Fluttering

Fluttering

August 2016

One day in early August, we had a classic summer storm. When I walked onto our screen porch that evening, it was all a-flutter – I mean excessively a-flutter.

Moths in just one corner of the porch

It is not at all unusual to find various fluttering and buzzing things inside the porch. In fact, it's a good place to get a close look at various kinds of insets and learn to identify them.

Sometimes I find them lifeless on a sill or the floor after they have buzzed around too long from frustration, not knowing the way out. The large Carpenter Bees (which look a lot like Bumblebees, but less fuzzy) are the worst ones, their carcasses littering the floor at times.

Sometimes I manage to catch and release insects, particularly butterflies. However, the butterflies are best at finding their way back out.

This poor thing had wings that had seen better days, but I think it's a male Tawny Emperor (Asterocampa clyton clyton.)

I'm pretty sure this is a Silver-Spotted Skipper (Epargyreus clarus clarus.)

Here's what I found out on this one: it's a day-flying moth called Grape Leaffolder Moth: Superfamily Pyraloidea; Family Crambidae (Crambid Snout Moths); Subfamily Spilomelinae; Genus Desmia. The scientific name is Desmia funeralis (I'd like to know where the "funeral" part comes from - maybe the way it looks) and it has been know also as D. maculalis. The larvae feed on Evening-Primrose, Redbud and both domestic and wild grapes. We have plenty of all but the domestic grapes. This one is a male, evidenced by the distinct, appendaged antennae.

A Black Swallowtail (Papilio polyxenes asterius - male?) on Garlic Chive blossoms just outside the porch.

Once in a great while a bird finds its way in, frantically dashing throughout the porch, calling in alarm, grasping the screens with its tiny feet. I must chase it out quickly (usually by gently guiding it with a broom) because the cats get very interested.

Once a year, hordes of Asian Ladybugs congregate in the upper corners of the porch walls, ceiling and screens, and eventually disappear.

Other than the ladybugs, the great August congregation of smallish, dark moths was the largest mass insect gathering we'd had on the porch. Where did they come from all of a sudden? Why so many? What were they?

I thought perhaps they were taking shelter from the storm and that most would soon leave. But, they stuck around for the rest of their little moth lives.

I looked closely at them and took photos. Here are the main characteristics I observed:

–        at rest, they held their wings out in a flat, triangular shape

–        they all had distinctive  long, dark “snouts”

–        they were various shades of dull brown and gray, with some pattern on the wings (particularly the forewings) – I surmised that they would blend in well with tree bark

–        some were a little larger than others

–        there were some furry looking patches on their bodies.

I tried consulting my Peterson Guide to Eastern Moths, but it was hard to track it down there. I found groups that it must belong to, but some of the photo pages were in black and white, and there were so many moths to a page, with so many looking alike.

I wasn't sure how to approach this on the internet, but I knew who to contact – someone who is really into bugs and who knows just the right resources to go to – my county Extension Educator.

I sent her an email with three photos. It didn't take her long to respond with a link and the message, “this is the closest I could get.” Well, it looked to me that the Green Cloverworm moth (Hypena scabra) was as close as anyone could get. The link described my moths perfectly and the photo was identical. Later, she sent me another email saying that she had it verified.

She must have been very intrigued by this critter because it became the next topic of her local newspaper column.

I was then able to pin-point the moth in my Peterson moths guide. But, my guide was published in 1984! Things change in classification, so I also searched the internet. My book had it under the old name, Plathypena scabra, but it had recently been moved to the Genus Hypena.

The world of classification, especially with more recent research using DNA, is a very picky world. So, other things had changed besides the genus. It is still, of course, under the Order Lepidoptera, which are the scaly-winged insects – butterflies and moths. But that was the only thing that hadn't changed. I had to do some teasing-out of terms to get to the current status. My 1984 book has the Green Cloverworm in Family Noctuidae, under Superfamily Noctuidae. Well, it has gotten more complicated. I now find that it's in the Subfamily Hypeninae (snout moths) of the Family Erebidae, which is under the Superfamily Noctuoidea. Confused yet??

Order: Lepidoptera (butterflies and moths)

     Superfamily: Noctuoidea

          Family: Erebidae

               Subfamily: Hypeninae (snout moths)

                    Genus: Hypena

                         Species: H. scabra (Green Cloverworm)

Family Erebidae, formerly a subfamily of Noctuidae, is among the largest families in Superfamily Noctuoidea. It includes the underwings, tigers, tussocks, owlets, and our snout moths, among many others. Family Erebidae has 18 subfamilies – well, the last I checked – including our moth's Subfamily Hypeninae. Whew!

The confusion is not only in trying to reconcile between an old guide book and the internet. There are sites on the internet that still have the Green Cloverworm under Noctuidae! To change that would mean changing information on hundreds of pages on the web! So, you are lucky if you stumble across a correction or refutation, as I did. One said, “A very large portion of the Noctuidae was moved to Erebidae back in 2006 ...”, but, it goes on with much more detail. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talk:Noctuidae

Well, let's leave all that behind for now, shall we? And get on to other things.

Such as … why the “snout”?

It turns out that the “snout” is formed by the “labial palps” and the “proboscis”. In this group, the labial palps are exceptionally long. What are “labial palps”? According to the glossary in my moths book, they are “a pair of segmented … appendages that project forward and usually curve upward from the lower part of the head.” They are used for sensing. Between them is the proboscis, a sort of coiled tongue that is extended to take in water and food. Many of us have watched a butterfly on a flower which has uncoiled its proboscis, probing the flower for nectar.

I didn't find any mention of the color and pattern on the wings being camouflage on tree bark, but it is the particular arrangement of lines and dots that identifies a species of moth in this group. There is  some variation in coloring among these moths. I did find mention of body “hairiness.” 

In my book, the Green Cloverworm is referred to as part of the “Deltoid Noctuids”, referring to that triangular shape of the wings at rest. They do look like tiny deltoid aircraft ready to taxi and take off. Maybe they are the inspiration for this:

Canarded Deltoid Main Wing Aircraft patent:

https://www.google.com/search?q=aircraft+with+deltoid+shape&espv=2&biw=1455&bih=726&tbm=isch&imgil=YdFi-9nMoKB7RM%253A%253BNypku0UydfZiVM%253Bhttps%25253A%25252F%25252Fwww.google.ch%25252Fpatents%25252FUS20100224735&source=iu&pf=m&fir=YdFi-9nMoKB7RM%253A%252CNypku0UydfZiVM%252C_&usg=__nMWTNPvrDK8105d9V_PzKSkl314%3D&dpr=1.1&ved=0ahUKEwjZo7Koyd3OAhVCTSYKHTPfBXoQyjcIKw&ei=bmu_V9m0NcKamQGzvpfQBw#imgrc=YdFi-9nMoKB7RM%3A 

https://www.google.com/patents/US7854409

If you are into UFO's, they also resemble the mysterious “Dark Triangles”:

http://www.ufoevidence.org/topics/triangles.htm

But, why were there so many moths all at once?

That goes back to the larva or, rather, the larval food source. The Green Cloverworm larva is a light green caterpillar with a narrow white stripe along each side of its body. It resembles a looper, except it has four pairs of prolegs instead of the looper's three pair.

As the name implies, this “worm” (really a caterpillar) prefers clover. We have plenty of clover on our property, and all around. It also is common in soybeans, and this year we are surrounded by soybean fields, including our field near the house. In fact, the Green Cloverworm larva is a “soybean defoliator.” However, despite that strong-sounding tag they don't do enough damage to be a true agricultural pest. This is because their population is checked by their susceptibility to parasites and pathogens. The Purdue Extension Entomology web site even describes for us how parasitized and diseased Green Cloverworm larvae look (see list of links at end of article.)

Their population is also checked by predators. The North Carolina State Extension Cooperative Extension Integrated Pest Management web site says, “Many entomologists consider the green cloverworm a valuable food source for beneficial insects ...”

What else do they eat, besides the clover and soybeans that are so abundant at our place this year? Here's a list of other foods (leaves) that exist somewhere on our property:

–        beans

–        peas

–        locust trees

–        ragweed

–        raspberries

–        strawberries

–        corn

–        cherry tree

–        elm tree

–        hackberry tree

–        poplar tree

–        willow tree

Abundant food source = abundant larvae = abundant moths.

Here are other food sources I found listed, not currently on our property:

–        False Indigo

–        Alfalfa (we used to raise alfalfa hay, so there may still be some out there, or some on property nearby)

–        New Jersey Tea.

–        Birch tree

They like the leaves of any legumes, and we have more of those than are listed, such as southern peas, vetch, etc.

A curious thing some of the sites describe is the reaction of larvae when disturbed which will display “a brief jumping, flopping activity” or, better yet, “thrashes violently when disturbed.” I must find one and test this.

The Bugguide.com site tells us that the moths fly from March to November but are most common in late summer and fall. That makes sense. I wonder if we'll yet have another invasion? They also say there are at least three generations per year.

The moth lays a light green, hemispherical egg on a host plant leaf, about 0.5 mm in diameter. The larva hatches out yellow and starts munching away, turning light green, and eventually growing to about 30.5  mm long, if it escapes predators and disease. The successful larva, after feeding for about four weeks, drops to the ground and burrows into the litter or soil. There it becomes a dark brown pupa about 13 mm long. After about ten days, the moth emerges, pumps out its deltoid wings and takes off – many of them to our porch this year. They can overwinter as either pupae or adult moths. (facts from the North Carolina Integrated Pest Management web site)

And, so, here they were, a horde of them, fluttering away on the screens and walls. They began to disperse, but often into the house, as they are attracted to light. If I had to open the door to the house, I'd let in about fifteen, and more than that at night.

Soon they were all over the house – little dark brown deltoids dotting the pale living room carpet (sometimes turning slowly around as if getting ready to taxi to the runway,) the walls, the windows and window sills – just everywhere. While I was working at the computer, one zoomed to my head and landed briefly on my hair. We are too busy in summer to be chasing moths, and there were too many of them, so we just let them live out their lives. Hopefully some made it back outside where they could lay eggs on larval food sources, which they cannot find in our house. I have seen some flitting over the grass outside in the sun. They are supposed to be nocturnal, but I'm not sure I believe that.

Predictably, there came a time when I frequently swept up their inert forms from windowsills, kitchen sink, room corners, shelves, etc., and sent them to the compost.

There is probably another generation of larvae out there, mostly in the still bright green soybean field, munching away. Though we always have plenty of their food sources here, there will be much less next year when the crop rotation goes back to corn.  Oh, wait a minute – corn is on the list, too.

We'll see what turns up then.

Three Green Cloverworm moths showing variation in coloring

*********************************************************************************

Eastern Moths (Peterson Field Guides); Charles V. Covell, Jr.; Houghton Mifflin Company; 1984.

Bug Guide

bugguide.net/node/view/9540

Moth Photographers Group

mothphotographersgroup.msstate.edu/species.php?hodges=8465

Purdue Extension Entomology

https://extension.entm.purdue.edu/fieldcropspm/insects/green-cloverworm.php

North Carolina State/A+T State University Cooperative Extension – Integrated Pest Management

https://ipm.ncsu.edu/AG271/soybeans/green_cloverworm.html

Wikipedia

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hypena_scabra

Persistence

Persistence

July 2016

Last year, I realized I had something special coming to my windows. That special something has been annoying and beautiful at the same time.

Before then, I was well aware of a red bird flying repeatedly into the kitchen bay window. I assumed it was a Cardinal flying at its own reflection, as if he was seeing another male “intruder” in his territory, or who mistook the window for open space.

Maybe it was a Cardinal. But it may not have been.

Two years ago, starting in May, a solid red bird kept flying into the little octagonal window in our bedroom that looks out to the back area. Sometimes he moved to the side and flew into our larger, rectangular bedroom window that looks to the young White Oak in the side yard and beyond to the woods.

This went on every single day, almost constantly, dawn to dusk. This persistent red bird became our alarm clock, of sorts. Every day, all day, we could hear it – the hard click of bird feet on glass followed by the sudden, hollow-sounding bang and the brush of beak and wings hitting glass. Why didn't that bird end up dead on the ground below, or at least broken, or, at the very least, stunned?

It just kept up repeatedly, with occasional rests. It kept this up until late summer/early autumn, though a little bit less intensely as summer went on.

And, it's been doing it again this year.

Sometimes it stops to rest on a branch of that young White Oak tree. Sometimes it rests briefly on the tiny outside ledge of the octagonal window.

It rested long enough, now and then, that I could get a better look at it, and even take some photos.

I started to notice that this “Cardinal” did not have the characteristic, distinctive crest on his head. Was this a mutant Cardinal that never developed one?

But, wait … there was something else different. It didn't have any black on its face. And, somehow, it had a different shape overall, and a different posture, a different silhouette, a different attitude than a Cardinal. A certain, unique mien.

I noticed, too, something different about the beak. A Cardinal has a conical beak, like a thick triangle in profile, primarily meant for cracking open seeds. This bird's beak was a bit longer, and it turned down just a tiny bit at the end – obviously meant for a different purpose.

This bird also did not sound as sweet as a Cardinal, to my ears. I realized that the repeated loud, complaining sounds I'd been hearing in the summertime were this bird. Though melodic, it often sounded more urgent than sing-song. And more incessant.

I went to my field guides. It didn't take long for me to identify him as the Summer Tanager (Piranga rubra, meaning “small red bird”.) After all, the male Summer Tanager is the only completely red bird (when fully mature) in North America.

And there is was – that tipped beak.

I went to the internet for more information and found that it eats mainly wasps and bees, somehow avoiding getting stung in the process. I found out why in one source (Tennessee's Watchable Wildlife) that didn't pull any punches; “They capture bees and wasps in flight, killing them by beating them against a branch, and removing the stinger before consuming the insect.” Well, I hope death comes quickly upon capture.

The web site for the Audubon Guide to North American Birds (1) added, “ … after raiding wasp nests and occasionally becoming a minor nuisance around beehives … “ I'm sure many people are happy with the “raiding wasp nests” part, but I'm not sure if our new beekeeping neighbors would like the latter. I wonder if they see Summer Tanagers around their hives.

This same source clarified the first part, telling me that it “Will break into wasp nests and eat the larvae inside. “

Besides catching these insects on the wing (in short flights after taking off from branches), this bird will also hover over branches, picking off insects from the foliage, mainly in treetops. Various sources told me that it will also eat beetles, cicadas, caterpillars, grasshoppers, bugs, flies and other insects, and some spiders.

I would think it would be full enough after all of that (they sound very beneficial for controlling insect populations), but they will sometimes eat small fruits and berries near the forest habitat. So, planting such things might help them out, as well as leaving trees on your property – especially oaks and pines.

We most definitely have a welcome place for Summer Tanagers. We have a woods full of various oak species (and the young White Oak in our yard), some windbreak pines on the other side of the house, and much in the way of small fruits and berries, wild and domestic. No wonder they keep coming back! Smorgasbord!! And, there are plenty of possible nesting places.

But, what about this bright red male Summer Tanager flying into our bedroom windows all day, every day? What in the world is he doing? And why??

Most people I've mentioned this behavior to have said “He sees his own reflection” (and thinks it's an enemy.) That was my first thought, too. Did he and a female have a nest nearby that he felt he was defending? Or was it just a broad, territorial defense?

Because of his persistence, attacking his imaginary enemy, I named him ... Don Quixote.

Sometimes when I would walk into the kitchen he would be there, flying into the bay window, occasionally resting in a nearby pine tree. He was only flying at windows that were not completely covered by screens, and that were not too close to our dogs.

Was he really following me around? I would walk back to the bedroom, and he would start attacking the octagonal window again. Does he note our presence in the house? Does he see our forms and perceive us as the enemies, instead of his reflection? Either way, it would be an imaginary enemy (or, mis-perceived), which still fit the name I had given him. And, there were still times I could hear him flying at windows in a room while we were not in it.

I wondered – was he just flying at windows to capture bugs, with that efficient, slightly curved bug-catching beak?

I watched him closely while he was at the octagonal window. It is a rather buggy spot in the summer. And, spiders tend to build webs across and near that window, providing the bird with an even easier smorgasbord. Sometimes he did land on the tiny outer edge and repeatedly jump up on the upper portion of glass. Sometimes he would sit and look upward, twisting his body and craning his neck, fluffing feathers out on the top of his head (resembling the Cardinal a little more.)

And sometimes he came back down with a bug in his beak.

Was that the reason he had been flying at windows, every day, dawn to dusk? He certainly would capture many bugs to feed himself, and his Lady Fair, and then little nestlings and fledglings.

More digging told me that Summer Tanagers are usually found in mid-canopy and above, making them harder to see (even the bright red males seem to disappear from sight into trees.) During courtship, the male often chases the female, much as he does other males during territorial disputes.

The female does the nest-building. On a branch, well out from the tree trunk, she builds a thin, shallow cup of “grass, weed stems, bark strips, leaves, spiderwebs … “ (1) and lines it with fine grass. The male doesn't help with this, but he does hang around. For moral support? I imagine him “mansplaining” nest-building instructions in Tanagerese while she labors away at gathering and weaving, doing what she already knows how to do.

Then she lays “3-5 eggs, typically 4, pale green or blue-green, with brown and gray spots, sometimes concentrated at the larger end.” (1) She incubates the eggs for only 11-12 days. The male feeds the female when she asked for food.

Photo of nest with eggs:

www.dpwagtail.com/NESTS%20Album%M-Z%20Output1/pages/Summer%20Tanager%20nest%20and%20eggs_jpg.htm

Once the little Tanagerines hatch, both parents take care of the constant task of feeding the nestlings. So, this is likely when the flying-at-windows male task turns mostly to bug-catching.

After the Tanagerines are fledged, they hang out in their parents' territory for about another three weeks (7).

I have yet to figure out where Don Quixote and his Lady Fair have been nesting. Does he have the same Lady Fair each year? One source, Birding Information (3), says they are “monogamous, but not necessarily from season to season.” That means he stays with the same mate all year, but not necessarily the same mate every year. So, who knows. What I really need to do is watch them all season, more often, and more assiduously – where the male goes when he flies into a tree, where the female goes during nest-building, etc. A more thorough study is needed, putting my new binoculars to more use.

And what of Don Quixote's Lady Fair? I finally saw her this year! I first spotted her outside the kitchen Bay window, a clearer view created by her landing on a dead pine tree. What a beautiful color – a combination of olive green and mustard yellow, each color melding into the other in various spots. It would certainly be difficult to find her in a leafy tree. Despite her non-scarlet coloring, she looks as much the tropical bird as he does.

But, my camera wasn't quick enough that time.

However, I did manage to get a photo of her during my second chance seeing her. This time she was in the same area but had hopped down to the grass and stayed there a little while.

Now, what of his constant yammering at windows? Why in the world doesn't he get hurt? I posted photos of him on Facebook last year and talked about him. A birding friend of mine commented that he must be a tough little bird, flying all the way from South America.

WHAT???

Yes. Searching for information again, I found that Summer Tanagers spend the winter in places from Mexico, the tip of Florida and in Central America all the way into northern South America, as far south as Peru. They live their other lives “ … in the tropics, mainly in lowlands, but also up to the middle elevations in mountains, both in solid forest and in edges and clearings with scattered trees.” (1)

So, while we are cranking up the heat in our houses up here, scraping ice off of windshields and shoveling snow, they are languishing in tropical paradise. But, no – there's really no laziness, no sipping exotic, colorful beverages while lounging beneath huge umbrella-like leaves. These birds have a lot of catching and eating to do, getting ready for the big spring migration. According to Bird Watcher's Digest (2); “During migration the species covers a wide front; many birds fly nonstop across the Gulf of Mexico on their journeys north and south”, arriving in North America in mid-April and departing by mid-autumn.

Wow! Can you do that? I mean, let's say, walk and swim your way, twice a year, over that distance? That's a lot of bugs you'd have to eat … or pasta, or whatever.

Despite the constant pounding at the windows all summer long, despite the repeated complaint-sounding calls, I have a great deal of respect for Don Quixote and his Lady Fair, and I think I'll even miss them this winter when there's frost on the windows and this pair is hanging in the exotic tropical forests and mountains. I hope they have no problem getting back here next year, reestablishing territory and bringing up another generation of Summer Tanagers.

You can hear various songs and calls of the Summer Tanager here:

https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Summer_Tanager/sounds

and see a video here, videotaped by Lang Elliott:

https://www.yutube.com/watch?V=EI3pZ3t2i4E

Sources:

1. Audubon Guide to North American Birds: www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/summer-tanager

2. Bird Watcher's Digest: www.birdwatchersdigest.com/bwdsite/learn/identification/tanagers/summer-tanager.php

3. Birding Information: www.birdinginformation.com/birds/tanager/summer-tanager

4. Cornell Lab of Ornithology: https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Summer_Tanager/

5. David's Photo Gallery (nest and eggs): www.dpwagtail.com/NESTS%20Album%M-Z%20Output1/pages/Summer%20Tanager%20nest%20and%20eggs_jpg.htm

6. The Sibley Field Guide to Birds of Eastern North America; David Allen Sibley; Alfred A. Knopf, N.Y.; 2003.

7. Tennessee's Watchable Wildlife: www.tnwatchablewildlife.org/details.cfm?displayhabitat=forest&sort=aounumbr&typename=FOREST&uid=09041310595420115&commonname=Summer%20Tanager

Transformation

Transformation

May 2016

May 31, 2015

May 16, 2016

I've been working diligently on a big change.

This change is to transform the garden area that is just beyond our screened porch.

For years, this area has consisted of four rectangular garden beds surrounded by Cypress boards. Three beds were 4' x 16' and the last one, furthest to the SSW, was 4' x 8'. At the ends of each I had formed semicircular mini-beds, usually bordered by brick. I always referred to the main beds as RB#1, 2, 3 and 4, RB#4 being the shorter one.

 May 17, 2013

June 19, 2014

April 2, 2015

February 23, 2014 - RB#4 with a semi-circular mini-bed on the end

Between RB#1 and the sidewalk was a rather wild area of Lemon Balm, Wild Bergamot, Goldenrod and whatever else worked. It has always been a great spot for pollinators.

November 30, 2014 - "wild" area to the right of RB#1, showing old stalks of Wild Bergamot

That wild area is still there and is somewhat representative of the changes taking place. I have planned to change the whole area from angular beds containing fairly wall-planned plantings of mostly vegetables into a wilder spot of mostly herbs, with a rambling path winding through. During a small herb festival in central Indiana last year, I was inspired by such a place – the main garden of the herbalist property owner there.

But, this was not the only inspiration. I'd say it was the impetus to go forth. The match that lit the candle I'd already formed. The window opening on a house I'd built. The stream pouring from a pitcher I'd already filled, and now I could see the nature of the water and how it could flow.

I am already a very organic person – not just in safe gardening methods and food consumption, but in the broadest sense of the word. I take an organic approach to everything, a down-to-earth/let's-get-to-the-reality-of-things approach.

In gardening, this was always true but not fully manifested until now. For years I confined myself to planting in rows, or in rows within beds, or to neat arrays within beds (after I learned more about companion planting), or some sort of pattern. I always have loved pattern – in music, fabric print, art, etc. So, I thought that was what suited me, naturally, for gardening.

But, gardening is not like those other things. You are dealing with living plants that have their own ideas, so to speak, about where and how to grow. They have their own natural forces, their own methods from constant adaptation and evolution. I learned from wild plants that they know just what to do to be successful.

I was drawn to the French Intensive garden method in which vegetables, herbs, flowers and small fruits are planted together in raised beds, but with planning and a sense of pattern, so I did that for a long time. I enjoyed, every year, laboring over my raised bed plans on paper, developing rotation patterns for vegetables. It was a creative effort. Those were good and sometimes elaborate, but I kept changing the pattern until it wasn't a pattern.

April 25, 2014 - He-Shi-Ko Scallion plants in rows within raised bed

And, I found that I had a hard time doing away with a plant that came up as a volunteer, full of vigor, in a place I didn't want it. What could I do if a nice-looking cabbage volunteer came up where there were cabbage family plants the year before, and when that family needs to be on a three-year rotation to avoid pests and diseases? And those Tina James' Magic Primrose plants – they pop up in a different spot every year (I never know where it will be) and take up loads of space. That really messed up my intricate plans!

October 3, 2015 - A volunteer peach tree, probably sprouted from a peach pit that was in added compost. I am leaving it to see how it does.

Tina James' Magic Primrose plants on May 27, 2016, in the middle of the garden area

I also found that I was gravitating more toward healing “herbs”, whether wild or cultivated. Learning to use them for myself and my family was becoming more important to me. I learned the medicinal value of plants such as Dandelion, Plantain, Dock, Chickweed and Blue Violets, making it harder for me to remove them. These are all persistent plants, too. Removing them seemed more like taking away the strong, creative spirit of a “difficult” child.

So, there it was. I was in transition, and my garden was reflecting that. The beds were getting wilder. To the “untrained” eye, they must have looked like weed patches.

November 11, 2015 - RB#1 is lush and green with flowers and vegetables. The remains of Garlic Chives are in the foreground, at the near end of RB#2.

 And I felt myself transitioning away from an ordered, angular, patterned life-way. How many times had I tried setting up strict schedules for myself that soon fell apart? It wasn't working anymore, this compartmentalization of things, this forcing into a pattern. I couldn't ignore the “wild”, and I no longer wanted to. There was a freedom developing within me, wanting to go out, be brighter and wilder. I was becoming a more relaxed person, one who needed to meander, to stop and see what was happening here and there, to let things just be.

And so that's what my main garden needed to be. This transformation was going on within me, and when I saw the herbalist's garden last year I knew what had to happen. The window opened, and I “saw the light”, so to speak.

I walked out to my raised bed area with a clipboard, paper and pencil. I roughly sketched the perimeter that I had to work with and paced out the size of it, as well as distances to the compost bins, the long resting bench, the pump in front of the well house, the old apple tree, etc. No more strings and rulers. No graph paper.

Then I roughly sketched in where there were plants I wanted to keep and go around – perennials, biennials, some successful, diligent re-seeders.

April 17, 2016 - Perennial Leeks and the biennial Giant Italian Parsley

May 3, 2016 - Egyptian Walking Onions, continued by starts from my father's garden

May 6, 2016 - Primrose and Angelica in the middle, Chamomile in the foreground

Then I sketched a path. This was interesting. I let the garden, and the plants, show me where to go with that. I didn't impose anything, including my own ideas. I went around the “keeper” plants. I wandered around on foot as much as I could, to get a feel for it. I allowed this transformation to be known in my mind's eye, and I liked the result. Maybe this was indicative of where my path was going in other aspects of my life.

April 17, 2016

I found an old green hose too damaged to use (I knew I was saving it for some reason) and draped it through the area, showing where the path would be. This helped me better to eye things.

March 25, 2016 - boards removed, but raised beds still evident

I wasn't able to do much about it again until after a series of heavy rains in early spring. At first I removed practically all of the Cypress boards (which were mostly rotten) to put down at the barn. In doing so, I found a native Mantis egg case attached to one, a special treat since we almost always find those of the Chinese Mantid, attached to stalks.

There were days and days of heavy rain. When I could, I started moving earth, taking some where the paths would be and adding it to where garden places would be, especially in the lower areas that had been between raised beds. This alone was a huge transformation that changed the way the whole area felt. Also, there were spots of rich, dark soil where I had been adding compost and other healthy stuff over the years, full of worms, so I made sure that went on planting spaces. Eventually, the paths consisted of clay soil that had not been enhanced.

I began to lay newspapers and cardboard in the paths as I created them, and weighted those down. This was to suppress weeds (which trampling would eventually help to do, too) and make it easier to walk when things got muddy. Eventually I will cover all of that with something like wood chips.

March 25, 2016 - the path mulching begins

May 3, 2016 - more soil sculpting and path mulching

May 6, 2016 - the West Entrance - Garlic Chives to the left, Egyptian Walking Onions to the right

May 6, 2016 - more sculpting, and the North Entrance appears

Growing areas were becoming more defined. Some ended up high from the path, others more level with it. This would help me determine what kinds of plants to put in open spaces, and the terrain changes also added interest along the way.

May 6, 2016 - a raised, central area becomes obvious

May 6, 2016 - view from the South (South Entrance taking shape in the lower right)

May 6, 2016 - a new bed is formed, the outside edge lined with railroad station bricks (a short board left in the garden shows where one end of a raised bed used to be)

I started to remove some plants. As spring moved on with more rain, sun and warmth, more volunteers showed up, growing taller and broader, and more vigorous. As much as I don't like to remove them, I decided to remove a number of them – there were just too many. But, I did it gradually, removing plants as things took shape. However, I did intend to make use of lots of them such as drying Dandelion leaves for green powder, roasting Dandelion roots for tea, making Plantain leaf salve, etc. I would strategically leave some of these plants in the garden. Garlic Chives were the most prolific and dense, so I significantly decreased that population, leaving one large patch.

May 6, 2016 - the northwest corner, yet to be tackled

May 27, 2016 - Yarrow (blooming) left in place, and grass next to it to be removed

May 27, 2016 - I don't know what that very tall plant is - I am waiting for it to bloom to figure it out

May 27, 2016 - Besides leaving some plants, I also left one animal sign. I had discovered this snake hole some years ago while digging - and had also seen the snake! I had forgotten about it until I was forming the paths and beds of this new garden. It remains to be seen if a snake is still using it, but the hole is now more exposed at the edge of the path. 

Gradually, I added plants that I had grown or bought, putting the highly-scented ones next to the path so that people would brush against them. The scents would help them enjoy the garden even more.

May 18, 2016 - Munstead Lavender

May 18, 2016 - Hidecote Lavender, on the opposite side of the path from the Munstead

May 27, 2016 - Common Sage

May 27, 2016 - Pineapple Sage

May 18, 2016 - Lemon Thyme, Oregano and others in a new bed

April 17, 2016 - Carouby the Maussane snow pea seeds planted

May 31, 2016 - Carouby the Maussane pea plants growing taller - seed for Arkansas Little Leaf Cucumbers, Nasturtiums and Petunias planted in front

May 27, 2016 - Mammoth Dill and Purple Cauliflower tucked in next to the West Entrance

May 27, 2016 - little cherry tomato plants

May 18, 2016 - Sunflowers transplanted from a French garden in town, looking wilted ...

... but perking up by May 27, 2016.

May 31, 2016 - a corner of Calendula coming up from scattered seed

May 27, 2016 - Hardy Kiwi and Goji Berry plants have been put in. They are next to the sticks covered with plastic bags (which have the growing information printed on them.) In the background is a tall plant that turned out to be volunteer Hollyhock. but the color of the flowers remains a mystery until bloom time.

May 27, 2016 - one of the Hardy Kiwi plants

Gradually, I added some fun items here and there.

May 27, 2016 - Frog Buddy

May 27, 2016 - framed by Blue Violet plants and Angelica blooms

May 27, 2016 - I bought this lovely dragonfly last February from a vendor at a maple syrup festival. Its wings, made from a light mesh, flutter nicely in the breeze.

In the middle of the area I placed “the decrepit old wooden ladder.” I had just used it when helping our daughter and son-in-law paint when the second step finally gave way. It would have a new job as support for some Red Malabar vines and one of the Hardy Kiwi. It also added an interesting focal point.

May 18, 2016 - as seen from the North Entrance

May 18, 2016 - as seen from the East Entrance

May 27, 2016 - Surely it is not bad luck to look through a ladder.

I find that I enjoy walking the path, even though it is not all mulched yet and there is still much work to do transforming this garden. It gives me a sense of place, and I can test to see that it's really going where it needs to go. I've done just a little bit of tweaking to make it easier to walk.

May 27, 2016

May 27, 2016

It turns out that the cats love it, too. From the beginning, Mireille has been merrily trotting along the trail, sometimes stopping to roll around or scratch her claws on the cardboard. For some reason, the path helped her discover the Catnip that has been there for years.

May 4, 2016 - Mireille traipsing along the new path, as she often does

May 18, 2016 - Mireille discovers the old Catnip

The other cats have been investigating and exploring, too. I have to wonder what chickens would do, if we still had them.

May 27, 2016 - Silas next to the Tina James' Magic Primroses

It is still transforming. But, when I am working in any part of it, I feel more “at home” than I have in any other garden. It connects with something in me. The atmosphere is right. It transforms me by tapping into something that I already have.

Every now and again I work on another section – whatever most needs it next. I have developed four entrances, which I had drawn on paper according to where they just needed to fall. But, they have taken form in new ways (such as becoming widely flared to the outside) and they just happen to be in the four directions.

May 27, 2016 - near the "wild area", the North Entrance to the right

May 27, 2016 - at the North Entrance

Instead of planning it all ahead, I am flowing with the process, and the process then flows along with me.

May 18, 2016 - West Entrance

And, the view from the screened porch is getting more and more interesting.

May 31, 2015

May 16, 2016