On the waterfront

I recently had the good fortune of experiencing two of my favorite things: spending a few days in the company of a nearly lifelong friend, and accomplishing our reunion in the peaceful setting of beautful Lake George in upstate New York.

This lake is special to me, since I have spent every summer of my life on its shores, in its refreshingly clear water, and hiking its surrounding mountains.  Nearly every excursion up to the lake involves some sort of activity, be it swimming, boating, fishing, gardening, or even renovating our modest lake house.  But this trip was different.  Reconnecting with an old friend was, for me, a time to look inward.  Rather than focusing on the area itself, and the myriad activities we usually engage in, the lake acted more like a backdrop to warm conversations, casual strolls in which we recounted times from our long-ago college days, constant laughter, and observations about our lives--and life in general.

Thinking back on our time together, exchanging family news, reminiscing, and sharing our plans and dreams for the future, I realize how vital our setting was.  How the sound of crickets lulled us to sleep at night, and how the early-morning call of birds gently woke us up.  The night sky, strewn with endless stars, and the sun setting spectacularly over the mountain range added a lovely dimension to our friendly retreat.

And while it's true that good friends can gather anywhere and enjoy themselves, there's something soul-satisfying to finding a place of natural beauty in which to reunite.  It adds immeasurably to the experience.  So, this Labor Day weekend, find a peaceful place to share with a friend, even if it's only a cup of tea while sitting beside your backyard pond.  Take the time--even a little bit of it--to savor the good things in life, like nature's bounty and the blessing of friendship.   Like the summer season itself, life seems to pass so quickly.  Enjoy the here and now.

The beast within this beauty

 



New York is among a handful of states experiencing a problem of expanding proportion: Heracleum mantegazzianum.  Hercules...what? What's that?  A lovely looking plant?  Well, what's the problem?  First of all, let's call it by its not-so-pretty name: hogweed.  Sounds nasty, right?  It is.

Hogweed is a plant of gargantuan size--8-14 feet tall--but here's the rub: it's pretty.  And beauty draws us in, summoning us to come closer.  A member of the carrot family, introduced here more than a hundred years ago by Europeans as an ornamental, it looks like a large version of Queen Anne's Lace.  It's impressive head of flat, dazzling white flowers, which can span two-feet across, paired with its mythical size, can easily entice.  But below this beguiling blossom is a thick stem chock full of toxins that can burn and scar skin--and even cause blindness to those unfortunate enough to get its sap in their eyes.  The burns are severe--causing painful blistering, and even blackened skin tone, leading to scarring. 

Don't be fooled by sweeter-sounding names, like the innocuous "cow parsnip," this plant embodies the stuff of childhood nightmares.  Think Snow White's evil queen--seemingly the "fairest of them all," yet, just like the poison apple concealed in her skirt, the tainted sap that seeps from crushed and broken stems, leaves and seed heads can be harmful to an unsuspecting visitor, plucking the plant.

If there's a moral to this cautionary tale, it's look but don't touch.  Not that it will harm those who accidentally brush up against it.  In order for the sap to do harm, it must have somewhat sustained contact with moist skin (such as a sweaty hand touching the stem), and an abundance of sunlight, which appears to trigger the devastating chain reaction.   If you do come in contact with it, wash thoroughly with cold water and dish detergent to get rid of the sap. 

By far, the worst thing you can do is ignore this plant.  From a safe distance, snap a few pictures, and send them to the DEC: ghogweed@gw.dec.state.ny.us. so they can send out a crew to get rid of the threat.  You can also call the "hogweed hotline" at 845-256-3111.



  

Where have all the flowers gone?

Those of us in the northeastern U.S. have suffered a noticeable void in our flower gardens this season:  the lack of colorful hydrangea blooms: those massive, vibrant blossoms of blue, pink, violet and purple seem to be missing from the landscape.  Ironically, the green foliage of these plants looks better than ever, but the buds have gone missing.

Sadly, our harsh winter is to blame.  Unfortunately, the unseasonably cold winter temperatures killed the tender buds of H. macrophylla, AKA bigleaf hydrangea, which produce the colorful pinkish-to-blueish oversize, ball-shaped mophead (Hortensia) or lacecap--airy, flat blossoms which lay like a delicate cap over the green foliage.  Winter's harsh hand also destroyed the buds of H. quercifolia--the Oakleaf hydrangea, with buds that turn from white to pinkish, to brown, and have foliage shaped like oak leaves--and the tender blossoms of climbing hydrangea vines.  Because these blooms are all produced on what is known as "old wood"--existing shrub branches--they can fall victim to killing frosts.

How I miss the billowy blossoms, and old-fashioned charm that hydrangeas add to the garden. I miss the beguiling blues, perky pinks, luscious lavender, and romantic rose shades—sometimes all blooming on the same plant!  As many of us know, the colors of  these showstoppers are produced as a result of the availability of aluminum ions in the soil. Acidic soils with a pH of less than 5.5 produce blue flowers; soils with a pH greater than 5.5 product pink flowers.


Since we can never know what next winter will bring, I'm hedging my bets--and taking extra care to frost-proof (or at least frost-protect) my plants this fall.  I plan on covering the ground around the hydrangeas with at least 18 inches of leaves (though pine bark, pine needles or straw also work well). If at all possible, I'll cover entire plants--tips included--in homemade cages crafted out of snow fencing or chicken wire, and loosely filling the cages with leaves (but never  maple leaves--they mat and hold ice in).

Another way to ensure our yards are graced with the enduring beauty of hydrangeas every year, regardless of the previous winter's weather, is to choose varieties that bloom on "new wood:" this year's stems.  Among these type of hydrangea are: H. paniculata (panicle hydrangea), hardy to Zone 3 and boasting plump, cone-shaped flower heads. The most common cultivar is 'Grandiflora', or P.G. (PeeGee) after its initials, a big old-fashioned floppy shrub that is 10 to 15 feet tall; and H. arborescens (smooth hydrangeas), which produce "snowballs" which flower reliably to Zone 3. The flowers look like oversized white-flowered pop-poms. The best cultivars include, 'Grandiflora' and 'Annabelle' which produce large blooms in late summer.  All these hydrangeas have white blooms.  Mine look especially lovely when paired with dwarf Buxus (boxwood) in front, and a privet hedge behind:

 

Dead in the Water

Looks can be deceiving. It's a well-worn phrase, but the reason it's so often used is because, well, it's one of those cliches that applies to many facets of life, in myriad forms. In this particular case, I use it to point to the beauty and breath-taking wonder of the waterways in my great state of New York. But looks can be deceiving.

How so? Because, the human quest for perfection is often counter to Mother Nature's. As I sit on my front porch, viewing the sparkle of a shimmering lake through the pine trees across the street, I am reminded of the sign I photographed at the end of my road:

We have all pretty much heard about how the universal quest for a perfect lawn is adversely affecting the health of the water we all admire and enjoy. How fertilizers drain into nearby waterways during rain storms, and somehow manage to do harm. Admit it, many of us say, “yeah, right,” or “whatever.” Maybe it's a bit of a problem, but it's not really our individual problem. Our grass looks great, while those tree huggers out there gripe about our Earth's demise. They bandy about words like algae blooms and organic alternatives. Blah, blah, blah. More lunatics on their soapboxes championing yet another environmental cause. Sadly, this attitude of “mind numb” has manifested itself in a new reality: dead water.

Did that term give you pause? I don't know about you, but anything that's supposed to be alive that is now termed “dead” usually makes me sit up and listen. So what is it...and what's the lawn fertilizer/dead zone connection? A quick primer: The nutrients in the synthetic fertilizers we've adored since the mid-twentieth century are chock-full of nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium in just the right combinations to create the weed-free lawn of our collective dreams. Better living through chemicals, right? Yet the “nutrients” so beneficial to grass hurts the Earth far more than it aids grass. For anyone rolling their eyes right now, tired of hearing about how fertilizers are harmful and disbelieving all the bad press, here's the problem in a nutshell: all that “good stuff” in fertilizers, AKA those above-mentioned nutrients that make grass healthy and strong—do their job incredibly well. They are especially adept at feeding algae, which marine life feed on. But too much of a good thing...well you know how that goes. Algae blooms in every nook and cranny of the underwater world, thriving in far greater numbers than the underwater life that can feed on it. When the algae dies, it sinks to the bottom of waterways and its decomposition process actually removes oxygen from the soil. We all need oxygen to live, so no oxygen means no life. The result: dead zones.

The irony is not lost on me. Who enjoys lush greenery more than I, author of a gardening blog? Grass, like other plants, provides a wonderful addition to our lives. It filters pollution, prevents soil erosion, keeps the ground cool, and feels so darn nice under bare feet. But perfect, weedless lawns that look more like wall-to-wall carpeting are not only expensive and time-consuming to achieve and maintain, but tell me honestly: does it really look all that good to you? Or have you, like so many others believed the hype that this is what a lawn must look like...or, why bother? We upstaters are not the only ones facing this dilemma. The lakes, rivers, streams and ponds all throughout New York and every other state in this nation are facing this dilemma. An article last month in The New York Post highlighted the growing “dead water” issue, stating, “Those perfectly manicured, brilliantly green lawns that surround many Hamptons mansions are contributing to the destruction of marine life on Long Island.” It adds a quote from a Save the Great South Bay activist: “The polluted groundwater is systematically killing all our bays, ponds and rivers by triggering massive algal blooms...choking sea life, poisoning shellfish. The only thing left would be jellyfish.”

We need, if you'll pardon the bad pun, a sea-change in our thinking. Let's give all nature's plants a chance to astonish us with their intrinsic beauty. Do we need sweeping front lawns of grass? If so, why? What are we trying to prove to others—and--ourselves--by spending an abundance of our time, money and effort to produce spans of outdoor greenery that looks like carpet, and makes our blood boil when the neighbor's dog takes a dump on it?

When we bought a little Adirondack “camp” more than a dozen years ago, we had no front lawn. As I gazed at the expanse of periwinkle stretching along the entire front yard, where I deemed a healthy span of grass should reside, I immediately decided to have a ton of fill dumped over the area so I could spread my grass seed. Then spring came, and the periwinkle bloomed. I was surrounded by a field of vivid purple blossoms, making my jaw drop, and all thought of grass blades vanish. We've since planted perennial beds around the perimeter of the periwinkle, and I love the effect.

If you can't give up your grass addiction, take a few tips from the Scientific American: “Go organic, both at home and on the farm. According to the Organic Trade Association, organic farmers and gardeners use composted manure and other natural materials, as well as crop rotation, to help improve soil fertility, rather than synthetic fertilizers that can result in an overabundance of nutrients. As a result, these practices protect ground water supplies and avoid runoff of chemicals that can cause dead zones and poisoned aquatic life. There is now a large variety of organic fertilizer available commercially, as well as many ways to keep pests at bay without resorting to harsh synthetic chemicals. A wealth of information on growing greener can be found online: Check out OrganicGardeningGuru.com and the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s Alternative Farming System Information Center, for starters. Those interested in face-to-face advice should consult with a master gardener at a local nursery that specializes in organic gardening.”

It's no longer difficult to find alternative options. We've got to band together on this one, folks. If each of us took one baby step--discard one bag of synthetic fertilizer or mix a few bags of compost or manure into the soil—great strides could be made.

Veggie tales

Nothing speaks to me of summer quite as resoundingly as a vegetable garden patch.  Be it humble or Herculean, there's just something primal and comforting about nourishment sprung from the ground--from nothing more than a scattering of minute seeds.  Those of us lucky enough to have our own vegetable gardens in the northeastern U.S., have enjoyed a season's worth of the best lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers and corn I can recall in years.  The unique combination of abundant sunshine, fairly regular intervals of rain, and cooler-than-usual temperatures have provided the winning combination that farmers--pros and novices alike--spent the previous season praying for.  How nice when wishes are granted!

Don't have your own veggie garden?  No need to despair.  Enterprising folks have produced plenty of, well, produce for you, too.  And finding a stash of your favorite garden treats is as easy as checking out your local paper for a farmers' market near you.  Or go online, to www.localharvest.org/farmers'-market.  Incorporating maps into the site, users simply type in their home address, which directs them to the local map for their area.

According to the localharvest website, "farmers' markets are one of the oldest forms of direct marketing by small farmers. From the traditional "mercados" in the Peruvian Andes to the unique street markets in Asia, growers all over the world gather weekly to sell their produce directly to the public. In the last decade they have become a favorite marketing method for many farmers throughout the United States, and a weekly ritual for many shoppers.  In a farmers' market, a group of farmers sell their products once or twice a week at a designated public place like a park or parking lot. Some farmers' markets have live entertainment. Shopping at a farmers' market is a great way to meet local farmers and get fresh, flavorful produce."

A lot of businesses are getting in on a good thing, and booths for products other than produce are sprouting up. While strolling through my local farmer's market last summer, I actually met a representative from a utility company offering "green" energy (in this case, power derived almost entirely from harnessing the wind).  I decided to give the company a try, and am happy to report that my electric bills have decreased this year by about 13%. 

Innovation comes in many forms.  Some friends of mine have taken the farmers' market theme down a notch, infused it with some good 'ole-fashioned nostalgia, and a hefty helping of fun, to create their own roadside stand.  Complete with carved signs, an "honor-system" cash box like we recall from days (long) gone by, and the ripest, lushest produce in town, "The Stand" has quickly become my favorite hangout when I'm up in the Adirondacks.  Not only do they offer fresh produce, picked daily, but they make bread and mouth-watering molasses cookies "on the reg," and have a variety of unusual fare, such as maple syrup and butter (yup, they make it themselves), pickled relish and spicy salsa!  Up until last week they even had farm-fresh eggs, produced by chickens who resided down the road.  Unfortunately, a wily fox spirited a few hens away, prompting the owners to dispense with said fox--only to make conditions optimal for a hostile takeover by a gang of raccoons.  Now those hens are history, as are the fluffier-than-clouds eggs they produced.  The neighbors want to take up a collection to buy more chicks, and I'd personally patrol the coops for another taste of those farm-fresh beauties!  But that's a tale for another day.  Stay tuned!

New buzz about bees

In my ongoing effort to give bees (especially native bees) their due, I thought it might be fun to explore some little-known bee facts:

1.  Bees are excellent recyclers! Two species of leafcutter bee found a good use for plastic: as nest-building material. Bees in Toronto were observed using plastic bag pieces, and even bits of polyurethane sealant, to create their homes. As I've discussed, unlike some honeybees, North American natives, like leafcutters, don't build hives, but instead stitch their houses together out of whatever is available.  Plant material is their typical fabric of choice, but bees are quite resourceful, and when plastic is plentiful, they'll make good use of it--they even cut the plastic pieces differently than they would plant materials.

2.  Bees get a buzz from caffeine.  According to a study published in the journal, "Science," caffeine in the nectar of coffee and citrus flowers gives honeybees a jolt, similar to what we get after we drink a cup of java.  It also sharpens their memory.  A good way to remember which flowers are tastiest!  And that's important, because...

3.  Bees are suckers for sweets!  Like us, bees crave flavor, and their fondness for sweets can rival our own--particularly plants that are chock-full of sugar-laced nectar. But instead of a sweet tooth, bees have a sweet claw. Researchers witnessed the phenomenon when they applied sugars, salts and bitter solutions to bees' legs, and watched what happened.  Bees stuck out their tongues whenever their claws touched the sweet stuff (similar to us licking our lips when we bite into a piece of chocolate!).

"Bee" on the lookout for more about these phenomenal 'bee-ings" in upcoming posts--and follow my progress on "Project Pollinate," my grassroots effort to build and distribute nests for native bees.  Bad puns aside, I invite you to join me in a fictional account of these amazing creatures; I've just begun reading Laline Paull's "The Bees," about Flora 717, the bee version of "a dazzling young heroine who will forever change the way you look at the world outside your window." Sounds intriguing, right?  I'm drawn to it like bees to honey....