Learning My Garden Through Weeding

Anybody else out there enjoy weeding?

While I don't like to be outside for any length of time if the weather is abysmal - which is how I define most of the hot, humid summer down here in the panhandle of Florida - once the weather starts cooling off, I actually find that I like to weed.  It's meditative...and I learn A LOT about the nuts and bolts of daily life going on at ground level in my garden.

My latest weeding project is/was a large, new bed that I halfheartedly started last spring, before I got chased inside by heat and humidity.  The photo above shows about half of the area, which continues on to the right another 10 feet or so.  Taken fairly early in the weeding process, this shows the approximate height and thickness of the weeds I was removing. 

I chose to hand weed this new bed for two basic reasons, one of them related to poor planning.  First of all, I knew there were several small seedling plants located in the area that I wanted to save and, probably, relocate.  Secondly, when I started to make the bed last spring, I put in a few plants that I didn't want to lose.  There were 3 clumps of pink rain lilies (Zephyranthes grandiflora) and, more problematically, several wild strawberry plants (Fragaria virginiana) that had spent the summer putting out runners and baby plants.  If I smothered the area with newspaper and mulch, it would be relatively easy, but I'd lose ALL of the plants in the area, including the ones I wanted to keep.

So I sat down on my rear and I weeded.  The weeds were primarily a mix of an 18" tall, rather airy plant with wiry stems that I haven't identified, doveweed (Murdannia nudiflora), chamberbitters (Phyllanthus urinaria, a.k.a. gripeweed, for my Mobile friends), Asiatic hawksbeard (Youngia japonica), mock strawberry (Duchesnea  indica), Florida pusley (Richardia scabra), and Virginia buttonweed (Diodia virginiana).  For seasoning, there was a little bit of dollarweed (Hydrocotyle umbellata), the dainty Carolina ponysfoot (Dichondra carolinensis), and a variety of sedges (Carex spp.) thrown in.

The photo above is a single stem of Virginia buttonweed, surrounded by lots of doveweed.  Lovely, isn't it?  (Yes, that's sarcasm.)  At least it was mostly green.  Anyway, of all the weeds, only about half the species were native:  Virginia buttonweed, Florida pusley, dollarweed, Carolina ponysfoot, and probably most of the sedges.  I don't know about the unidentified, 18" "wiry" weed.  Most of the biomass was doveweed, the wiry unknown, and Virginia buttonweed.

Anyway, as I sat there on the ground, hour after hour, I not only got to know the plants quite well, but I also got to see some of the "denizens of the dirt", those little creatures who live their entire lives in our gardens but that we rarely see or notice.  A few of these little creatures sat still long enough for me to photograph, so I thought I'd share them with you....

First off, I am going to cheat just a little.  I saw one skink in this area as I was working, but I didn't get a photograph of that particular individual.  I did get a photo of another one of the same species a few days earlier, so I'll share the photo that I have.

This is a ground skink (Scincella lateralis) and it was probably about 5" long, which is about as large as ground skinks get.  Apparently they are the commonest skink in Florida gardens, but they are rather hard to see, as they move very rapidly through the undergrowth and leaf litter.  When I am working in an established bed, I often catch a glimpse of a little brown lizard skittering away.  I assume those are other ground skinks, exhibiting their getaway skills.

A toad was the only other vertebrate that I flushed out as I weeded, although certainly birds and other vertebrates must have foraged in the area from time to time.  This little guy...

...seemed to be missing his right rear leg.  An injury?  Some sort of genetic defect?  Hard to tell.  Surprisingly to me, there are only 4 species of toads in Florida.  I think this is a southern toad (Bufo terrestris), the most common species, but I am not completely certain.


Rather unexpectedly, there were two large caterpillars amidst this unprepossessing mass of vegetation.  The first one was an odd looking "woolly bear" type, with coal black hair and bright red segments that showed when it curled up in its defensive position.  I've seen lots of woolly bears before, but never one colored like this.

According to BugGuide, this is the caterpillar for the giant leopard moth (Hypercompe scribonia).  I've never seen an adult, but the BugGuide photos look stunning and I will certainly be looking for one now that I know it obviously occurs in our yard.

The second large caterpillar fell out of a handful of weeds that I had pulled, but by observing it for a couple minutes as it got back to eating, I believe it was munching determinedly on Virginia buttonwood.

Despite this guy's 3-4 inch long size and distinctive markings, he was a little hard to identify.  Nothing seemed to fit when I scanned the hornworm photos at BugGuide, so I eventually turned to Caterpillars of Eastern North America, by David L. Wagner, where I was able to figure out what I was seeing.  This is the caterpillar of the Tersa Sphinx (Xylophanes tersa), another striking moth species that I've never seen before.  The link is to the node at BugGuide, where you can see photos of both the caterpillars and the adults.

I photographed two other caterpillars, both much smaller.  One was a hairy individual that I haven't tried to identify yet....

while the other was an early instar of yet another sphinx moth, about an inch long, also currently unidentified.

There were lots of little, round snails, maybe 1/4" in diameter...

...and one large, conical snail whose shell was at least an inch in length.

While I saw many green stinkbug nymphs, I only saw this one adult stinkbug.

While I'm not completely sure, I think this is Euschistus crenator, a species that feeds on sedges.  Probably the green nymphs were of a different species.

There were several small, longhorned grasshoppers, ....

but no shorthorned grasshoppers of any size, which is a major change from gardening in Kansas.

There were also a lot of small spiders.  I only took the time to photograph this one, which was slightly larger than most.  I think it is a wolf spider, but I don't know the species yet.

Last, but hardly least, there were a lot of roaches running around.  I didn't try to photograph any of them, assuming they were wood roaches which help to decompose organic matter.  I saw this one, though, that was different and obviously an adult.  It was trying to get away through the grass and "posing", so I did take a couple minutes to get a few photos.  Imagine my dismay just now as I worked to identify it and realized it is probably a non-native, Surinam Cockroach (Pycnoscelus surinamensis) .  If so, according to BugGuide, it has the interesting characteristic of reproducing entirely by parthenogenesis in the U.S. - no males have ever been found.

As I worked and noted all of the small creatures living among the weeds I was pulling out, I found myself feeling guilty for destroying the habitat that was obviously providing food and shelter for such a large variety of little animals.  I'm trying to placate myself by remembering that I will be planting a variety of native perennials and shrubs in the area this fall, all tucked in with a nice layer of leaf and wood chip mulch...but the dismay is still there, simmering in the background.  Forgive me, little ones.  I really AM trying to create a healthy habitat for all in our yard and gardens.

Tall Grass Clumps By Lake - Weed or Not?

Over the course of the last year, Greg and I have been watching clumps of grass growing down by the lake on the lowest terrace.  He's been after me to get rid of them, arguing that they are weeds;  I've been resisting, feeling that they may be good plants with structural and wildlife value.  They do seem to form discrete clumps and the clumps are quite graceful and attractive.

I haven't been able to find a good grass site to identify them, however, and I don't have a good grass book for reference either.  The above photos were taken in early May.

This photo, of the ligule and sheath, was taken in early April.

For some reason, today has been the day that this identification problem has suddenly felt critical.  I e-mailed the local horticulture agent with the photos of the grass from April and May, but I haven't heard back from him.  So I started to write this blog post, asking for help from the blogging community.  Before I did that, however, I decided that I needed current  photos.

So I went down by the lake and took them.

Here's a different clump of the same species, showing the overall structure, ....

here are the ligules and sheaths,...

and here are the seed heads.

Upon looking at the pictures of the seed heads closely, my mind suddenly told me, "Paspalum."   It didn't tell me which Paspalum, though, so I went to the USDA Plant Profile Database and looked up the genus, checking the ranges given and photographs, if any.

I am sad to report that Greg was probably correct.

I am now pretty certain that this grass is Vasey Grass, Paspalum urvillei.  It is a native of South America and is considered invasive in Hawaii.  It is fairly widespread across the southern U.S. (not including Arizona and New Mexico) and is becoming a problem pasture weed in the Florida panhandle.

A weed is a plant that's out of place - and Vasey Grass is out of place in my yard.

So I've got some hot, sweaty work that needs to be done:  cutting off and bagging all the seedheads before the seeds drop, then rooting out the plants and freeing the soil for other, more desireable species.

On the plus side, though, I really like how the tall clump grass looks along the water's edge.  Now, what more desireable species can I plant there?

Weeds: What Are They Good For?

It just doesn't seem fair.  When you clean a surface, it ought to stay clean, unless you put something on it that dirties it.  Right?!  So why is it that, after you've worked hard to weed a flower bed or vegetable garden and you have a beautifully pristine expanse of bare soil in between each plant, the weeds show back up?  Seemingly like magic!  Sometimes they seem to spring up overnight.

These weedy interlopers are unwanted and they crowd out the plants that you want to grow!  Isn't this a design flaw in nature?!

Well, actually, no, there's a very good reason for this to happen in nature.  Weeds are nature's way of "preserving its capital", to use economic terms.  So what do I mean by "capital"?

In an ecosystem, soil is one of the most important resources available and one of the hardest resources to manufacture.  Originally soil formed from bedrock.  It takes thousands of years for soil to form:  soil formation involves the slow action of water and weather (especially the freeze/thaw cycle), acids from lichens, and eventually, organic debris and the action of plant roots.  Soil is NOT a substance that it's wise to waste, because its replacement takes thousands of years.

Enter most "weeds".  What we consider weeds are usually fast growing plants that produce thousands and thousands of seeds which transport readily, in a variety of ways, and which require sunlight and open soil to germinate and grow.  Once established in a good spot, these plants will reproduce rapidly and repeat the cycle of producing thousands and thousands of easily transportable seeds.  What's the point of this process?

Well, these same plants' seeds and seedlings cannot compete in a crowded, shaded location.  In a setting like that - a more established setting - they get outcompeted by other plants that don't have to start from scratch every year.  Plants like perennials, with well established roots that can send up tall stalks in a short period of time and dominate the sunlight, will outcompete them.  Plants like shrubs and trees whose roots are not only established, but that can leaf out and block the sunlight seemingly overnight each spring, will outcompete them.

In fact, if you stop to think about it, if humans do nothing to a piece of land, the vegetation changes through the years in a fairly predictable pattern.  First, the open ground gets covered with "weeds", often a mix of annual grasses and annual, broad-leafed, flowering plants.  Pretty soon, a few perennials start to show up and establish themselves and, before long, there are some seedlings from woody plants beginning to grow.  As the perennials and woody seedlings grow up, the "weeds" that need full sunlight and open soil, so that they can start from scratch every year, start disappearing.  Eventually, the vegetation continues to change until only plants that can germinate and grow in shady, crowded conditions dominate.  This entire process is called ecological succession; the final types of vegetation that will grow in an area are known as the "climax vegetation."

So what happens if the climax vegetation gets removed?  Succession begins again - with the "weeds" whose seeds are easily transportable showing up.  Their job, if you will, is to hold the soil in place until more permanent vegetation can take over and maintain the capital, a.k.a. the soil, that has built up over thousands of years.

The more the soil is disturbed, the more "weeds" will appear.

What we are doing when we garden or farm is to continually remove the perennial vegetation and take the soil back to its most vulnerable state - bare and open.  Nature wants to stabilize that soil as soon as possible, so that the soil doesn't wash or blow away.  In come the weeds.

The gardener - or farmer - cusses the weeds and clears the soil again, so that ONLY the plant he/she wants to grow will be there.  But rarely is the desired plant able to fill the cleared space rapidly enough and completely enough to truly stabilize the soil.  So in come the weeds again.  And the cycle continues.

Along the roadside, this mix of plains coreopsis, cheat, wheat stubble and field weeds is composed of essentially all annual plants.  The wheat was desired; the rest of the mix is considered "weeds", at least to the farmer.  Why is it all growing here?  Because the soil has been exposed recently and nature is trying to stabilize it.

If you widen the view to take in the entire ditch, you see that where the soil hasn't been plowed or opened by herbicide action recently, a mix of perennials is growing:  butterfly milkweed and various prairie grasses in this case.  It's far from perfect, since frequent low mowing often opens up soil, encouraging other, early successional, "weedy", plants to move in.

The moral of my tale?  Understand what nature is trying to accomplish with "weeds" and plan accordingly.  Learn to work WITH nature, rather than fighting against it.  Mulching between plants, for example, helps tremendously because it covers (and helps stabilize) the soil.  Mowing high (or not mowing at all) is likely to leave much less soil exposed and thus make an area less amenable to "weed" growth.

Why do I keep putting the word, "weed," in quotes?  Because a weed is simply a plant in the wrong place.  To nature, bare soil is a form of an emergency and what we humans call "weeds" are nature's emergency response team.  Therefore, to nature, annuals are important...and aren't weeds at all.

A Great "New" Reference on Weeds

Two days ago, the Wichita Chapter of the Kansas Native Plant Society had a native plant seed exchange and sharing time, to which I was invited.  (Well, truthfully, the entire public was invited.  I was also asked to share a little information about Sedgwick County Extension, and I brought along some native plant seeds and seedlings to share.)  It was an enjoyable gathering, as such gatherings of like-minded people often are, and it was a good place to meet people with similar interests, to learn about programs and plants that I wasn't familiar with, and - hopefully - to find new and useful reference material.

I was indeed lucky this time.  Krista Dahlinger, as the official representative of KNPS, was selling some books for the organization, including Weeds of the Great Plains, published by the Nebraska Department of Agriculture, most recently in 2003.

Somehow I've managed to miss this book before, and I wish I hadn't.  It has full page, color photos of each main "weed" that it covers, plus a couple smaller photos, also in color, highlighting important characteristics.  There is a line drawing for each plant as well, giving a sense of its structure.  For me, as a homeowner/wildlife enthusiast/gardener/native plant geek/prairie restorer/Master Gardener, the most important parts were in the brief, well organized descriptions. 

These descriptions included the origin of each species (whether native or not; if not, where it was from), and the standard descriptions of growth form, height, flowers, leaves, stems and so forth.  Then there was a section "Where Found" which included habitat information, as well as the states and general areas the plant was found within the Great Plains region.

The next section, "Uses and Values", was a little heavy on the value for livestock (not too surprising, in a book put out by an ag department) but it also included wildlife value and occasional decorative or landscape uses. 

A separate section on the potential for livestock poisoning was occasionally also included, which got EXTREMELY detailed.  Sometimes this section seemed to get overly cautious, to the point where I began to understand a stockman's tendency to just say, "The heck with it!", and spray broad-leaved herbicides everywhere.  Note:  I hate that practice and feel it is entirely inappropriate...but reading this book and its huge number of cautions, I begin to understand the attitude a little more.

One of the last several sections about each plant was often "Historical", giving uses by Native Americans and early settlers for native plants and even, for non-native plants, sometimes going back to Europe or Asia to tell about the plant's usage in its country of origin.

"Losses" was another section occasionally included.  This section highlighted financial losses that could occur (and why they would occur) if the plant under discussion was a major or regular component of the vegetation.  For example, several of the plants that produced burs reduced the value of wool being sold.

The last concluding section was often "Similar Species", which highlighted other species related to the primary one being discussed.  Although these descriptions were brief, they were accurate and accessible; more than once I was able to identify a plant through its mention in this section, even though I was just leafing through the book.

Some tips I picked up?  Well, I've been trying to identify this little vine that I've seen growing for some years in the draw - I learned that it is Climbing False Buckwheat (Polygonum scandens), a native, vining perennial.  It's considered quite beneficial for wildlife, although it can get aggressive and smother its neighbors when conditions are too perfect for it.  (Note:  I've had absolutely NO problem with climbing false buckwheat and, in fact, only notice it occasionally in the fall.)

I learned that the term "sumac" is derived from "shoe-make", referring to the tannic acid that this plant contains, which was used in tanning leather.  It's always bugged me when people refer to this group of plants as "shu-mac" - now I realize that they are just using a form of the name that is closer to its historical roots!

And the last bit I'll share (although far from the last tidbit I learned) is that marijuana is NOT native to North America.  I thought it was a native, since Jefferson grew it as a crop and since it grows wild in many places.  Marijuana is actually a native to Asia and it was first introduced onto the Great Plains in the 1880s.  It was grown legally as recently as World War II, for hemp production, and it has escaped - naturalized - into the wild.  (No, I don't have any photos of marijuana!)

It can be hard to find good, reliable information on "weeds", and I feel like I've found it in this book.  If you live in the Great Plains, I highly recommend Weeds of the Great Plains as a great reference about a maligned group of plants.
  

Spanish Needles

You'd think that the name would have been enough to warn me.

It didn't, however, and it probably won't stop me in the future either.  Hopefully, in the future, though, I'll be a little more careful about limiting my exposure!

What am I talking about?  Why Bidens bipinnata, Spanish needles, of course.

You see, when this plant starts growing each spring, it is beautiful.  It is a deeply satisfying green, with foliage that gives the impression of ferns.  Maxing out at around 24" tall, while handling heat and drought without blinking, for most of the summer Spanish needles looks like the perfect plant for prairie gardens.  Around these parts, we need plants with pretty foliage - too many of our prairie plants have medium green leaves, of a medium size, on a medium to large plant.  Grasses provide the primary contrast, but trust me when I say they can quickly get to be too much of a good thing.   Ferns soften.  Soft green, ferny leaves enrich and brighten.  So ferny plants that don't melt away in heat and sun have an almost irresistible allure for me.

A tiny crack in this plant's perfection starts to form when it starts to bloom, sometime around mid July.  This gloriously ferny, sweet green, luscious mound of plantness puts forth dinky, insignificant flowers with tiny, yellow petals, many of which appear to be missing.  Oh, well, I tell myself, the foliage is still gorgeous!  If the blooms are not glamorous, at least they don't detract from that rich and wonderful foliage.

Before I know it, the seed heads are forming and are being pushing upward, on ever lengthening stems, to the outer reaches of the plant.  At first they look attractive, rather like green fireworks.  Ah, here is the beautiful bloom at last!

Then the seeds actually start to dry and mature.  Their color changes from green to black.  The base of the old flower dries out and its hold on the seeds loosens considerably.

Suddenly, every time I pass near one of the plants, I find that I have several long, black, needle-like seeds attached to my jeans...or my shorts...or my skin.  If I brush against them the wrong way, the darn things HURT!  They truly do feel like needles, trying to puncture me in their need for a new resting place.

Now, every time Becker and Blue go out, they come back covered with those same little, black needles that seem intent on burrowing deep into their fur.  The needles drop off onto the floor, ready to impale unsuspecting, bare feet.  Sometimes I even have to pick them out of the dogs' coats before I can simply give one of the dogs a pat on the head without skewering myself.  Small bowls full of Spanish needles start appearing on my countertops.

Meanwhile, outside, the plants have suddenly gone from glorious, ferny green to scraggly brown...weeds.  When I go to pull them out, battling the heat and drought just so that the poor dogs will quit coming inside with their fur full of these little weapons, I find that the plants aren't shy about puncturing my hide from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet.  It turns out that it's impossible to pull the dead stems of Spanish needles out of the ground without brushing various parts of my anatomy up against those fragile and determined seed heads!


"Carry me away from here!" the seeds plead, while clinging tightly, sometimes painfully, to my clothes and skin and hair.  "We're done here!  We need some place fresh to establish next year!"

Oblivious to their cries, irritated by their insistence, I can't wait to get all of the Bidens bipinnata plants pulled up and carted out to the burn pile.  Clinginess can be so darn unattractive!

So will I let Spanish needles grow up again next year?  Greg will tell me I'm nuts if I do.  He'll tell you I'm nuts, too!

Well, Greg knows me pretty well.  I probably will let the Spanish needles grow again next spring.  The lure of the beautiful, fresh green foliage is just so strong in the spring and early summer.  Next year, though, I promise myself I'll pull them up as soon as the flowers bloom!

Or at least as soon as the seed heads start pushing out to the plants' perimeter.  Assuming, of course, that the heat and drought don't have me totally boxed up inside....