Insects and Stick-tights

Stick insect

I have to admit I've become a "wuss" in my old age (63).  My vegetable garden is an unsightly sea of weeds encroaching on six sad tomato plants, all corralled behind a deer- and groundhog-proof fence.  It looks like a green cage in a botanic zoo adjacent to my front lawn.

The foundation plantings around the house are all overrun with weeds and vines, and the gutters are sprouting miniature aerial gardens.

When summer comes, I no longer have any motivation to go outside in the heat and humidity to beat back the green hordes.  I didn't used to be this way; I don't know what happened to me.

Anyway, last evening, Kali had to work late.  She didn't know when she would be able to leave work, so I didn't want to go off on a walk or a bike ride, only to have her call me 10 minutes after I departed to tell me she'd be home in a half-hour.  So, instead, I decided to tackle the very modest green spot immediately outside our back door which has been invaded by a plant that generates stick-tight burs.  Last year, I cleared out this mess, but I waited too long so the stick-tights were ripe and they clung to everything, as they are wont (and "designed") to do.  This, year, I decided to make a preemptive strike, and the still-green burs only got a few holds on my arm hairs.  By the way, I don't know the identity of the plant I was clearing out.  Because the plant is no longer flowering and has nondescript leaves, it's almost impossible to identify.

Ripening stick-tight burs

[Update:  Since I published this post a few hours ago, I went back to the weed patch and found some of the plants still had a few flowers on them.  With the help of my wildflower book, I've identified the plant as a woodland native with a great name, Enchanter's-nightshade (Circaea lutetiana candadensis) - a common and completely unassuming denizen of the forest during its growing (i.e., pre-bur-producing) stage.  I also learned that the species is rhizomatous and perennial, which means that it'll grow back next year from the pieces of root I leave in the soil when I pull-up the above ground parts.  I can't wait...] 

In the course of clearing out the weeds, I exposed a stick insect (image above).  These insects are not common in the northern Piedmont, so it was a treat to see one skulking in the vegetation.  Stick insects are herbivores, so this one wasn't stalking prey despite its similarity to the carnivorous mantids.

Eastern Black Swallowtail caterpillar

I also uncovered the caterpillar of an Eastern Black Swallowtail (Papilio polyxenus) clinging tightly to a plant that I was not removing from the garden.  It never moved and was fairly small.  It may have been ready to pupate, but I'm not sure.  One Internet reference said that the last instars of this caterpillar have no dorsal spines, but this one did sport a few black spines.

I did manage to clean out all the stick-tight plants in the area I targeted, then noticed that an adjacent bed had even more than the area I had just cleared.  I guess I know what I'll be doing at least part of this weekend...

Spring in Winter

We're now at Friday at the end of Kali's spring break week.  (For that matter, it's my spring break week, too, because I'm adjunct faculty at one of the universities in Philadelphia.)  In prior years, Kali and I often traveled during this week, but this year we decided to stay in town because the weather has been so bad and unpredictable that we didn't want to risk losing power (and heat), only to return home to find burst pipes (a very distinct possibility this year).  And, we didn't look forward to flight interruptions because of inclement weather.

Because we stayed in town, we decided to spend Wednesday afternoon and evening at the Philadelphia Flower Show, the largest and oldest flower show in North America.  While we had pretty much made up our minds last weekend to attend the show, the show organizers on Monday made the unprecedented decision to offer a significant reduction in the entrance fee because meteorologists had forecast the worst snowstorm of the season for Sunday night into Monday, a storm which - fortunately - veered to our south and only brought us 1-1/2 inches of snow instead of the forecast 12 inches.  The discount offer, which was good for any day of the show but had to be purchased on Monday, clinched our decision.

The theme of this year's show was ARTiculture (art + horticulture).  Most years, the displays seem to have only the most tenuous connection to the theme, but this year the designers really took it to heart.  My favorite display is depicted in the image at the top of the post - a backyard garden incorporating sculpture and plant material.  The design is bold and has clean, distinct, uncluttered lines.  Exactly to my taste.

Another of my favorites was a joint effort between the Brandywine Conservancy, a regional land trust, and a garden designer.  The Brandywine valley, located 20 miles west of Philadelphia, was the home of the Wyeth family, including such well-known artists as Andrew Wyeth and Jamie Wyeth.  The conservancy's exhibit incorporated a facsimile of a portion of Andrew Wyeth's painting studio into native woodlands.  The design also included the most natural-looking artificial stream I have ever seen in my life.  Another impressive achievement.       

Andrew Wyeth's studio in the woods

Native woodland garden outside Wyeth's studio

Much less ambitious but equally delightful was a small display created by the Hudson Valley Seed Library.  This non-profit organization is dedicated to saving, growing, and sharing heirloom seeds.  In addition - and this is the good part - they sponsor a contest for artists to create paintings based on the heirloom flowers and fruits, and then the Seed Library incorporates the winning artwork into the seed packets they offer for sale.  The Library's display included both the winning artwork and the seed packets that resulted from that artwork.  What a great idea!  The Library had also set-up a booth in the vendors' area where they were selling the seeds.  I bought some basil, chard, and Tiny Tim Tomato seeds. 

Hudson Valley Seed Library's art-inspired seed packs

Diminished Expectations

 

Unless there are some unexpected surprises, I expect to retire in six years and seven months.  Because Kali and I live in a house provided by my employer, we will have to move when I retire--an opportunity to relocate to the mountainous West, we hope.  We've got many friends who are getting older and downsizing, so it's not unreasonable to begin to downsize ourselves right now in anticipation of our move; six years pass amazingly quickly.

Over the weekend, I was in the basement cleaning out files and came across a paper bag full of vegetable and flower seed packets that I had accumulated over the years.  I'm dumping the unplanted seeds into a collective paper bag, which I'll take to the compost heap when I've finished the task.  I'm recycling the paper seed packets.

I know, I know--some of the seeds may be viable, but in my experience, seed viability diminishes quickly for garden seeds, so I'm not going to bother to pot-up the seeds and then be disappointed when germination is spotty or nonexistent.  And, In fact, that's part of my point in posting this blog entry.

Some of the seed packets date back as far as 1997.  Back then, I planted lots and lots of annuals with the garden vegetables every year.  My garden was half vegetables and half annuals, and it was beatuiful, but labor intensive.

Now, I have a sad perennial garden that's overrun with weeds, into which I fit a few tomato plants each spring.  How did I ever find the time to create this extravagant annual flower garden 14 years ago--at a time when I was also still running at least three evenings a week?  I'm 14 years older, discouraged by the incessant press of weeds, groundhogs and deer, and I have a lot less physical energy (I naively never imagined this would happen to me).  It all contributes to diminished expectations in my life in general.

A Gardener's Gift

You would think, with the spectacular weather we had this weekend (cloudless skies and temperatures in the low 70s) that I'd have some wonderful images. But, no, just two mediocre ones.

First, the post title. The weather this weekend was the gardener's gift. I got my spring vegetables planted in my garden: spinach, lettuce, and two kinds of Swiss chard. (I started the "summer" vegetables last Sunday in a greenhouse.) Now, with rain today and cold temperatures forecast for the end of the week, the seeds are in place and on their own.

This Saturday, my wife and I walked six miles at Valley Forge National Historical Park. For those not familiar with Valley Forge, it obviously commemorates and hallows the ground where the Continental Army camped during the bitter winter of 1776, but it is also a recreation mecca for the Philadelphia area. And, understandably, it was packed with bicyclists (especially), joggers, and walkers this weekend. We chose a trail alongside the Schuylkill River, where I snapped the picture at the head of this post. The river had spilled out of its banks during the recent snowmelt and rain deluge; the floodplain was swept clear in many places, and buried in woody debris in others (as is visible in the foreground of the image above).

Along the walk, we encountered Virginia bluebells (Mertensia virginica) just emerging from the ground. In most places, the bluebells had to compete with the non-native lesser celandine (Ranunculus ficaria), as is apparent in the image below.
Sunday, I attended the memorial service for an acquaintance who had died of kidney cancer earlier this month. Afterward, with most of the day remaining, we took another long walk--this time at the natural area closest to home.