Pachysandra as Evergreen Groundcover

One of my former neighbors persisted in trying to grow Pachysandra as a groundcover under his oak trees. Tray after tray of plugs arrived and were planted in spring, only to die by fall. He finally relinquished his preferred plan and planted variegated Bishop’s Weed (Aegopodium podagraria) instead. Also called Goutweed, Snow On The Mountain, or Ground Elder, Bishop’s Weed is an aggressive, invasive groundcover that is difficult to eradicate once established. I suggest you avoid it.  Given the neighbor’s difficulty in growing Pachysandra, imagine my surprise last year when I stumbled across a large (forty feet by seventy feet) patch of it growing on a woodland bank near my creek. In May, it looked like a large emerald blanket, and even draped over the creek bank like a curtain. This week, it shows the ravages of extreme cold and too much rain, but it is still an effective groundcover. I have no doubt that it will return to its former glory when temperatures warm in spring.

 There are two species of Pachysandra. Allegheny Spurge (Pachysandra procumbens, pronounced pak-ih-SAN-drah pro-KUM-benz) is native to the southeast. It is evergreen to semi-evergreen, and cold hardy in zones 7-8. It grows in rich, moist, acidic soil, in dappled shade to full shade. It is not invasive. This is the variety that is living happily in my woodlands. It averages nine inches tall and has not been browsed by deer, despite heavy populations in this area.

 Like other plants we have adopted from the Land of the Rising Sun, Japanese Pachysandra (Pachysandra terminalis, pronounced pak-ih-SAN-drah ter-min-AL-iss) tolerates a wide range of temperatures (zones 5b-9a) and is a more aggressive grower than the native type. It may grow up to a foot tall but is typically shorter, and spreads by underground rhizomes. ‘Green Sheen’ is especially heat tolerant. ‘Green Carpet’ is a mounded uniform form that lends itself to edging for shady beds.

 Both the above species bloom in spring, but the flowers are not particularly eye-catching. Bees love them. Pachysandra is in the same family as Boxwood and shares some of its susceptibility to scale, leaf spots, and root rot. Don’t overwater, and if dead or diseases patches become apparent, remove them before the problem spreads to the rest of the bed.

Big box stores usually sell Pachysandra in trays of 2-inch plugs. Tease them apart carefully to avoid damaging tender roots. Place plugs six inches apart for rapid coverage, or up to a foot apart. Even at the wider spacing, ground coverage should be complete in three years. when grown in moist shade and fertile soil. Be careful to avoid constantly wet soils.

Warm Yarrow to Brighten a Cold Day

The US is blanketed by cold weather this week. My Camellia japonica was covered with flowers. Now they are blackened and sad. I visited my photo files to find something to make me remember the warmth of summer, and ran across pictures of Yarrow.

Yellow Yarrow is a heat tolerant plant beloved by pollinators.

Achillea millefolium (ack-uh-LEE-ah mill-ee-FOH-lee-um), commonly known as Yarrow, is an easily grown, heat-tolerant perennial for full sun. It has finely divided grayish foliage. Almost leafless stems terminate in flat-topped clusters of many (20 to 25, on average) small blooms. The straight species can become weedy or invasive, but the hybrids sold in garden centers are mostly sterile. Flowers come in pastels, yellow, white, red, purple, and orange shades. Yellow is the most common color and it ages well. ‘Moonshine’ has lemon-yellow flowers.

Yarrow has a long bloom period, from summer to frost. Plants can be deadheaded to encourage more flowering. If they become messy or foliage begins to brown or look tattered, an aggressive cutback will spur new growth. Yarrow likes a neutral pH and well-drained soil. While easy to grow in loam or sand, clay soils should be amended with organic matter to increase drainage and avoid excessive moisture that may lead to root rot.

Yarrow is a great plant for pollinator gardens, xeric gardens, and evening gardens, where the gray foliage remains visible at dusk. It mixes and mingles well with other plants, and can be sprinkled among cottage garden beds as a see-through plant. Deer avoid them.

This photo was taken in mid-June of last year, in the botanical gardens of Spartanburg Community College. The fine flowers of pale yellow Yarrow pair nicely with the bold flowers of Rudbeckia and the red accent of Salvia. A gray Artemisia provides contrast, like a condiment adding spice to a bland meal.

China Fir Tree vs Monkey Puzzle Tree

This week when I emptied the buckets of leftover greenery I used for making Christmas arrangements, I was surprised to find that the China Fir (Cunninghamia lanceolata, pronounced kun-ing-HAM-ee-a lan-see-oh-LAY-ta) looked almost as fresh as it did when it was cut six weeks ago.

China Fir is a narrow, pyramidal tree reaching heights of 75 feet (50 feet is more common) and 10-30 feet wide. Native to China, they are cold hardy in zones 7-9. They enjoy damp soil and will even withstand occasional flooding, but are also heat and drought tolerant.

This tree is commonly confused with the Monkey Puzzle tree. China Fir leaves are narrow needles around two inches long that taper to a point, while the Monkey Puzzle (Araucaria araucana) leaves are more triangular, are as sharp as razor blades, and are held on the limbs and trunks as well as the stems. China Fir leaves are stiff so the needles can be scratchy, but an encounter with Monkey Puzzle will leave you bleeding like something from a Monty Python movie. I have tried without success to grow a Monkey Puzzle tree in upstate SC, even going so far as to have the long-suffering husband use his tractor to build a berm of soil and mix in Permatill to provide the sharp drainage it requires. I have spent thousands of dollars and countless hours babying the cursed things, all of which died. I refused to accept that one of these pricey trees died within weeks, and even spray painted its dead carcass green so I could pretend for several months. My last attempt was a container version. I have admitted defeat and will not try/invest again.

Evergreen China Fir, unlike the Monkey Puzzle, grows obligingly along my driveway and even in the parking lot islands of a nearby Dollar General. In full sun, the needles take on bronzy tones in winter. My specimen is in partial shade and it remains green year-round. The trunk bark shreds in long strips, revealing a reddish inner bark that is attractive. Seed pods look like tiny artichokes. It is normal for these trees to have a few interior limbs to die. Remove the browned limbs for the most attractive appearance.  I have found that trees sucker freely if their roots are disturbed, so use care to avoid damaging them.

The needles of China Fir are not held quite flat but not whorled either. They are flexible, scratchy but not painful to handle.

Monkey Puzzle leaves are stiff, razor sharp, and appear on the trunk as well as the limbs.

Identification by Elimination: Leucothoe

Most of the time, plant identification is pretty straight forward even for those of who were not trained in taxonomy. Sometimes, however, identification requires research. For the last three years, I have been enjoying the large, evergreen shrubs that appear along the creek banks of my home. They have lovely arching foliage, reddish new growth, and drooping clusters of white flowers in spring. Based on my knowledge as a former garden nursery employee, I thought they were Leucothoe, pronounced loo-KOH-thoh-ee. But which one? Are they Highland Doghobble, Leucothoe fontanesiana? Or Coastal Doghobble, Leucothoe axillaris? Or even Florida Leucothoe, now Agarista populifolia but formerly Leucothoe populfolia?

When I’m having difficulty with identification, I have learned to consult NC State University’s plant sheets and Clemson University’s Home & Garden Info fact sheets. The Georgia Native Plant Society, Virginia Native Plant Society, and the Southern Piedmont Natural History Facebook pages provide invaluable information. I cross reference everything I find online with the information contained in my favorite gardening book, Dirr’s Encyclopedia of Trees and Shrubs, by Michael A. Dirr. This is a fabulous resource and a must-have for everyone who aspires to be a serious gardener. There are so many post-it notes extending from my copy, it looks like a neon hedgehog.

First, I examined the common factors of the three possibilities. All are natives in the Ericaceae family, meaning they enjoy damp shade and acid soil like other ericaceous family members (blueberries, azaleas). The new growth on all three is a shiny pink-to-bronze color.  Then, I compared the differences in an attempt to identify by elimination.

First to go was Highland Doghobble or Mountain Doghobble. It has an average height of six feet, which kept it in the running. Comparing photos of their flowers to photos of my plants, I could not discern a difference. Both have creamy clusters of white flowers held in the stem axils. But NC State horticultural info says this plant grows in USDA cold hardiness zones 4-6. My property lies in zone 7b. (Zone 8 after the recently updated zone maps were released. I’m having trouble adapting.) Buh-bye.

Candidate number two is Coastal Doghobble. These grow in cold hardiness zones 5-9, but are described as slow growing with a mature height up to four feet. The cold weather foliage is bronze to burgundy. No, no, and no. Mine stay a nice rich green throughout the coldest months. I have cut them to ground level and they grow rapidly to six feet or more.

Which leaves Florida Leucothoe, Agarista populifolia. Hardiness zones 7-9 are a match, as is the mature size of 8-12 feet. New growth is coppery red but leave remain green through winter. The point of confusion for me is with the flowers. Those on my shrubs were a perfect match to the photographs on a couple of sites but not a visual match on other sites describing the same plant.  I am going to make an assumption that my garden is hosting Florida Leucothoe. Take a look at the photos below. If you disagree with my identification, feel free to drop me an email at mary@marysnoddy.com.

While you might assume that the outstanding characteristic of this plant is the lovely spring flowers or the evergreen foliage (works well in cut flower arrangements) or the ease of culture, the best thing is that deer won’t touch it. While the common name Doghobble was derived from its tendency to develop thickets so dense that dogs cannot run through them, it could have just as easily been Dogkill. While bees and butterflies love the flowers, the plant is extremely toxic to people, dogs, cats, and horses. Ingesting as few as two leaves can lead to coma and death. Deer avoid it, even when food sources are scarce.

Trials and Tribulations of Growing an Allée

I love the look of an allée – a row of the same kind of trees on both sides of a straight driveway, walkway, or pathway.  The trees function like a living wall, forcing one’s attention on the termination point: a fountain, a sculpture, a home’s main entrance. There are some famous examples of an allée (pronounced ah-LAY): Longwood Gardens in Pennsylvania, Hyde Park in London, Oak Alley Plantation in Louisiana, Hidcote Manor in Gloucestershire, Dallas Arboretum in Texas. These allées have been structured from a variety of trees: oak, elm, honey locust, olive, birch, linden, yew, dawn redwoods, hornbeams, laburnum, and others but each allée consists of only one tree choice rather than a mixture. Some of these have been pruned and trained to meet overhead, creating a solid tunnel. Very impressive, and very labor intensive.

One thing you may notice on the above plant list. These are large trees, requiring plenty of space. Many private homes have allées on a less grand scale. Years ago, I decided to create an allée along my front walkway. Space was limited, so I chose Compacta Holly (Ilex crenata ‘Compacta’) instead of a tree because I liked the dense, dark green leaves. From experience, I knew that hollies could be pruned into tight shapes and I thought they would be more forgiving than boxwoods. The label indicated a mature size of six feet tall and six feet wide. This seemed ideal. Because I am thrifty (read: cheap), I started with one-gallon shrubs, seven plants on either side of the walk. I measured carefully to space them precisely.

Not much happened during the first year, 2007. I watered, fertilized, and encouraged the newbies to perform. By year two, I was able to begin limited pruning, using hand clippers to remove only a tiny bit of the terminal growth to encourage branching. In that second year, I stepped up the watering and the fertilizing. The shrubs responded beautifully, and by year three I was pruning/shaping every six weeks, training them to tight conical shapes that my husband dubbed The Gumdrops. Because plants have a mind of their own, some were outpacing others. For each pruning session, I ran a temporary string from two wooden stakes on either end of the rows, just above the tops of the shrubs. This guide helped ensure that they would all have a consistent height after each pruning session.  By year eight, I moved from the hand pruners to electric hedge shears. I was able to forego the string and depend on visuals. By 2017, each gumdrop had reached a height of forty inches or so. They were dense and exactly the same size.

I was very happy with my junior allée. Then disaster struck. Two of the shrubs died suddenly, for unknown reasons. This left a gap in my lovely planting. There was nothing to do but replace the dead ones. To speed the appearance of a dense shrub, I jammed two small plants into each hole left empty by the unfortunate demise, and started a regular fertilization regimen for the replacements. I pruned all the others severely, hoping that the substitutions would not be so obviously undersized in a year or two. To compound the uneven appearance, I accidentally burned one of the healthy, full-size specimens to a crisp when I used a pressure washer to clean the front walk. Turns out, the exhaust from the gasoline-powered machine was fatally hot. The burned leaves shed, and I was left with a pyramid-shaped pile of charred branches and the need for another replacement. Sadly, when we sold the place, the new owners removed them all.

The gumdrop allée, third year.

The gumdrop allée after ten years.

Why am I sharing this tale of woe? To illustrate that a lengthy planting of any tree or shrub can be interrupted by the foibles of nature. Replacements will always look like replacements. A mixed border may be a better choice than similar plants lined up like soldiers in a parade.

If I choose to replicate the allée again, I have a new tree in mind. Columnar Sweet Gum, Liquidambar styraciflua ‘Slender Silhouette’ grows to fifty feet tall and only six feet wide. It has the same star-shaped leaves as its broader cousins but the narrow width makes it a great choice for narrow lots.

While it does produce a limited number of the maligned sticker balls (seed pods) after a few years, the columnar shape means they fall in a restricted space, allowing for an easy removal. Sweet Gums want full sun and acidic soil. They withstand heat and humidity and are drought tolerant. They are hardy in zones 5-9. Trees grow fast in moist soil, slower in dry soil. They support a wide range of wildlife: birds, pollinators, small mammals. They resist damage from deer or rabbits. Star-shaped leaves turn beautiful colors in autumn – red, yellow, burgundy, or orange.

‘Slender Silhouette’ Sweet Gum is tall and narrow. It performs well in heat and humidity. I consider it a potential alternative to Italian Cypress.

Identifying Pine Trees

Today’s guest blog is a special Christmas treat. The information was written by Dr. Jon Storm, who pens the popular Facebook Page, Southern Piedmont Natural History, and is reprinted with his permission. If you have ever wanted to identify a pine tree, read on. Don’t miss the tidbits accompanying each of the fabulous photos.

Across the Piedmont of the Carolinas and Georgia, the most common pine trees you will find are the loblolly, shortleaf, and Virginia pine. They can be distinguished by the length, shape, and bundling of their needles. Two other pines you might occasionally find are the longleaf and eastern white pine. All of them are native.

Eastern White Pine (Pinus strobus) has thin, flexible needles that are 3-5 inches long. There are 5 needles per bundle (fascicle). One way to remember this is that ‘white’ has 5 letters. The needles also have a bluish-green color relative to our other pines. Eastern White Pines are more common in the Blue Ridge, but you can occasionally find them in woodlands of the upper Piedmont.

Loblolly Pine (Pinus taeda) has dark green needles that come in bundles of 3. They are stiff and 6-9 inches long. This pine is abundant in the Piedmont and is often planted in pine plantations.

The name Longleaf Pine (Pinus palustris) speaks for itself. It’s much more common in the Coastal Plain, but you can occasionally find some, perhaps planted, in the Piedmont. Its needles also come in groups of 3, but they are 10-18 inches long! Historically, this was the dominant pine tree of the Coastal Plain. Longleaf Pine requires wildfires to germinate and not be outcompeted by other trees.

Shortleaf Pine (Pinus echinata) has needles in groups of 2 and occasionally 3. Needles are 2.5 - 5 inches long and straight. This tree grows across the Piedmont in dry, rocky woodlands and open fields.

Virginia Pine (Pinus virginiana) has 2 needles per bundle, with each needle being 1.5 - 3 inches long. Its distinguishing feature is that the needles twist. Virginia Pine has a scrubby appearance from the retention of its dead lower branches.

Pine cones are often used in wreaths and other Christmas decorations. But what are cones and what purpose do they serve to the tree? The cones you see in wreaths are the mature, seed-bearing female cones. In many pine trees, such as the Loblolly Pine (Pinus taeda) shown below, female cones develop over 2.5 years.

These are 1st year female (ovulate) cones developing near the end of a Loblolly Pine branch. They have soft scales and begin forming in winter and then start a rapid development once warmer spring temperatures and longer days arrive. These cones receive pollen from the male (staminate) cones in early spring. Female cones develop on the upper branches, while the male cones are on the lower branches. This helps ensure cross-pollination between trees and enhances the genetic diversity of offspring relative to self-pollination.

This is a 1st year female cone that I sectioned lengthwise with a scalpel. This cone was sectioned shortly after pollination in spring (you know, that time of April when everything seems covered in the yellow dust of pine pollen). Sticky pollination drops on the outside of female cones help pollen adhere. Notice the tiny pollen grains inside the female cone. Only the scales near the middle of the cone (the fertile scales) are capable of producing seeds. Believe it or not, the eggs in the female cone won’t be fertilized until late spring to early summer of the following year! During this first year, the female cones stay relatively small.

I cut lengthwise down this unopened 2nd year female cone with a coping saw to show the developing seeds. This is a late-summer female cone that would have opened up in late autumn and likely then released its seeds in early winter.

You may have seen pine nuts in the grocery store. These are generally the seeds from one of the Pinyon pine species native to the southwestern US or another species in Europe or Asia. Cutting this loblolly cone open gave me some appreciation for the hard work squirrels do to harvest the seeds!

Mature female Loblolly Pine cone. Each scale (bract) has 2 seeds develop of its top surface. If you look on top of a scale, you can sometimes see some seeds or a light discoloration where the 2 seeds used to reside. Loblolly Pine female cones have a sharp spine on the end of each scale. Most trees drop these cones shortly after the seeds fall out.

This branch has two new, green female cones near the end of the new shoot. These soft cones will receive pollen in spring.

Below them, there are 2 female cones that were pollinated the previous spring. These cones are typically around 1 inch long and will have their eggs fertilized in late spring to early summer. These cones will start to grow rapidly during the spring and summer.

Below them, are 3 nearly mature female cones. These would typically have opened up and dropped their seeds in the winter. Many factors, such as temperature, precipitation, insect damage, and the genetics of the variety (much of the loblolly pine you see was planted) can influence cone and seed production.

Seeds removed from a mature female cone. Here in the Piedmont, cones typically mature in late fall and then seeds are dropped around early winter. Seed production is often highly variable between years and the particular clone planted in an area (much of the loblolly pine you see in woodlands and yards was planted).

Dr. Storm and his students put together a must-have book for naturalists in the NC/SC area, Field Guide to the Southern Piedmont. It is a free download. (Click HERE).

Merry Christmas, friends. I hope Santa brings you a nice, sharp pair of pruners!

The Mystery of the Missing Holly Berries

I hate it when I answer a gardening inquiry and then later learn that my answer was only partially correct. Yet, that is what happened this week when a friend asked why her holly (Ilex genus) that normally has plenty of berries is berry-free this year. I will spare you the repetition of my half-wrong answer and offer up correct information. (I noticed today that one of my hollies that usually drips with berries is completely bare. Another, a few feet away, is heavy with fruit.)

Hollies are mostly dioecious, meaning that some plants are male and others are female. The females produce fruit only if there is a male in the vicinity so that cross-pollination can take place. There are a few that are self-fruitful, meaning they produce berries without a pollinating partner.  Ilex x ‘Nellie Stevens’ and Ilex cornuta ‘Burfordii’ are two self-fruitful varieties with plenty of berries. Even with a opposite-sex partner, hollies sometimes produce little or no fruit in a given year. This can be attributed to several possible reasons: (1) A juvenile plant. Seed-grown plants may need five years or more before they start fruiting. Plants grown from cuttings usually fruit within two years. (2) A late frost which damaged the blooms. (3) Poor pollination, even on a self-fruitful plant. Bad weather during flowering season can reduce bee activity. (4) Too much nitrogen in the soil, usually as a byproduct of applying heavy fertilizer to a lawn. (5) Missed connections. If males and females bloom at separate times, pollination may be reduced. I see this most often in winterberry holly (Ilex verticillata). Winterberry’s bright red fruits look stunning against their leafless branches in winter. Not all males bloom at the same time as the females. Check labels for a recommended pairing. It does no good to pair an early-flowering male with a late-flowering female, even within the same species. Heavy rainfall during the pollination window can have the same effect.

There are multiple species within the Ilex (pronounced EYE-leks) genus. American holly, Ilex opaca, is the one we think of as the traditional Christmas holly. It has sharp spines on the leaves and bright red berries. Don’t make the mistake of planting one where it will outgrow the available space. American holly can get up to fifty feet tall. Chinese holly or horned holly, Ilex cornuta, also has spiny leaves and red berries. Chinese holly cultivar ‘Burfordii” is popular because it does not need a pollinator to produce plentiful berries. While it is not as large as the American holly, it is still up to twenty-five feet tall at maturity. Don’t be misled by the description of “dwarf Burfordii.” A dwarf giant is still a large plant – up to ten feet.

Japanese holly, Ilex crenata, has small leaves with smooth edges and is often used in hedges as an alternative to boxwood (Buxus). They have black fruit. Inkberry holly, Ilex glabra, has longer leaves than I. crenata, with smooth leaf edges and black fruit. It is also used as a boxwood substitute.

My two favorite hollies are ‘Nellie R. Stevens’ and ‘Liberty.’ ‘Nellie R. Stevens’ is a heat tolerant hybrid that will produce berries without a partner, although fruiting will be heavier with a pollinator nearby. It can grow to thirty feet tall and less than half that wide, a slender garden feature. Most leaves have three points per side, like the holly leaf we learned to draw as children. It prefers a little more shade than other hollies. ‘Liberty’ holly is a hybrid that is pyramid-shaped, like the Liberty Bell. The dark green leaves have up to twenty pairs of small points. Given full sun, it will be dense and produce plentiful berries. In more shade, the plant becomes looser and has fewer berries. It can grow up to fifteen feet tall. The lower limbs can be removed to make it more tree-like and less shrub-like.

Cultural needs vary between the species, but almost all like well-drained, moist, slightly acidic soil in full sun to mostly sun. Winterberry holly is the exception to the well-drained soil requirement. It prefers wet soils, but will survive in dryer ground.

Fall planting is preferred for all species. Bees love tiny holly flowers, so shrubs are best planted away from walkways so they will not be brushed by visitors. Where space allows, the taller types make a fantastic evergreen privacy hedge and windbreak. Hollies are cold hardy in zones 7-9, at minimum.

The leathery leaves of this holly contrast with bright red berries.

‘Liberty’ holly leaves have many small points on each leaf edge.

Woolly Worm Weather Forecast

Why do we think that the colors of a woolly caterpillar (the larval stage of Pyrrharctia Isabella, the Isabella tiger moth) can predict the severity of a coming winter? It started back in 1948, when Dr. Howard Curren, the curator of insects at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City, collected a sample of these black and brown caterpillars from Bear Mountain, NY and put forth the theory that large amounts of brown predicted a mild winter. The following winter WAS mild in NY, and Dr. Curren’s research was published in the New York Herald Tribune. It became accepted among the general public, despite the fact that (1) the sample size was tiny, (2) the location was extremely limited, and (3) he was not able to replicate an accurate prediction despite repeating it for the following eight years. Skeptical people (me) will put as much trust in the woolly worm as weatherman as we do in Punxsutawney Phil.

The woolly worm’s body consists of 13 segments, which are postulated to correspond to the 13 weeks of winter. They are black at either end, with a midsection of orangish brown. Legend says a black band predicts a week of below average temperatures, a brown band predicts average temps, and a light brown band indicates above average temperatures. More scientific minds say that the colors are a reflection of the age of the caterpillar and perhaps the temperatures during its development.

The Isabella tiger moth lays her eggs on the broad-leaf plantain, a weed found in many lawns. The hatchlings feed on the plantain’s leaves. They mature in summer. We usually take note of them in fall as they are waddling about, looking for a safe leaf pile as a winter haven. Woolly worms can withstand extreme cold winter temperatures without physical damage. In spring, they emerge from their winter homes and spin a cocoon about themselves. After two weeks or so in this silken cocoon, they emerge as winged adults and start looking for dandelion, nettle, or plantain to eat and as a place to lay eggs for the next generation. There is a marvelous YouTube video showing the spinning of the cocoon. View it by clicking here.

Banner Elk, North Carolina hosts a Woolly Worm Festival each year. The festival has been held for 46 years. For 2023, there were 1,400 worm contestants with owners from 21 states and six countries. There are 25 heat races, then semifinals, with a grand finale race between the semifinal winners. I can scarcely describe the enthusiasm among the crowd as we watch the contestants (adults and children) cuddle their worms, softly blowing warm air on them to keep them comfortable during the crisp October temperatures of the festival. Excitement builds as the worms are placed on their racing strings and encouraged to scramble to the top at a rapid clip. Children are just as likely to win as adults. The 2023 winner worm was picked up in a parking lot just prior to the beginning of the race.

My favorite part of the festival is hearing contestant names. Yes, each worm is named by its owner/sponsor. My favorites: Wormzilla, MerryWeather, Patsy Climb, Dale Wormhardt, and Taylor Swiftworm. Winner of the Banner Elk contest for 2023 was a worm named Jeffrey; for 2022, Porta Potty took the $1,000 prize.

It’s all good fun. Just don’t rely too heavily on their seasonal predictions.

A gloriously woolly worm. Photo by Sheila Sund. Used under cc-by-2.0 license.

A mature Isabella tiger moth. Photo by Andy Reago and Chrissy McLarren. Used under cc-by-2.0 license.

The Other Red Berry

Holiday decorating is in full swing. Whether fake or natural, colorful berries accent seasonal arrangements. I lean towards natural materials instead of the intensely colored clusters of Styrofoam berries found in almost every store. The powdery blue berries of cedar contrast beautifully against fragrant, feathery-looking foliage. Alas, those berries shed rapidly once indoors and the fluffy foliage turns stiff and prickly. Decorators who want natural red berries usually reach for Nandina or Holly. If you are lucky, a few seedpods from Magnolia grandiflora may still hold onto their decorative red seeds. Another option is Pyracantha coccinea (pronounced pi-ra-KANTHa kok-SIN-ee-a).

Pyracantha, also known as Scarlet Firethorn, is a semi-evergreen member of the Rosaceae (rose) family. While not a native, Pyracantha has spread across the southeast. Birds have scattered seeds everywhere, and it is not unusual to spot specimens flourishing along roadsides in ungroomed areas. This shrub will thrive in sun or part shade, acidic or neutral soil, in zones 6-9. Plants are resistant to heat and drought.

The berries are red, orange-red, or yellow, depending upon variety. Most are a reddish orange. Mature plants can reach arching mounds up to 15 feet tall. Cultivars ‘Red Elf’ and ‘Tiny Tim’ mature at a compact three feet and have red berries. ‘Apache’ and ‘Red Cushion’ have red berries and are resistant to fire blight and scab. ‘Teton’ is hard to find, but worth seeking for its yellow berries, as it combines well with variegated Aucuba, Gold Dust Shrub.

A single cut limb can decorate the length of a fireplace mantel. Berries remain attached to stems for a long time, a boon for holiday arrangements. Sharp spines occur along the length of the stems. It is advisable to remove the thorns with pruners as part of the harvesting process. If you opt to skip the thorn removal, use heavy gloves for post-season cleanup of cut limbs or be prepared to bleed.

Pyracantha grows fast, up to two feet per year. Blooms occur only on year-old wood, so avoid excessive pruning. Do not fertilize, as this can result in rampant overgrowth and reduced flowering. Pyracantha is best planted in the fall. Shrubs resent root disturbance, so select a permanent site. Flowers and fruit are carried on short spurs along the arching stems.

Pyracantha hedges discourage trespassers. Because of its rapid growth, Pyracantha makes an excellent candidate for espalier but requires frequent maintenance to maintain the desired shape. It has been a practice to locate shrubs under bedroom windows to discourage burglars but this can spell misery for the gardener who must maintain them. The tight clusters of white flowers smell bad, so if you decide to try your hand at espalier, select a brick wall or a trellis at a distance from outdoor seating areas. Pollinators flock to the flowers. Deer leave the plants alone, probably due to those sharp thorns.

This Pyracantha espalier is located in a downtown pocket park in Tryon, NC. The park is maintained by the Green Blades Garden Club of Tryon. Years ago, the espalier was an intricate form but it grew out of control and beyond the reach of a gardener standing on the ground. As a result, it had to be cut back hard this year. A new training effort is underway.

Heavy corrective pruning reduced the number of berries but it is lovely anyway. With careful shaping, it should be spectacular next year.

Feeding Birds In Winter

Yesterday’s local newscast included a plea from a plumbing company to NOT allow cooking juices from holiday hams and turkeys to enter kitchen drains. Service calls for clogged pipes are so common on the day after Thanksgiving that plumbers call it Brown Friday instead of Black Friday. Yuck! So please, allow that fat to solidify at room temperature, skim it off, and mix it with peanut butter, cornmeal, and oatmeal to create suet cakes to feed the birds. This takes recycling to a higher level. There are many suet cake recipes available online. I heat my mixture in the microwave to make it spreadable, pour it onto a parchment-covered cookie sheet to harden, then cut it into blocks with a pizza cutter. Wrap extras in foil and store them in the freezer. You can also purchase pre-made suet cakes. On occasion, I have sliced pieces of fruitcake and shared those with the birds as well.

Birdfeeders come in different designs, from platforms to see-through domes to tube types. Birds don’t care about the cost of your feeder, but if you have numerous squirrels, it is worth the investment to purchase the type of feeder that closes when a non-bird visitor lands.

I live in black bear territory, so no birdfeeders go out while bears are in their hyperphagia phase, eating massive amount of food to build a fat layer before hibernation. Once the bears hibernate, feeders go out again. My favorite food for the feeders is sunflower seeds. My birds tend to kick the millet seeds out of the feeders to get to the larger seeds and dried fruits. We use black oil sunflower seeds to attract large birds like cardinals and blue jays, suet cakes to lure the nuthatches, chickadees, and tufted titmouses, and an open platform with mealworms to feed our bluebirds. I thought that bluebirds migrated, but we see them year-round. Doves visit the platforms but also kick seeds out of the larger domes (mine looks like a little transparent silo) so that they can feed at ground level. Our woodpeckers pick the raisins and peanut pieces out of the suet cakes.

Equally important to birds is a water source, so if water freezes in your birdbaths, make it part of your morning routine to replace ice with fresh water or use one of the heating elements designed for birdbaths to prevent a shallow bowl from icing over. For the health of the birds, it is important to keep water sources clean, so scrub birdbaths as needed. Rinse completely to remove any vestige of bleach or detergent before refilling.

If you prefer providing bird sustenance from plant materials to stocking birdfeeders, here are some of the most bird-popular plants in the Snoddy garden:
Eastern Red Cedar (Juniperus virginiana): Small blue berries attract robins and cedar waxwings.
Elderberry (Sambucus canadensis): Elderberries lure robins, cardinals, grosbeaks.
Beautyberry (Callicarpa americana): Purple berries attract lots of birds, including mockingbirds.
Dogwood (formerly Cornus florida now Benthamidia florida): Red berries are loved by birds, squirrels, and other wildlife,.
Holly (Ilex opaca): Bright red berries attract cardinals, cedar waxwings, and robins.

Please be consistent with offering food and water. Once birds learn where feeders are located, they suffer when sources goes unreplenished.

Bonus info: Sunflower seeds have allelopathic characteristics. That means they contain a chemical that is toxic to other plants. This is the reason that the ground underneath sunflower seed feeders does not grow grass or anything else. Pick up the empty hulls to keep this dead zone to a minimum.

Woodpecker on a tube feeder

Before I learned about removing birdfeeders in autumn, this smiling black bear told me how much she enjoyed the black oil sunflower seeds in our feeders.

When Cotton Was King

As we pull on our blue jeans or snuggle into our flannel sheets at night, few of us stop to think about the fabric involved. Modern science has given us a number of synthetic fabrics, but there was a time when cotton was king. Cotton culture and processing were vital to southeastern farmers and textile mills. Today’s blog is lengthy, and much more personal than my average post. I beg your indulgence.

Cotton’s history is inextricably entwined with the history of black slavery. I will leave that subject untouched and relate how it impacted my family and my husband’s family in a post-slavery world.

Cotton was a godsend for the southeast farmer who struggled to survive in the 1920s. Another choice was tobacco. North Carolina trended toward tobacco farming, while South Carolina leaned toward cotton. Landowners of small tracts could split planting between cotton and food crops in a bid for self-sufficiency.

My husband’s parents worked in textile mills for forty-plus years. My mother-in-law worked in the Spartan Mills office, recording weights of received shipments. My father-in-law worked in the weave room. His aptitude for technology led him to a supervisory position, where he embraced new electronic devices, a precursor of today’s computer systems. Being around loud machinery cost him most of his hearing ability, and he spent the last decade of his life in near-deafness. They were honest people with a strong work ethic. Without their frugality and hard work, my husband and I could not enjoy our current lifestyle. The table in my foyer holds a weaving shuttle and a memorial cotton bale to remind me daily of their sacrifices.

My mother was born in 1920, the second of four children to a farmer with small land holdings. Her father, Tom Brown, worked hard to make a living for his family. He supplemented his income with construction work when it was available. He planted cotton as well as corn, watermelons, and butter beans. He depended heavily on his children to help with field work. This was normal. The children of farming families were expected to participate in supporting the family. My mother related how her hands hurt when ripe cotton bolls (the mature flower and its resulting fiber) were harvested. The bolls ripened in late October, and cold temperatures hurt her hands as much as the sharp husks from which the ripe cotton bulged. Gloves were a luxury reserved for wealthier folks. The Brown family could not afford to take their cotton to a gin for seed removal, so every night before they were allowed to sleep, each child was required to fill their shoes with cotton seed they pulled from their portion of the daily harvest. The older the child, the bigger the feet, and the more labor required before the evening rest. A single boll usually has twenty-six seeds. The fibers adhere firmly to the seeds, so removal was not an easy task.

Sadly, an 1844 Griswold cotton gin sat, unused, underneath the lean-to of a barn on the Brown property. It was inherited by our grandfather in a non-working state. Grandfather Brown did not have the time, money, or technical expertise to return it to a working status. My brother, Jerry Neely, took possession of the rotted timbers and few metal parts that remained of the gin after Grandfather Brown passed. Jerry planned to restore the gin to its original operating state. He approached the restoration with unparalleled patience, using 1920’s photographs of a similar gin, and repeated machinations with AutoCAD, an engineering and design software program. He eventually brought the gin back to perfect running order. It is now housed at the Fountain Inn (SC) History Museum. The ginning mechanism itself consists of fifty 9-inch saw blades paired with brush bars. The brushes are made of hog bristles, counted individually and tied by hand. At the time of the restoration, the only source for these bristles was in the country Latvia. To fully appreciate the tedious, painstaking nature of the tying task, you should know that my brother has hands roughly on the same scale as Andre The Giant.

This is all that was available before the restoration began:

Restoration underway

Ready to Gin

Boll weevil model in the Cotton Museum

Cotton (Gossypium hirsutum, pronounced gu-SIP-ee-um her-SOO-tum) is still grown in South Carolina, over 250,000 acres in the lower part of the state. The plant is beautiful in flower, closely resembling Hibiscus blooms.

The South Carolina Cotton Museum is located in Bishopville, SC. It is worth a visit to see the enlarged model of the notorious boll weevil. The boll weevil’s lifespan is only three weeks, but over a two-year span in the early 1920’s, it wiped out 70% of the Carolina cotton crop. Boll weevils are rare now but will never be completely eradicated. Vigilance and monitoring are necessary to prevent a resurgence. That is why it is illegal to grow non-commercial cotton in SC without a permit. 

While we all think of cotton in terms of the fabric woven from its fibers, the entire plant is useful. Pressed seeds produce oil, and the plant can be used as animal fodder. The next time you grab a bleached, pristine white cotton ball to remove your makeup, consider its origin.

Fun facts: A typical cotton bale weighs 480-500 pounds. Our money is 75% cotton. Cotton is a member of the Mallow plant family. The plant is a heavy user of nutrition, and soil must be regularly amended with fertilizer to avoid depletion.

Planning for Pollinators

My garden experienced its first freeze last week. Overnight, it went from colorful and sassy to crispy and sad. Yesterday, our high temperatures approached record warmth. Every year, it seems, tender plants are zapped by the cold and then temperatures moderate for at least a week or two before cold arrives and stays. This pleasant temperature window is an ideal time to plan for next year’s gardens.

Even if you are not a fan of butterflies, bees, or hummingbirds (freak!), please consider incorporating at least a few pollinator favorites next year. Here is a list of those in the Mary Snoddy garden which have performed well in heat and humidity while they lured bees and butterflies.

Achillea hybrids (Yarrow)
Asclepias tuberosa (Butterfly Weed)
Buddleia davidii (Butterfly Bush; pick a sterile cultivar)
Cleome hassleriana (Spider Flower)
Cosmos bipinnatus (Cosmos, pinks and rose shades)
Cosmos sulphureus (Cosmos, yellows and orange shades)
Echinacea purpurea (Coneflower)
Eutrochium purpureum (Joe Pye Weed)
Hibiscus coccineus (Swamp Hibiscus)
Kniphofia uvaria (Red Hot Poker – try one of the dwarf cultivars)
Lantana camara (Lantana, many color choices)
Lobelia cardinalis (Cardinal Flower)
Rudbeckia triloba (Brown-eyed Susan, small faces)
Rudbeckia fulgida (Black-eyed Susan, large faces)
Salvia leucantha (Mexican Sage)
Salvia rutilans (Pineapple Sage)
Sedum (Stonecrop, especially tall varieties)
Tithonia rotundifolia (Mexican Sunflower)
Verbena bonariensis (Brazilian verbena, Verbena on a Stick)
Vernonia noveboracensis (NY Ironweed)
Vitex angus-castus (Chaste Tree)
Zinnia elegans (Zinnia)

Plant just one or plant them all — You will enjoy watching the pollinators next year while you sip a glass of iced tea as you stroll through your garden.

Remove the Welcome Mat for Stink Bugs

After enduring a twenty-month house renovation project, my husband and I spent our first night in our “new” home this week. It was delightful. Yes, there are a few punch list items remaining, but it was nirvana compared to the last year spent in the cramped loft apartment above our donkey barn. We don’t raise donkeys, understand, but the previous owners did and somehow the name stuck. Unfortunately, we are not the only creatures that moved into the house. With doors constantly open for the transference of furniture and a bazillion boxes, numerous stink bugs thought our place looked like the ideal spot to spend the winter.

Stink bugs, more exactly brown marmorated stink bugs (Halyomorpha halys), are native to Asia. They were unintentionally introduced to North America in the 1990s, most likely as stowaways in shipping containers. These invasive pests are concentrated in the mid-Atlantic US but have been found in 38 states.

Stink bugs do not bite people or pets. They don’t carry diseases but they cause extensive damage to food crops. They have piercing mouth parts to penetrate fruit so they can feed on juices. The Environmental Protective Agency reports that stink bugs feed on “numerous fruit, vegetable, and field crops including apples, apricots, Asian pears, cherries, corn (field and sweet), grapes, lima beans, nectarines and peaches, peppers, tomatoes and soybeans. Physical damage to fruit includes pitting and scarring, sometimes leading to a mealy texture. This injury makes the fruit unmarketable as a fresh product and in severe cases can even render the crop unusable for processed products.”

In autumn, stink bugs seek a warm spot to overwinter. Our houses look like great vacation resorts. Insects like to nestle down in the folds of clothing, draperies, or even hanging towels. They like bookcases and the small cracks where baseboards meet walls. If crushed or disturbed, these half-inch, shield-shaped insects release a nauseating smell. If you are sensitive to the odors produced by ladybugs and cockroaches, you may have a reaction to stink bugs also. Insects can be removed with a vacuum cleaner, but it will smell bad afterward. If you grab one, even with a tissue, the stench remains on your hands through numerous hand-washing episodes. Few insecticides are labeled for use against these varmints, but research is underway for a natural predator that will reduce populations without harming anything else. A parasitic wasp appears promising.

One simple way to remove a stink bug is to hold a (disposable) jar or small bucket of soapy water with a splash of vinegar underneath it. Jostle the intruder, give it a puff of morning breath, or otherwise make it feel threatened. The insect’s natural reaction is to drop straight down – into the Vessel Of Death.

The best defense is a good offense: Prevent invasion into your home by removing entry points. Caulk cracks in windows, door frames, and foundations. Weather-strip doors, including foundation access doors. Use a screened chimney cap to prevent a Santa maneuver.

While my focus is on keeping stink bugs out of my residence, the EPA reports that brown marmorated stink bugs can have a significant negative impact on American manufacturers: “Cars and other vehicles manufactured in areas of the United States where brown marmorated stink bugs are present must be fumigated or heated to temperatures over 122ºF for several hours before they are allowed into some international ports. The cost of these measures, which are intended to prevent introductions of brown marmorated stink bugs to new countries, can be significant.”

For all our sakes, let’s hope that the search for a biologic control is soon successful.

Persimmons and Memories

One of my first cousins died of cancer last week. Sadly, my extended family has never been close the way my husband’s is. I was next-to-youngest of the twelve cousins, with an age range of almost thirty years between oldest and youngest. As a child, the four-year difference between me and Allen seemed enormous. A half-century later, it seems only the briefest of spans. I have two memories of his childhood antics. The first involved holding a firecracker until it exploded, resulting in blistered thumb and forefinger. The other leads me to today’s blog, concerning the lowly native persimmon.

It was a family tradition to gather at our maternal grandparents’ home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Theirs was a humble life, with a temperamental wood-fired iron stove in the kitchen and a privy in the edge of the woods. A woodstove heated the dining room, which was used as a common room. The fireplace in the living room was rarely lit. The kids were usually told to go outside to amuse ourselves. A large native persimmon tree stood at the corner of the pasture. It was always loaded with golf-ball sized fruit that were equal parts pulp and seed. By Thanksgiving, most of the hard, green fruit had turned orange. The ripest ones had softened, wrinkled a bit and fallen to the ground, where I and the other cousins picked them up and ate them. We were careful to avoid the prickly husks near the stem. Part of the ritual was seeing how far one could spit the seeds. On a dare, Allen ate a green one. His facial expression told me all that I needed to know about green persimmons. Later, my mother explained to me that frost must touch the fruit before it became edible. While the “touched by frost” part wasn’t factual, an unripe persimmon is packed with tannins and extremely astringent. And by astringent, I mean inedible.

Native persimmon (Diospyros virginiana, pronounced dy-OS-pe-res ver-jin-ee-AY-nah) is not to be confused with Asian persimmon, Diospyros kaki. The Asian forms are larger, mostly seedless, and many can be eaten while still firm. They are less cold-hardy than the native species. I have a couple of the Asian-type trees planted in my orchard, but it will be a few years before they produce anything edible. The native fruits have been enjoyed for many years by humans and animals. Early and Native Americans dried them or used fresh pulp in breads and puddings, or even brewed leaves into a tea. During the Civil War, Confederate soldiers roasted the seeds and used them to brew a coffee substitute. Deer, coyotes, bears, foxes, and skunks enjoy fallen fruit. They are a favorite treat of the opossum. Flowers and fruit attract a range of pollinators. My husband was shocked when he witnessed me eating fallen fruit from a tree outside his childhood home. He described persimmons as “food for the pigs” and labeled them as disgusting. My energetic seed spitting may have contributed to the disgusting assessment.

Native persimmon is tolerant of poor soil, wind, and heat. It performs best in full sun to partial shade, in moist, sandy soils. I have seen some fabulous specimens growing in heavy clay and half-shade. Trees can reach heights up to 80 feet and widths to 35 feet, although their growth rate is slow. The dark wood is dense and hard, and has been used for golf club heads and pool cues. Persimmon trees grow a deep tap root which makes them difficult to transplant. Trees are either male or female (“dioecious”). Both are required to produce fruit. Trees do not produce well when young; heaviest fruit set is on 10-year-old trees and older. Often, fruit persists on the tree after the leaves have fallen, looking like orange decorations. Tree bark is distinctive, with a square pattern sometimes called alligator bark. They are hardy in zones 4 through 9. Fall color is attractive, so enjoy trees in your home landscape even before they become fruit-bearing. Several named cultivars are available with exceptional fall color or larger fruit. Try to locate trees that are local to your area. Northern-sourced trees don’t do well in the south and southern-sourced trees may not produce mature fruit in the north.

There is a colloquial weather prediction based on the inside of a split persimmon seed. While this is as reliable as the wooly worm, here is a summary, just for funsies:  If the inside of the seed has a white streak that looks like a fork, winter will be mild. A spoon-shaped streak predicts heavy snowfall. A knife-shaped streak indicates cold winter winds that will cut like a knife.

This tasty morsel is ready to be enjoyed, either by me or by wildlife.

The orange color is deceptive. These are not quite ready to eat.

Jewels for the Flower Garden

Talinum paniculatum, commonly known as Jewels of Opar, is a small succulent plant that can have a large impact in your garden. The chartreuse foliage contrasts beautifully with dark groundcovers like Ajuga ‘Black Scallop’ or Ajuga ‘Chocolate Chip,’ and looks great paired with purple petunias. Fine stems support small, pink flowers. The round purplish seed heads that follow are just as attractive as the flowers. It is now classified in the family Talinaceae, formerly Portulacaceae. Like members of the Portulaca family, established plants withstand both heat and drought.

Talinum is native in the warm southeastern U.S. (NC to FL) and Latin America. It is cold tender where I live (zone 7b), dying with the first hard freeze, but reseeds so readily that it functions as a perennial in the typical garden. It hardy in zones 9-11, and even into zone 8 if the winter is mild. If you want plants to reseed, do not remove the spent flowers and their resulting capsules. Each small, round seed capsule contains numerous, tiny black seeds. Seeds saved from the prior year can be scattered in spring where they are intended to grow as soon as the chance of frost is past. Any extras are easy to pull up.

Jewels of Opar tolerates a wide range of sunlight and soil fertility. For the brightest yellow-to-chartreuse leaf color, give plants partial shade. Full sun makes the leaves turn a darker green, while too much shade results in a weak, leggy plant Mature plants average 18-24 inches in height. Plants prefer a sandy, well-drained soil but tolerate clay well. Richer soils result in a taller plant. Leaves are reputed to be edible as a spinach or lettuce substitute, but I have not eaten any of them so I cannot offer an opinion.

In the dappled shade of crepe myrtles, Talinum (Jewels of Opar) offers a nice contrast to Ajuga and Hosta.

Preparation for Over Wintering Container Plants

It is time to bring tender outdoor plants inside before the arrival of cold temperatures. For happiest plants, make the transition a gradual one. No matter how large your windows are, indoor light is not as powerful as outdoor exposure. Rather than moving your containers from a sunny porch directly to their winter home, condition them to reduced light. Just as you harden off new seedlings by exposing them to increasing amount of sun and wind, reverse the order and move those soon-to-be-houseplants into a shady, protected area for a week before they make the relocation to indoors. This extra step allows them to acclimate to reduced sunlight and helps prevent extensive leaf drop.

Once plants have made the move, look for stretching (elongated stems) or reaching toward light sources. If too much stretching occurs, invest in a grow light to supplement what is naturally available. Don’t allow leaves to touch the bulbs. It is a good idea to rotate plants a quarter-turn each week to maintain a normal shape. Repurpose an unused lazy susan or place the container atop a handful of marbles in its saucer. The marbles serve as pseudo ball bearings; plants can be rotated easily without moving the saucer and scuffing floors.

Before you bring them indoors, check plants for insects. I use a hand-held magnifying lens (a 10x jeweler’s loupe) to look for tiny insects like spider mites, white fly, scale, and aphids. I never know what my pets might nibble on, so I avoid insecticides on any indoor plants. A cotton swab dampened with rubbing alcohol can remove pests without damaging leaves or leaving toxic residues. Also remove any dead, dying, or ragged leaves.

Spring is the right time to repot container plants, but I am usually too busy with other garden tasks at that time, so I do a fall cleanup, cutback, and repot all at once. I typically discover some of my container plants have become horribly, embarrassingly root-bound. This is also the time of year that I buy a few plants that have been marked down as part of an end-of-season sale. These, too, are likely to be root-bound.

So, what does “root-bound” mean, exactly? It is when the roots of a plant have outgrown the volume of soil in its pot. The roots have circled the outermost section of the container. In worst cases, roots have displaced the soil so that you can barely see any dirt. If the problem is minor, use a hand cultivator to tease the roots away from each other. Don’t be concerned if you break a few. Significant congestion calls for more drastic steps. For serious cases, use a serrated knife or an electric carving knife from the kitchen to peel off the outside of the root mass. Do not dig deep into the root ball; just remove the outermost portion and an inch or two off the bottom. Reduce top growth at the same time. Return the whittled rootball back to its container, adding enough fresh potting soil to fill the pot, and water just enough to settle everything.

Be cautious to not overwater plants that have moved indoors for the winter. Plants that are not exposed to drying breezes or harsh sun need less moisture. While they do need high humidity, a too-wet soil may cause root rot. Mist to keep humidity high or place pebbles or marbles in the saucer, then add a bit of water but do not cover the pebbles/marbles. You do not want the bottom of the pot to be sitting in water.

To encourage plants to become larger, treat congested roots as described above but replant into a larger container. Just move up a size or two. Plants do not respond well when the container size increase is too large. I am sure there is some science that explains why this is true, but I do not know a source that explains the reasons. From personal experience (read: failure), I can tell you that moving a plant from an 8-inch container to a 14-inch container does not end well. If properly pruned and roots loosened, a container that overwinters indoors will need little beyond hardening off when it is time to move outdoors next spring.

Plant Poppies In Fall

Corn poppies (Papaver rhoeas, pronounced puh-PAY-ver ROH-ee-as) are undemanding annuals, easy to start from seed. Select an area in full sun with average soil. Too rich a soil will produce leafy plants with few flowers. Prepare seed bed in fall by removing weeds and raking smooth. In late October or November, scatter the tiny seeds thinly atop the prepared bed. Do not cover. Let Nature handle the rest. Basal rosettes of foliage emerge in early spring when the weather is still cool. They look like weeds at emergence; be careful that you do not remove the seedlings by accident.

Thin stems with flower buds arise from the rosettes, curved at the top like shepherd’s hooks. The crooks straighten to heights up to 30-36 inches before the flowers open. The petals resemble crepe paper, with yellow stamens in the center. Flower colors are red, rose, pink, purple, white, and bi-colors. California poppies (Eschscholzia californica) are a western native similar in appearance but flowers are shades of yellow and orange.

If you are planning a garden event for early spring of next year, consider these for large swathes of color when few other plants are in flower. Corn poppies dislike heat and humidity and will melt away as temperatures rise. They are good to pair with late emerging perennials like Butterfly Weed (Asclepias) or Balloon Flower (Platycodon). Leave a few seed heads if reseeding is desired.

The North Carolina Department of Transportation uses Corn Poppies in median and shoulder plantings along their interstate highways.

I spotted this large field of poppies along a rural road. There were a few Larkspur flowers mixed in. It was a breathtaking sight.

I planted these poppies in a newly prepared bed two years ago to prevent erosion until I got around to designing and planting a larger pollinator garden. I got busy and the bed went unplanted. Luckily, they reseeded and I had a beautiful bed this year, with zero effort on my part.

Deer as Dreaded Dinner Guests

Last Thursday, I counted more than forty blooms on my hydrangeas. By Saturday, all the flowers were missing as well as most of the leaves. These were shrubs that I had propagated four years ago from cuttings – my babies. They were protected, or so I thought, by an assortment of wire cages fashioned from leftover sections of assorted farm fencing. Everything outside the wire barriers was gone, decimated by hungry deer. The loss made me wonder why I stubbornly persist in growing deer candy: hydrangeas, hostas, daylilies.

Deer populations are becoming concentrated as native habitats are being cleared for new housing construction. I am happy for them to live in my woodlands and eat all my acorns, but I really, really want them to leave my cultivated garden areas alone. There are many recommended deer deterrents to be found across the internet. I have tried Irish Spring soap, human hair, and motion-activated sprinklers. None of these have succeeded in my garden. My growing areas are too large and too far apart to make fencing (electrified or traditional) practical. Applications of Milorganite® and stinky products like LiquidFence® are effective, but they must be reapplied after every rain.

The use of plants with strong scents can be as effective as chemical repellants. Lavender, society garlic (Tulbaghia), blue star flower (Ipheion), rosemary, catmint, marigolds, lemon balm (Melissa officinalis), yew (Cephalotaxus) and boxwood (Buxus) can be incorporated into mixed beds. Deer also avoid butterfly bush (Buddleia), beauty berry (Callicarpa), lamb’s ears, hellebores, salvias, and bearded iris.

Deer are creatures of habit. Once they have an established travel pattern, they tend to walk the same paths daily. If this path coincides with cultivated garden beds, those beds will be browsed regularly. Anything to disrupt the regular route will steer them away from the garden. This can be a physical deterrent like fencing or something a little more mundane. If you do not use the clumping form of kitty litter, empty your cat’s litterbox along the track, and encourage your dogs to defecate in the vicinity.

Despite deterrents, repellants, and specific plant choices, remember that a starving deer will eat anything, including the plants listed above. And tastes vary. What some groups of deer will avoid, other herds will gobble up. It’s enough to turn a vegetarian gardener into a venison-lover.

Time to Curate Your Garden Art

It is the middle of September, and the gardening season is winding down as we anticipate autumn’s arrival. Now is the time for pre-winter maintenance: cleaning garden tools, sharpening mower blades, preparing a compost bin for storing leaves until they turn into that black gold known as leaf mold, and deciding which container plants will be brought indoors for winter. Swings or metal benches can be repainted now, while outdoor temperatures are still pleasant.

It is also a good time to review your yard decorations. Indoors, it is easy to overlook items which we see every day. We no longer notice the scratch on the family room floor resulting from the dog’s zoomies or the sun-faded area on the family room rug. Outdoors, we may not notice rust on our iron urns or the chipped rim on the ceramic container. That pair of beautiful, tightly-clipped spiral conifers on either side of the front door may have repaid our inattention by becoming misshapen blobs. Early fall is a good time to take a fresh look and remove the decorations that are no longer in good condition or good taste. And tastes change. Several years ago, I painted bowling balls to look like ladybugs. I loved them – until one day, they just looked silly. They are hidden in the woods now, waiting for the tide of popularity and my attitude to change. If you once collected concrete frogs (I won’t judge) but they no longer bring you joy, it might be time to let them go. If you have blue-dyed mulch (okay, I AM judging you) and you don’t live in Boise, it may be time to reconsider and go with a color found in nature. Please stop dressing plastic geese in costumes reflecting the seasons. Have you ever met a Pilgrim Goose? Me neither.

While cast bronze sculptures and lead fountains will always be considered in good taste, the popularity of garden gnomes, gazing balls, and seasonal garden flags is slipping into oblivion. Pink plastic flamingoes are acceptable only when used short-term, as a joke. To avoid conflicts between neighbors, most Homeowners’ Associations now specify what type and where yard art can be displayed. I read a study recently that said wind chimes appear regularly on the “List of Things I Hate About My Neighbor.” I’m certain that the unpopular chimes are the cheap tinkle-tinkle variety and not the beautifully toned ones that make us think we are approaching an outdoor cathedral. Painted tires and concrete blocks, anything zombie related, flower-filled toilets and bathtubs, and the like have passed their period of appropriateness. I lost every one of my Hydrangea flowers to foraging deer this season, so I wonder about people who have plastic deer in their gardens. I would be happy for them to come take some of my herd home so that they can enjoy the real thing.

Coco Chanel is famous for her advice to dress for an evening out and then remove one accessory, such as a piece of jewelry or scarf or hair ornament. I encourage you to let your plants be the stars of your garden. Keep the garden art to a few items that make you happy, and maintain them in good condition. If you simply cannot part with the painted brick your child made at summer camp or the airplane whirligig made of Bud cans created by your grandfather, put them into storage. They may become valuable or popular one day. I’m holding onto my grosgrain ribbon belts, waiting for fickle fashion to find them trendy again.

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.