Studiology

National Daughter's Day and Birthday

Everyday is a special day of some kind or another. Bean day, cream puff, and bloody Mary day are all legitimate. I happened to be spending the day with my daughter on National Daughter's Day to celebrate her upcoming birthday, which is today, and it was especially wonderful given the pandemic and restrictions. The grandchildren had grown and little Juniper's conversational skills were highly elevated. 

We ventured to their little creek with sand banks and discovered bladdernut seed pods from the Staphylea trifolia tree, a native that is abundant on their property. The pods are inflated, possibly designed to float and spread beyond the parent plant, which began a morning of sending bladdernut pods afloat down the creek. Felicity would gather them, split the seams and create little floating cups for each individual seed with her sister Juniper.

Quinn was mildly interested, but we all had a great laugh as we watched them swirl and sometimes get caught in a mini Bermuda triangle, the source for more questions and lessons in things they were unfamiliar with. Names were thrown out, the Nina, the Pinta and Santa Maria, lessons they had already learned and applied to their tiny cupped pods. 

For the occasion Juniper built a cake out of sand as Quinn simply marked the sand.

Our last exercise was tying single seeds into alternative vessels to send them along their way.  A single piece of raffia was all we needed to craft these little cradles, secured for a venture that might take them far, or not far at all.

Two days away was the perfect getaway and one that I highly recommend in these crazy times. It's so much better than a phone call. And for my daughter, Happy Birthday, enjoy your day!

Gardening, it's Busy Work

My garden deserves a big thank-you, it's needy, requires weeding, watering, and deadheading. In return I receive rewards that are innumerable, some of which are small, even difficult to define. This year's greatest gift might be the simple escape from reality, a place to lose your mind. Even when the weeding battle appears impossible, like fighting mulberry weed (Fatoua villosa), it becomes a physical and emotional absorption and then a feeling of small gains and taking care of business. People that run, those that take on moderate distances, achieve what is called a runner's high when endorphins are released. The gardener has several "gardener's highs", maybe minor when compared to an endorphin rush, but entirely satisfying.

By September we are on the downside of active seasons in the garden with fall fast approaching. The rewards may be fewer, but they keep coming. My small shady walkway recently erupted with the flowers of cyclamen (Cyclamen hederifolium), where they have naturalized and grown happy. Like a sweep of newness, they are delightful. Ants spread the seed to sunlit areas, their preferred space to grow, free of threatening weeds. The season for cyclamen has just begun and evergreen leaves will follow to occupy winter. The arrival of cyclamen marks a new chapter, a nod to continuance, despite the tiredness of plants around them. The gardener may break out in a joyful dance to the tune of "Happy" (by Pharrell Williams), thankful for the ants and a job well done in their role as seed distributors. So desirable are the seeds to ants, each one coated in a gel-like substance designed specifically to entice the pickup and mobility, that it's nearly impossible to harvest any for yourself. I add this only to inform the gardener as they are easy to grow from seed and can be a special gift to a gardening friend that might like a late summer boost.

In the same garden and not far, the bright yellow sternbergia flowers (sometimes known as a fall crocus) are also just arriving, their foliage went dormant as the pandemic began, they've been asleep ever since. Nothing has changed in their world, the response to shortening days and cooler temperatures mean grow, it's time. Underground bulbs are the wellspring for food that was captured when winter leaves were active, the summer slumber seems odd but here we are, grateful for another spot of color as days grow shorter. For three years I paired the yellow flowers with the incredible blue of 'True Blue' gentian but sadly the gentian did not survive the drought. I might try again.

Once again there comes the preoccupation, planning, and scheming for the next season or year. It's a good place to be, a distraction if you need it.

Penned Up

As a gardener, particularly one that takes care of private gardens, I'm feeling penned up. No conferences to inspire, no overnighters to gardens to reinvigorate, no lunches with friends to tune up your creativity; I'm feeling the gardening blues. 

July was the game changer with it's high temperatures and no rain. At least August was better and September weather has been good enough. But the rain, the rot, the weeds, and knowing there's still a lot that has to be done, isn't easing the situation. Call it pandemic blues, which has fueled so much of this. 

So once again I turn to my night garden, which is remarkable this year. The night garden, slash pollinator garden is successful in many ways. Monarchs have had a good year, they've moved from chrysalis to butterfly with no obvious damage from tachinid flies. The brugmansias have been gorgeous, maybe better known as angel trumpets. Each evening the fragrance lifts the spirit, which is coming from moonvine, datura, night blooming cereus, and jasmine. 

I created a little video as I'm walking through the night garden. The gimble head holding my phone is a bit jumpy and seems to pulse, but at least the idea of walking into the garden is there as plants have enjoyed the summer, what's missing is the fragrance!. Click this link to watch:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=giI8QAnSRF4

To further illuminate that garden space, here are some photographs.

The honeybees stay up late, way after their bedtime, to enjoy the datura.

I hope you and your garden are hanging in there. We could be fighting fires, or feeling the anguish of 9/11, or the lose of lives from Covid 19, so it could be worse, much worse. Take care, do some weeding or call a gardening friend and talk about that awful weed. In my case it's Fatoua villosa or crabweed, I'm sure you have some too.

 

 

Another Ending

Eight and a half years ago I began my guinea chapter in a blog and sadly it's over. The last one, Honeynut (as the grandchildren named him) disappeared. Two recent visits by a fox probably tells it all, even though I did my best to scare the fox with yelling and chasing. For such a small pet, that guinea had a huge presence and the yard seems so quiet. Too many times to count, he has survived owl attacks and fox predation. I couldn't say how old he was, but even if it was only 5 years, that's an accomplishment considering he lived on his own and was not penned up. Snow blizzards, 0 degree nights, and frigid cold rains were all endured in the great outdoors where he roosted in various trees at night. We even put in a stack of large logs to help him get up into the lowest branches of his favorite tree because he was struggling to make it in one attempt. There will be no more, the exercise of raising guineas is no easy task and I wish all of those that do (and love them like I do) the best of luck. What wonderful creatures.

  

The Tomato Summer

It seems like only yesterday that some of us celebrated the arrival of summer with the equinox. Today I worry about the end of my delicious tomato crop as we look at September. Frost may be 6 to 8 weeks away but tomatoes love warm soil and warm days. 

I did manage to accomplish some new skills, driven by the need with my vegetable harvests. I canned tomatoes, something you might think is old hat for me, but alas - no. It's recommended that they are canned with a hot water bath due to their acidity so I have avoided the process, which is also very time consuming. And speaking to the process, I collected fruit and covered most of the table and kitchen counter, lined up my cans, boiled and sterilized everything, boiled gallons and gallons of water in a huge pot only to have 4 quarts. Good grief! Although I will add that I peeled the skin and removed the majority of the seed, which shrinks the fruit down a lot. These are 4 precious quarts. Hopefully more to come.

My other accomplishment is making tortillas from corn flour, a simple procedure and well worth it. In Mexico a fresh tortilla has a slightly soft center and they are always made from corn rather than wheat. The shelf life is short so I am playing around with freezing some. Heuvos rancheros have been the daily breakfast for over a month as I make a chunky salsa once or twice a week to accomplish this. The poblano ancho pepper is my choice to add in the salsa for a delicious, slightly hot pepper. 

My dwarf, open pollinated tomatoes were grown from seed and 90% true to name. I also participated in the Dwarf Tomato Project and grew 5 numbered hybrids to test and taste. By and large these were successful with a dwarf habit, good taste, and interesting fruit. 

One hybrid was from the Beastly family and out produced all others with yellow, round to pointed fruit, and a gorgeous little pink circle in the center when cut. 

The fruit from the Freezy family hybrids were gorgeous with stripes. The seed cavities were small and the taste was good, more on the tart or "real tomato" scale.

Larger and also very colorful were the Ivalde family tomatoes. Sweet, as I like them, and a decent producer.

My top producer is 'Big Brandy' and this year I picked a 2 pounder!

The taste is super on this hybrid and last year it was the last to produce which I hope is the case as it was the first to give me fruit this year. Notes have been taken to determine what will be grown next year, seed has been collected, and plans to grow more in 2021. MORE!

Old Favorites

In my span as a gardener and a grower, it is interesting to note where the perennial world has gone in terms of new plants. Some that were once popular are no longer available at local nurseries, even though they may have been the single most favored by wise gardeners some ten or fifteen years ago. I have a few theories, none of which devalue those lovely and much missed choices from the good old days.

 One speculation is height or growing habit; a sprawling perennial may not perform or look great in a one-gallon container, or for that matter, in a three-gallon container, so they are pegged as inventory that doesn't sell. Sadly, if the gardener has not seen how effective they may be in a garden setting, they can't imagine the greatness. Here I highlight Salvia azurea (once referred to as Salvia pitcheri), which seems to have completely disappeared from sight. Reminiscing this spring, I ordered three plants online, and they are currently flowering amidst other established perennials, just as lovely as I remember. The blue flowers on weaving stems are a delightful surprise in late August. Salvia azurea is native to much of the mid and eastern United States, commonly known as pitcher sage, most likely from the large lower lip that functions as a landing pad for pollinators but looks like the spout on a pitcher. Available online, I purchased a seed strain known as 'Nekan' from an isolated population near Lincoln, Nebraska. Perhaps improved; larger flowers, stiffer stems, and hardier, it still flops around which is definitely an attribute when mixed with suitable partners. If the stems were to be cut for a couple of months prior to flowering, I suppose it might make a decent container plant, appearing bushier and sales worthy, although the meandering habit is best viewed in a garden setting.
Based on height alone, quite a few perennials are rarely available, most replaced by more compact hybrids and cultivars which are not always an improvement. And this leads me to my second theory, beyond the look of a plant in a one-gallon container, there is the patented cultivar that brings royalties for every plant sold. Joe-Pye weed or Eutrochium purpureum in now available as 'Baby Joe', 'Little Red', and 'Little Joe' (from Eutrochium dubium). The straight species, a locally abundant native wildflower can reach eight feet in height, something that is hard to offer in a container and patent free, essentially cutting out big producers from earning extra income. Other tallish perennials that have been reduced in height to feed the container and royalty market are summer phlox, asters, hardy hibiscus, and lilies.

If there is a third theory, it's the lack of knowledge on how spectacular these perennials are only because they only way to see them is in a garden setting. Rudbeckia maxima or the great coneflower is not only tall but produces glorious powder blue foliage. The stems will splay in every direction after the flowers finish, but gold finch love the seed.
Silphiums are another group of tall daisies for late summer, none of which are vertically challenged. Butterfly magnets and worthy, they need big space. It's rare to find them for sale on a nursery bench, sadly.

So if there is a moral to this story about the lose of great perennials, the gardener must visit public gardens like Green Spring, Meadowlark, Longwood, or Chanticleer to see what is missing at the garden centers. You may come away with a whole new list of "must haves" or as we used to joke - another plant for our lust list.

A Dream Preview

My October show is titled "The Dream Show" and every artist is questioning how to have a reception or show given the pandemic. October 24th has been chosen with hopes of some personal attendance in the gallery, but I will also plan on a live show of some sort. Quite a few pieces have been finished and I am building more. At one point I considered building some to replicate dreams I have but they seem so far fetched. As a for instance, last night I visited Morocco and toured the country side. One rabbit farmer was raising rabbits that look like fluffy, stuffed rabbits that don't exactly hop but flip, like summersaults. That was after I stole a car and was hopelessly lost until I started driving toward the city lights.

This may give you some indication of the lunacy that resides in my head and then creates this art work, so we will just leave it at that. The first piece was created with Mexican Folk-art in mind. I used to have a mirror with colorful metal flowers that surrounded the frame and I was trying to copy them as I remember how bright and cheerful it was. This is titled "Floral Dreams" and it is a big leap from my usual style.

I also created one titled "Daydreams" and it represents the four stages of daydreaming. First you are listening to someone or thing, a decision is made that maybe it's not that important. Your mind begins to leave the conversation and the volume of their voice diminishes. Flickers of other thoughts start to enter your mind, maybe something you have to do or memories of things you have done in the past. The third phase has you deep in the daydream with details that flicker like they were yesterday. In the fourth phase you can't hear anything they are saying, deeply involved in a memory. I used several alternatives to this; the vacation to Australia, seeing dolphins swimming, the dog chasing a large bird or the dog that never dies, and wants you to throw the ball one more time. The bottom piece looks like a person that is staring at you while you are repeatedly asked to answer a question you never heard. 

This next one is titled "Dream Flight" for when you have those amazing dreams where you fly. I tend to jump high and sort of fly, but on occasion I have actually flown. 

This piece is more in tune with my last show, but it came together for this one. The whole piece is over 30" tall, the whale's eyes are large glass eyes, human eyes. I even added little barnacles to the tail and flipper.

As it stands, the "meet the artist" is scheduled for October 24, from 2 to 4. The location is Art A La Carte Gallery or 310 Mill Street, Occoquan, VA. The show opens on October 1st and there will plenty of other dream pieces. I hope to see some of you but there will be a live show in case you can't make it, maybe that same day.  Items will be on the website as well; www.artalacartegallery.com. 

 

 

The Spider

After a couple of months of not checking my stealthcams, I ventured out to gather the SD cards and have a look. Of course I had to laugh when I found this, the entire lens had been covered with spider webbing. I'm sure it's the nest of a jumping spider, what a fitting (or not) place to put her babies, like a conspiracy against my efforts to spy on what's up on the farm. 

Never the less, I was able to see a lot of activity, prior to the "spider fog". In one case, a newborn fawn was left and others came to take a look. Are they aunts and uncles? Brothers and sisters?

The only reason I knew it was there came from the photographs afterwards of its first steps.

Most photographs are deer and turkeys (and of course rabbit, raccoon, skunk, and squirrel). The turkeys are some of my favorites.

The photograph prior showed a lone female walking along. Then come the puffed up Toms, inflated with masculinity. The black and white photographs are infrared which indicate it was still dark, but I love how they look.

The real surprise were the coyote pups, although they may be fox. I counted four.

And then the attack of the spider and complete obliteration, which took 4 hours.

The tiniest one gave the biggest impact. 

 

August

July was hot, ridiculously hot and dry! It was good that all events are shut down, I was home to water, every stinkin day. This last rain was gentle and delivered half of an inch, the garden soaked it in as did the frogs. 

My night garden is thriving, this year I planted 12 moonvines instead of just 1. All are poised to erupt. The thousand or so tadpoles are tiny frogs now. They are scattered throughout and I'm hoping they are eating aphids. The nicotiana, particularly N. sylvestris, is a magnet for aphids and this year they are clean, so I'm sure the frog babies are doing their job. 

The other aphid eater is probably this baby Carolina mantid, so small when compared to the Chinese mantid.

The difference can be seen in the speckles or camouflage of their skin (the Chinese mantid is a solid green or brown), and at least half their size.

I am growing a lot of Zinnia 'Queen Red Lime' and 'Queen Lime with Blush' which produce flowers that are works of art. The pink centers and variable pink or green on the petals is mesmerizing. 

Not only do I have the water containers with tadpoles that are graduating to adulthood, but I also have a water bowl that I call the bachelor pad. Every year I put water lettuce in because it's a shady spot and each year 1 frog moves in and lives the bachelor life. All manner of wildlife come to drink from that bowl and Mr. Bachelor has to hide to avoid becoming a snack for either the baby cooper hawks (yes we have 3 young ones again), or my guinea. Some days the water lettuce is askew and I can only imagine that someone was hunting my buddy. For 2 days he was MIA, but low and behold, today he is back. 

Just about every day he rides a water lettuce plant and I put the hose in his bowl so that the plants go round and round, much like a slow teacup ride at a carnival. I think he has come to expect this daily event and I know that I would miss him if he disappeared. 

Otherwise the tomatoes are ripening and many have been eaten. There will be another tomato log for this year as I have numerous numbered hybrids that look good. 

So despite the summer heat and July's lack of rain, it's wonderful to garden. I squealed when I found so many monarch caterpillars and all seemed fine when I discovered Mr. Bachelor was back, there is always entertainment, enough to keep the mind and body occupied.

 

Summer Symphony

Dependent on humidity and recent rain, my tree frogs are loudest at night, joined by the katydid who repeats katy-did, katy-didn't. Summer nights can be alarmingly noisy, yet it is something that registers in our sound library to the point of disregard. If summer nights became as quiet as winter, would we notice?

With the alarming drop in butterflies this summer, I am trying to pay attention to what else may be missing. The cicadas fill summer days with their rasp which is far from quiet. To me they may represent summer sound over all else. Katydids are elusive although plentiful if their call is any indication. They too produce a rasp by rubbing their forewings together. We may not hear the subtle vocabulary, but it addresses reproduction, territory, aggressive warnings and defensive ventriloquizing. The latter is the ability to send sound signals down a branch to hide their location. They are designed to mimic a leaf which is where they hide and feed, preferably high in trees or other suitable platforms. The calling begins in early evening and males are the real noise makers. Once while sitting in my night garden I heard a loud chewing sound, which came from a katydid chewing on the end of a papyrus flower. Not that there was a lot of lip smacking, just powerful mandibles that can chop solidly into thick foliage. I found it entertaining and memorable.

To actually hear the katy-did and didn't, you listen to the calls from near and far which sound like echo's. These calls are the reason for their name and our locally abundant species is the greater angle wing katydid or Pterophylla camellifolia, the species name referring to a camel and the similar hump on their back. Not good flyers, related to crickets (more so than grasshoppers), it is more like a partial jump and glide. Females are equipped with a curved ovipositor or egg laying structure which will deposit small brown discs on a branch or leaf to winter over and hatch in spring. Like most of our insects, freezing temperatures will kill adults in fall.

Maybe the craziest fact about katydids is the location of their ears, in the crook of their front legs, just below the knee. So placed to work in concert with vibration, all the better to aid with night activity. Their long antennae are another tool to sort out things that go bump in the night.

Virginia is home to numerous other katydid species, mostly smaller to half the size of our greater angle wing. As a common insect and a plentiful one, they do not account for much in the way of crop or garden damage. Leaf nibblers of mostly deciduous forests, their feeding can't be compared to the more destructible grasshopper or Japanese beetle.

With their all too familiar night noise I still encourage you to listen and appreciate. It tells the gardener that the day is almost over and the night symphony is about to begin.