National Weed Pulling Week

Truth be told, it's not really National Weed Pulling Week. Sorry to get your hopes up. But with the recent rains, this is a primo time to be out there doing what needs to be done in the eternal struggle to steer nature's growth energy in a desired direction.

There's no better way to start learning to discriminate one plant from another than to plant seeds in a vegetable garden and then try to figure out what's what amongst all the eager prospects that soon appear. Hopefully enough of the intended plants come up to form a line. That's the best clue, and all one really needs to start weeding, but below is some more information for navigating the world of weeds.

Most everyone's seen the leaves on a mature carrot, but what do they look like when the plant is 1 inch tall? In this photo, the carrots have highly dissected leaves, like the one over towards the left. Smartweed--so called because it tends to grow in schoolyards, like the raised bed where this photo was taken--has the larger oval leaves. Grass has long, pointed leaves. And down at the lower left, partly obscured by a long dead blade of grass, is lambs quarters, which can grow to six feet if adequately neglected.

Here, the biggest plant (maybe 2 inches high), is one of the many kinds of smartweed. Carrot is hidden just below it, with lambs quarters just below that. A grass blade is at the lower right. Everything can be pulled except the carrots, though the lambs quarters is edible and its young leaves taste about as good as anything we grow intentionally. If you wait too long before weeding, all the root systems intertwine and the intended plants come out with the weeds. Having waited too long, you can press down on the soil on either side of the intended plant with your fingers while pulling the nearby weed out with your other hand.

In this photo, which I found from a past post by typing "garlic" into the search box at the top of this website, the big leaf is garlic mustard, surrounded by wood sorrrel leaves with three leaflets each. Garlic mustard is edible, particularly when the leaves are young, and wood sorrel has the tangy taste of oxalic acid. At the upper right is what looks like a small plantain leaf. All of these can be competing with your intended seedlings.

When pulling weeds, be sure to grasp them at the base and pull slowly, the better to get as many roots as possible.

Canada thistle spreads underground. It pulls up easily when the ground is soft, but will keep sending up new shoots. The strategy here is to be persistent (we're speaking hypothetically), wear gloves, and pull the shoots before they have time to feed energy down to the (seemingly vast) root system. Laying cardboard down, then covering with mulch, is a good way to prevent any sprouts from coming up, but usually the thistle is mixed in with desired plants that one doesn't want to bury beneath mulch.

This is what Hairy Bittercress, the seed-flinging weed mentioned in a previous post, looks like if it goes unweeded. Too late now. It's seeds are flung and ready for next spring.

Stiltgrass (mentioned in a previous post or two) is an annual that has invaded many yards. It can be made scarce in flower beds by pulling it before it goes to seed in late August.

It's a bit of a problem out in the woods, though. Here's a stiltgrass meadow with millions or billions of individual plants. Barring a National Weed Pulling Century, it's wise to pick one's spots.

Kentucky Coffee Trees Always Show Up Late For the Party

The Kentucky Coffee Trees across the street are taking their customary time leafing out, despite the warm spring. Given that each leaf is 3 feet long, waiting until the coast is clear to make such a big commitment in manufacturing is understandable. From past posts about the tree, it looks like the warm spring this year may have hastened the opening of its buds, but not by much.

The relative rareness of the tree in the wild suggests this very conservative strategy of remaining bare five or six months of the year has not proved very successful, but it probably helps these trees survive freak storms like the snow storm that hit Princeton in late October last year.

Internet sources mention it as highly compatible for planting next to passive solar homes, since it only obstructs the sun during the warmest months, and also as a tree associated with historic settlements. Wikipedia mentions a few of these trees in the gardens at Mount Vernon. The grove across the street from me grow on the original farmstead of Joseph Stockton, where Thomas Jefferson is said to have stayed on occasion.

To the left and lower right in the photo are Norway Maples fully leafed out.

FOPOS Speaker Focuses On Deer

 The Friends of Princeton Open Space (FOPOS) had its annual meeting this past Sunday. Wendy Mager, now in her 20th year as the highly effective president of the organization, reviewed the past year's events, which included preservation of large wooded tracts along the Princeton Ridge, with more in the works. AeLin Compton, the new natural resource manager for FOPOS, was introduced to the membership.

The guest speaker was Emil DeVito of the NJ Conservation Foundation, who with voice resounding through Mountain Lakes House made some powerful points about the steep decline in habitat quality in NJ in recent decades. Everything from losses in plant diversity, lack of tree regeneration, soil erosion, the dominance of exotic stiltgrass, and the loss of organic matter in the soil is linked directly or indirectly to the dramatic rise in deer numbers.

He speculates that this imbalance, and the severe browsing pressure on native vegetation that it creates, is without precedent in history. If deer numbers had been so high in the past, native wildflowers like the swamp pink would never have evolved growth strategies that now make them extremely vulnerable to decimation by intense browsing.

Earthworms, too, though beneficial in a vegetable garden, turn out to be destructive in natural areas. He described the imported European earthworms as being slow-moving. Asian species have a higher metabolism.

How would deer and invading earthworms impact forest soil health and even contribute to climate change? If there are too many deer, they eat all the native shrubs that were deepening the shade on the forest floor. Sunlight warms the less-shaded soil as much as 10 degrees above normal, stimulating increased worm activity. The worms consume last year's leaf litter faster, reducing soil organic matter that would otherwise have absorbed rainfall, sequestered carbon and provided habitat for soil organisms.

Part of Emile's power as a speaker comes from his talent for intermingling comedy with tragedy. His stories about neighbors' reactions to his anti-lawn landscaping had the audience convulsing in laughter. 

Refreshments followed the talk, and then Emile led a walk in Mountain Lakes North. Of particular interest was observing what happens when a mature tree falls, creating an opening in the canopy. In a healthy forest, there would be young trees ready to grow into the gap. If deer have eaten all the young trees, however, the gap will remain open, feeding the growth of exotic stiltgrass on the forest floor.

Princeton's open space is better off than many woodlands elsewhere in NJ. Annual deer culling since 2000 by the township has helped reduce browsing pressure enough to allow a resurgence of native shrubs like spicebush. But until deer numbers are reduced to at most 20 per square mile (5-10 is better), the forests will not be able to heal.

Jazz Tomorrow at Labyrinth Bookstore

We temporarily interrupt the nature narrative to mention that tomorrow, Thursday, from 6-8pm, the Labyrinth Bookstore on Nassau St in Princeton will be providing habitat for my group, the Sustainable Jazz Ensemble, as  part of the 3rd "Art Walk". I write all the music, with names like Scrambled Eggs, Fresh Paint, Crying It Out and Forgotten Memories. A new tune may enter the repertoire Thursday, called Fed Up, which is how I feel sometimes when abuse of the planet is allowed to continue unchecked. Labyrinth will provide tea and coffee, or you can bring your own. Art Walk is a bit of a stealth event, but you can find some info at the Labyrinth Bookstore website, and particularly at the Princeton University Art Museum website.

Another great opportunity to hear the music and socialize is a potluck/performance on Saturday, May 19, at a private music room across Route 1 a short ways. That one starts at 7, with a couple sets starting at 8pm. Send me an email for details (click on "View my complete profile", over on the right on this blog, for my email address.)

Suburban Food Chains

A coopers hawk came over to the neighbor's for lunch the other day, unexpected. My neighbor got to teach his young boys about the different kinds of bird feathers--stiff for wing, soft for body--and their functions, and also about food chains. That way, the sacrificial mockingbird fed some imaginations, as well as the hawk.

Extending down the food chain from the mockingbird would be lots of insects during breeding season, and berries later in the year. The insects in turn tend to be finicky about their preference for native plant species. For info on native plants that are particularly supportive of foodchains involving insects, bringingnaturehome.net is an excellent source.

The Dandelion's Roar

I had strategically allowed dandelions to grow in my front yard all spring, seeking to reassure the community that my lawn is completely free of harmful chemicals. The yellow flowers dotted the lawn pleasantly enough, and there were other things to do.

The tide turned, however, as it always does. The yellow turned to raggedly balls of white seeds on gangly stalks, proclaiming in a gathering roar, "Neglect!".

Hearing the racket, I opened the door to find, much to my annual surprise, hundreds, thousands, or at least more dandelions than I could shake a dull weeding knife at.

If there were just a few, I might be praising dandelions for their casual beauty, their edibility, or the pleasure of blowing their seeds off the stalk. But instead there are many, so many that when they suddenly go from "nice place you got here" ornamental yellow to "hope you don't mind if we take over" gangly white, the lawn appears stricken with a bad hair day.

Other kinds of plants, like lawn grass or periwinkle, which may be present in far greater numbers, don't trigger the same negative response because their multitudes merge into a single neatly composed entity. Being perceived as a single entity can, in the case of periwinkle, allow it to multiply without changing its overall appearance. It also avoids shocking overnight transformations, maintaining a consistent, unobtrusive look while it quietly takes over the yard unnoticed.

Dandelions, on the other hand, are determined nonconformists, refusing to come together as a group in a unified texture, no matter how many are massed together. They sing not in a calming unison but in a cacophany of flowers, seedheads and spent stalks all at the same time.

Wishing for a "quieter" front walk, where soon to arrive guests could approach the house without generating a cloud of seeds in their wake, I went with the stock response, by severing the taproot with the weeding knife, plucking the botanical rioteer from its stronghold, and thereby instantly re-establishing an appearance of calm.

After a bit of hand to root combat, all that was needed was to bring in my upside down helicopter on wheels to groom the yard and quiet the chaos a bit further.




By chance, one of the dinner guests brought a platter bearing an attractive painting of a dandelion. Within a day or two, the yard had once again become a sea of dandelion seedstalks.

Afterthoughts: If dandelions were spreading to natural areas and displacing native species, I might get serious about clearing them from the yard, but their edibility for wildlife makes any invasion of woods and fields unlikely.  They could also be a useful, non-mechanical means of aerating a lawn. When the urge to weed them out strikes, cut them off just below the rosette of leaves, so that the decomposing taproots will serve as channels for rain to percolate into the soil.

FOPOS Annual Meeting, Sunday, April 29, 3pm

The Friends of Princeton Open Space have a dynamic speaker for their annual meeting this Sunday, April 29 at 3pm. Emile DeVito of the NJ Conservation Foundation is passionate about restoring New Jersey's natural areas. For more info, go to www.fopos.org. RSVPs are requested.

Creeping Phlox

This is one way to ornament a dividing line between two upscale driveways. This creeping phlox (Phlox subulata) must have taken a few years of tlc to fill out. Though it doesn't look native, this and many other Phlox species show up as native on the USDA plant website.

Back when I was working to save remnant diabase prairies in the North Carolina piedmont, the highest quality sites (with plants adapted to poor soil and periodic fire) had a low-growing phlox (Phlox pilosa), reminiscent of the buffed up creeping phlox found in gardens.

Looking for Lindens on Linden Lane

Sometimes, when walking the tree streets of Princeton, you may actually encounter the kind of tree for which the street was named. I have my doubts about Walnut St, and Chestnut Street's a real long shot, but Linden Lane is lined with lindens, at least the section north of Hamilton Ave. Their flower structures, come to think of it, look a little like skateboards.

Hawthorn St. hosts a tupelo or two, also called black gum, so named for something other than its brilliant red in the fall.

Hawthorn also hosts a red buckeye,

well-placed because they don't get very large and so won't start tangling with the power lines. Red buckeyes are native, but the only place I've ever seen them in the wild is along a road in the coastal plain of North Carolina.

A larger tree, like a maple, may make for an awkward fit under a power line. Hawthorns don't get very large, and could be a good street tree for underneath power lines, if not for their thorns.

Some larger trees manage to gracefully grow past the wires without  triggering catastrophic pruning. The pavement is shaded, the tree's transpiration cools the neighborhood in the summer, and the leaves and trunk catch some of the rain that might otherwise rush into the stormdrains.

But more often, there's a confrontation between trees and power lines. Here's a volunteer Norway Maple that volunteered to tangle with the power lines. I saw the confrontation coming a few years ago, offered to help remove the weedy sapling before the battle began, to no avail. Gardening cultivates the power to see into the future, but not always the power to do anything about it.

One good strategy is to plant trees that grow large and spread out on the side of the street with no wires. That way, most of the pavement will eventually be shaded even if smaller species are planted under the wires on the other side.

Next week: Looking for Franklinias on Franklin Avenue.

For a garden to endure

For a garden to endure, it must grow in someone's heart. Otherwise, no one will think to pay a visit when it looks like this, all disheveled and needy. If I loved this one more, I would have neatened it up earlier in the spring, when this particular agenda item started popping up in my mind, competing with all the others, like an internalized google calendar notification system that I am helpless to disconnect. All gardens depend on that persistent voice, that reminder buoyant enough to keep bubbling up in the mind of someone somewhere, no matter how many times it gets sent back down.

If love fails, or whatever combination of affection, pride, sense of responsibility and nurturing instinct come together to give a thought persistence in the mind, the creeping Charlie would creep unchecked,

the faux Indian strawberries would spread by leaps and bounds.

and the new growth of Joe-Pye-Weed, sedges and switchgrass would grow entangled in the mess of last year's remains.

Some construction workers, sensing neglect, might be even more likely to mistake the garden for a waste area and dump their unused concrete. (On the up side, concrete makes a long-lasting mulch to suppress weeds!)

A downspout that feeds the raingarden might be jarred loose and spill the water instead at the building's foundation.

 But this raingarden's creator, Curtis Helm, must have known my mind has the requisite machinery to eventually prompt action despite formidable powers of procrastination, and so he left the garden in my hands after moving to Philadelphia. Sure enough, I finally pulled up several weeks ago with my version of the landscaper's customary oversized pickup truck and trailer packed with machines.

Last year's spent growth got sheared, the weeds pulled, the downspouts checked, the concrete prodded to no avail, and a stray plastic shopping bag delivered by the wind became a handy container for trash. A half hour of intense labor, and the raingarden was ready for another year of service to Harry's Brook, summer pollinators and passersby.

Dig For Victory

A postcard from England, maybe 70 years ago, when growing a vegetable garden was seen as a way to help your country. May it be seen that way again.

The Leo King

Earthday in our neighborhood: Leo, having vanquished the evil Scar, climbs atop Pride Rock to survey his kingdom, as the rains returned that night to heal the land.

Whither Romance? Wisteria Meets Horse Chestnut

 It was just one of those things.
Just one of those crazy flings.

A trip to the moon on gossamer wings.
Just one of those things.

If they'd thought a bit about the end of it,
When they let the wisteria start climbin' round,
They'd have been aware that this love affair
Was too hot not

to fall down. (Stay tuned.)

--Lyrics mostly by Cole Porter

Walks Across Princeton A Big Success

On a glorious day last Saturday, perfectly timed with the emergence of dogwood flowers,

hikers converged on Mountain Lakes House

to partake of good company and food,

as the sounds of clarinet and harp (that's Janet Vertesi on harp, yours truly on licorice stick)

floated out across the water of Mountain Lake.

Sophie Glovier, who conceived the idea of having guided hikes of different lengths all converge at Mountain Lakes at 2pm for a social interlude, thanked everyone for coming. Sophie, the author of a popular guide to Princeton's nature trails, is on the board of Friends of Princeton Open Space, which hosted the event. With 150 people participating, it looks like the beginning of a Princeton tradition.

Thanks to Ivy de Leon for the photos.

Mapleton Preserve Hosts Annual Arbor Day Celebration Saturday, April 21

The preserved Princeton Nursery lands in Kingston continue their steady transformation. Saturday's celebration, 2-4pm, will include a dedication of 6 new interpretive signs, and a guided walk. The signs, which feature the historic and cultural significance of the former Princeton Nurseries buildings and site, were conceived and researched by Friends of Princeton Nursery Lands. There will be an annual tree planting, and free tree seedlings for attendees.

Further information: www.fpnl.org or 609-683-0483

Barberry Slaps Bee

A little "man bites dog" journalism here. The barberries are in bloom, which means a bit of fun can be had triggering the slapping reflex in the stamens. Take a blade of grass or something else very narrow and slip it in between the stigma at the middle of the flower and one of the five stamens. If you tickle the bottom of the stamen (at the base of the filament), the stamen will "slap" your blade of grass.

The logic is that a pollinator visiting the flower will cause the stamen to slap the insect, in the process conveying pollen that the insect will then transport to other flowers.

Women and Wildlife Awards Event Today

The Conserve Wildlife Foundation is having its annual awards event today in Stockton, from 2-5pm. My group, the Sustainable Jazz Ensemble, will be performing as part of the event. Information about the three women receiving awards for their work to preserve New Jersey's threatened wildlife can be found at http://www.conservewildlifenj.org/getinvolved/women/.

One of the women, Jackie Kashmer, has been doing heroic work to save bats, which are being devastated by White Nose Syndrome. The fungus, which was recently determined to have been introduced some years back from Europe, disturbs the bats' hibernation, causing them to run out of stored energy before spring arrives.

Jackie's 16 hour days devoted to helping bats survive the winter, detailed in a conservewildlifenj.org blogpost, are an example of the extraordinary amount of work and devotion required to counteract to any extent the destructive impact of imported organisms.

By coincidence, the NY Times article reporting on the fungus's European origins was accompanied by an article on the reintroduction of the American chestnut in Appalachia. It has taken many decades for breeding programs to develop native chestnut trees resistant to the Asian fungus that began wiping out the American chestnut tree more than a century ago. These are the sorts of quiet, awe-inspiring efforts that seldom make it into the news, but make all the difference in what sort of world we'll have in the future.

Trees On the March

Something's going on in the field down next to Faculty Drive, across Washington Road from the boathouse at Carnegie Lake.

The troops are assembled, like high-stepping Clydsdales poised for the Arbor Day parade. Ready, forward, march!

But where to? The man assigned to water these 20 foot tall specimens said they're all headed into the woods to grow in the shadow of their granddad's generation, just across Faculty Drive, where the university is finishing up its stream restoration in the valley next to the new Chemistry building. (To see a history of the project, type "stream" into the search box at the upper left corner of this website). The university had to take down a few big trees last year (some possibly 200 years old) as part of the restoration of the heavily eroded stream corridor, and looks determined to give their replacements a head start.

The stream restoration is extraordinary in terms of how they created a lovely and hopefully durable streambed, but the botanical side of the project would have been more enlightened if it had included rescue of high quality native wildflowers prior to construction, and invasive species removal on the adjacent slopes.

And though they're putting in the same species of trees they took out--tupelo, pin oak and white ash--the chances the white ash in this photo will survive for more than a decade are pretty remote, given the near certain arrival in coming years of the exotic Emerald Ash Borer now spreading eastward through Pennsylvania.

I was craning my neck to see the thick, paired twigs that identify the tree as an ash, when I realized I could just look at the tag.