The Long Slow Spiral into Autumn

Rozanne geranium continues to bloom into October.

Autumn seems to hesitate on the skirts of summer. The days are getting ever so gradually shorter and I can feel the long slow tumbling spiral into winter. Mornings are softer and heavy with dew. This evening I was thrilled to see a flock of common nighthawks spinning together overhead, feasting on insects. They'll be starting their fall migration to South America soon. Autumn to me always feels circular as things slow down, leaves fall, and the soil begins to slumber. Perhaps it was too much W. B. Yeats at an early age, but I have always been attracted to spiral, labyrinths and the sinuous shapes of nature. The winding tendrils of clematis and morning glory, the Fibonacci sequence of sunflowers and echinacea pull me in.

This year the acorns on my Regal Prince oak are twice the size, which someone just told me meant we're in for a hard winter. Good, I think. After the 100 plus degrees of summer, I'm ready for some negative temps and blankets of snow. In the meantime, I'll be studying the seedpods and marveling at how the dance of nature survives even the extremes.

How to Kill a Tree 101: Construction Damage

Excuse me as I drag out my soapbox...

If there is one thing that really fries my bananas, it's construction damage and death to trees. I can live with people planting them in the wrong place, pruning them into meatballs, and spraying them with chemicals so they don't fruit. However, killing a tree with blatant ignorance just puts my knickers in a twist. Not only are you killing a mature, beautiful tree that offers many benefits, you incur thousands of dollars in expense to have it removed.

Example #1:

The two shingle oaks on the right will not be long for this world. Sure, it'll be a handful of years before they kick the bucket, but they will eventually succumb. Why? Oaks do NOT like their roots messed with, especially mature trees. This is a beautiful home. Yet, the construction crews have pounded the soil into concrete with heavy machinery, stacking of bricks and placing of dumpsters. It's hard to see, but the trees are already showing signs of stress and the drought isn't helping. In three or four years, these poor homeowners will have quite the bill from the tree removal company. In the meantime, I have to drive by this everyday and not start frothing at the mouth.

Example #2:

This just breaks my heart. This stately 100 plus year-old American elm managed to survive Dutch elm disease, storms and old age until these people added on to the house. This is around the corner from my parents' house. It has taken three years for this tree to die. I watched the construction from day one. No tree protection, no fencing, no mulch, nothing. Usually an elm is a pretty tough customer, but there's only so much abuse it can handle. It lost about a quarter to one-third of its root system, and again, the drought this year didn't help. Now, deader than a doornail. I don't even want to think about how much removal is going to run them since it is not easily accessible.

The lesson is this: if you value your trees and are building a house, putting on an addition or creating a patio or deck, please, please please put some thought into your mature trees. Tree roots extend one to two times outside the length of the dripline. The fine feeder roots necessary for food and water are in the top 12 to 18 inches of the soil. Fence off the root zones at least to the dripline. Mulch heavily those root protection zones and areas of vehicle traffic. Water during dry periods. Prune the crown to compensate for stress. Don't fertilize so it doesn't incur further stress. Be vilgilant with your contractors and crews. Work fines into the contract. Consider hiring a consulting arborist.

It's worth it to save a tree if only in the reduced air conditioning costs!

Beautiful Caterpillar, Boring Moth

I'm sorry I haven't written. June this year was a month filled with too much, a lot of it moving hoses to keep the trees alive in this drought. So, for a bright sunny day, I bring you a bright sunny caterpillar - dagger moth.

I wouldn't advise petting him as the hairs can irritate.

This big guy was found munching on a maple tree. He's around two inches long, so will probably chrysalis soon. I think this is a gorgeous, dramatic caterpillar with his yellow fur and elegant black tufts. Not all of you will agree, but I am a bug nut and proud of it. Although it has felt like summer since March, usually in late June and July we start seeing some really cool insects in the garden. I'm combing my milkweed for monarch eggs, but so far, no dice. I did catch a couple of black swallowtails doing the fandango in the fennel, so maybe we'll have caterpillars there. Everyone agrees that swallowtails and monarchs are beautiful butterflies. However, the dagger moth seems to have a snazzy adolescence then morphs into an obscure adult. Hmmm...how many of us had wild hair as a teenager and now are sedate brunettes?

Walking in the Woods with Jack

I love all spring wildflowers, but for some I have particular affection. When I was a child, the little old lady neighbor across the street had a double lot with a woodland wildflower garden. When she died, her children invited the neighbors to come over and help themselves to the plants because the property was being divided and sold. Mom brought home all sorts of wildflowers and planted them under the spruces at the back property line. It was very shady, but of course, dry, so the plants grew for a few years before fading away.

One of my favorites is Jack-in-the-pulpit (Arisaema triphyllum) for its bizarre flowers. As a kid, it was magical to lift the stripy spathe or hood and peek in to find Jack, the spadix. These are fairly large for the wildflower world and can be almost two feet tall. As we walk through the woods, I always look for their distinct trifoliate leaves and check to see how Jack is doing. Later in summer, the plant will go dormant except for a cluster of bright red berries that are eaten by wildlife. Turns out Jack-in-the-pulpit roots or corms are poisoinous when eaten fresh, although lose their toxicity when cooked.

I hope you have a favorite wildflower. I'll be forever taking a peek at Jack in his pulpit. Just checking, really, in case he ducks out for a snack.

Effortless Grace of Bridalwreath Spirea

Bridalwreath spirea - tiny bouquets!

Cascading white fountains are popping up all over town. It's bridalwreath spirea (Spiraea x vanhouttei)  time. I live in an old suburb with a big mix of houses from Victorians to McMansions. Many of the older homes have at least one of these Victorian grand dames of blooming shrubs, including mine. This is the only spirea that I absolutely adore. Part of it is sentiment - I used to pluck the flowers to use as bouquets for my Barbie's weddings. They were the perfect size and shape. Mostly, I am fond of this shrub for its exuberance. I think bridalwreath spirea looks best when left to its own fountainy devices in all it's flowing glory. This is not a small shrub.  It is virtually impossible to kill. It even tolerates shade, though it prefers full sun. I cut mine almost to the ground about every five years or it would eat the porch.

This spirea is also an important indicator plant. What does it indicate? Well, when it blooms, it means that it is warm enough to treat certain pests and diseases. For example, when bridalwreath spirea begins to bloom, it's the time to treat euonymus scale because the tiny litte caterpillars (or crawlers) are out and about. You can kill the crawlers with insecticide, but not the adults. Indicator plants give us a good guideline as when pests and diseases are vulnerable so we don't spend time, money and chemicals wastefully.

So, not only is it pretty, but I can use it to predict when to treat a number of things. In the Chicago area, my pest and disease teacher, Don Orton is a local legend. He compiled Coincide: The Orton System of Pest and Disease Management which is an invaluable book about when and how to treat a huge range of common problems.  In class, inevitabley, the answer to a question about indicator plants was a chorus of Spiraea x vanhouttei! If you've got enough space and enough sun, consider adding this old fashioned, tough as nails, beauty.

My beauty

The Further Adventures of Dave the Elm

Dave the elm has lost his virginity. This spring, for the first time he has seeds! Why is this exciting? Have I gone completely off my nut? Why do I want baby elms? Because Dave (Ulmus davidiana) isn't sold in nurseries, or at least not around here. It's his twelfth spring with us and he's doing very well after a bumpy planting and a hardcore pruning. Dave is from China and is highly disease resistant. He's toughed it out with two neighboring elms going down to Dutch elm disease, and by neighboring I mean about 100 feet. We watch Dave like a hawk, but so far nary a sign of DED. He's developing into a lovely vase shape. Really, so far, everything to love about an elm. I'm not sure it will get much above 40 feet, but heck, that's still a good sized shade tree. So...who wants some seeds?

Spring Blossoms into Summer?

How pretty is this iris?

I'm starting with a picture of one of my favorite spring bulbs - Katherine Hodgkin iris. They are small and sweet and this year popped out of the ground in about twenty-four hours. They bloomed for a couple of days and then our 70s and low 80s caused them to wither and fade. They don't usually last more than a week, but our ridiculous temperatures have accelerated everything. I'm wearing shorts! In March!

The bees are moving too fast for a picture.

The boxwood at the back door is blooming, much to the delight of bees and bugs. Some folks hate the scent, but I rather like it. This one came with the house and is some kind of Korean. It's about six feet high.

Fragrant forsythia

It is a glorious year for forsythia. The mild winter meant that flower buds were not killed off and warm sunny days sent them bursting into bloom. I'm just not used to seeing magnolia and forsythia bloom at the same time. My redbud is seriously considering flowering, too.

Early kaufmanniana tulips

I adore spring flowers, but I plant in a succesion on purpose. These are early waterlily type tulips.  However, early is usually APRIL! I like to cut daffodils and tulips for bouquets for a good six to eight weeks. Usually, I can do this. This year? All bets are off.