Purge that Spurge!

One of the most challenging weeds in the Mary Snoddy garden is spotted spurge. This heat-loving member of the Euphorbia family is also known as prostrate spurge for its mat-like habit of growing flat against the ground. 

Native to the eastern half of the US, spotted spurge is an annual weed with a taproot. “Annual” means it sprouts, blooms and sets seeds in one season. The mother plant will die with cold weather, but she will leave behind lots of seeds for future seasons. The leaves are tiny (½ inch or less) with a small burgundy splotch, hence the name “spotted” spurge. Stems are pinkish to burgundy. Tiny pink flowers form along all stems. The stems can root wherever they touch soil. 

Plants thrive in any type of soil and even sprout between bricks and in concrete cracks. Spotted spurge goes from flower to seed in four weeks or less, which means it will rapidly spread across your garden and lawn if not removed or killed via chemical means. There are several choices for pre-emergent or post-emergent control. Despite its miniature leaf size, spotted spurge is considered a broadleaf weed. Be sure to read the label to confirm that any herbicide you purchase is effective against this pest. Herbicides are most effective when the plants are young (spring and early summer). They develop a resistance with maturity. Because the weeds are so easily seen, I usually just pull mine by hand rather than use a chemical control method. 

The milky sap common to all Euphorbias can irritate skin, so I always wear my favorite disposable gloves (5mil nitrile) for weed-pulling duty. They grow FAST. I have seen a seedling go from two inches to three feet in a week. Purge them while they are young!

Dragonflies & Damselflies

One of my favorite places to go for quiet time is to our small farm pond. The fish swim by. Turtles poke up curious heads and then dive in an explosion of bubbles. The water surface is disturbed by the occasional travels of a harmless brown water snake. Around the pond banks, dragonflies and damselflies flit by, stopping to rest on the reeds growing along the water’s edge. Their membrane wings are transparent in the sunlight.

How do you tell a dragonfly from a damselfly? Both are found in fresh-water habitats across the US and the temperate world. Both belong to the order Odonata.  Like other insects, they have two antennae, a hard exoskeleton and six legs. Both dragonflies and damselflies have two sets of wings, but the damselfly wings are the same length, while the forward set of dragonfly wings are shorter than the rear set. Damselfly wings narrow where they are attached to the body, while dragonfly wings have a consistent width. Dragonflies rest with their wings stretched out flat like an airplane, while damselflies rest with their wings erect, like a butterfly. Those wings are not attached to each other, so they can fly forward, backward or hover with ease. Damselflies have narrow bodies, while dragonflies are thicker. If you could get close enough to see their eyes, you would note that dragonfly heads are almost entirely made up of their huge sets of eyes, while damselflies have smaller eyes with a gap between them.  Damselflies are usually smaller overall than dragonflies.

Dragon and damsel babies (nyads) and adults eat other insects like gnats, house flies and mosquitos, which makes them Good Guys in my book. Females deposit their eggs in water. If you watch carefully, you may see a female hover over the water’s surface, dipping her tail down as she drops a single egg (“ovipositing”). The nyads are wingless and spend their lifespan in the water, where they consume tiny aquatic life such as mosquito larvae. It takes about eleven months for dragonflies to go from egg to adult.

Weird common names for these insects include “horse stingers,” “mosquito hawks,” “devil’s darning needles,” and my favorite, “snake doctors.” It is not uncommon for them to land on a person who is sitting still in their habitat, but there is no need to shoo them away. Despite those impressive looking tails, neither the dragonfly nor the damselfly have stingers but both have the ability to give you a bite if you catch one and it feels threatened. You would think that this biting ability would be their defense mechanism, but instead they “play dead” and float downstream away from their predators. They can also shoot water through their bodies in a hard stream to rapidly propel themselves away from danger. If a predator rips off a leg, they regrow it.

Dragons and damsels come in many different colors. The ones at the Mary Snoddy pond are mostly an iridescent blue, but they can also be green, purple, gold, red, black or white. I tried to capture a good photo to share with you, but their flying speeds (up to 20mph) coupled with my limited photography skills produced only blurs, so the photo for today’s post is a grass growing pond-side, a popular resting place for my dragonflies.

A Rainbow of Iris

There are different classes and bloom-shape of Irises, but the tall bearded type is my favorite. The term ‘iris’ comes from a Greek word meaning rainbow. This seems appropriate, because the blooms come in all sorts of color combinations.  Bearded iris blooms have three parts: the upright standards, the drooping falls, and the fuzzy beards. Blooms can have all three parts of the same color or a dizzying array of combinations.

Put these rhizomes in well-drained soil where they will receive at least six hours of full sun during blooming season. Fertilize only with a low-nitrogen or no-nitrogen fertilizer. Excess nitrogen can cause bulbs to rot.

Bearded irises are divided into six different classes based on height, from the miniature dwarf that is less than eight inches tall to the tall bearded that are more than 27 inches. The shorter the iris, the earlier it blooms. Miniatures are the first, followed by standard dwarf, intermediate dwarf, miniature tall (what an oxymoron!), then border bearded. The tall bearded blooms last, in late spring. Plant the bulbs just deep enough to cover the rhizome and its feeder roots. Because the weight of the blade-like foliage can make them fall over, I trim the blades back to about six inches when I divide and transplant. On occasion I have used a landscape staple to secure the bulb in place while its roots grow a support system.

Most blooms are fragrant and look wonderful in cut arrangements. As they age, the flowers may bleed a bit, so use an under-plate to avoid staining linens, counters or furniture. Bearded irises need division every three to five years to look their best. If left undivided too long, they stop blooming. Most gardeners are happy to share their divisions.

The best time to divide and transplant is immediately after blooming, but that is the busiest time of year for most gardeners. In the Mary Snoddy garden, I have had good success with transplanting in late summer to early fall. Catalogs offer color combinations that will suit anyone’s taste. I have purchased several of the reblooming variety. While they did not throw a fall bloom the first year, I have enjoyed autumn blossoms every year since, all the way up to Thanksgiving.

Harlequin Bugs

Harlequin bugs are ruining my Cleome (Spider Flower) plants. These bright orange and black insects are the gaudy cousins of the common stink bug, a fact that will not escape you should you foolishly squash one. Manual control can be somewhat effective, but a smart gardener will wear gloves to avoid a lasting stench than cannot be removed with a simple soap and water wash. 

Like other stink bugs, they use a needle-like mouth to pierce plants, sucking out the juice. The damage is easy to spot – look for a light or discolored area with a tiny hole in the middle. When the damage becomes widespread, plants will wilt and entire leaves will die. Plants may become stunted.

Harlequin bugs are difficult to control. A multi-pronged attack is most effective. First, be aware that adults overwinter under plant debris or fallen leaves.  A good winter cleanup with fresh mulch will help. When they emerge from dormancy in spring, the females lay eggs with a distinctive appearance. The eggs look like tiny black and white barrels laid end to end, usually two parallel rows on the bottom side of leaves. Crush any eggs you find.  There can be two to four generations per season. Flip the adults into a small container of soapy water, since crushing releases a nauseating smell.  Insecticidal soaps or other insecticides can be used where numbers are high and plant damage is severe. Those hard shells give good protection, so multiple applications may be needed.  In all cases, read product labels to ensure that you have selected an insecticide that will be effective, apply only in the concentrations specified on the label, and do not apply more often than recommended.

In the Mary Snoddy garden, I have found that plant rotation is a helpful tactic. I grew Cleome in the same flower bed for a number of years. When Harlequin bugs caused extensive damage, I planted seeds in a different location. The new location was bug free for five years. I’ll find an alternate location for next year.

Harlequins prefer to munch on cruciferous crops, like cabbage, broccoli, collards, kale and turnips. If those are not available, they will live on tomatoes, okra, potatoes, beans, asparagus and even fruit trees. Which is to say, they’ll eat just about any plant humans do. Row covers over vegetable crops provide a high level of protection for vegetable crops but are impractical for decorative flower beds.

Harlequin Bug

Standard stink bug

Harlequins in love

Leaf damage from stinkers

Butterfly Weed Buffet

The decline in the Monarch butterfly population has brought attention to the need for pollinator plants. The ugly, weedy variety of milkweed springs up all over my farm, so I think that the Mary Snoddy garden is doing its part. There is a more attractive way to support butterfly families (Monarchs as well as many others) and that is through growing Butterfly Weed (Asclepias tuberosa).

Last year I rescued a number of these from a highway right-of-way that was about to be mowed by the Department of Transportation. I dug up a good stand of the native orange butterfly weed, aquiring the worst case of poison ivy rash I’ve ever experienced. In April, I was weeding one of my flower beds and caught sight of these rescued plants. There were very few leaves left on plants that had been flourishing a week prior. My first thought was that my husband had hit them with the string trimmer. A closer look revealed many, many butterfly caterpillars munching away. I left the plants alone, and in just two weeks they flushed out a new set of leaves and bloomed beautifully.

In addition to the perennial orange variety, I grow the red-and-yellow annual butterfly weed (Asclepias curassavica). It is not as well known as its perennial cousin, but the blooms are lovely.  It is easily started from seed and produces tall, narrow stems with blooms at the very top, which means it is perfect for the back of the flower bed. Once the blooms are spent, I allow some to drop seed so I’ll have more next year. I trim most of the stems back to twelve inches or so. They produce multiple stems from the pruning point and bloom again. 

The only downside of growing any of the butterfly weeds is their attraction to aphids. If you have butterfly weed, you WILL have aphids. I tend to ignore these juice-suckers and let my lady beetles take care of the problem. If populations get really out of control, I use a stream of water from the garden hose to rinse some off, using a little finger action to encourage them to let go.

I love the mature seed pods of both annual and perennial butterfly weed. The elongated capsules burst open when ripe, revealing an abundance of seeds. Each seed has a wispy tail that helps the wind carry them to a new home.

Please see the photos for the annual form, the perennial form, and my caterpillar buffet.

Webworm Woes

Fall webworms are abundant in the Mary Snoddy garden this year. I had mistakenly thought these were tent worms, but I learned that tent caterpillars build their woven nests in tree crotches during spring and summer, while fall tent worms concentrate on the ends of the branches. My pecan trees are stricken this year, but these voracious creatures feed on more than eighty types of trees. Pecan, hickory, poplar, oak, redbud, sweetgum and mulberry appear to be favorite targets.

The diaphanous webs serve to protect the worms while they consume leaves. If you pull one of their webs open, you will find a congregation of worms (they like to hang out with their buddies) that measure just over an inch in length. Coloration varies with the maturity of the worm. The youngsters are pale yellow with fine white hairs. The adults may have a black or red head and their bodies are usually dark green or brown, but retain the white hairs of their youth. Inside the web homes, you’ll also find skeletonized leaves and fecal material, known as frass. One word: Nasty!

The worms mature in about six weeks. They pupate in or on bark or in the soil. With a long, warm fall, there may be two or more generations.

So what does one do about these unsightly pests? My Internet research recommends using dormant oil or insecticide (Sevin, Malathion, Orthene) for control. Since most webs are far above my reach, neither of these options is viable. Removing leaf litter helps with control. I try to prune out the webs within stepladder range, using care to avoid ruining the shape of my trees. I ignore those outside my reach. Some of my arson-minded friends climb a ladder with a lit Tikki torch and burn the webs. When I realized that gravity was going to bring those flaming webs back in my direction, I decided to leave that particular remedy for others.

One thing I have discovered, though, is that tearing the gauzy web open with a long stick or pole is sometimes enough. Birds are quick to see the opportunity for an easy meal, and they help out this lazy gardener. Webworms may defoliate sections of a tree, but they are unlikely to kill it.

Castor Beans

If you love the look of tropical plants but don’t have the climate for them, consider growing Castor Bean, a plant with dinner-plate sized leaves.

Ricinis communis has gained negative attention in the past because the seeds can be processed (don’t ask me how) to produce the deadly poison Ricin. The word ricinis is Latin for tick, and that is exactly what the seeds look like – big, overblown dog ticks. Seeds should be started where you want the plants to grow, since they do not transplant easily.  I allow them to mature and drop seeds in the Mary Snoddy garden, and love that they pop up in random places.

They are heat lovers and grow rapidly to 8 feet or more. Thomas Jefferson grew a prize specimen that topped 22 feet. Castor bean blooms and seeds are not particularly decorative. Grow them for their bold, deeply palmate leaves. Some cultivars have an attractive red tint to the foliage. The stems resemble bamboo a bit.  They are annuals in my Zone 7 garden, but can be perennial in warmer zones.

The leaves and seeds are toxic if ingested. The plants contain two separate poisons. The most lethal of these poisons is contained in the seed. Two seeds, chewed and swallowed, can kill a person. This is the same plant whose seeds can be processed to remove the ricin (again, don’t ask me how) to produce the nasty-tasting Castor Oil that was given to ailing children many years ago. I think this archaic practice has fallen off the radar. If you remember it from your childhood and wonder about your parents’ wisdom in dosing you with it, well, consider that maybe you weren’t their favorite kid.

Please don’t grow these if you have young children or pets that like to chew on plants. Several years ago, I was experiencing devastation from deer that were visiting my vegetable garden every night. I planted a moat of Castor Beans as a protective hedge, hoping to repel the deer or at least make them sick enough to leave my garden alone. The voracious herd at New Hope Farm ate the leaves off the plants but didn’t touch the seeds. I have since installed an electric fence to protect the food garden. Folklore says that they repel voles and moles, but my personal experience does not support that theory.

Castor Beans die at the first freeze. The large plants require a mattock and labor to remove the dead stems and roots, but I think it is well worth the effort.

Angel Trumpet - Night Magic

Last week I wrote about Four O’Clocks, a colorful, night-blooming flower. This week I want to share another. Datura meteloides has a number of common names: Angel trumpet, Devil’s trumpet, shrubby Moonflower, Jamestown weed or Thornapple.

These are easily started from seed and thrive in full sun. The blue-gray foliage smells bad if crushed, but the flowers smell wonderful. They open at nightfall and close again when sun strikes them the next morning.

The photo slideshow below shows the blooms closed up tight, then partially open, then fully open. (You may need to select 'View In Browser' to see the slide show advance automatically.) This opening process takes about 30 minutes, so you can sit and watch them unfurl. It is entertaining to watch the honeybees try to force blooms open so they can grab a quick nip of nectar before they head to the hive at dusk.

These plants are heat lovers and drought tolerant. They are listed as cold hardy in zone 9-11, but mine die to the ground (zone 7) with the first freeze and have returned every year since 1993.  They will also reseed themselves from the ping-pong ball sized pods that are covered with sharp prickles. Mine love the heat next to the foundation of our farmhouse.

If I allow it, they will grow six or more feet across, blocking my entrance walk.  I chop them back to keep them in bounds. Daturas come in white, yellow and purple. They can be distinguished from their cousins the Brugmansias because Daturas hold their blooms upright while Brugmansias droop like bells. Brugmansias have a wider color spectrum, including a particularly lovely apricot.

One drawback: All parts of the plant are extremely toxic, and are very closely related to the toxic jimson weed that killed some of America’s earliest settlers (hence the common name, Jamestown weed). If you have young children or a dog that nibbles on your shrubs, take a pass on this one. Good news: Deer won't touch them.

8:55 pm

It's Four O'Clock Somewhere

There are a few flowers that bloom on a working person’s schedule. That is, they keep their petals closed in a tight nap during the normal 9-to-5 workday, then as you arrive home at the end of the day they decide to strut their stuff. One of my favorite night bloomers is the old-fashioned Four O’Clocks (Mirabilis jalapa).  The dime-sized blooms open late afternoon and will remain open until 10am or so. You can find these in solid colors (magenta, yellow, white, red) but my favorites are the “broken colors” with two colors of flowers on the same plant and sometimes even on the same bloom.

Four O’Clocks are easily started from seeds. The seeds are large, about the size of BB’s, and are toxic if eaten. During their first year, Four O’Clocks form an underground tuber similar to Dahlias. Freezing weather kills the plant but the tuber stays alive underground and will send up a new plant every year thereafter in Zones 7 and warmer. You should cut off the frost-dead stems at ground level before spring arrives.

If you notice the leaves becoming pale around mid-season, apply liquid fertilizer. They will green up again in a day or two. In the Mary Snoddy garden, the white variety always gets taller (48") than the other colors (28-36"). I’m not sure why. Occasionally a harsh thunderstorm knocks the plants over. When that happens, I use electric hedge trimmers to apply a serious pruning. The plants rebound and will be blooming again in two-three weeks.

The plants are heat and drought tolerant. They are happy in full sun or part sun. The flowers have a distinct pleasant fragrance, almost like soap. Best part of all: they are deer resistant and not troubled by diseases.

How this blog works

Several of you have written and asked how I managed to post last week’s blog from a hospital room. Simple answer: I didn’t.

I use a website creation program called Squarespace. I am able to write my blogs in advance and give them a future release date. When the illustrative photographs span several weeks, I have drafted the text and captured the “before” version. At the appropriate time, I take the “during” or “after” photos and update the original entry. This way I don’t need to dig through hundreds of photos on my phone or camera, trying to find something I captured weeks earlier. I use only photos that I have taken. On the rare case when I use someone else’s photo, I give them credit for it. It is not nice to steal someone else’s photos, and can land you in expensive trouble.

I can send out my articles immediately if I choose, or stack them with future publish dates. With Squarespace, I don’t need to know any website programming language. It is mostly intuitive, and if I cannot figure how out how to do what I want, there are help videos to talk me through it.

Squarespace is only one part of the process. My website is hosted by another company entirely, GoDaddy. All these integrate with MailChimp, a separate paid service that maintains my email list of readers. One of the coolest things about MailChimp is that they refuse to play with anyone who does not have a paid email address. No @aol, @gmail, @msn or other free accounts. The reasoning behind this is that spammers hide behind free email accounts. If you are willing to cough up the cash to have your own email site (mary@marysnoddy.com for me), you are unlikely to be hawking prepaid funeral expenses, Russian marriages or organ enhancements. Isn’t it nice to know that such a service works hard to keep you from being spammed?

With MailChimp, I control what days of the week and what time of the day my blogs arrive in your email in-box. I find it annoying to hear the notification tone of emails arriving at 2am, and my guess is that you do too. (Hello, businesses, are you listening?) I do not send out blog posts on the weekend, either. Nobody wants to arrive at work on Monday morning and find stacks of emails waiting to be opened.

Unless you enter a comment, I don’t know if you viewed my post or deleted it without reading. Most articles contain “tag” words to help people find my info through a search tool like Google or Bing. I can determine if someone has contacted my website through a search, but not the identity of that person. I can also tell if the post was read on a desktop computer, mobile phone or tablet.

The blog process sounds more complicated than it is, although I admit that I had several failed attempts at startup. There is always something new to learn, and I’m enjoying the research I do to share those insights with you. I appreciate your comments and encouragement. If you find the blog content interesting, please consider sharing with your friends. The measure of a blog's success is the number of subscribers.

And just because I love sharing photos, here is a shot of peaches on one of my orchard trees.

Peaches at New Hope Farm

Christmas Cactus Care - Right Now

It’s time to start preparing your Christmas Cactus to look its best for the holidays. Schlumbergera (why, Linnaeus, why?) has been eclipsed by the poinsettia as the leading holiday plant, but it is certainly easier to maintain.

The “cactus” part of the name might lead one to believe that they prefer hot, dry air and poor soil. Not true! While it’s necessary to avoid a water-logged soil, plants do best in a free-draining potting soil, moderate temperatures and high humidity. I repot with fresh soil every other year.

When spring night temperatures stay above fifty degrees, I move my Christmas Cactus outdoors to a table in my gazebo, where it receives bright light but no direct sun. In an unglazed terracotta container, I find a watering schedule of every five days is about right, but you will need to adjust your schedule to reflect your container porosity, heat, wind and light exposure. Those “veins” running down the middle of each leaf will become more prominent if your plant is thirsty. If you ignore the first signal, leaves will start to shrivel. I’ve neglected mine to the shrivel point a couple of times and it has survived anyway.

The branches of an older plant can reach five feet or more, which usually places its tip-of-the-branch blooms around ankle level. Some gardeners like this look, and elevate their plants to bring attention to the impressive lengths. This waterfall appearance does not appeal to me. I prefer a fuller plant with shorter branches. One of my Master Gardener cohorts, Elaine, told me that aggressive pruning was the ticket out of droopy-ville. I’ve followed her recommendation with great success. 

Somewhere between May and August, select the longest branches. Look for a fork, leave one segment past the fork intact, and pinch/snip/prune off the longer piece. The plant will regenerate with new growth. Many times the pruning results in multiple branches, meaning the plant looks fuller. I was hesitant during my first year, worried that I might over-prune. Now I snip away with abandon and give the sheared plant a spritz of liquid fertilizer to encourage that new growth. The pieces you removed will take root easily.  Place six to nine in a 4-inch container and by Christmas, you may have nice, full extras to share with your friends.

If you move your plant outdoors for the summer, be sure to bring it back inside before night temperatures drop below 50 degrees. Check for insects to be sure you don’t bring unwelcome visitors into your home. Place it in a bright location without direct sunlight and avoid drafts. Cool season water needs are much less than summer time, but I mist weekly to keep the humidity high. 

Bud-set and blooming are dictated by the amount of light a plant receives. If you are trying to force yours into bloom on a specific timetable, the internet is awash with detailed instructions. I ignore all the engineering and let nature take its course. 

Properly maintained, these succulents will be with you for years or even decades. The accompanying photos illustrate a plant before pruning, immediately after pruning, and eight weeks after pruning. This plant came to New Hope Farm as a gift from my younger stepson to my mother-in-law in 1989. I took ownership in 2005. It still blooms beautifully.

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good WEED!!

I try to keep my blogs upbeat, to share fun and mostly positive information. Please forgive me if today’s post veers toward hysteria. A weed is attempting to overtake New Hope Farm, and probably all of North America. That thug is Fatoua villosa, or Mulberryweed.

According to the UGA Horticulture Department, it has been detected in all states east of the Mississippi, from Florida to Indiana and also in Arkansas. It is a native of eastern Asia and was introduced into New Orleans in the 1950s.

The seedlings look innocuous enough. One might even mistake them for salvia babies. But by the time you realize that it is not innocent, the damage is done. Those fuzzy little green balls all along the stem are blooms and seeds. Every one of those seeds will germinate.

Sources say they prefer shady, moist areas, but in the Mary Snoddy garden they are not picky about soil, temperature, moisture or sun. I’ve seen them sprout in the cracks of the driveway and in the mortar of my brick patio. It is an annual, which means that (in theory) you can control it by removing every plant before any reseeding occurs. I have found this to be impossible, so I have established a three-prong attack: pre-emergent herbicide, a broad spectrum herbicide or broad-leaf specific herbicide applied with a sponge paintbrush, and attentive weeding. They can go from seed to flower in two weeks, and can spit those seeds up to four feet away.

Mulberryweed is troublesome in nurseries, too, so police your newly purchased plants to ensure that you did not adopt any unwelcome hitchhikers. Gardeners must be vigilant! Thanks for reading my rant – I’ll return to happy news next week.

Figs - Food Powerhouse

There are a few foods that fall into the “either love them or hate them” category: oysters, olives, beer, beets, cilantro, mushrooms, anchovies, licorice, all come to mind.  In the fruit world, figs have their share of fans and haters.

Figs are grown in most parts of the temperate world and have been for centuries. They are mentioned more than 70 times in The Bible. It was the third plant mentioned in Genesis, after the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge. Adam and Eve supposedly used fig leaves to cover their nakedness. I assume that they were using a different type of fig than the one in the Mary Snoddy garden. Mine have a rough texture that causes intense itching in some of us tender-skinned gardeners.

Figs consist of 55% natural sugar, making them one of the sweetest fruits available. They are LOADED with good stuff – fiber, antioxidants, minerals, vitamins. They can be eaten fresh or dried, which makes them excellent take-along foods for hiking.

Common fig (Ficus carica) is in the mulberry family. You won’t find blooms on the shrub, because the fruit IS the bloom. Fruits are what is called an “enclosed inflorescence” because the male and female flower grow inside what we consider to be the skin or peel, also called an infructescence. The tiny seeds give fruits a gritty texture than some people dislike. I find it delightful.

While a few fruits can develop without pollination (“parthenogenesis”), most are pollinated by a small wasp that enters through a tiny hole at the base of the infructescense. These entryways are easily seen on the ripe fruit, opposite the stem.  

Figs are self-fruitful, so you only need one to have a crop. Be aware that these shrubs can grow quite large – 30 feet or so. Unlike many other fruit trees, figs live a long time, usually 30 years or more. In my part of the southern US, most home trees are one of three varieties: Celeste, Brown Turkey, or LSU Purple. If you decide to try one in your home landscape, consult your Extension agent to determine which varieties do best in your particular zone.

This variety is 'Celeste' which grows well in my area. These fruits are immature. They will double in size and turn purple when ripe.

Wee Kiwi

Five years ago I saw Kiwi vines for sale. Cold hardy to Zone 7, the tag said. One variety, ‘Michigan State,’ was listed as cold hardy to Zone 3. That familiar feeling kicked in: Must Have That In the Mary Snoddy Garden. Most kiwis need both males and females in order to obtain fruit. I bought three females and two males. One of the males and one of the females croaked during the first winter. I replaced the female with the cultivar ‘Issai’ which is listed as self-fertile.

The type of kiwi I grow is not the fuzzy brown egg-sized type you find in your grocery store (Actinida deliciosa), but the smaller, slick skinned, bright green kind commonly called kiwiberry (Actinida arguta). Taste is the same. No peeling is required for the slick-skin type. Eat them whole.

Ison’s Nursery in Georgia sells the vines and also has an excellent Growing Guide that gives specific details on trellis construction, watering, pruning, and fertilizing.

Kiwi is an extremely vigorous grower. It requires a sturdy trellis similar to the type used for grapes. Flowers are produced on current season’s growth from last year’s buds. They need frequent and drastic pruning to avoid becoming a thicket. It seems that I have just pruned mine  when I walk by a few days later and the vines look like Medusa’s head, snaking everywhere. Japanese Beetles can turn the leaves into lace overnight, but it doesn’t seem to impact the plants. They just grow more leaves! They have a shallow, fibrous root system, so be careful with your weeding and don’t be stingy with the watering.

My kiwis produced a few fruits their second year. A late freeze killed all my flower buds last year, so it was a zero harvest. This year looks like a bumper crop.

Mulberry Trees - Not just for silk worms

The edges of our woodlands are dotted with mulberry trees. This understory tree is native to the eastern US. It bears prolific fruits that ripen from white to red to a rich, shiny black. The fruits are loved by a variety of songbirds, opossums, squirrels, and Mary Snoddy. Deer browse the young leaves but tend to ignore the mature ones.

The red mulberry (Morus rubra) reaches heights up to 70 feet. It often branches low into a multi-stemmed tree rather than having a single trunk. Red mulberry can be distinguished from its cousin, the white mulberry (Morus alba) by its rough-textured leaves. The white mulberry has shiny leaves and tends to be shorter, reaching 30 to 40 feet. In winter, one can identify the mulberry by its zig-zag stems, similar to redbud (Cercis).

The leaves vary in shapes. Some are lobed, almost like white oak, while others are heart-shaped. See this website for photographs: https://www.invasiveplantatlas.org/subject.html?sub=6050 . Silkworms only eat leaves of the white mulberry. (I've never seen a silkworm on ours.)

The mulberry can be either dioecious (has both male and female blooms on the same tree, so can pollinate itself) or monoecious (needs a separate tree to pollinate). The male blooms are green catkins that hang like pieces of green fringe. The female blooms are white and smaller. Some research indicates that the red can be pollinated by the white. Fruiting is always prolific at New Hope Farm.

Ripe fruit looks a lot like blackberries. They are delicious. The stem does not separate from the fruit, so it is impossible to eat them without getting the juice on your fingers. WARNING: It stains fingers, clothing, cars, sidewalks, and anything else it touches. If you wish to harvest the fruit (for jams, jellies, beverages or baking), you can place an old sheet or tarp on the ground under the tree and shake the limbs. Ripe fruit falls readily.

No Pawpaws In My Basket -- Yet

One fruit you are unlikely to see at your local grocery store is the Pawpaw. Asimina triloba is our largest native fruit, with a flavor that is described as a combination of pineapple, banana and mango. Its rarity in the market is due to its short storage life . Pawpaws fall off the tree when ripe, and will only last two to three days thereafter. They are edible for a day or so after the skin turns black. The soft interior can be eaten with a spoon, which is why one of the common names is custard apple. Other common names include hillbilly mango, Quaker delight, and Hoosier banana. Fruit is kidney shaped and can vary from egg size to palm size.

I grew up hearing the rhyme about “Picking up pawpaws, putting them in a basket, way down yonder in the pawpaw patch.” Despite the fact that they are native to more than half the states, I was in my twenties before I saw my first one. At the time I thought the fruit smelled like bubble gum. A crushed leaf has an unappetizing odor similar to asphalt. It took a little time for me to adapt to the fruit's pudding-like texture, but I didn't like coffee or olives the first time either.

Pawpaws have unimpressive burgundy blooms that strongly resemble (in my mind, at least) miniature Carolina Sweetshrub, Calycanthus floridus. The understory trees remain short in stature and thrive in filtered shade cast by larger trees but bear more fruit when sited in full sun. They spread by suckers, so develop into thickets in the wild. It takes at least two varieties to ensure cross pollination and fruit production.  Blooms are pollinated by flies, so several sources recommend throwing dead fish or road kill near the tree trunks to attract pollinators. (I couldn’t make this stuff up.)  Fruit may form but if pollination is lacking it will fall off soon after formation. The baby fruits look like a miniature bunch of bananas.

Purdue University has a website with excellent photographs of the tree, foliage and fruit: https://ag.purdue.edu/btny/ppdl/Pages/POTW_old/9-23-13.html . Kentucky University has a pawpaw breeding research program that encompasses over 2,000 trees and they also house a gene bank for the species.

Pawpaws are one of those foods that have been around forever (American Indians ate them) but engendered little interest until recent years. Now they are a novelty item (think goji berry), even featured in the May/June 2018 issue of The American Gardener magazine.

I found pawpaw culture intriguing, and purchased several cultivars and an unnamed seedling three years ago. They require maturity to start producing, so I’m biding my time, sitting in the Mary Snoddy orchard with my harvest basket.

My friend, Sonny Stokes, shows off a tiny cluster of baby pawpaws on his tree.

Garden Voodoo

Occasionally I am drawn to a plant just because it’s weird. That is the case with Amorphophallus, commonly known as Voodoo Lily. I spotted the unusual speckled stem and tropical looking leaves at a visit to the Lake Lure Flowering Bridge a couple of years ago. (If you have never visited the Lake Lure Bridge, located in Lake Lure, NC, plan a summer trip NOW.)

I was unfamiliar with this plant, so it took me a year to correctly identify it. A mature specimen produces a flower before the first leaves appear. The flower has the scent of rotting meat, to attract flies for pollination. Leaves appear after the bloom has faded. The appearance of the flower gives you an idea as to why the Latin name is Amorphophallus.  For photos and a colorful description, see this website link to Plant Delights Nursery, also in NC: https://www.plantdelights.com/products/amorphophallus-konjac

Through the kindness of a friend, I was able to obtain a specimen last summer from her generous neighbor. I wasn’t sure about its cold hardiness, so I kept it in a container. I moved the container to my heated greenhouse after it went dormant.  It was late to emerge this year, giving me a scare that I had lost it.

Once it popped through the soil and its decorative pot dressing of moss, it grew rapidly. These photos were taken just a few days apart. Looks like I need a bigger pot!

Deer Parking

Recently some friends of mine encountered a fascinating natural phenomenon. After dark, they were searching their woodlands for a missing cat. Their flashlights reflected eerily in the eyes of an animal. Their first thought was that their pet had fallen victim to a predator. Instead, the glowing eyes belonged to a baby deer.  The spotted fawn made no attempt to escape. They wisely backed away, hoping that the fawn’s mother was nearby.

The fawn was still hunkered down the next morning, with no mama doe in sight. The first assumption was that the young deer was abandoned. These compassionate people wisely contacted the Department of Natural Resources for instructions. They learned about a normal practice called “parking.”

Deer births typically occur May through July. Unlike humans, the mother deer only interacts with her offspring a couple of times a day. She nurses two to three times a day, around sunrise and sunset. The rest of the time she stays away from her baby, although she is usually nearby. During its first weeks of life, the fawn has no scent to attract predators. The mother does not want her own scent to attract dangerous attention to her baby. Even though fawns are so adorable, humans should leave them alone. (The photo of the parked fawn was taken by my cat-seeking friends.)

A second reason that people should let nature take its normal course is that very young baby deer have not developed an attachment to their mothers. They are likely to be attracted to any large moving object (like people) and may follow into unsafe areas. If the bonding process is disrupted, the fawn may be abandoned.

While mother deer usually select tall grasses or shrubby areas to park their babies, sometimes their judgement of safe areas can be questionable. Within a few days of its birth, the fawn will have developed the instinct to hide, and may flatten itself in an attempt to blend into its surroundings.

Do not move a found fawn. And DO NOT ATTEMPT to feed a fawn. Cow’s milk, infant formula, or goat’s milk can all cause diarrhea that may be fatal. Here is a link to a website that provides clear instructions on how to handle a found fawn: http://www.keeperofthewild.org/fawn_rescue.html. While the contact telephone numbers provided are for South Carolina only, the general information applies to any state. 

Many thanks to Ann and Al for sharing this experience and their photograph with me! (The missing cat returned safely.)
 

What's That On My Mulch??!

Don’t be alarmed if patches of yellow or tan spongy growth appear  overnight on your mulch. These are not an indication that your dog is suffering from digestive upset.  Fuligo septica is a type of slime mold that commonly appears during warm, humid weather. It thrives in a damp environment, whether from rainfall or irrigation. It is commonly called the “Dog Vomit Fungus” which gives a pretty accurate description of the appearance. It is not really a fungus, but a different group of organisms known as Protistas. Only a science geek would belabor the distinction, so I’ll keep referring to mine as slime molds.

These eyesores can appear on your lawn or shrubs, but they show up most often on mulch. While slime molds look disgusting, they live only on dead plant material so they are not damaging to living things unless they are so large they block sunlight from the host plant and prevent photosynthesis.

Don’t waste time, money or chemicals by spraying with fungicides. The molds will disappear on their own in just a few days. If you want to speed their demise, you can rake through the growths to speed drying of the host material. If you choose, you can remove them and bag them for disposal.  Molds are usually yellow for a day or two, then turn tan as they mature and prepare to release reproductive spores into the air.

This slime mold is about six inches across. The tan color indicates that it is nearing the end of its lifecycle. It was lemon yellow yesterday.

Invasion of Violets

In Victorian times, flowers were given certain meanings, a symbolism known as floriography. Some of these associations are still familiar. Roses signify love and romance. Daisies mean innocence or purity. Carnations mean “I wanted to send you flowers but roses are too expensive and these last longer.”  What about violets?  According to the website TheLanguageOfFlowers.com, blue violets symbolize watchfulness or faithfulness while white violets supposedly convey the message, “Let’s take a chance on happiness.” 

According to one of my gardening books from the early 1950’s, the violet was Napoleon’s favorite flower. His followers wore knots of these to show loyalty. Ancient Greeks believed that eating the blossoms could overcome hangovers.

Any gardener can tell you that the true meaning of violets is World Domination. They are a James Bond-type villain of the plant world. Several years ago, a few of these wild flowers appeared in the spaces between my tall bearded Iris. I thought they made a charming groundcover, choking out other weeds while producing pretty violet blue (in my mind, purple) flowers. I went indoors for a glass of lemonade and when I returned to the garden, the handful had magically turned into fifty plants. In one growing season, these multiplied into hundreds. In my ignorance, I thought them benign. Sadly, it is extremely difficult to eliminate a violet invasion.

The pretty blooms produce seeds, but so do tiny, greenish blooms that are held at ground level and concealed by the foliage. The plant develops a thick root, known as a crown. If you are attempting to dig them out of your flower beds, the entire crown must be lifted. Any portion left behind happily grows a new plant. I have had limited success with herbicides like glyphosate and 2, 4-D. My flame-thrower killed off the top leaves but left the roots intact. To remove them, I lift the crowns using a tool designed for digging out tap-rooted weeds like dandelions. It is sometimes called an asparagus knife and looks like a screwdriver with a wide, forked tip. (Just this week, I purchased a new tool from my local big box store. It is a high-quality item made by Fiskars, looks like a forked knife, and is becoming indispensable in my arsenal of Weapons of Weed Destruction.)
 
Wild violets thrive in shady areas and heavy clay where few other plants grow well. They are impervious to the toxic effects of juglone, so they grow well under black walnut trees. Deer rarely eat them. Mostly by default, I have decided to treat them like an intentional groundcover in the Mary Snoddy garden. At some point the violets will meet the ever-encroaching common Bermuda grass. Can’t wait to see which one is the victor in the coming plant Armageddon.