Fall Clean-Up? It's Not What You Think

It's that time of year again. The garden is winding down, things are turning brown, and it's really tempting to just get rid of things that are looking less than pretty. I feel it, too. But in the last several years, I've gotten a different perspective on this fall clean-up thing, from hearing other people share their views on it, but also from being observant in my own garden.

First, I heard, "Leave your grasses and perennials for winter interest." No problem with the grasses, because yeah, they do look beautiful when they catch the snow and it's more fun to look out there and see something taller than my knees.

I heard them mention how seed heads, like those on coneflowers, feed birds and other wildlife, so I started to leave those kinds of things, because winters can be cruel. Heavy snows and frigid temperatures make it difficult for birds and animals to find food, which can be in short supply in the first place.

And then there are the leaves. We've got 100+ trees on Our Little Acre, with several of them being over 200 years old. That means we have a lot of leaves on the ground every fall and even into winter, since the largest trees are oaks. As anyone who has oaks knows, they lose leaves all winter long.

Even though we can't leave all those leaves all winter long, we started leaving a layer of them for both plant insulation and for the insects and other critters that use the leaf litter for winter protection.

These are all good reasons to not do a "scorched earth" method of fall clean-up. I do understand that it means more work in the spring, but from a human standpoint, it's a do it now or do it later kind of thing, not really adding any work to the grand scheme of things. We choose to do it later in an effort to help wildlife.

But the purpose of my post today is to focus on insects, specifically those that we love to see in our gardens in the summer. Did you know that a large number of them spend their winters right here and need the very things that gardeners may remove in the fall?

NEED.

Planting to attract butterflies and pollinators to our gardens is a thing. It's a really hot trend that I hope becomes commonplace, not just for environmentalists.

But it isn't enough to plant what they need during their breeding season. That's commendable, but what about the off season?  

Is it fair to attract them to our gardens and then sabotage our efforts - and their lives - by destroying what they need to complete their life cycle?

Not every insect or arthropod migrates. Many have the ability to lower the freezing point of their bodies and go into a state of diapause. Some can't survive, but they lay eggs that can. Some spend the winter in a pupal stage.

Let's look at these:

• Lady beetles (ladybugs) - We have elevated ladybugs to their rightful place in the world of environmental sustainability. These small beetles overwinter as adults clustered together under leaf litter. I personally have encountered large numbers of them in spring. In fact, I try not to clear leaves away until I see them moving around and emerging on their own.
  
  
  
  
  
  
• Swallowtails - These butterflies overwinter in their chrysalides and just because you've never seen them doesn't mean they aren't there. Camouflage is an important factor in their survival. Do you think the Eastern black swallowtails you've attracted to your garden in summer all leave your garden in winter?
  
  
  
  
  They lay their eggs on your dill, fennel, parsley, rue, and carrot tops. They eat those until they form their chrysalides nearby - in your garden, likely on stiff stems of plants.
  
  
  


• Leafcutter bees - I personally love these guys. They're the ones that make the round circles in the leaves of some of your garden plants. I smile when I see that, because I know that my garden is helping a native pollinator. They take those leaf rounds back to line their nests, which are often in the hollow stems of plants. They often return to those nests to spend the winter.

Remember too, that even some of the insects that might be undesirable to you are food for those you do want. The food chain is real. The more you clean your gardens of healthy dead material, the more you're disrupting the natural life cycle of the ecosystem.

I'm not discouraging the removal of diseased plants and excessive leaf cover. I just want you to be aware of how many insects and other living things that are loved and important to us in summer, need your garden in winter, too.

When It Snows, Make Snow Cream!

We got our first real snow of the season Sunday night. There was that day a couple of weeks ago where you could see some snowflakes if you looked real hard, but this was a snow that accumulated. We got not quite two inches before it tapered off.

I was sitting on the couch, working on reviewing some of the edits on my new book that will be out in April, THE MONARCH: Saving Our Most-Loved Butterfly, and I had a light bulb moment.

I CAN MAKE SNOW CREAM!

This is something that has taken me over 59 years to experience. That's just crazy. I hadn't even heard of it until a couple of years ago and I just kept forgetting about doing it until tonight. So I jumped up and quickly mixed up the first part, then went outside to gather up some fresh snow.

This was the perfect snow for making Snow Cream!

It couldn't have taken more than five minutes, start to finish. Now I'm not a vanilla ice cream lover, nor do I particularly like homemade ice cream, so this is isn't something I'd crave, but it was sure fun to do and we'll be doing it the next time we have the grandkids here and we've got fresh snow on the ground.

Here's what you do:

SNOW CREAM

1 cup milk
⅓ cup white granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Pinch of salt

Mix up the ingredients in a mixing bowl using an electric hand mixer. Mix until well blended. Put the bowl with the mixture into the freezer while you go get the ice cream. Gather up about 8 cups of fresh snow.

From this point on, you have to work fast, because it will melt fairly quickly. Add the snow to the mixture in the bowl and whip it. It should be thick enough that you can use an ice cream scoop to form a ball.

Scoop into bowls and add sprinkles, chocolate syrup, or whatever your favorite topping is. Eat and enjoy!

My chocoholic husband added Hershey's Syrup on top.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*I would give credit to whomever came up with this recipe if I only knew. I looked up several recipes online and they were all the same, with no credit given, so this is undoubtedly older than I am and may be in the "public domain" by now.

Snow and Sun: A Simple Lesson in Physics

An early spring snow in April survives in shade, but even though the ambient temperature is 27°F, the sun is warm enough to melt it. Radiant heat – the kind the sun gives – heats objects. The grass and earth are warmed, causing the snow to melt. And you thought the sun heated the air, didn't you?

In Spring, the Wind Blows Hard

It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: 

when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.

- Charles Dickens

Spring has been scrumptious so far. Each day I go to the garden to see what new blooms await my notice. I would have spent even more time doing that these last couple of days, were it not for the wind. Take yesterday, for instance.

Our high temperature was 63°, and when you're on this side of winter, that feels like summer. Except for that blasted wind. It makes both walking and driving a bit of a challenge, when you've got it blowing at a sustained 45 mph, with gusts to 55 mph.

It didn't calm down much by early evening either, but Romie and I still went out to see if the daffodils had opened. The day before, they were very nearly ready, so we weren't surprised to see few golden heads nodding - well, thrashing about, really - in the wind.

But we were surprised by what else we saw, just next to the daffodils...

A few years ago, bacterial wet wood disease began to kill our weeping willow - the central feature in Max's Garden.

We went online to seek information and advice for possibly saving the tree, but they didn't give much hope. They said it could take a couple of years before the willow would actually die and that's about what happened.

We planted the tree in 2005, when we dug out the grass to form what came to be known as Max's Garden. Max was a yellow cat - the most wonderful yellow cat in the world - that just sauntered in from the field, right through the garden like he owned the place. And soon he did, so it just seemed fitting to name the garden after him.

Our willow's first days in the newly-dug garden, in 2005.

Just three years later, in 2008, the willow tree had grown into its own, right
along with the garden surrounding it.

By 2015, there was nothing left alive on the willow, but I still enjoyed its presence.

I had made the decision to keep the dead tree in the garden because it was so beautifully shaped and it seemed pretty solid when we pushed on it.

But our assessment of it just a week ago was that it felt pretty solid then too. So much for that. Sometimes Mother Nature forces your hand.

Romie wants to get another weeping willow for that spot. I'm not so sure. I loved that willow and want something that will be a focal point in much the same way that the willow was, but I'm not sure another willow is a wise choice. It does have fast growth in its favor, though, because we're not getting any younger.

We're open to opinions and suggestions.

There's a hole in my garden . . .

65 Gallons of Sap on the Wall...

Mmmmm...

The second year of maple syrup making is now completed. We were first-timers last year and we beat ourselves on the noggins for not doing it before then. Eating real maple syrup made from the sap of your own trees is like a taste of heavenly nectar.

We were just a tad late getting the trees tapped last year, so I watched the weather closely this year in order to take advantage of the sap season as long as possible. Sap begins to flow when the daytime temperatures are above freezing, but the night temperatures are below.

Our first taps went into the trees on March 2nd and we found that the sap was already flowing, although not very fast. The weather up to that point had been unseasonably cold, delaying its start.

In the four weeks that followed, we collected a total of 65 gallons of sap, from the same three trees we tapped last year, plus two more at the back of the property that were smaller, but we didn't get more than a couple of gallons total from those.

The average ratio of sap to syrup is generally 37:1 for sugar maples and 40:1 for other types. We have mostly silver maples here and no sugar maples (maybe one, but it's too small to tap). We had two exceptionally good collecting days during all that time, with nine gallons being collected once and eleven gallons just a week ago before it all came to a halt.

The sap stops flowing when the trees are finally all thawed out from winter and that is signaled by not only a reduction in sap flow, but a change in its color, from clear to light yellow. At the same time, the buds are beginning to break open on the trees and it's all over but the processing.

This year we boiled the sap down outside since we'd just redone our kitchen and didn't want that sticky steam getting all over everything. Thanks to a suggestion from Susy Morris (of Chiot's Run, and a former fellow Buckeye now living in Maine), we purchased an induction burner from Amazon, which made the whole process incredibly easy. That doesn't mean it went off without a hitch, however. One day, I got busy and forgot to set the timer as a reminder to check it and I burned a batch. Four gallons of sap, ruined. (Boo.)

You need a stainless steel pan that a magnet will stick to the bottom in order for
it to work on an induction burner. I didn't really use the candy thermometer you
see here. It was just easier to eyeball it to determine when the syrup was done.

Taking into account the burned sap and one gallon that went bad before it got processed (it poured out of the milk jug in gelled globs), from 60 gallons of sap, we ended up with a little more than 1¾ gallons of syrup, making our ratio somewhere close to 32:1. Not bad!

Almost all the sap processed darker this year than last. I boil it until it's the right
consistency and the darker it is, the stronger the maple flavor.

Weekend Wisdom: Spring Officially Started Three Weeks Ago

You thought spring started on Friday, didn't you? Well, you would be right, IF you're talking about spring based on the tilt of the earth on its axis. Astronomically, spring began on Friday, March 20th this year, when the earth was halfway between its extremes of tilt towards and away from the sun.

This is what we've all been taught as soon as we were old enough to understand the seasons. Never mind that it doesn't always occur on the same calendar date; it's usually within a couple of days of each other no matter which year we're talking about.

Some years (most years, if we're honest), that date rolls around on the calendar and we're frustrated because even though it's technically spring, it many times doesn't feel much like it. There's often snow still on the ground and the temperatures are anything but springlike.

The red-winged blackbird is a true harbinger of spring
for us here in Ohio.

But then there are the years when we notice signs that spring just might come a little early. The crocuses emerge from ground that is seemingly frozen solid and birds that take a hike for points south during winter are once again munching at the feeders and advertising that they're on the market for a mate.

So what gives?

It's called meteorologic spring and it began on March 1st. It's not based on the earth's tilt and only a little bit on the calendar for convenience's sake, though it is three months long, just like astronomical spring. Average temperature is the biggest determining factor and it also makes it easier to compare seasonal forecasts and trends for people who depend on the weather for their business or pleasure, such as agriculture (that's us!), travel and tourism, etc.

Though it seems like spring didn't come a bit early this year, there were signs in nature that it was well on its way before it felt like it got here. And I like the idea of celebrating all the goodness that is spring as early as possible.

Bless Their Little Bloomin' Hearts

No whining about winter, but let's just say that today's predicted high of 70°, a temperature we haven't seen for 140 days, 5 hours, and 26 minutes (but who's counting?), is being ushered in with much hoopla and happy dancing.

The permadrift in front of the house still lives, but those oppressive mounds of snirt that have served as a reminder that we do not live in Zone 7b and that only the strong and patient survive, have finally evaporated, melted, and otherwise disappeared. 

I left here on Friday morning for the Chicago Flower and Garden Show with lots and lots of snow, and I came home to brown grass. Can we give that brown grass a big shout-out? YES! 

You'd be surprised at how quickly this greens up once it starts.

 And finally - FINALLY!! - the first blooms of the season!

One little lonely crocus braved the day and even though it's supposed to be much cooler for the rest of the week, I think her buddies will join her before too long.

You can't keep a good snowdrop down!
Galanthus nivalis f. pleniflorus 'Flore Pleno'

Galanthus nivalis f. pleniflorus 'Flore Pleno' has a
beautiful fragrance, but you have to get close to detect it.

I've got two patches of snowdrops - two different kinds - but only the double Galanthus nivalis f. pleniflorus 'Flore Pleno' have started to bloom.  The other ones, the common single Galanthus nivalis, have only managed to make it about an inch or so out of the ground. They were covered by a rather large drift of snow for most of the winter. 

 Daffodils and a few tulips are just starting to peek out of the ground, but I'm not seeing much of anything else spring-like in the way of plants. 

However, the red-winged blackbirds were spotted in great numbers over the weekend and late yesterday afternoon, the killdeer. There are insects flying around outside (mostly flies) and the maple sap is flowing fast and steady.

In a couple of the buckets of sap, several moths were getting their fill of
the sweet stuff.

If it sounds like I've got spring fever, that's because I do!  Even mud looks good to me.

It's Tree Tappin' Time!

The maple tree buds will be swelling soon.

There are certain things that signal the end of winter and in a year that we didn't think could possibly be as bad as the last (but was), we're celebrating each one as it occurs. It's officially the beginning of the end.

Strangely enough, this was a winter that just five months ago, I was dreading in the worst way. Just the thought of what was to come threatened to be my undoing, but here we are on the down side and I'm none the worse for wear! Yay!

This past week brought the Ft. Wayne Home and Garden Show, the first of such shows for me for the year and though I thought I'd not attend this year, I grabbed my cousin Debbie and off we went. I didn't find a single thing that inspired me there, but it wasn't a bad way to spend a bitterly cold day either.

On the home front, we're wrapping up a long-awaited (15+ years!) kitchen renovation and soon the spring season will be in full swing with other shows and travel. But as daytime temperatures finally inch upward past the freezing mark, it's time to tap the maple trees!

Monday, we gathered up our spiles and collecting pails along with the drill and headed out to get maple syrup season under way. It was a beautiful, sunny winter day with a fresh, fluffy white layer of snow covering the ground, belying the interaction going on between the trees and the ground around them.

Both of the maple trees tapped in this photo are large enough to support
two spiles/buckets. The rest of the maples we tapped only have one each.

Five trees are slated to be tapped this year - two more than last year - and we got three of them set up with their buckets. Two trees got two taps each while another one received just one tap. We'll tap the other two when the drill battery is recharged.

After last year's season, we decided that processing the sap for syrup would not take place in our kitchen especially now that we've got a brand spankin' new one. That's just too much steam to deal with, so this year I purchased a portable induction cooktop for use with my stainless steel stock pot (thanks for the suggestion, Susy Morris!) and it will be done either outside or in the garage, depending on the weather.

About an hour after we finished tapping the trees, I went back outside to see if the sap was running yet, and sure enough, three of the taps had liquid dripping from the spiles. I was rather surprised since we've not had any days above freezing yet, although Monday came close at 31°F. Night temperatures below freezing and daytime temps above are what are needed to get the sap flowing.

A sapsicle!

It won't be long before we'll have enough sap to process for some of that unbelievably scrumptious maple syrup, but for now, we wait. You can read about our last year's maple tree tapping experience (our first!) here.

Fuzzy Wuzzy Was a Caterpillar

Regardless of what you've been told, the stripes on a woolly bear caterpillar do not predict the severity of an approaching winter, but it may tell you something about the previous winter.  According to Mike Peters, an entomologist at the University of Massachusetts, "There's evidence that the number of brown hairs has to do with the age of the caterpillar—in other words, how late it got going in the spring. The [band] does say something about a heavy winter or an early spring. The only thing is . . . it's telling you about the previous year."¹

I've seen a few woolly bear caterpillars in the last couple of weeks, and all of them were the usual black and brown - black on each end and brown in the middle. But this little guy was just strolling along at breakneck speed (for a caterpillar) in the garden yesterday, with a vertical stripe of black down his back and brown on the sides.

 

I believe this one is a great tiger moth a.k.a. garden tiger moth (Arctia caja) caterpillar (please correct me if my identification is incorrect!), which is a different genus and species from the woolly bear (Pyrrharctia isabella) with the stripes going the other way. The adult moth generally lays eggs in July and the caterpillars hatch in August. They will spend the winter on the ground in a protected spot and will pupate the following June and July. The adult moths eclose in July and August.

Adult Garden Tiger Moth, resting

Wikipedia/Marek Szczepanek

Adult Garden Tiger Moth

Wikipedia/Buchstein

I can't recall seeing an adult, but the most likely time to see one is at night, since like most moths, it's nocturnal. They're also drawn to lights at night, so the next time I turn the light on outside the back door, I'm going to look closer.

AMAZING FACT:  Some woolly bear caterpillars can survive temperatures as cold as -90°F.  Yep, that's a minus sign.

______________________
 ¹The Old Farmer's Almanac

Join the "Farewell to Winter" Party on Facebook!

We're supposed to get hit with yet another big snowstorm tomorrow here in Northwest Ohio.  They're saying we could get 6-8 inches of new snow, which is on top of the snow we're trying to get rid of.  We've got drifts all over the yard that will be here for a while, simply because they were so high and it's been so cold for so long.

Yep.  This is what my garden looks like right now.

Today, we were well into the 50s and yesterday was pretty nice too.  The maple sap was running well and there was some snow melt, but with another storm poised to smack us in the face, it can be discouraging. So I decided to "turn my frown upside down."  I believe in the power of positive thinking and have always been an optimist, for the most part.

I decided today that I was going to throw a "Farewell to Winter" party on Facebook on Wednesday, right in the middle of the snowstorm.  Why not celebrate what might be the last big snow of the season?  Why...we might not get another one like this for MONTHS!

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.  Right?

175 people have already said they're going. So why don't YOU join us for the party? Though it officially doesn't begin until Wednesday (that's about half an hour from now, according to my clock), unofficially it began several hours ago.  We're already having fun showing off blooms and flip-flop feet and yummy desserts.

WHAT:  Farewell to Winter Party
WHEN:  Wednesday, March 12, 2014
WHERE:  Facebook
WHY:  To give Mr. Snow and Old Man Winter a send-off party.  Buh-bye!

There will be some giveaways throughout the day tomorrow - seeds, a garden book or two, a Starbucks gift card, and whatever else I can find around here to share.

While we were getting warmed up tonight for tomorrow's party, I got a message from Lauren Graves at Cabin Tiger Studio, saying she'd like to give away one of her awesome Perpetual Gardening Record Books to one of tomorrow's party-goers!  Wasn't that nice of her?

And then Angela Treadwell-Palmer from Plants Nouveau offered to give away one of their Aloe x humilis Spineless Hedgehog™ plants! Who wouldn't love a gorgeous, easy plant like that?  Thank you, Angie!

Aloe x humilis Spineless Hedgehog™

Evelyn's new book!

And then...Evelyn Hadden (garden author, who just joined Garden Rant) messaged me and said she'd like to offer one of the party peeps a signed copy of their choice of one of her titles:

• Apprentice to a Garden: A New Urban Gardener Goes Wild (garden memoir)
• Beautiful No-Mow Yards
• Hellstrip Gardening: Create a Paradise Between the Sidewalk and the Curb (to be released in May)

Such a nice thing for each of these people to do, without even being asked.

I hope you'll join in on the fun, and that's what it's meant to be - a place to rejoice that spring is almost here.  So no grumbling about the weather, no matter HOW much snow you get.

I, for one, intend to make a snowman tomorrow.  There will be pictures posted during the party.  And it doesn't matter if you live where it's warm either.  We still want you to come and spread some sunshine at the party, please.  We like to hear about what we've got to look forward to.

Let's party!  Bring a friend!

Soon, my garden will look like this.  :-)