Wildflower Wednesday: Rejoicing in Milkweeds

It's been a long time since I did a post for Wildflower Wednesday, and it seemed like a good idea to pop up a post about one of my favourite, and most important, of wildflowers: milkweed. 

Milkweeds belong to the genus Asclepias, in the dogbane family, Apocynaceae. It's related to dogbane (Apocynum),  bluestar (Amsonia), periwinkle or myrtle (Vinca) and hoya, the wax plant with its stunning flowers. Looking at the flowers of milkweed, I can certainly see the relationship to hoya-the flower clusters, with their individual florets, look like they're made of china--just perfect.

Planting for the Pollinators

It was hugely, bitterly ironic that last week was National Pollinator Week in the USA; the same week in which thousands of bees were killed when public trees in an Oregon community were sprayed with a pesticide deadly to bees. Others were saved by quick action from the community and from the Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation, and the catastrophe has generated a lot of awareness and dialogue about what we can all do to protect and enhance our pollinators--not just the cute butterflies and hummingbirds, but the bees, flies, beetles and others that do yeoman's service in pollinating plants that we all eat. 

 I have been going on about pollinators and protecting them for as long as I have been gardening, so I'm  pleased to see more and more pollinator awareness happening. My column in our provincial newspaper this weekend is about bees and other pollinators, and I indicated I'd be putting up a list of plants that are great for pollinators here on bloomingwriter.

A Monarch Public Service Announcement

Nothing makes me happier than to see schools, community organizations, and others get behind a good cause. Take monarch butterflies, for example. It's no secret that I'm a fan of them, and of other pollinating creatures, and have been writing about them for a few years. We often have them in our garden, which is extremely butterfly/pollinator friendly, and many times I've sat mesmerized watching adults emerging from the chrysalis.


Recently, The Mersey Tobeatic Research Institute established a 'butterfly club' to encourage gardeners to grow swamp milkweed, (Asclepias incarnata) one of many milkweeds (but only two natives in NS, the other being A. syriaca) that monarch butterflies feed on in their larval stage. Without milkweeds, there are no monarchs. And there are problems in monarch populations, so every little bit we gardeners can do to help them is a good thing.

I'm especially delighted that schools are now getting into the act and planting butterfly gardens to help encourage the breeding and survival of monarchs (and other butterflies). One such school is Clark Rutherford Memorial School in Cornwallis, one of a handful of Nova Scotian schools that has earned the Earth School status through the Green Schools Canada program. I haven't yet been to the school or seen their garden, but I hope to visit sometime later this fall or else next spring. The school is participating in the Marvelous Monarch Migration Festival, happening this coming weekend throughout Southwestern Nova Scotia. Maybe you'll get a chance to take in some of the activities if you're in our area.

Have the monarchs started migrating in your area? I haven't seen any real numbers around here. I think the hummingbirds have finally left for warmer climates, but we're keeping the feeder up for a few days yet.

Because migrations or fall flowers or weather notwithstanding, I'm still in De Nile. I'm building a houseboat for those of you who wish to join me in that cruise.

Just a few minutes

There really aren't a lot of words needed for this...mouse over the photo to see how it all happened in just a couple of minutes. (each photo is named according to the date stamp as I took the photo, but the upshot is it all took about half an hour from stoic, silent chrysalis to vibrant life.


















And while I was sitting on the wet grass rejoicing in this newest addition to the world, I looked over, and saw another chrysalis I hadn't seen before. The more we look, the more we see.



I'm very grateful that this monarch chose this morning to emerge, and while I was outside checking them too...there will be more over the next few days but I'm unlikely to see them, as I'm busy with preparations for my adventure. More on that this evening.....

The miracle of birth vs the weedwhackers

So I'm musing over assorted work related topics and trying to decide whether to vacuum the house or work on assignments when Long Suffering Spouse starts hollering outside. I knew he was out back with one of the neighbours, so I went out...and met this new arrival, wings still wet.

Well, naturally I ran for my camera, and returned to sit in wet grass watching her as she rested, opened her wings a few times, and unfurled her proboscis a bit for my observing pleasure.
I left her be, hanging there on her rudbeckia, and went around to look at the others. Some others have also hatched, though I haven't seen them yet--it's cool here and they need to get their wings warmed up before they can fly--but I hope to catch this one in the process of coming out, as it's obviously getting ready to emerge soon:

Meanwhile, there are several cats munching through the swamp milkweed again. I told them they'd better hurry up, as Kylee at Our Little Acre reports that the migration has begun down her way.

As if to compensate for my moody posting on Muse Day, the garden is bustling with life--much of it of the insect kind, especially pollinators, with big fat bumbles and other bees, bee-mimicking flies, and other friends. Plus we've seen several garden toads, a few frogs up from the pond, and my favourite, the tiny tree-frogs known as spring peepers. They're silent now, of course, but they're here. The skunks have been digging up grubs from the grass, and they're welcome too, because they have a laissez-faire attitude towards the cats.

And there are still plenty of flowers, even if some of them are of the kind that annoy one Ranter ; echinaceas and rudbeckia. As I posted in comments, though, each to their own. At least we're all gardening--and not cutting off other people's gardens like the nice municipal plant-nazis in Toronto, right?

Okay, back to thinking about butterflies and other life-affirming creatures. What's blooming in your garden--flora or fauna--that makes YOUR heart sing?

Ch ch ch ch changes....

This morning my longsuffering spouse announced that I should go down to the Bay and check out the hay in a field where his nephew was working. Blaine wanted to make sure the quality was good enough for horses, and it certainly was. Now, for those of you who are accustomed to haying in June or July, relax. Down in the Valley the horse hay has been done for weeks, and in fact second cuts are well underway for both hay and silage. But here on the mountain, where things are cooler and more moist, we always get our hay in August. It’s excellent quality and the happy horse and hapless donkey always enjoy it.

While I was waiting for Blaine to bring the first load up, I walked around the garden to see what was new and exciting. Another blast of wind last night had knocked over a wooden obelisk in the back garden, and I was going to pick it up, when I spotted something wonderful. A monarch caterpillar, hanging in the ‘J’ position. I got very excited , even though I realized that now the arbour is going to have to stay resting as it is for the next couple of weeks.

Monarchs (and other caterpillars) attach themselves to a twig, leaf or other object with a pad made of silk and then hang down, head first (like someone doing yoga.) Then they go into their fifth and final moult, which is the amazing one. As one website describes, when the caterpillar sheds its skin this time, it looks like a giant green water droplet, the chrysalis. It’s now beginning its pupation, the stage where it turns from a ponderously slow eating machine to a graceful, flying butterfly.


When I went out at suppertime to get ready to bring in the rest of the hay, our J-shaped caterpillar had done its magic, and was a glistening, glorious green sac. I sat on the ground transfixed by this, the first actual monarch chrysalis I’ve ever seen (except in photos and books and websites.) After the hay, I ran for my camera, and now that I knew what size to look for, I went looking carefully (from outside the border) around other plants for similar shapes.


And there were all kinds of them. Caterpillars hanging in the J-position, and a number of chrysalises (whatever the plural is) festooning a weigela shrub, daylily leaves, hosta leaves…sunlight gleaming through the translucent sacs—I could even see stripes inside a couple of them.


Now, I realize that monarch caterpillars pupate by the millions every year…but I’m no less awed by a marvelous feat of biological engineering.


And when I went back to check the big milkweed plant, I found a few eggs on the underside of some of the upper leaves...and the cycle continues.

Glad gardens of hope

This afternoon on my way back from several other appointments, I stopped in at Murray Salsman’s home in Grafton, NS, behind Berwick. One of the things that makes me particularly happy is when people use their gardening skills to do something that will help others. Murray’s that kind of gardener. His property is home to Marg’s Glad Garden, a memorial garden he built for his late wife Margaret, but also which helps many people every year.

Margaret died of cancer in January of 2004 but she loved to garden, and she and Murray always worked together in their flowerbeds. Her favourite flower was the gladiolus, and Murray decided to plant about 3000 bulbs in her memory, the spring following her death. Then he got the idea to use the glad garden to raise money for the Cancer Care Patient Navigator program, which helps cancer patients and their families when they are dealing with financial difficulties around treatment, etc. And the funds raised go to help patients in Kings and Annapolis Counties—not to fund some research program or some heavily bloated fundraising bureaucracy somewhere else. Marg’s Glad Garden has helped many people since its beginning in the spring of 2004.

This year, Murray and a host of helpers planted around 10,000 glads in early May, and now the garden is open for people to come and visit. If they make a donation to the fund, which is a registered charity, Murray cuts them a bouquet of his gorgeous glads, which come in almost every colour conceivable. Already there has been a steady stream of visitors come to wander through the plantings, make donations, and receive their bouquet of flowers. Murray also has paintings and photographs of glads, taken or painted by Nova Scotian artist Sandy Moser, for sale, and naturally I bought the photo of the hummingbird inside a glad blossom to add to my wall of floral art!

Incidentally, I wrote about Murray and Marg’s Glad Garden last year for Reader’s Digest magazine, (it was in the October or November issue in Canada) and as with anything like this, I always hope that telling the story will spur someone, somewhere, to try something similar. I am a firm believer in helping local people, whether it be purchasing local plants or farm produce or donating to a local charity, so this to me is a good thing to do.

When I got home I went out to the memory garden to look at plants. Since another garden club is coming to visit tomorrow, I thought I should tidy up a bit. But I got as far as the back perennial bed, looked at the Rosy butterfly weed (Asclepias incarnata) and stopped in my tracks.


Remember the other day there were a few little monarch caterpillars having a snack?

Well…I counted about 5 dozen caterpillars in all in the three clumps of asclepias. Most of them are big already, (and the asclepias has taken quite a thumping, but that’s what it’s there for) and will probably be going to pupate in a matter of days. I’ll have to tippy toe around looking for a chrysalis, as I’ve never seen one in the garden.


One of the reasons I have grown to love butterflies so much is because of their remarkable life cycles, and how we can create metaphors for our own lives by watching and learning from them. I never got the weeding done…I spent an hour or more watching the caterpillars munching through the milkweed leaves, and taking photos…and then being visited by this adult female monarch.


She seemed completely oblivious to the caterpillars chewing their way around her—she just probed through the flowers and fluttered around.I think she was just dining on nectar, but maybe she was also getting ready to lay eggs. I haven’t seen a male here yet, but I’m sure it won’t be long now.

Earlier today my longsuffering spouse had asked worriedly about the tussock moth caterpillars, which we don’t care for because last year we had a population boom of them that stripped quite a few plants, and I actually broke out the Bacillis thurengiensis—until I spied monarch caterpillars, at which point all hostilities ceased. This year, I’ve seen maybe a handful of the pesty moth caterpillars, and I think the explosion of them last year—or the cold winter-- meant a bust this year for them. Even if there are a pile of them around, they’re going to get stomped, or snipped in half, or picked and thrown in soapy water, not sprayed, not even with soapy water…don’t want anything to disturb “my” brood of munching monarchs-to-be.

Somehow, after having been to Murray's and making a donation to the Memorial Fund, coming home to monarch butterflies and babies seemed really appropriate. Marg would approve too, I'm sure.

Visitors large and small

This was one of those really busy days but also one filled with delightful surprises. To start out the day, I went off to Medford to pick 16 pints of raspberries at the U-Pick, while Longsuffering Spouse worked on the painting of the house. It's going to look wonderful when he gets it done--which in this heat is taking longer than he had expected. To keep him encouraged, I made up 10 pints of raspberry freezer jam which is his favourite--next to peach and blackberry. Pity we don't have any raspberry wine--except for the Monarda of the same name at the top of this entry.

This afternoon we were visited by some 50 gardeners from Clementsvale and Annapolis Royal; people I met during talks I've given in the past number of months.

I've never had a garden club visit before, and I was a bit nervous but also glad to welcome them. It's always interesting to see what catches other people's eyes, isn't it. Several raved over this Chinese delphinium.
Others were ga-ga over the poppies, which are still flamboyantly doing their thing in a host of colours. More than one asked me which hydrangea this is, and I simply said, "one of the blue lacecaps--because I don't know." Blue Billows, Blue Bird, who knows without a tag or good notes? Since they'd just come from Canning Daylily Gardens, they weren't at all surprised to find me with a host of daylilies in all shades. But more than one person was intrigued by the chocolate foxglove, Digitalis parviflora, part of my chocolate and wine garden.


A number of folks exclaimed over the clematis, especially this one, which is about nine feet tall, and has a few flowers on it. One of the visitors told me she thinks it's Polish Spirit, because of its deep wine colour, and that rings a bell with me. Whatever it is, people were amazed. But I said it's not my doing; Thank the mushroom compost, the fog, the kelp meal, and straw mulching, not me!

After our guests left, I went out to harvest the tomato crop. Such as it is.

Okay now, stop laughing, all you tomato growing whizzes. In my defence, I picked them because I couldn't stand it any longer. And no, your eyes aren't deceiving you; we have a gold, a pink, and a not-quite red ripe one; Gold Nugget, Thai Pink Egg, and I believe the red one is Harmony. I could only take one photo...because to paraphrase the little cat, "I eated them!" I'll put the Seaboost to the plants now and get them moving on their cropping, encouraged by all the tomatophiles out there who grow such nice plants and fruits.

Someone asked me why I don't put out saucers of beer to trap slugs as they noticed a few holes in plants. Well, the truth is, a few holes in my hostas or depredations by rose sawworms or aphids on the honeysuckles don't bother me all that much. I hose down the honeysuckle a couple of times each season, but mostly just let nature--in the form of ladybird beetle larvae and other munching predators--do their thing. I HAVE been watching carefully for an outbreak of the white tussock moth caterpillars, but have seen only one--and if we do get a pile of them, the garden will just have to suck it up and handle it.

Because there are more important things to take care of than bad bugs. Like good bugs. Like bumblebees,

And spangled Fritillary butterflies, (click on this to enlarge it--and tell me he doesn't seem to be looking right at the camera! Just wait til my macro lens gets here, if you think that is fun!)
and most importantly of all...the visitors I found on the rosy milkweed, or swamp butterfly weed (Asclepias incarnata.)

Jubilation! They're here, and they're munching. The monarch caterpillars have hatched! If you'd been in my back yard, you would have seen me doing a little happy dance when I saw a dozen or more of these little darlings munching the rosy milkweed. Eat all you want, guys, there's lots. Eat hearty. Grow big and strong.
Isn't it nice that something so small can make a person so happy?