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.