Flamboyant Pileated Woodpeckers

Our rural location in upstate South Carolina is a bird mecca. We host a variety of bird species, large to small. One of my favorites is the pileated woodpecker, which are common across southeastern forests. Last summer, I tried repeatedly to capture a photo of these beautiful birds. We have at least six living in the woods near our home. They became accustomed to my presence in the front gardens, and would swirl and swoop around as if they were showing off their pretty black, white, and red plumage. Every time I popped the lens cover off the camera, however, they disappeared. When the lens cover went back into place, they would reappear. It was almost as if they were messing with me. I finally gave up, contented to see them at a distance, hear their distinctive calls, and witness their impressive excavation skills.

The first time I saw one of their squarish excavations, I did not realize what I was seeing. Later, I found that the tree was inhabited by large black ants, a favorite snack of the pileated woodpecker. Still later, I witnessed one going after the insects inside the bark of a tree stump near the driveway. The noise alone was impressive, but the shower of wood debris sent all directions was awesome.

Pileated woodpecker are big birds, almost as large as crows. Their heads are topped by neat red crests that make them easily distinguishable. The word pileated means capped. You can see large patches of white on their wings when they fly. The head crest on juveniles is smaller and less pointed, almost like a bird version of mohawk haircut.

As long as dead trees (“snags”) in our woodlands are not endangering buildings, driveways, or walking paths, we allow them to stand. These snags offer an ideal bird home. Woodpeckers seem to prefer tall trees over shorter ones. They raise one brood in a tree cavity, then abandon it and create a new cavity for the next brood. These excavated holes are used by other birds and small mammals. An average pileated brood consists of four eggs. Hatchlings fledge in about a month.

Pileated woodpeckers mate for life, but males and their females roost in separate cavities at night, even if they use the same tree. They are primarily insect-eaters but may also visit feeders, especially if suet is offered. They also eat fruits, nut, berries, and beetle grubs.

In late November, I misidentified a small bird that was visiting my prized Styrax japonica tree. I thought it was a juvenile pileated woodpecker, but when I approached, I realized that it was a redbellied woodpecker systematically destroying the tree’s bark. I kept shooing it away but this fella was not to be deterred. I eventually wrapped the tree trunk in hardware cloth, which he ignored. I then swaddled the entire tree in a garden mesh fabric. It looked awful but I was willing to do what had to be done to avoid the trunk being completely girdled and the tree killed. Aside: why, oh why, is a redbellied woodpecker so named, when it has a red head but not a red belly?

Pileated woodpeckers do not migrate. And I am happy to report that their populations are growing, a remarkable feat considering the housing growth in America taking over woodlands. Banded birds have been studied for their longevity. They have a lifespan of 12 years or so.

A male pileated woodpecker. The cheek stripe on a female is black instead of red.

Redbellied sapsucker

Sapsucker damage to bark

Expanding The Gardeners' Vocabulary

I added a new word to my gardening vocabulary this week: thermotropism. In simple words, this is a plant’s reaction to temperature changes. Rhododendron exhibits one of the most obvious reactions to cold weather. When the weather turns frigid, Rhododendron leaves curl inward. It may look like the plant is suffering from drought, but instead it is reducing the surface area exposed to cold to keep internal moisture from evaporating.

While I was researching thermotropism, I discovered an entire family of -isms in the horticulture world. Phototropism is when a plant moves in reaction to light (sun). I’m sure you have seen in your own gardens how sunflowers turn their heads to the east to catch the morning sun, then slowly turn toward the west as afternoon arrives. Foxgloves and daffodils do the same.

Thigmotropism is when a plant encounters a solid surface and reacts to it – like a morning glory curling around a trellis. A reaction to the presence of chemicals is chemotropism. Think of the way roots move towards areas of higher soil fertility. A plant’s reaction to gravity is called geotropism or gravitropism. Movement in search of water is hydrotropism. And some plants react to touch. The tickle of insect legs will cause a Venus Flytrap to snap closed around its next meal.

The southeast is predicted to experience a serious winter storm later this week, the first measurable snowfall in my town since 2022. It might be an insignificant event in the opinion of my friends that moved from Michigan, Minneapolis, and South Dakota. For this SC native, anything more than an inch of snowfall can rightfully be called a blizzard. So, I’m going to practice thermotropism, and wrap myself into a down duvet like a human taco. Friends, stay safe and warm!

Thirsty? No - COLD! This Rhododendron has curled its leaves as self-protection..

Photo By Nicholas A. Tonelli - Flickr: Nature's Thermometers, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=24186333

Chindo Viburnum for Privacy Hedge

When cold weather arrives, I retreat into my shell (down vest) like a threatened turtle. There isn’t much to gladden the heart of this heat-loving gardener. Deciduous plants have dropped their leaves, perennials have passed into dormancy, and annual flowers are long gone. The refreshing appearance of evergreen trees and shrubs make the landscape tolerable. Needled evergreens can be damaged by ice. Limbs of broadleaf evergreens like Magnolia grandiflora break under snow loads. Harsh winds punish palms and conifers. Let me recommend an evergreen that seems to tolerate wind, ice, and snow without damage: Viburnum awabuki ‘Chindo.’

Before I met ‘Chindo,’ I thought of all Viburnums as smallish, deciduous shrubs. A few are known for fragrant flowers or colorful fruit. Others have especially nice fall color. The Chinese Snowball Bush is popular for its large, round white flowers in spring, resembling white mophead Hydrangea flowers.

Chindo Viburnum is an evergreen, low-maintenance shrub that will reach heights up to 20 feet and widths up to 15 feet. Plants can be kept smaller with annual pruning. Somewhat irregular in youth, Chindo matures to a pyramidal shape. It is cold hardy in zones 7b-9b. It will grow in a wide range of soil types and acidity. Chindo prefers part shade to full sun. It looks best when shaded from direct sun at the hottest part of the day. Established plants are moderately drought resistant. The thick, dark green leaves are so shiny they look polished. Plants grow fast – one to two feet per year, making it a good choice for blocking unsavory views.

All resources say that Chindo, introduced by J.C.Raulston, is known for its heavy set of red fruit clusters that follow white flowers which appear in early summer. I had a grouping of four plants, three of which were obtained as rooted cuttings from the fourth. I did not experience heavy berry set. In fact, I don’t recall any flowering. This probably means that my plants needed an outside pollinator instead of same-plant clones, and perhaps that I grew them in too shady an area. Even without flowers or berries, it is on my favorites list for its healthy appearance and low maintenance needs. Bonus: Chindo is rarely browsed by deer.

Select Chindo Viburnum for a privacy hedge, as an alternative to Magnolia, Tea Olive, Holly, or Arborvitae.

A bit gawky in youth, shown here, this Chindo Viburnum matured to a lovely pyramidal shape.

Time Change Woes

We changed from Daylight Saving Time to Standard Time three weeks ago. I am still having trouble adjusting. As I sat at the computer last night, ready to research a plant for this blog, my eyes drifted over to the window. Dark, cool, rainy. It must be approaching 10pm, I reasoned. A glance at the clock said it was just a few minutes after 7pm. How is that possible? Instead of delving into horticultural mysteries, I decided to investigate the background of Daylight Saving Time (“DST”).

First, notice that it is Daylight Saving Time, not Savings. Even though Benjamin Franklin is thought to be the originating party, time changes were suggested by George Washington back in 1784 as a means of conserving candlewax. Instead, he suggested that sleeping residents could be roused by the sound of church bells or even cannon fire. This seems absurd now, but that was a different time. His suggestion went nowhere. In 1916, Germany established DST as a way to conserve fuel during World War I. The US followed for seven months before reverting to Standard Time. DST was enacted again by President Franklin Roosevelt in February 1942. This change was for all year, and it was labeled “War Time” (WWII).

In 1945, Congress decided to allow states to make their own decisions about keeping DST or reverting to Standard Time. The result was chaos. Train schedules were impossible to establish without nation-wide consistency. Interstate travel and trade were confused. Neighboring states might be the same, or might not.

Beginning in 1966, our nation’s clocks were reset on the first Sunday of April and the last Sunday of November. In 2007, the reset changed to the second Sunday in March and the first Sunday in November. This alteration was part of the Energy Policy Act of 2005, signed by then-President Bush as part of a larger plan to reduce fossil fuel usage and improve air quality.

All states now follow DST except Arizona and Hawai’i. The change pleases golfers and shop owners, allowing for more people to be out playing and shopping before the onset of darkness. Farmers, on the other hand, want to get started early and say that it confuses their animals. I’ve never seen cattle wearing watches or consulting their phones, so I assume that the displeasure is with feeding times. [If you are a farmer who is unhappy with the change, please feel free to enlighten me.] About 70 countries follow the change, while India, China, Japan, and most African countries do not.

Time changes disrupt our bodies’ natural rhythms, which can manifest itself with increased car accidents, job site injuries, short tempers, and even heart attacks. I am one of those who prefer we pick one or the other, and remain with it instead of the twice-yearly change. I don’t think I am in the minority, since 19 states have requested that DST become permanent. In response, Congress proposed the Sunshine Protection Act of 2023. It died before passage, and was not resurrected in 2024. Perhaps we will see a change in the future.

And I finally learned why the drop-an-hour/add-an-hour change happens at 2am instead of some other time. In 1966, there were no Amtrak trains leaving New York City at 2am, so this was the least disruptive choice and had the lowest impact on travelers.

Great Plant with Identity Issues

I have found the perfect groundcover for sloped garden locations with poor clay soil and no irrigation.

Mezoo is a succulent, trailing annual plant that typically grows to six inches tall or less. In fertile soil and with a little irrigation in dry periods, it may spread to six feet wide. It has fleshy leaves and small flowers that are a bright red or pink color. The succulent stems can be brittle, so if any repositioning is desired, it should be done when the plant is young.

Mezoo will thrive in a wide range of soil types. It is tolerant of both full sun and partial shade. Its drought tolerance makes it a great choice for xeric gardens. Mezoo is a versatile plant that can be used as a ground cover, as a border plant, in hanging baskets, or as a container plant.

Mezoo is low maintenance, susceptible to few pests or diseases, and requires no pruning or deadheading. Mealybugs and spider mites can occasionally be a problem. Mezzo turns to mush with the first hard freeze but established plants will tolerate a light frost. It will not withstand foot traffic.

This is one of those rare instances when I identify a plant only by a common name. I have seen it offered in nurseries as Baby Sunrose, Heartleaf Ice Plant, and Livingstone Daisy. In reference materials, it is listed as Aptenia cordifolia, Dorotheanthus bellidiformus, and most recently, Mesembryanthemum cordifolium 'Variegata'. I may be confused as to the correct binomial identity, but there is no confusion over its beauty and its ability to bring beauty to a difficult planting site.

Mezoo is easily propagated from stem cuttings. My current collection was started from a single plant purchased several years ago. I have already started cuttings for next year to overwinter in my greenhouse. The variegated edge to its leaves means it will brighten a dark area and draw attention to the shrubs it surrounds.

A closeup view of Mezoo’s flowers.

Mezoo in a hanging basket

Photo taken 11/4/2024, after a four week period without rain. This bed is located at the top of a slope. The fleshy leaves of Mezoo contrast nicely with the spreading Yew and does not war with the adjacent variegated Ajuga.

Passionflower Pops In The Garden

When we first moved to our current property, I was excited to find Maypop plants (Passiflora incarnata, pronounced pas-si-FLOR-ah in-kar-NAH-tuh) growing. This native vine tolerates heat and drought. I found it in sunny areas as well as partly sunny areas, on inhospitable soils that receive no supplemental irrigation. Maypop is cold hardy in zones 5-9. It borders on aggressive in the Snoddy garden. I have tried to eradicate it in several unwanted locations, but it springs back to life from its deep roots. It grows very rapidly, and can be used as a groundcover.

Another common name for Maypop is Passionflower. The intricate flowers are purple and white, with a central structure that was used by Catholic priests in the 16th century to symbolize or describe the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, the passion. How did the common name arise? Well, if you step on one of the fruits, it “may pop.”

I allowed several vines to remain in the pollinator bed next to our orchard (okay, I got lazy and allowed them to flourish unchecked). The flowers are beautiful, unlike anything else. I was looking forward to eating the egg-size fruit, which is reputed to be delicious. The internal structure is similar to pomegranate. I kept an eye on them, ready to harvest as soon as the lime-green fruits turned yellow. Unfortunately, the wild creatures that live in our woodlands are not so patient. They removed the almost-ripe fruits from my vines. All but one, and that one lonely survivor showed teeth marks from either groundhogs, opossums, skunks, or rabbits. Sorry, I don’t share food with rodents.

Even without harvesting a single fruit, I am glad that I allowed the vines to remain. Their leaves have fed a number of different larvae and adult butterflies have flocked to the flowers. A common name for the Gulf fritillary butterfly is passion butterfly. While Maypop fruit is edible, the vine stems and leaves are toxic to humans, dogs, cats, and horses. Deer leave the vines untouched, but Japanese beetles devour the foliage. Despite its toxicity, Maypop would make a great addition to a pollinator garden, especially when planted in a container to eliminate root spread and given a trellis to support its climbing via tendrils.  One trusted university source says that the vines are extremely flammable and should not be planted near the home.

Maypop flower

Maypop fruit

Maypop thicket

Maypop fruit (NOT mine)

It's a Plant-Eat-Plant World

When the parasitic plant Dodder (genus Cuscuta) appears in the garden, it is easy to imagine that someone has dropped a package of yellow drinking straws, or that sprites in the fairy garden have been playing with spray cans of Silly String. The random threads of yellow or orange remind me of those nylon cords used to tie hay bales or pine needle bales. Dodder does not contain chlorophyll and must obtain all its nutrition from another plant, thus defining itself as a parasite. While some parasitic plants barely damage their hosts, Dodder can weaken or even kill a host plant by sucking away its moisture and nutrition.

Dodder starts life as a seed. Once it sprouts, this relative of the common morning glory goes seeking a sugar daddy. When a victim plant is targeted (ten days or less from germination), Dodder inserts a feeding tube, known botanically as a haustorium, to extract sustenance from the host. Once the feeding tube is in place, the roots detach from soil and it becomes completely dependent on the host. It twines around the food source, attaching new feeding tubes as it grows. The stems appear leafless, although tiny leaves are hidden along the rope-like stems.

Dodder has difficulty invading a woody companion, so most of its victims are soft stemmed, herbaceous plants. Several years ago, I spotted a vacant field of kudzu that had been covered with Dodder. It had spread from plant to plant, ensnaring the entire field. It looked like a bizzare mixed-media artwork. Preferred target plants range from clover to dahlias, petunias to potatoes.

Despite its pleasantly unique appearance (I mean, who doesn’t love Silly String?), if you see this plant anywhere in your garden, you should hasten to remove it by pruning away the affected branches of the host plant. This is a viciously competitive pest. If the host has been invaded in numerous places, the entire plant may need to be removed. There are no herbicides that will kill Dodder without killing the host plant as well. The tiny white or yellow flowers appear in late summer to early fall. The blooms produce pea-like fruits that contain four seeds.

Freezing temperatures kill Dodder, so it is less of a problem in locations with winter cold. In frost-free areas, it grows unchecked. In temperate areas where Dodder has grown in the past, be vigilant in spring to remove any new plants that germinate from last season’s seeds.

Dodder forming a net on host plant. Photo By Orangerind - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=124687004

An infestation of Dodder, entirely covering an area of plants of unknown variety.

By Salil Kumar Mukherjee - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=148639645

Proven Perennial Selections

Thanks to pleasantly warm temperatures and plentiful rains, my garden is thriving right now. So are the weeds, meaning that much of my outdoor time is spent in uprooting little monsters before they become big monsters.

Recently, I have received numerous inquiries from new gardeners, asking for plant recommendations. Every one of these gardeners has told me that they want to plant perennials only and no annuals. I get it. Annuals need to be replaced yearly, a recurring expense and effort. Yet, gardens benefit from the additional of a few annuals to add a lush appearance while the perennials are becoming established. Annuals tend to bloom throughout the season, while most perennials have a short flowering window. In my opinion, the most attractive gardens have it all: trees, shrubs, perennials, annuals, bulbs, vines, groundcovers.

If you are one of those who adamantly insist on perennials to the exclusion of all else, I am listing the Perennial Plant Association’s “Plant of the Year” winners for the last 27 years. Select from this list as you design your garden and you are likely to have a good experience. Finicky perennials don’t land here. I’ve killed a couple of the other featured plants (2020 and 2018), and removed a couple I didn’t cherish (2015, 2008, 1995). I am growing 2019’s Betony for the first time, and I am loving it so far. It is covered with pollinating insects from dawn to dusk.

2024 Phlox paniculata 'Jeana' (phlox)
2023 Rudbeckia ‘American Gold Rush’ (black-eyed Susan)
2022 Schizachyrium scoparium (little blue stem)
2021 Clinopodium nepeta subsp. nepeta Calamint
2020 Aralia cordata 'Sun King' Japanese spikenard 
2019 Stachys monieri 'Hummelo' Betony
2018 Allium ‘Millenium’ (ornamental onion)
2017 Asclepias tuberosa (butterfly milkweed)
2016 Anemone x hybrida ‘Honorine Jobert’ (windflower)
2015 Geranium ‘Biokova’ (dwarf cranesbill, hardy geranium)
2014 Panicum virgatum ‘Northwind’ (tall switch grass)
2013 Polygonatum odoratum var. variegatum (Solomon’s seal)
2012 Brunnera macrophylla ‘Jack Frost’ (Siberian bugloss)
2011 Amsonia hubrichtii (blue star)
2010 Baptisia australis (blue false indigo)
2009 Hakonechloa macra, ‘Aureola’ (Japanese forest grass)
2008 Geranium ‘Rozanne’ (cranesbill, hardy geranium)
2007 Nepeta racemosa ‘Walker’s Low’ (catmint)
2006 Dianthus ‘Firewitch’ (cheddar pink)
2005 Helleborus x hybridus (Lenten rose)
2004 Athyrium niponicum var. pictum (Japanese painted fern)
2003 Leucanthemum x superbum ‘Becky’ (shasta daisy)
2002 Phlox paniculata ‘David’ (tall phlox)
2001 Calamagrostis x acutiflora ‘Karl Foerster’ (feather reed grass)
2000 Scabiosa ‘Butterfly Blue’ (pincushion flower)
1999 Rudbeckia fulgida var. sullivantii ‘Goldsturm’ (black-eyed Susan)
1998 Echinacea purpurea ‘Magnus’ (purple coneflower)
1997 Salvia x sylvestris ‘Mainacht’ (aka ‘May Night’) (wood sage)
1996 Penstemon digitalis ‘Husker’s Red’ (beardtongue)
1995 Perovskia atriplicifolia (Russian sage)
1994 Astilbe ‘Sprite’ (dwarf astilbe)
1993 Veronica ‘Sunny Border Blue’ (speedwell)
1992 Coreopsis verticillata ‘Moonbeam’ (threadleaf coreopsis)
1991 Heuchera micrantha var. diversifolia ‘Palace Purple’ (coral bells)
1990 Phlox stolonifera (creeping phlox)

Bumblebees LOVE the purple, bottlebrush flowers. Early in the morning, I find several fat bumblebees who have fallen asleep which visiting the flowers.

This trio of Stachys monieri ‘Hummelo’ sits next to a deck. The purple flowers have strong stems and the bright green foliage brightens the area.

Stinkhorn Mushrooms Live Up to the Name

A crowd gathered in the garden of a friend recently. I assumed they were admiring a new plant, so I hustled over to share in the appreciation. But no, this was no new perennial. Emerging from the mulch was a group of orange finger-like growths wearing dark brown caps. Their slightly naughty appearance spurred a lot of jokes. When I bent down to take a closer look, the nasty odor caught me by surprise. My brain churned a minute until I was able to dredge up its proper identity: Stinkhorn Mushroom. There are several forms of the stinkhorn fungus, ranging from rounded to those in front of my group, shaped like something you would see for sale in the classified section of an adult magazine. Common names for stinkhorn mushroom include Devil’s Dipstick (my favorite), Demon Fingers, and Dog Stinkhorn.

Stinkhorn mushrooms grow on rotting wood – decaying stumps or mulch, for instance. They can be found across the US, usually after a period of damp weather, The dark cap on top of the horn is a slimy mass of reproductive spores. This is where the “stink” in stinkhorn arises. The smell is described as sewage-like or compared to rotting meat. Unlike a normal fungus whose spores are spread by wind, the stinkhorn’s brownish cap atop the pinkish-orange horn contains a gooey collection of spores. These spores hitch a ride on insects who spread them about. The stench helps lure pollinators (those with a warped sense of smell, I assume) such as flies, ants, beetles, or bees. Insects who consume this odd mushroom then excrete the spores to begin a new generation.

Despite their evil appearance, stinkhorns are not poisonous and they do not transmit diseases to plants. If they appear in your garden, please leave them alone. They should not be treated with antifungals or herbicides. They are excellent decomposers. They only feed on dead plant tissue, so do not pose any threat to live, healthy plants. Stinkhorns are short-lived and offer amusement to garden visitors. Just don’t stand down wind.

These stinkhorns made a surprise appearance in a friend’s garden, just in time for a garden club meeting.

Blue-Eyed Grass as Feature or Edger

While weeding in a community garden last week, I encountered a plant I had written about several years ago, Blue-Eyed Grass. I have not grown it in my home garden. One of its common names is Bermuda Blue-Eyed Grass. After battling common Bermuda (aka wiregrass) in my lawn and flower beds, I was not about to introduce any plant that shared the name or other characteristics. I’ve been keeping a watchful eye on the specimens in the community garden for two years now, and they appear to be well-mannered. While diminutive in size, their impact is powerful. It’s time to reconsider my initial wariness.

Blue-Eyed Grass is Sisyrinchium angustifolium, pronounced sis-ee-RINK-ee-um an-gus-tee-FOH-lee-um. The species name has changed several times, but the genus Sisyrinchium remains consistent. Blue-Eyed Grass is a semi-evergreen, clump-forming native found across most of the eastern half of the country, in zones 4-9. Plants are undemanding. They grow in any texture soil and partial shade to full sun, preferring a consistently moist soil and average fertility. Rich soil or too much fertilizer results in lush leaf growth and few flowers. Keep mulch away from the base of the plant to avoid root rot.

They can be used singly as a specimen or as an edging. When flowering is complete, trim the spent heads to prevent unwanted spread. Blue-Eyed Grass looks at home in rock gardens, cottage gardens, woodland gardens, and sloped gardens. Bees and butterflies love their pollen and nectar, so they work well in pollinator gardens as well.

Mature clumps of Blue-Eyed Grass can reach up to 16 inches, although 12 inches is more common. The blue flowers appear in spring and summer, and are held above the foliage. Like other members of the Iris family, clumps should be divided every year or two to keep them looking healthy. The cultivar ‘Lucerne’ has larger flowers than unnamed varieties.

Sisyrinchium angustifolium, Blue-Eyed Grass, used as a specimen in a community pocket park.

Two Insects: One Harmful, One Valuable

I have never been afraid of insects (except for cockroaches, and “Palmetto Bugs” gross me out) until I had an unpleasant encounter while weeding last week. I was pulling small weeds around some shrubs and perennials, when a sudden, searing pain shot through my wrist. I drew back, expecting to see my attacker. Nothing obvious. I used the handle of my loppers to part the Iris foliage near the scene of the crime, and spotted a sporty-looking caterpillar – lime green with a tan and white splotch in the middle. It did not take much research to learn that I had encountered a saddleback caterpillar. Every website advised “avoid contact.”

Saddlebacks are adorned with poison-filled spines. I normally have a limited reaction to bites and stings but within two minutes, my fingers had swelled so much that I could not remove my wedding ring. By the time I reached the house, my entire forearm had doubled in size and was an angry red. Thanks to Google, I knew the treatment to follow, which I will share with you. I washed with soap and water, then used a piece of duck tape to pull out the spines. Next step was to ice the area and swallow a couple of Benadryl.

A closeup view of the poison-filled saddleback spines.

It is easy to overlook a Saddleback. They are only an inch long.

After the pain and swelling subsided (two hours), I went on a reconnaissance mission, intent on sending my attacker to caterpillar heaven. I spotted it, reached in with my clippers, and immediately brushed another one with the other arm. Repeated steps in paragraph two. Another two hours later, I donned heavy leather rose-handler gloves that extend up to my elbows, and revisited the doomed creatures. A careful examination revealed eleven of these evil beings on one Iris ensata. After recycling them, I checked all surrounding plants and found no more.

Saddleback caterpillars, Acharia stimulea, are native and found across the southeast. The caterpillars dine on a wide variety of plant materials, but are usually found in such small numbers that their damage is insignificant. The caterpillar spins itself a silken cocoon for winter before emerging in spring as a fuzzy brown moth with white spots. The mature moth has no trace of the lime green coloration which makes the caterpillar so distinctive. The moths are harmless to people.

Thus chastened by Mother Nature, I took a wide berth to the bees that chose to collect inside my new screen porch. The doors have not been installed yet, and these large black and yellow winged visitors could find their way inside the screen enclosure but could not find their way outside. They are scary-looking. I was surprised to learn that these were not some variety of Killer Hornets but instead harmless (non-stinging, non-biting) Hoverflies (family Syrphidae). The construction workers onsite told me that a common name is Broadcast Bee because they buzz loudly, “broadcasting their presence,” while they hover around humans’ heads as if to say, “Hey, look at me!”

There are thousands of Hoverfly species, of various sizes. Hoverflies have short, stubby antenna and a large set of wings for flying. The second set of wings is tiny, and are used for balance rather than propulsion. If you watch them carefully, you will see that hoverflies really do hang in the air with no apparent destination, while bees and wasps have an obvious direction to their flights. Hoverfly larvae look like the typical fly maggot, but their favorite meal is APHIDS! They are good pollinators, too. It is uncanny how much they look like something that would cause harm. You can encourage Hoverflies by planting nectar-rich, small flowers like Alyssum.

Asiatic Dayflower, a Beautiful Invader

There is an old-fashioned saying, “Pretty is as pretty does.” This is a cryptic way for mothers to tell their headstrong daughters that nice behavior makes them more attractive. The corollary is that a pretty girl with a nasty disposition is not attractive. Asiatic dayflower, Commelina communis, has a beautiful bloom but if an unsuspecting gardener allows just one to remain, plants soon appear everywhere. I repeat, everywhere.

Asiatic dayflower has two blue petals, one smaller white or light blue petal, and yellow stamens. Each flower lasts only one day. The stems are weak and floppy, but the flowers rise above them, to heights of around two feet. Plants are perennial in zones 5-8. They prefer moist soil and partial shade, but will grow in many other situations. It typically crops up along the edges of woodlands. In my garden, it likes to appear stealthily under the edges of tall, Southern Indica azaleas but the striking blue flowers reveal its hiding place.

This non-native wildflower is listed as invasive in several states. Plants are resistant to herbicides. Removal is best done by hand pulling after a rain, when soil is damp. In dry soil, the brittle stems break off and plants return quickly. Also, don’t pull them and toss them aside to die. The stems will throw roots from every leaf node and soon there will be a community, laughing (I assume) at efforts to eradicate. The flowers produce numerous seeds with a high germination rate.

This sneaky fella has concealed himself in the foliage of an Azalea.

Crinum Lily - Bold Flowers, Long-lived Bulbs

If your taste leans toward bold flowers, grow Crinum, a summer-flowering cousin to the Amaryllis. A southern passalong plant, these flowers are seen frequently on gravesites in the Bahamas. Bulbs are hardy in zones 7b to 10, at least. Flowers are white, pink, rose, or striped. White flowers with red stripes are commonly referred to as Milk and Wine lilies.

Mature plants will reach heights up to four feet. Bulbs are best planted in warm months, April through October, rather than fall or winter. They prefer full sun to part sun and moist soil, but will succeed in a wide range of conditions. Established plants will tolerate limited drought. They are not picky about soil texture or acidity.

When grown in moist, fertile soil Crinum bulbs can become quite large – occasionally up to twenty pounds! When bulbs need division, it is best to lift the entire clump, then separate offsets from the mother plant. Either replant or share the offsets. Newly divided bulbs may take a year or two to settle in and flower. The sturdy stems make good cut flowers. The flowers have a pleasant, clean fragrance.

As an initial investment, Crinum bulbs are more expensive than many other bulbs, but a single investment will provide years and years of enjoyment. Given their willingness to procreate, they are a cost-effective purchase.

 Bulbs are toxic to humans and pets. Deer do not bother them.

This Crinum was a gift from a regular customer at the nursery where I once worked. In a few years, it had multiplied into a large, handsome colony.

I planted these in a full-sun area with rich soil, in an area where the condensation from our air conditioner kept the soil moist. They grew to be giants. The largest was a little bigger than a softball but not quite as large a soccer ball. And it was HEAVY.

This beauty protested against her relocation by refusing to bloom for two years. This year, the gorgeous color and sweet fragrance made it worth the wait.

Winter Daphne for Cool Weather Fragrance

The rest of the US is facing a wave of frigid weather, but in the deep south, warm temperatures have brought gardeners outdoors, where we are enjoying the scents and sights of Forsythia and all the sprig-flowering bulbs. The sweet scent of Daphne wafts over it all.

Daphne odora (pronounced DAF-nee oh-DOH-rah) or Winter Daphne is an evergreen shrub that grows to heights up to six feet in zones 7-9. In late winter, its rose and white flowers have a heavenly fragrance that makes gardeners forgive its propensity to die suddenly, without warning (known as the “Daphne Death Dance” among gardeners who have loved and lost it). Plant it in partial shade in moist, neutral pH soil that is very well drained and has plenty of organic matter. It lives longest when sited on a slope that ensures good drainage. It also does well in a container if sited in a protected area. ‘Aureo-marginata’ is a variegated form. Prune leggy plants after flowering is complete to keep them compact and attractive.

All parts of the plant are poisonous to humans

Daphne odora in bloom. Special thanks for this image to shell_ghostcage via Pixabay photosharing.

Ajuga

Few perennials look great through the entire year. In the Mary Snoddy garden, a patch of Ajuga (pronounced ah-JOO-gah) has survived all manner of abuse: being trampled underfoot during our home renovation, record-breaking rain, record-breaking cold, full sun in what used to be full shade, and general disrespect. It does not look great, but I marvel at the fact it survived at all. We have had two days of warm sun, and it is pushing out fresh new leaves.

Ajuga reptans is an easily grown, aggressive, short groundcover. It is available in shades of bright chartreuse, deepest burgundy or chocolate, and a lovely sage green, white, rose combination. Textures vary from fine blades (‘Chocolate Chip’) or broad leaf (‘Black Scallop’). Newer cultivars broaden color choices to bronze, yellow, orange, and red. Look for the Feathered Friends™ series for something truly unusual.

Ajugas thrive in partial sun or shade. Blue flowers in spring are a bonus. These undemanding groundcovers spread quickly, giving rise to some gardeners’ assessment of the plant as invasive. (It is a member of the mint family). It will grow and even thrive in many situations where other plants, including grass, won’t grow: deep shade, dry soil, or under Black Walnut trees. It will tolerate minor foot traffic. Plants can be so vigorous that congested areas die. Prevent this by division. Ajuga is resistant to damage from deer and rabbits. Other than dieback from congestions, their only problem is root-rot when placed in wet soils.

Ajuga reptans ‘Burgundy Glow’ has a lovely pink and white variegation that lights up daker areas in the shade garden.

Fine leaf Ajuga reptans ‘Chocolate Chip’ softens the edges of a brick walkway.

These Snowflakes are Not Meant for Snowmen

Leucojum (pronounced loo-KOH-jum) is an elegant flower with delicate, drooping white blooms that look like petticoats. Spring Snowflake (L. vernum) flowers in very early spring. Summer Snowflake (L. aestivum) flowers mid-spring. Each tepal (think petal) has a blotch of green on it on its tip. Strap-like foliage resembles that of daffodils and averages 12 to 24 inches in length.

Snowflakes do well in part shade to full shade, and perform well under deciduous trees. They prefers dry soil when dormant, with added moisture when in flower. They are tolerant of heavy clay soils. The flowers are all held on the same side of the stem, so they lean gracefully to the side. They have the same gelatinous sap as daffodils, so should not be combined with other flowers in a vase.

Snowflakes look super when planted in large drifts, in woodland settings, or in rock gardens. Bulbs will multiply into good sized clumps. They prefer to remain undisturbed. Congestion doesn’t seem to bother them as long as they receive adequate nutrition from the soil. Add a sprinkle of lime and a little fertilizer each spring to keep them happy. The bulbs can be underplanted in a bed of Mondo Grass (Ophiopogon) or other shade-loving groundcovers.

Deer, rabbits, and voles avoid Snowflakes. They are not damaged by juglone, so can be planted under Black Walnut (Juglans nigra) trees. Bulbs and leaves are poisonous. Do not eat.

A third species, Leucojum auctumnle flowers in late summer to early fall. It is less popular that the spring-flowering types and is difficult to find in garden centers.

Plan Now for Fall Crocus & Colchichum

I was thrilled to see the first evidence of Crocus foliage pushing their way out of the frozen soil today. Crocus is the earliest bulb (corm, really) to flower in the Mary Snoddy garden, usually in February. At times they are frosted by ice or snow, which doesn’t seem to dampen their cheerful demeanor one bit.

As much as I enjoy these harbingers of spring, I prefer the Crocus that flower in October and November. You will notice that I did not say “Fall-flowering Crocus” or “Autumn Crocus.” There is a good reason why. There are two different flowers which bloom at the same time and look very similar to the unpracticed eye. One produces saffron threads, a culinary delight. The other can kill you if you eat any part of it. Seriously.

Fall-flowering Crocus, Crocus sativus, pronounced CROW-cuss suh-TAI-vuss, is also known as Saffron Crocus. It is grown for saffron spice, as noted above, but the orange-red stigmas are also used for dye. They will stain fingers and clothing. This plant sends up narrow, grass-like foliage before the flowers appear. Plants are small, usually reaching about six inches when they are in flower. C. sativus is cold-hardy in zones 5-8. They prefer a neutral to slightly alkaline soil in full sun. They are occasionally damaged by voles or rabbits.

Saffron Crocus

Saffron Threads

Autumn Crocus is Colchicum autumnale, pronounced COAL-chik-um aw-tum-NAH-lay. It is taller (eight to ten inches) and its blooms are larger than C. sativus. It appears as a naked bloom, with no foliage at the time of flowering. Weak foliage appears in spring. It is more cold-tolerant (zones 4-10) than C. sativus, will tolerate a wider range of pH, and will withstand a bit more shade. The large pink or purple flowers look fantastic when they appear above a short groundcover like dwarf mondo grass, which also helps support the weak stems. All parts of the plant are highly toxic to people and pets. Deer and rabbits will not touch them.

Colchicum

Leafless Autumn Crocus

Tiny C. sativus is planted 2-3 inches deep. Larger C. autumnale is planted 4-6 inches deep. Both these corms are small and flat, and look best when planted in groups or drifts. They will naturalize when planted in the lawn. Pollinators are attracted to the flowers.

Mushroom Brains

I found a brain while I was walking through my woodlands this week. At least I thought it was a brain. Or a pile of cooked egg noodles, which seemed just as unlikely as a brain, since civilization is at least a half mile away in all directions. Research indicated that it was a natural growth in the genus Sparassis, an edible fungus known as cauliflower mushroom. The very helpful www.MushroomExpert.com provided a key on how to distinguish the various species, but also described a “look-alike” species, Podoscypha aculeata.

My particular specimens (I found another nearby) are Sparassis americana. A fairly rare fungus, it sprouts from the roots of pine trees, not trunks, and is an indicator of brown root rot below the surface. This means I need to keep an eye on the host trees, and will have them removed when declining health warrants.

Www.Foragerchef.com describes the cauliflower mushroom as “one of the most delicious wild mushrooms you can hunt…a choice edible species.” The authors give specific instructions on cleaning (cumbersome process with lots of references to hidden insect larvae) and several recipes, ranging from soups to cauliflower “steaks.”

In the interest of science and from innate curiosity, I made a personal sacrifice for the collective benefit of my readers. As a result, I can tell you that there are marked differences in definitions of “delicious.” Edible, yes, but not something I would praise as a delicacy.

If you decide to forage for these or any other wild mushrooms, please be certain of the identity before you consume them. Several common mushrooms have deadly look-alikes.

Cauliflower mushroom looks like a pile of cooked, curly egg noodles.

The angle of this photo is deceptive. The fungus is larger than a softball.

Muhly Grass for Autumn Color

Autumn colors are orange, red, yellow, rust…and pink? Across the southeast, Pink Muhly Grass (Muhlenbergia capillaris, pronounced mew-len-BERG-ee-ah or mew-len-BER-jee-uh) is reaching its peak. We do not usually think of grass as a flowering plant, but there is no mistaking the decorative value of pink Muhly. Its feathery plumes float like clouds of pink cotton candy. A white-flowered form is available also but is harder to find than the pink variety. White varieties bloom a little later than pink forms.

 Mulhy is easy to grow in full sun, zones 6-9. Native to North America, it will grow in sandy, rocky, or clay soil. Avoid constantly wet soils. It is not troubled by insects or diseases, and is highly resistant to deer damage. Plants grow up to four feet tall and  three feet wide. Established plants are heat and drought tolerant. The narrow leaves sway gracefully in breezes. Flowering begins in autumn and is followed by attractive seed heads that persist through winter, providing food for birds. The purplish-pink form ages to a creamy tan color and the white form ages to an attractive gray.

 A standalone plant is attractive, but mass plantings of Muhly are gorgeous. Two pairings that are particularly attractive: Pink Muhly with purple-leaf Loropetalum,  or White Muhly paired with purple-flowered Mexican Salvia (Salvia leucanthemum).

 Plants may need to be divided every three years or so to avoid dieback in the centers. Give clumps a cleanup cut in late winter or early spring, before new growth starts, but do not cut so short that the crown is damaged. While some other grasses may become invasive, Muhly is well behaved and makes a perfect addition to the low maintenance garden.

Pink Muhly Grass used as an edging

Blooms look like cotton candy

The Chelsea Chop

What is “The Chelsea Chop,” a term I hear from professional garden-tenders? In simple terms, it is a mid-season cutback for flowering perennial plants. It earned its catchy moniker in the UK, where border plants are pruned hard around the same time as London’s famous Chelsea Flower Show (May).

American weather, soil type, and growing season differs from lands across the pond, but a mid-summer cutback is a great idea for many plants, including Yarrow (Achillea), Coneflowers (Echinacea), Artemisia, Catnip (Nepeta), Bee Balm (Monarda), Salvia, and Gaura. If a perennial blooms well during spring and fall but takes a flowering siesta in the hottest part of the summer, it may be a good candidate for the chop. Pruned perennials will often branch and produce new buds and leaves, with a rounded, tidy appearance. Annual flowers do not respond as well as perennials. I applied the Chelsea Chop to annual Spider Flower (Cleome) last year and was left with a bed of headless stems that neither branched nor rebloomed.

When orange Butterfly Weed (Asclepias tuberosa) sheds its flowers, a cutback by half will often spur a second bloom that rivals the first, and new foliage looks fresher than older, tattered leaves and stems. Butterfly larvae seem to prefer the tender new stems over tougher, aged ones.

When pruned in mid-June (upper SC area), fall-flowering Aster, Joe Pye Weed, Chrysanthemum, and NY Ironweed (Vernonia) will bloom about two weeks later than unpruned plants and will have smaller but more numerous flowers. Pinching out the growing tips of tall Sedums (“Autumn Joy” and the like) will cause branching and prevent their tendency to fall open at their centers during peak fall bloom time. With few exceptions, I halt serious perennial surgical reductions on July 4. Later pruning may remove flower buds or cause a growth spurt of tender growth that will later be damaged by early cold spells.

An exception to this timing recommendation is my treatment of Daylily (Hemerocallis). These reliable bulbs flower during the hottest part of the year. When the flower show is over, the foliage starts to brown and dry into an unattractive, stringy blob. I do not have the time to remove each brown leaf individually, so once all flowers have faded, I gather the foliage of each clump and decapitate it, leaving four to six inches. Then, I give the buzz-cut plants a drink of liquid fertilizer. While they will not repeat flowering, they will push out new, bright green foliage that looks good all the way into fall. This approach does not seem to weaken the plant or reduce flowering in future years.

Rather than performing a wholesale chop-chop-chop on everything, I follow advice I read years ago in a wonderful book, The Well-Tended Perennial Garden: The Essential Guide to Planting and Pruning Techniques by Tracey DiSabato-Aust (Published by Timber Press in 2017, also available in Kindle version). I cut back half the plant in June and leave the other half to flower on its original schedule. Sometimes I prune the perimeter of the plant and leave the center untouched, and sometimes (when I’m feeling especially patient) I select every other stem in the overall bunch to reduce. When the latter approach is done carefully, an observer does not notice any pruning has been done. See the accompanying before and after photos of Shasta Daisy ‘Becky’ for an example. The removal of roughly one third of the bloom stems is unnoticeable. If the half-chop method is used, remove spent flowers from the early flowering, unpruned stems or the plant may put its energy into seed-making and not produce a second round of blooms. 

As tempting as it is to use a hedge-trimmer for a quick pruning job, the best results come from pruning individual stems back with hand pruners, cutting just above where a leaf joins the stem. The prune-to-a-leaf method eliminates naked stem orphans that will darken and wither, and may offer an opportunity for disease entry.

All plants look better when dead flowers are removed. But please, remove the entire stem down to the first leaf or even shorter. Do not snap the flowers off and leave headless stems. That’s just creepy.

Shasta Daisy before Chop

Shasta Daisy after Chop