At first, they seemed harmless, those Common Milkweed plants in the 4' x 8' perennial bed. An occasional sprout would show up in the grass during my first few years here. And one year, the aphids attacked and sucked the life out of the whole bunch. Maybe that's when they became interested in taking over, some kind of milkweed evolution took place and activated an extensive root expansion and seed propagation program.
Just a few days ago, as I surveyed the milkweed-conquered territories of my yard, I thought about asking a master gardener for help in eradicating the plants. You might be wondering why I let them take over, while I am wondering how the previous owners/gardeners managed to keep them confined. My turn from accepting and managing the wily milkweed to considering its removal had a lot to do with the reason they're here in the first place. This year there are so few Monarch butterflies in my yard.
Let me take a moment to partially explain the expansion of the Common Milkweed into new territories around my house. The Monarchs lay their eggs on the tender leaves of new sprouts, or of older plants if no little ones are available. Thus, the onward march from that tenacious underground root system, springing up into baby plants would very quickly result in those plants being host to Monarch eggs. Yes, I did pull many of those and keep them alive in a vase until the eggs hatched (but the roots didn't go away). But there were many I let stand.
So, when the butterflies didn't return, the reason-for-being of the Milkweed for me, it led me to think I could regain some sense of order in my garden. I am fortunate in my neighbors because they have not strongly urged milkweed removal (yet)!
Yesterday, while harvesting a few tomatoes and some lovely raspberries, I spotted a mama Monarch (!) fluttering from plant to plant stopping to lay eggs (this is about a month later than usual). When I moved closer to watch I saw that her wings were faded, even nearly clear in spots, as a result of the long flight here from Texas. Sometimes she flopped over just a bit, but then righted herself and kept looking for the right plants in the tumult of my verdant gardens (everything does seem to grow exuberantly). Her doggedness over that long journey, finding my yard because her ancestors were born here, made me rethink how little effort by comparison I need to exert to keep these milkweed plants.
The Monarch butterfly population (state butterfly of Minnesota by the way) is at an all-time record low. This makes me sad. I've been hand-rearing some caterpillars every year so I get to see them transform via chrysalis into butterfly. Butterfly birthdays are wonderful, and I've been here for a lot of them. I just don't know how many more years we have.
For more information on Monarchs: http://www.learner.org/jnorth/monarch/index.html; http://www.monarchlab.org/
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Friday, July 19, 2013
A Farmer Gene: Raspberries in the City
Ten years ago I moved into this house, anticipating a July raspberry harvest. Having enough room for my big dining room table somewhere near the kitchen inside and an existing raspberry patch outside being two reasons to buy this house. Sure, I'd picked berries before--wild strawberries in the ditch by my cousin's house when I was a kid, blackberries on an aunt's 40 acres in Wisconsin once (great jam, by the way), raspberries in another aunt's back yard in Duluth while fending off mosquitoes, blueberries and serviceberries in the Boundary Waters--but I'd never been the gardener for a 20x5 foot stretch of raspberries.
There were quite a few berries in 2003, so I asked my parents if they'd like to come over and pick some . My mom is a jam maker so this sounded great to her. That day I learned that her dad had a raspberry patch and he'd put on his farmer overalls, with a belt to hold the bucket handle, so he could go out and pick with both hands. Every year I'm out picking berries I think about my grandfather doing the same thing. I wonder if there's a farmer gene that gets passed from one generation to the next. When I was a teenager I got interested in our garden and my grandpa loaned me some of his Rodale magazines (organic gardening tips). There's something in me that helps me see the ripest berries, and even find them by touch alone, so I think about tuning sight to particular color, and touch to the just right softness, and maybe even smell to find those hidden berries. I learned pretty quickly that effective berry picking requires that one look at the plants from a variety of perspectives. It never fails; I think I've done a thorough job in a small area, move on, then look back and see raspberries I missed. There's my mini life lesson!
Ten years ago I didn't know much about tending a berry patch. Now I know there's a bit of work involved. After all the picking is done one waits for those fruit bearing canes to dry up just enough so they stand out in contrast to the new growth of next year's canes. Removing the dying ones makes room for strong new growth so that needs to be done in August or early September. In the early spring before any leaf buds open, I cut off about one-quarter of the cane from the top. I learned this a few years into my raspberry hobby and it increased my harvest...until the advent of the Japanese Beetles on the scene. Before things fill in too much there's some weeding to be done. Then, cheer on the pollinators! When the berries start ripening it is a daily task to keep up with the harvest, which becomes twice a day at the peak. One year I called on several people to come pick berries to take home, made two fresh glazed raspberry pies, and still had over eight gallon freezer bags full of deliciousness for jam and sorbet.
When I'm out harvesting this fabulous bounty in my Saint Paul neighborhood back yard I remember my dairy farming grandfather, I think about what it must be like to be a migrant farm worker working in fields all day instead of just for an hour, I see the variety of life that swirls around my berry patch and I am caught by the beauty of the aroma of ripening berries in the heat and sun.
Recently, my uncle and I were talking about what retirement could look like on a little hobby farm with some chickens, a big garden, and maybe a Dexter cow (he hadn't heard of that small breed) ... I think he wanted goats too. I think we both have that farmer gene.
There were quite a few berries in 2003, so I asked my parents if they'd like to come over and pick some . My mom is a jam maker so this sounded great to her. That day I learned that her dad had a raspberry patch and he'd put on his farmer overalls, with a belt to hold the bucket handle, so he could go out and pick with both hands. Every year I'm out picking berries I think about my grandfather doing the same thing. I wonder if there's a farmer gene that gets passed from one generation to the next. When I was a teenager I got interested in our garden and my grandpa loaned me some of his Rodale magazines (organic gardening tips). There's something in me that helps me see the ripest berries, and even find them by touch alone, so I think about tuning sight to particular color, and touch to the just right softness, and maybe even smell to find those hidden berries. I learned pretty quickly that effective berry picking requires that one look at the plants from a variety of perspectives. It never fails; I think I've done a thorough job in a small area, move on, then look back and see raspberries I missed. There's my mini life lesson!
Ten years ago I didn't know much about tending a berry patch. Now I know there's a bit of work involved. After all the picking is done one waits for those fruit bearing canes to dry up just enough so they stand out in contrast to the new growth of next year's canes. Removing the dying ones makes room for strong new growth so that needs to be done in August or early September. In the early spring before any leaf buds open, I cut off about one-quarter of the cane from the top. I learned this a few years into my raspberry hobby and it increased my harvest...until the advent of the Japanese Beetles on the scene. Before things fill in too much there's some weeding to be done. Then, cheer on the pollinators! When the berries start ripening it is a daily task to keep up with the harvest, which becomes twice a day at the peak. One year I called on several people to come pick berries to take home, made two fresh glazed raspberry pies, and still had over eight gallon freezer bags full of deliciousness for jam and sorbet.
When I'm out harvesting this fabulous bounty in my Saint Paul neighborhood back yard I remember my dairy farming grandfather, I think about what it must be like to be a migrant farm worker working in fields all day instead of just for an hour, I see the variety of life that swirls around my berry patch and I am caught by the beauty of the aroma of ripening berries in the heat and sun.
Recently, my uncle and I were talking about what retirement could look like on a little hobby farm with some chickens, a big garden, and maybe a Dexter cow (he hadn't heard of that small breed) ... I think he wanted goats too. I think we both have that farmer gene.
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