Showing posts with label native plants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label native plants. Show all posts

Good news


A COUPLE OF YEARS AGO, I blogged about the depressing case of Deborah Dale, a past president of the North American Native Plant Society whose Toronto garden was destroyed by over-zealous officials who did not understand or appreciate her natural landscaping.

So imagine my joy upon checking the NAPS website this morning, to discover that a couple in Ottawa just won a battle to preserve their own half-acre meadow of pollinator-friendly plants! On July 25, 2009, the Ottawa Citizen reported that the city of Ottawa had rescinded a bylaw that would have forbidden Hank and Vera Jones from retaining their environmentally friendly, wildlife-friendly plantings.

Equally encouraging is the amount of public support the Joneses received: They received legal advice and representation from the Ecojustice Environmental Law Clinic at the University of Ottawa; the Ottawa Citizen published an excellent editorial and an equally excellent opinion piece supporting their cause; the Green Party wrote a letter of support; and the Citizen also published several letters to the editor supporting their cause. For a cheer-making experience, I highly recommend reading some of the articles, letters, and editorials the Citizen has published:

Farewell to the lawn (opinion piece)

Meet the natives: American arnica

Arnica americana for web

This is American arnica, Arnica chamissonis, aka Chamisso arnica, which I purchased as small transplants last spring from Richter’s Herbs. This cheerful, daisy-like little plant is doing beautifully in a section of my garden where I dug out a drainage ditch to carry water away from the foundations of the house. Only about 6 inches tall, it is already bushy and covered with flowers. (Correction: The plant is actually about a foot tall. But it's so sprawly that it appears to be shorter.) Given that it’s a perennial and spreads by rhizomes (but not aggressively so), I’m expecting an even better display in future years.

According to the USDA Plants Database, American arnica likes coarse soils, but this area of my front yard is quite clay-ey, despite my efforts to break up the clay with organic material.

The plants database also says that whereas this arnica doesn’t mind occasional flooding (that’s why it’s in the drainage ditch), it has very little tolerance for drought. Though we had a mostly wet summer, lately it’s been hot and dry here. Yet the little arnica continues to bloom its head off.

And though this plant is a sunlover like most of the daisy-like plants (known to plant nerds as composites), it will tolerate partial shade. So all in all, I’d say it’s a pretty undemanding little plant.

What’s more, the composites are almost all good butterfly plants! The flat surface of the bloom provides an ideal landing area for larger butterflies, allowing them to alight without injuring their wings. The central disc is composed of many small flowers, each with a payload of nectar for the butterfly to drink from.

A. americana is native throughout most of Canada and in the western United States. It is not native to the Maritime provinces where I live, but because it’s native as far east as Quebec I classify it as “nearly native”—good enough for my somewhat lax standards.

This is not the arnica traditionally used in herbal medicine. That arnica is A. montana, a European species. However, Richter’s claims that A. americana may have the same properties as A. montana. Please note that although I occasionally report health claims made on behalf of plants, I don’t endorse or deny these claims. Many plants contain substances that might be either toxic or beneficial depending on who uses them and how they are used—please never use a plant medicinally unless you’re sure you’ve identified it correctly and that you know how to use it. For a brief discussion of research on the medical properties of A. montana, see this entry in the Wikipedia.

For information on native plants


If you're looking for information on native plants, the place to start is usually your local native plant society. Here's a list of native plant societies in the United States and Canada that's accurate as of today, May 24, 2009.

First, here are some cross-border organizations:
If you have trouble getting information from any of the other sources listed here, try the organizations directory maintained by the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center.

Additional organizations are listed here by state and province, with the states and provinces arranged in alphabetical order:
Many thanks to the Michigan Botanical Club, which provided the list I updated in order to create the one above.


The illustration at the top of this post is a free sample courtesy of Dover Publications, from their Crafter's Cornucopia CD-Rom and Book.

Ninety thousand plants

Pacific bleeding heart (Dicentra formosa) is a native North American wildflower. I knew it was native on the West Coast, but I had no idea that it was also native in Massachusetts until I looked it up in the USDA-NRCS PLANTS Database, gateway to a treasure-trove of information on native and naturalized plants.

NINETY THOUSAND PLANTS. Actually, a few hundred more than that. That's how many plants are listed in the USDA-NRCS PLANTS Database, an invaluable resource any time but especially this time of year when many of us are thinking about spring planting.

Although it's never safe to say that any data source is "complete", it's hard to imagine that there's a native or naturalized plant in the United States or Canada that isn't listed here.

This database is invaluable for anyone interested in gardening with native plants. Want to know whether a plant is native in your area? Just look it up at the PLANTS Database. A majority of the plants listed, including pretty much all the common ones, come with maps showing you where they are naturalized (that is, have escaped from cultivation) and where they are native, along with a wealth of other standardized, well-sourced information.

Take Pacific bleeding heart (Dicentra formosa) as an example: If I look it up on the database, I will find a map showing that it is "present" (that is, naturalized) in British Columbia, Washington, Oregon, California, and Massachusetts. If I click on "view native status", I see that the plant is native in all those states and the one Canadian province as well.

Also available on this page are photos of D. formosa, information about the plant's status (at risk, considered invasive, that sort of thing), and a link to the plant's "Conservation Plant Characteristics" sheet. This standardized form contains about 100 items, including active growth period, bloom period, flower color, propagation requirements, growth requirements, and commercial uses.

But -- let's be honest -- the Conservation Plant Characteristics page is designed for plant wonks. Want something that's more gardener friendly? At the bottom of the top page for D. formosa are links to other websites that are better written and easier to use. For instance, at the Native Plant Database at the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center you will find information on how to grow Pacific bleeding heart in a garden and also on its wildlife uses and other benefits in the landscape, all written in gardener-ese.

The information made available through the PLANTS Database is slightly different for each plant. Whereas some plants have no web page of their own, you can at least see how even the most unusual plants are related to other plants in the database. And there is plenty of information for the more common plants. Almost 800 plants come with plain English fact sheets or plant guides that provide much of the information any gardener would want to know.

So for instance, if you look up Purple coneflower (Echinacea purpurea), you can click on a link to get a two-page fact sheet in pdf format with brief information on alternate names, uses (including landscaping and wildlife), conservation uses, appearance, distribution, growing conditions, and even varieties (known as cultivars) that have unusual colors and other features and are grown specifically for the nursery trade. The plant guide for Purple coneflower is four pages long and includes information on propagation. Both the fact sheet and the guide are written in lay language.

Purple coneflower (Echinacea purpurea) is one of nearly 800 plants for which the PLANTS Database provides detailed information in the form of fact sheets and/or plant guides.

I could probably go on forever about this database, but the best way for you to learn about it is to play around with it yourself. Here are just a few more suggestions for ways to use the database:

Want to know what plants are native where you live? Use the State Search function to generate lists of native plants for your state or province. So for instance, when I searched for Nova Scotia, where I live, I generated a list of almost 8,000 plants that are native here.

Interested in finding out whether any member of a specific genus is native in your area? Use State Search to generate a list of plants native to your area, then scroll to the species name you're interested in. So for example, if I generate a list of plants native to Nova Scotia, then scroll to the Dicentras, I find that whereas D. formosa isn't native here, D. cucullaria (aka Dutchman's breeches) is native in this province. There isn't much information about Dutchman's breeches at the USDA website, but that's not a problem: By using the links at the bottom of the page I can easily get all the gardening information I need from sources such as the Kemper Center for Home Gardening and the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center.

I can use the PLANTS database to find out what plants are native in my state or province. Even if the PLANTS database doesn't have much information on a specific plant that I'm interested in, it will probably provide links to websites that do have good information on the plant. The photo above shows Dutchman's breeches (D. cucullaria), which is native where I live even though its close relative Pacific bleeding heart (D. formosa) is not. The copyright-free photo was taken by Jennifer Anderson @ USDA-NRCS PLANTS Database.

Curious about the status of a plant you're thinking of adding to your garden? Check it out in the database. For instance, if I look up Dicentra spectabilis, the common garden bleeding heart, I will find that it is not native in North America but has naturalized in several states. This tells me that I should check the USDA page to make sure that it's not considered noxious anywhere (it's not) and the Invasive Plants of Canada and Invasive Plants of the Eastern United States websites to make sure that it's not invasive (it's not) before deciding to introduce it into my garden.

Maps at the PLANTS Database site tell me that Common bleeding heart (D. spectabilis) is not native anywhere in North America but has naturalized in a few states. Further research confirmed that although the plant can naturalize, this old-fashioned "cottage garden" plant, which is very popular with hummingbirds, is not considered invasive or noxious anywhere.

All in all, this database is a great resource. If you're shopping for plants this spring, it wouldn't hurt to assign one of your browser tabs to this site.

Where's your garden?


This map created by Steve Baskauf of Vanderbilt University shows North American ecoregions as defined by the World Wildlife Fund. For a much larger, interactive version of the map see Steve's Bioimages website. For a short stack of legalese pertaining to this image, please see the bottom of this post.

IT'S A GOOD THING I'M NOT INTO CONSPIRACY THEORIES. If I were, I'd be casting a very suspicious eye on plant hardiness zones.

This concept originated with the U.S. Department of Agriculture but has become very popular in gardening circles. The idea is that plants can be assigned a numerical rating based on the minimum temperatures they are able to withstand. This gives you a rough idea of whether a given plant can survive in your garden, regardless of where the plant originated.

Imbedded in this concept is the notion that a garden can and should be free of any ties to its location. Bring in rhododendrons from China or four-o'clocks from Peru, it doesn't matter as long as the plant can survive on your site. Gardeners are even admired for their ability to grow plants from far away places. And if they are able to grow plants not rated for their zone (tropical plants in upstate New York, for example), why, they are considered positively heroic.

Now, if I were prone to believe in conspiracies, I'd say this is part of a plot cooked up by the horticulture industry to sell more plants--especially plants that are likely to struggle and die in new homes to which they are poorly suited. And then no doubt the sellers would be shocked, shocked to learn that these plants have to be replaced.

But I'd rather just propose an alternative. What if we stop admiring gardeners who pay no attention to where they live? (They can go on gardening that way if they want to. I'm suggesting that the rest of us quit just praising them for it.) Instead, let's start to admire gardeners whose work conveys a sense of place. What if, instead of worrying about plant hardiness zones, we start thinking about ecoregions instead?

I'm not sure whether anyone knows precisely where the ecoregion concept originated, but the World Wildlife Fund (aka the World Wide Fund for Nature) has done the most to define and develop it. Their less-than-wieldy definition of an ecoregion is "a large area of land or water that contains a geographically distinct assemblage of natural communities that (a) share a large majority of their species and ecological dynamics; (b) share similar environmental conditions, and; (c) interact ecologically in ways that are critical for their long-term persistence."

But you get the idea. According to the WWF, there are 825 terrestrial ecoregions on the planet, so figuring out which of them you live in can be a challenge. Fortunately, Steven Baskauf, a senior lecturer in Vanderbilt University's Department of Biological Sciences, used the WWF's GIS files to develop a map of the ecoregions in North America. I've provided a glimpse of this map above, but to see it in its full glory you have to visit Steve's Bioimages website.

There, you will most likely be able to home in on your very own region. (Currently the map represents 76 of 125 ecoregions on the continent.) For instance, I clicked on Eastern Canada and, from there, easily found that I am in the New England/Acadian Forests, known to the WWF as NA0410.

What's more, from Steve's site I was then able to link back to the National Geographic's "Ecoregion profile" of my region, which linked me to the WWF's scientific report. Back at the Bioimages site, I was also able to find a link to the WWF's list of species found in this region, as well as other images and information.

OK, "Hail to thee, NA0410" doesn't have much of a future as a bioregional anthem. But at least NA0410 is home, and the plants that come from dear old NA0410 tie me to the place I live. "Plant Hardiness Zone 5", on the other hand, is marketing. And its plants tie me to nothing except somebody's desire to make a buck.

The map shown above is copyright 2002-2004 Steve Baskauf, who used data from Olson, D. M, E. Dinerstein, E.D. Wikramanayake, N.D. Burgess, G.V.N. Powell, E.C. Underwood, J.A. D'amico, I. Itoua, H.E. Strand, J.C. Morrison, C.J. Loucks, T.F. Allnutt, T.H. Ricketts, Y. Kura, J.F. Lamoreux, W.W.Wettengel, P. Hedao, & K.R. Kassem. 2001. Terrestrial Ecoregions of the World: A New Map of Life on Earth. BioScience 51:933-938

Gardens BEE Very Important!

Long-horned bees, Melissodes spp., are among the native bees being studied by scientists at the U. of California, Berkeley. The researchers found that males of this genus like to sleep overnight in cosmos flowers. (The flower shown in this photo, however, is a verbena.) The photo was taken by Johnny N. Dell, bugwood.org, and is used under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 United States License.

THERE'S A GREAT NEW ARTICLE about native bees in the March/April issue of Orion magazine. In "The Headbonker's Ball," Matt Jenkins visits a U. of California Berkeley entomologist and grad students who are studying California's native bees. What makes the work of entomologist Gordon Frankie unusual is that he focuses on cities rather than on rural areas. He has found that native bees are doing better in urban areas than they are in California's agricultural regions.

Gardens As Reservoirs

This finding is similar to one I reported last July. That study, conducted in England, found that wildlife-friendly gardens were critical to the survival of threatened British bees. Likewise in the very different environment of California, Frankie and his grad students are finding that properly designed and maintained gardens are now better habitat for bees (and presumably for other pollinators as well) than agricultural areas where farmers grow only one crop and also may make frequent use of pesticides.

In other words, here is still more evidence that what we do in our gardens can be vital to the survival of species. As Frankie puts it in the Orion article, a garden can be "a reservoir of genetic material" helping to keep species alive when their natural habitat has been lost.

Findings From a Bee Garden

In order to explore the contributions gardens can make to survival of native bees, Frankie et al. started an urban bee garden in Berkeley back in 2003. Among their findings: Although a few non-native plants do seem to be helpful to bees, native bees are six times more likely to visit native plants than non-natives. At least in California, plants in the Salvia family (that is, sages) seem to be among the best bee-attracting plants. But Frankie stresses the importance of planting a variety of plants, as different plants attract different bees and plants that bloom at different times provide food throughout the growing season. He also encourages gardeners to dead-head plants as they finish blooming, in order to encourage a second flush of bloom.

Also important: Leave patches of bare earth so that native bees that nest in holes in the ground can find somewhere to live. "Bare earth" means not just soil that is free of plants but also soil that is free of plastic or even thick mulch.

For more information on what Frankie and friends are up to, check out their Urban Bee Gardens website, and don't miss the excellent article in Orion.

Good news from the New York Times

The Victorian-era illustration above is from the Full Color Decorative Bird Illustrations CD-Rom and Book. This example was kindly provided by the publisher, Dover Publications.

HAVING WORKED AT THIS FOR SO LONG, I'm always a little amazed, and a lot thrilled, when mainstream publications start to promote ideas I've been talking about for at least a decade. So you can imagine how pleased I was when the New York Times "Home and Garden" section recently published an article titled, "To Feed the Birds, First Feed the Bugs."

Yes!

For the article, writer Ann Ravner visited the home of Doug Tallamy, author of a new book that has been gaining a lot of attention for naturalistic gardening: Bringing Nature Home was published by Timber Press last November. Tallamy is an entomologist at the University of Delaware. You can see his academic resume (and a nice photo) at the university's website. His book has its own website, which includes a couple of items that appear to be excerpts from the book:
  • "Gardening for Life" makes the argument for why it is so important for us to use native plants in our gardens and otherwise try to make these spaces wildlife and environmentally friendly.

  • "Gardening for Biodiversity" is a list of what Tallamy considers to be "the 20 best native woody and perennial plant genera for supporting biodiversity in East Coast suburban landscapes."

The latter illustrates why books such as these are often a disappointment to anyone who is beyond the beginner level of native-plant gardening. Because books such as Tallamy's have to appeal to a wide audience, they are often too general to be of much help once you are actually trying to create a native plant garden in a specific region. For instance, Tallamy lists all the usual suspects of the native plant world. And because he lists genera rather than species, you will still have to find out which plants are appropriate for your region.

To be honest, I'm not all that interested in Tallamy's book (which I hasten to admit I have not read--so if I'm wrong about it, please tell me). I'm very glad he wrote it, but my initial investigation suggests that it's another in a growing list of books that cover more or less the same ground. Probably the first of them, or at least the first to get a lot of attention, was Sarah Stein's Noah's Garden: Restoring the Ecology of Our Own Back Yards, which was published in 1995. In the late 1990s, I bought a lot of these books. But eventually I tired of reading the same information over and over again. Now I spend my money on reference works that are specific to my region.

That isn't to say that these books should not be published! On the contrary, every time one of them comes out there is a chance it will catch a wave of publicity, as Tallamy's has. Each wave of publicity attracts new people to native-plant gardening. Many people who are avid native-plant gardeners today caught the bug by reading Stein. Ten years from now, it looks like we'll have another batch who were inspired by Tallamy's work.

Witness the article in the New York Times, which allows us to pay a vicarious visit to Tallamy's garden in Pennsylvania, where he and his wife have removed non-native, invasive plants such as Oriental bittersweet, Japanese honeysuckle, and multiflora rose, and replaced them with natives such as white pine, black cherry, and goldenrod. The best part of the article is Tallamy's argument in favor of encouraging insects in the garden. He is quoted as saying that 96% of North American birds other than seabirds feed their young on insects.

None of this is exactly new, but it probably is new to a lot of New York Times readers. So let's celebrate. With its lovely pictures of native plants and the insects that depend on them, the New York Times article is a great advertisement for native plant gardening.

Meanwhile, if you'd like to learn more about Tallamy's book, I recommend the following:

Pollinating the spring ephemerals

Photo of Dicentra cucullaria by Catie Drew.


IF YOU LIVE IN ANY AREA THAT IS NATURALLY WOODED, the first native plants to come up in spring are those known as spring emphemerals. These small wildflowers take advantage of that brief period in early spring when the soil warms but deciduous trees have not yet leafed out. During this small window of time, they appear and flower before fading back into the soil again as their woodland habitat is engulfed in shade.

During this time, the spring ephemerals can't just sit there and look pretty--though they most certainly do. Their critical task is to attract pollinators so that they can set seed and ensure the survival of their species.

Getting pollinated is pretty difficult for the spring ephemerals because they can bloom only when the forest canopy is still open but can be pollinated only when it's warm enough for insects to be able to fly. If those two seasons don't coincide, they won't be able to get pollinated unless they are able to self-pollinate.

Because they do have such a tricky time getting pollinated, most of the spring ephemerals are generalists--they can be pollinated by a wide variety of insects. However some of them are adapted to being pollinated by specific insects. Trillium, for instance, has a distinct smell that attracts flies. Dicentra cucullaria, aka Dutchmen's breeches, is dependent on queen bumblebees for pollination. Some of the orchids are also very specialized.

One interesting adaptation is found in Cornus canadensis, a low-growing member of the dogwood family. The flowers of this plant are so eager to be pollinated that when an insect lands on one, it explodes with a shower of pollen that covers the insect in golden dust.

Most of the pollinating insects that visit spring ephemerals also go to the early spring flowering trees and shrubs, incidentally. Willows are especially popular because of their huge production of pollen. Maple flowers and flowering Ericaceous shrubs also seem to get a lot of attention.

But the bottom line is that they all need each other. The interactions are very complicated and poorly understood, and we don't really know which native plants and/or pollinators are essential to the survival of which other native plants and/or pollinators. All we really know is that they're adapted to each other, often in very precise ways. One of many concerns about global climate change is that even slight changes in delicate, vulnerable relationships between species such as these could have unforseeable but monumental effects.

My Forlorn Front Yard: 2007 Wrap Up

EARLIER THIS YEAR, I began a chronicle of my efforts to turn my forlorn front yard into a native plant garden. In the first installment, I listed the problems with the space, ranging from a very awkward size and shape through overhead powerlines to a cheap, lazy owner. In the second installment I vowed to try to create a space that would "reflect the natural ecology of the region." In the third, I described a basic approach for designing any space according to natural principles. In the fourth, I described how to prepare soil for planting.

In the fifth installment, I described an inexpensive way to cover bare soil using native plants available for free from roadsides and nearby fields. This approach imitates nature by using what ecologists call "early successional" plants to vegetate an area quickly. These hardy plants are adapted to spread rapidly in areas that have recently been cut over, burned, or otherwise (to use another ecologists' word) disturbed--that's why they do so well on roadsides. But though many people regard them as weeds, they serve a very important purpose from an ecological point of view: They hold soil and water in place, preventing erosion, and many of them also help to prepare the way for longer lived, slower growing plants that are the next phase in the natural development of a disturbed site.

MFFY Photo Gallery

And finally,
I put up a link to an album of photos showing the progression of this space from summer of 2005, when work began with delivery of a load of compost, to spring of 2007. But that was last May. What has happened since then?


The photo left was taken in May 2007. This area was covered in cardboard and compost, then planted, in 2005. Then I made a serious mistake by neglecting to weed in 2006.

As a result, by spring of 2007 I had a healthy population of weeds and, worse still, weed seeds in what had formerly been fairly clean soil. The photo left shows the area after weeding: I was left with a lot of healthy little native plants (mostly Potentilla, wild strawberry, and Sysirinchium) and some big patches of bare earth where various weeds had been removed.

The photo at the top of this post shows the same space just a few months later, in July. As you can see, once freed from competition those tiny plants had grown luxuriantly!

The photo below gives a closer view of the native groundcovers that had taken over the front yard by mid-July. The logs in the photo (which were supposed to outline paths but were quickly overgrown) give a sense of how deep the coverage was. It would have been deeper except that I used an electric weed-whacker to shear the groundcover in areas I wanted to use as paths.


Unfortunately, I did not weed whack the entire front yard. The result of not weed whacking became a lot more obvious just a month later, in August. Here you can see that the unwhacked areas of the front yard are now dominated by tall natives, especially goldenrod and, to a lesser extent, wild bergamot. I like goldenrod, but it is very common in this area, and most people regard it as a weed. Also it is very aggressive. I came to regret having let it spread, although I do think the photo below is quite pretty.



As I look back on this year's effort, I still think the concept is sound. The July photos show that a lush, thick cover of green can be achieved using common native plants. My experience also shows that at least in the sunnier areas, these plants can choke out almost all invasive non-native plants. Only in the shadier spots, where the native groundcovers did not do so well, did I have crops of thistles, dandelions, and other nonnatives.

On the other hand, the execution of my plan was weak. This lazy owner, true to form, did not put enough time into weeding. Had I done a thorough weeding in 2006, I probably would not be struggling with patches of nonnative invasives now. Because they've had a chance to get established, I may have no choice but to go after them with--gasp--Roundup. But first I'll try a lot of digging in early spring.

Another issue is aesthetic. The front yard is supposed to be a compromise zone--wild enough to make me happy but not so wild that visitors will think I've let it go. I failed to meet that goal: The front yard, though mostly native (which is enough to satisfy me), looked far too wild for most tastes. The reason is that I don't like to use the weedwhacker: It wastes electricity, and there is always the risk of harming an animal that's hiding among the plants. Unfortunately, by not weedwacking enough I let the native plants get too tall, and I also let the naturally tall natives (e.g., goldenrod) take over. As a result the front yard never looked tidy; by fall, even though I was fairly pleased with it, I knew that most people would think that it was completely out of control.

Next year, if the weeds cooperate, I'm going to make more of an effort to keep the natives at a "lawnlike" height. Can I have a native front yard that someone other than me will like?

Quick Take: An Ode to Be Visited



"THIS WEEK AT HILTON POND" is always worth a visit, but this week they have an especially visit-worthy installment. "Ode to Goldenrod" is a photo essay with text devoted to the many small organisms that make their homes among these flowers. The photo essay is composed of large, perfectly focused close-up shots of creatures such as the jumping spider (shown gazing at the photographer calmly, using four of its eight eyes), the green lynx spider and a batch of its hatchlings, a katydid, several wasps, and of course the ever-present and always beloved bumblebee. The photos are all accompanied by text that discusses the life and habits of the creatures pictured.

"This Week at Hilton Pond" is a weekly newsletter posted to the website of the Hilton Pond Center for Piedmont Natural History. According to the author, Bill Hilton Jr., the newsletter is devoted to phenology, "the study of change in nature--including the unfolding of seasons and the sometimes subtle ways in which plants, animals, and habitats respond to different photoperiods, variations in temperature, and other biotic and abiotic factors." I had never heard that word until I read it at this website, but I think I will be using it often in future. (In fact, these days I often think that I am much more a phenologist than I am a gardener!) My only complaint about "This Week at Hilton Pond" is that they don't seem to maintain a browsable directory of entries. You can search the site for a topic if you know what you're looking for, or you can page through old entries in the series by working your way backwards from the current installment, but there is no list of topics you can browse. (Or at least I didn't find one.) But this is a quibble compared to the quality of the writing and photography on this blog.

For my own reflections on goldenrod, please see this post.

Meet the Natives: Common Milkweed, part two

A pasture such as the one shown above could easily be overrun by common milkweed, ruining its value as food for livestock.

Click here for part one.

BANS ON COMMON MILKWEED, a plant that is vitally important to the monarch butterfly, are a sad reminder that the needs of humans and the needs of wildlife do sometimes conflict. However, this dilemma also gives us a chance to explore ways of trying to meet the needs of both. One important lesson is that gardeners in cities, suburbs, and other areas where there is not a lot of agriculture going on have a vital role to play--if they can get over their all-too-common obsession with "neat and tidy" landscaping practices.

The (Sad) Case for Milkweed Bans

Monarchs are threatened, but so are small farms. And as a resident of farm country, I cannot help but recognize that common milkweed might pose a threat to my neighbors' livelihoods.

There is a large (but family owned) dairy farm where I live, for example. The cows seem to be treated well, with access to pasture throughout the growing season. For winter feeding, the farmer cuts hay on a number of local properties. If these fields were to become infested with milkweed (which could easily happen if someone were to introduce it to the area), this hay would be useless. The only way to keep milkweed out of the pastures would be to use one of the few herbicides that's effective on this plant, a solution that would be expensive and that I doubt anyone in the community would want.

This is why several Canadian provinces have passed bans on common milkweed. (But please don't get the idea that Canadians are backward. As far as I've been able to find out, the main reason such bans are almost nonexistent in the United States is that U.S. farmers use more herbicides, making the bans unnecessary.) I think this is excessive, using a chainsaw where a scalpel would be the ideal tool. But I grudgingly admit that I understand how the bans came to be passed.

The Possibility of Compromise

Canada isn't oblivious to the potential impact of these bans on monarch butterflies. Thus far, most of the provinces seem to have dealt with the dilemma by using selective enforcement. In other words, the bans are on the books for use when milkweed becomes a problem, but they aren't enforced unless somebody complains. For example, in 1996 a researcher for the Monarch Watch organization was told that in Ontario, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba, milkweed was being controlled only on a "complaint" basis. Only Nova Scotia had an active eradication program at that time.

Ontario has taken this policy one step further by publicizing its policy of tolerance. In a FAQ at the Ministry of Agriculture website, the province explains, "As long as the population of milkweed planted doesn't negatively affect agricultural or horticultual land by spreading seed and new vegetative plant material (i.e. root stock) into fields, nurseries or greenhouses then it is acceptable to plant milkweed in your garden. It is recommended that you consult with your local weed inspector and/or neighbours so that all parties involved are comfortable that the impact to agriculture or horticulture is negligible."

This is laudable up to a point, but of course any gardener familiar with the Deborah Dale case can see the pitfall: All you need is one complaint by one uninformed neighbor, and the monarch habitat you've been lovingly cultivating will be toast.

Better Options

A better option would be for the authorities to start making more fine grained, more informed discriminations. If a plant is a genuine problem in agricultural areas, for example, perhaps it should be controlled in those areas. But that doesn't mean that it should be banned from areas where there are no farms. On the contrary, property owners in those areas should be encouraged to plant milkweed and other native plants with value for wildlife, all the more so if the plants are banned in certain agricultural zones. In fact, milkweed is an excellent example of why it is so important for people in urbanized areas to create wildlife oases in their own backyards.

Mind you, I'm not saying that I support bans on native plants. What I support is creative compromise, a search for ways of meeting both the needs of humans and the needs of wildlife without causing too much damage to either one. One possibility is to ban certain plants in agricultural areas only, while encouraging or even mandating the creation of wildlife oases in urban zones. But that's not the only option.

Another might be the "lemons into lemonade" approach: Why not turn a plant such as milkweed into a commercial crop? Common milkweed has been cultivated in Europe as a source of fibers* that can be used to make paper, cloth, rope, or a soft insulating material that was used in life jackets during World War II. The flowers have been used to make wine.

The point, again, is that we can find solutions to (apparent) conflicts, as long as we are open to creative compromise. What we cannot afford is simplistic solutions or solutions that pit one group, such as farmers, against another group, such as wildlife lovers. If that happens, both will lose.

* According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, "Milkweed stems are collected after the stalks senesce in late fall-early winter. The dried stalks are split open to release the fibers; milkweed fibers are sometimes mixed with fibers of Indian hemp (Apocynum cannabinum). The bark is removed and the fibers released by first rubbing between the hands and then drawing the fibers over a hard surface. Twisting the fiber opposite each other and twining them together forms the cord. Often this is accomplished by rolling the fibers on the thigh while twisting them together."

Meet the Natives: Common Milkweed, part one

This beautiful photograph of a monarch butterfly on milkweed is by garden blogger Jodi DeLong. Check out her amazing photographs of monarchs emerging from chrysalides here and here.

WANT IT, CAN’T HAVE IT. That’s the tragedy of my relationship with common milkweed, a plant that is beautiful, easy to grow, almost essential for monarch butterflies … and banned in many places, including Nova Scotia, where I live. When I first learned about laws forbidding me to grow this plant, which is so important to the life cycle of a beautiful and threatened butterfly, I was appalled: How could authorities be so backward? Now that I’ve looked into it a bit more thoroughly, I think I’ve come to understand why the laws exist. I still think the laws probably need to be changed, but I now hope more for a compromise than for a complete end to all restrictions.

But before I talk about laws banning milkweed, let me give you some background on the plant.

Description

Common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca) has thick, erect stems that grow quite tall (4-6 feet) and bear 4-inch pompoms of smaller flowers that look pink to me but are sometimes described as mauve, creamy white, or purplish. As is characteristic of milkweeds, the individual flowers have an unusual hour-glass shape, with some petals pointing downward and others pointing up. When injured, milkweeds “bleed” a milky sap—hence the name.

Common milkweed closely resembles swamp milkweed (A. incarnata), which I’ve written about previously (and which, fortunately, is not banned in Nova Scotia). However, the flower clusters of common milkweed are round and carried up and down the stalk, and the plant has coarse foliage; the flowers of swamp milkweed are flat-topped and carried on the top of the plant, and the foliage is more fragile.

Common milkweed flowers from May to August, the flowers being followed by attractive seed heads that are popular with crafters. The blooms are fragrant; the odor has been described as “heavenly” and as being like that of “hyacinths and lilacs.”

By now no doubt you can begin to see why I want this plant so badly! And yet there’s more.

Value to wildlife

The U.S. Department of Agriculture offers us the following enticing quote: “This is a wonderful horticultural plant for landscaping to attract butterflies (particularly monarchs), whose numbers are declining and migratory routes changing due to lack of appropriate habitat.” Monarch butterflies will lay their eggs only on plants in the milkweed family because the plant contains a chemical called a cardiac glycoside, which is mildly toxic and makes the caterpillars and adult butterflies taste bad to potential predators.

Once upon a time, common milkweed was plentiful in the northeastern United States and lower eastern Canada, and monarchs had all the plants their tiny insect hearts could possibly desire. However, development and agriculture have destroyed many of these stands, leaving monarchs and other butterflies with fewer plants to feed on. Today common milkweed is most often found growing primarily in untended fields and pastures, ditches, and roadsides.

Where, at least in Canada, it is often treated as a weed. Yes, sadly this important plant is banned outright in Ontario, Quebec, Manitoba, and Nova Scotia.* In addition, Minnesota allows individual counties to ban common milkweed if they wish to do so, but there is no statewide ban.

The bans in Ontario and Quebec are of particular concern because these provinces are in the heart of monarch breeding territory. Nova Scotia supposedly is on the fringes of this zone, but as Jodi DeLong's photographs attest (see photo above), monarchs definitely do breed here.

Why a Weed?

OK, milkweeds are toxic. But common milkweed apparently is toxic only when ingested in large quantities. (Some of the other milkweeds apparently are more toxic.) And besides, milkweeds taste so bad that animals usually don’t want to eat them. (This is, remember, precisely why monarchs like them so much.) How poisonous is milkweed? The only documented, naturally occurring (that is, not involving nasty force-feeding of the plant to livestock) case I’ve been able to find took place in Maryland during a drought and was recorded in 1942. Evidently some sheep ate milkweed and died, but they ate the plant only because it was the only food available at the time, because of the drought.

Although anyone who wants to ban milkweed will mention its toxicity, the primary reason for banning it seems to be that it causes problem for farmers. As the province of Nova Scotia explains on its website, "Common milkweed is a competitive weed and can absorb nutrients and water more efficiently than many crops. Therefore, it can reduce crop yields significantly. Because of its rapid spread, it can quickly become a nuisance weed on farmland. Once a field becomes infested, it is very difficult to control. At harvest, the thick sap of common milkweed can clog combine parts. The fluffy seed may also clog air intakes."

Of course, farmers have to contend with many weeds. Unfortunately, milkweed is particularly difficult to control. It spreads readily and has deep roots. "Mechanical control of common milkweed, such as cutting or clipping, simply leads to the creation of larger colonies from the rootstocks of the plant," says Nova Scotia, although the province admits that "continuous cultivation will eventually deplete food reserves in the rootstocks." Common milkweed also does not respond to many of the herbicides used today. However, it can be controlled with glyphosate (often sold under the brand name Roundup), which is generally regarded as one of the safer herbicides in use today. (Many people object to all herbicides; I'd like to sidestep this debate if I can today.)

The bottom line, as the province of Ontario explains on its website, is that milkweed "can have a considerable negative impact to a grower's net economic return."

Tomorrow: Part two, alternatives to outright bans, cultivation

* These and other statements made in this post are based on Internet research. I've done everything I can short of making telephone calls to make sure that my information is accurate and up to date.

Meet the Natives: Goldenrod


IT DOESN'T CAUSE HAYFEVER. Because it blooms at about the same time as ragweed, goldenrod (Solidago spp.) is unfairly blamed for a lot of red eyes and runny noses. But goldenrod is not the culprit. In fact, grains of goldenrod pollen, being both large and sticky, must be carried around by insects; this means that they are not windborne, thus are highly unlikely to end up in your nose and sinus passages, thus are even unlikelier to cause any irritation of same.

Now that we've disposed of the leading cause of prejudice against goldenrod, let's talk about all the ways in which it is a wonderful plant.

There are many species of Solidago (16 in my province alone), almost all of them with bright yellow fall flowers that are highly attractive to pollinators, especially bees. The goldenrods are notoriously difficult to tell apart, especially since they can hybridize with one other. Of the wild goldenrods, however, perhaps the most beautiful (and also one of the more common) is Canada or tall goldenrod (S. canadensis), which is shown in all the photos on this page. The sight of those brilliant gold plumes, on top of plants that can grow as tall as 6 feet, is one of the glories of late summer and early fall in almost every state and in much of Canada.

Left: Wild goldenrod naturalizes well (some would say too well). The attractive, thick mass of goldenrod on this slope leading down to my pond will help to hold the soil and prevent weeds from taking over.

Wild goldenrod can be extremely useful as a groundcover: It spreads readily, can be mowed (and will even bloom after mowing, at a height of about 8 inches), is tough enough to take foot traffic, and has the interesting property of suppressing germination of seeds in the surrounding area, making it particularly useful for weed control. On top of all that, it provides pollen for pollinators, feeds the caterpillars of several butterflies and moths, and makes a good cut flower.

Left: Although somewhat unruly, wild goldenrod can give a splash of yellow to wilder corners of the garden in late summer. In this corner, the purple coneflower (Echinacea purpurea) and wild bergamot (Monarda fistulosa) were planted, but the goldenrod, yarrow (Achillea millefolium), and anise hyssop (a nonnative) all volunteered.

Goldenrod has been appreciated by English gardeners since the 18th century. Like so many other North American natives, however, it did not become popular with American gardeners until the last few decades.

Even so, most gardeners shy away from wild goldenrod, which will readily take over any area to which it's introduced or to which it introduces itself (as it spreads quite well from seed). While they might let it naturalize in a sunny meadow, most gardeners prefer to keep goldenrod out of perennial borders; even native-plant enthusiasts think twice about including goldenrod in plantings, if they hope to be able to keep their less vigorous native plants.

Not so the many cultivars of goldenrod, however. These are a boon to the goldenrod-lover who would also like to grow something else. Well-mannered cultivars suitable for gardens include "Early Bird" (an early bloomer, as the name implies), "Leraft" (dwarf), and "Wichita Mountains" (also short). Some others I find particularly interesting are:
  • "Crown of Rays" (aka "Strahlenkrone"), apparently a cultivar of S. canadense, is compact, and the flower heads bow over so that they are almost parallel with the ground. When the flower heads are dense enough, they resemble golden rays of sun.
  • "Fireworks," a cultivar of S. rugosa that was developed in collaboration with the North Carolina botanical garden, typically grows 3-4 feet tall. "The 3-foot-tall stems are unbranched for about 2/3 of their length. Then suddenly, they explode into many slender side shoots, each of which in turn carries an explosion of axillary branchlets coated with tiny yellow flowers. The effect is that of a star-shaped firework that continues to open outward in successive explosions," writes Mary Hirshfeld in an article at the Cornell University website, which also has a nice picture of the plant.
  • "Golden Fleece," a cultivar of S. sphacelata, was found growing wild in North Carolina. "Its flowering branches cascade in a lacy network over a rosette of scalloped, semi-evergreen leaves," according to Susan McClure writing in Flower & Garden magazine in December 1996. (As you can see, these cultivars bring out the poet in garden writers.) This one was named a "plant of merit" by the Missouri Botanical Garden.
  • "Golden Baby" is my favorite goldenrod for the perennial border. A short form of S. canadensis, it reaches only about 2 feet, with an unusually long bloom time. To me it looks like an exact duplicate of my favorite wild goldenrod, only in miniature.
  • "Goldrush" is a cultivar of S. cutleri, a naturally short goldenrod that is native to mountains in New England. The cultivar, developed in 1998, forms mounds that are about a foot tall but can grow to 30 inches in width.
  • "Gold Spangles," a hybrid, is not only short (2 foot) but also has gold-splashed foliage.
A word of warning: Not all goldenrods or goldenrod cultivars are native to North America. Though its cultivars are often sold in North America, S. virgaurea is European. As far as I've been able to find out, the popular cultivar "Peter Pan" is of this European origin. If you are trying to maintain a native garden, you will want to try to stay away from the European solidagos. I would also be inclined to avoid them out of concern that they could spread into natural areas or hybridize with local natives.

Goldenrods will grow almost anywhere that has full sun. S. canadense and most of the cultivated goldenrods like moist soils as long as they are not waterlogged.

Some goldenrod trivia from the Wikipedia:
  • Goldenrod can be used to make several shades of natural dye.
  • When caterpillars try to eat goldenrod, the plant defends itself by forming a hard bulb or gall around the insect. Some wasps have learned to lay eggs in these galls; the wasp larvae use the caterpillars for food. Woodpeckers have learned to open the galls and eat both the caterpillars and the wasp larvae. (And the beat goes on!)
  • Pure goldenrod honey is light colored and has a spicy taste. If it's mixed with nectar from other fall plants, however, the honey may be dark and strong.
  • Goldenrod is a natural source for a sturdy, long-lasting rubber. The inventor Thomas Edison developed a 12-foot-tall goldenrod that produced large quantities of this product.


A bad thing, but a good test

TORONTO HAS DESTROYED A PRIVATE GARDEN. Blogger Jodi DeLong alerted me this morning to a story on the Treehugger website about a woman whose 10-year-old native plant garden was destroyed by the city of Toronto. Gardener Deborah Dale is a biologist and past president of the North American Native Plant Society. She is also a public speaker who has been employed by the city of Toronto itself to give seminars on natural landscaping! Before-and-after photos show a perfectly lovely native garden in the "before" photo and, after the city crew was done, a scene of devastation. Knowing how distressed I can get if someone so much as steps on one of my plants (unless, of course, it's me), thinking about how Dale must have felt makes me want to weep.

The silver lining to this cloud is that many gardeners, even ones who aren't particularly keen on the natural style, are outraged by what the city did. Dale is a good representative for the native plant movement--a good "poster girl," as they say. And it appears that Canadian courts have sided with homeowners in cases such as these in the past. (Among the comments on the Treehugger story is a very interesting post by a Douglas Counter, discussing these court cases in detail. It was posted on August 31, and if you live in Canada and are at all concerned about these issues, I recommend that you look for it.) If Dale decides to take this to court (and it appears that she will), her chances of winning seem good. In the meantime, controversy over this incident may help to educate people about the value of natural landscapes.

If this incident distresses you as much as it did me, you may want to pay a visit to the Wild Ones organization. They have been leaders in the movement to get "weed control" laws changed so that natural landscapers do not have to endure what Dale has had to put up with. Their website includes model ordinances that allow for natural landscapes and tips on how to get your municipality to update its thinking on this subject.

In the long run, however, sad events such as this are a reflection of a much larger problem, which is the fear and hostility with which too many people still approach the natural world. This allows not just the trashing of someone's private garden but, ultimately, the destruction of the ecosystems on which we and other animals depend for life.

Reading the comments on the Treehugger article (most of which were highly supportive but a few of which were sadly ignorant) reminded me of an article I wrote about a year ago for the online magazine Terrain, in which I talked about the extent to which many people are dominated by their fear of nature. Believe it or not, the article is pretty funny (and it's not just my friends--hi Jodi--who tell me so). Here's a pertinent quote:

"A surprisingly large number of homeowners seem to think that nature wants them dead. This is reflected in a large number of questions that a natural landscaper must learn to answer cheerfully and with a show of sympathy for the anxiety that lurks beneath.

"Will a natural landscape cause allergic reactions, make the home vulnerable to forest fires, or attract criminals who will lurk in the shrubbery and mug/rape/murder anybody who walks by? Will children or pets be scratched by thorns or poisoned by delicious-looking (but deadly) berries? How about venomous yellow-and-black insects (referred to almost universally as ‘bees,’ although only some of them are)? Won’t they sting and, as day follows night, bring on respiratory failure followed by cardiac arrest? How about snakes? Bats? (Snakes and bats don’t have to do anything; their mere existence causes fright.) How about rodents? What’s the name of that disease you can get from mice? Avian influenza hadn’t hit the headlines when I was doing this kind of work but I’m sure that birds have now joined the list of potential assassins.

"Now, the hazards these homeowners fear are mostly real, and a well-behaved natural landscaper is quick to say so. But they are unlikely. Except in rare circumstances, you are about as likely to be killed by a natural landscape as by any other environment in which you find yourself (except possibly your bathroom—which, according to reports, is a lot more dangerous). There is no more reason to worry about being killed by your naturalized front yard than to worry about being run down by a car when you step into the street. Yet even the most devil-may-care pedestrian may blanche at the thought that planting a flower might, in turn, attract a ‘bee.’

"Eventually, the majority of homeowners find reason to not practice natural landscaping, no matter how many inducements they’re offered. They retreat behind closely clipped lawns with perimeters of shrubs that have been pruned into geometric shapes. Do I need to explain just how unnatural this is, how few animals can live here, how much environmental pollution the maintenance of these spaces can cause? Let me make just one point before moving on: A manicured landscape can be as hazardous as any other. Many of these hazards involve the very pesticides, herbicides, and power tools used to keep these spaces looking—and I use this word in its most ironic, air-quotes sense—safe."

Meet the Natives: Sisyrinchiums

THIS IS PROBABLY MY FAVORITE NATIVE PLANT. I’m not completely sure why the unassuming wildflower commonly known as “blue eyed grass” enchants me the way it does. Maybe it’s because it’s a member of the iris family, and many species resemble doll’s house versions of that plant, which is also a favorite of mine. Maybe it’s because many species resemble grasses, but with a twist—the flat but fleshy (more iris-like) leaves are tougher, and on sunny days in June and July the “grass” explodes with small but conspicuous flowers. Many people think that these little blue "eyes" seem to wink at you when wind rustles the plants' foliage.

There are many species of Sisyrinchiums, all native to the New World. No matter where you live in North America, you can probably find one or more locally native species. Here on the East Coast, S. montanum (shown in the photo above) grows in abandoned fields and along roadsides, where it spreads readily by seed and manages to survive despite competition from far more aggressive plants. Many of my neighbors don't distinguish the blue-eyed grass from the Eurasian weeds that also flourish on roadsides here, and I often think they don't appreciate it enough.

I've been deliberately cultivating it in my flower borders, and as the photo below shows, I think I've already demonstrated that it can put on quite a show when given a little TLC and freed from competition with other plants. At about 8 inches, these plants are easily 50% taller than most wild-grown Sisyriunchiums, and have many, many more blooms.

Each of these flowers blooms only for a day, and then only when the sun is shining. However, the plants can bloom for weeks. Each flower is followed by a seed capsule containing many small, dark seeds. Shaking these over bare soil will give you a big crop of Sisyrinchiums the following year.

Most Sisyrinchiums, such as S. idahoense on the West Coast and S. montanum on the East, have purplish blue flowers with a golden center. Sometimes a a plant with white flowers is found, and some horticulturists are trying to breed cultivars. In my (late, lamented) West Coast garden, I used to grow a cultivar named "Quaint & Queer," with flowers that were brownish blue (some people consider it a chocolate colour and some photos make it look almost pink) with yellow tips. An internet search also turned up cultivars called "Devon Skies" (compact form, with blue flowers), "Biscutella" (brownish flowers similar to those of "Quaint & Queer"), "California Skies" (blue flowers), "E.K.Balls" (aka "Balls Mauve," with pinkish blue flowers), "Lucerne" (very large blue flowers), "Mrs. Spivey" (I couldn't find a picture of this one but apparently the flowers are white or near-white), and "Pole Star" (aka "North Star"), which apparently resembles "Mrs. Spivey" but with fewer, larger flowers. Most of these seem to be cultivars of S. angustifolium, a blue-eyed grass that is native to and fairly common in the East.

White is the second-most-common bloom color found among the Sisyrinchiums. However, S. californicum is a bright golden yellow. A West Coast native formerly called S. douglasii has been moved into the Olysinium genus, along with other ex-Sisyrinchiums that have rounder stems and flowers that hang. But it’s also a charmer, with nodding reddish purple blooms, as shown below.



Sadly, several Eastern species of Sisyrinchiums are threatened or endangered.

Most Sisyrinchiums are adapted to damp prairies and meadows. They need full sun to bloom most profusely but adapt to part shade and will grow well with other plants, even ones that threaten to shade them out. The easiest way to introduce them to any area is simply to sprinkle the seeds over the bed. (You can try transplanting them, but I find that they don't always like being moved, and they come so well from seed that it's easier to start them that way.) The plants will then pop up wherever there's a bit of space for them, filling in holes in your plantings in the process. They can tolerate dry weather once established, but do better in moist soil, especially in spring. Good drainage is a plus, but S. montanum is doing just fine in my poorly drained front yard. Encourage them to naturalize if you can, because the individual plants tend to be short-lived.