A Native Winner

Having discouraged the cultivation of a popular and ubiquitous shrub in my last post, I wanted to provide a replacement that would fill the same niche, but without the honeysuckle's drawbacks. The above pictures are of the American Cranberry Bush. Its Latin title is Viburnum trilobum. As can be seen from the close-up, it has great beauty in flower, and from the more distant shot can be discerned its great use as a border shrub that will grow twelve feet high in sun or light shade. Moreover, these stunningly beautiful flowers become lush red berries that saturate the shrub with bright color in the fall, when the leaves also turn a beautiful red color.

What differentiates it so desirably from the alien honeysuckle is that, as a native to the region, it has evolved with the insect and animal species endemic to American temperate regions. This translates into use by nesting birds in the spring and summer, and hard pressed birds and animals desperate for nutritious food in the winter, when its berries are at their sweetest. My experience has been that waxwings find the beautiful red berries indispensable in middle to late winter, especially during times of snow cover and storm. And certainly a flock of Cedar Waxwings in the garden on a gray February day is a sight we could all use.

I've found this shrub species very easy to grow with no special requirements, and they grow quickly too. In the relatively short time I've had them established in the border of the garden, there have been numerous birds that have nested in their branches, most consistently the highly desirable catbird. If you do begin to weed out the honeysuckles from your existing shrub borders, consider replacing them with Viburnums, and start with the American Cranberry Bush.

Wildlife Gardening

Though I appreciate the beauty of a rose or annual flower like anyone else, my real interest in gardening lies in the live creatures my plantings may lure. For years I have researched what tree or shrub will best attract the birds, butterflies, dragonflies, reptiles, and mammals that can make a stagnant property transform into a truly unpredictable landscape.

If there is one major piece of knowledge that has made the most difference in my understanding of wildlife gardening, it is that one must target plants native to the area. Hence aliens from Europe and Asia, though perhaps beautiful and alluring, must be used moderately, if at all. Now to some this sounds like too draconian a measure, and they choose to deny the importance of the claim. Nevertheless, the facts do support the assertion, and the explanation is that, having evolved with the insect and animal kindoms for eons of time, native plants support their needs best.

The attached picture is of a beguiling culprit. The honeysuckle shrub was introduced from Japan in the 19th century and quickly became popular. It has multiple attractions in that it flowers quite beautifully in the spring, supplies desirable cover during the summer, and berries to the attraction of the birds in the fall. Nevertheless, it is a problem for the true wildlife gardener, and especially to the native animals themselves. Because it is an alien it has no traditional enemies in the insect world that feed from its leaves, and this results in an advantage over our native species. Without insect foes that control its growth, it overruns our native species that do have controls. Also, because of this lack of associated growth controlling insects, birds and predators like dragonflies are unable to benefit from it in the all important early spring, when reproduction is in full swing. Babies need meat, and insects are the usual source of it. Without an evolved association with insects finding a meal by its presence, birds are unable to fill their needs of a high protein diet. In addition, though it does berry and feed birds in the fall, the birds gain little real nutrition from it.

There are many such alien culprits that are being touted as "carefree" by landscaping centers, but this is one of the more environmentally harmful of them. You might consider controlling its growth in your garden.

Garden Genes

When in our garden, it requires little thought to see that species have their preferences. Even without an awareness of Darwin's revelations, one, simply by being aware, learns the likes and dislikes of our property's residents .

Particularly interesting is that a tree's genes can result in a different looking plant even within a species, and this is not an unusual occurence. These genetic variations occur in all species and manifest themselves in myriad ways. The Japanese Maple pictured here has a dwarf nature coupled with an umbrella top that is very appealing to the eye, and this tree can grow no other way with the particular gene structure it contains. This variation, however, does not appear to provide the plant with any natural advantage that could easily explain its continued existence in Darwinian terms. It suffers from a serious height disadvantage that makes it almost certain to get shaded by larger trees, and this dwarf nature also makes it a target for even small herbivores that could eat its entire supply of life giving leaves. Perhaps only its beauty has enabled it to persist in nature, with gardeners interested in maintaining beautiful surroundings its greatest ally.

While reflecting upon this phenomenon, I was walking in nearby Newburyport on this Memorial Day weekend when I noticed amidst the city festivities a man dressed as a clown surrounded by mothers and young children. He was inflating and twisting balloons into animal shapes, according to each, on whim, its own distinctive shape; manifesting each, if you will, with a distinctive genetic map. The gathered children were facinated and happy, as was the clown, though at the sudden popping of one creation as it neared its completion, he did excuse the mishap with an apology about tired hands that had instilled imagination into these rubber objects for too long throughout the day.

Later, while walking home, I saw a similarity between the dwarf Japanese Maple and the clown. Both were probably unable to act in any other way, each steered inexorably by an inner map determining its appearance, disposition, and action. Morevoer, both had found allies in the common quest for gene perpetuation, one for its beauty and the other for its delightful spreading of happiness and mirth.

From the Garden of Peeves

As I garden in the ideas and reactions of my experiences, I find set off and frequently cultivated a small plot of pet peeves. While among these today, I picked a particularly pampered and lush one to talk about.

The English Sparrow is a species first introduced to America in the 19th century. Like most alien species, either plant or animal, it has prospered at the expense of native species. These particular birds have quite nasty habits and will steal a cavity nest from native birds like swallows and bluebirds and, if necessary, not hesitate to kill the existing nestlings. I've seen them do it.

Now these birds are a particular peeve of mine, because we inadvertently encourage them when we erect beautiful birdhouses like the one pictured here. Though we imagine the new multi-cavity house will result in purple martins or tree swallows, the great majority of the time it is occupied by these English sparrows that might more descriptively be called flying rats.

These are birds that all city dwellers know extremely well. In places where only pigeons can also survive, they prosper. They are attracted by the dwellings of people and love crowded settings. I suppose because they can be an inner city child's only contact with the sparrow species, or with any birds other than pigeons, they must be given some credit; but in the suburbs where melodious birds with the attractions of more civil habits, great beauty, and the desire and ability to devour great quantities of mosquitoes exist and nest, these English sparrows should be discouraged.

A few years ago, before neighbors began attracting these pests with offered housing, there were swallows and bluebirds nesting in the yard. Now, however, as these sparrows do not tolerate other cavity nesters in their vicinity, any of these more desirable birds are quickly driven away whenever they stop to attempt to nest.

As I walked around the school that I teach at today, I saw that the perennial barn swallows had returned and were once again building mud nests beneath the eves of the building. I also noticed there was an unusual commotion and lots of angry chattering going on. As I got closer I saw that an English sparrow had commandeered a mud nest from a mated pair of swallows and was proudly crowing from the entrance in the annoying chirp that is the limit of its song, refusing to allow the rightful owners to return. I'll be watching in the days to come to see if this sparrow actually nests in the mud house. If she does I'll use the frustration and annoyance she generates within me to cultivate a prize crop of peeves like this one.

Melville and Social Conscience

The thought of a garden can bring one to many considerations. The word is provocative, and it may be understood as the cultivation of any endeavor. When people gather and form government, they are gardening the future of their society; and when they neglect this garden of laws and limitations, they allow the harvest to grow rank with the weeds of injustice and barbarity.

As I currently read "Redburn," a travelogue by Herman Melville lying within the genre of fiction but decidedly about the author's own experiences as a merchant marine, I am morally awakened by chapter 37 entitled "What Redburn Saw in Launcelott's-Hey." The scene describes a depraved horror of need and destitution in 1830's Liverpool that makes inadequate for the purpose words like poverty and squalor, and needs description beyond my reach to convey.

Thanks to Dickens and others who wrote with a social conscience, I am aware of the hopeless destitution that was suffered by the English poor in the early 19th century. But this scene put forward by Melville, as both a social indictment and an expression of outrage against the English government, is unparalled in its forcefulness. Though only five pages long in the Library of America version that I'm reading, it wallops into awareness one's sensibilities more thoroughly than might a five hundred page treatise. You'll need to scroll to chapter XXXVII. Read Chapter 37 here.

Those asserting that government has no business assisting those in serious need should be forced to read this chapter. It illustrates how the past has shown that when government refuses to provide folks aid when truly needed, barbarism in the form of passive neglect slowly destroys women and children, and along with them all that defines a moral and humane state.

Buttercups and Other Rejects

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet."

William Shakespeare

Interesting it is that some see the word buttercup in relation to their garden and reach for the herbicide, while others reach for the camera. Perhaps we are too enamored of things difficult to grow and desire only the difficult to maintain. Like the elusive love that tantalizes but evades our entreaties , we want in our gardens those plants that will object to capture there, all the while blind to the beauty of those species that volunteer without needing our labor and assistance.

The point can be made all the more energetically about the dandelion. Though of beautiful color and intricate pattern, it is scorned by many. Indeed, the gardening conglomerates make millions by advocating its eradication, and haplessly ignorant homeowners poison their properties to eliminate its beauty and utility as a food for both humans and wildlife. It attracts, in its flowering stage, bees and butterflies, and in its seed stage, goldfinch and children. When allowed to prosper, the resulting sea of yellow and green is an aesthetic delight.

It appears man wants the rare and difficult to maintain, even when the easy offers manifold delights. Ah, man is a giddy, giddy thing!

A New Venture

It has been said that new ventures awaken us from the tedium of repetion. It has also been said that ambiguity and confusion, though discomfiting, last usually only for the outset of a journey. Let it be said that this is the start of a new and tantalizing project that aims at a clarification of my own thoughts and beliefs, alongside a hope that it will provide an avenue by which I continue to learn about the things I love.

Here will be my expressed collection of transient interests and long treasured beliefs and passions. These will focus upon, without being limited to, literature and nature; and the means of expression will be with words and my new, though still comfusing and intimidating, Canon digital camera.

Moral support will come from Gandalf the Grey, pictured above, who also finds the new camera intimidating.