhSrqyMDdH3roLIkmrGI5QqefLp-TLSiDbAopA0IeB1I5vCoLCgphqpnSEWT/s1600/Mason-wasp-with-cat%252C-15-Aug-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1182" data-original-width="1194" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU7YYjE2BBECvBBANBqz9RGU2THv1_44pxL93bIt9FeugWONWnss06l37ldMI3xwtraAR-ymZgDhSrqyMDdH3roLIkmrGI5QqefLp-TLSiDbAopA0IeB1I5vCoLCgphqpnSEWT/s320/Mason-wasp-with-cat%252C-15-Aug-2018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
When I downloaded my photos, I was relieved to see that the caterpillar the little wasp had was NOT a monarch caterpillar. If I had to guess, I'd say it was a cutworm of some sort, actually. Much as I love insects, that's not a caterpillar I'm sorry to see feed some baby wasps.<br />
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Yesterday, when I went back out to take photos, the nest tube this little wasp was working on had been completely closed off. It's the right hand tube near the center of this photo. Inside it, I am sure that a wasp egg is developing into a larva that will use this hapless caterpillar to create the next generation of mason wasps. As horrific as that seems in one sense, at the same time it seems pretty amazing.<br />
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I see these little wasps hunting in my gardens frequently. It would be fascinating to know how many caterpillars they remove over the course of each growing season - and what species get "harvested".<br />
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In other caterpillar news, I was thrilled a few days ago to notice a monarch cat hanging upside down in the classic "J" position as it started the transition from caterpillar to pupa/chrysalis. Because we've been watching Youtube videos about metamorphosis, I carefully pointed it out to our oldest grandson, Connor, who is 3.<br />
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We were both ecstatic to see that the caterpillar had completed its change the next morning...<br />
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...but by the following day, I began to suspect that something was seriously wrong.<br />
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Two days after it had formed, I removed the remnants of the chrysalis, as well as the leaf it was attached to, fearing for bacterial contamination. It was probably too little, too late, but I figured it was worth a try to keep further contamination from spreading to other monarch caterpillars in the area.<br />
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Does anyone with more specialized knowledge of monarch/butterfly metamorphosis know more precisely what caused the demise of this pupating monarch? <br />
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Once again, as with bird nests, if I find it, I'm beginning to assume that the chrysalis/pupa is not likely to have a positive outcome. Sometimes I have to be content with letting exciting events happen "off stage" in the garden. If the result is more baby birds and more adult butterflies, then it's all good and my curiosity will just have to go unsatisfied. Thank goodness for Youtube videos!<br />
<br />Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-44800301391005005692018-08-12T21:08:00.000-07:002018-08-12T21:08:01.384-07:00BugGuide for the Win!A big thank you and shout out to the folks at <a href="http://bugguide.net/">BugGuide.net</a> for their help in identifying so many of the little beasties that I see in my yard and gardens! <br />
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Last week was a perfect case in point. I saw a large black bee nectaring on swamp milkweed from my kitchen window and I grabbed the camera to get a few photographs. This insect was new to me, but it reminded me of a bee that had been recently talked about and shared in a Facebook group about pollinators. So I looked up the two-spotted longhorned bee, the species in question, and it looked good...but maybe just a little different from what I was seeing. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw7oOu9too_XbVwKy8rxH-SZn67UQT0M0TXTzzuLw0dYaSysaUAsvk7Q3LaNS2v7C4BMiC3lzeHjz9RfJi0ajsMj_AWe2d0ZY3RN0P28tWVhjWcUVZgcUZY3VzKELb9otZPZ4R/s1600/Southern+Carpenter+Bee%252C+6+Aug+2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1006" data-original-width="1308" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw7oOu9too_XbVwKy8rxH-SZn67UQT0M0TXTzzuLw0dYaSysaUAsvk7Q3LaNS2v7C4BMiC3lzeHjz9RfJi0ajsMj_AWe2d0ZY3RN0P28tWVhjWcUVZgcUZY3VzKELb9otZPZ4R/s320/Southern+Carpenter+Bee%252C+6+Aug+2018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The abdominal spots were smaller in my individual than in many of the photos of the two-spotted longhorned bee in BugGuide and the long hairs on the legs of my individual were dark, not light, but otherwise it looked like a reasonably good match. There are really a limited number of large black bees it could have been, excluding bumble bees, which this wasn't. So I tentatively identified my photos and submitted them as an ID request.<br />
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Within a day, Dr. John Ascher had identified my specimen as a southern carpenter bee (<i>Xylocopa micans</i>), a species that I was totally unfamiliar with and had never even considered. I actually thought that the eastern carpenter bee (<i>Xylocopa virginica</i>) was the only large carpenter bee in our area so I hadn't thought to look more closely at carpenter bees.<br />
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According to the brief research I did, there is not much known about the life cycle of the southern carpenter bee. <a href="http://entnemdept.ufl.edu/creatures/misc/bees/xylocopa.htm" target="_blank">A fact sheet from the University of Florida </a>reports that the only nests that have been reported were in small branches of Ligustrum (1958) and red maple (1975), about 1-1.5 m above the ground. Apparently this species is NOT an economic problem, as the eastern carpenter bee can be.<br />
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Was this an earth shattering identification? No. But the only other way I know to really identify many of the insects I photograph, including this one, would be to catch them and kill them, then look at them under magnification, using keys. While that is certainly the classic way to deal with insect identification, I am gardening on less than 0.4 acre in the middle of a suburban development where new assaults seem to occur daily against the wildlife present. Trees and shrubs are cut down and replaced with chemical-soaked lawn. What flowers there are come from the big box stores which, around here, means they are full of neonic pesticides. There are far more non-native plants than natives in everyone's yards, providing little food for native insects and other animals. Often I only see one individual of a species in my yard - and, if I collected it to identify it, I might have just kept that species from keeping a toehold around here. For example, I have not, to my knowledge, seen a southern carpenter bee here in the 3 years we've lived here - and I haven't seen another one since I saw this individual a week ago.<br />
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Why do I find it so important to know what the various insects are in my yard and gardens? I ask myself that question on a pretty regular basis, wondering if I'm wasting everyone's time, including my own. Then I identify a new species and learn about it, finding out that I have...<br />
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... a wasp species (<i>Prionyx parkeri</i>) that controls short-horned grasshopper populations and pollinates flowers...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZpJ6s01bVK4s1IzAa7CR_95GMkQJs5gNZzFocivjUvzZnhSo8xbYK23L-4oe5LFu2pspPWrNJsIP-r4kXpXw6BrWeppT-NNZJMxhP7M4foFsWsFFPeV9vBzGPlPHSwr1sjpiT/s1600/Tiger+Bee+Fly%252C+22+Jun+2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="706" data-original-width="794" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZpJ6s01bVK4s1IzAa7CR_95GMkQJs5gNZzFocivjUvzZnhSo8xbYK23L-4oe5LFu2pspPWrNJsIP-r4kXpXw6BrWeppT-NNZJMxhP7M4foFsWsFFPeV9vBzGPlPHSwr1sjpiT/s320/Tiger+Bee+Fly%252C+22+Jun+2018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
... or a fly species, tiger bee fly (<i>Xenox tigrinus</i>), that parasitizes carpenter bees and balances their populations...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj66Mfl9YeSH79UrlUWPL7A_9h0XD-OLNGIXwqU9fNJNot3mVfSN7aGqVbPg-jMOITBOvU65SwkqwtuFvs7hGlhoZYECePVwD_mPdRt_XQx8_ypFFKOHOnF3xNSsDrtlx09_Lp8/s1600/Syrphid-fly-larvae-on-milkweed%252C-10-Aug-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1160" data-original-width="1072" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj66Mfl9YeSH79UrlUWPL7A_9h0XD-OLNGIXwqU9fNJNot3mVfSN7aGqVbPg-jMOITBOvU65SwkqwtuFvs7hGlhoZYECePVwD_mPdRt_XQx8_ypFFKOHOnF3xNSsDrtlx09_Lp8/s320/Syrphid-fly-larvae-on-milkweed%252C-10-Aug-2018.jpg" width="295" /></a></div>
... or yet another syrphid fly whose larvae eats aphids. (The syrphid fly larva is the large, brown and white blob on the milkweed stem, surrounded by its food, oleander aphids.)<br />
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The complex web of relationships in even my basic little gardens truly astounds me, and I learn so much by identifying the different species and researching a bit about their life cycles and feeding habits. I try to share that information with others, too, hoping to encourage fellow gardeners to just relax and let Mother Nature keep the balance in their yards instead of pulling out the poisons to "keep everything under control".<br />
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In fact, thanks in great part to the insect identification help I've received from BugGuide, I've come to think that human "control" is highly over-rated and much more likely to do harm than good, especially in a garden. What insects are YOU seeing in your garden, and what are you learning about the balance of nature all around you? Have you dared to go chemical free yet?Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-89347596977983927542018-08-12T15:12:00.000-07:002018-08-12T15:12:10.862-07:00Milkweed Signals?Watching for caterpillars as closely as I've been doing this summer, I noticed an odd phenomenon on the milkweeds about a week ago.<br />
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As of August 5th, last Sunday, I had not seen a single milkweed bug, large or small, on any of my milkweed plants this summer. At midday, I was out in the backyard, photographing insects and flowers like the swamp milkweed above, when I noticed something reddish flying in the middle of the backyard. <br />
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Chasing it down, I saw that it was a large milkweed bug (<i>Oncopeltus fasciatus</i>) which had landed on a small yaupon bush (<i>Ilex vomitoria</i>). Note: I apologize for the quality of this photo, but it's the only one I took at the time.<br />
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The next morning, August 6th, when I got up, there were probably a dozen large milkweed bugs on my swamp milkweed plants, primarily on the blooms. Many were in the process of creating the next generation of large milkweed bugs.<br />
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In the space of 24 hours, my yard went from absolutely no milkweed bugs to a single large milkweed bug to a dozen or more large milkweed bugs. The numbers have continued to increase over the week.<br />
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Where did they all come from? No one else I see around the neighborhood has milkweed plants and there is little "wild space" nearby.<br />
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What brought them all in at essentially the same time? The swamp milkweed had been blooming for over a week at that point, the tropical milkweed for weeks, and the butterfly milkweed for months, so why August 5th-6th? Why that day specifically?<br />
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I have no answers to these questions, but it's a fascinating little mystery to me. Sometimes it seems like the more I learn, the less I know.Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-62603451002007959242018-08-11T19:42:00.001-07:002018-08-11T19:42:26.635-07:00Tolerate the Uglies!!!After carefully watching my larval plants for several months (which felt like years!), I'm finally seeing caterpillars on them. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCRS2Ea7Q10C1gPLoHbf71KHYLQXBFzlFQ33tkZhoQLWY5KxmJz5FOtKOMKyCVEmRGn9Nj23wXSK1ZX8lgUUUPYXKUlHJ89PiXyfNO6-iShdHRCY1XxZnTHflpY663N3nZedca/s1600/Monarch-cat%252C-8-Aug-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1279" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCRS2Ea7Q10C1gPLoHbf71KHYLQXBFzlFQ33tkZhoQLWY5KxmJz5FOtKOMKyCVEmRGn9Nj23wXSK1ZX8lgUUUPYXKUlHJ89PiXyfNO6-iShdHRCY1XxZnTHflpY663N3nZedca/s400/Monarch-cat%252C-8-Aug-2018.jpg" width="318" /></a></div>
There are monarch caterpillars on the milkweed,<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0kHewbqYekhHQiFW4vQK_aa2QE5MHGE54hNFUhDQe0zbqrWpG9D4s5j19S34TlCLgQXbLkK1tykYUP_1k1L-hwZ2OnZc2rrzQHHeU2Bm4trfHA3dnJPYBp3TB5s1onBO2yMpl/s1600/Black-swallowtail-cat%252C-10-Aug-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1167" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0kHewbqYekhHQiFW4vQK_aa2QE5MHGE54hNFUhDQe0zbqrWpG9D4s5j19S34TlCLgQXbLkK1tykYUP_1k1L-hwZ2OnZc2rrzQHHeU2Bm4trfHA3dnJPYBp3TB5s1onBO2yMpl/s320/Black-swallowtail-cat%252C-10-Aug-2018.jpg" width="233" /></a></div>
black swallowtail caterpillars on the parsley,<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUBjorxmZAZ3rUHubBx9UeF0J4sJENhPilVBEGdexQTYsX6jzopd-SfwCncVnzlH-R5kRrlF1MSYlv8TV7Fpea91AqeZtICJ6oWOWqPIdqDBoKUFTM4YEU1BvTlNvmt1lDabf3/s1600/Fritillary-cats%252C-10-Aug-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1290" data-original-width="1600" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUBjorxmZAZ3rUHubBx9UeF0J4sJENhPilVBEGdexQTYsX6jzopd-SfwCncVnzlH-R5kRrlF1MSYlv8TV7Fpea91AqeZtICJ6oWOWqPIdqDBoKUFTM4YEU1BvTlNvmt1lDabf3/s400/Fritillary-cats%252C-10-Aug-2018.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
gulf fritillary caterpillars on the maypop vines,<br />
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and - based on the foliage - probably phaon crescent caterpillars on the fogfruit. <br />
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YEAH!!! My plants are starting to get ugly! They are making butterflies!!!<br />
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As much as I love seeing the caterpillars, though, I find that I do cringe at how ragged my plants start to look at this point of the summer. Not only is the heat taking a toll, the plants are so large that any dry spells can cause wilting and brown edges, even partial leaf drop. By the time the caterpillars show up and start eating the leaves, the plants can start looking like I should yank them out of the garden at the first possible moment.<br />
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Of course I don't pull them out. I chose and planted these plants especially as butterfly food. Why would I pull them out just as they are starting to actually produce butterflies? Even if I do "mentally hear" my neighbors gossiping about how ragged my garden is looking these days.<br />
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Honestly, couldn't these plants be a little NEATER and PRETTIER while they go through this stage of their life cycle?!<br />
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My own phrase for this is <b><span style="font-size: large;">"Tolerate the uglies!"</span></b> Benjamin Vogt of Monarch Gardens shares the same concept with his phrase of "Redefine pretty." In a world saturated with television ads showing happy, beautiful people in manicured yards that don't have a single tattered leaf or brown spot in the lawn, it feels subversive to allow caterpillars to actually eat the leaves on your plants. Seriously, shouldn't this be done behind closed doors, people?!<br />
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To be even more subversive, this summer I've noticed that my monarch caterpillars seemed to purposefully deflower the milkweed they are feeding upon. <br />
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First, mama monarch laid quite a few eggs underneath flower bud clusters, so the caterpillars have been eating the flowers and buds from the moment they hatched.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOiofzLxfjq_oO5xOWZowMv85eHzOR-cvYAQiC_rTWDbMLAqGCXzq1VSjBuzP7egXJLg_ZguP7dD0W01HUBpaFTyDTHY512Yk3OvltiDqXT0ekH_dErv-Nrql1W5MPXxY6sX6J/s1600/Monarch-cutting-flower-stem%252C-.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1259" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOiofzLxfjq_oO5xOWZowMv85eHzOR-cvYAQiC_rTWDbMLAqGCXzq1VSjBuzP7egXJLg_ZguP7dD0W01HUBpaFTyDTHY512Yk3OvltiDqXT0ekH_dErv-Nrql1W5MPXxY6sX6J/s400/Monarch-cutting-flower-stem%252C-.jpg" width="313" /></a></div>
Secondly, as the caterpillars reached one of their later, larger instars, I noticed that 3 of them had cut the stem of the entire flower cluster partway through, resulting in the entire bloom head hanging upside down and dying. Seriously, what's up with that?! The only thing I can figure out is that, evolutionarily, this decreases the chances of parasites being attracted to the plant for nectar and thereby finding the caterpillar(s) nearby to host their offspring on. I've never heard of this as a "thing" before, though, so I don't know if my imagination is just running away with me - or if, maybe, I'm on to something. Any monarch researchers out there that might want to look into this idea?<br />
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Along the same lines, is it coincidence that the eggs were laid shortly after the buds started opening and the plants started blooming? Evolutionarily, could it be that so many eggs were laid on these newly opening flower buds to decrease the overall numbers of blooms, decreasing the seed production, and thus moving the plant energies into leaf production, thereby providing more food for more baby monarchs?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHtkzS0BT0HN9ItjpSe2IfzrR-14Vcj9qjWJwSBiluVWcKQ0kFaOQ1eeqQ6EyoFBjgzO9m1l-NaPOSTtBJY9Vhc1-zzi_48YM5bh5Xr92PORfVC12tszwDs6SECvdavqvh0XD0/s1600/Monarch-cat-and-milkweed-bugs%252C-6-Aug-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1045" data-original-width="1600" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHtkzS0BT0HN9ItjpSe2IfzrR-14Vcj9qjWJwSBiluVWcKQ0kFaOQ1eeqQ6EyoFBjgzO9m1l-NaPOSTtBJY9Vhc1-zzi_48YM5bh5Xr92PORfVC12tszwDs6SECvdavqvh0XD0/s400/Monarch-cat-and-milkweed-bugs%252C-6-Aug-2018.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Or is this egg placement just a way to hide the caterpillars until they get a little bigger and less attractive to wasps and other caterpillar parasites who might not care that they don't taste good? See how well that monarch caterpillar is hidden?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmeqbL5tL2uvDzowF2byvZlHwe5-1FjhLJBNw4_NWrqFCOGR3vV4WuIsXIq_UFQGL2MrYVTgJqp8I-vNStgMFJ71SMh5dzVaEVGb-l1eabC86WEjoyMwwLS3mAUgGNIe9Sm-lj/s1600/Monarch-cat-and-milkweed-bugs%252C-closer%252C-6-Aug-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1462" data-original-width="1600" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmeqbL5tL2uvDzowF2byvZlHwe5-1FjhLJBNw4_NWrqFCOGR3vV4WuIsXIq_UFQGL2MrYVTgJqp8I-vNStgMFJ71SMh5dzVaEVGb-l1eabC86WEjoyMwwLS3mAUgGNIe9Sm-lj/s320/Monarch-cat-and-milkweed-bugs%252C-closer%252C-6-Aug-2018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Can you see it now???<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Kcgp_tfdo2TnOIXMRKdpRE73fq5If3JkcCLm9_9kVMPfyK3_WUMUreh1gImqpk-mGSVKa9Z7R_r4TQe3FDqpEUT4L_BBmALF5Fkq7XRxfMM5uZGYlE4-mRHrN2yYLi-BvUt-/s1600/Monarch-cat-and-milkweed-bug%252C-closest%252C-6-Aug-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="953" data-original-width="1149" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Kcgp_tfdo2TnOIXMRKdpRE73fq5If3JkcCLm9_9kVMPfyK3_WUMUreh1gImqpk-mGSVKa9Z7R_r4TQe3FDqpEUT4L_BBmALF5Fkq7XRxfMM5uZGYlE4-mRHrN2yYLi-BvUt-/s320/Monarch-cat-and-milkweed-bug%252C-closest%252C-6-Aug-2018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
How about now? Pretty safe hiding place, isn't it?<br />
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WHY the timing and placement for egg laying? Coincidence or evolutionary plan? Inquiring minds want to know.<br />
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While I contemplate these possibilities, I meander my garden enjoying the new life chomping hungrily on my plants and try not to cringe at the blooms being cut short and the leaves disappearing in the process. Life is a balance - and never more so than in a garden.Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-62522817966947994792018-08-01T18:44:00.002-07:002018-08-01T18:44:57.472-07:00A Recent Cast of Characters in My Gardens: Pollinators and PredatorsWith the initiation of several days of rain, it seems like a good time to share a few garden photos from the plethora I've taken over the last few weeks. Since I'm obsessed with pollinators and other wildlife, that's what I'll generally be showing you!<br />
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Gaillardia (<i>Gaillardia pulchella</i>) brings in a lot of insect activity. I have several pots of gaillardia on our back patio, as well as a few plants along the street by our mailbox. Not surprisingly, most of my photos are from the plants I see most often - the ones near my back door.<br />
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This is a lousy photo, but I wanted to share the single bumble bee (<i>Bombus</i> sp.) I've seen in my gardens so far this summer. Gaillardia is the ONLY flower I've seen her on so far.<br />
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A female monarch (<i>Danaus plexippus</i>) finally visited the yard for several days last week and she left several eggs behind. Here's she's ovipositing on a swamp milkweed (<i>Asclepias incarnata</i>) I planted a couple months ago. I'm a "survival of the fittest" biologist, so I don't collect the eggs and raise the caterpillars inside; I'm waiting to see if I see any caterpillars - this photo was taken on the 28th, so there should be a couple tiny babies out there munching away, but I haven't gone looking yet. (Update: my grandson and I went out in the rain this afternoon and found at least 3 tiny new monarch caterpillars! Yeah!)<br />
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Ms. Blue Dasher (<i>Pachydiplax longipennis</i>) here isn't a pollinator, but I love welcoming her and her relatives into the yard. Every mosquito this mosquito hawk eats is a mosquito that doesn't bite me! Aren't her eyes particularly gorgeous? The body of the male blue dasher is a beautiful powdery blue, but I've been seeing almost exclusively females lately.<br />
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This green treefrog (<i>Hyla cinerea</i>) seems to have decided that the outside corner of our gutter near the bright lights of the kitchen window makes a perfect home. Over the past week, I've been seeing her (him?) frequently within just a few inches of this location. Note: nothing like a closeup photo to let you know the house badly needs a power washing!<br />
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Out front, the newly planted sweet pepperbush (<i>Clethra alnifolia</i>) has excited a lot of pollinator interest. I shared the <a href="http://gaiagarden.blogspot.com/2018/07/this-week-in-pest-controlling-and.html" target="_blank">potter wasp and the 4 spotted scarab hunter</a> wasp I've seen nectaring here in my recent post; this is a carpenter-mimic leaf-cutter bee (<i>Megachile xylocopoides</i>) who also has seemed to enjoy the blooms. <br />
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The deep velvet black of this bee's body and the iridescent blue-black of its wings are just stunning. I wonder if this is the species that has been harvesting circles of dogwood leaves to make their nest cells waterproof?<br />
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Another little green treefrog was tucked away inside a Flyr's nemesis (<i>Brickellia cordifolia</i>), hoping against hope that I didn't actually see him as I looked around. I let him pretend that I hadn't noticed him.....<br />
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With the spotted beebalm (<i>Monarda punctata</i>) beginning to bloom, I'm starting to see a little more activity in that section of the garden, including this small green anole (<i>Anolis carolinensis</i>). I'm still not seeing many insects attracted to the spotted beebalm blossoms, but I did see a hummingbird feeding - even though I didn't have my camera with me so I could visually share with you.<br />
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Back to the anole for a moment, I've been seeing many tiny little green anoles for the last several
weeks, which just makes me smile. Obviously it's been a good year for
anole love!<br />
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Another recent dragonfly visitor was the great blue skimmer (<i>Libellula vibrans</i>), who perched on top of the poles in our tomato pots for a while - and was lucky enough (and good enough) to capture a passing moth shortly after I took the top photo. Those big, black-spotted blue eyes aren't just for show!<br />
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Out front, enjoying the turkey tangle fogfruit (<i>Phyla nodiflora</i>), there's been the phaon crescent (<i>Phyciodes phaon</i>), nectaring - and possibly laying eggs, since fogfruit is their larval plant. Note: I don't know if this individual is a male or female.<br />
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The fogfruit has also attracted many other insects, including a female blue dasher dragonfly, a carpenter-mimic leaf-cutter bee, several different species of wasps, bees, and flies. In fact, the fogfruit is active enough that it's probably worth a post just by itself. I just wish it looked a little more "gardeny"....<br />
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Anoles have been out in the front gardens as well as in the back. Here was one haunting a summer phlox (<i>Phlox paniculata</i>) blossom. Sometimes I wonder if I don't see huge numbers of pollinators because I DO see lots and lots of predators around the blooms - and I'm sure it's not a coincidence that they are hanging out there!<br />
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Speaking of predators, whether nymphs (like this one) or adults, I'm seeing quite a few milkweed assassin bugs (<i>Zelus longipes</i>) this summer. I thought they were so-named because they were part of the milkweed community, but recent reading suggests their name comes from their coloration. I've certainly seen them on many, many plants, not just on milkweed.<br />
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The clustered mountain mint (<i>Pycnanthemum muticum</i>) in the back yard has brought in quite a few unusual (for my garden) pollinators. Besides several wasp species, there is this grapeleaf skeletonizer moth (<i>Harrisina americana</i>) which has both a common name and a color pattern that make it a perfect Halloween animal.<br />
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Believe it or not, this small, colorful, Halloween themed moth, also nectaring on the mountain mint, is from the a group of moths known as bird dropping moths. Yes, that's an actual common name for moths in the subfamily Acontiinae . This moth goes by the hard-to-remember name of black-dotted spragueia moth (<i>Spragueia onagrus</i>) and is an animal I've never seen before in my life. Kudos to the helpful folks at BugGuide.net for helping me identify this one!<br />
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Lacewing larvae, looking for all the world like prehistoric monsters or like some less glittery version of Tamatoa, the Crab, on <u>Moana</u>, are hard to see unless you look closely, but they are great allies in garden pest control. This photo is blurry (the entire "mound" is barely 1/4" across and I wasn't using a tripod) but, if you look carefully, you can see the huge jaws under the front edge as well as a wing from one of its dinners right above the jaws.<br />
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In all, this lineup of characters from my garden highlights 6 garden predators (green anole, green treefrog, milkweed assassin bug, lacewing larva, blue dasher dragonfly, great blue skimmer dragonfly) and 6 pollinators (monarch, bumblebee, carpenter-mimic leaf-cutter bee, phaon crescent butterfly, grapevine skeletonizer moth, and black-spotted spragueia moth). During the 10 days that I photographed these animals, I saw many other animals, too. Some, like the 5 species of wasps that I talked about in my last post, I've shared with you. Others, like bluebirds, cardinals, bluejays, gray squirrels, chickadees, tufted titmice, house finch, mockingbirds, red-shouldered hawk, brown skinks, southern toads, and Eastern box turtle, I haven't shared.<br />
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How can anyone be happy with a statically "pretty" landscape, when a garden filled with wildlife changes minute by minute?! I love the surprise of going out into my yard and meeting a new insect neighbor. I love the pleasure of looking at a flower cluster and realizing that I'm looking into the eyes of a little lizard or camouflaged frog. Each new animal I see adds a layer of richness to the world around me that delights and soothes me. What an honor to be sharing my yard and gardens with all these other forms of life here on Earth.<br />
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<br />Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-72272457876324728012018-07-27T21:02:00.001-07:002018-07-27T21:02:23.809-07:00This Week in Pest-Controlling and Pollinating WaspsWhile I'd love to be seeing more insect life in our yard, I have to admit that I AM seeing some interesting insects - including a few that are totally new to me. So I thought it would be fun to share what I'm seeing as well as the blooms that are bringing them in.<br />
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How to organize this???? By day? By bloom? By type of insect? I'll just have to see what flows best.....<br />
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I started out to make this post an overview of all the pollinators I've seen over the week, but it quickly became apparent that would be overwhelming, so I decided to focus this post just on wasps. <br />
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Wasps have been quite prominent recently, especially solitary wasps. Last Friday, July 20th, was when I first noticed some unusual ones -3 in a row, in fact, over the course of about 10 minutes, on the clustered mountain mint (<i>Pycnanthemum muticum</i>).<br />
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The first was a large scarab hunter wasp that has no common name so I've nicknamed it the<a href="https://bugguide.net/node/view/39369" target="_blank"> fuzzy scarab hunter wasp (<i>Campsomeris plumipes</i>)</a>. Like other scarab hunters, this wasp flies low above the ground, searching for (buried) scarab beetle larvae, a.k.a. beetle grubs. When she finds one, she digs down to it, paralyzes it, lays an egg on it, and flies away. The egg hatches out and the wasp larva consumes the beetle grub. One wasp egg on one beetle grub, so every one of these you see means that a scarab beetle of some sort - say a June bug or green June beetle - didn't make it to adulthood.<br />
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As you can see, the adult wasp actually eats nectar to sustain itself, as is true for most of these solitary wasps. Also as solitary wasps, they are not aggressive and they will not sting unless you actively try to handle them or they get caught in your clothing, stepped on in bare feet, etc. You can assume this is true for all solitary wasps unless someone mentions otherwise. It's a nice change from the more problematic social wasps.<br />
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As an aside, all the solitary wasps I'm familiar with have only one generation each year, so if you take them out (for example, by spraying insecticides), it may be several years before their population numbers can rebuild by migrating in from surrounding areas. Given how well they function as both pollinators and, probably more importantly, as pest control, that would seem to be extremely short sighted to me.<br />
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Back to my magic 10 minutes by the mountain mint, the next insect to fly in, while I was photographing the fuzzy scarab hunter wasp, was the<a href="https://bugguide.net/node/view/414" target="_blank"> great golden digger wasp (<i>Sphex ichneumoneus</i>)</a>. This is a species I've seen before, both here and in Kansas, and I love its fiery color and large size. You just can't mistake this distinctive wasp with its red legs and black-tipped red abdomen for any other species. Look, too, at the golden glow created by the gold hair on its head and thorax. That's something you almost have to take a picture of to appreciate, although I've seen it highlighted occasionally as one of these beauties nectars. <br />
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Another solitary wasp, great golden digger wasps hunt for and paralyze grasshoppers and crickets as food for their larvae. The female digs a burrow in sandy soil, with a central, almost vertical, main burrow and individual cells radiating out from this primary burrow. She places one paralyzed grasshopper or cricket in each cell, lays an egg on it, then seals up the cell.<br />
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As I was finishing up my "photo session" with the great golden digger wasp and taking a few last photos of the fuzzy scarab hunter wasp, I noticed more movement in the air space around the mountain mint - a thread waisted wasp had come in to feed, too. <br />
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This rather bizarre looking wasp not only held its abdomen up at a strange angle as it flew, but the sun caught metallic glimmers of color on its otherwise black body and wings. Researching on BugGuide.net, I identified this species as <a href="https://bugguide.net/node/view/455" target="_blank"><i>Eremnophila aureonotata</i></a>. Again there is no common name, so I've nicknamed it the gold-marked thread-waisted wasp, "aureonotata" meaning "gold-marked" in Latin. This solitary wasp species feeds its larvae on a wide variety of (paralyzed) moth caterpillars, utilizing a burrow in the ground, as far as I can tell.<br />
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So, according to the time stamps on my photos, in just over 10 minutes my mountain mint had nurtured predators working to control beetle grubs, grasshoppers and mole crickets, and moth caterpillars in my gardens. Not too shabby!!! And it didn't cost me a dime beyond the initial cost of a very pretty perennial plant.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwtkfyMdo5W_dqk10vkpQT_w4rN5TglAexvKUmIEZ22aWxAvt9hRCEJKOOpMFlJspLe5AZpdyCwG9qNuMP-0IICeM0EMgfqU1orY9QQRmytSHN_sRxyLoqG_6GcJfAlAmyFOBi/s1600/Potter+Wasp%252C+2%252C+20+Jul+2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="542" data-original-width="501" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwtkfyMdo5W_dqk10vkpQT_w4rN5TglAexvKUmIEZ22aWxAvt9hRCEJKOOpMFlJspLe5AZpdyCwG9qNuMP-0IICeM0EMgfqU1orY9QQRmytSHN_sRxyLoqG_6GcJfAlAmyFOBi/s200/Potter+Wasp%252C+2%252C+20+Jul+2018.jpg" width="184" /></a></div>
I've seen a couple other wasps this week, too. One I've been seeing frequently for several weeks now is less than half the size of the big guys above. It's a cute little black mason wasp with 2 white stripes on its abdomen (<i>Euodynerus</i> sp.). When I grabbed its picture above, I think it was hunting for caterpillars among the ferns. Again, there is no common name for this wasp, so my description above ("cute little black mason wasp") will have to suffice. Mason and potter wasps feed their larvae primarily on moth caterpillars, although some species also use the larvae of leaf-eating beetles. If you see smallish wasps using mud to fill up small holes (for example in brick, where your hurricane shutters have gone up in the past), it may well be one of these mason wasps. They build cells out of mud in hollow tubes, provisioning each cell with a paralyzed caterpillar or beetle larvae on which they lay an egg before closing up the cell and moving on. <br />
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Do you sense a pattern among the solitary wasps here?! They've found a good gig in paralyzing prey to keep it fresh for their young to eat after hatching, then tweaked the process in a myriad of different ways so that each species has its own spin...and ecological niche.<br />
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I've seen these little black and white mason wasps nectaring on blossoms as well as hunting in my gardens. I've found small holes filled with dried mud, which I presume are their nest cells. These are enjoyable little creatures for me to notice as I go out and about weeding, planting, transplanting, watering, and photographing. Just in the last week I have photographs of this species hunting in these ferns, shown above, as well as in camphorweed and in and out of leaves and mulch at the base of phlox and lyreleaf sage. Front yard, back yard. Sun, shade. This little wasp is a "busy bee" in its work habits.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTs-r5pO_nMQwgips19b7i3KSjYphMaapAIeQ2qgu7gZspU6em1C-CtJ9jaxDyHouSDOt-tQyTgZIxM38rtXX71LWahqxjfvPUaHREveIDhCpQHEyPaMfQqGjUp0_td5zsimI3/s1600/Scarab-hunter-wasp-on-maypop%252C-22-Jul-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1550" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTs-r5pO_nMQwgips19b7i3KSjYphMaapAIeQ2qgu7gZspU6em1C-CtJ9jaxDyHouSDOt-tQyTgZIxM38rtXX71LWahqxjfvPUaHREveIDhCpQHEyPaMfQqGjUp0_td5zsimI3/s400/Scarab-hunter-wasp-on-maypop%252C-22-Jul-2018.jpg" width="387" /></a></div>
At the other end of the size spectrum from the cute little mason wasp is the gigantic<a href="https://bugguide.net/node/view/34201" target="_blank"> 4-spotted scarab hunter wasp (<i>Campsomeris quadrimaculata</i>)</a> that I've seen a couple times now. Boy, am I ever glad that these guys aren't at all aggressive, because they are HUGE and they give me pause even though I know they won't bother me. The photo above shows this big black beauty all coated with pollen from nectaring at maypop flowers (<i>Passiflora incarnata</i>).<br />
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Here is a photo I took about 2 weeks ago of a "clean" 4 spotted scarab hunter wasp, nectaring on sweet pepperbush blooms (<i>Clethra alnifolia</i>). See how much pollen the individual nectaring at the passion vine is wearing in comparison?! That's what I call a pollinator!<br />
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For the sake of clarity, again I've made up a nickname for this wasp as, again, it has not been given an official common name. Its specific Latin name, "quadrimaculata", means "4-spotted", while the entire genus is known as scarab hunter wasps, hence the "4-spotted scarab hunter wasp". This is another great predator in the garden, paralyzing and laying eggs in scarab beetle grubs.<br />
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Big and little, I've got wasps sharing my gardens that are making life easier - and much more interesting - for me. I used to hate wasps, but now I smile whenever I see one. I hope you're seeing some great solitary wasps in your gardens, too.<br />
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Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-78259634049018803302018-07-25T18:49:00.001-07:002018-07-25T18:49:51.040-07:00A Passion for Life<blockquote class="tr_bq">
The fragrances of the earth enjoin and<br />
blossom in my nostrils and<br />
sinus -<br />
breath is what we<br />
share with the world.<br />
- Gavin Geoffrey Dillard, <u>Graybeard Abbey</u></blockquote>
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Hmmmm. Seems like a good month to participate in Wildflower Wednesday, but what flower should I pick? <br />
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The spotted beebalm (<i>Monarda punctata</i>) that just started blooming? <br />
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The clustered mountain mint (<i>Pycnanthemum</i> <i>muticum</i>) that has become a new favorite of mine, with its frosty cool garden presence and its outstanding ability to pull in the pollinators - and their predators? <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6IoIzEBGEIqAG8y9YaRhGSLSrFVdkAA4THxNLptnobzBuU6caToPOSZyCQU8NszuWiKmnRt3gCeJO3JP9drlpD6QZaINpEojza02BkcaXZ6HviQY2UGx6eFYa7M5skBzEgwFc/s1600/Fogfruit%252C-20-Jul-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1581" data-original-width="1600" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6IoIzEBGEIqAG8y9YaRhGSLSrFVdkAA4THxNLptnobzBuU6caToPOSZyCQU8NszuWiKmnRt3gCeJO3JP9drlpD6QZaINpEojza02BkcaXZ6HviQY2UGx6eFYa7M5skBzEgwFc/s320/Fogfruit%252C-20-Jul-2018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The turkey tangle fogfruit (<i>Phyla nodiflora</i>) that I concurrently both love and simply dislike?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmz0KiXovKEIAYjD11nmDNyCrrtjPlWWrZcwC2yA5-hg3DCQABxvY8Sr7ZmDhU_rBl1umAj0fUY59VLRSuFBdR54GQBkfOuSevxi0XhLDyDD4wM7r4gSadWHGWuxJpwPfW3yy7/s1600/Elephantopus%252C-23-Jul-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1179" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmz0KiXovKEIAYjD11nmDNyCrrtjPlWWrZcwC2yA5-hg3DCQABxvY8Sr7ZmDhU_rBl1umAj0fUY59VLRSuFBdR54GQBkfOuSevxi0XhLDyDD4wM7r4gSadWHGWuxJpwPfW3yy7/s320/Elephantopus%252C-23-Jul-2018.jpg" width="235" /></a></div>
The Devil's grandmother (<i>Elephantopus tomentosus</i>) that also just started to bloom and which is actually looking like a garden plant this summer since I finally got around to transplanting some into a bed this spring?<br />
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The "Eveready bunny" of my garden, the old sturdy standby Indian blanket (<i>Gaillardia pulchella</i>) that just keeps going and going and going and going?<br />
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The swamp milkweed (<i>Asclepias incarnata</i>) that I'm relying on to attract some monarchs to my gardens one of these days?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt7a_zhJlJN6d1v-smAfLsOjbSpThZwDiGUOBtkHSbr1FwaWVT2kmbM1DgvIputST9mm2O3ctZqEuH9IYOHGWMm28nteBv2ovis_xyKGAuMAWY6n9o7eQEutp-_rKBBCMRhnJQ/s1600/Native-lantana%252C-20-Jul-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1173" data-original-width="1600" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt7a_zhJlJN6d1v-smAfLsOjbSpThZwDiGUOBtkHSbr1FwaWVT2kmbM1DgvIputST9mm2O3ctZqEuH9IYOHGWMm28nteBv2ovis_xyKGAuMAWY6n9o7eQEutp-_rKBBCMRhnJQ/s400/Native-lantana%252C-20-Jul-2018.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
The trailing pineland lantana (<i>Lantana depress</i>a) out by the front sidewalk, with its lemonade colored blossoms covering tidy mounds of vibrantly bright green leaves? <br />
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Nope. Those are all cool and wonderful plants in my gardens, ...<br />
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...but I think I'm going for the maypop this time, a.k.a. passion vine (<i>Passiflora incarnata</i>). Every time I walk down on the deck or dock this summer, the rich fragrance of these impossibly glamorous blossoms startles my senses with its complex allure. Is it possible that the aroma of these blooms has given rise to the name "passion vine"? I know that's not the commonly told history, which involves some rather convoluted symbolism about the "passion of Christ", but passion vine fragrance is every bit as romantic as gardenia to me. This has been the first year that I've really processed how deeply fragrant these flowers are. To my nose, I think the smell of maypop flowers is richer even than that of roses - and I love the fragrance of roses.<br />
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I wish there was a way to put a scratch & sniff app into this blog post.....<br />
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I'm obviously not the only living creature that thinks maypop flowers smell appealing, as I frequently see pollinators on them. These big blooms seem built for BIG pollinators. Recently, for example, I've seen both... <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVIcguIg3negByVUntJ-EBtCE4_GvR8NHKxKQbL4lvJbBPRNJnmGd8Af6JMTWpM1X318RAAtEnUR7gDpetnzQlSwEYiJcbNqjdKs64UMyjhkqRgILkSm8eATi_mCP_Ctu9ZSS/s1600/Carpenter-bee-on-maypop%252C-20-Jul-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1555" data-original-width="1311" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVIcguIg3negByVUntJ-EBtCE4_GvR8NHKxKQbL4lvJbBPRNJnmGd8Af6JMTWpM1X318RAAtEnUR7gDpetnzQlSwEYiJcbNqjdKs64UMyjhkqRgILkSm8eATi_mCP_Ctu9ZSS/s320/Carpenter-bee-on-maypop%252C-20-Jul-2018.jpg" width="269" /></a></div>
carpenter bees (<i>Xylocopa virginica</i>)...<br />
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and this huge scarab hunter wasp (<i>Campsomeris quadrimaculata</i>) acting almost drunk with the richness of the nectar they are drinking. Note that the back and head of this wasp are actually coal black without pollen on them. Yes, this wasp has accidentally gathered THAT MUCH pollen!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBFabFxqPp_7Yq1F_RGcQSZsQ8WkDf4rGLON7aJXmU2pShT9frBXbyGORShHbkOTMqokiRUjqm9IKKoJBYa54PVGWGdia90BW46BoLFy783U6nPBwGaV4V8_OMneycGSJBHfog/s1600/Passion-flower-and-bee%252C-20-Jul-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1467" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBFabFxqPp_7Yq1F_RGcQSZsQ8WkDf4rGLON7aJXmU2pShT9frBXbyGORShHbkOTMqokiRUjqm9IKKoJBYa54PVGWGdia90BW46BoLFy783U6nPBwGaV4V8_OMneycGSJBHfog/s320/Passion-flower-and-bee%252C-20-Jul-2018.jpg" width="293" /></a></div>
As this photo with the blurry carpenter bee shows, there is a horizontal space between the stigmas (curved, long and white with greenish tips) and anthers (yellowish rectangles) and the nectary (reddish purple fuzzy area at the base of the central stalk) that seems expressly designed for such big floral visitors. If you look back at the photos above, you can see how absolutely covered with pollen the backs of these large insects are! A smaller bee or wasp wouldn't be anywhere close to as efficient in transferring pollen as these big guys are.<br />
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A consequence of such efficient pollination is, of course, the production of seeds. In the case of passion vine, the seeds are housed in the passion fruit. For years I've heard that these tennis ball sized fruits are edible, but I've never tried one before because, quite frankly, they just didn't look that appealing to me. I've decided that this year I'm going to be a bit more adventurous. According to the web, the fruits are ripe when they start to turn yellow, get wrinkled, and fall off the vine, so I'm keeping my eyes open. If these fruits taste at all like their fans online say, the taste may rival the fragrance of the flowers.<br />
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Humans, bees, and wasps aren't the only animals that love passion vines. As almost anyone who has planted one knows, gulf fritillaries (<i>Agraulis vanillae</i>) use them as their larval plants and the fritillary caterpillars can quickly reduce a vine to tatters. In fact, during most growing seasons I have to remind myself to "tolerate the uglies" so that my vine(s) can send many more gorgeously glowing, orange, floating "flowers" off into the breezes. Luckily, no matter how thoroughly the passion vines are eaten, they always seem to survive and thrive the following year.<br />
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This year, however, has been different. I saw 4 gulf fritillary caterpillars about 2 months ago, but I haven't seen another one since then...until yesterday. Meanwhile my vines have grown huge, luxurious, almost rampant. As passionvines do, new vines are sprouting up a dozen feet or more from the parent plant in every direction and they are now even starting to impinge on the deck stairs. There are plenty of blossoms and a burgeoning crop of that intriguing fruit is developing. A myriad of flower buds promise ever increasing numbers of blooms still to come. Truth to tell, it's all beginning to get a little over-the-top, but I don't want to cut it back. I'm waiting for the caterpillars to come and do that for me.<br />
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Finally, yesterday, I found 2 little gulf fritillary cats determinedly munching away. Then, this afternoon, another 3 more. Hopefully at least a couple of these tiny orange babies will make it to adulthood, providing some much needed pruning along the way. Meanwhile, I'm joyously sharing the breath of the world with every deep inhalation of that glorious passion vine fragrance.Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-69568744002076595132018-06-07T21:20:00.000-07:002018-06-09T17:02:09.203-07:00The Icon TreeHave you ever read <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Wild-Braid-Reflects-Published-Hardcover/dp/B00HQ1E994/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1528588401&sr=8-2&keywords=the+wild+braid" target="_blank">Stanley Kunitz's <u>The Wild Braid</u></a>? If you haven't, you should. It's a marvelous meditation on the intersection between gardening and poetry, one of those books I like to pull out and dip into every so often. Each time I reread it, I find something new that stands out.<br />
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Several months ago, looking (I think) for references to winter solstice, I pulled <u>The Wild Braid</u> back off my shelf and revisited it. While I didn't find anything that spoke to me about winter solstice, I did find a passage about an old tree in his Provincetown garden that resonated, so I marked the passage to blog about. As I've thought back to that passage over the intervening time, I've remembered his old tree as an aging eyesore that became an "icon tree" in his garden.<br />
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Speaking of aging eyesores, smack dab in the center of our view of the lake, there's a dying laurel oak down by our dock. <br />
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As I went about daily life this winter and spring, occasionally I'd think about the blog post waiting to be written. Somehow our gaunt and decrepit laurel oak merged in my mind with that
dying cherry, tended by Kunitz in his long ago Provincetown garden. I came to think of this laurel oak as <i>our</i> garden's "icon tree".<br />
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Well, 6 months later I'm finally getting around to writing that blog post. I pulled <u>The Wild Braid</u> out of the stack of books by the recliner to refresh my memory by rereading the passage before beginning. Scanning the passages I'd marked, I could find no reference to an "icon tree".<br />
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Puzzled, I went back and looked harder. I'd marked a section about a tree that Kunitz called the lamentation tree (p. 58-61). Could that be the tree I was remembering as the "icon tree"? As I reread the section closely, I decided that it was. Funny how our minds play tricks on us!<br />
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"When we first moved in, there was a wild cherry tree, rather nondescript, growing there in a bed of ivy by the cellar door in front of the house. It was the only tree in the garden areas, and, like most wild cherry trees, it was infested with gypsy moths and all sorts of destructive creatures. ...[T]he tree showed no signs of recovering.... ...[T]he roots were being devoured by root borers...and meanwhile the wild ivy kept growing. ...[S]oon the ivy covered the whole tree and began dangling from it. In time the tree assumed the character of a woman locked in mourning."<br />
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Kunitz goes on to recall Martha Graham and a famous dance she performed called "Lamentation," where the postures of the body contracted and bent to visually personify grief. "Gradually my ivy-burdened cherry tree seemed to take on the exact same posture. It was so bent over with the weight of its grief that it no longer reached toward the sky but toward the earth, and so I named it "The Lamentation Tree."<br />
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After several years, the tree eventually succumbed to the weight of the ivy combined with the force of storm winds. Kunitz wrote, "The lamentation tree was the most conspicuous eccentricity in the garden during those early years. I've always regarded it as an allegory of the capacity for change in nature. That tree changed its character and took on a life of its own, transforming from a wild diseased cherry tree into something else, no longer a tree really, but something emblematic, mythological.<br />
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"Part of the fascination of gardening is that it is, on the one hand, a practical exercise of the human body and, on the other, a direct participation in the ritual of birth and life and death."<br />
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The ritual of birth and life and death..... Something emblematic, mythological.... An eccentricity.<br />
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While I'm not trying to be sacrilegious, there's something in the shape of my gaunt laurel oak that reminds me of a cross...or a scarecrow...or the burning man.<br />
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In April of 2015, before we even bought our house, this was the icon tree.<br />
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About a year later, the top 4-5' or so broke off.<br />
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I kept the broken wood and have it nestled in a bed just a few feet away from the base of the tree.<br />
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There are holes in the remaining snag at the top, one of which I think woodpeckers used to nest in last summer.<br />
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There's no ivy climbing up my icon tree, only a little bit of Spanish moss draping from the few remaining branches. The shape is not bent, but starkly upright, courageously tall despite the continual erosion of its body parts.<br />
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We moved here to celebrate new life - the birth of our
first grandchild - and have since also welcomed his brother into our
lives. Birth and new life, while this stark tree reminds us of death.<br />
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While our icon tree can't actually talk, we've (coincidentally) mounted a sonorous wind chime on it which only sounds in relatively strong breezes, accompanied by clanks of its clapper chain that call to mind Ebenezer Scrooge's chains. Describing it makes it sound lugubrious, but listening to it is peaceful and reassuring.<br />
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Obviously, I've never known this tree as anything but half dead. Truthfully I find it amazing that the tree has survived at all: about 10 years ago, when the seawall and deck were put in along the back of our property, almost half of this poor plant's root system was stripped away when the hill it grew on was sheared off. Then, adding insult to injury, bringing the water line from the house to the deck required trenching through another quarter of its roots down to at least 2'. So our icon tree has lost at least 60-75% of its root system. Any wonder that it's not looking too healthy these days?<br />
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Recently I noticed that there seem to be streaks on the lower bark that look discolored. A fungal disease attacking? How much longer can this survivor hang on?<br />
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Tragically, no matter how much care it receives one way or another, this tree will never again be totally healthy...which makes me think about humans whose support systems are removed from them. How can they be expected to fulfill their potential - ever - if they've been dealt devastating blows or been denied significant support, removing their very roots and the (human psychological) nutrients those roots provide in their lives?<br />
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However compromised this tree is, though, it still hangs tenaciously on to its spot on the side of our hill - and it still provides shelter for other forms of life, like the woodpeckers who have used its dead wood to bring new life of their own into the world. I've known quite a few humans like that, too, and my hat is off to them as they take circumstances that would cripple others and continue to make the world a better place through their presence and their lives. I hope I, too, can take heart and learn life lessons from this gaunt old individual, enduring through adversity. <br />
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<br />Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-11234417683127275172018-06-06T19:20:00.000-07:002018-06-06T19:20:45.636-07:00Color Clash: Where Do I Go From Here?I'm not normally the sort of gardener who obsesses over clashing colors in my flower beds. In fact, I'm rather an "anything goes if I like it" sort of person. However, I find myself being challenged by color clashes in my front yard this spring.<br />
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Specifically, I have a couple plants that I absolutely adore: downy phlox (<i>Phlox pilosa</i>), a beautiful soft purplish pink bloomer that goes from December through June, and Indian pinks (<i>Spigelia marilandica</i>), a graphically spectacular bloom of bright red with yellow highlights. For better or worse, because I love both of them, I planted both of them in my front flower bed...pretty close to each other.<br />
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And they clash. Even to my eye, they clash. (The phlox is on the left, the Indian pinks are on the right, and a Darrow's blueberry is in the middle.)<br />
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I guess I figured that one of them wouldn't do so well, leaving just one for me to enjoy, but they fooled me!<br />
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Now I have a dilemma. Which should I transplant, if either?<br />
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The downy phlox provides great color for months AND it stays low. It blends well with foliage of the Darrow's blueberry subshrubs (<i>Vaccinium darrowii</i>) that are also doing well in that bed and with the spiderwort (<i>Tradescantia ohiensis</i>) and the blue-eyed grass (<i>Sisyrinchium angustifolium</i>) that bloom spectacularly in the front gardens during the spring.<br />
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The Indian pinks bloom for a much shorter period of time than the downy phlox, but I have a special place in my heart for them. I've tried them unsuccessfully in both my Mobile and in my Clearwater, Kansas, gardens, so having them do well here is exciting. Truthfully, I'm a little scared to transplant them and risk watching them wither in a different spot.<br />
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The first time I saw Indian pinks was on a garden tour in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, where they provided a thick, blooming carpet on a shady hillside. I've never forgotten that spectacular sight.<br />
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While the Indian pinks clash with the downy phlox (and truthfully with the Darrow's blueberry too), they look great with the native columbine (<i>Aquilegia canadensis</i>) that seems to have found a happy home in my garden where it has started to seed itself about a bit.<br />
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So far the columbine hasn't seeded itself close to the downy phlox, but it would clash, too, if they grew in close proximity.<br />
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So, fellow gardeners, any thoughts? I won't promise to follow your advice, but I value it nonetheless! Maybe your thoughts will help me clarify my own.....Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-14636977049690691452018-04-30T14:07:00.001-07:002018-04-30T14:07:58.050-07:00Living With Southern MagnoliasA dear friend of ours loves southern magnolias and has tried to grow them in her suburban Chicago yard. She fell in love with the species many years ago when her father grew one in their yard in Wichita, Kansas. Plus, it's a challenge to grow them in Chicago - right?!<br />
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Despite covering the small tree with burlap to protect it from the harsh winters of northern Illinois, there is no young southern magnolia permanently gracing their yard yet. As its name suggests, southern magnolia prefers the south lands.<br />
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Indeed, southern magnolias (<i>Magnolia grandiflora</i>) aren't a challenge to grow here in the Florida panhandle at all. Truthfully, it's more of a challenge NOT to grow them here, given how easily they sprout from the numerous seeds produced each year.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP1H9zguW6wLAsWQPOpNI5hYXbyUQrTJ2krt9gYfzV9Y-KMaDT2Kk95RB_1DyCTmz2x6wg3NYMxaOIQG2n9ggOASe0JnWFr3sYqdMTO0GgS0WJmA1y1NzM99Iz2m3cjyAx2r2-/s1600/Magnolia-tree%252C-front%252C-30-Apr-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1040" data-original-width="1600" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP1H9zguW6wLAsWQPOpNI5hYXbyUQrTJ2krt9gYfzV9Y-KMaDT2Kk95RB_1DyCTmz2x6wg3NYMxaOIQG2n9ggOASe0JnWFr3sYqdMTO0GgS0WJmA1y1NzM99Iz2m3cjyAx2r2-/s400/Magnolia-tree%252C-front%252C-30-Apr-2018.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
We inherited 2 large southern magnolias when we purchased our home 3 years ago - one in the front by the driveway and one in the back by the bedrooms. Both are within 25 feet of the house. There are 2 more southern magnolias, much smaller, along the side of the yard, and a 5th next to our neighbor's house, just over the property line. Each of our neighbors' yards also boasts a large one at the far back, hanging over the shore of the lake. We've rapidly gained a fair amount of experience gardening with - and under - this species.<br />
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This is the first time I've had large southern magnolias in my yard and I'm developing a distinctly bipolar, love/hate relationship with them. Sorry, Shelley, but sometimes these guys do TOO well to fit in a yard or garden comfortably.<br />
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For starters, let me be positive. Wildlife loves southern magnolias and I constantly see birds foraging among the branches. <br />
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Well.... To actually be accurate, I have to say that I frequently see birds fly into the tree(s) and I occasionally get a glimpse of them as they move through the heavy canopy of large, dark leaves, presumably foraging. I know my southern magnolias get a LOT of use, but most of the time I'm darned if I can really see what's going on up there.<br />
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Those large leaves are where the love/hate part of the southern magnolia equation comes in for me. The shade cast by southern magnolias is dense. Here in our yard, even the shade of the individual tree that has been limbed up halfway to heaven casts a deep shadow on the house. Some days our home feels positively gloomy with the sun blocked so thoroughly by these dark guardians.<br />
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While southern magnolias are evergreen, that doesn't mean that the individual leaves remain on the tree longer than leaves on other trees. It just means that the leaves don't all fall at once. Indeed, the leaves fall constantly throughout the year in a never-ending rain of big, waxy, plant smothering, brown layers. Some gardeners think that southern magnolia leaves decompose slowly, but they rot almost as fast as the much smaller oak leaves that also fall in our yard. The difference is that the individual oak leaves don't cover entire plant crowns when they land, giving the plants below them a chance of finding daylight sometime within the next year. <br />
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In the photo above, a 2 year old golden alexander (<i>Zizia aurea</i>) struggles to keep above the gathering magnolia leaves.<br />
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I've decided that one of the anti-competition strategies developed by southern magnolias is the ability of those fallen leaves to smother all plants that attempt to grow within their drip line. <br />
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Even lawn under trimmed-up magnolia trees can be a challenge. The leaves in the photo above have accumulated just since the last lawn mowing, maybe 10 days ago. You can see how the heavy leaves can quickly smother even healthy grass if they are not removed, let alone what they are able to do to more delicate plants like ferns or small perennials.<br />
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To add to the joy brought by the continuous shower of large leaves in the garden, those same leaves often curl as they die and drop, cupping in a way that holds water if it happens to rain. Since we get a LOT of rain here along the Gulf Coast, that's not an infrequent occurrence. With humidity levels that prefer to linger between 75% and 95%, the tiny water pools in the magnolia leaves don't evaporate very fast and certain mosquito species have adapted to lay their eggs in these tiny personal incubation ponds. Southern magnolias might well be nicknamed mosquito trees down here. (Note: See the P.S.S. at the end of this rambling commentary.)<br />
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Recently I've noted that it's not only the large leaves that hold water once they fall from this giant tree - the huge white petals of the grand flowers (<i>M. grandiflora</i>) do as well, after they've finished their job of attracting insects and they have gracefully drifted down to the ground. <br />
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I don't mean to be completely negative. The giant blossoms look and smell wonderful, after all. <br />
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Then there are the snazzy looking seedpods that develop from the large, sumptuous white flowers.<br />
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These seedpods are seriously cool: fuzzy, brown or brownish green, stemmed grenades with an intricate arrangement of little holes that each hold a bright red seed or two if that ovary was fertilized. I LOVE the seedpods...most of the time. Unfortunately, these spectacular structures are also quite heavy and surprisingly spiky, given their soft appearance. We park our cars under the front magnolia and have had the roof dented by a particularly weighty magnolia seedpod that fell on it. I have nightmares about what it would feel like to have one fall on my head.<br />
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Not only are these fist-sized seedpods weighty and prickly, they are also impressively abundant, landing in the flowerbeds, as well as on the lawn, sidewalks, and driveways. Once on the ground, they defy the most powerful of leaf blowers to move them and they dull any mower blades that dare to bite into them. Unlike the leaves, magnolia seedpods <i>do</i> take a long time to decompose, so there gets to be quite a buildup of them over time, providing a cobblestone like texture to the soil beneath the parent tree. Oh, to have grandkids old enough to want to earn a bit of money by gathering them all up to send to the landfill.....<br />
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Thinking about the seedpods that bear the magnolia seeds brings me back, full circle, to how well southern magnolias grow around here. Each of those gorgeous red seeds has the potential to put down roots and become a NEW (giant) southern magnolia - and a surprising number of the seeds make the attempt. I am constantly pulling up seedlings - or saplings, if I've missed a hidden sprout. It doesn't take long for a dainty, little seedling to develop into a sturdy, small tree that gives obvious promise of its eventual ability to heave up concrete and dominate the space around it. <br />
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Despite its challenges for the home gardener, southern magnolia is an awesome tree perfectly made for the Gulf Coast. Even though those huge leaves seem like they'd catch the wind enough to uproot the tree, it is one of the top 3 trees for hurricane resistance. Southern magnolias grow superbly in a variety of soils, including the deep sand that makes up our local landscape. <br />
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All that said, given my druthers, I'd plant this tree in the back of the yard, along the lake shore, where its leaves could accumulate to their hearts' content or could float away to decompose in downstream waters.<br />
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Since I didn't get a choice about siting these trees in my yard, I manage in the best way I can. For me, that means going out periodically and (literally) picking up, by hand, the leaves that have fallen into the flower beds. <br />
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Here is a trug with the leaves that I picked off the lyre-leaf sage (<i>Salvia lyrata</i>) just to the right of it.... <br />
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Combined with the magnolia leaves we rake off the lawn and blow off the driveway and walkways, these waxy packets of organic matter can be chopped up with a combination of lawnmower and leaf blower into pieces that no longer hold water, then dumped back into the beds to decompose and enrich the soil. <br />
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The small pile of chopped leaves above, with 3 whole leaves for contrast, gives a sense of the great leaf mulch that magnolia leaves can provide, with a little effort on the part of the gardener. And, oh, the resulting soil is so wonderfully rich!<br />
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Sometimes, while I'm picking up the leaves, I'm graced with the sight of an anole sunning in a shrub, a brown skink skittering through the litter, a dark-winged damselfly waiting to give chase, or a wolf snail hunting its prey. I've slowed down, sat down, and started moving at the patient pace of nature. In the end, that deliberateness is a gift of incalculable value, opening windows into the world around me.<br />
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P.S. I was out front picking up magnolia leaves from in between fern fronds and other plants this afternoon, wondering how silly I looked to the neighbors as I spent my time in this manner. Then I stopped and asked myself what other people were likely to be doing at that very moment. Watching TV? Checking out Facebook? Recreational shopping? This close to the Gulf, many folks were likely to be at the beach, lying on the sand. Nobody would think twice about whether any of those activities were "worthwhile", so why was I worrying about looking silly as I picked up magnolia leaves in the garden? I was outside (in the shade), enjoying a beautiful day, listening to birds singing, watching for little critters among the plants as I removed and gathered the smothering leaves. No matter what anyone else thinks, I certainly could have spent my afternoon in a much less enjoyable and productive manner! <br />
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P.S.S. While I was picking up leaves, I noticed that quite a few of them were "pre-drilled" with drainage holes..... Thank you, fungi, caterpillars or whatever other natural phenomenon might have created those holes! Another benefit of letting nature balance itself.<br />
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<br />Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-73652518076979883812018-04-03T16:53:00.000-07:002018-04-03T16:53:05.349-07:00Acceptable and Unacceptable Changes to the Neighborhood LandscapeAt the beginning of June, we will have lived in this house for 3 years, although I didn't start gardening in the yard until the fall of that first year.<br />
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This is what the front yard looked like in mid April, 6 weeks before we moved in....<br />
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While the yard was neatly trimmed and mowed back then, I found it sterile and boring. Naturally, when I began gardening, I started adding native plants and removing non-natives. As usual, I had more of a general idea of what I wanted the garden and yard to be, rather than any firm plan. Most of all I just wanted my yard to be a small wildlife refuge in the midst of suburbia. And I wanted it to be pretty, too, if at all possible.<br />
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I kept the huge canopy trees, a southern magnolia (<i>Magnolia grandiflora</i>) and a laurel oak (<i>Quercus laurifolia</i>). They are both native and, while I probably wouldn't have chosen either species to put in their spots, they add gravitas and presence to the yard. Besides 3 dwarf yaupons (<i>Ilex vomitoria</i>) and a few of the lawn weeds, they were also the only native plants growing in the front.<br />
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Since those first days, I've added a laundry list of natives to the front gardens, including <b>shrubs</b> (oakleaf hydrangeas, Virginia sweetspire, sweet pepperbush, dwarf Florida dogwood, wax myrtle, Darrow's blueberry, and a deciduous holly), <b>ferns</b> (southern shield fern, leatherleaf fern, and southern woodfern), <b>perennials</b> (columbine, blue eyed grass, golden ragwort, little brown jug, lyreleaf sage, Indian pinks, Walter's violets, woodland phlox, downy phlox, garden phlox, green and gold, Louisiana iris, mouse-ear coreopsis one, mouse ear coreopsis two, spiderwort, Gaillardia, Florida scrub skullcap, golden zizia, bluestem goldenrod, showy goldenrod, regal catchfly, powderpuff mimosa, dense blazingstar, native lantana, white Baptisia, butterfly milkweed, and fogfruit), and even a <b>grass</b> (Elliott's lovegrass). I'll spare you all the scientific names - this time!<br />
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Here's a recent photo of the front yard....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrSfCmEfIXsMuC4lTgFfwzNIYGHFsYgOLlIZRNl5R8s-K_Ot6mRSue15IB1YIVs_o8PWTZL9PmDu-BNoZ8B_qmNKLZIbHJ4q8F_M0m2RC1Ta8LHI0DMNCarfmiy_3ZW3cZ5lXp/s1600/Front-yard%252C-3-Apr-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1168" data-original-width="1600" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrSfCmEfIXsMuC4lTgFfwzNIYGHFsYgOLlIZRNl5R8s-K_Ot6mRSue15IB1YIVs_o8PWTZL9PmDu-BNoZ8B_qmNKLZIbHJ4q8F_M0m2RC1Ta8LHI0DMNCarfmiy_3ZW3cZ5lXp/s400/Front-yard%252C-3-Apr-2018.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Only now are the garden beds beginning to show up and look like gardens. "A year to sleep, a year to creep, a year to leap." The old maxim holds true yet again.<br />
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Having added such a wide variety and large number of plants, it's odd to me what people notice and comment about in my front gardens. I had a neighbor tell me how much she liked the "yellow flower", golden ragwort (<i>Packera aurea</i>), shortly after I planted it next to the sidewalk, under the magnolia. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEishsXZVVvlcMcngN3y7l4cL44QeyI9N1DcI169Kfsu_gJBDd7VQIA7uZiZMPs81cObYIx6grWHCzQxZt0qQfdZtyKmpFTThcxFrQecbJHdgycPERGR74ZR-hBJ0b7k4SzFSLu9/s1600/Golden-ragwort-bloom%252C-18-Feb-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEishsXZVVvlcMcngN3y7l4cL44QeyI9N1DcI169Kfsu_gJBDd7VQIA7uZiZMPs81cObYIx6grWHCzQxZt0qQfdZtyKmpFTThcxFrQecbJHdgycPERGR74ZR-hBJ0b7k4SzFSLu9/s320/Golden-ragwort-bloom%252C-18-Feb-2018.jpg" width="209" /></a></div>
Ironically, I love the foliage of this plant, which is low, dark green, shiny, and rich looking to my eye...but I don't particularly care for the flowers. I do love their cheerful presence early in the growing season, though. Golden ragwort are the first native flowers to bloom in my garden. <br />
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Recently, a woman who came by to pick up wild strawberry plants I was giving away commented how much she liked my columbine and blue eyed grass. That made my day! She even knew the names!<br />
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Here's one clump of the blue-eyed grass (<i>Sisyrinchium angustifolium</i>) she was admiring, by the front porch, ...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiT2mFGAb0yNvoE7OGDYfCzKdr-NWeR9puRoGarxlfuAMB2Fip5xa_6Ph4ncqt9gjt_ddiA1Iqb4NHCM07ojCnwrQ7akKVHAdxHgmZHxipIUtj4d-hVvKkUlMPFoHvQhSkYnem/s1600/Blue-eyed-grass%252C-3-Apr-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1176" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiT2mFGAb0yNvoE7OGDYfCzKdr-NWeR9puRoGarxlfuAMB2Fip5xa_6Ph4ncqt9gjt_ddiA1Iqb4NHCM07ojCnwrQ7akKVHAdxHgmZHxipIUtj4d-hVvKkUlMPFoHvQhSkYnem/s320/Blue-eyed-grass%252C-3-Apr-2018.jpg" width="235" /></a></div>
...and a closeup of blue-eyed grass blossoms in the shade nearby. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvmSXu73-Lsv233FHTKsLet6tVZgy2d7ikGHwvFTAR6GmnDNuu4mB-2td_z5_qDbAu90ySEJlicZMNUWyFqCeZsTbyi-XtaSJdGlaqZkXA4W6nX7JwFM1xEWxZnMmQ631kN5P1/s1600/Blue-eyed-Grass%252C-31-Mar-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvmSXu73-Lsv233FHTKsLet6tVZgy2d7ikGHwvFTAR6GmnDNuu4mB-2td_z5_qDbAu90ySEJlicZMNUWyFqCeZsTbyi-XtaSJdGlaqZkXA4W6nX7JwFM1xEWxZnMmQ631kN5P1/s320/Blue-eyed-Grass%252C-31-Mar-2018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Then here's a picture of the other species she was admiring, eastern red columbine (<i>Aquilegia canadensis</i>), taken a couple weeks ago when it was first starting to bloom.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRhI_HvviHqbUavu20K8EjjXNJ_YxompL7V1fD2cg6nOas_ZaOCnZWokDF0Wg0wpQJcD5MjVgPrtLbCrkICUJxEimJ6THCYJVyCmwaOjuvHcwdo1KPPLWitKe-tjvk4aZVIsBP/s1600/Columbine%252C-15-Mar-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1282" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRhI_HvviHqbUavu20K8EjjXNJ_YxompL7V1fD2cg6nOas_ZaOCnZWokDF0Wg0wpQJcD5MjVgPrtLbCrkICUJxEimJ6THCYJVyCmwaOjuvHcwdo1KPPLWitKe-tjvk4aZVIsBP/s320/Columbine%252C-15-Mar-2018.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
As much as I love blue-eyed grass and columbine, I am surprised that no one has ever mentioned my downy phlox (<i>Phlox pilosa</i>), which I think is beautiful. A tidy mound of cotton candy pink at the front of the flower bed, this classy little plant blooms nonstop from December through to the end of May and even into June. Perhaps to most eyes it just looks like a standard annual bedding plant?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8mcTD3eZCeh2Hpgb9GUcWpjX9akDklRzYxm1-f5MFf9cKXlJoMAW0rBchzNfs444ZRqURpTQByEOqmUo4PU0vD6Fc5g7_Iihsbj9tKz2WR1ilLTTy9f77pcBpTJunm13yVKTf/s1600/Downy-phlox%252C-13-Mar-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1036" data-original-width="1600" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8mcTD3eZCeh2Hpgb9GUcWpjX9akDklRzYxm1-f5MFf9cKXlJoMAW0rBchzNfs444ZRqURpTQByEOqmUo4PU0vD6Fc5g7_Iihsbj9tKz2WR1ilLTTy9f77pcBpTJunm13yVKTf/s320/Downy-phlox%252C-13-Mar-2018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The spiderwort (<i>Tradescantia ohiensis</i>), which is spectacular right now, doesn't get much mention either - although another neighbor has started telling me when he sees it popping up in wild areas around the neighborhood, encouraging me to go dig it up and add it to my gardens. Since he lives 2 doors down from me, I figure he must like it at least a little or he wouldn't be encouraging me to plant more.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO7TQ4UhkBDqNwE_ZpSWYsP-MHRyEkfhlg-y1IzdeTjLm6JxHkSOWLNeC3s-0Odlzw6ek2FL-R2KG3fgH4y1w7284S6pL3cZAHR9pzv055DDhUyVw1TdJu8J3-ExwhPrOV_qvH/s1600/Spiderwort-and-white-Baptisia%252C-21-Mar-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1148" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO7TQ4UhkBDqNwE_ZpSWYsP-MHRyEkfhlg-y1IzdeTjLm6JxHkSOWLNeC3s-0Odlzw6ek2FL-R2KG3fgH4y1w7284S6pL3cZAHR9pzv055DDhUyVw1TdJu8J3-ExwhPrOV_qvH/s320/Spiderwort-and-white-Baptisia%252C-21-Mar-2018.jpg" width="229" /></a></div>
In particular, though, one plant has caused unexpected reactions: powderpuff mimosa (<i>Mimosa strigillosa</i>), a relative of catclaw sensitive briar, for those of my friends who garden in the prairie. Greg loves groundcovers, so we thought we'd try putting this low growing plant, with its pretty foliage and its blooms that look like sparkling pink pompoms, up front. We are encouraging it to spread out and fill in the hell strip between the sidewalk and the street. To our eyes, it's prettier than weedy grass any day! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBr0yk9JUCfSgC2GNVwWUEtOgVqATzonV7-ya788NpWGo3VhsTuSQgVUdT2efltMt7lklM8lRKMRIycdLwGzQlc4YwKx0GnevBK3nTnDVKOk6nj9DjFCEZ2TAFnrk2pSRyAg-6/s1600/Powderpuff+bloom%252C+11+Jul+2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="928" data-original-width="1321" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBr0yk9JUCfSgC2GNVwWUEtOgVqATzonV7-ya788NpWGo3VhsTuSQgVUdT2efltMt7lklM8lRKMRIycdLwGzQlc4YwKx0GnevBK3nTnDVKOk6nj9DjFCEZ2TAFnrk2pSRyAg-6/s320/Powderpuff+bloom%252C+11+Jul+2016.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Ironically, no one seems to notice the blossoms (which are, in my opinion, very cute and very hard to miss), but the foliage makes people uncomfortable - superficially it looks too similar to chamberbitter (<i>Phyllanthus urinaria</i>), a.k.a. gripeweed, a common lawn weed down here.<br />
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Unfortunately, I inadvertently played into this concern by planting the first two powderpuffs at the base of a newly planted wax myrtle. I didn't take the time to clear a large, carefully delineated "bed" for the powderpuff to spread into. I've done my best to keep the grass weeded out of the spreading groundcover, and the powderpuffs have filled in marvelously well...but there isn't a defined edge to help people "read" this part of the landscape easily. That was a mistake on my part.<br />
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I'm going to keep working on the powderpuff, but another element I added to our front landscape is slated for removal: the small brush pile under the big laurel oak - at the base of its trunk in the photo below. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiBhFPly54XnftCOlhIJBLSxQMDQUHE4lkg7eKCak9Vqlvxt2msx_s-NaqZrLC9CK8PVzPXH7eatcVCqeKQN2XroWSNbCY6re19L0qHOofvF8ztONYX9TbwjTjPdv1eL2Zbi_n/s1600/Front-yard%252C-31-Mar-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1103" data-original-width="1600" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiBhFPly54XnftCOlhIJBLSxQMDQUHE4lkg7eKCak9Vqlvxt2msx_s-NaqZrLC9CK8PVzPXH7eatcVCqeKQN2XroWSNbCY6re19L0qHOofvF8ztONYX9TbwjTjPdv1eL2Zbi_n/s400/Front-yard%252C-31-Mar-2018.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Living in such a high humidity environment, many woody branches are covered with fascinating, feathery mini-gardens of lichen. When several small branches ornamented in lichen "lace" fell in the front yard, I couldn't bear to put them out for the city to pick up. Instead I used them to construct a small brush pile towards the back of the bed. Here is a photo of a branch covered in lichen that fell in our yard...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyphenhyphenj_MncNtoyOoddZYygoSnFqkJY3uTZ6QmmH9U_XAxx3AqQ7wWL1Ch7c_cy5LR2jTw3FNUvImdFq6eS6JYlDsVXshsge2BPe8_Ofvc2wJwjpJxhUPXzx0TrrlkTluTAIJyV9y/s1600/Lichen-on-fallen-branch%252C-30-Jan-2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyphenhyphenj_MncNtoyOoddZYygoSnFqkJY3uTZ6QmmH9U_XAxx3AqQ7wWL1Ch7c_cy5LR2jTw3FNUvImdFq6eS6JYlDsVXshsge2BPe8_Ofvc2wJwjpJxhUPXzx0TrrlkTluTAIJyV9y/s320/Lichen-on-fallen-branch%252C-30-Jan-2016.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
...and here is a closeup of that lichen.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaDuUYQFznNqUm9rxEFqh7Rqb_FeEUDTNG9A-ecYlEcgW2hNuOoHh7DZFqHDeCstPB7qcMdlHWZQ2sTwj-bpZkCBufJR0f3gVfNzzj9u4husJevbASHXrpFqNzIz17_C4oM34x/s1600/Lichen%252C-closeup%252C-30-Jan-2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaDuUYQFznNqUm9rxEFqh7Rqb_FeEUDTNG9A-ecYlEcgW2hNuOoHh7DZFqHDeCstPB7qcMdlHWZQ2sTwj-bpZkCBufJR0f3gVfNzzj9u4husJevbASHXrpFqNzIz17_C4oM34x/s320/Lichen%252C-closeup%252C-30-Jan-2016.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Several people have asked why I'm leaving "that pile" there and I've taken the time to tell them about the benefits of brush piles, but I've decided to move the pile around to the backyard where it's nobody's business but ours. The pile's been growing a little faster than I was planning, anyway, as more branches have fallen out of the oak. I still can't bring myself to send those gorgeous lichens off with the city dump trucks!<br />
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Despite my occasional misstep, the plants I've put in the front gardens are taking hold and growing well, getting taller and broader, blooming more fully. I'm far from the world's best landscape or garden designer, so my color and form combinations are rather haphazard, but I get a buzz of pleasure now when I drive up to our house or walk outside. For example, when I left the house this morning, I noticed a towhee foraging among the skullcaps by the sidewalk, and there are almost always at least a few butterflies, native bees, or honeybees diligently working the flowers. Little brown skinks commonly rustle through the leaf mulch and green anoles prowl the shrubs and perennials, males puffing out their salmon-colored throats in displays of pride and power during these lengthening spring days.<br />
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I hope my human neighbors come to enjoy my wilding landscape. I love that the wildlife is making itself at home outside my house...and it makes this yard home for me now, too. Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-71014348454735590082018-04-02T17:49:00.000-07:002018-04-02T17:49:20.912-07:00Spreading the Wild(life) NewsAbout a week ago I took a deep breath and plunged into a new "platform" for me: a Nextdoor neighborhood group I've belonged to for a couple years now. I've posted briefly on it once or twice before, with little response, but this time I decided to be a bit more blunt and opinionated. The results have been interesting.<br />
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Here along the Gulf Coast, early spring is the biggest season for leaf fall as the evergreen oaks push off last year's leaves before they put out a new flush of leaves for this growing season. First the laurel oaks drop their leaves, then the sand live oaks drop their leaves, and finally the live oaks drop their leaves. It's about 6 weeks of constantly falling, relatively small, brown leaves. In our neighborhood, these oaks are almost all BIG trees and the leaves that get dropped in this relatively short period of time rival the leaf drop of autumn in essentially any other forested area of the country. Except there's no pretty color, I have to note.<br />
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So the leaf blowers have been working overtime for the month around here and there have literally been mountains of leaves pushed to the curb for the city to come by and pick up. It saddens me to see all this beautiful mulch getting thrown away, so I posted:<br />
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"<span class="truncate-line-truncation-wrapper"><span class="truncate-line-truncation-content"><span class="Linkify">As I watch oak leaves being raked and put out by the curb for the city to pick up, I'd like to suggest that everyone consider blowing them into shrub and flower beds instead. They make great mulch and look as nice or nicer than anything you can buy. The birds love to rustle through them looking for food, and the leaves decompose easily to make your soil much richer and healthier."</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="truncate-line-truncation-wrapper"><span class="truncate-line-truncation-content"><span class="Linkify">Within a day, 8 different people had responded to my post. <span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify">After 10 days, 14 different people had responded in total. A total of 14 people had thanked me.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="truncate-line-truncation-wrapper"><span class="truncate-line-truncation-content"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify">Six of the comments were negative, with most people concerned about all the animals that would live and breed in the mulch. Mentioned by name were roaches, fleas, termites, and mosquitoes. I assured everyone that the roaches in leaves were not the same roaches that get into kitchens, that termites need wood rather than leaves (although I didn't recommend deep piles of leaves directly against the side of a house either), and that fleas were more likely in a lawn than in a mulched bed. Another person got on to say that mosquitoes needed standing water to breed, although they might hang out in leaf mulch, and that they were unlikely to have enough water to breed in oak leaves, as compared to magnolia leaves.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="truncate-line-truncation-wrapper"><span class="truncate-line-truncation-content"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify">Other concerns mentioned by negative commenters were the "lack of nutrition in oak leaves" (which I responded to by noting the importance of organic matter in our sandy soil), the tannins that would leach and kill plants (which I said weren't a problem according to experts who'd studied the issue), and the leaves blowing out of the flower/shrub beds (at which point I suggested that any leaves that blew out of the beds could be mulched mowed into the grass to provide organic matter there).</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="truncate-line-truncation-wrapper"><span class="truncate-line-truncation-content"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify">A couple comments were neutral. One person said she thought using leaves as mulch was a great idea, but she was terrified of birds, so she wouldn't be doing it at her house. I wasn't quite sure HOW to respond to her. Yet another individual was thankful people don't burn leaves any more because now she could breath. One woman tried to send me a link to an article which she said proved that mulching leaves into lawns was harmful, but the link to which she sent me said that it was beneficial.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="truncate-line-truncation-wrapper"><span class="truncate-line-truncation-content"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify">Another man said I seemed knowledgeable about plants and asked me if I designed landscapes. Laughing to myself, I thanked him for the compliment and said, no, I definitely did not. After another person recommended her husband's lawn care and landscape service to him, the gentleman said he wanted an area around his pool landscaped with a "nice tropical design". So much for someone interested in wildlife! </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="truncate-line-truncation-wrapper"><span class="truncate-line-truncation-content"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify">Not surprisingly, my favorite 3 comments were the ones which said they already used their leaves as mulch or they composted them. Those 3 commenters and the gal who said mosquitoes needed standing water to breed restored my faith in other local gardeners, at least a little!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="truncate-line-truncation-wrapper"><span class="truncate-line-truncation-content"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify">Which is, perhaps, a bit of a harsh judgement on my part, since a further 11 people thanked me for my original post, but did not comment.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="truncate-line-truncation-wrapper"><span class="truncate-line-truncation-content"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify">So 25 people responded altogether: 6 actively negative, 4 actively neutral, 4 actively positive, and 11 passively positive.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="truncate-line-truncation-wrapper"><span class="truncate-line-truncation-content"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify">I've gone on to make three further posts on this neighborhood site in the last 2 weeks: one post warning people about buying plants that have been treated with neonics for butterfly and pollinator gardens; another post offering wild strawberry plants if anyone wanted to come by and pick them up; and a third post simply talking about the birds I was seeing in my yard and how they preferred foraging in the wilder, less manicured areas of the landscape. All 3 posts elicited at least a dozen comments and the same number or more "thanks".</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="truncate-line-truncation-wrapper"><span class="truncate-line-truncation-content"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify"><span class="comment-detail-body-full"><span class="Linkify">I've been trying to keep Mother Teresa's comment in mind lately, "I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples." I feel like these neighborhood posts are creating a few quiet ripples in our local waters, and that makes me happy.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<br />Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-20741117396282969152018-03-01T21:23:00.000-08:002018-03-01T21:23:04.647-08:00A Hawk, A Sapsucker, and A Squirrel Went Into a Yard.....A hawk, a sapsucker, and a squirrel went into a yard and ... found it appealing enough to stay for a while. <br />
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There is no punchline to this rather pathetic attempt at imitating the old joke. I'm actually referring to our yard and I get profound pleasure out of sharing it with other animals. That's no joke, indeed. It's great fun to see the variety of creatures that peacefully cohabit with us, if not always with each other.<br />
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It's even MORE fun when they pose for a picture for me!<br />
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So, just for kicks and giggles, here are some of the critters I've been seeing around lately....<br />
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About 10 days before Christmas, I was doing laundry and noticed a movement outside the laundry room door. Imagine my delight at seeing a young yellow-bellied sapsucker female (<i><span class="morecontent">Sphyrapicus varius</span></i>) working earnestly on the side of the pignut hickory tree (<i>Carya glabra</i>) that's located nearby. I got a huge series of shots, but they are all essentially the same, so here's one that shows her classy yellow belly feathers beginning to grow in, as well as her sadly inadequate ability to line up the holes that she was boring into the side of the tree.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEpYOVcaM2VITjZ252eO3PHXpSmiBQjvw-ksH9-0-YGQurzIHT69eP8lXLzBzNNJCFwM3r9OLz36Okq9VeLRHLlY3MQZrBTypYkSF1axrEgQyQLfObJGk_T9sSK4PfUx9ARuHF/s1600/Yellow+bellied+sapsucker%252C+2%252C+closer%252C+15+Dec+2017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="910" data-original-width="715" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEpYOVcaM2VITjZ252eO3PHXpSmiBQjvw-ksH9-0-YGQurzIHT69eP8lXLzBzNNJCFwM3r9OLz36Okq9VeLRHLlY3MQZrBTypYkSF1axrEgQyQLfObJGk_T9sSK4PfUx9ARuHF/s400/Yellow+bellied+sapsucker%252C+2%252C+closer%252C+15+Dec+2017.jpg" width="313" /></a></div>
A question for anyone who's a serious birder: is this a common phenomenon in young sapsuckers, or is this particular individual just having unusual difficulties with her grasp of horizontality? Here is an expanded version of how she "lined up" the holes she was drilling.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCT6VjRosCMQlL9irXvEWZuQrJPiVFVm1UzWNrHu3s4EchMnoRsqAZa4ySxzI2N1DQZvubZTdoSWstICK5McmAwoKXb7Q4Az_rgCYoj7zr8XKrg01qezomU_NaX6nNJ8Rs6gmt/s1600/Yellow+bellied+sapsucker+and+holes%252C+3%252C+15+Dec+2017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="569" data-original-width="1372" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCT6VjRosCMQlL9irXvEWZuQrJPiVFVm1UzWNrHu3s4EchMnoRsqAZa4ySxzI2N1DQZvubZTdoSWstICK5McmAwoKXb7Q4Az_rgCYoj7zr8XKrg01qezomU_NaX6nNJ8Rs6gmt/s400/Yellow+bellied+sapsucker+and+holes%252C+3%252C+15+Dec+2017.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Speaking of pignut hickory trees, the Eastern Gray Squirrels (<i>Sciurus carolinensis</i>) love the hickory nuts that the trees produce abundantly each fall and they frequent our yard and gardens throughout the winter. They don't necessarily like to pose, generally being much too busy to wait around that long, but sometimes one will humor me. <br />
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Once I downloaded the photos this guy "sat" for and looked at him a little more closely, he (I'm just guessing at the sex) looked like the squirrel equivalent of a tomcat. Seriously - do squirrels fight each other? How else would this guy's ears have gotten so tattered? <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIrxUmMwVuKghC2ObWZeG20dJgyQ5LwMD9R2Y8JDfSNqbzQCugAheOLIvK0F5ZdAVxZMSA8F4W2qv5WecuRv11HKodn0m_wdLfKthzN8Hd37kC65Md4v974wGML_9G-6OoNGwR/s1600/Squirrel%252C-5-Feb-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="584" data-original-width="700" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIrxUmMwVuKghC2ObWZeG20dJgyQ5LwMD9R2Y8JDfSNqbzQCugAheOLIvK0F5ZdAVxZMSA8F4W2qv5WecuRv11HKodn0m_wdLfKthzN8Hd37kC65Md4v974wGML_9G-6OoNGwR/s400/Squirrel%252C-5-Feb-2018.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Most often I see the squirrels using our trees as a sort of squirrel highway along the lakeside, but they obviously stop and refill their bellies, too, based on the number of gnawed open, empty nuts I find. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOWbmlkMtFnSb154_jU0vq0PB8tRqbqHLIomanO9wsRLLQ5-JnXk6Dee-8tAQOsh8nlfDDOVNnXoCEuIBPnT3SEfxomr6kcSubcxBXVNPTb5sJOckU07asDG_44pmXY-ot58N/s1600/Pignut-hickories-eaten%252C-24-Feb-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1529" data-original-width="1600" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOWbmlkMtFnSb154_jU0vq0PB8tRqbqHLIomanO9wsRLLQ5-JnXk6Dee-8tAQOsh8nlfDDOVNnXoCEuIBPnT3SEfxomr6kcSubcxBXVNPTb5sJOckU07asDG_44pmXY-ot58N/s320/Pignut-hickories-eaten%252C-24-Feb-2018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
On the same day that Mr. Squirrel posed for me, February 5th, I was able to get a photo or two of what I believe is a question mark butterfly (<i>Polygonia interrogationis</i>). It didn't let me get very close, so I was glad that the photos turned out as well as they did. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUk9gJ4v1ZEHXlXRJzdeiAxZwYG10vOLM1vRa9-_v54PY_IWykXMUrxO01byb9VbZC1QwaWEN8Dej-dPRY_UWFvg7ZJgqxVw1HxZywWI7FGBO5rzq11e69uy6tZ6-NFppdsnHe/s1600/Comma-butterfly%252C-5-Feb-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="624" data-original-width="616" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUk9gJ4v1ZEHXlXRJzdeiAxZwYG10vOLM1vRa9-_v54PY_IWykXMUrxO01byb9VbZC1QwaWEN8Dej-dPRY_UWFvg7ZJgqxVw1HxZywWI7FGBO5rzq11e69uy6tZ6-NFppdsnHe/s320/Comma-butterfly%252C-5-Feb-2018.jpg" width="315" /></a></div>
The lavender wing borders are particularly stunning when you can see them as clearly as you can in these photos. <br />
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Question marks, commas, and goatweed butterflies, which all look fairly similar to me, are some of the first butterflies I see each spring, presumably because they overwinter as adults. <br />
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Four days later, on February 9th, we had a pair of stately visitors on our lake: Brown Pelicans (<span class="lesscontent"><i>Pelecanus occidentalis</i>). We don't seem them often on our little body of water, but I sure love it when they grace us with their presence!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC7paFhB1PE7sB_5YtAoA0Q1T9sG6AADGpv4OO6KS4q150FE4241867I8iCBpkZJWGksg2PcOvHTQ1id97x6s-PPOR6AoC-a9NPZrcLW1wt9TYlzwvW2AkYq5jCexRfqCHoAPS/s1600/Brown-pelicans%252C-closeup%252C-9-Feb-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="644" data-original-width="808" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC7paFhB1PE7sB_5YtAoA0Q1T9sG6AADGpv4OO6KS4q150FE4241867I8iCBpkZJWGksg2PcOvHTQ1id97x6s-PPOR6AoC-a9NPZrcLW1wt9TYlzwvW2AkYq5jCexRfqCHoAPS/s400/Brown-pelicans%252C-closeup%252C-9-Feb-2018.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span class="lesscontent">I remember when brown pelicans were endangered, thanks to DDT, which made their egg shells so thin that they cracked from the weight of the mother bird incubating. Because of the Endangered Species Act, the populations of brown pelicans and ospreys and bald eagles and many other animals have come back to healthy levels and it is relatively easy to have a sighting of many of these species now if you look in the right habitat. It deeply saddens me that the current administration, with the aid of Congress, is doing away with so many important environmental protections that have helped in so many ways during the last 40 years.</span><br />
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<span class="lesscontent">But back to more positive thoughts and sightings....</span><br />
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<span class="lesscontent">Evidently a timely pattern had developed for me during February, because another 4 days later, on the 13th, I was out photographing again. This time I captured the first damselfly of spring, a young female Fragile Forktail (<i>Ischnura posita</i>).</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDNjiDqmiD8jMAZ4NKTLW3sJRVhsgqkRZvTRFf71mbPT-oPWAuQdr6RlAB_0l1ztGvIxYduvNPK6hp6g9vhm8dITywbwe8sKXpHl2qIn1Sfa1sDPVg4nSHHqKaT9bi1w4j9HzO/s1600/Damselfly%252C-touched-up%252C-13-Feb-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="1384" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDNjiDqmiD8jMAZ4NKTLW3sJRVhsgqkRZvTRFf71mbPT-oPWAuQdr6RlAB_0l1ztGvIxYduvNPK6hp6g9vhm8dITywbwe8sKXpHl2qIn1Sfa1sDPVg4nSHHqKaT9bi1w4j9HzO/s400/Damselfly%252C-touched-up%252C-13-Feb-2018.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span class="lesscontent">One of the ways to sex many dragonfly and damselfly species (for humans, at least) is by their color. The pale blue of the damselfly above indicates both her age and her sex. A few days later, I saw and photographed a male fragile forktail in the same general area, identified by</span> his bright green color in the same pattern as the young female.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidGhZfKy7CGeQMuKsbnt3bpjG046TccMYSlcd5L7t3pVeE5xrpAYyDn0ecywpSHR9BQsjVipXEoGRSm0cv28qK3D2U9e-a7ud3FX5XXUDYnCubZShV5s0ogdAosuKhGFpJxdbR/s1600/Fragile-Forktail-male%252C-18-Feb-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="729" data-original-width="884" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidGhZfKy7CGeQMuKsbnt3bpjG046TccMYSlcd5L7t3pVeE5xrpAYyDn0ecywpSHR9BQsjVipXEoGRSm0cv28qK3D2U9e-a7ud3FX5XXUDYnCubZShV5s0ogdAosuKhGFpJxdbR/s320/Fragile-Forktail-male%252C-18-Feb-2018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Fragile forktails are common damselflies of the eastern United States. Unfortunately, I have not found any information explaining their common name; it's an interesting enough name to have a fun history or explanation behind it. Fragile forktails are fairly easy to identify by the colorful interrupted line that forms an "exclamation mark" on the each dorsal side of the thorax. <br />
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On the same day that I saw the male fragile forktail, I saw this little treefrog resting on the back porch screen. I had just come outside when I saw it and snapped this photo; my camera lens fogged up in the early morning humidity and by the time it unfogged, this little guy had taken shelter in some well hidden lair.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9xlrxF3Ej6zYYw6bvALku5LliCzmrHUQk9rcSTA08TXJBcRzQdPwz25YPNNX5QQhVNd12x5A12fspJ-aSD5qU1SXrj7S01INwUqjJWJFm6Zgqba-gyIM9fZjLuCt0_ZAmQCw5/s1600/Tree-frog%252C-18-Feb-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1028" data-original-width="684" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9xlrxF3Ej6zYYw6bvALku5LliCzmrHUQk9rcSTA08TXJBcRzQdPwz25YPNNX5QQhVNd12x5A12fspJ-aSD5qU1SXrj7S01INwUqjJWJFm6Zgqba-gyIM9fZjLuCt0_ZAmQCw5/s320/Tree-frog%252C-18-Feb-2018.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
With only one, slightly blurry, photo to go by, I'm not sure as to his full identity, but he sure looks hungry from the winter's lack of insects to me. <br />
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Finally, last Saturday I was sitting on the ground and waiting beside a couple ground-dwelling native bee nests.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg13AmCDuYPjXRbEZaU_rYUl4_qXAuOTu6JLdKBecER2Z611wd2BHOefczIYAEGb6iK_pNW3C3_fACnbexELm7Ab7QzSO3aPRCcW3ZmwUteb_JyBvuIUxYPsBc4jgIdQTLJFjll/s1600/Native-bee-nest%252C-24-Feb-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1402" data-original-width="1600" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg13AmCDuYPjXRbEZaU_rYUl4_qXAuOTu6JLdKBecER2Z611wd2BHOefczIYAEGb6iK_pNW3C3_fACnbexELm7Ab7QzSO3aPRCcW3ZmwUteb_JyBvuIUxYPsBc4jgIdQTLJFjll/s320/Native-bee-nest%252C-24-Feb-2018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Call me crazy, but I was hoping to catch a glimpse of a bee coming or going, or better yet to snap a photo of one, so that I could identify the bee species responsible for these cute little "volcanoes" in the yard. While I didn't see a bee, I sat still for long enough that a Red-shouldered Hawk (<i>Buteo lineatus</i>)flew in and perched in the hickory tree right above me. He/she let me take several photos, but when I turned the camera sideways to fill the frame better, I'd moved too much for the hawk's comfort and it flew off.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWG5eGBWET9FB3LyTbE95PSHTAXv7lbJ_a4g4hho8U-aNSkftCqFUSE11aLwZNmhGVsztQaFWVZrPNemdBgDwEbJxOIl-SQO6RxdKXuf4ijp8Imigm_IeWQLvq1B0GWNCz2SMo/s1600/Red-Shouldered-Hawk-redo%252C-24-Feb-2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1239" data-original-width="736" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWG5eGBWET9FB3LyTbE95PSHTAXv7lbJ_a4g4hho8U-aNSkftCqFUSE11aLwZNmhGVsztQaFWVZrPNemdBgDwEbJxOIl-SQO6RxdKXuf4ijp8Imigm_IeWQLvq1B0GWNCz2SMo/s400/Red-Shouldered-Hawk-redo%252C-24-Feb-2018.jpg" width="237" /></a></div>
Red-shouldered hawks, along with Cooper's hawks, seem to be the most common hawks in our neighborhood. I hear them almost every day and see them most days, not infrequently perched in one of our trees. <br />
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While I did get the photo of the hawk, unfortunately I was NOT able to get a look, let alone a photo, of the bee responsible for any of the ground nests in the yard. One of these days I will be patient enough AND be in the right place at the right time to do that - I just have to keep trying!<br />
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Meanwhile, I'm pretty happy with the wildlife menagerie that I've been privileged to see and photograph this winter. Best of all, the experiences are free and right outside my door!<br />
<br />Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24376388.post-43713892376041258262018-02-17T19:12:00.000-08:002018-02-18T20:03:25.770-08:00Sproing!!! Spring Appears to Be Here.....Given that Valentine's Day just sailed by, it seems a little early for spring to have arrived, but here in the panhandle of Florida, all signs point in that direction.<br />
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For the foreseeable future, the weather guessers have us in the mid-70's each day, with lows in the mid-60's at night.<br />
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The humidity has been so high lately that we've been turning on the air conditioner at night just to dry out the air inside. When we wake up in the morning, the windows are fogged over on the outside from all the humidity, even though the inside of the house is less than 5 degrees cooler than the external air temperature.<br />
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Not surprisingly, with the temperatures and humidity this high, plants and wildlife are responding exuberantly. The early daffodils are in full bloom.<br />
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Looking at the blooms, I realized just this spring that all my early daffodils are multi-bloom types. I find I'm craving some big single blossoms, so that'll be on my list for next fall.<br />
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<a href="http://www.clayandlimestone.com/2013/04/wildflower-wednesday-practically.html" target="_blank">Gail Eichelberger's "practically perfect pink phlox"</a>, a.k.a. downy phlox (<i>Phlox pilosa</i>), has been blooming since December, as it seems to do every year here. <br />
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I love this plant, but it's getting a little hard to find even in native plant nurseries these days - I think everyone must be catching on to the joy of having this beauty in their gardens.<br />
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Under the front magnolia tree, the golden ragwort (<i>Packera aurea</i>) is blooming.<br />
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It has really filled in nicely this year. By next year, I may even be able to transplant a little to other spots in the yard. <br />
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This summer it should be looking like a particularly attractive dark green groundcover in a garden spot that has been especially hard to cover with anything but leaf mulch until now. Between the heavy shade and the rampant roots, it can be difficult to garden successfully beneath southern magnolias.<br />
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Based on a couple recent blog posts I've made, you know, of course, that some of the blueberries are blooming exuberantly already. The rabbiteyes (<i>Vaccinium ashei</i>) are still dormant, but the highbush blueberries (<i>V. corymbosum</i>) are in full spate and leafing out rapidly. In my yard, highbush blueberries definitely seem to outperform their rabbiteye cousins; if I add more blueberries, they'll probably be the highbushes.<br />
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Low, down at ground level, violets are starting to open up, too. I have 3 species in the yard; two have started blooming.<br />
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One of the blooming violet species is, I believe, the classic common blue violet (<i>Viola sororia</i>), but I'm not sure what the other one is. This mystery violet has purple blooms and lance-shaped leaves. It came in with the white baptisia as a pleasant little hitchhiker that I've been enjoying quite a lot.<br />
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Speaking of the white baptisia (<i>Baptisia alba</i>), my single specimen of this beauty has leapt out of the ground as if being chased by monsters below the soil. Baptisia is one of those plants whose shoots spring forth so quickly that I feel like I can see them growing if I stand still and watch for a few minutes.<br />
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I didn't notice the baptisia shoots at first, because they were being camouflaged by the spiderwort (<i>Tradescantia ohiensis</i>) seedlings growing up around them. Some friendly crowding isn't likely to hurt, though. I haven't seen any fully open spiderwort blossoms yet, but I noticed a little blue peeking forth from one of the buds this morning. I won't be surprised to see a blossom or two tomorrow. The blue of spiderwort flowers makes my heart sing....<br />
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Have you ever heard spiderwort called bluejacket? I've never heard the term used at all, except in referring to actual clothing, but according to the <a href="https://plants.usda.gov/core/profile?symbol=TROH" target="_blank">USDA Plant Database, that is the official common name of <i>T. ohiensis</i></a>. I wonder if it's a regional thing?<br />
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Speaking of regions, the Florida panhandle is part of a region that is known more for its non-native blooms than for its native flowers. Believe it or not, I do have a fair number of non-natives in the yard and gardens, too. As far as the classic non-native plants go, besides the daffodils, there are still several camellias blooming lustily...<br />
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...and the beautiful evergreen azaleas have started opening up their flowers along the west edge of the yard.<br />
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With the masses of magenta blossoms mounding throughout the landscape, I have to admit that I love azalea season, . Those big old southern Indica azaleas are truly spectacular. They'll be opening up soon and I'm really looking forward to wallowing in their purplish profusion. Sometimes even this diehard native plant aficionado has to bow down before the overwhelming beauty of certain exotic plants!Gaia Gardener:http://www.blogger.com/profile/00692281131036600613noreply@blogger.com6