Just downloading some photos from the end of the summer, and found this. Rarely can I work up sympathy for a tomato hornworm (Manduca quinquemaculata). Though the moth is quite lovely, the caterpillars really did a number on my tomatoes (and two spindly eggplants) this year, and I recall joyously taking this photo in August.
However, I’ve had a rough Monday, and can kind of relate to being covered in Braconid wasp pupae. The larvae have chewed their way through the caterpillar, to spin their grisly cocoons of death (would have made a great post a couple of weeks ago) and dangle there in the breeze until emerging. I know it is nature’s way, but, dang.
After writing about the unusually bad scourge of Japanese Beetles earlier in the month, I thought I’d continue on down the “garden bugs” path. The Japanese Beetles have died down, but now we have oodles of these pretty black and yellow-spotted waspy things around. They’re everywhere, and in large numbers. I planted some buckwheat over our potato garden bed, and it is covered up with them. The point of the buckwheat was as a primo late-season nectar source for our honeybee hives as they prepare for winter. Blooming for the last week or two, I kept checking it expecting to see happy bees, feasting away. Nada. Just the wasps.
Intriguing. A brief googling revealed the wasp to be Scolia dubia, one of the “digger wasps.” They rarely sting, and better yet -their larvae are parasites of Japanese Beetles! All that swooping around over our so-called lawn is apparently the mating dance, then the female digs into the soil to find the grubs. After stinging the grub, she lays an egg…and you see where this is going. Cozy winter grub cocoon for the pupating larvae!
Blue Wing Digging Wasp on buckwheat.
Back to the bed of gourmet buckwheat. I’m thrilled to see all those wasps feeding on the nectar. Eat, dig, and be merry, ladies! But what about the honeybees – seemingly ignoring this glorious patch of buckwheat planted just for them? I don’t need any more picky eaters…aren’t our two dinner-snubbing dogs enough? So I asked Dr. Richard Fell, legendary Apiculture faculty here at Virginia Tech, about this mystery. “Honeybees only work buckwheat in the morning” sayeth Rick. Went out this morning and observed that buckwheat is indeed the breakfast of champions. The entire patch was literally humming with multiple species, including loads of honeybees. I’d only been checking in the evening.
Addendum:
So my post apparently isn’t breaking news. Just came across this as I checked my Scolia spelling. Sounds like they had beetles galore in Maryland as well this summer.
If you’re not familiar with Dr. Michael Raupp, Entomologist and Extension Specialist at University of Maryland, he’s awesome, and his “Bug of the Week” blog is a must. His September 1 post reviews the digger wasp/japanese beetle relationship as well, with more factoids and a lovely video featuring writhing grubs. http://bugoftheweek.com/blog/2014/9/1/white-grubs-beware-the-blue-winged-digger-wasp-iscolia-dubiai-has-arrived
File this under “if it’s not one thing, it’s another.”
Which may be, upon further reflection, the most profoundly absurd statement ever when it comes to gardening. It’s nature! Of course there’s always something!
Here in the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia, we’ve had insect pests come and go, with each summer featuring something different.
Two years ago? Chewing up everything in the vegetable garden plus lots of perennials… Blister beetles!
Last year we had record rainfall, which brought out the gnats in gnumbers we’d never seen before. While not plant pests, they managed to take a lot of the fun out of gardening, hell-bent on clogging every facial orifice and nibbling on exposed flesh. Then the stinkbugs came. And stayed all winter long, keeping us company in the house.
This season goes down as the summer of Popillia japonica, the Japanese Beetle. Holy cow. I’m no entomologist (let’s ask Dr. Jeff!) so I can’t speak to how we got to this lowly place. But in any gathering of two or more local gardeners, The Beetle Issue will come up immediately.
Orgy in my beans! (NSFW)
There’s a ton of literature out there on life cycle, control, etc. They are a noted pest of turf, as the larvae munch away at the roots before emerging in early summer. I am not personally familiar with that aspect, as we don’t really have turf at our house; it’s a mix of white clover, orchard grass, broadleaf weeds, and some kind of fescue that that still make a decent green substance when mowed to 3.25″ (and viewed from a distance). If I come across grubs while pulling weeds or planting, I’ll call over a couple of hens to take care of business. Biological controls such as spores of bacterial Milky Disease and insect parasitic nematodes have been only marginally successful.
For adult control, the debate continue regarding the efficacy (and wisdom) of traps baited with floral or pheromone lures. “Hey there, neighbor! Mind if your Japanese Beetles come over to my place?” Most of the pesticides recommended in the literature are broad spectrum (pyrethroids, carbaryl, etc.) so, heck no on that count. Hand-picking them into a cup or bucket of soapy water to die a bubbly, fragrant death is an option for a small garden (and extremely patient gardener). Note chickens also enjoy the crunchy outer coating and creamy center; spiny, thrashing legs and all.
Back to our regional plight – they attacked the usual suspects – favoring anything in the Rosaceae family including brambles,apple, etc. Any kind of Hibiscus now looks like a lace doily. Veggies were indiscriminately perforated – the beans were especially hard-hit. All that beetle poop is especially unappetizing on chard. A big surprise was the Japanese or Fall-blooming Anemone. They took mine down to the stem. I am currently enjoying flowers on a stick.
There’s an “Anemone” pun here somewhere..
Both the Anemone and I will live, of course. But here’s the thing. One of the mantras that got us all through one of the coldest winters on record was “At least the bugs won’t be as bad this summer!” Ha, ha! If it’s not one thing, it’s another! Aargh.
Bebe the Wonder Dog says “You’ve got to be kidding…”
I’m sorry I’ve been so quiet, but I am not feeling SPRING. Here in the Blue Ridge of Virginia (Zone 6), March is averaging 10 F below average. Snow and ice is piled up on the north side of buildings. My Herbaceous Landscape Plants class is not impressed by the inch-tall Mertensia and the fact that the only thing we can call a cool-season annual (pansies/violas) is brown mush. All the delightful Zone 7 things I’ve been pushing on people for several years here – er, whoops. This is as far north as I’ve ever lived (please don’t mock me Bert). I’m tired of bales of laundry. Flannel sheets, corduroy, fleece…I am NOT good with winter. I admit I am at my best with only one layer on. And if one more person says “at least we’ll have fewer ticks”…
*snap*
I attempted to clean up our little home greenhouse over the holiday break. There’s no good place to recycle pots around here, and I hate throwing them away…so I suffer from container build-up. Figured I’d sort through the haphazard pile in the corner of the greenhouse, wash and re-stack the useable ones, and finally ditch the busted ones.
As I started separating the first stack, I noted a tiny flash of red. It is well-known and oft-reported among my gardening and grower buddies that the Southern Black Widow (Latrodectus mactans) really enjoys a nice stack of grubby pots. But I hadn’t seen one in quite a while, and not at our current location.
Boy, did I hit the jackpot.
I’m not afraid of spiders. At all. Quite fond of them, actually – they are immensely useful and fascinating critters. And only a very few pose any kind of danger.
In the case of the Black Widow, a bite injects a neurotoxic venom (latrotoxin). The bites and ensuing symptoms are allegedly quite painful, though rarely fatal. In this instance, I chose not to sacrifice my comfort for our collective edification, i.e. “How Bad Can it Hurt?” (see Blister Beetle post).
So, I squished her. But felt pretty bad about it.
As I worked through the stacks, I found another.
Shook her to the floor and did some more tap-dancing. Perhaps it was time to stop taking pictures and put some gloves on.
By the time I got through the entire pile, I’d found and mushed thirteen of them, sized small through pretty darn large. The landscape fabric on the greenhouse floor was peppered with little beige, black, and red blobs (you don’t need to see that photo).
There were none in the stacks of shiny new nursery pots I’d ordered for our blueberry transplants. But if there was some growing media or plant debris still stuck inside, there was a high probability of finding a spider.
Moral of this story? Think twice about leaving a bunch of dirty plant containers piled up. A simple hosing out before I’d stacked them would have probably prevented such a large infestation.
There’s also a significant chance that I will forget all about the need for caution the next time I’m potting up stuff. Which may lead to an even more educational and entertaining blog post, where I describe “Adventures In Lactrodectism.” Because I’m sure I missed a couple, or they’re hiding in the gravel. As the old saying goes,
“Seeing a spider isn’t a problem. It’s a problem when it disappears.”
Miscanthus sinensis along the sidewalk in downtown Blacksburg, Virginia. Sheared into submission.
Textbook “right plant, wrong place.” Miscanthus sinensis is tough, drought tolerant, creates a nice screen, and if the late-blooming cultivars such as ‘Gracillimus’ and ‘Morning Light’ are selected, has little chance of seeding all over. After a few years in place, most cultivars are as wide (or wider) than they are tall. The lovely mounding/flowing habit is why this is the number one ornamental grass sold.
Mounded, rounded habit of Miscanthus as used at the Sarah P. Duke Garden (Durham N.C.).
A better option – a very upright grass such as Calamagrostis x acutiflora ‘Karl Foerster.’ Regardless, this stuff needs to come out. Depending how long it’s been in the ground, a backhoe with probably be required. Or, they can continue carving it into a pillar.
What’s that bit of green poking through the fallen leaves and forest duff? You’ll have to crouch down to get a good look at Wintergreen (Gaultheria procumbens). A mere 3-5″ tall, this teensy shrublet from the Ericaceae family (blueberry, azalea) has little oval leathery leaves, often mottled with purple or brown. A few urn-shaped pink to white flowers appear in early summer are followed by bright red berries. The berries persist well into the winter and help to distinguish it from similar-looking seedlings of mountain laurel or deerberry. When in doubt (or to clear your sinuses), break a leaf in half and inhale deeply. Yes, this humble little plant is the source of methyl salicylate – wintergreen oil – one of the active (though now synthetic) ingredients in IcyHot, Ben Gay, and other lifesaving remedies. Though non-scented versions are now available, that distinctive aroma alerts those nearby that you are an ATHLETE. Or perhaps just getting older*. Another common name is “teaberry” – hence the name of Clark’s chewing gum, flavored by the same compound.
Wintergreen is native throughout the Appalachians from north to south (USDA Hardiness Zones 3-8). Despite the pungent scent, when the acorn supply is low, deer will turn to wintergreen as forage. Birds, squirrels, chipmunks and others snack on the little red wintergreen berries, also redolent with the oil, and presumably have the freshest breath in the animal kingdom. In the garden, wintergreen does best in the shade of deciduous trees in acidic soil rich with leaf mold. Add wintergreen to the long list of N. American natives that have become wildly popular overseas but are under-appreciated here — it’s one of the top-selling nursery plants in Europe. Mix it up with Hellebores and hardy cyclamen to add some wildlife-friendly winter interest in the woodland perennial garden.
I can’t find my own darn photo at the moment, but here’s Gaultheria procumbens courtesy of Hedwig Storch and Wikipedia Commons.
*Speaking of older, honk if you remember the “Teaberry Shuffle.”
No, not Sedum…Cardoon! (Cynara cardunculus). Just a TGIF photo. I love autumn’s many shades of brown – kind of underrated with the fixation on blazing foliage.
Now’s the time to collect and save seeds for next year. Though it seems these are trying to escape…
Just a quick post to try out the new system. Very exciting
Here’s a Halloween-week treat: Solanum pyracanthum – porcupine tomato. Not hardy, very poke-y. Deer don’t mess with it. Native to Madagascar and available through Annie’s Annuals or by seed from several sources. Photo taken in my friend Elissa’s fabulous garden, right before frost last week.
