Phyllostachys allergy

I took this photo of my neighbor's magnificent oak today while lying flat on my back in the back yard, prostrate from exhaustion. I'd been digging bamboo for four hours—the bamboo that has wandered uninvited from my neighbor's yard. I have decided that if even my closest friends asked me to help them dig bamboo, I'd respond: "I wish I could help, but I am deathly allergic to bamboo. If I get within 20 feet of it, I go into anaphylactic shock."

You see, our new neighbor—bless his heart!—has started attempting to eradicate the jungle in his back yard, and so I have seized this opportunity to put a stop to the encroachment. Our lot is less than two-tenths of an acre, so we can't spare another inch of space for a bowl of panda chow that never gets eaten. To my amazement, the bamboo (planted decades ago by some silly person infatuated with its good looks) only started to invade last summer (our 11th year here). I was mowing when I spotted the shoots emerging about 10 feet into our yard. I gasped. Satan's horns! I think it was the shade of the gargantuan oak and competition for moisture that kept it mannerly for this long.

I've decided that if we were shopping for real estate and found our dream home but there was a grove of bamboo in the yard, we would keep on driving. Unless it was a self-cleaning house with a freezer that dispensed an endless supply of Edy's ice cream. Oh, and a staff of 12 that would dig bamboo 24/7.

Two words a gardener can't resist:

"Free plants."

Of course when it comes to participating in a sanctioned plant rescue, the term free is open to interpretation. Yes, you get a ton of plants and don't have to run them by a cashier afterward. But the price is your readiness, if necessary, to brave mosquitoes, ticks and chiggers, get caked with mud, wade through poison ivy and briers, and maybe hit yourself in the head with your own shovel handle and forget who you are for 10 minutes.* And did I mention the digging? The relentless meeting of blade and soil, blade and soil, blade and soil?

Today it paid off in spades (which is good, since I lost my trowel in the woods). In exchange for about four hours of moderate labor, I returned home with a carload of yellowroot, royal fern, lady fern, grape fern, Christmas fern, netted chain fern, Carolina lily, club moss, Solomon's seal, Jack-in-the-pulpit, fringe tree, pinxter azalea, wild ginger and coral honeysuckle.

How can this be, you say? Well, it seems I know a few of the right people. And one of the right people to know is Tom Harville. If you can get on Tom's good side, you'll learn where the choice digs are. Fortunately, it's pretty easy to get on Tom's good side. If you're a relatively nice person and you love native wildflowers, shrubs, trees and the like, you're two-thirds of the way there. If you want to close the deal, you should join the North Carolina Native Plant Society. Tom is cuckoo for the NCNPS. In fact, he has been known to take people on labyrinthine trips into the forest, then refuse to lead them back out until they've coughed up their dues.**

Among many other admirable activities, NCNPS conducts native plant rescues in cooperation with North Carolina governments, landowners and developers in an effort to save native plants that would otherwise be lost to construction and development. To learn more about the Society's mission and how to become a member, click here. Go ahead, make Tom's day.


* As far as I know, this has never happened. However, I could have forgotten it.
** Don't go into the woods without your checkbook!

(Pictured: Soil guru Pete Schubert in a little slice of fern heaven, Raleigh, North Carolina)

Luna moth in repose

I went on a plant rescue in the woods today (more about that later), and a member of our party noticed this luna moth resting on a twig on the forest floor. I took a few profile shots but thought this overhead perspective was really bizarre (click on the image for a closer look). You can tell this luna is a male from its bushy antennae. The female's is more narrow and whiplike.

I have raised luna caterpillars on a diet of sweetgum leaves, then released the adults. But this is the first time I've seen a luna in the wild that was not in flight. Thanks, Pete, for spotting this fella!

The fountain of youth

The corporate hawkers would have us believe that the secret to feeling younger is looking younger: "Ladies, get your anti-aging alpha-hydroxy anti-oxidant and other a-word-enhanced epidermal creams! Gentlemen, chase away the gray with Just for Men!"

But if you want to feel younger, I suggest this prescription. Slip into your Keds, or whatever kind of shoes you wore when you were a kid. Better yet, go barefoot. Fill up a watering can. Then go outside and gently sprinkle your fledgling beans and onions and radishes. Later on, you may notice your aches and pains again. But for a few minutes, you might swear you're 7.

Black swallowtail caterpillars on yummy bronze fennel

I made note of seeing the first black swallowtail butterfly in the garden nine days ago. She was laying eggs on bronze fennel. Clearly, someone was here before that, as these caterpillars I found today are fourth or fifth instar already. I was going to inspect the whole plant for a total head count, but it started to rain. And it hasn't stopped—we've gotten almost 3 inches so far!

Baby bunny makes my day

I'm putzing around the garden this afternoon when I spy a tiny young rabbit totally unaware of me. I crouch and sit as still as possible and watch it explore the garden. It's just beyond my arm's length. This young chap (or chapette) is no bigger than my fist, and it toddles in such an adorable, clumsy way.

It approaches a dahlia shoot. Sniff, sniff. Not interested. Ah, a bit of tansy. Nibble. That's an interesting flavor. Perhaps a tad too strong though. A taste of wild verbena. Not bad. But here: a tender clover leaf! This, I like, thinks little cottontail, whose tail is not yet cottony.

Then it turns and ambles toward me, and I make nary a move. (Now, usually I'm not good at sitting still. I have less patience with birds, but in an encounter with a wild mammal of any shape or size, I have the discipline of a Buckingham Palace guard). Here it comes: the reward. The baby bunny steps right onto the top of my shoe and perches there. Hold my breath, hold my breath, hold my breath. It sits for just a second, then moves on, across the garden, past the onions, and eventually through the fence and into the neighbor's yard.

(Remains of meal retrieved, and scanned for your viewing enjoyment. Cute little teeth marks!)

First poppy, first hummingbird

The first opium poppy bloomed today. And the first hummer arrived at the feeder. Finally, birds I can afford to feed.

Dahlia tubers arrived

Received my spring order from Old House Gardens today, which included Dahlia atropurpurea (pictured at left, courtesy of OHG's online catalog). According to OHG, D. atropurpurea is a dark purple form of D. pinnata, one of the first three wild dahlias to be exported to Europe from Mexico.













On one of my regular visits to J.C. Raulston Arboretum back in October, I was intrigued by the D. coccinea blooming in the geophyte border of the rooftop garden and photographed them for my records (above). I had never seen a species dahlia, or even heard of them for that matter, but of course hybrids have to come from somewhere! So when I saw OHG's D. atropurpurea, I had to order it. I love the idea of growing dahlias as wildflowers, and I like the single form of the blossom. The species dahlias at the arboretum were going like gangbusters, in spite of extreme drought.

I also received in my order the dahlias Little Beeswings (ca. 1909), Madame Stappers (ca. 1947) and Andries' Orange (ca. 1936). Until today, the only named dahlia I had was Prince Noir (ca. 1954), which would be the dahlia I would grow if I could only choose one. Besides it, I have several heirloom passalongs from two sources: Mrs. Rosa Hicks of Banner Elk, N.C., and the late Mrs. Brownie Johnson of Harrells, N.C., whom I miss dearly.

I found a little more on species dahlias here.

The bat is back!

I shone the flashlight up into the bat house before dark, and it's occupied! A single bat. It is exactly 1 year to the day that we put the house up. We discovered the first (and only) occupant last year on June 15, and it remained only two days. So maybe it remembered and has come back to roost for the summer. I want a whole colony (it is a nursery-capacity house), but I'll settle for one. Tomorrow I'll lay out a white towel or sheet underneath the house so I can monitor occupancy by checking for guano. I don't want to disturb any occupant(s) too much with a flashlight. But it's soooooo tempting.

The pot garden

The pots have all been sown. This'll be the third year I've grown Purple Haze carrots, and I'd never be without them. Whether you slice, shred or julienne them or use young ones (tops and all) as edible garnishes, they are drop dead gorgeous. Have grown Easter Egg radishes too, and they're so cute. This is my first time growing French zucchini, watermelon radish and Early Wonder beets. Grow, grow, grow!

Pressed flowers, 21st-century style

I love using my scanner as a poor man's macro lens. Picked these little darlings in the yard today.

Rain falling on sedums

3 more inches of rain!

Compost bin

Cleaned out the fridge!

April showers!

A steady drizzle over the past few days has filled the rain gauge to the 1 1/2 inch mark! Here are some things blooming in the garden today.

Top: Amsonia
Bottom: African daisy

Pansies, piggy, alyssum