Parasite

Mistletoe, Phoradendron leucarpum

Mistletoe, Phoradendron leucarpum, suddenly and inexplicably disappeared from local ecosystems several years ago. Although it was unlikely completely gone, no one could find any. Carcasas of deceased specimens deteriorated and fell slowly in pieces from their host trees. Regeneration has been a very slow process, and in some local ecosystems, does not seem to be happening at all.

If botanists are aware of what happened to the mistletoe, they are not sharing what they know. Arborists are amazed by such sudden death of mistletoe that they had been unable to eliminate from infested trees. Some believe that it was the result of distress of host trees. However, it is unlikely that all host trees, including many within cultivated and irrigated landscapes, could have been so similarly distressed at the same time. Disease could be the primary culprit. There is even a possibility that mistletoe, the most familiar plant parasite, succumbed to another parasite.

Similar die off of various species of mistletoe has been observed within various other ecosystems, at various times, and with various rates of recovery. Perhaps several factors are involved, either individually or in any variety of combination. Because mistletoe is generally considered to be undesirable, investigation of such die off is minimal.

I noticed this particular mistletoe within the same Oregon white oaks in Oregon that I wrote about yesterday. It seems to be adequately healthy and unaffected by whatever killed mistletoe here. I do not remember if it had died off previously, and is now recovering. For all I know, it could be in the process of dying off right now. Mistletoe might be more efficiently controlled or even eliminated from infested trees within cultivated landscapes if someone could identify what kills it naturally. After all, it is a famously persistent and potentially very distressing parasite.

Oakland

Oregon white oak, Quercus garryana

Oakland, fifty miles north of here, was named for the oaks that formerly inhabited it. Imagine that! Although valley oak, Quercus lobata, is native, and assumed to be the origin of the regional name, coast live oak, Quercus agrifolia, was likely more abundant there at the time.

Of the many other towns in California with horticultural names, a few are also named for unspecified oaks, including del Rey Oaks, Oakdale, Oakley and Thousand Oaks. Encinitas, Live Oak and the Encino neighborhood of Los Angeles are named more specifically for coast live oak. Paso Robles is named more specifically for valley oak.

Oakland and Oakridge are the only two towns that I could find in Oregon that are named for Oaks. I suspect that Oakland is named for Oregon white oak, Quercus garryana, only because that is the most prominent species of oak there. It is also native here, although I am not aware if I have ever encountered it locally. It resembles small specimens of valley oak, which, incidentally, is also known as California white oak.

This picture of a few main limbs of an exemplary specimen of Oregon white oak is from Cabin Creek Rest Stop on Southbound Highway 5, just north of Oakland in Oregon. To me, it looks sort of Californian, like something that, a long time ago, was more prominent in Oakland here in California, on ‘the Bright Side of the Bay’.

Six on Saturday: Double Whammy!

Rhody, Carson and I are back from vacation. Now I see that I did not get many pictures

1. If this looks like the same major stockpile of vegetation from Skooter’s Garden (Tangly Cottage Gardening) that I posted a picture of last week, it is because it is. The difference is that it is here at home now. Goodness, it will be a busy week of division and plugging.

2. Cerinthe seed are in the pill bottle to the lower right of the previous picture. So is that obstinate pill to the left. I should have tried cerinthe by now, and this is my justification.

3. Poinciana and esperanza seed from Crazy Green Thumbs are the second of my double whammy! They were likely in my mail before we left on vacation, but we left town before the Post Office was open. Shamefully, they will be my second attempt for both species. It is a long and embarrassing story. This particular poinciana is more commonly known as dwarf poinciana, Caesalpinia pulcherrima. This particular esperanza is more commonly known as yellow bells, Tecoma stans. ‘Esperanza’ means ‘hope’, which I have enough of.

4. My vacation was scheduled to be as late in winter as possible but prior to the bloom of apple trees because I intended to prune eleven apple trees while still dormant. All eleven trees are pruned, and their formerly fresh detritus is gone. Sweet Brown would approve.

5. Bonsai stock is what my Pa grows on his farm where the pruned apple trees and other old fruit trees live. Goodness, I really should have stayed later, and taken more pictures.

6. Star magnolia performs very well in the Pacific Northwest. I rarely see them any more than five feet tall locally. This is an awkward picture because I took it from a moving car.

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/

Sky Lupine

Sky lupine grows wild here. (This may actually be arroyo lupine.)

If California poppy were not the State Flower of California, sky lupine, Lupinus nanus, might be. Even though the perfect blue of sky lupine is the opposite of the perfect orange of California poppy, both of these brightly colorful flowers have several similarities, and are often sown together in autumn or winter for their early spring bloom. Both are native to western North America, but are very commonly displaced by exotic (non native) plants. As natives, they can easily self sow if competing specie are controlled. Both are satisfied with annual rainfall. As long as they are not watered too much in poorly draining soils, they are not too discriminating about soil. They do want full sun though.

Sky lupine is an annual that does not get very large, no more than two feet high and half as wide. It seems to be more colorful where it is kept less than a foot high by good sun exposure and wind. The finely textured, palmately compound foliage (divided into smaller leaflets that are arranged in a palmate pattern) gives it width, but only the lower half of its height. The upper half is its narrow spikes of small, neatly arranged ‘pea-shaped’ flowers.

Weeding Season

Weeds pull up relatively easily while the soil is still damp from winter rain.

My garden may lack the sort of ‘riot of color’ that landscapers like to promote to achieve the other popular cliché of a ‘tranquil garden retreat’, but is the victim of a different kind of violence. The desirable plants and undesirable weeds are about as compatible as the terms ‘riot’ and ‘tranquil’ are. Recently, the weeds have been gaining ground in the ongoing battle between the two. In another heroic effort to help the plants that I want in my garden, I will soon venture onto the battlefield to do what I can to defeat the weeds. The native sky lupine, California poppy, California fescue and some sort of native iris would otherwise be displaced by the invading oat grass, oxalis, burclover and sowthistle.

Different weeds invade other areas. Perennial weeds like nutsedge, dandelion, Bermuda grass, bindweed and brambles (blackberry) are among the worst in most areas. Annuals like purslane and spruge can be just as troublesome though. I really dislike the various twining vetches, even though they are good for the soil. Pampas grass, giant reed, blue gum eucalyptus, black acacia and Acacia dealbata are the largest weeds and the most difficult to battle.

All of the weeds that I need to contend with pull out easily while the soil is still damp from winter rains. If I do not pull them now though, they will be difficult to pull as the soil dries. Broom, the nastiest weed in my garden, comes out relatively easily now, but is ridiculously hard to pull from dry soil. Brambles and poison oak also come out easier now like the rest of the weeds, but are of course always difficult to handle.

Sometimes, if I do not have enough time to pull all the weeds in an area, I at least like to keep them from spreading if possible. If I cut annual oat grass down with a weed whacker before it blooms and sets seed, it is unable to reproduce to replace itself before it dies at the end of its season. This also works for sowthistle. Dandelion is perennial, so does not die at the end of its season, but will not spread so aggressively without its flowers or seed.

This has not worked so well with other weeds. Spurge sets seed before I catch it. Yellow oxalis and nutsedge reproduce more profusely by offsets than by seed. Bermuda grass is a creeping perennial that does not mind if it loses its seed. Burclover and bindweed are so low to the ground that pulling them is the only option. Broom and the various weed trees may initially be deprived of their seed, but are harder to pull when they regenerate after getting cut back.

Regardless of what it takes, this is the best time of year to get weeds under control. Later in the season, they will have had time to set seed or get more established. As the soil dries and gets baked by the sun, pulling weeds, or in some cases, digging them, becomes more difficult.

Bearded Iris

Bearded iris blooms after spring bulbs.

There may be no other flowers that exhibit such a diverse range of floral colors. Bearded iris, Iris X germanica, classifies as a hybrid of Iris pallida and Iris variegata. The genus of Iris derives its name from the Greek word for rainbow. As the name implies, it includes all colors of the spectrum. Floral form, height and, for some, fragrance is also quite variable.

About sixty thousand cultivars of bearded iris are supposedly documentable. It is difficult to estimate how many lack documentation. The smaller miniature cultivars are only a few inches tall. The tallest cultivars may grow four feet tall. Although they classify as summer bulbs, they are fleshy rhizomes that bloom for spring. Some will bloom again for autumn.

Bearded iris multiply whether or not anyone wants them to. Their rhizomes branch in two directions after bloom. Besides that, side shoots develop randomly from plump rhizomes. Congested rhizomes may bloom less. Division during summer promotes bloom. Division may happen annually or every few years. Bearded iris prefer sunny and warm exposure.

Deadheading Redirects Resources For Growth

Deteriorating flowers lose their appeal fast.

Early spring bulbs that went into their gardens last autumn are now blooming. Some are already done. Some summer bulbs should begin to bloom as the last spring bulbs finish. A few of them might bloom as late as autumn. Ultimately, like the earliest of spring bulbs, all eventually finish. As they do, their deteriorating flowers will necessitate deadheading.

Deadheading is simply the removal of deteriorating blooms. For many species, it diverts resources from fruiting into other growth. Many species can utilize diverted resources for subsequent bloom. Many become more intent on blooming again after deprivation of any prior fruiting. Spring bulbs instead utilize all their diverted resources for new bulb growth.

For spring bulbs, it is the most practical response to deadheading. Most bloom only once annually. Therefore, they can not divert resources directly to subsequent bloom. Instead, they prioritize vegetative growth of bulbs to grow and bloom for the next spring. They are patient. Reproduction remains their priority. They merely regroup before another attempt.

Because of extensive breeding, many spring bulbs can not produce viable seed anyway. Of course, this does not prevent them from trying. Even seeding or fruiting structures that contain no viable seed can be unappealing. For them, deadheading is merely aesthetic. Some complicated hybrids that might produce viable seed are unlikely to be true to type.

Elimination of viable seed that is not true to type is as practical as it is aesthetic. Without deadheading, such seed can grow into feral progeny. Such ferals may be more similar to remote ancestors than to their direct parents. They can be aesthetically inferior, but more prolific. Eventually, less desirable feral bulbs may displace their more desirable parents.

Because they are small but abundant, some freesia avoid deadheading. Resultant ferals are more fragrant but less colorful with pale white bloom. They are more prolific, so might eventually displace their parents. Common grape hyacinth and snowflake are too florific to deadhead, but are true to type. Actually, they can become invasive in some situations. Montbretia are very likely to be invasive.

R & R

Rhody in Skooter’s Garden

Rhody is very proficient with Rest & Relaxation. He has been doing quite a bit of it since we left on vacation at midnight last Monday morning. He rode about eight hundred seventy miles mostly on the rear deck so that others on the road with us could observe him doing so. Since arrival in Western Washington, he has been snuggling with others whom he encounters while also engaging in similar activities. This illustrations demonstrates how expertly he engaged in rest & relaxation in Skooter’s Garden.

Although not as proficient as Rhody is, I also have been engaging in a significant rest & relaxation. This is why I have not written as much as I typically write about horticultural topics during the past several days. Although I am aware that I must compose my gardening column by Wednesday, I have deferred most other writing. If it seems otherwise, it is only because my gardening column posts in two sections on both Mondays and Tuesdays, and old articles are recycled for both Thursdays and Fridays. My negligence is more apparent only on Wednesdays and weekends. I should return from vacation on Thursday or Friday, so might resume more typical blogging before too many notice.