Insect idols

Just the other day I happened upon what I think is the most fascinating of insects: the Praying Mantis.  Not only because its shape and posture is so intriguing, but because it's so rare in upstate New York.  Actually, I can recall only a few encounters with these interesting invertebrates throughout the years.

I know there are thousands of species of Praying Mantis worldwide, but most of them live in tropical places, so the few hardy types who brave our cooler climate should be commended, right?  I think most New Yorkers would agree.  In fact, I doubt areas of the globe which claim large indigenous populations of these critters would afford them the deference that we do in the Northeastern United States.

A few years ago I ran across a group of ordinary looking adults doing something that didn't appear very normal: squatting together in a Pet Smart parking lot, all staring at the pavement.  As I made progress toward my car, I had to--reluctantly--pass them.   Loaded down, as I was, with rabbit food, timothy hay, specialty puppy chow, and dog treats, I knew I'd not be able to move away from the odd-looking group with anything approaching swiftness, so I kept a wary eye on them.  Turns out, I needn't have worried: the caring group was trying to coax a praying mantis away from the traffic traversing the lot, and onto the nearby grass.  I deposited my bags in my car trunk, and joined the effort.  That's when I discovered that the critters don't like to move very fast--at least that one didn't.  I've also reflected on the divine providence that guided that little guy to an area full of animal lovers.  Turns out, lots of people keep praying mantises as pets.

The one I saw the other day was on the glass window of an office building (above), and since temperatures around these parts have been a bit nippy lately, I thought it a clever way for an insect to soak up the sun's rays to stay warm.  I peered at the fella, and he looked right back, which made me smile.  I've never before studied a bug that appeared to be studying me just as intensely.  That got me thinking about these unique creatures, which prompted me to learn more about them.  Here's five fun things I discovered:

1.  They can turn their heads 180 degrees (that's how the little bugger was able to angle his head my way, and give me the once-over).
2.  Anatomically, they are closely related to cockroaches (a fact I'd like to forget, since the roach is my least favorite insect).
3.  The two most common species of praying mantis in my area are: Chinese mantis, and European mantis, both introduced to the Northeast at the beginning of the 20th-Century.
4.  The deceptively angelic-looking "praying arms" are actually covered in rapier-sharp spines, which are useful in trapping, and holding other bugs during mealtimes.
5.  Perhaps they should be called "Preying Mantis," since they eat any kind of bug they encounter (including their mating partners!).  For this reason, it is unwise to introduce them to your garden as a means of  "organically" controlling pests.  Praying Mantises make no distinction between beneficial and harmful bugs, which could upset the delicate balance of your garden's ecosystem. 

Simple ways to keep frost at bay

By mid-October, night-time temperatures drop below freezing, and it's pretty difficult to keep annuals thriving in my upstate New York garden.  The paradox is, of course, that as the perennial flowers fade, it's key to have the tender plants, and their profusion of blooms, in place in order to keep my outdoor spaces popping with color, and vitality.  Is there a way to protect these delicate plants enough to prolong the life of the garden?  You bet there is, and it's easier than I could have imagined.

Obviously, a little TLC goes a long way in preserving annuals.  Moving plants indoors or covering them with sheets or plastic is still the best way to ensure their survival, but what I discovered is that I have so many annuals on my property that it was taking me an hour to cover and transport the plants.  I had no desire to dedicate that kind of time to the cause every single day, so I discovered a better way: water.

Though it may seem counterintuitive, water is the cornerstone to keeping large quantities of annual plants from damaging frost.  Here's how:

One of the reasons plants and fruits are damaged or killed by cold temperatures is that the cold draws essential moisture from inside the plants, effectively freeze-drying them.  Spraying plants with water before a frost gives the plants the opportunity to stock up on their supply, becoming more resistant to the effects of dehydration.  Spraying or misting your plants also leaves a coating of water on the outside of the plant. When this turns to ice, it can insulate the plant from the cold.

                     

The colder it gets on the surface of the leaf, the more damage is done to the plant. A coating of ice keeps the temperature on the surface of the leaf to the freezing point of water or slightly below. The plant will only need to withstand temperatures of 30 to 32 Fahrenheit even if air temperatures drop further. 

Didn't get a chance to hose down your annuals before the temperatures dipped below freezing?  No worries!  Simply set your alarm for an early-morning hour before the sun rises, and douse the plants at that time.  The effect will be the same.  It's vital to water them before sunrise though--when the sun hits the frost-laden leaves, the water expands and damages the plant tissue, so hosing the frost off prevents a lot of damage.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                  

 

Green Giants

Sometimes bigger really is better.  I think such a case can be made for the Northeastern fall garden.  We're just hitting peak "leaf-peeping" color around these parts, so the waning flowers have a lot of competition from the riot of red, yellow, gold and orange literally swirling around them.  Only a show of strength will divert attention, and garner admiring glances their way.  Fortunately there's a wide array of larger-than-life blossoms available in autumn that offer needed reinforcement to ailing flowerbeds, ensuring your garden looks simply sensational throughout the season.

The easiest way to go on the offensive: stock outdoor spaces with impressive annuals, such as the dahlia, shown above.  Flower heads are downright Jurassic, demanding that garden visitors stop and stare at their startling size.  Closer inspection reveals intricate blossoms of origami appeal in an assortment of colors.  Some hybrids that offer the most bang for the buck:  'Pride of Belgium,' and 'Apple blossom."  For best results, stake the plants in early summer to help support the large flower heads, and you can enjoy these stunners through mid October.  Before the first frost of the season, pop out the tubers and store them in a cool, frost-free spot (Like a garage or basement).

Proven perennials with everlasting appeal include my beloved Hibiscus moscheutos, (my favorite, 'Lord Baltimore," right).  As I've often mentioned, this versatile hardy hibiscus adds large dollops of color (in red, white or pink) to an otherwise fading fall garden.  Other autumn must-haves that have a big impact: any combination of cultivars from the daisy-like family of Helenium (sneezeweed) paired with similarly-named Helianthus (willow sunflower).  Helianthus salicifolius is particularly interesting because it's the size of the foliage that's impressive--growing up to 10 feet tall!  Laden with abundant blooms, this plant provides bright shots of yellow throughout the fall (pictured below), but even before the bevy of blooms, the lacey, willowy foliage alone will delight during the summer.   Wish you could see garden blooms clearly from your second-floor bedroom?  Plant this sunflower at the base of a sunny wall, and you'll be able to reach out and touch the blooms from your window.

The lowdown on NYC's High Line

I don't know about you, but when I reminisce about trips to Manhattan, I recall wandering through world-famous museums, hitting up Broadway shows, dining in the city's hot spots, viewing the world from atop vertigo-inducing skyscrapers, and shopping until my legs truly felt like they would drop off.  I've never equated garden tours with Gotham.

Sure, I've meandered the myriad paths of Central Park, and spent (literally) years of my life at The New York Botanical Garden in the nearby Bronx, but never have I made a trip to the Big Apple in search of anything of a horticultural nature--until last week.  Deciding to christen the fall season with an extended walk through Manhattan's relatively new amusement--the High Line, created on former railroad tracks running parallel to the Hudson River, I put on my sneakers and headed West (and ultimately North).  I'm sure glad that I did.

As any bibliophile knows, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, but look at the funky flower blooming on the High Line (in foreground of picture, above).  The juxtaposition of these two images--nature's valiant struggle to survive amid the bricks and mortar-- adds even more intrigue to what is arguably our country's most eclectic city.

To fully appreciate this strange symbiosis, here's a historical recap in a nutshell:  In the 19th century, freight rail lines were constructed along Manhattan's waterfront and west-side streets to serve an expanding metropolis, and its rapidly growing manufacturing trade.  For years the elevated railway was an integral part of the landscape, and was dubbed the "Lifeline of New York" for its efficient deliveries of produce, meat and dairy products.  Yet the mid 20th century marked the decline in manufacturing in the city and the railway line was abandoned.  It sat for decades in disuse and decline, until the cusp of the 21st century, when neighbors and city officials collaborated to repurpose the now-residential and commercial area.  Noticing how nature reclaimed the existing tracks gave the organization, calling themselves "Friends of the High Line," an idea: use the existing self-seeding plants around the rail yards to devise an iconic urban landscape which would give residents a place to relax, enjoy nature, and take advantage of the expansive view of the Hudson River.  Judging by the photos below, where one can see buds and foliage peeking between the railroad ties, the High Line idea was a good one!

 

 

 

Save the frogs

  

In my never-ending quest to discover new things about my "frog friends," I ran across the savethefrogs.com website, an information-packed place exploring the nature and nurture of our amphibian pals.

 

Geared primarily to schools, the vast amount of information on the preservation of frog habitats and the exploration of the intrinsic nature of these charming critters is fascinating.  Who knew that some frogs are immune to the AIDS virus?  Did you know that tadpoles in our reservoirs actually filter our drinking water by eating the algae buildup?  I didn't know that the oldest known frog fossils date back to the Permian period, 265 million years ago!  That, my friends, predates even the dinosaurs (by about 40 million years).

This information is not only interesting from an evolutionary standpoint, but has important implications for human life.  Adult frogs gobble up massive amounts of insects and disease vectors (think mosquitos and Malaria or West Nile Virus), and are also a food source for fish, snakes and birds.  Their ability to breathe through their skin is also handy to human beings, since many of their skin secretions have the potential to unlock nature's curative secrets. 

Unfortunately, their permeable skin makes them especially susceptible to toxins, allowing chemicals to easily cross into their bodies, and cause mutations in their young.  Especially worrisome are chemicals such as atrazine (an herbicide used to prevent broadleaf weeds in lawns).  Banned in Europe in 2004, this agent has been shown to be an endocrine disruptor, which means it alters the natural hormonal system of living things exposed to it.  Weakened frogs and toads can fall prey to parasites permeating their porous skin.  One type--Ribeiroia ondatrae--burrows into tadpoles' hind limbs, which compromises their physical development.  Have you seen any deformed frogs in your yard?  Sadly, toads and frogs are the amphibian version of Nostradamus--their mutilated forms offering genuine predictive power about the direction our environment is heading.  At the risk of sounding angry (a state my husband often accuses me of reaching), please consider the health of wildlife--and ultimately, humans--the next time you spread toxic pollutants on your lawn to make it look green.

A better idea: reduce the amount of lawn you have in favor of native flower gardens.  Not only are flowerbeds easier to maintain, but they offer much more visual interest than a bland expanse of green.  Native stunners like Solidago (Goldenrod) pair perfectly with naturalizers like Queen Anne's Lace (a member of the carrot family, originally brought over from England, but here so long that people think of it as a native).  For a pop of color, plant New York Ironweed (Vernonia noveboracensis), with lush deep green foliage and rich purple blooms. For a sweet scent, try Virginia Sweetspire (Itea virginica) with white bottlebrush blossoms that smell like honeysuckle.

To me, the best garden spaces blend the fanciful with the fundamental.  Clay pots turned upside down and placed on rocks in a native garden provide whimsical abodes for toads--a pretty practical way to serve and protect the charming critters who add so much to our lives.