In Search of the Rare Oconee Bell

Gardeners have a special affinity for rare plants like the Blue Poppy (Meconopsis) or the Franklin tree (Franklinia alatamaha). In March and April, plant enthusiasts travel for miles to Devils Fork State Park in Salem, SC to catch a glimpse of the rare, prized Oconee Bell plant in bloom. This wildflower occurs naturally in only seven counties in the US.

The Oconee Bell plant (Shortia galacifolia, pronounced SHORE-tee-uh guh-lay-sih-FOE-lee-uh) was discovered in 1788 by French botanist André Michaux. Unfortunately, he did not record the exact location of his discovery. Fifty years later, an American botanist named Asa Gray became obsessed with finding the plant in its native environment. He searched for 39 years without success until 1877, when a 17-year old boy who was helping his herbalist father collect specimens, saw the plant, could not identify it, and sent a specimen to a botanist in Rhode Island, who in turn sent it to Gray for identification. This sweet story illustrates a few points: (1) Always mark plant locations so you know where to find them. Use your mobile phone’s compass app to record GPS coordinates. (2) Force your teenagers to go into the woods with you. They bring a fresh set of eyes. (3) If you seek a special plant, don’t stop looking until you have found it.

Oconee Bell grows in damp, partly shady areas, usually near a creek. It spreads by rhizomes and also by seeds. It can make a beautiful groundcover where the conditions are right. Small pinkish buds open to white  one-inch flowers with serrated petals that look as if someone trimmed them with pinking shears. The foliage is handsome when the plant is not in flower, and it turns a pretty shade of dark red in winter. Plants reach a maximum height of eight inches. They are normally found in areas that have been disturbed and are in regrowth. Once a tight overhead canopy establishes, the preferred environment no longer exists and plants make their way toward more favorable destinations.

These plants are considered endangered and should never be gathered in the wild. Professional botanists have planted seedlings in numerous places to avoid possible extinction. You can see them in spring in the NC Arboretum wildflower beds.

Oconee Bell in flower. Image by KudzuVine, CC BY-SA 3.0

Oconee Bell buds. Image by jackollis CC BY-NC 4.0

Oconee Bell showing the beginning of fall color. Leaves turn completely burgundy during winter. Image by David J. Stang, CC BY-SA 4.0

Trillium Means Spring

Signs of early spring are appearing everywhere. Crocus are flowering and early daffodils are in bloom where I live. Abelias are showing tiny leaves, buds are swelling on the Fothergillas, and maple trees are starting to show a red cast. One of my earliest spring indicators is the emergence of Sweet Little Betsy, Trillium cuneatum, pronounced TRIL-ee-um kew-nee-AH-tum. Other common names include Purple Toadshade, Wake Robin, and Bloody Butcher.

My Trillium originated with my husband’s grandmother, a remarkable gardener. My family enjoyed them for years when we lived at New Hope Farm. I dug the rhizomes and moved them to our new property three years ago. All internet gardening sites say that Trillium “do not transplant easily.” I carefully lifted a rootball about the size of a regulation basketball, and my plants never missed a beat. When our home renovation construction began near their location, I decided to divide the clump and keep some in a container in a site well away from backhoe and concrete trucks. This week, I am happy to report, I spotted healthy new growth and numerous buds on the rhizomes I potted as a precaution as well as those I left in the original location. The potted insurance plants will be relocated to a new, in-ground home during the coming week.

Sweet Little Betsy is native to the southeast. Plants have three mottled leaves and three petals, usually a deep wine red. Other species have white, yellow, and even pink flowers. They thrive in moist shade and enjoy the humus-rich soil of woodlands. Plants are winter-hardy in zones 5-8. They prefer an acidic to neutral soil.

You may have heard that one should never pick the flowers of a Trillium or it will die. I believed this until I researched this plant for today’s blog and found this folklore is total nonsense. If you pick the leaves, you may damage the plant by preventing it from generating food storage through photosynthesis, but you most likely won’t kill it. Trilliums are ephemeral, meaning they go dormant after they flower. Their food-making period is brief, so they need all their leaves to make the process efficient. Picking the flower may mean it won’t bloom in the coming year, but it will not kill the plant. So much for hearsay advice!

Trillium flowers smell bad (my opinion) but they produce early nectar for pollinators. Seeds are spread by ants. Plant reproduction via seeds is a slow process. It can take a year or two for seeds to germinate, and up to five years or even longer for new plants to flower. Division is much faster, but plants need a year or two to recover after separation. Lift plants carefully, as the rhizomes are brittle. The fleshy white roots are connected to the rhizome at a single point near the stem, technically, a “scape.” The trio of leaves immediately under the flowers aren’t really leaves, but “bracts.”

Some sites say that the leaves of young Trillium are edible, but other sites indicate they are mildly toxic and can sicken pets. Deer relish them without any bad effects.

nursery container of plant with mottled leaves and burgundy buds

Sweet Little Betsy, Trillium cuneatum, safely survived during our construction by moving to a container in our woodlands.

Tree of Heaven (NOT)

Look out, Bradford Pear tree. There is a new contender for the title of Worst Invasive Tree in the US. It is Tree of Heaven, Ailanthus altissima. Tree of Heaven (TOH) was introduced by a Pennsylvania gardener in 1784 as an ornamental. Native to China, it has spread like mad and is now found in 42 of the lower 48 states. TOH tolerates any type of soil, any moisture level, and any soil acidity. It grows in sun or shade. It produces hundreds of thousands of seeds annually. Within three months of seed germination, the tree has put down a taproot that helps it survive drought. It grows fast, up to heights of 80 feet, although 30 feet is more common. TOH has escaped cultivation and is displacing native trees in both urban and rural locations, the definition of invasive. Its roots damage plumbing pipes AND it serves as a host plant for the damaging spotted lanternfly. For additional information from NC State University, click HERE.

TOH leaves resemble sumac or black walnut leaves, with 10-40 leaflets arranged along a central stem that may reach up to four feet. Like black walnut (Juglans nigra), TOH exudes toxins that stunt surrounding plants that compete for moisture and nutrients. When crushed, the leaves smell bad. TOH flowers in middle to late summer, usually July to August. Flowers produce seeds in papery envelopes called samaras. Think of a maple tree’s helicopter seeds that have been pinched in the middle and you have a pretty accurate picture of what TOH seeds look like.

Not only does TOH spread with a vengeance, it is extremely difficult to control. It spreads by seeds and by root suckering — Little Shop of Horrors, indeed. Note: If you are opposed to herbicide use, stop reading now. Research is ongoing for biologic controls. If you merely cut down a tree without applying herbicide to the fresh cut, babies emerge from all the surrounding roots as well as from the trunk. If you try to remove a tree with machinery, any tiny portion of root left behind will spring into life as a new tree.
There are several recommendations for control. These methods include applications of herbicides glyphosate or triclopyr, and a satisfying-sounding method known as “hack-and-squirt.” Click HERE for detained instructions from the NC Forest Service. Remember to follow application instructions exactly. “The label is the law.”

Be aware of what is growing in and around your property. Any unwelcome invader is easiest removed when young. Eliminating the preferred food source will help control invasive spotted lanternfly. TOH control might save your plumbing, your driveway, and your surrounding woodlands. A widespread effort can prevent Tree Of Heaven from becoming the next kudzu or Bradford Pear.

Rosemary Is Now A Salvia

Here is another name update, for those of you who are interested in keeping up with taxonomy changes. Rosemary, formerly Rosmarinus officinalis, is now a Salvia, Salvia rosmarinus (pronounced SAL-vee-uh rose-ma-REE-nus). Rosemary is an aromatic evergreen shrub, often sold in 4-inch containers in garden centers. 

Rosemary is among my favorite herbs because of the wonderful resinous scent of the needle-like foliage, the flavor it imparts to food, low maintenance requirements, and deer resistance. The scent is not noticeable unless the leaves are disturbed. I trail a hand along the foliage whenever I pass it to release the fragrance. Sometimes I catch a delicious whiff when the sun shines directly on the plant and breezes are few. For delicious Italian bread or pizza crust, add chopped leaves (no stems) to your bread maker about half-way through its kneading process. Adding leaves too early can hamper the yeast action. A sprinkle of fresh leaves added to simple roasted potatoes elevates the dish from plain to gourmet.

Cultivars vary in form from upright to spreading. Most have tiny, light blue flowers in late spring, summer and early fall. Bees and butterflies visit the flowers, making them a good choice for pollinator gardens. Plants can be used in containers, as low hedges, or as groundcovers. Because deer generally avoid Rosemary, I have spaced plants around the garden, hoping they will work as horticultural security guards to protect my Hydrangeas and Gardenias from deer damage. There is not enough sun in the Hosta beds to keep Rosemary healthy, so I have not tried it in the shade beds, but I drop dried-out Rosemary stems from old flower arrangements in the Hosta area. It cannot hurt, right?

Years ago, I read that Rosemary was a good companion to hybrid tea roses, since it was reputed to repel aphids. I tested that theory and found that aphids like Rosemary, too. This is the only insect that has bothered it in the Snoddy garden, but others have mentioned problems with spider mites and mealybugs. I find it to be a low maintenance shrub. Plant it in a boggy soil, however, and you can kiss it goodbye. Plants require full sun and good drainage. Provide them with a loose soil of nearly neutral acidity. They even do well in rocky or sandy areas, and are resistant to damage from salt breezes.

Rosemary’s aromatic foliage makes it a good addition to winter cut flower arrangements. It is cold hardy in zones 8-10, and maybe even colder if grown in a protected location. In zones 7 and colder, grow Rosemary as an annual. It can be attempted as an indoor houseplant, but these usually fall prey to insect damage or overwatering.

Regular removal of stems for flavoring or cut arrangements serves to keep the plant compact and bushy, but with time Rosemary becomes woody and ugly. A severe pruning leaves an unattractive, stubby-looking plant, so when yours reaches that too-big stage, remove it and replace it with a new plant. Plants are best propagated from stem cuttings or layering. Seed starting is slow.

Of the cultivars, S. rosmarinus ‘Tuscan Blue’ is a fast grower. ‘Prostratus’ can be used as a groundcover or in a container, but will eventually reach heights up to two feet. ‘Arp’ is reputed to be more cold hardy than the others. S. rosmarinus ‘Officinalis’ is widely available. ‘Albus’ has white flowers and ‘Majorca’ has pinkish flowers but it is a stingy bloomer.

Remove Weeds While They are Young

Yesterday was one of those rare, glorious, warm days in the middle of winter. It is too early to start seeds or fertilize. Despite the calendar saying early February, I was able to work outdoors for hours without bundling up for a blizzard. And what did I do during those hours? Pulled weeds, of course.

 The recent warm days, the rains, and the slow lengthening of days have encouraged all those dormant nasties to spring to life. Weeds are tiny and the soil is damp, so they cannot resist a gentle tug. If you get rid of them now, you will be a happier gardener come May. By that time, roots are deeper and some plants have even dropped seeds and started to spread across lawns and flower borders.

One offender that attempts to invade my space every year is Hairy Bittercress, Cardamine hirsuta. It is classified as a winter weed, but they pop up all year long in my zone 8 garden. These weeds are found in gardens across the eastern half of the US and in southwest Canada. They prefer moist, acidic soil but will grow virtually anywhere.
When I was enrolled in the Clemson University Extension Master Gardener education program more than twenty years ago, one of our instructors brought slides showing a greenhouse full of prepared seed flats. In one flat, a single Bittercress plant was allowed to bloom and go to seed. The lifecycle of Bittercress is reported to be 12 weeks. The timelapse photos indicated that one plant had turned into hundreds or maybe thousands in the greenhouse experiment, with all the surrounding flats showing baby Bittercresses. A single plant can produce 600-1,000 seeds and the germination rate is high. The seeds are held in long, skinny pods known as siliquas. When ripe, these pods eject their seeds up to several feet away from the mother plant. It does not take long for this invader to get out of control in the home garden. To prevent spread, maintain a healthy lawn with no bare patches, mulch garden beds, mow flowering plants before they set seed, and pull seedlings before they gain size and strength.

Yesterday, I removed Dandelion, Hairy Vetch, Chickweed, Henbit, Purple Deadnettle, Common Mallow, Purple Woodsorrel (creeping Oxalis), Common Plantain, Wild Garlic and several I know by sight but not by name. I’m keeping a vigilant eye open and weeding tool at the ready for emerging Mulberryweed (Fatoua villosa, easily the wickedest weed I’ve ever encountered), flat Prostrate Spurge, and prickly Horsenettle. I know they are out there.

A casual glance across beds and borders may not reveal the presence of these intruders while they are young and small. Once the knees are on the gardeners’ kneeling pad, they are more apparent. Use the occasional mild day to remove them now. You will be glad you did.

Using Animal Manure as Fertilizer

The calendar may say February and the forecast is for freezing temperatures, but that does not stop me from yearning to be outdoors in the garden. While it is too cold and too wet to garden, I have been reading about the use of animal manures as fertilizer. There is a lot to learn. Allow me to summarize a few important points.

Animal manure provides the big three – Nitrogen, Phosphorus, Potassium – as well as micronutrients. It is also a good source of organic matter, which improves soil structure. Horse, cow, sheep, and chicken manures are used in farming and gardening. They have different levels of nutrients. Because fresh manure potentially carries pathogens like E. coli, it should never be used on fruits and vegetables. Composted (heated and aged) manures do not share this danger. For flower beds and lawns, fresh manure can be used but should be tilled into the top six inches of the soil within hours of application so that the nitrogen does not dissipate into the atmosphere.

Chicken manure, especially, will harm or kill plants if it is used fresh from the hen house in large quantities. It is considered a “hot” manure, containing a lot of ammonia. Horse manure is typically loaded with grass and weed seeds. Unless it is composted before use, those seeds will germinate in the garden. The downside of composting manure is that aging allows some of the valuable nitrogen to leach out into the air. Cat, dog, and pig manures are never used since they can carry pathogens that survive heat and aging. My favorite manure (is it weird that I have a favorite?) is composted rabbit manure. I am searching for a new source, since the rabbit farmer from my past has retired. Rabbits produce manure in neat little pellets that spread easily. My peonies put on an amazing performance when sprinkled with rabbit doo, that I have not been able to replicate with any other product, organic or chemical.

The contents in bags of “composted manure” that we buy at garden centers have been heated and aged so that any weed seeds are killed and there is no odor. Because the moisture is mostly gone, it is light in weight and easy to spread. Approximately 75% of phosphorus and 85% of potassium are still available in manure that has been aged for a year, but nitrogen content is much lower than fresh manure, so it is best to consider these products as a means of adding organic matter. The mild nutrient addition is just a bonus.

As always, the best way to know what your garden needs is to have a soil analysis. Don’t guess – soil test. There is still time to submit a soil sample to your Extension office and receive results before spring planting commences.

For interesting reading, follow this link to read How Animal Manure Could Help Reduce Agriculture’s Carbon Footprint by Emma Gosalvez, a 2020 article published by NC State University College of Natural Resources: https://cnr.ncsu.edu/news/2020/11/how-animal-manure-could-help-reduce-agricultures-carbon-footprint/

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.