Lots of rain and mild weather have made this one of the most luscious Springs I’ve ever seen here.
Archive for the 'Garden and Nature' Category
He awoke, as usual, way too early, around 7 AM. Being a night person, that meant he only got 4-5 hours of sleep, not quite enough. But it happened often to him. And since optimism wasn’t one of his surpluses, a heaviness filled him seeing dawn’s early light.
He felt the warm little body of Punky, his oldest cat, next to him. The thermostat was set to go down to 55 at night to save energy, so Punky, now almost 18, always slept as close as possible to his body to keep warm.
Instead he found Perlin, his younger Siamese, in Punky’s place. He petted Perlin, and asked him what he had done with Punky, whose spot he had taken. Perlin just looked at him with that look cats give which can mean anything. “Punky, who?” or “I was just asleep, why are you asking me?” Rather than roll over to fall asleep until a more civilized hour, he got up to see where Punky was.
The furnace had kicked on to heat the house up, as it was set to do about this hour. But the air was still burning cold to his near naked skin. He had almost no fat on his body, so the cold went right through to his bones as he descended the stairs in boxer shorts.
He found Punky sitting on one of the spindly café chairs by the back window, like a little monk folded up in a peaceful meditation pose. At first he seemed lonely to Dorn. After all, if he were human, old as an oak sitting alone in a cold room, he would seem lonely. But then he realized Punky wasn’t too bad off. The chair he was sitting on was right over a large heating vent, which was now blasting nice, cozy warm air, and would be for at least the next half hour.
He approached Punky and tried to pet him, but he pulled away. He rose out of his meditative pose and turned to face the picture window behind him. Dorn’s eyes followed.
The morning was a brittle white icing on a cake which had sat out for a day too long. The fresh snow from the day before had hardened under a bitter blanket of night cold. Tracks and various marks held account of the previous day’s activities. He could see where he had stepped to sweep the back steps and where he walked through the garden to shake the piles of snow off the evergreen branches to keep them from collapsing under the its weight. His car had made two crystalline geometric tracks into the now closed garage.
In the sky, a sharp slice of thin moon pierced the aching dawn. He was reminded of the movie he had seen the night before on network TV, The Day After Tomorrow, about how global warming could create terrible mega-storms which might, in one scenario, bring down the crushing cold of space to earth’s fragile surface, freezing everything on it. But this sky had the promise of life-giving warmth just beyond its horizon, a glow to which the moon pointed, and which Punky faced through the window.
Through the double pane glass he heard a bird chirp, one piercing peep. It was still gray enough to hide clear sight of the scene outside. Most birds were still asleep, he figured. He found the bird, a female cardinal, her brownish red blending with the twisted sticks of the wisteria clamoring over the garage.
Then he noticed that the bird feeder, a covered rectangular platform like a little house atop a six foot pole, was empty. Though he filled it daily they ate it as fast as he could fill it. He knew a swarm of birds would soon be fluttering around looking for breakfast on that feeder. They relied on it, especially when snow covered the ground.
The cardinal swooped to the feeder and pecked at it. It was only ten feet from the back window. Half naked and singed with cold, Dorn stood there and watched. It looked so cold out. But he knew he had to fill that feeder. He couldn’t go back to bed with the lingering thought of those cold birds.
He went upstairs to cover his bony body with a terrycloth robe and bedroom slippers. Punky continued staring out the back window as Dorn opened the back door. As he broke beyond the wall of heat coming from the vent by the door, his skin recoiled against the heat sucking molecules of dense lifeless air. If he had fur, it would stand on end to conserve warmth. Instead, the benign terrycloth did little to help. Luckily the garage, where the birdseed was stored, wasn’t more that twenty feet away.
After dumping a bowl full of seed on the feeder, he scurried back indoors. Punky ignored his shivering entrance and continued to peer out the window. Within minutes the show began as the light rose from within the dead cold snow. Dozens of birds appeared from the dormant scenery around the garden. The feeder became grand central station, with flights arriving and departing in a continuous stream from the hub to all the bushes and trees around the garden.
A lone squirrel, covered in snow like a little kid out in it for the first time, dug for scrap seed in the frozen icing as patiently as a scholar seeking a cure for cancer. All this activity filled Dorn’s mind against the leering void of the the approaching day. Sharp rays of sun now splintered the aching cold morning into pieces he could grasp and hold onto.
Punky turned around to gaze at him with a kitty kiss, eyes slowly closing and opening.
I haven’t written much about the garden for awhile. My obsession with gardening has mellowed with time and age. However, after 17 years of maturing, this garden could be seen as a reflection of myself: a bit wild, a bit of fantasy, full of variety, inviting, comforting and stable within a pattern of constant change and interest.
When I first started gardening, I read all the books on garden design. My goal was not so much the pattern of design as it was variety and constant interest, meaning a balance of evergreen and deciduous, color (including leaves and flowers) all season, and scented flowers all season.
With my large nose I am able to smell quite well. I enjoy noticing the shapes, colors and essences of a scent.
The sense of smell overrides memory and thought. It is a primal experience. Most of us are probably more discerning than we think, but we tend to ignore our nose’s input because it doesn’t serve our daily lives much. Unless you are a perfumer, smell doesn’t help make money, get chores done, feed the kids or pay the bills.
Yet through the day your nose can “see” the air around you via the scents wafting near your face. Not all are beautiful, but each gives texture and depth to your experience.
The garden offers constant interest for the nose. In my garden I have three early blooming Witch Hazels (Hamamelis) which flower in late winter, usually February to March in in Ohio. Two of them were chosen for the flower color and size, but their smell is weak.
One, Hamamelis Vernalis, has insignificant looking flowers, but a very strong, sweet smell of cloves and honey. On a slightly warm, breezy late winter day when the sun is shining, that sweet smell floats across the garden to delight your nose with the promise of Spring to come. It’s a rare treat. The flowers are built to endure hard frost, so even after a week of severe weather during its time of bloom, the scent will remain in waiting for the next nice day.
Summer offers a plethora of heavily sweet smelling flowers. I have a few hardy roses in my shady garden. My favorite rose smells are those of “old rose”, richer and more heady than “tea” roses. Some contain hints of gardenia, sassafras and cherry.
Of all summer scents, my favorite is that of Asiatic Lilies, particularly the giant white Casablanca. Its scent packs a wallop with thick, creamy layers of baked vanilla custard filled with cardamom carried on a background of citrus.
Scented tobacco (Nicotiana alata) flowers are a bit spicier, offering a cinnamon allspice smell only at night. Their glowing white flowers engage the interest of moths at night to complete their pollination.
Other scented flowers in my garden include: Honeysuckle, some Hostas, some daffodils, Sweet Autumn Clematis, Seven Sons Tree (Heptacodium miconioides) and Bee Balm.
After most other flowers have faded and dropped, one plant just begins to bloom. Cimicifuga “Black Beauty” has dark brown to black leaves during Spring and Summer. Then long stalks arise a foot or more above the plant. As the weather cools in September to October, small white flowers open along the top of each stalk. Their lack of ornamental beauty is well balanced by their strong, sweet smell. Vanilla, clove and honey prevail.
At almost anytime of year in my garden, you could go out blindfolded and still enjoy an array of beautiful and alluring scents.
I promised a few photos of flowers from the Whetstone Prairie in Columbus, OH, and here they are, at least some for now.
Every time I walk through it, I notice yet another wildflower to add to the list. This time I found a Thistle bush, some kind of Speedwell, Aster, Blue Indian Grass and Joe Pie Weed. Some of these are not very prolific yet, but I’m sure they will spread their seed over time. I also know that volunteers are continuing to plant seedlings of unusual varieties to maintain a colorful balance. (click on the thumbnail for a larger photo on another page)
The educational demo garden has been in bloom since June. Back then the flowers in bloom included this Purple Allium, Butterfly Weed and Sullivant’s Milkweed.
The Sullivant’s Milkweed was covered with bees. The plant is about 3 feet tall with large oval leaves. The individual flowers, about a quarter inch across and held in clusters of dozens, look like Jetsons spaceships.
As I took photos of them, another insect swooped in and floated by each flower like a humming bird while it sucked the nectar from them. Apparently it’s named as it should be, a Hummingbird Moth. I had seen these in my garden but never this close. What a cool insect!!
Now the Sullivant’s Milkweed has gone to seed. The fertilized flowers extend and twist down, then up. Large pods form at the ends of these snake like heads. These will bloat and stretch to 6 inches long by 2 inches wide, before bursting open to release thousands of flying seeds.
Back in June, the Cup Plants had already reached 3 or 4 feet tall. For the most part they had not started flowering. Now they are 6-8 feet tall and in full flower. However the flowers are the the most interesting part of these prairie giants. Their usefulness as a water holder for birds and insects makes these plants one of the most important of the prairie. During dry spells, their cupped leaves hold water for weeks until the next rain. And each morning, any dew collected by the leaves drips into this cup.
This Summer has been one of the driest in recent memory. The ground is cracked and parched. Yet the flowers in the prairie are glorious. One barely notices any stress for these plants. They have evolved to grow very deep roots, often 8-10 feet deep, to withstand harsh, dry and hot Summers.
One of my favorite parts of the prairie is a large stand of Bee Balm, or wild Monarda, mixed with Coneflowers (Echinacia). The flower has a subtle, pale lavender color and emits a wonderful cinnamon, cedar smell.
The smells in the air change each time I walk through the field, depending on the time of day, direction of breeze and flower season. Near sunset, the air changes. If the sky is clear, cooler air falls into the center of the field, lowering the temperature there an hour before the areas around the edge, which are buffered by large trees. During this change, all the smells become denser and richer. Evening swallows emerge and swirl above the scene as the sun sets in the cradle formed by two large trees at the west end of the field.
I have developed a nice habit of taking daily walks through the park near my house. It started last Summer, when I realized how valuable walking is as a relaxing meditation. I used to jog fairly often through this park, but my attention was on “getting somewhere” rather than enjoying the scenery and my thoughts.
Whetstone Park in Columbus, OH is a large, city park established in the 1930’s. A well maintained bike path runs through the park. This path connects with other river parks and runs almost continuously through about 20 or more miles through the city. I’ve biked the 7 miles from my house to downtown hardly using any streets.
The North side of the park holds the glorious and nationally famous Whetstone Park of Roses, which features thousands of roses in bloom all Summer, and which boasts the newest, cutting edge hybrids the year before they are publicly released!
Just a few blocks from my house an entrance to the park leads to the path along the Olentangy River. (Locals like to jokingly call it the Old and Grungy River, because it’s not very clean or pretty.) The photo shows the are I pass through soon after leaving my house.
About 5 years ago, a large field which had been used for soccer and dog running was converted into a prairie. The middle of the field was often soggy after a rain. The park is large and has numerous other, better fields for soccer and field games, so this seemed like a good spot for a prairie. The wet spots are now “vernal pools”, which hold water during the rainy seasons and are necessary breeding ground for frogs and other amphibians. Dragonflies and Damselflies also hunt there. At sunset, the dragonflies can be seen flying high the pool, intermingling with the evening Swallows and perhaps getting eaten.
The Whetstone Prairie is a joint effort between the Columbus Parks and Recreation Dept. and Columbus Wild Ones: Native Plants, Natural Landscapes, a local non-profit branch of a national organization, Wild-Ones. Hundreds of volunteers help prepare and maintain the field.
At first the field was let to grow somewhat wild. The grasses went to seed and grew several feet tall. I’m guessing this was to shade out some of the smaller weeds. Designated paths were kept mowed to be passable on foot.
A few months later, I noticed that a few acres of the 6 in the field had been sprayed with herbicide. I wasn’t sure if this was particularly kosher for developing a natural habitat, but I could also understand, considering how weed infested the ground is.
After the cleared area settled a bit, perhaps a month later, I noticed a few dozen small plants had been placed near what was to be the main entrance for the prairie. These were demonstration plants for visitors to learn names and shapes. It’s nice to be able to get close to each of several varieties, especially for photos. The wild field is difficult to walk though. Nor would I want to disturb nesting creatures.
The rest of the cleared field was seeded with dozens of varieties of prairie flowers: Cup Plants, Bee Balm, Black Eyed Susans, Queen Ann’s Lace, Cone Flowers, Cardinal Flowers, Butterfly Weeds, Gay Feathers, Asters and various other sun flowers. Over the next year these plants matured into a dense, thicketed and healthy prairie.
The remaining 4-5 acres were never sprayed, but were seeded with millions of wildflower seeds. However, those areas have struggled with nasty weed infestations such as dandelion, plantain and crabgrass.
I have watched the purveyors of the prairie try several methods to favor the natural prairie flowers. This year they mowed those parts down and raked up the dried stems, perhaps allowing light and air to reach the somewhat established prairie flowers. So far it still looks pretty weedy. I’m not sure what they plan for this area. Perhaps it will take times for the prairie flowers to dominate, which are ultimately quite durable once established. I plan to learn more of these methods and will report back to you.
This Spring the original few acres were “scorched” to weaken some invasive tree seedlings and other weeds. Prairie plants have amazingly deep roots, often 8-10 feet, which allow survival after scorching. In natural prairie settings, dry years often bring flash fires which scorch the earth, accomplishing the same goal. Apparently, firefighters used propane flame throwers to do the job, under the supervision of prairie experts. I remember the brown and black earth smelling of smoke in early Spring. Now it’s filled with 9 foot giant cup plants and hundreds of other flowers.
I know I’ve barely touched on the details of this beautiful project, but I will be writing regularly about this prairie, which is now central to my meditative walks.
It’s difficult to capture the mood of the place; exuberant bird song fills the field, echoing off the high canopy of trees surrounding it. There are two large trees in the middle of the field, which often “hold” the sun as it sets. Hundreds of goldfinches flutter around the sunflowers now in bloom.
Glancing around the blogosphere, I’m sure there are numerous such projects. One post I found was about a Dallas area park featuring wild areas for mixed use.
Another lesson from this local wild prairie is which plants might be useful in our own private gardens. Native plants and wild flowers tend to be more durable over the long run and will also help rejuvenate the local habitat of your area. Many of the flowers listed above are easy to grow and beautiful in any garden.
In my next post I’ll feature photos of many of the flowers now in bloom.