Labor day is almost upon us. Although summer still officially lasts for about three more weeks, Labor Day makes it seem like it’s the end of the season and the start of fall.
It’s been an abnormally dry season though some relief in the form of rain has begun arriving in the past few weeks to help the sweet corn along for the farmer’s market. There was a population boom of bumblebees in contrast to the scarcity of the insect last summer. Fire flies made a tentative reappearance though June bugs still seem to be in short supply.
It was a good summer for babies. A pair of Canada geese has been raising a brood in the tiny nature preserve near where I live. My sister-in-law took this adorable photo of a baby merganser goose-stepping across the road following his mother.
I’ve seen fledgling robins and heard young chickadees, nuthatches and chipping sparrows pursuing their parents begging for a last few morsels of food before they will have to fend for themselves.
Although the weather was on the dry side, a number of plants did well for themselves. The Black eyed Susans in my garden have bloomed prolifically.
The recent rains brought out a small mushroom nestled among the roots of a white pine.
My Jack-In-The-Pulpit bloomed its characteristic ‘jack’ and is now forming a berry cluster which will turn bright red.
While on a morning walk in late July, I encountered a Monarch butterfly feeding in a patch of milkweed on the corner of a parking lot.
It was a thrill to see this badly endangered butterfly still hanging in there. Now the milkweed has produced pods and if they can escape getting weed-wacked, I hope to collect a few when they ripen and try getting them to grow on the bank in back of my home.
One of the first flowers to appear around my home are snowdrops beating out the crocuses by nearly a month. These rugged little plants begin poking up near the foundation of my home as soon as the snow melts back.
And sometimes even before.
The three-petaled blossoms with an inner bell are small but white with a little green chevron on the bell.
These durable flowers grow from bulbs which can be purchased online. I’ve seen them survive a surprising amount of abuse from cold weather. If they get snowed on, they just wait patiently until the snow melts off and they rise back up as if nothing had happened.
If you plant a group of bulbs, they will begin spreading. If you get too many, they can be transplanted by just digging them up once the blossom has gone by and before the leaves die back. They don’t seem to object to this. A number of years ago one of my siblings was raking vigorously where I had just planted some new bulbs. He inadvertently raked up the bulbs (they are very small) not noticing them and dumped the bulbs leaves and all into the woods. The bulbs were not fazed even slightly by this but took root and are now blooming just underneath the pine trees.
Snowdrops are always a welcome sight in late March or early April, giving that little promise to us that while spring seems slow in coming, it is here.
The first full month of Fall has come and is nearly gone with Halloween just around the corner. Blink and you’ll miss it. Why time insists on whizzing by so fast these days is uncertain but may involve the fact that the older you get, the more time seems to speed up. Science data suggests that as we age, our ability to process images and experiences decreases even though time is actually moving at the same pace it always does. That may very well be, but one reason I almost never watch television anymore is the increasingly frantic pace of cutting from one scene to the next as well as the endless barrage of truncated ‘sound bites’ which convey little information that’s of any use. I’m not the only one who’s noticed this and like others I find it obnoxious.
Maybe that’s because I’m getting to be an old fuddy-duddy now or maybe my tolerance for baloney has permanently tanked. In any case, I’ve changed to walking more, paying more attention to reality and taking my entertainment in bite size chunks of my own choosing, rather than having it spoon fed to me by faceless corporations out to make a profit at my expense.
On the morning of October 10, about 11:30 AM, many people in southern New Hampshire, as well as parts of Maine and Massachusetts reported hearing a loud boom. Curiously neither of my brothers who both live in the southern part of the state heard anything out of the ordinary or if they did, attributed it to nearby noisemakers and thought nothing more of it. Scientists say there was no earthquake and the FAA says there was no military plane activity in the area. Most likely explanation is a bolide coming in from space exploding in the upper atmosphere. So unless the Air Force fesses up and admits one of their boys was hotdogging, the meteor explanation will have to suffice.
The Covid panic proceeds apace with no signs of letting up. There’s been a minor surge in the past few weeks here in New Hampshire, no doubt largely due to the influx of germ laden tourists during fall foliage season. It will no doubt subside in the coming weeks and resurface with the holiday seasons of Thanksgiving and Christmas. Let’s face it, folks. Covid is here to stay and become another one of the ailments we have to chronically deal with, like influenza or norovirus.
The tree foliage here in Northern New Hampshire has peaked and leaves are now being shed with increasing speed, piling up at the side of the road, on top of lawns or spinning around madly in the backwash left by speeding cars. Colors were good but are quickly fading away from bright yellows and reds to less flamboyant yellow ochers and bronze shades. I’m trying to stay on top of the raking by going out in good weather (with hopefully no wind) and using an actual rake that I hold in my hands and scratch the ground with. Yes, people still use those things! Much quieter than a leaf blower plus you get a good aerobics workout.
Birds have begun migrating through, with the bulk of them being robins, sparrows and juncos. I’ve heard both flickers and pileated woodpeckers in the woods with their loud characteristic calls. Crows and blue jays are flying back and forth, probably checking out their digs for the winter and calling out anybody who tried to invade their territory. Squirrels and chipmunks are packing away the bonanza of acorns to help them tide over winter and mice are trying weasel their way into the woodwork of the house looking for a warm place to shack up in for the winter.
Chipmunks are especially amusing to watch as they cram seeds and acorns into pockets they have in their cheeks until they look like they have a dreadful case of the mumps. Very industrious, they don’t hibernate but do stock food away for the winter so they have something to feed on while the weather is foul and they have to lay low. These energetic little ground squirrels are surprisingly territorial, calling out their ownership with loud piercing bird-like chirps and pounding on any chippie who crosses the line, trying to invade. People get fooled by their cute appearance, thinking they’re sweet little animals. Don’t you believe it! These guys are little scrappers and are not above trying to bite off their opponent’s tail to assert dominance. It’s a rough and tumble world if you’re a chipmunk.
On a somber note, I recently witnessed the funeral procession of a local fireman who passed away suddenly. A twenty four year veteran, he had just retired, but sadly never got a chance to enjoy it. I watched the procession begin just after the services at the local Catholic church. Dozens of firemen from around the north country attended, in full dress uniforms with white gloves, standing at attention and saluting the flag draped coffin as it emerged from the church. The coffin was then loaded into the back of a fire engine for one last ride down Main Street past the local fire station where a huge American flag had been hung over the road.
Though I didn’t know the fireman personally, it was still a moving ceremony to watch, a recognition of his years of service and the respect he was held in.
Lastly is the weather. While we are experiencing fall like conditions now, it wasn’t until this past week that the first light frost hit some of the plants in my garden. This is extremely unusual as the first light frosts usually occur in mid to late September and a hard freeze usually by mid-October. While I’m not sure if this is a record for this area, the local weather reporter for WMUR did state this is the latest frosts have made their appearance in many years. While some may dispute global warming, I have seen too much evidence of it in recent years to doubt its existence.
Well, that’s all for this month. Have a peaceful Autumn, everybody.
With the first day of fall officially come and gone, it is now time for autumn leaves, falling acorns, migrating geese and surprisingly enough caterpillars. More than a few species are searching around for places to hole up and pupate over the winter until the arrival of spring when they can emerge as butterflies or moths beginning the cycle of reproduction all over again.
A few years ago, I was sweeping off the driveway when I spotted what at first appeared to be a walking green cigar. This proved to be a Polyphemus caterpillar nearly three inches long. He was moving along at a pretty good clip but fortunately I was able to grab a ruler and snap a decent picture of him. The Polyphemus moth (which he will eventually metamorphose into) is a large nocturnal moth with large eye spots on both wings. Named after the legendary cyclops, these moths are rarely seen but I was fortunate enough to discover one of their offspring.
These caterpillars are harmless, except to tree leaves, relying on their green coloration to hide them from predators looking for fat juicy bugs to nom. Others, like the monarch caterpillar, rely on a foul taste to deter predators, sporting bright colors to warn off anyone looking for a meal. Yucky but harmless.
But there are other caterpillars which are not quite so harmless. Many, like the gypsy moth caterpillar, are covered with irritating hairs which can produce rashes on susceptible people. Tussock caterpillars, like the one pictured below, also have irritating hairs which can cause problems for the sensitive, though they are not really that poisonous.
While these insects may be interesting to look at, it is best to just look and not touch.
But the one you absolutely, positively should not touch under any circumstances is the flannel moth caterpillar. Like the one below they look strangely like a toupee someone has lost. But don’t be fooled.
These silly looking creatures sport highly poisonous stinging hairs which contain venom producing an unpleasant result if you are unfortunate enough to get stuck by one. Many people report it feels worse than a bee or wasp sting causing intense pain for the unlucky victim. Some are sensitive enough so they have wound up in the emergency room. I have not come across any references to fatal allergic reactions but the potential is always there. Look but don’t touch!
For those who are wondering what the coming winter may bring, some may take a look at the wooly bear caterpillar.
While this fellow sports stiff body hairs, the wooly bear is not toxic in any way. If you disturb them, they will curl up into an innocuous looking ball and lie still until it thinks the coast is clear. For some reason people have seized upon these little critters as a way to forecast the weather. If the brown band is wide, it foretells a mild winter. If it is narrow, then a rough winter is on the way. At the risk of bursting people’s bubbles, studies have not borne this out. In fact, I have seen wooly bears in the same year with differing widths in their brown bands. So unless you want to make out that one of them is a fibber, the caterpillars are a better sign that winter is just simply on the way than as to what kind of winter it will be.
So what is a good sign a cold winter may be on the way? Why, union suits pulled from storage and stuck out on the line to air out in preparations for blustery conditions of course! What else? Just a different kind of wooly.
Summer has been winding down the past few weeks much too fast for my liking with Labor Day less than two weeks away. Officially the first day of fall doesn’t arrive until September 22. The fall equinox is when day and night are of equal lengths, a mirror image of the spring equinox. Nature itself slowly segues from summer into fall rather than making an abrupt transition, giving us a chance to make our preparations for the season change.
It’s a bit too soon for the big leaf color change which leaf peeping tourists are so fond of as that really doesn’t get underway up here in Northern New Hampshire until the end of September and into early October. A few trees here and there are already making the transition but these are plants which are somewhat stressed and sickly, not surprising since we did have drought conditions early in the summer which makes life difficult for even the healthiest plants.
A better sign of late summer is the appearance of goldenrod and wild aster flowers, eagerly visited by bee, wasps and the occasional butterfly. Monarch butterflies begin their annual migration in August, travelling 50 to 100 miles a day, depending on weather conditions. These fall butterflies do not reproduce but head to wintering grounds where they hunker down, not moving northward until about March, breeding and surging back until the cycle is complete and a new migration begins
I have seen a handful of Monarchs these past few weeks which makes me hopeful the species can hold on but their wintering grounds are under seige from humans and climate change so unless the butterflies can adapt to these changes, the amazing migrations they make will likely become a thing of the past, like the migrations of passenger pigeons.
The flowers did well, once the rains finally came. Onion chives, marigolds, catchfly and cosmos all put on a good show attracting many insects. Bumblebees, small butterflies, solitary bees all visited the blossoms as they opened up. An unusual visitor also showed up, one I don’t see very often.
The sphinx moth often confuses people not familiar with wildlife. It beats its wings so fast, it sometimes gets confused with hummingbirds and in fact is sometimes called the hummingbird moth. This one paid numerous visits to the pink catch-fly flowers which seed themselves profusely in my vegetable garden and seem to ignore my efforts to try reseeding them in the flower garden where they belong.
The vegetable garden is winding down as well, with the wax beans petering out and the cucumber vines beginning to wither. Carrots and potatoes look good though I will not dig those up until the fall. In the case of the potatoes, I passed on the pricy seed potatoes being offered in the catalogs I receive. Instead, I took a few organic Yukon Gold spuds purchased at the local food coop, sliced them up and planted them. These sprouted quite well and grew quickly, producing flowers and remaining potato bug free. Interestingly, some of the blossoms went on to produce small fruit resembling green tomatos, not surprising since they are both members of the nightshade family. Potato berries (as they are called) are not edible, being full of solanine, giving them a bitter taste and inducing great intestinal distress for anyone silly enough to try and eat them. It is possible to get seeds from them, but as the potatoes are hybrids, they will not breed true. Still it might be an interesting experiment to try on some occasion, just to see what you get.
When venturing into deep woods, you may come across something like the picture below.
This is referred to as a nurse log. It is the result of a large tree dying, then falling to the ground. As it decays, seedlings take root on it and grow using the rotting trunk to fuel their own growth. It’s a form of recycling and is one of the reasons to leave dead wood where it falls, so that nutrients will remain for the next generation of trees. Some might complain that fallen trees create a fire hazard but fire is part of the natural cycle of growth. As with the process of decay, fire will help release nutrients faster, helping pave the way for new growth.
Seedlings are quick to exploit any new opening for themselves. Sometimes though, they do jump the gun a bit. On a morning walk, I noticed two tiny trees sprouting in the crotch of a still living tree. It’s not likely they’ll make it as the tree looks healthy and not likely to perish anytime soon.
Still, hope springs eternal. Hope your summer has been a good one.
