I’m in Dallas for the next 4 days attending the GWA (Garden Writers Association) annual conference. (I get to give a talk on Horticultural CSI on Sunday!) Tonight we had a slew of vendors to explore, and among the offerings I found this plant:
So today’s question – what is this plant? And what makes it so unusual? The first question might be easy – the second one, not so much.
Answer and more info on Monday!
One of the products that I often hear gardeners raving about are their fertilizer / pesticide combination spikes which are supposed to not only feed your plants, but also kill all of the insects which attack them. I, personally, have not used these products, but I’m generally the kind of person who says “If it works for you then keep using it”. Still, these spikes bug me a little. Here’s why.
First of all I should point out that I’m not opposed to fertilizer spikes by themselves. I’m a little concerned that fertilizer should be spread out instead of concentrated in one place, but still, I don’t consider them that bad. The insecticides used for these spikes is where I have the problem. Once upon a time these spikes were made with a chemical called disulfoton (aka disyston) which is bad news. It’s a water soluble chemical which is highly toxic to people. If you have an old package of fertilizer / insecticide spikes around there’s a good chance they were made with this chemical. Do yourself a favor and get rid of them. This stuff is really toxic and not to be messed with. On the other hand, if you’ve purchased fertilizer / insecticide spikes recently, then the active insecticide in those spikes is probably imidacloprid. Imidacloprid is a mixed bag when it comes to safety. It’s not nealy as toxic as disulfoton, but it’s not non-toxic. It has been banned in Europe for a variety of reasons, the most important of which seems to be that it was implicated in the collapse of bee hives (imidacloprid is systemic insecticide so it will get into a plants pollen where honey bees could eat it). At this point it hasn’t been ruled out as having something to do with hive collapse here in the states — though if it does have a role it does not seem to act alone. It can also affect other beneficial insects who feed on pollen. Additionally, it has been known to control some pests while allowing mites to go crazy — in fact, it may even increase the rate of mite egg laying.
But imidacloprid is an effective insecticide which works against a wide range of insects which you that you might find on your plants. It is much safer than many of the older systemic insecticides, and it isn’t readily translocated to fruits (a problem that many people are concerned about with systemic insecticides is the movement of these insecticides into the fruit itself where it can’t be washed off — Imidacloprid is translocated to fruits –just not that much — it moves in the xylem and fruit takes up mostly phloem).
So these spikes are one of those things that I’m wary of. Not to say you shouldn’t use them, but be aware of what they are and what they could do before you buy them.
Since we’re back on the alien train (spaceship?), I thought I’d bring up another of my least favorite shrubs – Scots broom – as our next installation of WOW (why oh why?).
Scots (or scotch) broom (Cytisus scoparius) is a much-reviled intruder in the western and eastern United States. Originally introduced as a sturdy ornamental, this legume quickly invaded disturbed areas and is labeled as a noxious weed in several western states. In Washington, it’s quarantined. Research dollars have been dedicated to studying best methods of eradication. So it doesn’t take a rocket scientist (or even a garden professor) to figure out that it’s probably not a wise addition to one’s landscape.
But apparently some nurseries either (1) haven’t paid attention or (2) don’t care. In a quick look at the internet, I found nurseries in many states, including Oregon and California, that sell this species. Many will argue that they are selling “less invasive” or “sterile” cultivars, which is a poor excuse in my opinion. Readers of this blog know by now that cultivars often revert to wild type, and there’s no reason to assume that broom cultivars are exempt from this ability. Furthermore, we know that plants have the ability to extend their ranges past what we think they are (hello kudzu?).
Just popping in to say hello
There are many ornamental alternatives to Scots broom that can easily be found online or in print. I’d love to hear some rational arguments from nursery owners, landscape designers, or anyone else justifying the sale of this plant.
Loyal reader and thoughtful commenter Ray Eckhart posted a while back (something along the lines of) wouldn’t it be nice if we could come to some agreement on all this “what’s invasive” terminology. This has been flitting in and out of my brain but has not found sufficient gray matter to come to rest. Regardless, here goes. I’ve attempted to capture these concepts in as few words as possible. My opinions in no way reflect those of the Garden Professors, blog host Washington State University, or anyone else important, for that matter.
Native. From these here parts.
Or this half/region/corner of the Continent, depending on your definition. And there are LOTS of them. We had this discussion in my Herbaceous Landscape Plants class last week. My students alone came up with 10 different definitions and/or criteria, all probably legit. I teach a plant as native if it is found east of the Mississippi (these are garden plants, it’s not a botany class). I try to describe its “nativeness” more in terms of whatever biome it came from (tall grass prairie, deciduous piedmont forest, etc.) as cue to how to best use it in the landscape. If it’s found even closer to home, I find myself describing it as “really native” which makes no sense, but I can’t seem to stop.
Alien. Not from here (wherever here is).
Is a broader term than “native” because “here” seems to refer to land masses, whether continental or island. Alien has a rather negative and even inter-planetary vibe to it. “Must…thinkofway… to… eliminate… Japanese Privet. Helpme…, Spock.”
Non-native. The kinder, gentler alien.
As in, Hosta are not going to take over the planet. Even though non-native is often used in the same breath as alien, we need it to stand on its own in this case: what do you call a Calochortus (Mariposa Lily) in Virginia? It’s not native to the east coast, but species of the genus are native to the western part of continental North America and further south. So I deem it non-native, but not alien. Maybe “mail-order” should be a category.
Exotic. An attractive but promiscuous alien.
Invasive. Aliens amuck.
Lists are created, but are unfortunately often ignored (see previous post on ligustrum). There are lots of good invasive plant definitions out there. But can native plants ever be invasive? Or are they just “vigorous” or “aggressive”? See below.
Vigorous. This has positive connotations. Holds its own in difficult situations, makes lots more of itself, can share with friends.
Aggressive. See vigorous, but cue theme to Jaws. Makes a WHOLE LOT more of itself. Can share with unsuspecting friends.
Passive-aggressive. Just when you think “I don’t know what all the fuss was about”, BAM you’re pulling out it of every nook and cranny. I can think of many examples – good fodder for a future post.
Based on these definitions, I see a few of our favorite garden natives as aggressive or passive-aggressive. You’re not sure whether to be pleased or perturbed that a delightful, wildlife-friendly native is reseeding all over your garden. Two examples right here in our campus garden: Joe Pye (Eupatorium purpureum) and Cup Plant (Silphium perfoliatum). Completely out of hand.
I am no authority on this stuff, just happy to be part of the conversation. Feel free to agree/disagree. But please be gentle; I’m suffering from a late night of watching the Hokies get splatted by Boise State (invasive Broncos).
One of the advantages of having a couple acres (and not being especially fastidious about weeding) is that sometimes you get your landscape plants for free. I always keep an eye out for interesting plants that may turn up on their own – or a least get left behind by our bird friends. Here are some volunteers that have shown up recently at Daisy Hill farm that I’ll work into the landscape.
Sassafras (Sassafras albidum) are notoriously difficult to transplant. I’ll leave these sassafras volunteers where there are and relocate the shrubs in the bed. I’m looking forward to some awesome fall color in a few years.
The native range of redbud (Cercis canadensis) only extends into the southernmost counties of Michigan but they generally do fine here in the Lansing area (just north of the end of the native range). We have an old redbud in the front of our house so we get volunteers from time to time. This one is on the edge of our patio so it’s easy to keep an eye on. I’ll let it grow on another year or so and then find it home.
Most people probably wouldn’t get too excited about eastern redcedars (Juniperus virginiana) showing up on their own. When I was with the US Forest Service, my grad student and I did research on seed germination of eastern redcedar and Rocky mountain juniper (J. scopulorum). Ironically they can be difficult to grow as seedlings in nurseries because the seed are doubly dormant (they have a tough seed coat that requires scarification and the embryo is dormant and requires cold stratification). I’m planting conifers as a screen on the south side of property. I’ll move these guys and a couple of their friends in the spring.
Finally, I’ve given a quiz that’s fooled everyone!
Believe it or not, this is a foxglove flower mutation:
Often, species with irregular flower will have flower which revert to a more primitive form. In the case of foxglove, the bilaterally symmetrical flower reverts to the ancestral radial form – a phenomenon called peloria. Apparently foxglove floral variations are pretty common and have been reported in the literature for many decades.
Having now depressed my Michigan colleague with my earlier post, here’s a little lighthearted fun for the long weekend:
This photo is from Brandi at Fine Gardening. Can you figure out (1) what it is and (2) why it looks like this?
Monday’s photo will reveal more, and we’ll discuss the second question in more detail.
Have a great holiday – enjoy yourselves!
“The Texas A&M University System is moving ahead with a controversial method of evaluating how much professors are worth, based on their salaries, how much research money they bring in, and how much money they generate from teaching, The Bryan-College Station Eagle reports. Under the proposal, officials will add the money generated by each professor and subtract that amount from his or her salary to get a bottom-line value for each, according to the article.”
This bodes ill for faculty like myself who have Extension appointments. For those of you who aren’t familiar with how Extension works, Extension specialists educate citizens outside university classrooms. But with declining state support for universities, their administrators in turn focus on income generation from grants and tuition. Extension specialists do get grants, but for those of us in areas outside food and fiber research (which is what the USDA funds), there’s not much money available.
Bottom line? According to this model I’m not just worth nothing – I’m worth less than nothing. I’m not worried about my job (I have tenure after all), but for the direction that outreach education is heading. What will happen is that Extension specialists will be pushed back into classroom teaching, leaving no time for educating the rest of the state citizens. Outreach education will become little more than an afterthought.
The ironic thing about this trend is that Extension is one of the biggest bargains states get from their land grant universities. Extension education includes Master Gardeners as well as other programs tailored to local state and county needs.
It’s sad that Texas A&M puts so little value on outreach education. What’s even sadder is that this economic approach will undoubtedly be adopted by other state universities.
Sometimes I am not such a good garden professor. That’s because, when I get home, I sometimes (OK — often) don’t give my plants the attention they need. It’s also because, when we leave for vacation, I often forget to tell whoever is watching the animals to keep their eyes on the plants too. Now, really, you would think that someone who saw a plant on the back porch in full wilt would think “Hey, Maybe I should water that!” But still, I blame myself for not spelling it out.
What this all leads to, of course, is that we had a group of really nice basil plants in a container on the back porch which weren’t watered for a week while we were on vacation. There was little rain over this week, and subsequently the basil was in full wilt for at least 2 days (perhaps as long as three). We watered these plants soon after we arrived home (my wife loves caprese salad) and the plants perked up a bit, but the leaves were obviously damaged and now our salads will be a little less flat.
It’s not just basil that is affected by an incidence of drought. Most plants, including trees, will actually suffer for a considerable period of time after the event. Sometimes growth won’t return to normal for as much as a year or two. This is a really bad situation if you’re buying trees grown in containers. If the grower, or retailer, didn’t know what they were doing and let the tree wilt severely prior to selling it to you then buyer beware!
Almost a year ago I posted my complaints about rubber mulch (you can find the posting here). This week I was contacted by Jesse, a purveyor of rubber mulches. We’ve had a very civil discussion about the topic, and he asked me to review his fact sheet.
Which leads me to today’s assignment. I have no personal experience with rubber mulch, so I’d like to hear from you about your experiences with this product. Specifically:
1) Have you seen fungi growing on rubber mulch?
2) Have you had issues with the heat captured by the product – either to your feet or to your plants?
3) Does the mulch continue to smell, especially when hot?
4) How quickly do you notice degradation of the product?
Obviously this is anecdotal, not scientific, evidence. But the scientific literature regarding rubber mulch is thin, and anecdotal evidence can often indicate directions that science should explore. Perhaps this can be the beginning of such a study.