Wild Thyme: Bee Harvest
Funds are tight everywhere these days, and one thing that must have gotten slashed from the budget of the Florida, NY Town Hall is mowing. Of course there’s not a lot of lawn to mow in front of the town hall, it’s just a tiny oval island of green in a sea of blacktop. Usually it’s scalped into a brutally short crew cut, but this year they’ve let it run wild. Which is to say, the grass must be quite two inches long. And intermixed with the grass are several large purple patches of thyme. Lying on my stomach on this sun-warmed savory blanket, I can see the honeybees bumbling around among...
Read MoreMilkweed: Tough Native
Usually when I spy a plant bursting forth from a crack in the cement like this, it’s a non-native plant, an invasive “weed” of some sort. I tend to think of native plants as timid souls, needing shade and rich forest loam–dainty wildflowers, fragile ferns, like that. But milkweed, a native American plant, packs a bit of muscle, it seems. It pokes up in all sorts of unexpected places. Milkweed is the plant where Monarch butterflies are concerned–common milkweed and a few other closely related plants in the Asclepias genus are the only plants Monarchs will lay...
Read MoreGood Mowing, Part 2
Last November I wrote a blog post about a meadow at the George Landis Arboretum in Esperance, NY. The meadow had just been mowed, and while you might assume from the title of my blog that I would be violently opposed to all mowing, that’s actually not the case. I can be a good sport about mowing. In fact, mowing in the right places, at the right time of year, can be an enormous help for wildlife, and for wildflowers. A mowed meadow looks sad and stubbly, but as with all good things, patience is required. Here’s what the meadow looks like today. A kaleidoscope of purple, gold and white:...
Read MoreRed Cage Fungus: Smelly Beauty
Pulling weeds. A very educational pursuit. I learn something new every time I do it. I was pulling some invasive bittersweet out of a pile of woodchips at the Pine Hollow Arboretum, when I noticed a hint of a sort of bad smell. Decomposing dead animal? Turned around to look, and the smell grew stronger. No sign of any corpses, though. Hm. Odor getting stronger the more I walk around. Did I step in something unfortunate? Check shoes. No. What is that smell? I search around, and finally notice what’s been under my feet all along–the tiny, fragile, odoriferous beauty of a stinkhorn...
Read MorePoison Ivy: Jumping to Conclusions
Quick! Is this plant poison ivy? Now I’m afraid I get testy when I hear people pointing out perfectly harmless plants as poison ivy–I’ve heard people swear that a maple tree (with reddish leaves) or a raspberry bush or a geranium was a deadly plant to avoid. I’m convinced that one of the many reasons kids are so reluctant to go outdoors is that they think everything with a leaf is poison ivy. In this case, though, I can’t get all snitty because it fooled me, too. I would have to humbly pardon the person who called this plant poison ivy. It’s the best darn imitation I’ve ever...
Read MoreMagic Cicada
Driving south on the Thruway, and I slowly become aware there’s a strange buzzing noise going on. Oh, god, no—must be something with the engine. It’s a penetrating, grating sound, clearly mechanical. I slow down—it gets louder. I roll down the window—it rises to an eerie shriek. I stop at the first rest area, and turn the car off. The noise keeps going. My ears actually hurt with the most annoying sound ever devised by nature: the love song of ten million cicadas. The fence at the edge of the rest area is draped with bittersweet and poison ivy vines, and the metal chain links are practically...
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