With forest fires burning north, south, east and west of Seattle (yes, west, on the southeast corner of the Olympic Peninsula, the Maple Fire is still going) and a staggering heat wave that stayed around for the month of July and well into August just finished (we hope), it is a relief to have some cooler marine air today. Hopefully it will scour some of the smoke from our sky.
Let’s see, since the last post in May, the herons have fledged, a coyote has again been seen around campus, the rabbits have wreaked new havoc on oh, so many plants (I’m running out of hardware cloth and row covers). As soon as I protect one bed, they move on to another. And there are more rabbits all the time. The best strategy could be to permanently fence in most or all of the beds.
But the rabbits haven’t eaten all of the plants.
In section B, poroporo or kangaroo apple (Solanum aviculare) from Australia and New Zealand, is a new addition to the garden. It is filling a visual void left by the granny vine (Ipomoea tricolor) which didn’t recover from rabbit grazing in late spring. In a few months, these tender shrubs have already grown from seeds to almost five feet and they have been flowering all summer. Their unripe fruit are toxic to humans but a source of steroids used in medicine, and the fully ripe fruit are supposed to be edible. I’ll report back after trying one, assuming they ripen.
In section C, this pepino (Solanum muricatum) is flowering, yet the plant is quite small. Fingers crossed that it produces fruit this summer.
A few feet away, the naranjilla (Solanum quitoense) looks like it wants to get bigger before flowering, more like the tamarillo (Solanum betaceum), in the same bed.
The cornelian cherries (Cornus mas) have had a prolific fruit year. This tree is on the edge of section C.
Consumer opinion polls aren’t all in yet, but it’s going to be called either opuntiagranate or pomopuntia, this cross between Opuntia cactus (Opuntia spp.) and pomegranate (Punica granatum). It’s still in the development stage but look for it on your better produce market shelves in the not-so-near future. Just kidding; someone impaled a spent pomegranate bloom on an Opuntia engelmannii spine. It looks good there.
There’s a gardening book entitled, Right Plant, Right Place. It was written and is popular because it’s quite easy to plant the right plant in the wrong place, either through ignorance or stubbornness (or even, perhaps, new conditions arising from climate change).
In this case it’s pure stubbornness. I want capers (Capparis spinosa)
to grow outside, unprotected in the Medicinal Herb Garden. And they do grow…from the base of the last year’s winter-damaged stumps. There probably is a place that would work. Maybe the xeriscape bed next year. It can’t be much worse than this spot where a woebegone specimen stands about four inches tall.
Cockscomb (Celosia cristata) plants have been untouched by rabbits, though I probably just jinxed them. Other plants in the Amaranthacea have not fared so well. Maybe it’s some sort of ancestral fear that rabbits have of roosters. Roosters are up there with clowns on my fear-inspiring index. They’ll peck the toes off your feet if given the chance.
Quite photogenic, the eastern cottontail (Sylvilagus floridanus) always looks good as filler in the fauna section. They’re so trusting these days, since I stopped throwing my pruners at them, that it’s easy to get close.
Practically hopped up and asked for a scratch on the ears. Doh! You nibbling little varmint.
Raccoons in relentless pursuit of the perfect place to nap. The crows weren’t happy but they got bored after a while.
The rabbit-exclusion screens create interesting shadows in the morning light.
Shadows of Chinese angelica (Angelica sinensis), a plant label sign and an irrigation spout in section A
Once again, a couple of heron fledglings (Ardea herodias) wound up on the ground, one injured and the other just stuck. The injured bird was rescued but the healthy one saw an opportunity…
and made its way through some bushes…
up a nearby pine tree to a point where it could gain enough loft to get back to the nest. All this while one of the parents made regular flights low over the area, obviously looking for its lost offspring. The extreme effort to gain some height and get back to the nest is not something I’ve seen before. Usually a fledgling on the ground is a dead bird walking unless it is rescued.
Black and yellow mud dauber wasp (Sceliphron caementarium) gathering mud near section D. They are very tolerant of camera lenses though they seem to prefer being left alone. When I got too close, this one flattened itself against the ground and stared at me, waiting for me to leave I’m sure. So I left.
Katydids, possibly the drumming katydid here (Meconema thalassinum) aren’t abundant in Seattle so it’s kind of thrilling to see one now and then. This species, if I’ve correctly identified it, is from Europe and has made its way here by some mysterious channel. I’ve seen two this year.
Western tiger swallowtail (Papilio rutulus). So far, the Lorquin’s admirals (Limenitis lorquinii) have either been absent or I’ve missed them in the garden. But the swallowtails showed up on schedule.
Well, they’re not loved by most humans, but bald faced hornets (Dolichovespula maculata) are surprisingly docile when they’re not protecting their nest, especially when they’re sipping flower nectar. Alas, this unfortunate colony built its nest just above head height in section F. I lobbied for their right to exist but the risk was too great so they were exterminated. We’ve faced the same dilemma at the Beacon Food Forest. and the hornets and wasps usually lose if human safety is at risk. It’s hard to argue with that logic in densely populated urban spaces.
Bumblebee, possibly the yellow-faced bumblebee (Bombus vosnesenskii) on the great blue lobelia (Lobelia siphilitica) in section B. For anyone who hasn’t read The Insect World of J. Henri Fabre, you should if you are interested in insects and natural history and close observation and, above all, the lost art of patience. This wonderful work is edited by Edwin Way Teale, one of the truly great natural history writers of the 20th century.
glowing emerald
through billow of smokey haze
katydid lantern
See you in the garden.