Jonquils and Iris

I was staring out the kitchen window, looking at the jonquil patch beside the garden, and realized the jonquils, about to burst into flower, really need to be divided to continue thriving.

Not that this is the best time of year to be dividing things, but I decided they would like nice in the orchard, which just last year was a mess of multiflora rose, garlic mustard, and honeysuckle. The apple trees are still so small, it looks a bit stark. Nitro and I went down to the orchard, and decided that yes, the jonquils would look lovely, but I should rally plant some iris first as a backdrop, as the iris grow taller. My inspection also revealed that the deer have finally discovered the tasty apple buds. On a mature tree the deer are not a problem. But if there are only a dozen buds on the tree in the first place, the deer can eat the whole thing. Apples will stump-sprout, but as they are all grafts…the fruit will not be tasty.

My work cut out for me, I went out to a field by a former farmstead, where the feral iris are thriving in a myriad of colors amidst the brome grass and occasional big bluestem, and dug two up two five-gallon buckets of rhizomes. Once they were all cleaned up they yielded 70 plants.

Rhizomes, separated and ready for planting.

Into the ground they went, and then, just as the rain was starting, I fenced the trees. Definitely not good enough to be a permanent deer barrier-I supplemented my metal fencing with previously cut thorny debris, including multiflora rose and black locust branches. But it will save the trees for a little while longer. Here we are, two weeks later, and I realized the jonquils…still haven’t been divided. A project that will just have to wait until fall, which they will prefer anyway.

Spring in the Orchard Nursery

Today, I finished grafting my 50 apple trees for the spring. Last year, I grafted two. Both died. This year, I changed things up a bit: a good left-handed grafting knife and M7 root stock that looked extraordinarily robust. Of course a lot more practice may help.

So what’s going in the nursery? Fresh eating apples (Malus domestica): Ashmead’s Kernel – Atlas – Black Gilliflower – Calville Blanc d’Hiver – Cox’s Orange Pippin – Delistein – Golden Nugget – Golden Precoce – Griffith – Grimes Golden – Hidden Rose – Late Strawberry – Livadiyskoye – Lodi – Northern Spy – Rome Beauty Law – Wealthy – Winter Sweet Paradise – Viking.  Two wild card scions from a friend: a Thomas Jefferson and an Etzel. The first is problematic because Jefferson grew a lot of different varieties of apple trees that are still in existence (and at least one that isn’t). The second is problematic because it isn’t listed anywhere. Odds are good it is a known variety, I just don’t know enough to ID it.

Nothing provides good cross-pollination better than a crab apple (Malus angustafolia). I grafted some Virginia Hewes Crab, a good cider apple which also traces its lineage to Jefferson’s estate, and Young American, which produces large fruits perfect for making jelly.

My absolute favorite variety this year is Kaz 96 08 15, a Malus sieversii. Why? Because it is the apple, a scion wood from one of the apples that started it all in Kazakhstan. I don’t care what it tastes like, though I am quite curious. All Malus domestica – the apples we eat every day, buy from the grocery store, and grow in our orchards – are descendants of the wild Malus sieversii.

Last April wildflower walk of the year…and a few other beauties

The spring wildflowers are in their second flush, as the wild plums and bloodroot are nearly finished blooming. The warm weather has brought new hues to the forest, in a crescendo of vibrant colors.

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Trillium are in full bloom, adding a deep red to the woodland forest.
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The red oaks rely on wind for pollination, so their pollen is usually viewed as a radiating golden hue in the tree tops. This small branch was brought down in the wind, allowing me to admire the rich color and delicate leaves more closely.
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No true morels, yet. But we found a large patch of these rusty-eared gnarly beauties, with their untraceable folds and delicate ripples.
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The jack in the pulpit’s green on green provides subtle grace and requires a careful look, before the show-stopping red berries in the fall..
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Bellworts add their bright yellow to the edge of the woodland.

Emerging Spring

Spring is emerging all around, from the chorus frogs and red wing blackbirds calling from the wetland to the wildflowers emerging in the woodlands.

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Snow trilliums are the first of the spring ephemerals blooming this year. They are as important to the spring pollinators as the pollinators (in this case, a fly) are to them.
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The squil is also just starting to bloom. While not native, it is not posing an invasive problem here. As more of it blooms, it will provide a critical source of pollen for the honeybees.
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The skunk cabbage are just emerging up Bena Brook.

A woodland treasure hunt

Random acts of wildness are not something I’m really good at. Oh, I’m all about being in the wild, and my attention is easily diverted by any random thing when outside. Mushroom! Snake! Bat! But my forays beyond my yard tend to be…planned. Dog. Leash. Water for me. Water for dog. Destination selection. Coordinating friends, who all love the idea of wilding away, but, but, but something else is almost always going on. Meanwhile, nature carries on, heedless of my attention or lack thereof. Which is good…

The bloodroot leaves are bigger than my hand.

…because their are treasures to be found. The bloodroot leaves have grown bigger than my hand, and the verdant green provides a backdrop for some of Iowa’s rare treasures.

When I was a kid, I loved the smooth, perfect swells of the orchid blossoms, the way they could grow in the air, and the way they needed perpetual heat and humidity year round. Despite sweltering Midwestern summers, the frigid winters made the landscape inhospitable. I would repeatedly buy ones that “could” live indoors, and I would take them home, where they would never flower and gradually die.

But I was oh-so-wrong about one thing. There are actually 32 species of orchid that live in Iowa, and a woodland treasure hunt this month at the Indian Creek Nature Center revealed two.

Showy orchis
Showy orchis
This is the more rare yellow lady slipper. Because of its beauty, people are tempted to dig them and take them home. Because of their strong underground mycorrhizal associations, they seldom survive transplant-leaving a hole in the woods they came from, as well as a hole in the receiving garden.
Yellow lady slipper

The yellow lady slipper is far more rare than the showy orchis. Because of their beauty, people are tempted to dig them and take them home. Because of their strong underground mycorrhizal associations, they seldom survive transplant-leaving a hole in the woods they came from, as well as a hole in the receiving garden. Not quite The Orchid Thief, but I only found one lady slipper on my walk.  The beautiful rare delicacy of these flowers reminds me that if I just go outside, nature will provide the random wildness.

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30 Days Wild

 

30 Days Wild

Being in Iowa in the springtime is being immersed in a million shades of green unfurling around you.

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Nitro and I started and ended the 30×30 Nature Challenge in the hammock-it has gotten us pumped up about 30 Days Wild.

For 30 Days Wild, engage in a random act of wildness every day with us-you’re only limited by your imagination.

 

Take a walk in the woods, and discover what's blooming in your backyard.
We are starting the 30 Days Wild with a full moon walk, as the fireflies are beginning to dance in the evening.

 

 

 

 

 

Return of the hummingbirds

The ruby-throated hummingbirds have returned. I haven’t seen one yet, but I’ve been keeping a casual eye on http://www.hummingbirds.net/map.html to track their migration north, and they have definitely been spotted in this area over the past few days.

That means it’s time to put up the hummingbird feeder. The hummingbirds will stick around for the summer and find plenty to feed on without our help. Putting out the feeder gives us an opportunity to watch their aerial acrobatics up close on a regular basis. They have distinct personalities, and don’t hesitate to find us in the yard and complain loudly if we don’t keep sugar water in the feeder. We have columbines planted for them as well, but the flowers haven’t quite started to bloom yet.

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By Gabrielle Anderson, from the pages of Hunting Red.