Spring into Summer

Here in northern New Hampshire, spring was late coming and grudging as it spread across the landscape. Rain was a big feature with April and May. It was cloudy most of the time with the sun making occasional appearances teasing us into thinking finally some decent weather, then disappearing behind clouds which pelted us with raw chilly rain. Over the past decade or two, weather was often abnormally warm and dry, enough so it seemed like the new normal. Hard to say if this spring will be the next ‘normal’. We’ll just have to wait and see.

bunch berry flowers

One benefit of the heavy rains is a very lush growth of greenery. There are the usual wildflowers such as bunchberry, forget-me-nots, star-flowers and so forth. But garden flowers come popping up one at a time as well: snow-drops, crocuses, daffodils, iris and lily-of-the-valley.

five foot tall Russian comfrey

Many years ago I bought a small seed packet containing a handful of seed from a variety called Russian Comfrey. I don’t know which cultivar it was but it has since prospered. It has never been necessary to fertilize it as this plant can put down roots as deep as six or more feet and suck up its own nutrients.

It can be used as a cover plant and will (at least for me) grow to Brobdingnagian proportions providing plenty of greenery to add to the compost pile. The ones pictured above are over five feet tall. Bumblebees love the tiny flowers and will squeeze themselves into one to get at the nectar, buzzing cheerfully all the while. Comfrey will reseed itself though it has not really been invasive. Some studies seem to suggest the leaves may contain carcinogenic compounds but if they do, the deer and woodchucks obviously don’t read the literature as they happily chow down on the leaves. One time I watched a woodchuck nip off an enormous leaf bigger than a dinner plate and placidly sit down to eat it all at one sitting.

garden rhubarb

Rhubarb also is doing well this year. The above plant is the last survivor of a small patch managed by my late father who had it tucked in a shady corner of the garden. It never grew that big for him but he would gather the leaf stalks to cook up and eat. I found the smell of cooking rhubarb revolting and would rapidly flee the vicinity of the kitchen. After he passed away, the patch went neglected, dwindling until only one scrawny plant was left. Finally taking pity on it, I moved it to a more sunny part of the old garden. This clearly did the trick and now it is growing more than triple the size it did for my father. This year it produced a flower stalk. The stalk towers over me and had a huge cluster of seeds on it. I have no idea if the seeds are fertile but will plant them to see what happens.

Sweet William flowers, dark pink color

Sometimes when I have left over flower seeds and no room to put them, I will toss what is left on the bank out in front of the house. If they grow, fine; if not also fine. Apparently some of the seed I tossed was Sweet William and I was pleasantly surprised to see some dark pink blossoms peeking through the weeds on the bank the other day.

Swallow-tail butterflies, bumblebees, and even a few honey bees have been making their appearance visiting the different flowers. Mindful of the recent reports of drops in the number of insects, particularly pollinating ones, I avoid the use of insecticides except for naturally derived ones such as neem oil for spot use use on lily beetles. Interestingly enough I have not seen any Japanese beetles for a number of years especially after using a beneficial nematode in the front lawn to chow down on beetle larvae. It must have effective as the beetles disappeared in subsequent years. I don’t use the beetle traps hawked in various gardening catalogs as these are really beetle magnets and will draw in every beetle in the neighborhood. Your neighbors may like this but not you.

Since summer has only just gotten underway, it will be interesting to see what else pops up.

multiple mushrooms growing on a bank

More Turkey?

A week after Thanksgiving, it’s pretty certain everyone is more than satiated with every possible dish one can think of to make use of leftover turkey meat with. Since I didn’t have company visit this year, the leftovers were the result of a pair of turkey thighs, rather than the whole bird, making it easier to polish them off.

A few days after the holiday kickoff, a small flock of wild turkeys came strolling up my driveway and into the small patch of woods in back of the house. Wild turkeys are surprisingly large, leaving prints behind very reminiscent of dinosaur tracks.

Given that the height of the Thanksgiving feast involves a native American bird, one can’t help wondering why it is called a turkey instead of whatever the First Nation peoples called them. It turns out that invading Europeans tended to name anything they came across after something they were already familiar with in their homeland. One good example is corn. The word corn originally applied to wheat or any other cereal grains. Maize by the way is not really a name from any of the First Nations but has its origins in Spanish. Each local ethnic group had their own name for this staple of life.

As for the turkey, this name was actually applied to a different bird, the guinea fowl. Originally from Africa, it was brought to Europe via the Ottoman Empire (which included the present day Turkey) and was referred to as turkey cocks or hens (depending on gender) because of that. Since the bird from North America superficially resembled the guinea fowl, it came to be referred to as a turkey as well. Because it had a better flavor than the guinea fowl, the American ‘turkey’ supplanted it on many tables and eventually became the centerpiece for our current Thanksgiving celebration.

This past year must have been a good one for wild turkeys as their numbers (based on the size of the flocks I have seen) really jumped. The current turkeys are not really native to New Hampshire. The original turkeys we had disappeared from the state 150 years ago because of habitat destruction and overhunting. Reintroduced in the 1970’s using birds from the Mid Atlantic states their population quickly boomed, helped along by an increasingly mild climate as well as a supply of well stocked bird feeders. Now they are a common sight throughout New Hampshire.

I always get a chuckle when I see wild turkeys. There’s just something so goofy looking about them. But while turkeys have a reputation for being stupid, that’s more likely true of the over-bred domestic varieties. The wild turkey is sharp-eyed and canny, necessary traits for surviving in the forest, where they are often on the menu of hungry foxes, coyotes and other critters.

The mothers carefully shepherd their offspring about. In early summer the chicks resemble fuzzy little footballs. By midsummer they have grown and feathered out enough so they can briefly get air-born for about five seconds or so when they flap their wings. Because factory farm turkeys are so heavily bred for size, many can barely walk much less fly, so it can be surprising to discover that wild turkeys can not only fly but do so very well.

By summers end, they are nearly full grown and can often be seen along with their mothers teaming up with other turkey hens, forming sizable flocks. The males seem to congregate in their own flocks as I have often seen groups of turkeys consisting almost entirely of males.

There’s an old belief that Benjamin Franklin wanted the wild turkey rather than the bald eagle to be the national bird. This is actually a culture myth. It seems Mr. Franklin didn’t feel the eagle was the best representative of American character. In fact he thought the eagle was a bit of a coward and believed the turkey was more courageous than the bald eagle. But there is no indication he wanted the turkey to be the national bird.

In any case, the turkey today is a welcome addition to the local wildlife and I hope will continue to stroll by my house from time to time to give me a good chuckle.

How the year flies by

It’s hard to believe but we are on the doorstep to November with the time change (fall back) just a weekend away. It seems the older I get, the faster time seems to slip past. At the beginning of this last winter, we got hit with a cold spell in January that rivaled the ones I remember from a kid. Twenty below zero (Fahrenheit) at night and barely reaching zero during the day. Cold enough to make the car battery seize up and the fuel line to the furnace ice over requiring the services of a plumbing firm to thaw things out.

Wind storms came and went, finally taking out a dead pine near Big Rock.

Thankfully spring arrived, a bit drier than usual but pretty much on time.

Memorial Day came and went, the weather cooperating enough to allow the usual Memorial Day parade starting at the local firehouse just down the road from where I live and continuing up downtown Main Street.

The holiday is a signal for serious gardening to commence so I made my usual planting in my raised beds of a few vegetables with what I hoped was suitable protection against the usual offenders (deer and woodchucks).

Alas, the local woodchuck (a female) produced a hungry litter that proved small enough to squeeze through the fencing to feast on the growing wax beans. I belatedly reinforced the fencing and was able to coax the surviving plants to produce a few beans for the dinner table.

Summer proved meltingly hot this year with humidity levels appropriate more for the tropics than Northern New England. Rain came in fierce torrents at widely scattered intervals, making it hard to keep the raised beds moist. In spite of the unstable weather conditions, I was pleased to see more bees than I had seen last year. Also a pair of wood thrushes collected nesting material from the back yard and took up residence in the woods, the male’s sweet gurgling song floating through the trees, something I hadn’t heard in quite some time.

Finally something else I haven’t seen in well over a decade, monarch butterflies came migrating through in late August. It’s easy to read encouraging omens in this, that somehow Mother Nature is still managing to hang on in spite of all the damage careless humans seem determined to cause. But we are not out of the woods by any means and need to continue our efforts to support Her. I am down by one composter but have adjusted by snipping weeds rather than yanking them up, adding to the mulch in the gardens. Weather permitting, leaves will be raked up and after filling up the remaining composter will be scattered beneath the trees, allowing nutrients to return to the soil to support the next generation of bees, wood thrushes, monarch butterflies and, yes, baby woodchucks and hungry deer.

Winter Cold

Well it’s definitely been a traditional New England Winter with heavy snow and frigid temperatures. After several snow falls over a several week period of 8 inches of snow per storm an arctic blast came in immediately after Christmas plunging night temperatures down to 20 plus degrees below zero Fahrenheit followed by day temperatures making it up to a sullen 10 or so below zero with a brief spike up to zero.

It’s been a while since we have experienced such brutal temperatures here in Northern New England. Twenty below zero cold snaps were a frequent occurrence when I was a kid, usually about two or three times during the course of the winter, particularly in January and February. It was one of those things you just had to put up with. There’s the old joke about the Vermont farmer who lived right at the state border with New Hampshire. When told that surveyors had found his house was actually located on the New Hampshire side of the border, he exclaimed with relief:
“Thank God for that! I don’t think I could have survived another damned Vermont winter.”

The relentless rise of global temperatures has caused a moderation over the past twenty plus years here that makes the twenty below temperatures seem freakish now. It’s not unusual to hear the phrase “record lows” being tossed about over temperatures that once would have evoked an annoyed shrug. Now of course the newest name for what we always called a nor’easter is a bomb cyclone. Apparently nor’easter is too old fashioned now. Bomb cyclone better fits the histrionic climate reports breathlessly read to us by overwrought weathermen & women. But it’s really just the same old storm system, just glitzed up for a new audience.

But after years of living through the weather here in New Hampshire, the changes are unmistakable. Weather on the average is warmer than it has ever been. Storms either come rampaging one after the other or take a leave of absence for weeks at a time. Temperatures gyrate wildly from one extreme to the other. Today the temperature high was 39 above zero (Fahrenheit), compared with single digit below day time temperatures from just over a week ago. These wild oscillations indicate a system that has become destabilized and is trying to find a new equilibrium. Since we are still injecting quantities of carbon dioxide and methane (octane fuel for weather systems) into the atmosphere, there’s no way to know what the new normal will eventually become. There’s always the possibility this is the new normal. We will all have to make the adjustment somehow.

Still, if the surveyors come and tell me that due to an error in measurement, I am actually living in Vermont, I will sigh with relief because it means that I won’t have to go through another one of those damned New Hampshire winters.

Between Fall and Winter

There’s a short span of time starting in early November until the first serious snow flies that isn’t quite fall anymore but isn’t really winter yet either. Technically it’s late autumn but to me autumn is when leaves change color and start floating to the ground creating a bright carpet on the forest floor.

Deciduous foliage has pretty much dropped to the ground by November except for a few that hang tough like the beech trees which cling to their leaves for most of the winter. Now the first tentative snowflakes begin falling but they don’t last long as the weather will often warm back up and melt them. Dry winds can also evaporate the thin layers of snows in a process called sublimation. Any fallen leaves quickly lose their color and become dull brown or even grey. The brilliance that made the autumn season so distinctive is gone.

Now it’s just a matter of waiting until the next snowfall comes that stays for the season (or until the next freak warm spell). Until then, everything seems to be in a sort of limbo, not quite winter, not quite autumn. The seed heads of various flowers such as goldenrod and asters sit quiet and grey, waiting. Many people are tempted to cut them down as eye sores but it’s better to leave them as birds will feed on the seeds as well as any insect larva hibernating in the plant stems. I find the seed heads have their own stark beauty, sometimes more striking than the flower they were formed from.

A wild grape vine established itself several years ago on the bank in front of the house. This past year it finally bore grapes. Unlike the extravagantly large seedless domestic fruit in the grocery store, wild grapes are compact, not much bigger than commercial blueberries. They are edible but the flavor is tart and large seeds take up about two thirds of the fruit. While there are multiple recipes for making wild grape jelly online, there weren’t enough grapes to make it worth picking so I left them for any hungry birds that happen along. Maybe next year when the vines have gotten bigger.

With the leaves gone, it’s now possible to look further into the woods and spot stuff you hadn’t noticed before. When out walking a few weekends ago I caught sight of a good sized white pine that had obviously been growing a while but was previously veiled by summer leaves. Now visible, I snapped this picture of it and dubbed it “Ent standing on head”.

But the thing that marks out this time of year is the avalanche of seed catalogs which start coming a week before Thanksgiving.

Most of them, I will never order from as I have just a few favorites that I regularly buy from; Territorial Seeds and Pinetree Catalog. In addition, the local Food Coop carries High Mowing Organic Seeds. Other stores will carry more conventional brands such as Burpee. The nice thing about the catalogs is that they bring a bright splash of color during this quiet time, making it slightly easier to ignore the lunacy that is the Christmas shopping season currently underway and daydream about my next garden instead.

Have a peaceful Holiday season.