Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Mrs. Robin has returned



Last year, I discovered a robin's nest in the honeysuckle out front (original post here). Tonight I was out front by the trellises trying to train the clematis and honeysuckle to go where I wanted, and I discovered this nest. It was perched a little higher then I could see, so I took my iPhone and took a photo (blindly). When I took a look at what I shot, I was pleasantly surprised! I've been waiting for her to return all night, but didn't see her come back while I was outside. (I did, however, hear them in the distance.)

I tried to find more information online and read that she will often leave the nest to feed herself. Sometimes the males will bring her food, too, but usually when she is incubating the eggs. It's also possible that she has one more egg to lay. Apparently robins lay as many as four eggs but only one a day. She won't start incubating until all her eggs are laid. (More information can be found here.)

I'd love to break out my "real" camera to photograph the nest, but I also don't want to disturb her. Plus, I'd definitely need a ladder in order to get the height I need!

Guess I better put off powerwashing the house!

Friday, April 12, 2013

It's happening faster now

This past week I traveled to Florida for a quick escape of every day life. When I came back late last night, I could tell there was a big difference in the garden already just by the illumination of the car's headlights.

There were daffodils in bloom- all over the place. But sadly, the only daffodils that didn't make it were all the tete-a-tete daffodils I planted in the blue pots out front. They were not protected from the winter snow and ice, and I think the freezing and thawing rotted the bulbs inside. (An expensive lesson.)

But even with that disappointment, every spring seems to be more special than the one before. Maybe it seems sweeter this year because of the amount of snow we received the past few months (as opposed to last year when spring was almost too early in its arrival). Or maybe it's just the welcome shot of color, the longer days of sunlight, or the chill coming out of the air.



Cold frame lettuce and Italian dandelion, ready for picking!


Pansies and violas grown from seed.

Garlic!

Glory of the snow.


White forsythia.

Daffodils by the road.


I'm hoping to spend more time out in the garden this year than last. We only get so many springs in a lifetime- I'd hate to think they were missed.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Spring is coming

The back garden.

Lettuce in the cold frame.

Crocuses from the back garden.

Pussy Willow.

Crocus in the front garden.

Monday, March 18, 2013

Is there no help for those with black walnut trees?

This is one of the two black walnuts that tower behind our home. (Taken Jan. 30.)
Hiding behind the shed is a very large black walnut tree.
When we were completing the home inspection on our house, the previous owner pointed out the large tree as a demarcation for the property line (since our property is not fenced in).

"That tree right there, that's your property," she said, pointing to the large sturdy tree I was unfamiliar with. "And if you ever cut it down, you'll get some good money for it, since it's a black walnut tree."

I tucked that information away and didn't think much of it.

I had never seen, experienced or dealt with a black walnut tree previously, so this didn't raise any red flags, as it most likely would have with more experienced gardeners.

Over the last four summers, I've attempted to grow a variety of things in our back garden. Some survive, but most struggle.

It wasn't until the last couple of months that I started to take the black walnut trees presence seriously.

My mind began to wander. Maybe that rhodendron that won't bloom, maybe that's due to the black walnut. Or the hydrangeas that appear stunted... or maybe that winterberry or kousa dogwood didn't die from vole damage, but instead from juglone poisoning.

With a little more research, I learned that black walnut trees are indeed valuable for their lumber, since they are so straight. But certain plants - let me correct that with many plants - cannot grow in the presence of a black walnut tree. That's because the tree emits a chemical called juglone, especially in the nut hulls, buds and roots.

According to The Mortem Arboretum, "The highest concentration of juglone occurs in the soil directly under the tree's canopy, but highly sensitive plants may exhibit toxicity symptoms beyond the canopy drip line. Because decaying roots can release juglone, toxicity may occur for several years after a tree has been removed."

I visited the Massachusetts Horticultural Society booth this past week at the Boston Flower Show and started off my question with, "So I have these black walnut trees in the back of my garden..."

The woman's face scrunched up as she said, "Ohhhhh."

"I know," I said, reacting to her expression. "I was wondering if I could make raised beds to keep the plants roots away from the soil?"

She admitted that she had never heard of anyone attempting this before, but if I was to do it, I should line the bottom of the bed with black plastic (with the disclaimer that she hardly tells anyone to use black plastic in the garden) because it might help keep the soil from being contaminated.

"But," she added, "You'll have to be vigilant with raking away the leaves, fallen branches and nut hulls, because that can contaminate the top of your soil."

I suddenly had flashbacks of my husband and I raking, shredding and adding leaves to the compost pile. Black walnut leaves intermingled with several maple leaves. The large, fallen branches from previous storms that I've used to line my garden beds for a "natural" look.  When I added my compost to the tomato bed last year, and within the month my tomatoes began to turn yellow and wilt. (At the time I feared blight and vole damage, but through my research I've found that tomatoes are the canary in the coal mine, if you'll excuse the expression, when it comes to juglone presence in the soil. The signs are wilting, yellow leaves, stunted or slow growth and death.)

The more I tried to be earth friendly and make my own compost, was I actually sabotaging my garden? But I did add my compost to the cold frame this past fall and the lettuces are fine, so it didn't add up in my mind.

I stumbled upon another article by Ohio State University, which cleared things up a bit: "Walnut leaves can be composted because the toxin breaks down when exposed to air, water and bacteria. The toxic effect can be degraded in two to four weeks. In soil, breakdown may take up to two months. Black walnut leaves may be composted separately, and the finished compost tested for toxicity by planting tomato seedlings in it." West Virginia University adds to that, cautioning that the compost may still have some juglone remaining.

In fact, the more people I ask for advice about what to do with a black walnut tree give the same grimace and suggest maybe I should cut it down.

The only problem is, despite the fact that the juglone will remain in the soil despite the removal of the tree, is that I really like trees. Killing off trees that are healthy and been around longer than I have been seems wasteful and selfish to me.

So I began to research some more. I found that within 50-60 feet of the root zone is the main problem area, which is why the front garden is fine.  While the Morton Arboretum cautions that once the plant is affected there is no cure, the staff at the Massachusetts Horticultural Society booth seemed to think that moving the plants may indeed help and even save them. (I don't want to calculate how much money I may have wasted by not investigating this before planting.)

On the list of plants that can't tolerate juglone and corresponds with poor performance in the back garden, are lilac (which I moved and is flourishing out front), flowering tobacco, petunias, baptista, peony, hydrangea, rhododendron, mountain laurels and some viburnums.

The only plant that is suppose to be sensitive but flowers every year is my pink azalea. Maybe I'll continue to say a little prayer over that plant that the black walnut roots don't reach it.

I've already come around to the idea of making the back garden full of plants that can tolerate a little juglone, which luckily already include some that I have planted out there, including fern, chrysanthemum, black-eyed Susan, daylily, hosta, bee balm, daffodil, shasta daisy, beautybush and witch hazel. Although not officially on the list provided by the Morton Arboretum, I'm including holly since that has been growing in size of the past four summers.

Is there hope?

Apparently yes, according to West Virginia University. "...decreased toxicity seems to be associated with excellent soil drainage, even among sensitive species. Thus, any steps that can be taken to improve drainage, such as additions of organic matter or replacement of existing soil with a lighter type, should tend to minimize toxicity problems in a garden area."

The next step for my little garden won't be cutting down the trees. I'm going to try and move the most sensitive plants away from the back garden. Those that can't take the full sun that the front garden offers I'm going to attempt to put in raised beds. I'll have to be better about keeping a list of juglone-sensitive plants with me in the future, so I don't introduce further problems.

Who said gardening was ever easy?

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Blizzard with the arrival of robins

The back garden after roof raking and shoveling, Feb. 10.

I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me when we were roof raking after the record blizzard in Connecticut that began Feb. 8. There up in the tall tree was a robin.

What was he doing here?

Robins in our area usually signal the arrival of spring. I was surprised at what I saw, but I recorded the information for my bird tally for this year's Project Feederwatch.

I didn't think much more of the sighting until I came home from work yesterday late afternoon and saw several robins (at one time I counted as many as 10!) swooping about my front yard and into my neighbor's tall evergreen tree.

I sat in my car with the door ajar and could hear them calling to each other and scratching what little of the leaves and soil was exposed.

It was incredulous, and I still didn't believe my eyes, until a robin flew right by my head and landed in the pear tree.

Yep. They were here.

Perhaps the snow will melt quickly after all?

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Cold Frame Update

Despite the Arctic temperatures we experienced for a week and a half, the lettuce and dandelions held up just fine in the cold frame. Tonight, I cut the dandelion and it was a nice appetizer for the rabbits. I can't wait until the lettuce gets larger!



Sunday, January 27, 2013

Seed Season

Just when I was starting to pat myself on the back for nurturing the pansies that sprouted in a pot in the garage - why these will be the earliest pansies I've grown yet! - I was humbled this morning when I found little green aphids and little brown (spider) bugs on the plants and lurking on the surface.

Super.

I tried to pick them off the plants but kept finding more. I had just sown new pansy seeds three days ago that have not yet sprouted. Visions of aphid madness began to run rampant through my mind.

Time for a little tough love.

We're just coming out of a cold snap here in Connecticut; today is on the "warmer" side (at 30 degrees), so I dragged the greenhouse out of its winter home in the garage, propped it up by the back door, and set the pansy seedlings inside.

Hopefully I haven't doomed them to death.

I just can't risk an infestation before I even start growing new seeds.

The good news -- if it can be considered that -- is that I am going to try to garden by the moon again this year. Two years ago I did, and perhaps memories make it seem better, but last year I didn't bother to buy the Gardening by the Moon calendar and I had one of the worst growing seasons ever. So this year, I made sure to make my first sowing of seeds when the calendar recommended it. And interestingly enough, the attempted eradication of aphids today fell under the "Harvest, cultivate, weed and control pests" portion of the calendar.

Perhaps this will work out after all.