Weed Abatement Beyond Refined Gardens

Dry weeds can be very combustible.

Gardening involves weeds. Gardening outside of refined gardens involves more weeds. A few of such weeds are native species which grow where they are undesirable. Most of the most aggressive are naturalized exotic species. Collectively, they are an unpleasant consequence of unmanageable external biodiversity. They necessitate weed abatement.

Weed abatement is a standard procedure within refined gardens. Most know it simply as weeding. Ideally, it is harmless to desirable vegetation. It may be a relatively simple task where desirable vegetation excludes weeds. Also, weeds are less abundant where they lack sources of seed to regenerate. Timely weeding should eliminate much of their seed.

Unfortunately, no garden is isolated from external influences. Weed seed sneaks in from uncultivated spaces, adjacent gardens or beyond. Suburban and rural gardens might be close to wildlands or forests. Many of such weed seed sources are beyond the control of their victims. Some are merely easy to ignore because they are out of view or not in use.

For some unused or unseen areas, weed whacking can be more practical than weeding. It entails cutting undesirable vegetation almost to grade with a motorized weed whacker. Manual weed whackers, although rare, are not extinct. Weed whackers are not selective. They can sever desirable annuals or perennials that mingle with undesirable vegetation.

The primary advantage of weed whacking is that it is fast and efficient. With good timing, it eliminates bloom or developing seed prior to dispersion of seed. Diminishment of seed inhibits subsequent proliferation, and is much safer for pets. Foxtail seed are notoriously hazardous. Besides, overgrown weed vegetation becomes a fire hazard as it desiccates.

Viable basal stems and roots that remain after weed whacking are not much of an asset. Many types of perennial and biennial weeds regenerate from such growth. However, to a very minor degree, such vegetation may contribute to healthy biodiversity. It may sustain some beneficial insects and soil microorganisms. Also, it can inhibit surface soil erosion.

July 12, 2024 – Memorial Tree Update (July 14)

The Memorial Tree is becoming a productive member of its ecosystem!

Every year, there is less to write about regarding the Memorial Tree in Felton Covered Bridge Park. That is because every year, it becomes more independent. It no longer needs structure pruning for clearance above the surrounding parking lot. It no longer benefits from supplemental irrigation. The mesh around the base of the trunk really should be removed. So should the truss between the two lowest main limbs. The stake remains merely as a precaution for strong winds, but is likely completely unnecessary. It can be removed after defoliation next winter. The trunk is quite sturdy. Growth is quite vigorous. The branch structure seems to be rather awkward, but such structure is normal for such young specimens of this particular species, and is very unlikely to compromise structural integrity as the tree matures. The canopy is slightly asymmetrical, but not problematically so. The crew who maintains the park replenishes the mulch within the parking lot island around the tree more regularly than they had in the past, and cuts weeds when necessary. They are very protective of this tree, so pull weeds between the trunk and the surrounding mesh rather than get too close to the trunk with their weed whackers. Recently, a neighbor pulled weeds before weed whacking became necessary. Although oaks can technically bloom and produce acorns after only about five years, almost all delay bloom until they are about twenty years old, and some wait until they are twice as old. A lack of bloom this early is therefore normal. The development of two oak apples was a surprise though. Apparently, an oak apple gall moth considers this tree to be mature enough to sustain its eggs. It is as if this little Memorial Tree is already growing up to become a productive member of its ecosystem!

From the ground, I could not get a good picture of these first oak apples.

Perennial Gladiolus

Gladiolus papilio, butterfly gladiolus

Gladiolus papilio, butterfly gladiolus has been performing very well, and, unlike the more common fancy hybrid gladiolus, it has been very reliably perennial. It multiplies and migrates like a wildflower. I know that I brag about it more than I should, and I just posted a picture of it for Six on Saturday last Saturday, but it happens to be one of my favorite perennials now. It was a gift from Tangly Cottage Gardening in the autumn of 2018, almost six years ago. Prior to that, I had been wanting to grow perennial gladiolus for quite a while, although I was not familiar with such species. I was only familiar with the common fancy hybrid sorts, which are generally not reliably perennial. Gladiolus murielae, Abyssinian gladiolus that arrived a few years ago as a gift from a neighbor may eventually inhabit a different portion of the same landscape that the butterfly gladiolus inhabits. It neither multiplies nor migrates as much as the butterfly gladiolus, and is a bit more garish in bloom, but is both reliably perennial and compatible with wildflowers, and technically, is probably more appropriate to that particular refined landscape. Various cultivars of Watsonia, bugle lily, most of which also came from Tangly Cottage Gardening, could also inhabit the same landscape. There is no rush to decide anytime soon, and the refined landscapes at work are constantly evolving. Within my home garden, I can be less concerned with how visually compatible some of such species and cultivars are, and be more concerned with growing what I enjoy. After all, that is how I acquire so many odd species and cultivars with so much history and from so many important gardens, and even from so many natural ecosystems. It is what makes my home garden so important to me.

Six on Saturday: ‘Variegata’

‘Variegata’ is a common designation for the first variegated cultivar of a species. Fancier or later distinct cultivars get fancier cultivar designations. The first three of these six are variegated, but lack a cultivar designation as if variegation is normal for the species. The fourth seems to have a few cultivars with the same designation. The last two could be the only variegated cultivars of their respective species. I can not remember ever seeing any of the first four without variegation. The fifth is still rare. The sixth is now more popular than unvariegated.

1. Hypoestes phyllostachya, polka dot plant lacks cultivar designation. This was labeled merely as white. Variation of foliar variegation indicate that they were grown from seed.

2. Hypoestes phyllostachya, polka dot plant is also pink, which is exactly how this other half of them was labeled, likewise without cultivar designation. ‘Variegata’ would suit it.

3. Hypoestes phyllostachya, polka dot plant variegation is variable. Some specimens are more green than others. At least two of the pink sort are variegated with red such as this.

4. Aucuba japonica ‘Variegata’, gold dust plant is about as variable as polka dot plant is, but is known by the same cultivar name. Of course, modern cultivars have other names.

5. Tupidanthus calyptratus ‘Variegata’, mallet flower was not planned. I have wanted to grow the typical unvariegated type since I met it in 1986. Brent sent me this raggedy old but rare variegated specimen so that I would grow more for him. I am learning to like it.

6. Solandra maxima ‘Variegata’, cup of gold vine was also unplanned. I grew the typical unvariegated type to the left first. Then, Brent got me the variegated cultivar to the right. I am getting to like it because it is more docile. The unvariegated sort grows like a weed!

This is the link for Six on Saturday, for anyone else who would like to participate: https://thepropagatorblog.wordpress.com/2017/09/18/six-on-saturday-a-participant-guide/

Godetia

All but one species of Clarkia are native somewhere in California.

Like California poppy, sky lupine and various other native wildflowers, godetia, Clarkia amoena, seems to prefer its own space. However, it is somewhat more adaptable than some other natives are to regular irrigation and coexisting with exotic (non-native) wildflowers that are not too overpowering. It is a common component in wildflower mixes, and is more likely than most to naturalize after the other wildflowers have died out. 

It is best to sow godetia seed in autumn, directly where the flowers are wanted, so that the seed get watered in by rain and begin to grow through winter and early spring. Bloom begins later in spring or early summer. In areas that do not get watered regularly, occasional watering prolongs bloom. Fertilizer can actually interfere with bloom though. As bloom finishes, deteriorating plants should be left to disperse seed for the following year.

The two inch wide flowers are typically pink or purplish with red blotches or veining. Some are very pale pink or nearly white with deeper pink blotches at their centers. Most godetia are only about a foot or two tall. ‘Dwarf Gem’ stays less than a foot tall. Taller types get nearly three feet tall. The lanky stems are adorned with narrow light bluish green leaves that are about half an inch to one and a half inches long.   

Seemingly Complicated Latin Names Simplify Nomenclature.

Tecoma stans has only one Latin name, but a few common names; esperanza, yellow bells, yellow elder, yellow bignonia and trumpet bush.

If I remember correctly, it was Wednesday evenings when my three college roommates and I would gather in the parlor of our apartment on Boysen Street in San Luis Obispo to watch Star Trek: the Next Generation. One of my roommates, who has since returned to Cal Poly as a professor of rangeland resource management, traditionally made cornbread for the occasion . . .  with butter and honey . . . mmm. So, for half an hour each week, we learned more about the remotely futuristic cultures of planets many light years away than about our studies.

Thanks to a contraption referred to only on rare occasion as the ‘universal translator’, nearly everyone in this quadrant of the galaxy will be able to understand each other within the next four centuries. No matter what language is spoken, it will all be perceived as the same universal language. Unfortunately, the ‘universal translator’ has not yet been invented. The many languages used on this single planet will consequently continue to interfere with accurate communication.

This is why horticulturists, biologists, and many other professionals who may interact with colleagues who speak other languages or even slightly different regional dialects use Latin to identify, among other things, biological organisms. Latin names may be cumbersome to pronounce and daunting to spell, but are universal to those of us who use them. This is important because the ‘common names’ are so regionally variable. 

For example, some of the European maples that we know as maples here are known as sycamores in England, but are known everywhere by their Latin name of Acer. (Latin is traditionally italicized.) Similarly, North American sycamores that are known as maples, planes or plane trees in various regions are all likewise known everywhere by their Latin name of Platanus. With few exceptions, the universality of Latin names facilitates accurate identification.

Latin names are therefore very helpful when researching plants. A tree known simply as a ‘cedar’ might be a calocedrus, arborvitae, juniper, cypress, chamaecyparis or a true cedar just to name a few. Knowing that this particular tree is more specifically a ‘red cedar’ perhaps limits the possibilities to arborvitae or juniper. (Differentiation between ‘Eastern’ and ‘Western’ red cedars is often neglected in the East and West where the respective cedar is predominant.) Identifying the tree as a Juniperus virginiana will help us find the most accurate information about it, even though it is not really a cedar at all, but a juniper.   

North & South

pink jasmine, Jasminum polyanthum

Brent and I studied horticulture through the second half of the 1980s at California Polytechnic State University at San Luis Obispo, which is known more simply as Cal Poly. San Luis Obispo is exactly halfway between where each of us came from. He came from the region west of Los Angeles, two hundred miles to the southeast, which is considered to be south by the standards of California. I came from the region west of San Jose, two hundred miles to the northwest, which is considered to be north by the standards of California. He considered San Luis Obispo to be within Northern California. I considered it to be within Southern California. Consequently, when either of us encountered a species with which we lacked prior experience, we assumed it to be regionally popular within the respectively unfamiliar half of California. Such assumptions were accurate for some species. For example, Brent was as fascinated with redwoods as I was with desert fan palms. He knew that redwoods are more popular here than in Southern California, and eventually went to experience them growing wild within their native range near Santa Cruz. I knew that desert fan palms are more popular in Southern California than here, and eventually went to experience them growing wild within their native range near Palm Springs. Pink jasmine, Jasminum polyanthum, was an odd one. Because Brent had never encountered it before, he assumed that it had been popular in Northern California. Because I had never encountered it before, I assumed that it had been popular in Southern California. In actuality, it only became commonly available throughout California at about the time that we encountered it, so had previously been popular neither here nor there. Nonetheless, to Brent, it is still as northern as it is southern to me.

Perennial Pea

Perennial pea is a naturalized wildflower.

Now that the weather is getting hot, perennial pea, Lathyrus latifolius, is finishing bloom. It needs warmth to bloom, so can begin between the middle or end of spring. However, it shrivels in heat, so can finish between the beginning and middle of summer. Sometimes, it can bloom for almost three months. Sometimes, it finishes almost as soon as it starts.

Perennial pea is more popular as a naturalized wildflower than within home gardens. Its seed is rarely available from nurseries. Young seedlings might not grow very big initially. Mature specimens can vigorously climb and creep more than seven feet in any direction. Their fibrous perennial roots are very difficult to kill. Propagation by root division is easy.

Almost all perennial pea blooms with an abundance of bright pinkish magenta flowers. A rare few bloom with slightly striated light pink flowers. A bit fewer bloom with bright white flowers. Bloom resembles that of annual sweet pea, but is less frilly and lacks fragrance. Slightly bluish foliage and stems have a soft texture, and recover slowly from disruptions. Any parts can be toxic if ingested.

Insect Pathogens Prefer Less Biodiversity

Wildflowers and even weeds promote biodiversity.

Weeds grow, bloom, disperse seed and die a natural death without much trouble. This is especially frustrating while insect pathogens destroy desirable vegetation. Weeds seem to be more resilient to insect infestation and damage. Many actually are. They use nature to their advantage. Cultivation of desirable vegetation interferes with natural biodiversity.

Those who enjoy gardening do not want to consider it to be unnatural. Nonetheless, it is. It involves many exotic species that are not natural components of regional ecosystems. Breeding to improve their performance unnaturally compromises their vigor. They rely on unnatural irrigation and perhaps fertilization. They sustain many exotic insect pathogens.

Most species within home gardens could not survive for long without cultivation. Several that can unfortunately become invasively naturalized. In the process, most that benefited from breeding revert to a feral status. Some eventually enjoy more biodiversity in the wild than in cultivation. They rely on naturally beneficial insects to mitigate insect pathogens.

Insect pathogens are quite often more problematic than weeds. However, generally, they are less problematic than they were years ago. This is partly a result of improvements of modern horticulture. Strangely though, it is also partly a result of sloppier gardening. Old fashioned monoculture for big areas is passe. Biodiversity became an incidental benefit.

More species of vegetation sustain more insect species. This might not have qualified as an advantage years ago. Now, garden enthusiasts are more aware that some insects are predatory of others. Predators may not eliminate all insect pathogens, but they often limit infestations. With adequate limitation, damage is likely to be tolerable or inconspicuous.

This is one of two primary reasons that insecticides are less common now. Besides their potentially hazardous toxicity, they are simply less necessary. When they are necessary, modern insecticides target more specific insects. They can kill pathogens without hurting beneficial insects. Vegetation that too frequently needs insecticides becomes unpopular.

What Is This IV?!

Rotheca myricoides / Clerodendrum myricoides ?

It is not a species of ivy. ‘IV’ is merely its Roman numeric designation as the fourth species that I am unable to identify since I started assigning numeric designations to them. So then, what is it? I suspect that it is likely Rotheca myricoides, which is alternatively known as Clerodendrum myricoides. ‘Ugandense’ is a cultivar name that, in typical modern tradition of botanic nomenclature that violates the simple standards of botanic nomenclature, now seems to be an acceptable species name in conjunction with either genus name. Its common names include butterfly flower, blue butterfly plant and blue butterfly bush, although the latter sounds more like a cultivar of Buddleia. I have not actually confirmed its identity, and I have no idea how it got into one of our landscapes. It grew under the carcass of a Brunfelsia pauciflora, yesterday, today and tomorrow, which did not survive my meager attempt to salvage it from compost. I can only assume that it arrived, most likely as an ungerminated seed, with the now deceased yesterday, today and tomorrow. It initially grew quickly with only two straight canes about four feet tall. I would have pulled it as a weed, but was intrigued by it. It did not grow much this year, but instead took time to branch, and is now taking time to bloom with these few intricate flowers on top. I am now pleased that I did not pull it as a weed. If it really is butterfly flower, it can get a bit taller than it already is. So, because it grew in front of an exemplary sasanqua camellia, I will likely relocate it to a more appropriate situation during its winter dormancy. I am fond enough of its sky blue flowers to propagate a few more copies of it.

The delicate pastel blue flowers are prettier up close.