SEEDS!!!!!!

After realizing that my last few posts have been a bit on the morbid side coupled with the fact that I've had a bad past few weeks (packed full of towed cars, wisdom tooth infections, and unnecessarily large and unexpected bills) I decided to take a more positive approach this week and start to think about plants for next year. Figured it was also a good way to beat those end of summer blues that we all get 'round this time. So, with this coming year (in my head the end of summer has always marked the logical end of the year, apparently the fear of starting school has had a lasting impact on my chronological psyche) I'm determined to at least do a few things ahead of time, mainly buying seeds. Last spring, per my usual way of doing things, I waited to the last minute to order and (surprise, surprise) the majority of the plants I ended up with required months of stratification. Which would have put the actual germination time somewhere near the end of September, perfectly coinciding with the first frost..... thats what I get for not doing my research.

Ideally I want to start growing things in early March/late February this time around (indoors obviously) to give myself a good head start on the growing season. Add several months for those species that require complex stratification processes (processi?) and the best time to start thinking about ordering for the next growing season is, well,..... now. This year I've decided to stick (mostly) with plants that are native to the eastern U.S.. But before I get to the plants I'm thinking about, if your not too familiar with the complexitities of collecting and growing native plants from seed it's as much of an art as it is a science, one I have yet to master. But, in case you think you might wanna try, here are a few good primers to get yourself acquainted:

- Native Seed Propagation Methods (Missouri Botanic Garden)

- How to Germinate Native Seeds (Prairie Moon Nursery)

- Propagating Native Plants (Ion Exchange, Inc.)

- Seed Collecting (Ion Exchange, Inc.)

- Drying Native Seed (Ion Exchange, Inc.)

- Notes from William Cullina - Why you Can't Buy A Forest in a Can

- The New England Wild Flower Society Guide to Growing and Propagating Wildflowers of the United States and Canada (William Cullina)


Anyway here's a few of the plants and the companies I'm ordering from. Now for hard part....whittling down the list.


Epilobium angustifolium 'Album' - http://b-and-t-world-seeds.com/ or http://www.plantexplorers.com/
The last time I saw this plant I was hiking in the White Mountains, so I'm betting that it's not very heat tolerant. But this picture I came across was way too seductive so I'm gonna give it a try anyway. The straight species is a bright magenta/pink. Ironically the white version is only available from a few companies based out of the U.K.. Hopefully it won't be a problem.


Hydrophyllum appendiculatum/virginianum - http://www.prairiemoon.com/
A little known reseeding woodland biennial of the northeastern states. Definitely looks like it's worth a try.


Symphyotrichum cordifolium, syn. Aster cordifolius - http://www.prairiemoon.com/
Always loved this late flowering aster. So long as the soils not too wet it seems to be happy wherever it finds itself.


Liatris pycnostachya - http://ionxchange.com/
In the northeast, given water generally isn't too limiting a factor (relative to other parts of the country), height is king. This is the tallest of the Liatris (5 ft) and probably the best best competitor if you're trying to naturalize in a meadow. Inherited a clump of these and took me a while to pinpoint the species.


Allium cernuum - http://www.prairiemoon.com/
Probably the best native allium, and given I have a pretty bad deer problem I've been waiting to give these guys a try (all alliums are deer resistant).


Chasmanthium latifolium, syn. Uniola latifolia - http://www.prairiemoon.com/
I've seen this grass doing well in way too many places not to grow it.


Lychnis flos-cuculi var. alba - http://www.plant-world-seeds.com/
This is a cute little european native that has naturalized in moist to wet meadows throughout the northeast. Usually comes in pink, but really like the white version. Re-seeds almost always.

THE DEATH OF A GARDEN

Acceptance is a strange animal. You might go for years trying to chase it away, resolute in your convictions. But you can only keep your guard up for so long, and before you know it you've opened your door and your convictions get trampled. This summer was it for me. After years of trying to convince myself that I could find the time if I just tried harder, or I would take a year and just focus my energy on rebuilding things, reality has finally come down on me.... hard. The gardens that I spent most of my free time cobbling together during my middle school and high school years (yes, even then) are officially gone. 100% DEAD. There is no amount of weeding, dividing, cutting, or moving that can undo the.... now years, of serial neglect.

The final straw came this weekend (among many, many other straws). I managed to come back for a visit to see the family and was doing my usual walk through the yard, surveying the few plants that have managed to survive the weeds and the occasional mow over only to find the one plant that seemed to be loving the neglect, smothered in one of the grossest plant out there... dodder (genus Cuscuta). There are way too many species for me to try to ID it, but the entire genus is essentially composed of sickly, leafless, almost worm like parasitic vines that, upon germinating, sense the nearest plant, grow towards it, and soon attach themselves, entangling and feeding off the original host and whatever other compatible plants they come in contact with. Really nasty buggers. And once they get going there's really no way to kill them without digging up all the plants the've attached to. Their roots actually die off when they're young and the plant becomes a giant brittle messy mass of tangles, where each portion of stem that comes in contact with another plant has the capacity to keep living and growing despite how many pieces you might try to rip it into.

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Dodder (Cuscuta sp.) smothering what would otherwise be a healthy clump of Cardinal Flower

This was on top of my Dad throwing a family friend some work and letting them mow the lawn.... which apparently included mowing down the nice big weed-smothering clump of 'Jacob Cline' that had been doing beautifully the last few years despite getting zero attention. So much for that. Hopefully it comes back next year.


Monarda didyma 'Jacob Cline' pre and post mow down. Note the beautiful garden ornament on the right, most likely placed there by my Dad. As with the many peices of random junk that dot my old yard, I have no idea how it got there, why its there, or what the hell it is.

Now that I think about it, the beginning of the end all started when the beaver showed up (yes, the beaver). I think it was my senior year in high school when they decided to start their dam right where I had just spent the previous summer trying to start a kick-ass shade garden (Begonia grandis, Arisaema sikokianum, Petasites japonicus var. giganteus, Osmunda regalis, and Brunnera macrophylla). If this wasn't enough, after they built their dam the Black Willows that dominated our backyard slowly fell one by one and crushed the few plants that the beaver hadn't burried, including a huge old tree-ish clump of Ilex verticillata and Vaccinium corymbosum. The only thing that managed to make it through the onslaught of natural disasters were the Petasites and a few Royal Ferns that somehow managed to make there way through the many feet of mud, sticks and logs the beaver threw on top of'em.


The Black Willow (Salix nigra) on top of the beaver damn on top of what's left of my shade garden. Mainly Petasites japonicus var. giganteus, pictured to the right (which I should actually probably get rid of before it invades the adjacent wetland)

And lastly is my old rock garden. You'd never know now to look at it, and I still kick myself for not taking any pictures when it was at its peak (other than a few close ups of some cactus), but the now mess of a hillside was once full of silvery foliaged heat loving beauties, cacti, and succulents, all tucked in a slew of rocks and small boulders that I dug up elsewhere and then painstakingly moved (by hand) all over the hill. The list of plants was long, but included Agastache rupestris, Festuca ovina var. glauca, Helianthemum nummularium 'Wisely Pink,' Sedum sieboldii, Sempervivum arachnoideum, Kniphofia caulescens, Kniphofia 'Fire Dance,' Stomatium mustellinum, Delosperma nubigenum, Gymnocalycium sp., Echninocereus spp., Penstemon spp., Yucca filamentosa, and Opuntia humifusa (just to name a few). Most of the plants were either started from seed, division or cuttings, although there were a few I got from mail order nurseries. Sadly, its pretty much all gone now. I rescued 2 of the cactus that I started from seed, but aside from a few Kniphofia that have seeded themselves along with a few surviving clumps of Opuntia and Yucca, none of the plants survived. Our super clayey soil along with an invading grove of Black Locust has certainly sped the process along.


While it may not seem entirely believable.... this was once a really well kept space.
RIP Gymnocalycium and Echinocerus.

Obviously I'm still in a little bit of denial, but for the most part I'm ready to move on. If nothing else I've learned how quickly things go to crap, and while novelty gardening is fun (if you have the resources and the time) the thing that really attracts me to doing this stuff in the first place is the possibility of creating something that has the potential to outlast me once I'm gone. While this might be an unrealistic goal when it comes to gardening, we all have to accept that at some point in our lives we all get either too busy, too old, or need to relocate and we will have to leave our gardens behind. Either way, things will happen (like falling trees, beaver, and Dodder) and nature will inevitably take its course. So if you'd like your garden to be around (at least for a little while) after it loses its gardener, work with the site as much as you can, rather than against it. Choose plants that are happy to grow in your yard without coddling or fussing, and maybe, just maybe you'll manage to make something that will be around to make other people happy long after your gone.

TREE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE

I don't know what it says about me exactly, but for some reason I always seem to end up living next to a graveyard. Granted cemeteries aren't so rare that most people haven't lived close to one at some point in their lives, but so far every place I've called home has either been directly next to, or just down the street from a big graveyard. Even my ol' homestead was just a minute walk from a massive cemetery that you could get lost in if you didn't know where you were going.


Don't let the pretty Sugar Maples fool you....

As any rational kid would conclude, my family would be the first to get munched on in the inevitable zombie apocalypse. I used to lie awake at night planning the best escape route should a hungry horde of 'em finally burst through the door.... the rest of my family was on their own (that's what you get for sticking me in the bedroom next to the basement), anyway I digress.

In addition to giving me way too many vivid nightmares and an overly intense fear of death, this proximity has made me extra observant when it comes to the character of these places. There's one particularly forlorn graveyard that I pass by on my bike ride to work that has recently caught my attention. As with most small city spaces the... aaah... occupants? are packed way too close for comfort, leaving basically zero room for your typical graveyard trees. The few decent sized trees that have managed to eek out an existence are relegated to the edges of the lot, squeezing themselves into the few far away corners where the weed-whackers and road salt can't reach. Which brings me to the most prominent feature of the graveyard..... a real life zombie!!!!!


The "zombie" (and no, I'm not talking about the old guy on the sidewalk, but the dead American Elm, Ulmus americana)

Unfortunately, the tree zombie apocalypse seems to already be here, and its putting many of the recent undead themed blockbusters to shame. More and more of our native species seem to be entering some sort of disease induced twilight existence; while not entirely extinct, they haunt their former ranges as mere shadows of their former selves. While everybody seems to know the story of the American Elm (Ulmus americana), there's also the American Chestnut (Castanea dentata), Butternut (Juglans cinerea), our native Ashes (Fraxinus spp.), our native Hemlocks (Tsuga spp.), Flowering Dogwood (Cornus florida), as well as many of our Viburnums (Viburnum spp.) and yes I know they're not trees but I wanted to include them anyway.


THE (once) dominant tree species of the northeast (the American Chestnut, Castanea dentata) is now reduce to nothing more than the occasional root sucker.

Those trees species that manage to escape total devastation are often still faced with the persistent threat of exotic pest and disease. The biggest and most recent of these (that has gotten a lot of press coverage and for good reason) is the Asian Longhorned Beetle that has the potential to devastate nearly all U.S. hardwood populations. In addition to potential threats there are plenty of exotic genus specific diseases that while may not be as devastating as some , often contribute to the overall declined of what would otherwise be a healthy tree. Even our native Beech (Fagus grandiflora) is faced with an exotic pest that destroys the most distinguishable and beautiful feature about them, turning their smooth bark into a festering cankerous mess.


Beech Bark Disease

And of course, the source of nearly all of these diseases (or at least the source of their introduction to North America) are anthropogenic (a.k.a. us dumb people). The alarming maps charting the rapid spread of these epidemics could easily stand in for any scary, scientificky looking graphic in afore mentioned blockbusters.


Emerald Ash Borer Spread (2011)

But all hope is not lost, or at least not completely. In a few of these instances the source of many of these species destruction is also the source of their salvation, or at least sort of. In the case of the American Elm, American Chestnut, and Flowering Dogwood, they all have fairly closely related Asian and/or European counterparts (Ulmus parviflora, Castanea mollissima, and Cornus kousa to name a few) where many of these diseases are endemic, thus offering a genetic source of disease resistance that is being breed into our native species in an attempt to give them at least some fighting chance. In addition to these efforts, our native population of both American Elms and Flowering Dogwoods have produced disease resistant individuals that are now available in the trade (Ulmus americana 'Valley Forge' and Cornus florida 'Appalachian Spring'). Anyone who gardens next to or around an American Elm (before they are inevitably killed by Dutch elm disease) knows that they are prolific seeders. The shear number of seedlings trees produce provides some hope that eventually at least some small portion of these seedlings will develop greater and greater resistance with each passing generation.


Next time your walking around any old northeast town or city take a look in the nearest abandoned lot. You'll be sure to find at least a few young American Elms, maybe even some decent sized trees.

In an effort to help stop the spread of these and other diseases that have the potential to completely wipe out our native forests, plant resistant varieties and be wary of newly introduced exotic species that are closely related to our natives as these could be harbingers of the next dutch-elm disease (a.k.a tree zombie apocalypse).