Flowers for Barbara: Cultivating Hope in a Pandemic

Ever since humans started gardening and farming, the practice has had central importance in our lives. As we processed out of the agrarian age, some of us humans may have lost the connection to the importance of growing plants to our everyday lives. We rely on the growing of plants to feed us, to produce medicine, clothing, and shelter. We use plants to provide beauty in our landscapes and our homes. And perhaps one of the positives of the current pandemic is that many people are turning to plants as a way to assuage their fears. Being one of those extension people whose mission is to teach people gardening I’ve seen some of this first hand. But a phone call I received this week really drilled into my soul how important plants are not only for the food they provide, but also the way they effect our mental well-being.

Victory garden - Wikipedia
Victory Gardens Poster
Source: WikimediaCommons

As the last few weeks have unfolded, we’ve seen seed companies struggle to keep up with orders, garden center shelves empty of vegetable seeds and plants, and a general movement that what the National Garden Bureau is calling Victory Gardens 2.0. Many are saying that vegetable seeds are the new toilet paper. There are a few reasons that people are turning to gardening in a time of crisis. Gardening is seen by many as a grassroots way of ensuring food access. In addition, the ability to grow one’s own food not only produces said food but also provides a feeling of self-sufficiency for the gardener. The mere act of knowing that you have some sort of control over your access to food, because you can grow your own, provides a sense of calm. It helps ease some of the uncertainty of wondering if there will be produce at the grocery store or if you will have the financial stability to afford it. During the economic crisis of 2009, the National Gardening Association estimated that home food gardening (vegetables and fruit) increased by 19%. It might be too early to tell, but I suspect those numbers will be higher this year.


But lets get back to the phone call….
Gardening and plants also have a positive effect on mental-well being in a general sense. The act of gardening can produce a meditative like practice (unless you’re cursing at weeds or violently ripping out diseases plants – but those acts may provide catharsis). But research also shows us that just seeing nature can have a calming effect on our minds.

Image
Insult to injury: 6+ inches of snow after the frigid temperatures
Source: Scott Evans, UNL

This was so apparent in my recent call. I had received a voicemail from an elderly gentleman that asked for a call back as soon as possible so that I could talk to his wife (we’ll call her Barbara). I had time between back to back Zoom meetings, so I called. The gentleman answered and after I introduced myself he told me that Barbara had a question about flowers. After a few seconds, a frail, halting voice asked me if all the tulips and daffodils were dead. Over the previous few nights temps had dipped below the normal lows and many plants had seen some damage, including flowers of many early season bloomers.


I answered briefly that some of them were likely damaged, that the blooms would be killed but the plants would be OK. What happened next….I didn’t expect. Full on, gut-wrenching crying. The kind of sorrow that you can feel throughout your being. After a few seconds, between the gasping sobs, she uttered the words “I don’t think I can take it anymore. First we can’t see people. Now the flowers are gone.”


After the initial jolt, I tried to respond as I’ve been trained to do (we have luckily received training in mental health first aid to help clients who are in distress) – calm reassuring words, asking if she was OK, and providing positive affirmation that once the temperature warmed up there would be blooms again. Though she was so overwhelmed that she just said goodbye and hung up.


I was shocked. It took a few minutes for me to compose myself. I don’t often deal with clients where there is such an emotional response (hats off to my entomology colleagues who have to deal with telling people that they have bedbugs or that they might be suffering from delusory parasitosis). After I gathered my thoughts, I felt that I needed to call back – the emotional response was so strong that I wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be issues of self-harm or other effects.


In my return call, Barbara and I discussed that there would be more flowers once the weather warmed back up. We discussed our mutual love of plants and how they make us feel. She sees the flowers in the neighborhood when they leave their small apartment for errands and it makes her feel better. And even though there were still tears, both of us were in a much better place. Out of the blue, I asked if it was OK if I brought her flowers to enjoy until the weather warmed up. At first she was hesitant – she didn’t want to cause trouble. But after I assured her that making sure she had flowers would do me just as much good as it would her, she and her husband agreed. I told them that after I got done with my work for the day, I would find some flowers and drop them off on their doorstep.


I needed to make a (now infrequent) run to the store for necessities any way, so while I was shopping I picked up a potted plant at the grocery store (the one I thought would be easiest to care for). I went home and wrote a note, wrote down some simple directions, and delivered the flowers. As I walked away, I heard Barbara’s husband open the door and tell her that there was a surprise for her.


I have to say that I can totally understand this reaction that may seem excessive to some. Many people are dealing with the stress of the pandemic, some better than others. Here was one thing that was giving this lady enjoyment – seeing the flowers blooming when she is able to get out of the house. And that one enjoyment had been taken away by a late freeze. It drove home to me the fact that gardening and plants are essential for many. For the food that they can provide, both for nourishing our bodies and for nourishing our spirits. Plants are providing us hope for the future and calm for the present.

While I may never hear back from Barbara and her husband again, I can tell you that making that one connection through plants was definitely a boost for me. My wish is that those flowers give her hope for the future. A sense of calm knowing that one day things will return to normal, and the knowledge that one day soon the flowers will indeed bloom again.

Flowers for “Barbara”

A Cactus by Any Other Name: A Case of Mistaken Holiday Cactus Identity

Believe it or not, a cactus, of all things, is one of those plants that have come to represent the holidays and feature in the regular rotation of holiday houseplants. Then again, maybe it isn’t so strange amongst its peers that feature a flashy bulb-grown plant named for a horse’s head (the Latin name of amaryllis is Hippeastrum, literally meaning horse flower), a plant that has ugly flowers but brightly colored leaf bracts and leaks sticky and irritating latex when damaged, or some daffodil-like flowers that have musky odor so strong it makes some people nauseous.  But…..I digress. 

Back to the cactus.  However you see it though, the cacti that make their debut at the holidays are suffering under a case of mistaken identity.  What you typically buy as a Christmas cactus is not a Christmas cactus at all. It is actually a Thanksgiving cactus.  Now this wouldn’t be such a big deal, except that there is such a thing as a “Christmas cactus” — but you won’t find one on store shelves. Nay, it is hard to even find one in garden catalogs.  And this is sad, because the Christmas cactus is, I think, even more beautiful than the Thanksgiving cactus. 

How did we end up ignoring the beautiful Christmas cactus in favor of its holiday cousin?  It all comes down to timing and how we buy things for the holidays.  It seems that, as the shopping and holiday seasons creep ever upward on the calendar, retailers have little love for a cactus that is actually programmed to bloom at Christmas. They need something that blooms earlier so that it can be on the store shelves as early as possible. (At this pace, breeders will need to develop and Independence Day cactus for the Christmas shopping season.)

Therefore, the Thanksgiving cactus has been rebranded as a impostor stand-in for the true Christmas cactus. We won’t even talk about the Easter cactus, which just totally feels left out of the family (and yes, there is such a thing and it is beautiful).

These cacti were in cultivation in Europe by 1818 and various different species were being hybridized, probably most notably by W. Buckley.  The most notable hybrid, bred now named Schlumbergera ‘Buckleyi’ is considered to be the first actual “Christmas cactus” and associated S. x buckleyi hybrids are still grown as Christmas cacti.  Cultivars and crosses of S. truncata are the Thanksgiving cacti that have been rebranded as Christmas cacti.  They can be identified by their flattened stems (or cladodes or cladophylls) that have spiky, toothed edges and zygomorphic (now that’s a fancy word — it means that they have a two-sided, or bilateral, symmetry) flowers.  Most of the Thanksgiving cacti that have these characteristics.

W. Fitch (drew), Swan (engraved) – Bot. Mag. 66. 3717, as Epiphyllum russellianum Source: Wikimedia commons

You’ll most commonly find them in pink colors, but you can now find them in yellowish colors. The flower shape often leads to its nickname: “Zygo cactus.”

S. x buckleyi are the true Christmas cacti and form what is called the Buckleyi group.  Most of these have characteristics that come from the species S. russelliana, which was used in the early Buckley crosses. They can be identified by their rounded, less pointy cladodes and round, radially symmetrical flowers. They do have a similar growing form, but those in the know can tell the difference.

And for those following along at home, the Easter (or spring) cactus used to be considered part of the Schlumbergera genus (S. gaertneri) and then the Rhipsalidopsis genus, but now is classified as Hatiora gaertneri has radially symmetrical flowers but the cladodes are three dimensional rather than flat, elongated, and scalloped.  They have a wide range of colors, such as red, pink, and even orange.

Holiday cactus care

It’s a cactus, so it should be easy to care for – I just water it sparingly and keep it dry, right?  WRONG!

Whether you have a Thanksgiving or Christmas cactus (or an Easter one, for that matter), you take care of them the same way. Keys to their care come from their native habitat, which is not a desert but the cloud forests of costal south-east Brazil.  The high-altitude costal areas where they’re from are cool, shaded, and relatively humid with the mists and moisture rich air. They are epiphytic or lithophytic – meaning that they grow on trees and in crevices with decaying plant material rather than in the soil.  And while you don’t need to know this to grow them, the morphology of the flowers have developed to support the feeding of hummingbirds which act as their main pollinator.

Since we don’t grow them epiphytically, when we pot them we need to make sure that we provide a light substrate for them to grow and to get plenty of oxygen to the roots. Potting mixes should have a high ratio of peat or coir and even some bark or other coarse woody material.  As for watering, you’ll want to keep the soil fairly moist, rather than dry.  You’ll also want to let them dry slightly between watering, but don’t think that they like to live the life of dehydration — you do need to keep them watered.

One of the reasons that they bloom at very specific time of year has to do with light and, to a lesser extent, temperature.  They are short-day (or rather  long-night) plants, so they flower as days grow shorter (or longer, in the case of the Easter cactus) and nights grow longer.  The Thanksgiving cactus will bloom with just a little shorter dark period than the Christmas cactus, which is why it blooms in late fall as opposed to the Christmas cactus that blooms closer to when days are the shortest around the solstice.  They will also bloom better and longer if they have cooler temperatures, so keeping them in a cool area of the house is ideal.  In high light situations the cladodes will turn red.  Keeping them too dark, however, will limit growth and keep them from thriving.

Since they are short-day plants, the plants need a period of several weeks where the period of darkness at night is 12 hours or longer for their flowers to begin forming.  This occurs naturally about mid-October, but you can delay flowering by using grow lights to lengthen the day (or keep in mind that bright indoor lights can also limit or reduce blooming).  Also, don’t be alarmed if they bloom at odd times through the year.  Since daylight coming into your windows can be altered by window treatments or films, the light levels can technically be “just right” for flowering at multiple times per year.  In my old office the tint on the windows created the right conditions at least once or twice per year – one year I had a Halloween cactus and the next it was a Memorial Day cactus. 

If your cactus does not flower, you need to move it to a spot where it gets at least 12 hours of relative darkness to initiate blooms (keep away from indoor light sources or windows near outdoor lights). Hopefully, you’ll have lots of colorful blooms for Christmas…..or whichever holiday your cactus celebrates. 

Sources

Is it a Thanksgiving, Christmas, or Easter Cactus? https://www.extension.iastate.edu/linn/news/it-thanksgiving-christmas-or-easter-cactus

McMillan, A. J. S.; Horobin, J. F. (1995), Christmas Cacti: The Genus Schlumbergera and Its Hybrids (p/b ed.), Sherbourne, Dorset, UK: David Hunt

The Myth, the Legend, the Parasite: Romance, Lore, and Science beneath the Mistletoe

As we hurdle ever closer to the holidays and the end of the year, there’s lots of plants we could talk about – amaryllis, poinsettias (and the abuse thereof with glitter and paint), whether or not your cactus celebrates Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter or is agnostic, and on and on.  Each of these plants have an interesting history and connection to the holidays, but today we’re going to be a little more naughty…but nice.  We’re going to talk about mistletoe.

Now, mistletoe is one of those holiday plants that you don’t really want growing in your own garden. That’s because, even though it is a symbol of love and even peace, it truly is a parasite … and poisonous. It has been celebrated and even worshipped for centuries, and still has a “naughty but nice” place in holiday celebrations.

Burl Ives, as the loveable, banjo-playing, umbrella-toting and story-narrating snowman in the classic “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” claymation cartoon tells us that one of the secrets to a “Holly Jolly Christmas” is the “mistletoe hung where you can see.” But where does this tradition of giving someone an innocent (or not-so-innocent) peck on the cheek whenever you find yourselves beneath the mistletoe come from? And just what is mistletoe anyway?

While mistletoe specialists need mistletoe, the reverse does not hold—mistletoe in many regions is dispersed solely by dietary generalists.
Distribution of mistletoe (and mistletoe specialist birds). Source: Mistletoe Seed Dispersal. Watson, D.M.

There are around 1500 species of mistletoe around the world, mainly in tropical and warmer climates, distributed on every continent except Antarctica.  In North America, the majority of mistletoe grows in the warmer southern states and Mexico, but some species can be found in the northern US and Canada.  A wide variety of birds feed on the berries of mistletoe and thus disperse seeds.  These birds include generalists who opportunistically feed on mistletoe, and specialists who rely on the berries as a major food source.

Mistletoe Haustoria from from Julius Sachs’ 1887 Lectures on Plant Physiology. Source: The Mistletoe Pages

First, we’ll cover the not-so-romantic bits of this little plant.  Mistletoe is a parasitic plant that grows in a variety of tree species by sinking root-like structures called haustoria into the branches of its host trees to obtain nutrients and nourishment. It provides nothing in return to the tree, which is why it is considered a parasite.

 

A heavy mistletoe infestation.                        Source: Pixabay

Mistletoe grows and spreads relatively slowly, so it typically does not pose an immediate risk to most trees.  While a few small colonies of mistletoe may not cause problems, trees with heavy infestations of mistletoe could have reduced vigor, stunting, or susceptibility to other issues like disease, drought, and heat. So be on the lookout for mistletoe in your trees and monitor it’s progression.

This little plant does have a long and storied history — from Norse mythology, to the Druids, and then finally European Christmas celebrations. Perhaps one of the most interesting things about the plant is the name. While there are varying sources for the name, the most generally accepted (and funniest) origin is German “mist” (dung) and “tang” (branch). A rough translation, then, would be “poop on a stick,” which comes from the fact that the plants are spread from tree to tree through seeds in bird droppings.

“Baldur’s Death” by Christoffer Wilhelm Eckersberg (1817)

In Norse mythology, the goddess Frigga (or Fricka for fans of Wagner’s operas) was an overprotective mother who made every object on Earth promise not to hurt her son, Baldr. She, of course, overlooked mistletoe because it was too small and young to do any harm. Finding this out, the trickster god Loki made a spear from mistletoe and gave it to Baldr’s blind brother Hod and tricked him into throwing it at Baldr (it was apparently a pastime to bounce objects off of Baldr, since he couldn’t be hurt).

Baldr, of course, died and Frigga was devastated. The white berries of the mistletoe are said to represent her tears, and as a memorial to her son she declared that the plant should represent love and that no harm should befall anyone standing beneath its branches.

The ancient Druids also held mistletoe in high esteem, so high that it could almost be called worship. During winter solstice celebrations, the Druids would harvest mistletoe from oak trees (which is rare — oak is not a common tree to see mistletoe in) using a golden sickle. The sprigs of mistletoe, which were not allowed to touch the ground, would then be distributed for people to hang above their doorways to ward off evil spirits.

While the collecting and displaying of mistletoe was likely incorporated into celebrations when Christmas became widespread in Europe in the third century, we don’t really see mention of it used specifically as a Christmas decoration until the 17th century. Custom dictates that mistletoe be hung in the home on Christmas Eve to protect the home, where it can stay until the next Christmas Eve or be removed on Candlemas (which is Feb. 2). The custom of kissing beneath the parasitic plant isn’t seen as part of the celebration until a century later.

Washington Irving, who more or less reinvigorated the celebration of Christmas in the United States in his day and whose writings still define the idyllic American Christmas celebration, reminisced quite humorously about mistletoe and Christmas from his travels to England. He wrote:

“Here were kept up the old games … [and] the Yule log and Christmas candle were regularly burnt, and the mistletoe with its white berries hung up, to the imminent peril of all the pretty housemaids.”

Whether or not your housemaids will be in peril, the hanging of the mistletoe can be a fun Christmas tradition. Look for it at garden centers and Christmas tree lots this season.  Or maybe you can find some growing wild and harvest it for your own decor. However, I would recommend not getting it out of the trees the “old Southern way” — shooting it out with a shotgun.

Sources:

  • Tainter, F.H. (2002). What Does Mistletoe Have To Do With Christmas?  APSnet Features. Online. doi: 10.1094/APSnetFeature-2002-1202
  • Briggs, J. (2000). What is Mistletoe? The Mistletoe Pages – Biology. Online. http://mistletoe.org.uk/homewp/
  • Watson, DM. (n.d.) (accessed). Mistletoe Seed Disperal [Blog Post]. Retrieved from https://ecosystemunraveller.com/connectivity/ecology-of-parasitic-plants/mistletoe-seed-dispersal/
  • Norse Mythology for Smart People. (nd) The Death of Baldur. Retrieved from https://norse-mythology.org/tales/the-death-of-baldur/

 

Thanksgiving: A celebration of the native plants and indigenous crops that grace the table

Native vs. non-native – that a subject that is brought up frequently on our forums and one we have to discuss at length.  However, I thought I’d take it from a different direction this week, a little diversion if you will, seeing as we are just a week away from our American celebration of Thanksgiving that centers around food – much of it native to the United States.

It is a holiday that is quintessentially American (or North American, since our Canadian friends also have their own Thanksgiving). A commemoration of not only the arrival and survival of the pilgrims in Plymouth in 1621, but of our thankfulness for what we have. It is a time for us to gather with family or friends and reflect upon our blessings.

While, much to my chagrin (and that of many others), Thanksgiving seems to have been swallowed up by the Christmas “season” and you can even go shopping for more stuff (an abomination, for sure) on a day when we are supposed to be thankful for what we have, it is still a day celebrated by many.

Turkey, dressing, potatoes, fresh bread rolls and pumpkin pie are the traditional fare for the celebration these days, but they are a far cry from what the original feast shared by the pilgrims and American Indians would have featured.

Historians agree that, while the feast was probably meat-heavy, turkey was probably not on the menu. It just wasn’t as popular a food item as it is today. Most agree that the original feast featured venison, with some waterfowl (goose or duck) and seafood (shellfish like oysters are a definite, maybe even eels or other shellfish).

I don’t think I’m alone in saying that I like the side dishes better than I like the actual turkey. There’s the dressing (or stuffing, depending on your preparation or colloquial terminology), mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, and my aunt’s seven-layer salad that’s usually more mayo and bacon bits than vegetation.

The produce dishes at the first Thanksgiving would have been vastly different than the modern day smörgåsbord that we prepare. Experts agree that the majority of dishes would have been from native plants and indigenous crops grown by the local tribes, with a few ingredients showing up from the pilgrims’ gardens.

First off, the absence of wheat flour, sweetener and flour would mean the lack of the classic dessert…pumpkin pie. It is hard to imagine a lack of pumpkin while we live in a time in which we are surrounded by pumpkin spice everything (though mostly artificially flavored).

Sugar would have been too expensive to purchase for the voyage, and other sweeteners would have been limited to maple or other tree syrups. (Colonists had not yet brought over the honey bee, which is a European immigrant itself).

This is not to say that there wasn’t squash. There were squashes, including pumpkins, as part of the native diet at the time having spread from their origins in Mexico and Central America  . They were likely included in the feast, but either boiled or roasted, and unsweetened.

Beans would have probably been one of the dishes, as well. The Natives Americans ate beans both in dry and green form, but at a fall feast, the beans were likely the dried variety and cooked into a soup or stew. Corn was also a feature of the first Thanksgiving, but not sweet corn (which didn’t make an appearance until much later). The corn would have been a flint type (similar to popcorn) that would have been cooked into porridge or used as a bread.

Native tree nuts, such as walnuts, chestnuts and beech nuts could have also been used in the preparation of dishes. There isn’t any written record of the native cranberry or blueberry being used, either, but they would have been abundant in the area. They likely wouldn’t have caught on in popularity until sweeteners such as sugar from Europe or honey was available to dull their acidic bite, but the dried fruits could have been used in preparations of some of the meat. If there was a salad, watercress could have been used if an early frost hadn’t wiped it out.

The pilgrims had brought with them from Europe various seeds, including herbs and onions, that could have been used to flavor some of the dishes. They may have also brought things like turnips and carrots that could have been available for the first feast (though there isn’t any direct written proof).

One native food that would have most likely been on the first Thanksgiving table is the sunchoke (Helianthus tuberosus), or Jerusalem artichoke. Fallen out of favor for some time, the sunchoke is making its return to many gardens.

Image result for jerusalem artichoke
Jerusalem artichoke/sunchoke flower Wikimedia Commons

A true native food source, the sunchoke is the tuberous root of a species of sunflower (you may even see them growing on roadsides in the fall). The rhizome is roasted or boiled and has a nutty, starchy, potato-like texture and flavor. If you want to grow it, just remember that it is a perennial that will readily spread in the garden. These would have been the closest things to a potato dish the first celebrants would have eaten — we were still a long way away from bringing the potato from South America and the sweet potato from the Caribbean. (Botanist’s note: What we eat are sweet potatoes [Ipomea batatas], not yams [Dioscorea sp.], despite the insistence of canning companies. They aren’t even in the same family.)

So as you sit down for your Thanksgiving feast, be thankful for the blessings in your life and for the leaps and bounds our food options have improved over the past 400 years. Also be thankful for butter, flour, and sugar so you can have your pumpkin pie.

Bot-strosities

Those of you who are Stephen King fans will remember the Lobstrosities from the Dark Tower series: bizarre creatures that were part lobster and part scorpion and with the nastiest parts of each on either end.

Deadly but delicious

Botstrosities are bizarre plants that aren’t deadly but still assault the senses of those who are unfortunate enough to find them. Here’s my collection – maybe you have others to add?

First up are a classic favorite  – the GMOs (Glue Modified Organisms). Why bother with years of hybridizing when you’ve got a glue gun?

Strawflower cacti

Not exactly subtle hybridization

Everyone knows Cosmic Crisp apples. Now we’ve got Kosmik Kactus! Never mind they aren’t cacti. What I can’t wait for is these aloes to develop “glistening white” or “golden yellow” spines.

Definitely some alien species we could do without

A rainbow from hell

Continuing the unfortunate trend of spraypainting plants, here are some for your favorite football fan (assuming their team is the Seahawks). Question: do other regions have spraypainted heaths in their team colors?

Now this Calluna vulgaris is truly vulgar

And do look forward to metallic jades for the winter holidays!

The perfect gift for the plant lover you hate

Spray painting too obvious for you? Well, how about surgically altered orchids? If you can’t figure out how the flowers developed this garish blue mottling just look closely at the stem.

They might as well be plastic – unnaturally colored and staked upright

Yep, that’s an injection site

We certainly wouldn’t sell spraypainted birds or kittens with bows glued on their heads. Just say no to these horticultural horrors!

You, too, can be up to your pits in perennials!

(posted by Holly Scoggins)
The Perennial Plant Association (PPA) is a unique group of folks – comprised of plant breeders, educators, propagators, promoters, garden writers, growers, retailers, gardeners, and landscape designers – all under one umbrella. The PPA is probably one of the most vertically-integrated plant organizations out there. If it has anything to do with a perennial plant, there’s a good chance one of our members is involved.

The marvelous/legendary PPA Symposium has been held in all parts of the country. This year’s perennial-fest is in Raleigh NC.  This goes back to my particular roots with the organization – my first PPA experience was in 1997 symposium, also in Raleigh, while I was grad student at NC State. Helped out in a few capacities, including tour bus wrangler (on the surprisingly rowdy bus, no less).

A special feature THIS year in Raleigh will be a one-day plant-geek-fest, open to the public as a separate registration item (of course any perennial freaks are absolutely welcome to attend the entire week of symposium events as well!).

Many/most of you are not located in the Mid-Atlantic/Southeastern region of the U.S. So why I am I touting this here? Because some of my biggest Ah-Ha! moments regarding growing and gardening have happened in places far from my comfort/hardiness zone. And the plants…oh the plants. In searching through my older GP posts, I’ve mentioned the PPA at least 9 times.

Recent examples: In 2016, the PPA symposium was in Minnesota… really opened my eyes, heart, and wallet to some lesser-known prairie species and design concepts. I probably have one of the larger Silphium collections in Southwest Virginia now. Whoops.

Last year’s symposium in Denver, Colorado brought with it awesome alpines and steppe plants – many of which I could grow here, with a bit of assistance from enhanced drainage. Of course there were also examples galore of rock gardening techniques to help make that “enhanced drainage” thing happen.  Beyond the plants and gardens, another highlight is the opportunity to meet the area’s botanical movers and shakers that I wouldn’t have had otherwise. So much positive, fun energy –  helps to remind me why I do this thing!

Joseph Tychonievich experiencing Perennial Overload Syndrome at the 2017 Perennial Plant Association Symposium last year in Denver. Triage included some deep breathing and a Sprite. Plant: Dalea candida. Place: Chatfield Farms, Denver Botanic Garden. Photo: H. Scoggins.

So…trust me when I say driving for 6-8-10 hours or hopping on a plane to the handy-dandy RDU airport will be WORTH IT. Especially if you stick around for core symposium including fab tours to private and public gardens, independent garden centers, behind-the-scenes at wholesale nurseries, and (wait for it) dinner and garden wandering/shopping opportunities at Plant Delights Nursery.

Back to the “Spend the Day with Perennial Plants” opportunity on Monday, July 30 – Check out this lineup for the plant talk day – and note the geographic diversity of the speakers – again, this isn’t just a “Southeast” thing!

– Patrick McMillan is an Emmy Award-winning host, co-creator, and writer of the popular nature program, Expeditions with Patrick McMillan . He’ll highlight Carolina native perennials for the garden in a morning talk. Later that afternoon, he’ll cover Southwestern plants we can use in the Southeast to cope with drought.

– George Coombs manages the horticultural research program at the Mt. Cuba Center in Hockessin, Delaware. This renowned botanical garden focuses on native plants, and their plant evaluations are making a big splash in the industry. Get a peek at the top-performing selections and find out what it takes to stand out in their trials.

– Christian Kress owns a specialty nursery in Austria that focuses on rare perennials from around the world. He’s traveled extensively, authored books, and introduced several beloved perennials to the market. He’ll  bring the knowledge on flocks of Phlox (!) and introduce us to the amazing selections coming out of Russia.

– Judith Jones owns Fancy Frond Nursery in Gold Bar, Washington. She’ll open the world of ferns and inspire a new appreciation for their role in the landscape. [Am hopeful that frond puns will abound.]

Other presentations include iris breeder Kevin Vaughn; John Kartesz on native plant inventory software that generates customizable maps and databases; Larry Mellichamp on the world of unusual, surprising and bizarre plants; and Lauri Lawson on medicinal plants.

ALL THIS IN ONE DAY, PEOPLE.

The whole shebang takes place at the Hilton North Raleigh/Midtown. Advanced registration is required and early bird pricing ends June 1. See the program description and get registration information on the PPA Raleigh website.  Be sure to check out the glorious e-Brochure just posted on the symposium home page. Hit me below with any questions – and would LOVE to see you there!

The Handy Dandy Dibber

A dibber, also called a dibbler (the garden tool, not the small nocturnal marsupial),  has many uses in the garden and greenhouse.  It also offers the opportunity to announce your intentions of dibbing (or dibbling). I’m a huge fan.

For example: just planted the last of my fall bulb purchases.  One of packs remaining was Allium unifolium, left over from installing our Allium field trials. (28 species and cultivars – woo! Beats doing research on soybeans or something.)  These little bulbs are about the size of nickel – even the smallest hand spade is overkill. I think I’ll just grab the dibber!

dibsandalliumHSFor the uninitiated, a dibber or dibbler is simply a very sturdy, pokey thing, with a nice ergonomic handle.  To use, simply scatter bulbs (never, ever in rows)…  scatterandpokePoke and plop. Went about 5″ to 6″ deep for these wee bulbs. Goes really fast once you’ve honed your dibbing skills.

holesAs a bulb-planting strategy, I like to leave them all uncovered until I’ve got the whole batch situated.  Then make like a squirrel and cover the bulbs!

doneVoila.  Done in 60 seconds! Though I’ll probably forget where I planted them within 60 minutes (which does make for a pleasant surprise come spring time – “Oh look! Alliums!”)

 

 

A Resilient Citrus Tree Rebounds

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Sad Citrus

The last two winters have been pretty brutal on my citrus trees.  Their winter home is the enclosed, but unheated, south facing entrance foyer.  Usually, this is a perfect spot.  Sunny, and with temperatures usually in 45-60 degree range.  But when the polar vortex brought record cold to the Mid Atlantic region back in February, they were hit hard, and I had my doubts that this 13 year old specimen would survive.

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Happy Citrus

But it bounced back pretty well, after a season in the sun, so I figured it should be rewarded … I’d give it a new home, replacing its split container … and document the process here.

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Prep Area

drill

Drainage Holes Drilled

Process2

Whew! No Pebbles in the Bottom!

Parsley

Rescued Parsley

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Uh Oh, The Dreaded Circling Root.

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Snip Snip

DoneChips

Wood Chip Mulch, of Course

DoneDone

Voila!  Ready to Move Inside

 

Mitchella repens … Partridge Berry … an Evergreen Native Groundcover for Shade

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Partridge Berry in its Natural Setting

One of the questions that came up regularly when I was working the hotline at the local county Extension office, is a recommendation for an evergreen ground cover for shady spots.  I had the same issue when I created my own shade garden … something that would have year round interest, but complement my desire to emphasize native species, although that was only one consideration.

The solution was literally right next to me, as a walk in my woods revealed with the lovely plant Partridge Berry, or Mitchella repens.

Not only is Partridge Berry (Mitchella repens ) beautiful, evergreen, shade-loving, and native to Eastern North America, but there’s also a fascinating aspect about its flowers and fruit, from a botanical, and evolutionary point of view.

According to the U.S. Forest Service Celebrating Wildflowers website, the “… genus name Mitchella was given to this plant by Linnaeus for his friend John Mitchell, a physician who developed a method of treating yellow fever. The species name repens refers to its trailing or creeping habit.”

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Here’s the part I found fascinating: The plant is dimorphous, meaning “occurring in two forms”:

In late spring, two beautiful white flowers (with one calyx) each open their four petals to entice insects to collect their nectar. Each blossom has one pistil and four stamens. The pistil in one is short and the stamens are long. In the other it is just the opposite. … Because of this no flower can fertilize itself–all flowers must be cross-pollinated by insects, and both flowers must be pollinated to get a single healthy berry. A berry will stay on the vine until after the blooms appear in the spring unless a hungry bird finds it nestled among the fallen winter leaves.

How cool is that?  The twin flowers produce, together, only one berry.

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Here’s a closeup, where you can see residual evidence of the fusion.  The berry is edible, and persists through the winter, assuming it is not consumed by “ruffed grouse, northern bobwhite, sharp-tailed grouse, and prairie chicken.

The fruit is also “frequently eaten by raccoons and red fox” and it has been reported that “partridgeberry made up 2.9 to 3.4 percent (dry weight) of the summer and fall diets of white-tailed deer.”

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Here’s a picture of the two flowers in bloom.

It’s easiest to spot the plant in its natural setting while hiking in late Fall, or early Winter before snowfall, or early Spring after snowmelt.

Back to the Forest Service article:

Some gardeners consider Partridge Berry a must for winter gardens. During the cold days of late winter Partridge Berry is a treat to the eyes with its deep, dark-green leaves and occasional scarlet berries. In a garden setting this evergreen prefers shade, accepting the morning sun. Partridge Berry is extremely difficult to propagate from seed.

The best way to introduce this native into your garden is through 1 year old cuttings or by division. In the garden situation they will form a thick, substantial ground cover. Once established they are relatively trouble free with the only required maintenance of keeping garden debris from covering the mats.

As always, do not wild collect plants from public lands and only from private lands when the landowner grants permission. Partridge Berry is a commonly available plant from native plant nurseries especially those who specialize in woodland plants.

I love the symmetrical variegation in the evergreen leaves, a bright, light yellow line bisecting each leaf, and the delicate, less visible veins.

It’s a great alternative to Vinca, an introduced species from Europe that appears on invasive species lists in our area.

A Google search will reveal many potential on-line sources for buying Partridge Berry plants, or check with a local nursery, or independent gardening center in the native plant section.

Confessions of a Lazy Gardener

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I admit it.  I can’t keep up … I’m not as industrious as most of my gardening friends are when it comes to the effort necessary to manage my 6 acre landscape.

It can get overwhelming, especially when there are previous beds that came with the property that had been neglected for 10 years or more by the elderly lady who owned the property before us, and where perennial weeds are well established.

I make a valiant effort in the Spring, with all the enthusiasm of the new season to clean them up … dig the perennial weeds … plant something new (usually a division, or a naturally layered specimen, from elsewhere, or one shared from friends), but by mid-July or so, I have to redirect my efforts to the places that I’ve created … the shade garden … the rock (mostly sedum) garden … mulching the new trees and shrubs, and of course my tomatoes, so these previous places don’t get the attention they deserve.

But then again, some surprisingly beautiful, and beneficial results can happen in spite of (because of?) the neglect …

NeglectedBed2

This is a “pre-me” bed of mostly Japanese Anemone stretching between two arbors, with Trumpet Vine (Campsis radicans) (pre-existing), and Climbing Hydrangeas (Hydrangea anomala) (me added), anchoring each end.

The Goldenrod (Solidago) and White Snakeroot (Ageratina altissima I think) now dominate, along with Sweet Autumn Clematis (C. terniflora), a non-native introduction that appears on watch lists as an invasive species in our area.

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Yet look at the insect life.  Scads of hoverflies (some species of Syrphid), who in addition to their role as pollinators as adults, are voracious consumers of aphids in their larval stage.

Scoliid

Scoliid wasp, predatory on Japanese Beetles.

Ailanthus Moth

An Ailanthus Webworm Moth (Atteva aurea), which uses the invasive Tree of Heaven (Ailanthus altissima) as its larval source for food.

Honeybee

And my, and most folks favorite these days, honeybees (Apis mellifera)

Hydrangea

And if I kept up the weeding of this neglected bed, would there be a self-seeded Hydrangea paniculata available to transplant elsewhere?

So, probably a rationalization to justify my laziness … but looking on the bright side, there can be beneficial results from my neglect.