Asters and Goldenrod

 The asters are beginning to bloom among the goldenrod. Here, the purple flowers of a lone New England Aster pops out in the yellow field of goldenrod.

A beautiful symbiosis of color, as the goldenrod seems to allow a spotlight on the aster.

Why do asters and goldenrod look so beautiful together?

That was the question Robin Wall Kimmerer (author of the much loved and acclaimed book "Braiding Sweetgrass") said she wanted to answer, when asked why she wanted to become a botanist during her freshman entrance interview for college. 

Of course, the "real" scientist interviewing her scoffed at that answer. 

But... why do goldenrod and aster bloom together, the colors yellow and purple complementing each other so well?

It's almost as if some intelligence designed it that way. Mother Nature is such an artist.

White Snakeroot, Ageratina altissima

Other asters also bloom at this time, but they are mostly white-flowered. Some of the "asters" are fleabanes, which are related but in the Erigeron genus. They can be distinguished from the true asters by the fact that their flowers have many more petals.

Tall Boneset, aka Tall Joe-Pye Weed also blooms white in the meadows now. A closely related species, White Snakeroot, lights up the edges of the woods with its fuzzy white flowers. 

The most famous of our yellow flowers, of course, is the sunflower -- rather sunflowers. So many species of sunflower populate the meadows and roadsides that it's nearly impossible to tell which is which. Except for our common, annual sunflower, Helianthus annua, with its large, dark center. Many of the other sunflowers are perennials, including sunchokes (most commonly, Jerusalem artichoke) which provides a tasty tuber. 

But these are not the flowers Robin Wall Kimmerer expressed curiosity about when she sought to be a botanist. It was the beauty of the asters and goldenrod growing together that most impressed her. 

So, why do they look so beautiful together?

Did they evolve together for our benefit?

Not likely. We, perhaps, simply evolved in order to be able to appreciate their beauty.

Precious

 

It's paw paw season here in Northeast Kansas, and some people are out hunting for this precious treat, trying to beat the local wildlife to the ripening fruit.

Maybe 15 years or so ago I discovered a couple of paw paw trees growing just beyond the edge of the woods around our house. I noticed the first one because of its deeply colored, bell-shaped flowers that are large enough to be seen from a moderate distance. Even though paw paws are native to the eastern third of Kansas, I had never seen a paw paw tree before.

I was delighted to discover the tree's identity. The paw paw is the largest native fruit in Kansas, and seems more like a tropical fruit than a temperate region one. The fruit is probably about the size of a medium to small orange, but oblong in shape (as you can see in this photo). It is sweet and custard-like in texture when fully ripe.

The tree I found in our woods never produced fruit, although it had numerous blossoms. And it died two or three years later. I discovered another one in another area nearby. It is still alive, but is struggling. This rocky hill is not the best habitat for a paw paw tree.

The paw paw tree does prefer a shaded habitat, but does best in rich soil, especially near water. I've heard that many can be found in the woods around nearby Clinton Lake.

About 10 years ago I planted a paw paw tree near our house, but out in full sun next to some other fruit trees, which are now gone. I shaded it when it was young, but a mature tree can handle sun. It started fruiting about three or four years ago, but not prolifically. We did get nine paw paws last year. Such abundance! About a month ago I found four paw paws lying on the ground beneath the tree. It was a hot day and they were lying in the sun. They still felt firm, although warm. I brought them in the house and set them on the counter. It was far too early to harvest paw paws, but they do ripen off the tree. In about a week they were ripe enough to eat. So we ate them. 

One paw paw still clung to the tree, and I checked it frequently, fearing squirrels or some other wild being would make off with it. Squirrels often steal apples from our tree.

A few days ago I couldn't bear it anymore and plucked the above pictured fruit from the tree. It is now ripening on the kitchen counter, and has softened some. Soon we'll feast on paw paw.

You can learn a little more about this tasty native fruit at Kansas Wildflowers and Grasses.

Tomato Time

August brings tomato abundance in my garden. 

It starts slowly in July, when each tomato is precious. In August, however, tomatoes pile up on the kitchen counter and must be processed.

These little tomatoes are called "Black Plum." I love to roast these little paste tomatoes and puree them into a sauce for immediate use or for canning. I simply slice them in two and place them in a glass baking dish, sort of single layer but crowded, then cook them into a 350-degree Fahrenheit oven for one to two hours. When they are deflated and much of the juice has evaporated, then they are done.

This year I decided to dispense with canning the sauce. But neither am I sticking them in the freezer. Instead, I decided the dehydrate the roasted tomatoes. When I want some sauce, I'll just crumble them up and add water, or whatever liquid seems appropriate.

Or, I can just snack on them.

For several years I've dehydrated the large paste tomatoes that I grow. I cut them into thin slices and dehydrate them... no cooking. I can rehydrate them for cooking, or for tossing into salads. Most often, though, I eat them as a snack or use for holding baba ganoush or some other dip -- especially the particularly crispy ones. I still have some from last year, even while I'm working my way through this year's crop.

Dehydrating tomatoes and other vegetables saves time and freezer space. It does take 20 or more hours in the dehydrator at 135 to 145 degrees, but I don't have to do anything to them while they're in the dehydrator. I also dehydrate thin slices of summer squash and cucumbers, raw. Eggplant I slice thinly, and bake at 350 for 10 to 15 minutes, then dehydrate. These three are great snack "chips." Okra also can be dehydrated, either raw or cooked. One of my neighbors ground dehydrated okra into "flour" for use in various dishes.

However, today, the focus is tomatoes. Even the little Sun Gold Cherry tomatoes are dehydrated into sweet little snacks. Just cut in two and dry them crunchy.

But the best way to eat the Sun Golds is fresh off the vine, when they are still warm from the Sun.

Oh, my!

August Gold

 

It's August. The slow slide into Autumn has begun.

In the woods and prairies the blues and purples have given way to yellow and gold. The light at sunset becomes slightly more golden each day.

A week or so ago, this same spot along my daily walk was filled with the blue of the native American Bell Flower. Now it lights up with the gold of one of the many yellow flowers that run rampant through the countryside. I'm guessing this is a species of Rudbeckia, black-eyed or brown-eyed Susan. Goldenrod scatters yellow flowers throughout the prairie, and soon sunflowers of all kinds will shine their yellow suns along the roadways.

The temperature moderated a bit shortly after August began. We've had cool mornings, and the afternoons were warm, but not blazing hot. It even rained yesterday and today, always a blessing in August. 

But we're back to hot weather tomorrow. The temperature won't be so bad, but the anticipated humidity has them calling for a heat advisory tomorrow afternoon and evening.

It's August, and the cicadas are singing. You almost can tell what month it is by the emergence of our annual cicadas. 

The cicadas are singing, singing, singing.

Golden flowers are blooming.

Tomatoes ripen and summer squash swells. 

It's August. 

Woodland Blues

 

My daily morning walk takes me past this stunning scene of woodland flowers. The color in this photo, of course, does not bring out the brilliance of the flowers' blue/purple color. Plus, this section is maybe a quarter of the area with these beautiful native wildflowers. The size of the patch and the bright color of the flowers are what make it truly stunning.

American bellflower (Campanula americanum) grows along the edges of Kansas woodlands. Many, many different species exist in the Campanula genus, including non-native and cultivated species. A number of other flowers that you can find in nurseries also are related to campanulas, but fall into a different genus -- such as Platycodon grandiflorus, Chinese bellflower or balloon flower, that grows in my flower bed. This is the only Platycodon specie.

I hope to someday find the native bellflower for my gardens. For now, though, I must be satisfied with this beautiful woodland scene, which has bloomed for weeks. 

It seems to me that most woodland flowers native here are blue/purple, such as woodland phlox, aka blue wood phlox, and sweet william phlox (Phlox divericata) that brightens Eastern Kansas woods in the spring. 

May your life be filled with such beauty.

Happy Summer Solstice

 

The high point of the year, the Summer Solstice is upon us. The sun reaches it's highest mark in the sky and begins its descent toward the south, where it will rest on the Winter Solstice.

One might say that the seed of Winter is planted today. However, we are a long way from winter. We are about to experience the hottest part of summer. Next week the highs will near 100 degrees F (37.8 C). Fortunately, today we received nearly 3 inches (7.6 cm) of rain.

Elderberry flowers

The season passes and the garden progresses through its summer cycle. The wild rose (above, not in the garden) is nearly done blooming. The elderberries shrubs have bloomed once already and a different variety is now in bloom.

Because of our warm late winter and gloriously luscious spring, many things are moving forward more quickly than usual.

The yarrow flowers are beginning to fade, whereas they usually are at their peak now.

I consider yarrow, elder flowers, roses to be the quintessential flowers of the Summer Solstice.

Yarrow

I have been neglectful of this blog, although I've been gardening like mad all along and have had many ideas to share with you. As I said, I've been in the garden for long days, which took any energy I might have had for writing. So I took advantage of this rainy day to set down some words. To celebrate the Solstice, I wanted to share some images from the garden and take you through the season.

The Asiatic lilies have dropped all their petals, but the Tiger lilies are fresh and bright. I have always thought of tiger lilies as being red-orange. Several years 

ago I bought a package of mixed colors and think these white tiger lilies are absolutely stunning. The package also had the red, as well as orange and yellow. Right now I feel partial to these white ones, however.

The season of fruiting began with strawberries (sorry, no photos) my favorite of all fruits. They were highly productive this year, starting around mid-May and ending in early June. They were accompanied by asparagus season.

The Purple Passion variety that I grow is so fat, tender and sweet. I could hardly get enough of it.

 Our favorite way of cooking and eating it is roasted. We had roasted asparagus almost every day for a few weeks, and I was still able to steam and freeze quite a bit of it. I look forward to eating asparagus this winter. I reluctantly quit harvesting it about a week ago, to let the fronds form so the leaves could feed the roots for next year's production.

That was followed by cherries. We have beautiful little Montmorency pie cherry tree that has produced every year since it began bearing fruit. The cherries, while tart, are sweet enough to eat out of hand. Not like sweet cherries, but to me better. 

With my cherry pitter, pitting them was not an onerous chore. I highly recommend getting one if you have a cherry tree.

As soon as the cherries were done, the black raspberries (no photo) were ready to pick. They did not do so well because I was so busy planting sweet potatoes that I let the raspberry sawfly larvae get out of hand. They decimated the foliage, significantly reducing fruiting. The sawfly larvae didn't cause big problems on the black raspberries last year, but they were far more numerous this year, for some reason. 

In a few days I'll cut down all the fruiting canes and hope for better next. I hope they don't get hit by the black raspberry decline virus.

And now, the blueberries are starting to ripen. The puny little bush among my strawberries just keeps going, in spite of being sorely neglected. Several years ago we decided that blueberries just were not a wise choice for Kansas. They require a lot of water, acid soil, and a little shade in summer's heat. So I took out all but the one bush and said I would only water it when I watered the strawberries. 

And it hung on. This year it is loaded with berries. Perhaps this is its final hurrah and it will give up after this. Or maybe it will cling to life. I will find out next year.

Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit

 

This photo was taken at my home by my good friend Kris Holmes after a special event.

This is the time of year when dust bunnies cavort wildly and multiply exponentially in the corners, under the couch, behind the kitchen stools, and anywhere else they can hide. 

Crumbs of damp dirt and tiny rocks follow us into the house and drop out of the treads in our shoes, little bits for me to find when I walk barefoot across the floor. I find them with my feet, but rarely find what I've stepped on.

After a few days I can barely bring myself to walk barefoot in the house, and the dust bunnies start creeping out of hiding. 

Poppies popping.

But who has time to clean? 

Vegetable beds must be cleared of henbit or cover crop before I can plant tomatoes and sweet potatoes, lay soaker hoses, and mulch. A basket of seeds waits for me to scatter them in the ground -- zinnias, sunflowers, marigolds, nasturtiums. Like the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland I'm muttering, "I'm late, I'm late, I'm late," already too late for some things. Some of the seeds must wait until next year.

But then, too, roses are blooming, poppies are popping, and luscious red strawberries fill my basket daily. Those aren't late. In fact, they're early. 

And the rabbits -- the real ones with long ears and brown fur -- are multiplying. At least, I presume so.

The other day, as I crested the hill in our driveway after taking a walk, a rabbit hopped cautiously from under a large red cedar tree. It (she?) paused, keeping a wary eye on me. I stopped, looking straight at her. Unlike other times when I've surprised a rabbit on the path, this one did not run, but remained still, watching. 

"Do you have babies under that tree?" I asked. "I hope they're doing well." I continued to chat for a few moments. She remained motionless. She definitely has babies hidden beneath the low branches and tall grass. "Good day," I said and moved on. 

I've seen her a few times since, near the tree, hunched and munching grass. She doesn't cast a wary eye at me anymore, but neither does she run when I'm near. I'm certain this isn't the first, or the last bundle of baby bunnies she'll have this spring and summer.

Rabbit sightings used to be common here, but have gotten more and more rare. At one time we'd see a few rabbits in the clearing "playing" in early spring. Later we'd see more, then more. Often we'd go out in the morning and see half a dozen rabbits or more grazing near the house. I would find nests of bunnies in the garden, and relocate them. I once found nestlings under the low leaves of a large cabbage.

Rabbit sightings aren't so common now. Usually it's just an occasional sighting of just one. Perhaps we'll see a few more later this summer.  

I am always happy when I see a rabbit these days. They really aren't much of a nuisance in the garden, especially since I've learned which things will need protection. It's a little extra work to put up the chicken wire fencing to keep them out. However, some things only need protection until they're too big to be considered tasty by the rabbits. The rabbit (rabbits?) sometimes get a weird tasted for something, like the radicchio that came back from last fall. That is a pretty bitter plant... but then, I've seen them eating dandelions, including the stem. So bitterness doesn't deter a rabbit. Bitter is good for digestion.

So rabbits are smarter than humans in knowing they need to eat bitters. 

Welcome rabbit. Just don't raise your babies in the garden.