Friday, September 30, 2016

October 2016


Planters Punchlines
Men’s Garden Club of Wethersfield
October 2016
           

Next Meeting: Monday October 24  @ 7:00 pm in the Pitkin Community Center, 30 Greenfield Street, Wethersfield.  Carol Quish of the UConn Home & Garden Education Center will speak about “Insect Pests in the Garden.”  The talk is free and open to the public.

Mark your calendars – Holiday Party Monday December 5.
           
I am away on vacation for most of October so the Planters Punchlines newsletter is early this month.

Compostable Matter
By Jim Meehan
           
For most of the 39 years that Mars and I have gardened at our current location we have tried to attract butterflies and hummingbirds – with limited success.
             
It started in earnest with a butterfly house that our son Bram gave me.  Both he, who was a teenage non-gardener and had no reason to know better, and I thought that the homestead itself was the draw.  And that soon after it was put into place atop the pole with which it came, kaleidoscopes (aka swarms or rabbles) of large fragile-winged, colorful insects would literally flock into our yard to reside in our brand-spanking-new Lepidoptera dorm. 
             
We forgot the basic law of real estate, “Location! Location! Location!”
             
Not the street address – rather the physical location within which the landing pad was placed.  “Surroundings! Surroundings! Surroundings!”  We needed a butterfly garden to surround our butterfly house.
             
The wooden dwelling with vertical slots is intended as a resting place for insects, which happen to be in the area for another reason –an overnight pad within which to crash after an all-day nectar binge garden party. 
             
Not a problem.  There was no shortage of lists of what to grow in your butterfly garden.  We initially went, as I recall, with the usual suspects: butterfly bush and bee balm added to the daisies, cardinal plants, and false dragonheads that already occupied the area. We also acquired some kind of “prairie flower”.  I remember that the nurseryman imitated its movement in a breeze by flailing his arms back and forth and twisting his body like the inflatable “air dancers” that advertise the presence of car dealers and other roadside retail businesses.
             
We planted the garden in early spring.  By autumn the prairie flowers had been swallowed up by their fellow plants and never were seen again.  A few butterflies came by for a look and a quick sip – roughly the same number that came before we put in our alfresco nectar saloon.  None stayed overnight as far as we could tell.  But then again it would have been dark and the insects would have hidden themselves within their narrow bed apertures – so who knows?
             
To help with the attempt, my in-laws gave us a “Butterfly Growing Kit” with a cup of 5 caterpillars, caterpillar chow, and a cardboard container within which to grow them.  When the time came, on a warm summer morning, we released the quintet of Monarchs into our butterfly garden.  They surveyed the offerings and left.
             
Sometime during the first couple of years the butterfly bush was pushed out by its neighbors – and over time we have added and subtracted various other butterfly attractors – such as loosestrife, hollyhock, Queen Anne’s Lace, sunflower – with no appreciable increase or decline in the count of Lepidoptera.
             
I know I shouldn’t take it personally.  Most butterflies have only a few weeks of life as an adult, winged creature so they are really pretty focused on eating and mating during the short time that they have.  Even the well-traveled Monarch has a brief and very busy life.  Those born in the summer breeding season live only 2-6 weeks. But the ones that migrate to Mexico are born in late summer, stay alive all winter, and migrate north the following spring – so whatever extra time they have is spent planning their vacation (getting passports, shots, directions, etc.)  None of them have the time to be your friend.
             
But I have not given up just yet.  On the web I came across suggestions and recipes for “butterfly bait” to draw the little flitters into our yard.
             
“Many butterflies prefer rotting fruit, tree sap, dung, carrion, urine, and other non-nectar sources of nutrients. [And who wouldn’t?] You can allow fruit from your fruit trees to decay on the ground, leave your pet’s droppings where they lie, or place a bit of raw meat or fish in a discreet part of your garden.”
            
 Or perhaps just blend them all together and spray a thick coat of the resulting liquor all over the body of a purple-and-red thrashing air dancer man that is tethered to the spot where the butterfly house once stood.
             
And as a side benefit we might get a good price for our two decade-old cars.


Keeping Heirloom Apples Alive Is 'Like A Chain Letter' Over Many Centuries
By Melissa Block @ npr.org

It's apple season, and if you go to the supermarket you'll find the usual suspects: Red and Golden Delicious, Granny Smith, MacIntosh. But these big, shiny, perfect apples often look better than they taste. Thankfully, there's a whole world of heirloom apples out there — fruit that may look funky, but tastes fantastic, with flavors unlike any you've tried before.
             
Ezekiel Goodband, orchard manager of Scott Farm in Dummerston, Vt., has devoted his life to these heirloom apples. He's spent decades carefully grafting and tending historic varieties — some of which date back hundreds of years. Sprightly, with twinkly eyes and a long gray-brown beard tucked into a well-worn sweater, Goodband shows off his acres, which boast 100 different apple varieties.
             
Some apples are round and tiny; others are lobed or pear-shaped. They range from acid green to mousy freckled brown to rosy pink. And they have exotic-sounding names like Winter Banana, Red Astrakhan, Chenango Strawberry and Pitmaston Pineapple.
             
One tree bears a mutant-like fruit that only a mother could love: Goodband describes this Knobbed Russet as "a tree of shrunken heads." The fruit is gnarled, warty, brown and shriveled, but — Goodband promises — it tastes great.
             
Goodband compares these Knobbed Russets to shrunken heads. Others say potatoes or toads. They're all gnarled and warty and brown, but don't be intimidated: They taste great when ripe. They originated in Sussex, England, in 1819.
             
Goodband is helping to preserve historic varieties like the Knobbed Russet that have been handed down over the centuries. Like farmers for generations before him, he has painstakingly collected cuttings and grafted them to root stock. That's the only way to do it, to keep the exact DNA of these apples alive.
             
"It's sort of like a chain letter, and I like that connection," he says.
             
Like many of us, Goodband grew up on Red Delicious apples. His father grew them, and they'd eat them year-round. But he won't touch them now. Those leathery, indestructible behemoths were cultivated to be ever redder and bigger, but at the expense of flavor.
             
These days, lots of people are ecstatic about the Honeycrisp, a newish apple, created at the University of Minnesota in 1991. It explodes with juices and a crackling crunch.
             
Goodband grows Honeycrisp, but he isn't a huge fan of it himself. It's too one-note, he says. And get this: He claims that even his pigs don't like it. If he puts Honeycrisps in their trough, he says, they'll tip it over. "They just have gotten used to more complex flavors," he jokes. "They're interested at first, but then, you know, I can tell in their eyes that they're looking for something more."
             
The picking crew on Scott Farm is made up of six men, all from Jamaica, in their 50s and 60s. They'll pick 22 tractor-trailers of apples over the course of a season. Then, it's home to Jamaica and their own farms, where they raise sweet potatoes, sugar cane and bananas.
             
Their devotion to this place — and to Goodband — is clear: Some of the men have worked for him for more than 20 years. The workers say they're proud to know all of these uncommon apples, and they treat them almost with affection. When they prop their wooden ladders against the treetops they maneuver them gently, and they're careful with the fruit.
             
On this day — as they pick Hubbardston, Holstein and Red Cortland — they sing Bob Marley as they harvest fruit from the treetops.
             
With ripe fruit all around, you might think they'd be tempted to snack, but Michael Johnson says that's not the case. The apples at the top of the trees call to him, he says, and "it's fun to get them." And then: "Into the bin!"
             
Self-described apple geek Rowan Jacobsen traces his "apple awakening" to Goodband's fruit, which Jacobsen discovered years ago at his local food co-op. Jacobsen's new book, Apples of Uncommon Character, is an homage to these heirloom varieties.
            
 Jacobsen has brought a new apple — the Pixie Crunch, developed in a 1970s university apple breeding program — back with him from a trip to Washington state. It's small, round and bright red, the perfect size for a child's hand. Jacobsen thinks this small apple has a big future.
             
But these trends can be hard to predict. Jacobsen describes a conversation he had about this apple with some big industrial growers out in Washington: One grower was convinced the Pixie Crunch was the next big apple. The other grower was skeptical that they could find demand for such a small fruit.
             
"There's really this tension right now, even among big guys," Jacobsen says. "Some of them have this old-school mentality of what the market wants. There's kind of a disconnect — because the market that I know actually likes small apples, and likes different apples."

As for Goodband, he's not interested in the Pixie Crunch — too sweet, he says. And he's not interested in apples designed to travel well for long distances. His is small-batch agriculture, sold locally. His apples cost more than conventional fruit, but Goodband only grows fruit that delights him.
            
 "I've got to be dazzled," he says, and, he wants his customers to be dazzled, too.
             
He hopes to reintroduce people to fruit that customers might remember their grandparents growing. Or to introduce them for the first time to fruit that doesn't make it to stores because it doesn't ship well or because it is only at its peak for a week or two. This, he says, is the experience he's looking for:
             
"When I give people one of these apples, they'll come back next week and say, 'Oh, that was the best apple I've ever had in my life. I didn't know apples could taste like that!' "
             
At 61, Goodband says the heirloom trees he grows will last beyond his lifetime. Now, he says, it's his turn to teach someone else — someone younger — how to keep them going.

To Cut or Not to Cut
National Gardening Association @ garden.org

That is the question -- the one you ask yourself in the fall as you survey your flower garden, pruners in hand. Which perennials should you cut back and which should you leave standing? Although your initial impulse may be to cut all your herbaceous plants back to tidy things up when the weather turns cold, leaving the tops of some plants in place over the winter can add interest to an otherwise bleak landscape and provide food for seed-eating birds. It can also help some plants make it through the winter more reliably. But there are also good reasons for cutting back certain perennials as soon as their tops are killed by frost. Here's some advice on when to wield your clippers and when to wait.
             
Add Winter Interest: Some perennials that grace the garden with beautiful blossoms early in the season continue to enliven the garden with their interesting seedpods in fall and winter. Baptisia's elongated black seed pods stand out against the snow, as do those of Siberian irises, and both are useful in dried arrangements indoors. The dried flower heads of yarrow (Achillea) add a horizontal note, while plants such as 'Autumn Joy' sedum and Joe Pye weed (Eupatorium), with large, rounded flower clusters, remain as lacy globes over the winter.
             
Ornamental grasses are some of the most dramatic plants in the winter landscape. Tall plumes feather reed grass (Calamagrostis) and switch grass (Panicum) add vertical accents to the winter landscape. Just be sure to cut plants back in early spring before growth emerges to avoid damaging the new shoots.
             
Benefit Birds and Butterflies: Goldfinches and other feathered visitors will stop in winter to dine on the seedheads of plants such as black-eyed Susan (Rudbeckia), heliopsis, and purple coneflower (Echinacea). The seedheads of many annuals will also provide treats for passing birds if blossoms are allowed to go to seed and remain through the winter. Cosmos, coreopsis, bachelor's buttons, and zinnias are some of the flowers whose seeds will feed sparrows, finches and juncos. But do keep in mind that plants like rudbeckia and purple coneflower may self-sow enthusiastically and you'll need to be prepared for some ruthless weeding come spring if you let their flowers go to seed.
             
Perennials left standing can also provide spots for butterflies and other beneficial insects to overwinter, either as pupae, caterpillars, or eggs, and offer them cover from predators like birds and spiders.
             
Offer Cold Protection: Some perennials are more likely to survive winter's cold if they aren't cut back until spring. Frikart's aster (Aster frikartii), Montauk daisy (Nipponanthemum nipponicum), chrysanthemums, agastache, and red hot poker (Kniphofia) all benefit from the insulation that the old foliage provides to the crown of the plant.
            
 Leave Basal and Evergreen Foliage: And finally, there are those plants that produce a clump of new basal leaves late in the season, like Shasta daisies and globe thistle. You can cut down the spent taller growth or bare flower stalks, but leave the basal foliage undisturbed. Also, don't cut back low-growing evergreen or semi-evergreen perennials, like some hardy geraniums, heucheras, hellebores, dianthus, and moss phlox. These can be tidied up in the spring, if need be.
             
Mark Late Sprouters: A few perennials are notorious for their late emergence in spring. If you leave at least a portion of the tops of butterfly weed (Asclepias tuberosa), rose mallow (Hibiscus moscheutos), and balloon flower (Platycodon grandiflorus) standing, you won't lose track of their location and accidentally damage them by digging into them before they sprout in spring.
             
Start Cutting!: Daylilies look pretty raggedy by the end of the season. They don't add anything visually to the winter garden and getting rid of their browning foliage and bare flower stalks improves the appearance of the landscape. The foliage of other plants, such as brunnera and veronica, turns black and becomes mush after its been hit by frost and from an aesthetic standpoint is best removed. I've also found that it's much, much easier to cut down the tops of plants that don't have tough leaf stalks, like daylilies and Siberian irises, when they are still relatively crisp and upright in the fall. By spring their leaves have become a fallen, sodden clump that can be a real challenge to cut away.
             
The tops of some perennials, such as bearded iris, peonies, bee balm, and garden phlox, often serve as reservoirs for overwintering insects or disease spores and are best cut down and consigned to the trash or sent to a municipal hot composting operation. It's a good idea to cut back and destroy any disease-infected or insect-infested plant debris. When I'm not sure if the pest organism overwinters in or on plant material, I err on the side of caution and get rid of it.
             
What About the Rest?: For many other perennials, it's up to you whether to cut back now or in spring. You'll offer the most benefits to wildlife if you leave the most plant material standing until spring. But spring is also a very busy time for most gardeners and you may choose to take advantage of the slower pace and pleasant weather in autumn to get at least some of your garden clean-up chores out of the way.
           
Weed: My most unwanted plant
by Cortney Moore (fortcollinsnursey.com)

The word weed makes me cringe. It makes my skin crawl. I am not talking about the weed that has been on the minds of most people in Colorado this year. The weed I am talking about is a plant growing where I don’t want it. It is a plant growing vigorously or in some cases in an invasive manner.
           
 Last year I started a major project in my yard. Think Bobcat Skid-steer Tractor, 7 tons of flagstones and a whole lot of soil moving going on. So much soil was moved from one area to another that by the end of the season the weeds had gotten out of control. At this point, I thought I needed to do something about them. I yanked as many as I could. While I was playing tug of war with the nasty buggers, a million lovely little pepper speck seeds dropped to the ground. I waited too long. I felt defeated, but fall was too busy to do much about the new problem I had created.
             
Through the winter I stared out the kitchen window and contemplated bringing in truckloads of mulch or covering the ground with cardboard to suppress the seeds. I never actually got around to this and with March upon us, the amount of moisture in the ground and all those seeds out there are on my mind. Visions of weeds springing to life as temperatures warm haunt me. In order to get a jump on the weeds before they become the headlining plant in my yard this year, I concocted a plan to take care of these green devils. I am determined to make my yard an enjoyable place fit for entertaining this season. Read on to learn my plan of attack.
             
Depending on what the weather decides to do, I will apply a pre-emergent product sometime in March. Pre-emergents do not kill seeds; they destroy young weed seedlings so the product must be present prior to germination. Initially I thought about using corn gluten, but the research I read said corn gluten is most effective as a pre-emergent weed control in an established lawn and is less effective in open and disturbed soil like my yard, so it appears that for my application I will need a chemical type. Pre-emergents stop all seeds from germinating and I am planning to sow a cover crop so I will have to be aware of the amount of time the product is active in the soil before I put my cover crop seed down. I am still deciding which cover crop to use and need to do more research.
             
My next line of defense will be post-emergent. I will incorporate as many post-emergent methods as necessary to put the smack down on these monsters. I prefer mechanical methods, such as using my long handle weeder, hula hoe and spreading mulch or other weed barriers. I know I have some fairly aggressive weeds out there and some chemical warfare will be necessary, especially on the cotton wood suckers from the tree my neighbor cut down last year. Yes, they are weeds too. Remember: A plant growing where I don’t want it.
             
I love my long handle weeder. I love it so much that I have been known to give it to friends who come over and have never had one. Part of the joy of gardening is sharing. So I just give it to them and buy another. This type of weeder doesn’t always get the entire root, but it can pop baby dandelions out as they emerge.
             
The Hula hoe is another one of my favorite tools for mechanical control. I also consider it a bit of an upper body work out when I use it so I can skip the gym that day.
             
Mulch is a must have in my yard. It not only suppresses weeds, it improves soil, conserves water, and has many other benefits. (Join us for The Magic of Mulch class on Sunday, May 18th to learn more.) For large areas I load my truck at free pick up locations. This leaves me more money to buy plants. When I want something more decorative or a specialty mulch, I visit my local garden center.
             
While I prefer mechanical weed control, I do occasionally reach for the bottle. The products listed below are what work for me. Please read labels thoroughly and talk with your nursery professionals before using any of the products. That is the only motherly warning you will hear from me today.
             
Fertilome Weed Free Zone is my go to for getting an early start. It works in cooler temperatures so I like it as weeds start to green up in the spring and the mornings are still in the 40s and 50s.
            
 Fertilome Brush and Stump Killer is potent but it is necessary for suckers when your neighbor takes an ancient cottonwood out and don’t kill the entire root system, or you try to dig honey locusts, choke cherries or aspens and they just keep coming back. I always try my trusty shovel on suckers first and use Brush and Stump Killer as a last resort. A word of caution: Brush and Stump Killer is not Sucker Stopper. It will kill the entire root system and plant. Do not use on suckers that are attached to a desirable plant.
             
Now don’t get the impression that I am a manic welding a sprayer full of poison. I am a realistic gardener who attempts all other methods before going for the heavy hitters but sometimes it takes what it takes.
             
I advocate for controls that are citric acid or acetic acid based too. They don’t kill the root and often have to be applied more than once. If you can burn the top growth enough the root won’t get fed and presto! No more weed.
             
As long as I stick to the plan, I imagine I will emerge the victor in my war on weeds. I figure it will take a full season of diligent weeding to really make a difference. The thing that keeps me going is inviting all my friends to see the progress and enjoy the relaxing setting of the living flagstone patio, mini orchard and various other garden rooms. I am always looking for more garden friends so connect with me and maybe you’ll get an invite!
             
For more gardening and more connecting with Cortney Moore check out mooregarden.com.

How to Plant Chinese Dogwood From a Seed

Sometimes called kousa dogwood, the Chinese dogwood (Cornus kousa) is a deciduous shrub species prized for its showy flower bracts and purple autumn foliage. It is widely grown throughout U.S. Department of Agriculture plant hardiness zones 5 to 8, where it is used as an ornamental tree or shrub.

1.     Gather Chinese dogwood seeds in autumn after the fruit ripens to a bright, raspberry red color. Collect two or three fruit and place them in a plastic bag. Gently crush the fruit with a rolling pin to loosen the seeds.
2.     Place the crushed Chinese dogwood fruit in a bowl of water. Soak them overnight, stirring occasionally. Pick out the oblong, light-brown seeds and discard the remainder of the fruit.
3.     Fill a plastic sandwich bag with moist sphagnum moss. Bury the Chinese dogwood seeds in the sphagnum moss and seal the bag. Store the bag in the refrigerator for two to three months to cold-stratify the seeds. Remoisten the sphagnum moss, as needed.
4.     Sow the Chinese dogwood seeds in individual 6-inch greenhouse pots filled with a mix of equal parts sterile compost, loam and perlite. Sow them at a depth of 1/10-inch. Water them to a 2-inch depth after sowing.
5.     Place the potted Chinese dogwood seeds inside a lightly shaded, unventilated cold frame. Warm the pots with a germination mat set to between 70 and 75 F. Turn off the mat at night.
6.     Check the moisture level in the growing mixture twice daily during the germination process. Thoroughly moisten the top inch of the soil whenever the surface feels barely moist. Do not allow it to dry out completely on the surface.
7.     Watch for signs of germination in approximately three months. Turn off the germination mat after the Chinese dogwood seeds sprout. Open the cold frame to increase air circulation around the seedlings and to acclimate them to normal outdoor conditions.
8.     Move the Chinese dogwood seedlings to a sheltered area of the garden after the last spring frost. Provide 1-inch of water each week, if no rain falls for one week or longer. Protect the seedlings from direct midday sun until they produce several sets of mature leaves.
9.     Grow the Chinese dogwood seedlings under light shade during their first summer to prevent heat stress and dehydration. Water weekly to a 1-inch depth. Acclimate them to direct sun in early autumn to prepare them from transplant into the garden.
10.  Transplant the Chinese dogwoods into the garden in autumn after the first rainfall. Choose a sunny or lightly shaded planting site with moist, draining soil. Space multiple shrubs 15 to 30 feet apart.
11.  Things You Will Need: Plastic bag, Rolling pin, Bowl, Plastic sandwich bag  Sphagnum moss, 6-inch greenhouse pots, Sterile compost Loam, Perlite, Cold frame, Germination mat

Horti-Culture Corner

"Along the side roads the bright gold of thin-leafed wild sunflowers
gleams from its dust covering and attracts the eye as quickly as mention of easy money.   
Purple ironweed is diminishing in the pastures;
thistles are down to their last silken tassels;
goldenrod pours its heap of raw gold into the general fund."

-  Rachel Peden

Saturday, September 10, 2016

September 2016

Planters Punchlines

Men’s Garden Club of Wethersfield

September 2016

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Garden Club Kicks off 2016-17 Season

Monday Sept. 26 @ 7:00 p.m. Pitkin Community Center



Nigel Palmer from the Institute Of Sustainable Nutrition to speak to us on: Introduction to Sustainable Gardening and Amendment Practices. The talk is free and open to the public.   Spread the word.



2016-2017 Club Officers



President:                    Tony Sanders               
Vice President:            Howard Becker          

Secretary:                    James Sulzen                
Treasurer:                    Richard Prentice



Compostable Matter

By Jim Meehan



Unfortunately the best times for me to work in our sunflower gardens are the same periods in the day when the neighborhood bees decide to sop up their daily supply of nectar and pollen.

             
Luckily for me thus far, none of these members of the Apidae family have chosen to defend their dining areas by planting their powerful stings in any of the exposed parts of my body.

             
Mars has however not been that blessed.  We have three varieties of sunflowers, among them Maximilian (Helianthus maximiliani Schrad, aka michaelmas-daisy), which she and I surreptitiously spirited across country on Southwest Airlines from their original home in northern New Mexico.  According to wildflower.org “It was named for the naturalist Prince Maximilian of Wied-Neuwied, Germany, who led an expedition into the American West in the 1830s.”  We do not actually know what the other two are.  If left to their own devices all three will grow to an elevation of about ten feet.  So when they get to about two-thirds of that height in early June we lop of the top three-quarters so that by season’s end the Maxes have maxed out at about my size – a few inches over six feet.

             
By then of course the yellow flowers are blooming and the bees are buzzing.  The nature of our work necessitates us getting into the midst of the plants, and the bees.  So, although Mars had on her hands protected by her pink leather garden gloves, she did not have any covering around her neck – on the back of which she “just felt a bite.”  Mars does not actually recall that part of the story but, either way, I remember seeing the aposematically coloured, orange and black pollen collector writhing on her nape and me saying,  “You’ve been stung.”

             
We both have been similarly pricked at prior times in our lives with no serious side effects (i.e. no anaphylaxis or death).  But still somehow even a non-lethal stinger lodged in the top of the spinal column didn’t seem like something to be ignored. Had we known then what we know now we would have bought a gross of Epipens, maybe used one or two, and saved the rest as a retirement investment – another case of woulda, coulda, shoulda.  Instead we put on some ice to reduce the potential swelling and went into a state of what the medical profession likes to call ‘watchful waiting” – with no negative results.  And Mars returned to her work with no further incidents.

             
My own gardening experiences with bee stings are twofold – neither involving sunflowers.

             
On one occasion I was home alone and decided to undertake my semi-annual task of pulling back the ivy from the foundation and siding of the house – something that I used to do without gloves in order to be able to better distinguish the roots of the groundcover from other objects such as stray cable connections, etc.  I stuck my right hand into a mass of ivy, felt the sharp piercing pain, saw the tiny black object in my finger and realized what had happened.  This was probably my first such occurrence since boyhood and being by myself I rushed into the house trying to remember if it was Adolph’s Meat Tenderizer, or Gravy Master, or what, that was the natural home remedy for bee stings.  We had neither.  I decided against driving to the nearest Chinese cookery and shouting “Yes MSG!” in favor of the same frozen water and calm patience that years later worked so well for Mars’ wound.  And it did then also.

             
My other bee adventure actually was a wasp attack, which I touched off by attempting to retrieve, for the first time that season, some of fermenting compost from by uncovered compost bin.  Before I could say “oh s***, I’m being attacked”, the ground wasps, which had happily adopted my rotting pile of vegetable scraps, grass and leaves as their subterranean condo were after me like the combat airships in Star Wars.   I like to think my lightning fast reflexes and Usain Bolt like speed outran them but I suspect in reality I simply had gotten myself out of their relatively small protective zone, at which point they lost all interest in the chase.

            
 Following the advice of a compost expert at a lecture I attended shorty thereafter I sealed the entire bin in plastic and let the vicious little varmints cook to death over the long, hot summer.  And next year my compost supply was once again good-to-go – and perhaps ever better thanks to its hothouse conditions.

             
Outside our family room window we have a small bed of phlox, each of which attract the largest, slowest, and most diligent bees either of us has ever seen.  These “hinden-bees” arrive early and stay late every day – beginning as large, becoming larger, and going home morbidly obese at eventide.

             
Neither Mars nor I have any interest in any kind of gardening involving the phlox.

  

It's a Good Year for Monarchs, 
But More Butterflies Are On the Brink (excerpt)

By Jason Bittel – nationalgeographic.com (March 14, 2016)

             
Fortunately, the monarch butterfly is plentiful from North America to Africa, Europe, and Australia. Only its unique migration is endangered.

             
But many other species aren’t so lucky. So today, in honor of National Learn About Butterflies Day, let’s look at four other species that have quietly been marching toward extinction.

             
Schaus’ Swallowtail

             


Three years ago, when researchers went looking for Schaus’s swallowtail butterflies (Heraclides aristodemus ponceanus) in the Florida Keys, they turned up fewer than half a dozen individuals.

             
“Everyone thought that would be the end of it,” says Andy Warren, a moth and butterfly scientist and collections manager at the McGuire Center for Lepidoptera & Biodiversity at the Florida Museum of Natural History.

             
With wingspans up to 5 inches (about 13 centimeters), Warren calls swallowtails “big, showy things” that anyone can be trained to identify. However, these insects live in the tiniest of habitats—essentially just a few tropical hardwood sites in South Florida and the Keys.

             
But then, just as scientists were sounding the alarm that the Schaus’ swallowtail butterfly was about to go extinct, they emerged the next year in relative abundance.

             
Where did they come from? Warren says the species appears to be capable of spending multiple years as pupae—the stage of life between caterpillar and butterfly—likely as a way to wait for optimal conditions. This means that it’s extremely difficult to say exactly how many Schaus’ swallowtails are left at any given time. (See "How Your Backyard Can Save Butterflies.")

             
Even still, the Keys are a notoriously extreme environment, prone to rapid changes in vegetation, drought, fire, and hurricanes. The insects are currently considered endangered by both the state of Florida and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.

             
Wolkberg Zulu Butterfly

             
 

At about the size of a U.S. quarter (26 millimeters), the Wolkberg Zulu butterfly (Alaena margaritacea) of South Africa can be difficult to spot. Making matters worse, the insects only take flight for three weeks out of the year, a span that just so happens to fall right in the middle of the rainy season.

             
Oh, and one other thing—since 1929, no one had ever seen a Wolkberg Zulu butterfly anywhere else in the world except for one small town near Kruger National Park.

             
In 2013, when a botanist came across a specimen that appeared to be a Wolkberg Zulu in an area outside its known range, the Lepidopterists’ Society of Africa dispatched an expedition to see if they could verify the sighting. On the first day, the experts found just one butterfly—and it was dead, frozen on a leaf.

             
However, the next day the scientists discovered several more butterflies floating to and fro and declared that, for the first time ever, the Wolkberg Zulu butterfly had a new home.

             
The International Union for the Conservation of Nature classifies the insects as vulnerable to extinction.

             
Island Marble Butterfly

             


The island marble butterfly (Euchloe ausonides insulanus) was thought to have gone extinct around 1908. But almost a hundred years later, the fuzzy green-and-white butterflies popped back up on San Juan Islands just south of Vancouver, Canada. The discovery marked the first time the species had ever been sighted on U.S. soil. (See "Why Do Butterflies Have Such Vibrant Colors and Patterns?")

             
No one knows quite where the marbles have been all this time, or how they have escaped notice, but scientists are working to make sure they don’t disappear again.

             
For starters, it seems the butterflies have taken a liking to nonnative mustard plants on the islands. As the National Park Service looks to restore prairie habitats—which would typically involve removing nonnative species—they'll need to determine whether the butterflies can also survive on native mustard plants.

             
Saint Francis Satyr

             


Some butterflies are threatened by pesticide use. Others are declining due to lack of host plants or too many parasites. But the Saint Francis satyr (Neonympha mitchellii francisci) suffers from too few beavers, which create ponds that in turn create meadow habitat for Saint Francis satyr larvae.

             
Unfortunately for the Saint Francis satyr, beavers have mostly disappeared from its native range in North Carolina. The butterfly now only exists within the confines of a military base called Fort Bragg, where military exercises like bombing create wildfires that make way for the meadows the butterflies require. (See "Butterflies Can Evolve New Colors Amazingly Fast.")

             
There are currently only thought to be something like a thousand Saint Francis satyrs left on earth, inhabiting a range of just 20 acres (about 8 hectares)—smaller than the average U.S. shopping mall.



Fall Planting PLANTS for Next Season’s Butterflies


            
4 Big Benefits to Fall Planting Butterfly Plants

             
(1) Less Mud than in the melting snow and rains of Spring. If you live in a region that gets snow, spring is potentially the messiest time of year in the butterfly garden.

           
(2) Easy Digging. Depending on spring temperatures, planting can get delayed by a frozen ground. That means you’ll have to wait to belt out Disney’s classic ♪Let it Grow!♪

             
(3) Reap the benefits with flowering plants the very next next season. Most perennials you plant in spring won’t yield nectar-filled blooms until next season. By planting just a few months earlier, you’ll see some plants in full glory a year sooner!

             
(4)Transplanting will also reap rewards next season. If your plants weren’t happy in their spot this season, what have you got to lose by attempting to move them? That’s right…unhappy plants!

             
What fall planting ideas could have you reaping butterfly rewards as soon as next season?

            
 Milkweed is the lifeblood of Monarch Butterflies and not having enough will keep garden visits at a minimum and cut your raising adventures short.

If you're concerned about running out of milkweed for munching monarch caterpillars, try planting plants in fall to increase your milkweed supply next season.

             
1. Milkweed Plants: Try fall planting any variety that can survive winter temps in your region. You can check out some of your milkweed options here

             
Autumn is also prime time for transplanting unhappy native milkweed varieties. The cool temperatures of fall put less stain on transplants. As long as you dig up most of the root system and keep them sufficiently watered, milkweed transplants can be successful. Swamp milkweed (Asclepias incarnata) is easier to transplant without a rhizomatous root system.

             
If transplants aren’t an option, find plants at local nurseries.

             
While milkweed continues the monarch circle of life, nectar flowers give the adults the energy to continue that strenuous cycle.  Fall Planting Liatris ligulistylis plants will bring you a bounty of butterflies the very next monarch season.

             
2. Stiff Goldenrod (Solidago rigida): Yellow clusters of flowers are a late season treat for many pollinators and a favorite of migrating monarchs.           

            
3. Meadow Blazingstar (Liatris ligulistylis): Last fall I added 4 plants, and this season we had four flowering stalks from those plants. If we would have planted this spring, not one purple flower would have bloomed. Fall is also a good time for dividing, which in turn will multiply your plants! Fall division gives the liatris roots time to get acclimated before ground freeze.

             
4. Joe Pye Weed (Eutrochium spp.): One of the best perennials for late-season monarchs. We already have the ‘gateway’ variety (Eutrochium maculatum), and this fall we are adding ‘sweet Joe Pye’ (Eutrochium purpureum)  to the mix. Try a eutrochium species native to your region.

             
Planting bulbs can also yield big benefits the next season when compared to seeds…

             
5. Allium Bulbs or Division

             
a. Garlic Chives (Allium tuberosum) have showy white flowers that are a great nectar source for late season bees and migrating monarchs.  I was so excited to see the only viceroy of the season recently with wings spread wide in a complementary vision of beauty. When I returned the viceroy had been secretly replaced by a monarch…still a lovely vision!

             
b. Chives (Allium schoenoprasum): Chives provide nectar to spring monarchs returning from Mexico and have beautiful purple blooms. In the northern plains, these are usually finished blooming by the time we see monarchs but they are a great nectar source for early arriving pollinators.

             
c. Ornamental Onions (Allium angulosum ‘summer beauty’)



Horti-Culture Corner

It's September (excerpt) - Poem by Edgar Albert Guest


It's September, and the orchards are afire with red and gold,

And the nights with dew are heavy, and the morning's sharp with cold;

Now the garden's at its gayest with the salvia blazing red

And the good old-fashioned asters laughing at us from their bed;

Once again in shoes and stockings are the children's little feet,

And the dog now does his snoozing on the bright side of the street.



A Few Essential Tools for Your Sustainable Garden

Excerpted from Sustainable Gardening For Dummies (http://www.dummies.com)

             
To create your sustainable garden, some things are just too good to pass up.

             
A compost heap or bin: Mature compost ends up as a delightful humus to use as a soil conditioner in your sustainable garden, or, for the bokashi method, a delicious pickle your plants love.

             
An insectary: A garden plot, or even a series of pots on a balcony, with at least seven different plant species of varying heights attracts various beneficial bugs to your sustainable garden. Good candidates to plant include amaranthus, coriander, cosmos, dill, lemon balm, parsley, tansy and yarrow.

             
Mulch: To help keep in precious moisture, cover the soil around your plants with the finished humus from your compost or an organic mulch, such as matured manure, pea straw, pine bark, seaweed or sugar cane. Inorganic mulch, such as pebbles or granitic sand, should be use sparingly in a sustainable garden.

             
Worms: You can buy or build a worm farm or simply attract earthworms to your soil. Either way, worms produce a fantastic by-product, commonly known as worm castings, or vermicasts, that attracts microorganisms, such as good bacteria and fungi, to your soil so your plants thrive. If you have a worm farm, the worm wee, actually the liquid that accumulates at the bottom, is an added bonus for your garden.



Please don’t EVER plant running bamboo in your yard…

Pieceofpita.com

            
 I fell in love with the beautiful bamboo growing in the side yard at the Old Saybrook beach house. The tall green stalks had been planted by the previous homeowner, but I was so thrilled we would be able to enjoy them for years to come.  A perfect tranquil addition to any landscaping, or so I thought. If only I knew then what

I know now!

             
I remember showing off the bamboo to first time visitors. It provided such a unique backdrop to the stone patio and tiki bar in our little slice of beach paradise. I heard many friends say they had no idea bamboo could grow in our climate. Hell, I had no idea either but here was living proof. They wanted to plant some in their yards. My landscaper even took a few pieces to tried to start his own crop. Thankfully, for his sake, it didn’t work.

             
For two summers, I watched the bamboo grow from a small five-foot wide patch in front of the white fencing to a deep, dark and thick 15-foot patch. I was so excited the bamboo was filling in so nicely. Even the neighbors over the fence loved how it looked from their side. When they sway in the breeze, the leaves have such a peaceful and tranquil sound. And the stalks stay hearty and green all year long. Seeing sprigs of green amidst the snow was always a nice treat.

             
This spring, I noticed many new asparagus-like stalks appearing all over the yard. They were no longer contained just along the white fence. They began to pierce their way through plants and planters in other gardens in the yard. They appeared around and under the playscape. They began to wind themselves through the exposed roots of the 100-year old tree in the side yard.

             
And then I got an alarming letter from the neighbors. They didn’t want to upset me, but they, too, had noticed a surprising amount of new sprouts on their side of the fence. They did some bamboo research only to discover how terribly invasive and damaging it can be to structures, flooring, porches, septic systems and gas lines, especially if it is the yellow (running) bamboo variety like ours.

             
The bamboo we have in our yards is running wildly underground. Literally!! Running bamboo starts with one root and spirals out through the ground creating a network of vines in the Earth. It pierces through everything in its way because it has amazing strength. The sprouts of the bamboo emerge from the roots. You can literally watch the stalks grow before your eyes at a pace of three inches a day — 30 inches in 10 days during its growing season, which is RIGHT NOW!!!

             
Not only do we need to have the bamboo completely removed from both of our properties, which is a massive undertaking, but I am also committed to help educate homeowners in Connecticut about its dangers.

            
 I have joined the bamboo crusade along with Caryn Rickel, who heads up the Institute for Invasive Bamboo and has had her Seymour property invaded by her neighbors’ bamboo plants. A new law restricting the planting of bamboo within 40 feet of property lines has recently been enacted and signed by Governor Malloy (click to watch the video from Channel 3). But so much more needs to be done to educate homeowners on the harmful effects of this devastating root system. It is extremely difficult to contain. And it is even harder to remove.

             
The entire side and back yard of our home in Old Saybrook will have to be excavated. The bamboo will have to be “chased” out. That’s what Dennis, the bamboo excavator, calls it. All the vinyl fencing will have to be taken down to bring in the proper equipment, including a backhoe, and then replaced. We may lose the precious 100-year old tree that provides irreplaceable shade cover in the summer. But I am working with a few experts, including a tree whisperer, to save the tree.

             
Bottom line my friends…do not EVER plant YELLOW bamboo in your yard!!! It will be more pain than you could ever imagine.



How The Taste Of Tomatoes Went Bad (And Kept On Going)

Dan Charles @ npr.org

             
The tomato is the vegetable (or fruit, if you must) that we love to hate. We know how good it can be and how bad it usually is. And everybody just wants to know: How did it get that way?

             
Today, scientists revealed a small but intriguing chapter in that story: a genetic mutation that seemed like a real improvement in the tomato's quality, but which actually undermined its taste.

             
Before we get to the mutation, though, let's start with the old tomatoes — the varieties that people grew a century or more ago.

             
Thanks to enthusiastic seed savers and heirloom tomato enthusiasts, you can still find many of them. Eric Rice, owner of Country Pleasures Farm near Middletown, Md., first encountered heirloom tomatoes when he was a graduate student in North Carolina.

             
"I decided I really liked them," he says. He liked the vivid taste and the unusual colors, from orange to purple. These tomatoes also have great names: Cherokee Purple, Dr. Wyche's, Mortgage Lifter.

             
Rice now grows these tomatoes to sell at a farmers market in Washington, D.C. But he admits that all that tomato personality can make heirlooms harder to grow and sell. "Heirloom tomatoes don't ship very well because they're softer. And frankly, they're all different shapes and sizes." This makes them more difficult to pack.

             
There's something else you'll notice as these tomatoes start to get ripe — something central to this story. The part of the tomato near the stem — what's called the shoulder of the fruit — stays green longer.

             
"I think it is an issue for the consumer," says Rice, "because people do buy with their eyes. And green shoulders also mean it's not entirely ripe or not as soft and tasty there."

             
Those green shoulders turn out to be more significant than you might think. In this week's issue of the journal Science, scientists report that when they disappeared from modern tomatoes, some of the tomato's taste went with them.

            
 Here's how. Sometime before 1930, somewhere in America, a tomato grower noticed a plant that was producing distinctive fruit. These fruit turned red from stem to tip in a uniform way. They didn't have any of those bothersome green shoulders.

             
It was a new mutation, and plant breeders saw it as the next big thing.

             
They called it the "uniform ripening" trait. In 1930, the agricultural experiment station in Fargo, N.D., released a new tomato variety containing this mutation. The variety was called All Red.

             
Ann Powell, a researcher at the University of California, Davis, says it spread through the entire tomato industry. "It's a little hard to find a variety in modern production that doesn't have it," she says.

             
Powell is one of the scientists who now has discovered the genetic change responsible for "uniform ripening."

             
She was studying some genetically engineered tomato plants for another reason when she noticed that one of the added genes resulted in green tomatoes that were really dark green. It struck her as odd. "The leaves were not dark green. It was only the fruit that were dark green," she recalls.

             
Since this foreign gene had interesting effects on the ripening of fruit, Powell and her colleagues started looking for a similar gene that occurs naturally in tomatoes. They found it — and by coincidence, so did another research team on the other side of the country, at Cornell University.

             
The researchers discovered that this natural tomato gene, when it works properly, produces those green shoulders on tomatoes. The darker green color comes from the chlorophyll in plant structures called chloroplasts, which is what converts sunlight into sugars for the plant. In fact, those dark green shoulders were making those old tomatoes sweeter and creating more flavor.

             
The uniform-ripening mutation disabled this gene.

             
"We find out that, oh my goodness, this is one of the factors that led to the deterioration of flavor in the commercial tomato," says Harry Klee, a professor of horticulture at the University of Florida.

             
Klee has been exploring the chemistry and genetics of tomato taste. He says tomato breeders made a lot of compromises like this over the years as they created tomato plants that produce more fruit and are also rugged enough to hold up under rough handling.

            
 Now, Klee says, with some of this new science, we have a chance to undo some of those decisions. "What I tell people is, we can have 100 percent of the flavor [of heirloom varieties] with 80 percent of the agricultural performance of the modern varieties, with very little work."

             
Breeders can start with some of the best heirlooms, then bring in some of the disease-resistance genes that modern varieties have. They should also be able to increase yields somewhat, he says.

             
But consumers may have to change their expectations, Klee says. "They're going to have to go in and say, 'That one's got that little discoloration at the top; that means it must be good!"

             
And, the only way they're likely to show up in your local grocery store is if consumers can recognize them and are willing to pay a bit more for them.

            
Still, for the best flavor, you might want to grow your own.