Christmas Tour Part II: Come inside for a peek at some of our decorations for Christmas. This will be our first Christmas in several years with all our kids at home.

Christmas tour part I: Considering hubby has been away during the time to decorate for Christmas, I have had limited time and muscle for the task at hand. Part I consists of a peek at our winter wonderland just outside our front door.

Sowing more seeds

It's been a tough summer in the vegetable garden. The late freeze in April, the drought and heat for most of the summer, and now really low soil moisture levels combined with higher soil temperatures, make it hard to coax along even the fall greens.

Seedling in the flats are coming along OK, but the seeds sown directly in the garden are taking their time. I haven't been optimistic enough to plant anything in the satellite garden, as I think the thirsty woodchucks will appear out of nowhere to devour any young kale, chard, or lettuce plants that manage to germinate.

But we've just had a lovely downpour for quite awhile, thanks to some left-over moisture from the hurricane in the Gulf, and hopefully got at least 1 1/2 inches, maybe two. This would be excellent for recharging the soil layers farther down. I'll sow another set of seeds of greens and lettuce tomorrow, I think....

Waterwise gardening

In this summer of extreme heat, and severe drought here in South Carolina, it's hard NOT to think about drought-tolerant plants. We have tried to establish a low-water use landscape, but that doesn't mean no water, especially with recently planted perennials, shrubs, and trees.

We've both gotten really tired of dragging the hoses around to water these young plants that we don't want to lose, but anything planted this year needs water to survive the high temperatures, hardly any rain, and too much wind conditions that we've had. Our plants would normally thrive, after establishment, on normal rainfall, but rainfall this summer has been anything but normal, and even the toughest drought-tolerant perennials have wilted in the late afternoon sun. Trees, with their much more extensive root systems, and shrubs haven't been much affected, and certainly reflect their higher drought-tolerance.

Conditions this summer have me thinking about waterwise gardening (a 'new' alternative term for xeriscaping), as we basically don't believe that putting in irrigation systems is a sustainable option. I think the term 'xeriscaping' makes people think about desert landscaping or high elevation drought-adapted western plants, but I like the term 'waterwise gardening.' Even though I know we're hardly in the low rainfall zone at an average of 50" annually, our local cities and muncipalities are encouraging voluntary water use restrictions, and some are now mandatory in a severe drought year.

Being a waterwise gardener means choosing plants that can withstand dry spells, and flourish without lots of supplemental water. Here in the SE, we can grow lots of great plants that fit that description. Clues to drought-tolerance come from native habitat (grasslands, prairies, dry woods, etc.), plant habit (deep tap roots or fibrous storage roots), leaf color and texture (gray leaves are reflective, waxy or thick leaves are water-loss resistant).

Some of my favorite 'tough plants' from this summer have been blazing star, purple coneflower, black-eyed susans, oakleaf hydrangea, Salvia species of all sorts (including the purple Salvia leucantha shown above, Vaccinium (blueberries), Rosemary, Nepeta (catmint) hybrids, garlic chives, anise-hyssop, and certainly all the native trees. Only the relatively thin-leaved tulip poplars, maples, and dogwoods have looked really stressed, where, in contrast, the oaks and hickories are looking fine.

Lush leafy landscapes and abundant lawn grasses transpire large amounts of water and often need additional water added beyond the regular rainfall amounts.

I'm looking around and seeing what in our landscape might fall in that category. Fortunately, most of the native plants (perennials, shrubs, and trees) from this part of the U.S. are well-adapted to long periods of summer drought, and have been pretty nonplussed faced with weeks and weeks of no rain and extreme heat. The exceptions are many of our favorite plants that are native to the mountains, but not all of them. There are also some of our native understory trees that have large, thin, leaves and show water deficits quickly, too.

But, I do want to have a garden that I won't worry about if we're away in the summer and am not around to do water triage. Of course, my container plantings will be on their own, too, in that case, too!

Changing out vegetable beds for fall

After pulling out spent beans & tomatoes a few days ago, I started readying those spots for fall plants. I like to add more compost, a bit of organic fertilizer, and lime, depending on how each block looks (not very scientific or orderly), but some vegetables are more demanding than others, and almost all vegetables are much more fussy than the tough perennials, shrubs, and trees that we like to grow in our garden.

Spinach (along with beets and chard) prefer a much more neutral soil (almost 6.5-7.0) than ours tend to be here in the SE, so adding more lime is helpful, at least over the long run, although it would have been best to have added it some months ago! Pelletized lime is the easiest to use in the garden.

In fact, one of the harder things I've had to learn about vegetable-growing is that vegetables tend to be nutrient and water 'hogs' -- and have generally been selected to grow tasty fruits and leaves for us to consume, and take up plenty of nutrients and water in the process.

Hoping for rain again

We were lucky at the end of August -- lots of folks around us didn't get the welcome relief of the heavy thunderstorms that added over 2 inches of rain to our garden. The state drought response team has just raised drought levels to severe in SC - here in the Upstate (roughly the expanse in SC between Atlanta and Charlotte, NC), it's particularly bad. Our garden is a low-water use garden (except for the pampered vegetables and the much less pampered container plants), although they do make do with hand-watering and don't have soaker hoses that run for hours on them. A neighboring county is calling for water conservation, and only watering lawns (!) before 5 am. In my opinion, it's a bit much to water lawns at all, but we're not lawn people. We have brown patches that have developed in our Zoysia lawn areas.

But we're still monitoring plants that have been planted in the last few years, and watering them regularly. Anything that's been planted in the last three years needs water, when it's so exceptionally dry. Deciduous azaleas, Itea, Joe-Pye weed, Frasier magnolia --these are all thin-leaved natives used to regular rainfall, ditto for some of the forest understory species such as dogwood and redbud.

Greens are great

I finally sowed some seeds of fall greens in flats and in the ground on Monday. I was a bit late for timing of some of the larger fall vegetables (the ones that take longer to mature) but I'll be able to harvest the fast-growing lettuces and baby mustards within the month, and hopefully get a cut-and-come-again second harvest. Cilantro and argula are also two fast-growing and tasty greens. Transplanting red cabbage seedlings and attractive kales from the garden center are another way to get a quick start on a fall greens garden.

If the first frost doesn't come too early, I'll almost certainly be able to harvest the hardier kales, collards, mustards, and (slightly-protected) spinach through late fall, and again in spring. Here's a container of young spinaches that overwintered last year and provided some tasty early spring salads.

Brassicas -- the mustard greens of various sorts -- grow incredibly fast, and with luck will provide some excellent fall and winter greens. Red mustards are so pretty that it's hard to harvest them sometimes -- I try to grow enough for eating and appearance!

The kales and collards are remarkably resistant to hard freezes, and some people think the flavor is improved after frost. I like to grow more tender-leaved kales than the traditional curly varieties, so I haven't noticed this so much.

Kale, chard, spinach, and lettuce

When we first moved to the south over 20 years ago, I had never eaten kale, collards, mustard greens, or turnip greens. I don't recall eating much spinach either, as a child, since it was largely available as the canned sort. And my mom was a decent, but relatively uninspired plain cook, from a farm cooking background. Although I grew up eating broccoli and green beans (frozen), my education with vegetables and fruits started in the SF Bay Area markets during my graduate school years. I first had fresh brussel sprouts (good), fresh mushrooms (delicious), fresh local Gravenstein apples (great), peaches, apricots, and plums straight from the Central Valley (fabulous), and learned about so many unusual vegetables in the Chinese and other ethnic restaurants that were springing up in the late 70's and early 80's in the melting pot that was the SF Bay Area even then.

But moving to SE Georgia in the mid 80's was interesting in a different way. Southern cooking with its greens, fried fish, and biscuits and gravy were a long way from the plain cooking of my youth or the Schezuan restaurants in Chinatown. A new, older colleague who was a keen organic vegetable gardener was amazed when I said I had never eaten kale, or turnips, or collards. I quickly learned to appreciate the greens at a local restaurant, where the fried whiting was a Friday night standard. A bit salty, by today's tastes, but delicious with a bit of Texas Pete.

Today, I stir-fry homegrown greens of all sorts with olive oil and garlic, and we thoroughly enjoy them. And I've grown all sorts of 'ethnic' greens from the Tuscan kale, to Russian kale, to Asian mizuna, to the pac choi. All delicious! The high-end Italian dandelion greens were more bitter than I expected, requiring par-boiling, but hopefully quite the spring tonic. And hopefully the radicchio (that was such a favorite of our nursing female squirrel) falls into that category as well.

Hummingbirds are everywhere

We've had fun watching the hummingbirds whizzing around the garden lately. Right now, it seems that we have five. An adult male, 3 females, and a juvenile male. The adult male has just arrived, probably passing through on his way south, but the others have been here for a while. The females chase each other around, but fairly companionably, and they seem to be friendly with the juvenile male. Yesterday, it almost looked like one of the females was the 'mom' and the juvenile male (he only has a few red feathers on his throat) was wanting her to feed him. We have two feeders near the porch, where we eat during nice weather (basically April to October), with an additional feeder on the other side of the house. But there are also the nectar-rich flowers of the Salvias (S. guaranitica and S. coccinea) and the coral honeysuckle (Lonicera sempervirens) and the Buddleja flowers for nectar. There are lots of insects, too, in our garden.

My gardening partner has been busy this weekend moving mulch --lots of freshly chipped trees from our campus that the tree service fellows were happy to give us (we gave them a nice 'tip'). He's moved one truckload already, to nourish the front woodland garden. The second two loads will add mulch to the back garden, and other areas. Organic matter is solid gold to add to your garden.

The lovely hummingbird image is from Early Birds: Common Backyard Birds by Millie Miller and Cyndi Johnson, Johnson Books, Boulder, CO.

Squash flowers and squash bees

I "surprised" a number of bees this morning in flowers of my vining Tromboncino squash, a Cucurbita moschata cultivar. I vaguely recalled that squash had specialist bees, and had fun finding out more about them. Early in the morning is when squash bees visit flowers (these actually looked like they spent the night). Squash bees are native bees that specialize in flowers of Cucurbita plants -- zucchini, winter squash, pumpkins, etc. They forage early in the morning, collecting nectar and pollen from both the male and female flowers.

Time to garden again

The recent rains are really encouraging. And, the temperatures look halfway moderate through the week as well, so hopefully I'll be able to sow some flats of mesclun this weekend, and some of the greens as well. I noticed one of the radicchio plants (the female squirrel's favorite) is starting to bolt. So much for thinking I might get some lovely red leaves this fall. But I think I'll sow some more. I'd better check to make sure I have some that form the lovely red heads in the spring.

Lightning, thunder, and rain, oh my....

Just after musing about planting fall vegetables yesterday, the sky darkened and the wind starting building up. We'd been away for an outing in the mountains, and my gardening partner headed off to get ready for class today. About 4 o'clock, it started pouring, the wind was howling, and whipping trees around, and for a minute, Mocha and I felt like we were in the Wizard of Oz. The power flickered and then went out. Not surprising, given the amount of wind. After things let up, but it was still drizzling, I ventured forth to see what had happened. My bean trellises in the vegetable garden had been flattened, amazingly, almost all the tomato supports had tilted over, and the basils were all askew. When I went down the road to check on what had knocked out the power, it was obvious we were lucky. Trees had fallen, bringing down the telephone lines, including some really large trees. This was no ordinary storm, but probably some kind of microburst that was localized in our neighborhood. The older subdivision behind us still had power; their lines are buried. The power came on again at 2 am.

There wasn't any damage in our yard, except for a branch from the old Pawlonia tree, tolerated for now, but on the way out. The GOOD news was that the storm brought another inch and a half of rain, sorely needed. Maybe I can plant those fall vegetables next weekend....

I came across a picture of one of my containers last fall-- a cheery sight!

Fall vegetables

The recent rain, (slightly) cooler weather, and the greening up of the garden overall have me thinking about sowing greens for fall. It certainly seemed way too hot in August to contemplate sowing broccoli for transplant and I certainly wasn't able to get chard or beet seedlings to survive, although maybe the squirrels nibbled them.

But I've had tremendous success in previous years (photo above) with a variety of greens in fall -- Tuscan kale (also known as dinosaur kale), different sorts of red kales, radicchio, and perpetual spinach (a sort of beet). Mizuna, red mustard, chard, and argula are all great, too, if there aren't too many late cabbage butterflies. Lettuces are beautiful in fall, and the really hardy winter varieties can make it through heavy frosts in mid-winter, if conditions are right. I also need to start sowing the small Violas that are so much nicer than pansies, and less demanding and take cuttings of Spanish lavender, to increase my supply.

Hooray for stray thunderstorms

We woke up sometime in the night to thunder and lightning flashes. Strong thunder and lots of crackling lightning. At first, it sounded too far away to worry about, but then unplugging the computers seemed like a good thing. Even though they’re surge-protected, we err on the side of caution. And then the unfamiliar sound of raindrops began, and they began to come down harder. I hoped briefly before going back to sleep that it might be more than just enough to wet the ground, but I didn’t expect it.

But waking up, I could see raindrops glistening on leaves outside the window. I walked out before it was light in my bare feet and bathrobe to check the rain gauge. ¾ of an inch! Yippee!

Water is key

After such a long hot summer and the dreadful heat (there's no other word for it) of the last 3 weeks, water in the garden is essential for the 'backyard' wildlife.






















The birdbath and the two additional dishes on the ground are avidly visited by birds of all sorts, squirrels, and perhaps even a chipmunk or two. I surprised a chipmunk returning from my walk a couple of mornings ago. This evening, a blue jay, not a usual visitor to the birdbath, was taking a drink.

With natural water in such short supply, it's interesting to observe how much our 'backyard' critters rely on the water we provide. It's a bit of work keeping the birdbath and dishes clean and filled up almost on a daily basis, but nice to see how it's being used so much.

I just wish it would rain. It's so odd that there are floods and continuous downpours in the Midwest, and we're in the worst heat recorded historically. The heat's so extreme, the drought isn't mentioned so much in the media, yet. Those of us who are gardeners and outdoors people realize how bad it really is. It means that fruits don't develop, leaves drop off prematurely, and lots of people who aren't noticing are going to lose plants in their landscapes.

The nature in gardening

We're fortunate to have a welcoming and peaceful garden, with lots of space. It suits us well. We've tried to re-create the sense of nature -- of 'being in the woods' -- from our part of the world, the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
The yard definitely wasn't lovely when we started, being nothing much more than a vast expanse of lawn punctuated by a few large trees, so we have the satisfaction of having nurtured it ourselves. The journey of becoming gardeners as well as botanists (there is a distinct difference between botanists, horticulturists, and gardeners, for sure) and taking pleasure in the rapid growth of many plants is continuing, as we worry about this year's drought and drag the hoses around.

Our garden is largely a native one, but still is suffering from the lack of rain, especially some species. The Joe-Pye that I love because of its attractiveness to butterflies is more than sadly droopy in the afternoon heat, in spite of all the extra water we've given it, even in the low-lying swale. The pleasure that I have being out in the garden is such a respite from stressful days. And the view from my study window makes up for being behind the computer. Noticing things like a sudden descent of a group of blackbirds gives me a break from whatever is demanding my attention.

I had an experience this summer that I was reminded of recently. In DC for a conference, each morning as I walked to the conference hotel, I passed an activity center for homeless people. By eight am, a good number of people were outside waiting for the center to open. One morning, I noticed a middle-aged woman digging in a small bed she had created next to the building. She was 'planting' weeds in small holes that she had carefully dug. She looked up at me as I walked by, and beamed.

Monarchs flying through

Seeing more butterflies now is encouraging after so many weeks of none to few. The monarchs are one of the signs that fall is coming, a welcome thought in these weeks of upper 90° weather, parched earth, drooping plants, and no rain in sight.


Monarchs spend the winter in north-central Mexico and the fall and spring migration usually comes through South Carolina. The last temperate zone generation of adults triggered by the short days and cooler temperatures are the ones that make the final flight, the successive generations fueled by the cycles from adult to egg, caterpillar, and chrysalis, all on milkweed. Their visits to nectar-rich flowers are fun to watch, especially in light of the remarkable migration that occurs. Here was a monarch visiting a zinna -- a great butterfly flower because of easy perching and abundant nectar.

Tromboncino squash vines

Tromboncino squash are really amazing. I first tried them as a squash vine borer-resistant zucchini-like squash. Here in SC, my yellow squash and zucchini efforts have resulted in only a few fruits before the vines succumb to borers. But Tromboncino squash are tough customers-- a different species than zucchini and yellow squash, and hailing from Italy and the Mediterranean (they're actually related to winter squash, Cucurbita moschata 'Tromba d'Albenga'), they grow robust, sprawling vines that root at the nodes, and their stems are borer-resistant. Unfortunately, in the satellite garden, where I've had two years of rampant vine growth (and abundant squash production), the hungry woodchucks have been nibbling any plants I put out there to the ground. So I transplanted some fresh seedlings from my main vegetable garden, and have been training the vines on the fence.

Notice the growth in the transplanted vine along the fence in the picture above!

Butterflies and caterpillars

I've been watching tiger swallowtails do their spiral courtship dance near the phlox this morning. The black one is the female, the yellow the male. She'll lay her eggs on all sorts of host plants -- tulip poplar, ash, and black cherry, among others. It's great to see some butterflies now after such a poor season to date. The April freeze followed by drought must have really taken its toll on butterflies, since they've been conspicuously absent up until now.

One of my first forays into gardening as an adult was gardening for butterflies. In spite of being a biologist, I had no idea of what caterpillars or butterflies ate, not much about their life cycles, and certainly little about their feeding preferences. My fellow students did pollination projects, and my best friend reared caterpillars in plastic bags as part of her research, but I was oblivious to the nuances.

But, starting to learn about butterflies, their host plants, and caterpillars was fascinating, and I quickly became hooked. Expanding my attention to all sorts of garden insects, birds, and other wildlife was the next step and has been wonderful fun.

Only just now am I starting to see the striped caterpillars of black swallowtail butterflies, here munching on a fennel flower in the vegetable garden.

Passionflowers and carpenter bees

At mid-day in the meadow, the passionflowers open up. Our native passionflower (Passiflora incarnata) is a lovely sprawling vine (sometimes a bit too sprawling, but it's easily pulled up when it gets out of hand). Each flower only lasts for a day, fading quickly. They're pollinated by carpenter bees, who drink the nectar pooled at the base of the flowers. I noticed this bee busily working one of the flowers about noon. Check out the pollen on its back! It's such a great example of how flower shape is adapted to promote cross-pollination. As the carpenter bee takes up nectar, pollen is continuously brushed on its back, to be transferred to the next flower visited.

This bee had so much pollen on its back that it was getting down around its mouthparts. Apparently, the pollen doesn't taste good, so she/he busily cleaned up, taking a break from nectar drinking.

Yard long beans and ants

I've loved growing yard long beans (Vigna unguiculata ssp. sesquipedalis) for the last few years; they're so unusual-looking, productive, and tasty, with the added bonus of beautiful flowers and attractive foliage. I first noticed yard long beans in Asian markets, marveling at their size and the flexibility of the pods. They're incredibly heat-tolerant, being native to Africa, and are easy to grow. (They were first domesticated somewhere in North Africa, and then spread throughout Africa, India, and Asia. In the process, cowpeas and yard long beans were selected for their different characteristics.) Interestingly, an older gardener in Belton told me that her mother grew yard long beans here in SC, perhaps the field pea relative that's also viney. Cowpeas are documented to have been brought from Africa by slaves. Yard long beans (also commonly called asparagus beans) can be snipped up and cooked like green beans, and have a lovely taste. Another nice aspect is their beautiful flowers, which have extrafloral nectaries visited actively by ants.

Heat and more heat

I heard on the radio today to expect the heat wave to continue through late August. This was not welcome news. The afternoon thunderstorms have been non-existent lately and even the hardy perennials need watering. My friend Meg's husband Joey grew up in this area, and remembers that the thunderstorms came like clockwork every afternoon at three. Not much evidence of them currently.

I ran the hose on all of my vegetables (they're waterhogs, of course), but we're now watering plants that normally never droop.

A climate change specialist mentioned on our public radio station today that rain events more than an inch had greatly increased over the last decades. It went from something like 8% of rainfall events were over an inch to 12 or 15%.

Stifling heat and parched soil

It's been pretty miserable for plants (and people) in the garden. The temperatures are close to 100° F ; it doesn't get below 70° degrees F at night and I don't even want to think about the humidity. Walking in the morning seems like a wet blanket envelopes the landscape, making it almost hard to breath. Morning and evening are tolerable, and the luminous light, because of the humidity, is some compensation. The vegetables, even the hardy sorts, are looking wan. The trombocino squash twining on the fence away from the thirsty woodchucks suffers from not being able to benefit from the abundant adventitious roots at each node. The large leaves predictably wilt each afternoon, recovering later on.

Milkweed bugs at different stages on the butterfly weed pods were a diversion. They're seed predators, pretty and easy to raise, so a popular classroom insect.

We're running the hose on even some really hardy plants. This evening, the oakleaf hydrangeas and Salvia guaranitica (Anise blue sage) were droopy and will benefit from evening refreshment. Unfortunately, there's no rain in the forecast.

Squirrels and salad?

In a optimistic mood, I sowed Treviso radicchio in the spring, thinking that I'd have nice small red leaves, in spite of the approaching summer heat. Unfortunately, Treviso radicchio turns red in cool weather, so I've had a lovely robust green patch all summer long; it's trouble-free but too bitter to eat without leaching out the bitter compounds before cooking, and then it's tough. I've left it in the garden as an experiment. I'm hoping that cool fall weather will mellow the taste, and encourage the leaves to actually look like radicchio. I had some lovely round heads a couple of seasons ago that were beautiful in the winter garden. So imagine my surprise when something started nibbling on a few leaves. We first thought maybe squirrels were using the flexible leaves in their summer nests, but I thought that the bitterness would deter them from too much activity. Yesterday evening, however, we had quite a surprise. The culprit (a cute female squirrel who's actually nursing according to a wildlife biologist friend of ours) was in full view of the kitchen window munching away. Who knew that squirrels like salad!

Summer bees and flowers

There are so many kinds of native bees, in addition to the introduced honeybee. They've been fun to learn about and observe in different flowers.



The big carpenter bees with their smooth black abdomens are the biggest, except for the occasional queen bumblebee. They visit a variety of different flowers, and are strong flyers. They're not above 'robbing' nectar from Salvias, either, poking holes at the base of the flowers, thereby circumventing entering the flower 'correctly'.

All of the smaller bees are fun to watch gathering pollen. These were visiting native Helianthus hirsutus and Rudbeckia fulgida flowers in the meadow.





There's a specialist bee that collects pollen from these portulaca flowers in one of my containers, but I wasn't able to catch it in a photo.