It’s been a while. The last post was way back in July. Still thinking about that heatwave. On our hottest day ever recorded, we reached 108°F on June 28. And it stayed hot, over 100°F for a long time, too long, in my opinion. Now we have had our wettest meteorological fall on record, 19.04 inches from September 1 through November 30. Floods have devastated towns north of here all the way up into British Columbia. Fingers crossed we don’t have the coldest or snowiest winter but all bets are off with emerging weather patterns. Throw in a shape-shifting pandemic and it is turning out to be an interesting second decade of this emerging century.
Where to begin? Let’s start with some garden fauna. Flora without fauna is sad flora indeed.
Back in early August, while weeding a bed in section C, movement on the ground caught my eye; a great golden digger wasp (Sphex ichneumoneus) was heading into the tunnel it was excavating.
It backed out of the tunnel, pulling up soil and scattering it behind, a bit like a dog would do. After stinging and paralyzing its insect quarry (katydid, grasshopper, cricket etc.) and dragging it into one of the several cells built in the tunnel, it will lay an egg on its prey. When the egg hatches, the larva will feed on the paralyzed insect, then stay in its cell in the tunnel until emerging (with its fellow larvae from their cells) the following summer. So weed your garden and pay attention; you never know what you might see.
Behold the work of Viburnum leaf beetles (Pyrrhalta viburni) on the arrowwood (Viburnum dentatum). The beetles are in the center of the photo and they look an awful lot like the early models of the Volkswagen Beetle. Some Viburnum species were nearly defoliated and others, like the parking lot landscape Viburnums (V. davidii and V. tinus), were untouched. Maybe the thicker, evergreen foliage helped protect them. That said, the Viburnum tinus along Stevens Way is currently covered with greenhouse thrips (Heliothrips haemorrhoidalis) which seem to prefer broadleaf evergreens.
The insect world is endlessly fascinating but the connection when interacting with mammals at close quarters has something of communion about it.
The raccoon (Procyon lotor) twins mucking around in the Cascara Circle bog. One kept making the high trilling noise that young raccoons make when they’re nervous. The other seemed unconcerned that I was watching them, until…
…it forgot I was there while it was leaving the bog, only to suddenly spot me. I guess the linebacker pose is what passes for looking big and scary to a young raccoon. Actually, it’s not unheard of for them to make a bluff charge toward a perceived threat. That borderline menace adds some excitement to encounters in the garden. They have the darnedest way of popping out of the shrubbery when you least expect it. The good news is that raccoons are not known to carry rabies in Washington. In fact the only mammals around here that do carry rabies are bats and it is very rare (Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife says “less than one bat in 20,000 has rabies”).
Once again, the canopy of the woods at the northeast corner of the garden was quiet this year. The blue herons (Ardea herodias) are gone. Maybe they found a better place to nest. But a barred owl is back. It seems to prefer the same patch of woods formerly used by the herons. As new buildings arise, the woods on campus are dwindling. Where the fruit forest used to be, I would frequently see a red-breasted sapsucker (Sphyrapicus ruber) working its way up the giant Siberian elm (Ulmus pumila) and the majestic black walnut (Juglans nigra). That little patch of forest is now a parking lot, better habitat for dumpster divers and trash pickers like gulls, pigeons and crows.
A barred owl (Strix varia) has been around for at least a couple months. It can usually be found in one of the wooded areas around the garden. Listen for the alarm calls of crows and jays and you might find the barred owl perched nearby, stoically enduring the corvid interference.
And what about the fungus? The ground was dry for so long, and that heat, too much. Not good for the porcini though I did find one nice button, clean as a whistle. Some of the less picky mushrooms have shown up with the cold rain.
The shaggy mane clan (Coprinus comatus) came for a brief visit to the edge of the garden in early December.
After being trounced by aphids for several years, the tough little American plum tree (Prunus americana) finally recovered a bit this year and produced a half dozen fruit. Assuming the seeds germinate, I’m starting six more plants for the garden’s borders. The seeds are in the process of cold stratification right now.
The spiked ginger lily (Hedychium spicatum) in section A has proven extremely hardy so far. It flowered abundantly this summer and produced fruit which look like…
…this when ripe. And like many herbaceous perennials…
…the aerial parts die back and the plants disappear underground for winter.
The olives (Olea europea) have gotten bigger as the olive trees have matured north of section A.
Fall color in canyon grape (Vitis arizonica) leaves on vines that have run up into the leafless, nearby chaste tree (Vitex agnus-castus). In the center background is an atlas cedar (Cedrus atlantica) and to the right is a Japanese umbrella pine (Sciadopitys verticillata) which is doing much better since some large, overhanging branches from the atlas cedar broke off and opened up a lot more light. The Japanese umbrella pine is the sole representative of its family, the Sciadopitaceae, so not a true pine from the genus Pinus in the family Pinaceae. But who’s counting?
A few yards from the canyon grape are flowers and immature fruit of the balloon plant (Physocarpus capitatus) from South Africa. They have faded by now but you can see them at this stage next July/August.
Mi meng hua (Buddleja officinalis), a Chinese native, is a fairly recent addition to the garden and it is flowering right now. Supposedly it is more or less evergreen though deciduous in the northern part of its range. Time will tell how it does in Seattle. The flowers are scented like many of its relatives in the Buddlejaceae, aka the butterfly bush family. Extracts from the flowers are used in some skin care products.
Ju hua (Chrysanthemum morifolium) in section D. It starts flowering in late autumn. If you’ve ever tried Chrysanthemum tea or any of the canned tea drinks on the shelves of most food stores in Seattle’s Chinatown-International District (or wherever you get your food products from the Far East) it was probably some variety of this flower infusing your beverage.
Mild winters have allowed the many small Australian tea trees (Melaleuca alternifolia) around sections A and B to prosper for the last couple years. Feel free to run your fingers over their foliage to release the essence of tea tree oil.
South American native lemon verbena (Aloysia citriodora) in section A has become a big shrub, five feet tall and wide. That’s because we haven’t had a really cold winter in recent years to knock it back. If you need a quick dose of aromatherapy, rub up against it and your clothes will be lemon-scented all day.
Two of the more photogenic garden plants in winter, the bluish green honey flower (Melianthus major) and the Chinese ground orchid or bai ji (Bletilla striata) whose seed pods and zigzag-jointed stems have a sculptural quality that stands out as their leaves fall away in winter. Extract from Bletilla rhizome is used as an astringent hemostatic agent. In other words it helps to control bleeding. Pictured is part of the little border bed to the west of section E.
Soap plant or amole (Chlorogalum pomeridianum) senesced after a season’s growth and flowering, only to reemerge from its brief dormancy by November. It sows its seeds freely…
…maybe too freely. These seedlings are emerging among the spiny pads of plains prickly pear (Opuntia polyacantha) in the xeriscape bed. And they can stay right there. Soap plant’s name relates to the use of its leaves and underground bulbs which are crushed to release a soapy substance that is effective on delicate fabrics or as a skin or hair cleanser.
Nearby in section B, the festive and ornamental seedpods of chuan dang (Codonopsis tangshen) dangle from their tripod trellis all winter. Chuan dang is a member of the Campanulaceae, the bellflower family. Both the flowers and seed pods resemble bells. Several species of Codonopsis are considered important tonic herbs in traditional Chinese medicine, and three of them grow in the garden. The other two are C. pilosula and C. lanceolata. They’re often referred to as poor man’s ginseng because they are an easier plant to grow in an average garden. True ginseng (Panax spp.) is pretty fussy and naturally grows as an understory plant in hardwood forests (both in eastern Asia and eastern North America), though commercial growers mimic the overstory shade with screens of all kinds. Ginseng belongs to the Araliacae, the same plant family as English ivy (Hedera helix). Strange but true. Wouldn’t it be great if ivy were as hard to grow and expensive as ginseng.
In section D, hanging from a bamboo tripod trellis, a seedpod of swallow wort (Vincetoxicum hirundinaria), yet another in a long list of Eurasian plants in the garden. It has been used as a diuretic, diaphoretic and emetic. Its status as an emetic is recognized in another common name, German ipecac.
The seeds took forever to germinate and the young plants just sat there for a few years, but the ba qia or Chinaroot (Smilax china) in section E, a tonic herb from eastern Asia, has finally come into its own. It has not produced fruit yet but when it does, the mature fruit should turn red.
The vines began to cascade downward after topping out at the apex of their trellis, giving it the look of a Smilax staircase. Many perennial vines are a bit unruly and not ideally suited to formal garden beds. They make their escape, one way or another. The nearby wu wei zi or five-flavor-fruit vine (Schisandra chinensis) has grown up into the overhanging hawthorn (Crataegus sp.), fulfilling its mission as a vine. I probably won’t be able to harvest any fruit from the vines but that’s a small price to pay.
Storm damage to one of the oaks (Quercus robur) between section C and the Chemistry building. The standing portion of the tree will eventually be removed.
The miniature fruit forest between Cascara Circle and Benson Hall is creeping westward. I cut and rolled up the sod, pictured to the left of the bare ground, and will add chips soon. The plum trees (Prunus domestica) needed room for their roots to expand into some looser, richer soil and I will plant more Chilean guavas (Ugni molinae) along the edge. Like the rest of this garden, and every garden, it is now and always will be a work in progress.
On August 5, the chaste tree (Vitex agnus-castus) was still flowering. On a typical summer day, the Medicinal Herb Garden resembles a busy airport in miniature. There are constant incoming and outgoing flights of pollinator insects.
But the flowers and leaves are mostly gone in the garden by December. It’s time to turn our attention to the leaf and flower buds. There are many excellent books on identifying woody plants in winter. Do yourself a favor and get one. It is a new horizon to explore, especially during a pandemic. What a great way to spend a winter day, wandering the local parks, forests, yards. There are trees and shrubs everywhere. These buds belong to the northeast Asian tonic herb, Siberian ginseng (Eleutherococcus senticosus) in section E
If one tree could represent the land around Puget Sound, a likely choice would be the red cedar (Thuja plicata), a larger western relative of the white cedar or arborvitae (Thuja occidentalis) of eastern to central Canada and US. This tree is in the wooded edge of section D.
Here’s a link to Native American Ethnobotany Database listing some of the historical uses of red cedar by Pacific Northwest Native Americans. http://naeb.brit.org/uses/search/?string=thuja+plicata
Red cedar branch and…
a seed cone and…
a seed cone next to a Douglas fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii) seed cone for size comparison.
In addition to Cascara Circle, an area of the garden devoted exclusively to Pacific Northwest native plants, the rest of the garden, including the wooded border areas, holds many other regional plants traditionally used by Pacific Northwest native peoples for medicine, fiber, dye, building material, ceremonies and purification rituals. There are also edible plants like huckleberry, serviceberry, salal, thimbleberry, currants, roses, camas, wild onions, lily and brodiaea and fritillary bulbs, wapato, American plums, nettles, Pacific crabapples; the list goes on and on. Maybe you will take a break on one of the garden’s many benches as you investigate the native plants. Give yourself a little time to pause for an imaginative journey to picture what this land was like in the not-so-distant past, before streets and cars and bridges, grocery stores and tall buildings. Ancient forests, meadows, prairies, rivers and wetlands stretched as far as the eye could see. The native plants, the animals that lived here: elk and deer and wolves, black bears and grizzlies, wolverines, fishers and sea otters; the croaking calls of ravens that echoed through the hills; a vast array of shellfish that lined the edges of the Salish Sea, and the almost mythically dense aggregations of the five iconic salmon species whose struggling survivors still swim the once-clean waters; these were all integral to the daily lives and stories of people living here for thousands of years. Landscapes from the mountain slopes to the saltwater were alive, familiar and intimate. We will not know that intimacy again. Who among them could have imagined that, in less than two centuries, the superabundance of natural treasures that had sustained them for millennia would be so easily squandered by us newcomers. In the clear light of the twenty-first century, a deeper reckoning of the complex and ambiguous idea of progress still awaits our honest and thoughtful exploration.
If you regularly visit the garden you might (hopefully) notice that there is more light shining in some formerly shady places. I limbed up a lot of trees, cut down some trees and large shrubs and pulled the last thin strip of ivy on the wooded border of section D, adjacent to the woods. Those woods, known as Island Grove, are being rehabilitated by UW student members of the Society for Ecological Restoration (SER). They have pulled so much ivy, literally tons of the stuff, and removed other invasive plants, planted natives, added wood chips and helped to keep new plants watered. If you see them working out there, please thank them for their efforts. The transformation is amazing. Let’s hope they are inspired to work on other parts of campus.
The latest update on garden rabbits (Sylvilagus floridanus) is that all of the exclusion fences have made good neighbors of them. Most of what they like to eat has been fenced off with hardware cloth. The rabbits still nibble at the edges of the garden and sometimes either alter their tastes or new rabbits with different tastes enter the scene and I have to fence off plants that were formerly untouched. That will be an ongoing duty. Also, in winter there is much more damage to the trunks and branches of woody plants because there is less foliage for rabbits to eat. At this point they are barely a minor nuisance in the garden. Hopefully the hardware cloth screens aren’t too distracting. In my experience so far, garden visitors don’t seem to mind.
Ok, that’s the news. Enjoy your winter solstice.
hottest and wettest
dubious superlatives
for weather reports
See you in the garden.