All posts by Elsa Johnson

Plants We Like : Actea

October 11, 2015BEAUTYElsa Johnson

by Elsa Johnson

Actea/Cimicifuga is a group of plants of long standing taxonomic uncertainty recently clarified but still confusing because they all look much alike. For the home gardener what differentiates one from another is when they bloom and what they smell like.

Actea racemosa, a plant native to eastern North America (common name Black Cohosh) grows in lightly shaded high-canopy, moist-but-well-drained open woodlands (or did when I was a child and found it growing in natural conditions on walks in the woods). It enjoys much the same conditions as our native pawpaw tree (both pollinated by blowflies and beetles) and native calycanthus (pollinated by beetles). Actea racemosa flowers have a distinctive, fetid, and carrying smell… qualifying their appreciation to at-a-distance. It blooms early summer to mid-summer, the buds opening one at a time, giving it a long bloom time. Where woodland restoration of native habitat is the goal, no other actea should be considered appropriate where this has formerly grown.

Our co- editor Tom Gibson has Actea racemose growing in his native plant garden and says that when it is blooming he finds bees pollinating it, and that he does not notice an unpleasant smell… I did however make a point of sniffing it last summer and was awed by how awful it was. This may be a situation where some people are ‘smellers’ and others not. Our native tree Ptelea is another such; to some it smells foul, to others fair.

(See Actea racemosa below)

Actea simplex (synonymous with Actea ramosa or Cimicifuga ramosa – you can see how things got confusing) hails from northern Eurasia and Japan. It is also has strong smelling blooms, but this time of honey, making it a happier companion in the residential garden. It is also valuable for its virtue of blooming late summer into late fall, when it provides nectar and pollen for late foraging European honeybees (out and about anytime the temperature is 55 degrees or warmer) as well as for many of our native bees foraging at lower temperatures. Last year my Actea simplex atropurpurea began blooming the end of October and was just getting into full bloom when the first early snows came, taking it out. The day before it was hosting a bumble bee. This year the first buds popped open this last week. I’m hoping I’ll get to enjoy them.

(See Actea simplex below)

In Catherine’s garden an established bed of Actea simplex atropururea ‘Brunette’ started blooming in September and is now mostly finished, but a more recently planted patch is blooming now, waving their tall fairy candles above a lower growing bed of Aspertina altissima ‘Chocolate’ (formerly Eupatorium rugosum – another group of plants that recently underwent taxonomic correction) (more on this plant another time). This combination of Actea and Aspertina is quite beautiful, and will be more so in a couple more years.

Acteas, both native and non-native, are unattractive to most animal pests – deer, rabbits, groundhogs leave them alone – and most insect pests and diseases also. Once established they are durable and tolerant plants. Adequate moisture is essential, especially in the first three to four years. My happiest Actea simplex grows at the outer fringes of a rain garden, sending up bottle-brush flowers that tread air at well above six feet.

I will miss the name cimicifuga, though – the way it rolled around in the mouth while saying it.

A Visit To Holden Arboretum’s New Canopy Walk and Emergent Tower

October 9, 2015GENERAL INTEREST, PERIPATETICElsa Johnson

by Elsa Johnson

Of course it’s neat!

When I was a kid we had a big sugar maple at the end of our driveway with one low branch so that a child could jump up, grab it, and swing herself up; after that there were regularly spaced branches. One could climb up as high as one dared to go… which in my case was not very high. My brother climbed it to the top, and so did the neighbor boy (and fell and bounced off every branch on the way down, but miraculously did not break a single bone – though he never tried climbing that tree again, either).

The Arboretum Canopy Walk puts you up there at the top of that big sugar maple, so to speak, and it isn’t scary one bit. The ascent is a solid gradual ramp up to a tree-canopy-level walkway laid out in a triangle, with the interconnecting walkways suspended on cables between the non-moving transition-towers (think the Brooklyn Bridge on a much, much, much smaller scale).

It’s lovely and fun (of course the walkways bounce!), although not terribly educational at the moment (there was a notice saying that there will be educational signage coming soon)…but the walkway is beautifully designed, and the design is impeccably executed. One could go and appreciate it for no more reason than that.

On to the Emergent Tower (yes, yes, a wacky name – what else is the purpose of a tower if not to emerge?) – and yes, yes, really worth the trip; I enjoyed every step of it.

Like the canopy walk, the tower is an exquisite piece of well-thought-out functional design and construction detailing. Just one example is that the risers on the steps are slightly low, allowing even a couple ladies with one cranky knee apiece to walk up (and down) it without pain and hardly any sense of exertion. How cool is that! And every step of the trip is a visual pleasure, noticing how the floor grid allows one to look through, either down or up, turning the entire tower into an ever-changing kaleidoscope of beautiful metal and wood joinery.

The tower is 202 feet high, which is above the tree canopy at the top (having emerged). One can see in all directions….north to the lake, east toward Little Mountain, south and west… in every direction a green blanket of rolling hills and trees. Also a tension structure, there is wind movement. It is delicious. Go see.

“After Blueflags” by Elsa Johnson

September 28, 2015POETRYElsa Johnson

by Elsa Johnson

After Blueflags

(Homage to WCW)

We stopped to gather pods

from the milkweed plants

where they grow

in the meadow

amid tall grasses

that wave

as wind blows

and rain falls

and runnels the ground

toward the swale

where we planted blueflags

one spring

in water

with sunflowers beside.

The milkweed pods

are like fat fish

which we pull

from stalks

and carry

in our pockets

and our arms

to the ditch

where our hands grow sticky

with white sap

as we pull apart pods

for the seeds inside

lined up like fish scales

tied to silk threads

which we rend and scatter

so they drift

in wet air

Plants We Like: Milkweed-Schmilkweed – What Do Those Darn Monarchs Want, Anyway? by Elsa Johnson

September 28, 2015POLLINATION, PRACTICEElsa Johnson

Elsa Johnson

We constantly hear how the Monarch butterfly population is at risk because they are dependent on milkweed plants for survival. What does that mean? Is timing important?

The answer to both questions is … not quite so much for the adult Monarch butterfly as for the Monarch caterpillar. The caterpillar, the larval stage of the butterfly, MUST have milkweed. It eats nothing else.

Adult Monarch butterflies drink only liquid, mostly in the form of nectar that they suck up through a tiny tube (called a proboscis) just under the head. They can get nectar from a variety of flowering sources. To attract adult Monarch butterflies, one need only plant a variety of nectar rich flowers, including the various species of milkweed native to one’s area. As the non-breeding Monarch’s – that is, the migrating population of Monarch’s (as opposed to the breeding stay-at-home population) fly southwest on the migration to Mexico, it is important that they find nectar sources along their route. This should be a variety of flowering plants with staged flowering times to give both stay at home and migrating Monarchs a continuous food source. Milkweed of course should be included in the mix.

It is the stay-at-home breeding population that specifically need milkweed plants. Adult butterflies lay their eggs only on milkweed plants because in the caterpillar stage of their life cycle Monarch’s eat only the leaves of milkweed plants. They can denude a milkweed plant of its leaves (but that’s ok; the leaves will regenerate).

Monarch friendly areas should be not be mowed or cut back until butterflies have migrated from the area (a good reason to practice garden sloth on either a small or large scale). For large areas, mowing in patches insures that pollinators always have access to undisturbed habitat and can recolonize mowed areas. Avoid the use of herbicides and pesticides.

There are 13 species of milkweed native to Ohio. The most common to the fields of Northeast Ohio is Common Milkweed (Asclepias syriaca).

You can find large stands of this milkweed in the Great Meadow of Forest Hill Park (feel free to take some pods home!). This species can spread aggressively — though for now we are not convinced that is such a bad thing.

The milkweed species are most often found in area nurseries are Swamp Milkweed

( Asclepias incarnata)

and Aesclepias tuberosa, with its startling orange flowers.

Both respond to garden sloth by self- sowing. Interestingly, caterpillars on A. tuberosa have a greater survival rate then on the other milkweeds.

Links:

Milkweed information sheet: monarchjointventure.org

The Xerces Society : milkweed seed finder database

Floraofohio.blogspot.com

After Blueflags

(Homage to WCW)

We stopped to gather pods

from the milkweed plants

where they grow

in the meadow

amid tall grasses

that wave

as wind blows

and rain falls

and runnels the ground

toward the swale

where we planted blueflags

one spring

in water

with sunflowers beside.

The milkweed pods

are like fat fish

which we pull

from stalks

and carry

in our pockets

and our arms

to the ditch

where our hands grow sticky

with white sap

as we pull apart pods

for the seeds inside

lined up like fish scales

tied to silk threads

which we rend and scatter

so they drift

in wet air

Barbed: Then and Now by Elsa Johnson

September 26, 2015POETRYElsa Johnson

Barbed : Then and Now

(‘ homo homini lupus’: Plautus)

Elsa Johnson

It was Acanthus mollis that found its soft

voluptuous way a-top the severe slim

columns of the temple of Olympian Zeus

that took six hundred years to build and was

finished (at last) only to endure intact a single

century before being reduced to a stockpile of

marble construction blocks Those columns needed

spikes : A. spinosus – each lurid leaf and flower

armored Walking past it several times each day

I think …surely a plant for a feral culture :

barbed – as in barbarian What use sweet reason

when the wolves sweep down ? …howling death

death death (yours – not theirs) …destruction

singing through their veins …their shining eyes

In Connecticut by Elsa Johnson

September 25, 2015POETRYElsa Johnson

In Connecticut

Elsa Johnson

Above the beach at Hammonasset a whirl of

many swallows circled just below where clouds

formed flat-bottomed as though resting on

a surface we could not see : piling up

billowing above into the hued sky Just there

was where the swallows flew their continuous

rotation The water … was New England cold…

we lingered only an hour When we left

the swallows still winged and swirled sustained

by what… …we could not see Early evening

on my son’s front porch we watched two quarrel

some hummingbirds visit the feeder High — high

above — a clearly modeled three dimensional

moon hung waxing in a still bright sky

Call and Response

September 25, 2015POETRYElsa Johnson

Elsa Johnson

I say grace is where you find it …sometimes

in such unexpected places Amazing

that the fleas hoping to camp on Loki’s face

moved him to try to talk like a bird There he sat

high up in a flea-less open second floor window

opposite a wire where a robin perched and chirped

and he chirped back or tried to Such strange

sounds coming from a cat I did not at first hear

attempted conversation only slowly perceived

each single syllable birdcall met by ‘erk!’ from cat

…and then… later — at day’s end — in the garden

when the light changed infusing all with gold

the blue sky deepened and the clouds glowed back

like one of those Renaissance paintings …like grace

A Hike to Holden Arboretum’s Carver’s Pond by Elsa Johnson

September 23, 2015UncategorizedElsa Johnson

A Hike to Holden Arboretum’s Carver’s Pond

Elsa Johnson

When the Cleveland Museum of Natural History holds its annual symposium there are GREAT opportunities to go on hikes that visit some of northeast Ohio’s very special places. The hike to Carver’s Pond is one of these. I’ve been on this hike several times, and it is always rewarding. The pond is a Holden Arboretum holding, but lies outside the arboretum proper and can be visited only with special permission and a guide (ours was led by Holden’s own Roger Gettig).

So the first part of our trip involved first getting to the place where the hike began, near an enclosure where Holden is testing the pest or pathogen resistance of various trees and shrubs. Then one wanders through a large unmown field (full of bee-full goldenrod this time of year) where Holden has planted more trees to observe over time (White Pine, Dawn Redwood). Then you tromp a long way through an oak/beech forest, overlooking a creek that is in some places a hundred feet below…

And then you are there.

What makes Carver’s Pond fascinating is that it lies in a submerged valley that itself lies thirty feet above the creek below. The natural outlet at the west end of the pond has been blocked by a beaver dam, creating a water impoundment of about 5 acres, studded with water lilies and dead trees (in which heron used to nest but no longer do) . There is no one around except some ducks and herons. It is very, very quiet.

The way out is faster but steeper: no sloth possible. My butt muscles are tired. It was a good hike.

Science by the People: Lisa Rainsong, Citizen Scientist

September 16, 2015GENERAL INTERESTElsa Johnson

Science by the People: the 2015 Conservation Symposium at the

Cleveland Museum of Natural History

Elsa Johnson

What kind of person jumps into her car after work to drive to Erie, Pennsylvania to listen to and record the nighttime songs of crickets and katydids ….for fun….!

…whose ‘real’ life work is teaching music and making her own songs…

…and who gets invited to give a talk about her unusual and enchanting hobby at a prestigious institution of the natural sciences…. ?

…Meet Dr. Lisa Rainsong, whose name, vocation, and avocation so serendipitously mix.

Rainsong, who is a resident of Cleveland Heights, a Professor of Music Theory at the Cleveland Institute of Music, and a recorder extraordinaire of the songs of crickets and katydids, gave a power-point lecture — punctuated by cricket song – on the results of her cricket recording activity to this year’s symposium audience.

Rainsong’s familiarity with recording equipment allowed her to take recording of multitudinous mixed summer insect sounds and then separate out the individual songs of specific cricket species – even the hard for the human ear to hear katydid species.

Black-legged MK singing mostly visible nice OHills 8-23-013 — Black-legged Meadow Katydid

By doing this she has been able to verify for professional scientists the existence of certain crickets and katydids where they were thought not to exist. It seems to be a mostly northward migration, possibly due to climate change, but in the case of one cricket, Rainsong hypothesizes that the specific species had been there all along.

Rainsong spoke with clarity, affection, and humor about her extra-curricular passion. For this writer her presentation was the highlight of this year’s symposium.

You may link to Rainsong’s blog Listening in Nature. The Songs of Insects is a wonderful online field guide for identification.