Studiology

Weed Smarts

The daily routine of weeding is constant. The process teaches us a lot about the tenacity of weeds. If they don’t explode, they catch on your clothes, fly in the wind or arm themselves with thorns. In fact weeds are so good at spreading their seed that modern inventions have been designed from studying the whys and wherefores of seed dispersal. Good examples are Velcro, devised from the seed of cockle burr and the stealth bomber which mimics the seeds of an Asian climbing gourd, Alsomitra macrocarpa.

 

During the fall there always seems to be more weeding than the gardener can keep up with.  A necessary tactic is to understand their means of procreation and attempting to put a halt to it. The yellow sorrel or oxalis will send its seeds in a showery explosion as soon as you touch it. The best method of eradication is to grab as much of the plant as possible with a clenched fist and tug till the plant is uprooted. The same tactic works for penny-cress (Thlaspi arvense), a cool season weed with tiny seeds that launch themselves as far as 16 feet.

 

When plants spread their seeds by flinging them away from the parent plant, it is called mechanical dispersal. Rain drops are frequent triggers, which aids germination with added moisture. Temperature can also be a factor; this is how hamamelis or witch hazel spread their seeds. The pods are made up of two compartments, each filled with one seed. The warmth of late summer pops the seed pod open, flinging the seeds far away from the mother plant. Our local impatiens, Impatiens capensis also known as touch-me-not, or jewel weed is a well-known native with small turnip shape exploding seed pods.

 

Prongs or hooks are another strategy, moving the plant away from the parent by riding on a passing animal. This method is known as passive mechanical dispersal. Bidens or two-pronged tick-seed is common in Virginia and readily comes to mind. Its ability to latch on is remarkable, evident with tiny, black spears that grab onto jacket, sweater, even hair. The flowers produced by this aster relative are bright yellow and fill unmown fields in late summer. That along with lavender asters and little bluestem make for an attractive wildflower meadow, yet all are capable of producing seed that can latch on.

 

As we move into fall, the warm and cool season weeds join in unison, an added punch when the gardener may be tired from a long, hot summer. Many of the problematic weeds are pioneers or light germinators, which simply means that the seed requires light to germinate. When strewn on the ground, they sprout readily, attempting to outgrow neighboring plants. These same seeds will not sprout if they believe they are underground or in the dark. Those smart little seed brain cells are saying that the area is occupied, no vacancies here if they don't see or sense light. One way to discourage pioneers is to lay 5 or so layers of newspaper over the offenders and weigh it down with mulch. If your weeds have sprouted and are taller, cut them back and then layer the paper and mulch. This will effectively thwart their growth, at least until the paper disintegrates. The seeds of this group of plants are patient, waiting for years, perhaps centuries until conditions are just right, but at least this is a way to regain ground you felt was lost. 

  

A Review

This summer is dry, hot and dry. Last year was so different, a real contrast and hard to believe they can be back to back. The garden needs water this year, the frogs need their pools filled and my night garden is extra thirsty. At least July has passed and August will eventually see a dip in night temperatures as we approach September. August is the month of morning fog, the month for moon vine and brugmansia and lots of fresh tomatoes. For that I am excited.

The guinea is still alive and the cooper hawk fledglings have left. The daily conversations between each hawk eventually ceased and one by one they flew away. I don't think my plastic owl contributed and nobody seemed to even notice him. Especially the guinea, who has yet to raise an alarm at the plastic owl that hoots randomly in the middle of hot days, and has eyes that blink bright yellow. 

The daily wisteria experiment, which began in mid April, is still ongoing. Every week I cut all of the new growth and I have not measured the growth from week to week, but it may still match or come close to five inches a day. My intent was to weaken a monster plant, one that is overreaching with large trunks that have rooted and risen to form a thicket. The reaction from my daily wisteria slashing was to launch into flower, or at least attempt to. Once again I chopped off every flower, thinking it's trying to placate me with something pretty, which of course is not based on any science. My horticultural theory is one of survival, if the wisteria believes it can't spread with new growth then maybe it can with seed. The longest wisps of new growth occur where there is a potential branch to climb up. Like the plant is seeing, which is easily explained from a sunlight perspective, less sunlight with an overhanging branch (hence the elongation). I like to think it is seeing and studies have shown that climbing plants can and do see to grab hold for support. With this belief I begin my daily cutting with a brief strut, a walk down and back, directly in front of the wisteria so it has time to "see" me. I then lift my clippers to make sure it knows what comes next. My hope is that it will "bend the knee", or at least wilt a bit. As you might imagine, none of this has happened. 

In other news, I am flying today to Sister Bay, Wisconsin. A long weekend will include some botanizing and art viewing. The day temperatures there are 76 degrees with a drop into the low 60's at night. I will be in Door County which is the little finger of land that extends up into the Great Lakes. It's cherry picking time and the location and source for the best sour cherries to make cherry bounce. A odd priority you might think, flying halfway across the country to pick cherries? Well let's just say "The proof of the pudding is in the eating" or drinking (in this case). The results will be known in November and I have high expectations.

A Guinea Summer

Not even talking about the heat, it's just a busy time of year. In the garden it's a watering, deadheading, weeding, and oh, watching butterflies. There are also the extraneous things like birthday parties, Cullowhee Native Plant Conference, and serving as a bodyguard to the guinea. In this last duty, my serious job of protection, I can share the background story. 

In late winter 2 cooper hawks built a nest in a large white pine behind the garage. A bit chatty at first, in time they became so quiet that I thought maybe they had abandoned their nest. In early summer I heard the first vocalizations of the young and could hear them flapping around as they bounced from limb to limb. In time I learned that there were 3, one much smaller than the other 2. They vocalize all day long, triangulating where each one is, it's a constant during the day. They have grown quickly in the last month and are close to the size of the parents. Since they have seen me come and go on a regular basis, they pay me little mind. It's not uncommon to find them sitting on the roof, or on the posts for the cloths line, which causes the guinea to yell in terror and me to jump up from whatever I'm doing to defend him, he is the last one. Cooper hawks are not the largest hawk, but one of the fastest and they have spent a lot of time learning to glide and then go faster. 

Yesterday was the first attempt at a real attack on the guinea, which I thwarted just in time. This is my survivor, and he has aged to a mellow sort of fellow who follows me everywhere, unless Duke the yellow lab is there, then he follows him. He stays close to the house and survived 2 owl attacks in early spring, one of which was a hit but only resulted in some lost feathers. The last hit was at 2 in the morning and he actually came into the house and let me close the door. He slept on the floor and I crawled back into bed. For any guinea owner, this is hard to believe, they regard themselves as wildly independent.

My recent concern over the hawks and my worry over the guinea's survival prompted a friend to suggest a fake owl to scare the hawks. It seems wrong, very wrong, but I can't be there every time the little raptors want to test their strength. And I will add that everyday with my last guinea has been one I'm grateful for, we have become best buddies.

Here he is drinking out my garden water bowl, which was the same watering hole for the 3 young hawks only half an hour prior.

So fake owl it is. The deluxe version, it's solar powered with a motion detector. If anything sets off the motion detector, the eyes light up and some digital owl sounds follow (hardly scary but what do I know). Now, all is quiet but the guinea hasn't seen it yet. The night is young.

Deadheading

A gardener's summer is filled with deadheading. In my case, I'm consumed by it, a daily activity, the act of keeping things tidy. As much as anyone understands deadheading, the principle is simple; to remove a finished flower or seed pod to encourage energy to flow back into the plant, hastening new growth. As simple as it sounds, it's a bit complex. Annuals and perennials are the primary subjects of deadheading, although shrubs like butterfly bush and roses are freer flowering if spent blooms are removed.

Annuals, true annuals such as sunflowers, zinnias, and marigolds may be left to seed, the latter volunteers generally inferior to the parent plant, which are the result of careful breeding. Most of the time sunflowers are grown for the birds, the seeds allowed to ripen fully with a smattering of seedlings returning; the birds never seem to consume them all. Zinnias rarely seed for me, but I am judicious at cutting them for flower arrangements, a form of deadheading and encouraging more flowers. Marigolds do respond to a regular cleaning or removal of spent flowers, it does encourage more, this the gardener learns from doing. 

Perennials often require a little homework, only because there are vastly different plants lumped together into one category. Those with umbelled flowers such as fennel or parthenium are short lived or biennial. With the aim of absolute seed removal, you've closed the door to future generations because this year's flowers may be the last the plant will produce. Other short lived perennials include columbine, linum, gaillardia, and campion, all of which require a bit of seeding to return.

Big flowering bulbs like lilies are better with deadheading, but only high on the plant, allowing foliage to cure or restore the bulb to a healthy state for next year. Daylilies are deadheaded every day and routinely cut to the ground as the show ends. Since they are not bulbs, there is no harm in the removal of foliage and it sets them up for a surge of new leaves that remain handsome into fall. 

Phlox and bee balm are not only deadheaded but also cut to the ground (6" or less). The resurgence of new growth is most welcome and richly green. Coneflower poses a bit of a conundrum, the fancy hybrids will seed and the subsequent seedlings will be inferior to the expensive plant you purchased. The majority of seedlings will grow into thigh high purple daisies, which is certainly fine, but you may have been better off just buying Echinacea purpurea, or E. laevigata and allowing them to spread at will. With the fancy ones, I do deadhead, with their expensive price tag; my aim is to keep them true. One exception is a seed strain named E. 'Cheyenne Spirit', the idea was to allow them to volunteer, which they will do in a wonderful array of colors. 

Sometimes the seeds are too pretty to remove. My first thought goes to the ornamental onions, so handsome are the seed heads that garden art has been created to imitate them. Other plants with glorious seed heads are nigella or love in a mist (annual), ornamental grasses, milkweed (my humble opinion), and most poppies. Leaving them is decision best made with some knowledge of how much and how far they will spread. Like I said, it's complex.

Case # 477

The call came from the Blue Ridge Wildlife Center that my turtle's fractured jaw had healed and he needed to go back home. Since this was  a difficult rescue and the scariest one of my life, I have spent some time plotting on how to take him home. The request for relocation is no more than a quarter mile from where they are found and headed in the direction they seemed to be traveling. I managed to scoop him up from Route 50  (April 28th) where it's 3 lanes of fast moving traffic and I was only successful because he was on his back and on the white line of 2 lanes. Figuring out where he was going was pretty simple, the land he lived on had become great big storage facilities, he was looking for an escape (or so I believe), but Chantilly would not be considered a good habitat by a long stretch. 

I settled on Cub Run Creek which appears to be surrounded by wetlands and won't be developed. It's more like a mile from his original haunt, but the kind folks at Blue Ridge pulled up a map of the area and we determined that it was the safest place. I even brought some tomato hornworms, specifically the ones that had parasitic wasp eggs on them. I figured a slow torturous death is worse than today's turtle food. 

His case was EBT 19-477, which I'm sure means Eastern Box Turtle, year 2019 and the 477th one?! 

The spot I placed him was overrun with poison ivy, so probably not visited much by humans. The creek was nearby and a plane from Dulles Airport was flying over, which most certainly would be a familiar sound to this turtle. We had a little chat about highways and he ambled on (without his snacks), I'm sure he was glad to be "in the wild" again. 

Safe travels # 477!

Assembled

The work for a fall show began in late winter and is well on its way with a few finished pieces that fit the theme of a 'Sea Odyssey'. This piece was so involved (40 tentacles) and so daunting when it came to painting that I actually became afraid of it. There did come a day when I felt it was coming together and could be conquered and a month later I added finishing touches that made it feel finished. This show will be in October at Art A La Carte with a hanging date of Friday, September 27th and a reception on Saturday, October 12th. As time moves along I will introduce a few more for this show. 

Her name is "Sea Siren'.

There are also some wands coming together, the latest holds a cut labradorite stone.  The stone has several uses, most notably as protection from evil and strengthening of natural forces from within. How perfect for a wand. This one will be delivered this week and I am very happy with the final results. 

It also comes out of its case and is two sided, so it can be hung front or back. See it and other art at Art A La Carte Gallery in Occoquan.

The Carrot Family

The highly diverse carrot family offers many plants that are aromatic and useful as herbs or spices. When flowering they are described as umbelliferous, the stems (usually hollow) produce spoked floral stems that break into a smaller spoke which carry the tiny flowers. The term for this arrangement is compound umbels and a sure way to recognize family members. Coriander, Queen Anne's Lace, parsley and parsnips all reside here, a few of the 3,000 species in the carrot family.
Not all are suitable for consumption, poison hemlock or Conium maculatum is highly poisonous, a biennial that is native to Europe and North Africa but has naturalized in the northeast, including Maryland and Virginia. Not only are all parts of the plant poisonous, but skin contact with its sap and direct sun will cause blisters, a phototoxic reaction that can leave the affected area looking like a burn. Cow parsnip or Heracleum maximum, a native perennial and hogweed or Heracleum mantegazzianum, a nonnative and not escaped, can also cause a phototoxic reaction. Mild to severe blisters occur, depending on the combination of sunlight on the skin and sap, which triggers the agitation. All gardeners should learn to recognize these dangerous plants, and avoid handling them. These are the few carrot family members that are the exception to the rule for a largely beneficial family.

I have a patch of dill that seeded itself in an orderly fashion, almost square in its placement, that blockish patch contains hundreds of plants. The feathery leaves are beautiful, the green flowering umbels even more so. All manner of pollinators gather there, as I often say "small flower for small mouths", everything from ladybugs to flies and wasps come for the nectar. Another common visitor is the black swallowtail larvae which grasps the small leaves or flowers and lifts them up to its mouth, preferring a slightly raised position to eat.

As the dill reached the point of flowering I was scrambling to find ways to utilize the herb, garnishing deviled eggs, making braised red cabbage with apple and dill, and potato salad.
It turns out that dill is beneficial in many ways, named from the Norse word dilla, which means "to lull", it was given to colicky infants to sooth their stomach. Also an antiflatulent, one of its most powerful benefits, supposedly recommended as a dietary supplement for Russian cosmonauts living in close quarters.
I love the fact that it works in the pollinator garden or the herb garden, returns without coaxing, and may calm the tummy. A term often used to describe a good person might also be used here; dill is a good citizen.

Creative Ways to Put Sticks Together

I ventured up to Chanticleer Gardens last week, the beautiful gardens that blend art and horticulture. What used to take two and a half hours to drive now takes all of three and a half, located very near Philadelphia, I wish it was closer because it never fails to inspire me. My greatest takeaway was the artistic staking of plants or even just the art of weaving branches to decorate a wall. 

In the gardens there were bamboo slices, very thick and sturdy, artfully tied together with string. Sometimes they supported a vine, other times they became the definition between walkway and garden. 

Wall space became the place to gather large branches in artistic ways.

Willow and cotinus appear to be the main options, probably freshly cut to bend easily.

A simple weave and maybe a bit of string is all that's needed to create these lovely structures.

My reason to travel there was a single photograph on their Instagram account, which looked much like this:

Twelve hours later I was there, sometimes you have to be spontaneous. 

Lacecaps and Mopheads

If you have a partial sun garden and no deer, or a well secured deer fence, you might be tempted to fill it with hydrangea. The big leaf hydrangea or Hydrangea macrophylla can be magnificent in June, maybe even better in July, when they age and soften. The petals, technically sepals, are simple but when collectively arranged in large ovals or puff balls each flower becomes something much more than simple.  These are the mophead types. 

The woody stems look horrible in winter, one of a few downsides; they must be left uncut and/or undamaged since flowers arrive from these as growth begins in spring. If winter has been too cold for that variety and stems freeze to the ground, it will not flower. There are many that don't, no matter how you place them. If we have a ridiculously mild winter, these tender types can produce a few flowers but this happens rarely, too infrequently to provide them space in your garden. The biggest culprits of all foliage and no flowers are the seasonal hydrangeas, sold at Easter or Mother's Day, forced into bloom and looking too good to be true. Just a bit tender for zone 7A.

 Fortunately there are some glorious varieties that are more dependable. Hydrangea 'Endless Summer' will occasionally flower even if stems freeze to the ground. Hybridized to (also) flower on new growth, it's still hesitant to do that reliably but a much better variety for hardiness and stamina. 

There are also hydrangeas that have floral heads that have both male and female flower. The flower center holds the small fertile flowers with larger, infertile flowers on the perimeter. These are the lacecap hydrangeas, an appropriate name and the variety I prefer. The care is no different, winter die back can result in nothing more than a leafy shrub. There have been some real advancements in hybridization, the variety H. 'Twist-N-Shout' is another option for potential flowers on new growth, albeit I think more reliable than H. 'Endless Summer'. A large plant of 'Twist-N-Shout' will invariably have all who see it asking its name.

 Breaking it down even further is Hydrangea macrophylla ssp. serrata. Commonly known as the mountain hydrangea, almost all look like lacecaps, slightly smaller in foliage and flower, but much hardier. I can recommend H. 'Blue Billow' and H. 'Tokyo Delight', having grown them for 15 years or more. Outstanding in their hardiness and bloom. 

Soil chemistry will make a difference in bloom color; very acidic soil will render them blue, sweeter soil - pink. I have seen some so blue that it seemed unnatural, at least to my eyes. But it's something you can experiment with; I much prefer the softer, natural shades and have never altered the pH to change their color.

In truth the big leaf hydrangea are worthy of an entire backyard. They are a bit (very) ugly in winter so may not deserve a place of pride in the front yard, but they flower for months, don't need staked, and rarely have insect or fungal problems. Just don't waste space and time on those that don't flower year after year

It's all Good, or is it?

Two weeks ago I mentioned that I was in a battle to weaken a very large wisteria plant. My goal is to cut all new growth every week. After a span of 9 days, I measured the new growth today. 

That's a yard stick! So wisteria grows about 5 inches per day. Per day! I have always joked about job security if you buy a wisteria you need a gardener, my way of telling you not to. And this is not my plant, I tore mine out years ago. It takes so much effort to control them. We will see how the rest of the summer goes, I shall be persistent in my duties as an estate gardener.

It also seems like the jungle arrived this weekend. I felt so good about my maintaining the weeds and the vines, and the vegetable garden. Then it hit and I feel totally out of control. We'll call it biodiversity, food for all. 

Turtles have been on the move and I saved a female box turtle on Route 50 in Chantilly. She suffered a fractured jaw (hit by car) and is healing at the Blue Ridge Wildlife Center in Boyce, Virginia. I understand they have to go back where they came from which is bad news. I believe she survived the giant construction of storage facilities for Dulles Airport and there is little for her to go home to.  The instructions are no further than a quarter mile from where you find them when taking them back. So the location is the Pleasant Valley United Methodist Church, 43987 John Mosby Hwy, Chantilly, Va and I'm hoping someone might live near there and can give her a good home. The call to take her home may come at any time or it might not, the last one took 3 months, but I sure would like to have a plan. Spread the word please. A nice home with a good supply of water. 

Twice there have been snapping turtles traveling through the yard. 

They may have been females looking for a place to lay eggs, or moving to another pond. I noticed the little protuberances on their head, almost like small worms. 

When the kids were small and we had the plant farm, swimming was a daily occurance, especially on hot days. There were so many snappers in the pond that I worried about little toes. One day I called Loudoun County hospital to ask if I had any reason to worry. A nice nurse told me to make a lot of splashing of water  as the kids went in and the turtles would leave. As I researched the bumps on their heads, the topic came up and the advice was the same. It seems they are only aggressive when out of water, which is understandable. Otherwise they are docile and can live to be 100 years old. 

I hope they make it safely to wherever they are going.