Lessons Learned From the Back Porch

The autumnal equinox arrived this past Thursday without much fanfare.  The weatherman on the local TV station talked about it, of course, but then apologized for the continuing heat in the forecast.  I did go out and buy some pansies and a few other fall annuals to replace the awful-looking dead petunias next to my front door, but  I didn't get carried away.  It's hard to think of pumpkins and mums when it's 90 degrees outside.

The asters and goldenrod apparently got the notice that it is autumn.

By the time I get this posted, however, the weather is supposed to change, with more reasonable temperatures in the 70's this week, and I won't have anything to complain about anymore--ha!  While I wait for those welcome cooler days, it's a good time to sit down and reflect on the past season for Beth's seasonal meme "Lessons Learned in the Garden."

While I'm sure I learned many new things this past season, my mind is drawing a blank.  The problem is that by mid-July, I lost all my motivation for serious gardening.  By that time I was tired of constantly pulling weeds: the consistent rain this season was a blessing, but at the same time it meant the weeds flourished, too.  After an hour or two of weeding or trimming or picking green beans, the sweat was rolling into my eyes, and I gave up.  I guess that means I've learned that I am a fair-weather gardener--if it's hot and buggy, I'm staying indoors.

Instead of doing much actual garden work for the past two months, I have spent a lot of time on my front porch noting all that has to be done and making plans for those perfect "somedays" when the temps are are in the 70's, the bugs have stopped biting, and I'm full of energy.

From my shady perch on the porch swing, I can easily see the coneflowers when they're in full bloom and get a partial view of the lily bed and even the arbor bed beyond that.

If I stand up and crane my neck a little, I can even see parts of the shade garden as well.  The best part about this viewing at a distance is that I don't really see the weeds or the deadheading that needs to be done, and I can just relax and procrastinate to my heart's content.

With several planters on or near the front porch, I have much to enjoy close-up as well, such as this hibiscus.  Fortunately, the only upkeep these planters require is frequent watering, which I do pretty faithfully since it doesn't mean working up a sweat.

Besides looking at what is blooming, my place on the porch gives me a great vantage point for watching all the visitors to my garden.  When the coneflowers bloom, the nearby sidewalk garden is alive with butterflies.  And with only a few short steps, I can get up close to observe and photograph them.

Once the coneflowers have faded, the butterflies are replaced by the goldfinches who are constantly feeding on their seedheads.  From the porch's front step I can zoom out with the camera to get a photo if I'm lucky.

The porch gives me a great vantage point, too, for observing all kinds of bird activity throughout the seasons besides the goldfinches, from hawks swooping through the air looking for prey to cardinals feasting on the tiny crabapples.  But my favorite bird activity is only a few feet away as the hummingbirds visit the feeder just beyond the swing.

I love watching them hover in the air and then battle each other for rights to the feeder.  And if I happen to have my camera and am very, very quick, I might just get lucky enough to get one decent photo of them all summer feeding at one of their favorites, the 'Black and Blue' Salvia.

Sometimes I don't even have to look very far as bees visit the planters on the porch or even more fascinating creatures come for a short while.  Yes, you never know who will come to visit!

Tiny syrphid flies are just one of the many pollinating insects to be found in the garden.

Looking through all these photos, I am reminded that I have learned another lesson this summer--I have learned much more about pollinators.  I took a few hours' training to become a "Pollinator Pocket" presenter, a program developed by our local Extension Office.  I learned so much about different insects and other pollinators and their life cycles.

I also learned more about the needs of these different pollinators, including plants that will help to feed them.  I already knew that asters and other late-blooming plants provide a valuable food source in the fall.  But a local beekeeper at the workshop reminded everyone that bees need food in the early spring as well, and he encouraged us all to plant more crocuses because they are one of the few sources of food very early in the spring.  You can be sure when I placed my bulb orders this past week that I ordered plenty of crocuses!

Not sure what type of bumble this big guy is.

Earlier in the summer I also attended a talk by Dr. Sydney Cameron, an entomologist specializing in bumblebees, on the rare Rusty-patched Bumblebee Bombus affinis.  We watched a short but fascinating documentary on this bee called "A Ghost in the Making," which you can find here on YouTube.  The rusty-patched bumblebee was once very common in parts of the U.S., but for reasons unknown its numbers have dwindled, and it is now being considered as an endangered species.

This talk inspired me to look more closely at the bumblebees in my own garden, and while I can't identify them by type, I know that my visitors are the much more common species normally seen throughout this area.  Still, I am searching for that elusive rusty-patched bumblebee!

Linda of Each Little World and Lisa of Greenbow enjoy chatting with Susan.

One of the places where this rare bumblebee has been spotted in recent years is at the University of Wisconsin Arboretum.  On a visit to Madison earlier this month to meet up with a few fellow bloggers,  Beth introduced us to Susan Carpenter, Native Plant Gardener at the Arboretum.  As she was talking about her work here, she happened to bring up the rusty-patched bumblebee and mentioned that part of the film I had seen was filmed at the Arboretum.  Talk about coincidence!

We didn't find any rusty-patched bumblebees on this day, but we did see many other species, and Susan mentioned that one of their favorite plants this time of year is the native thistle.

Looking back, I realize that maybe I did learn more this summer than I realized.  I know I'm going to be more conscious of pollinators and do what I can to increase their numbers in my garden.  And while I've enjoyed the past two months on the porch, this morning is much cooler and pleasant, so it's time to get off that swing and get to work!


For more reflections on lessons learned in the garden this past season, be sure to stop by Beth's at Plant Postings.

Garden Lessons Learned in 2013

Happy New Year, everyone!  I hope that you enjoyed the holidays and were able to spend time with friends and family.  I noticed a considerable drop in blogging the past month, myself included.  Besides the usual rush of Christmas activities, I was hit with a respiratory virus right before Christmas that kept me down for more than a week.  Thanks to some antibiotics, I'm finally on the mend. Now that I've finally got a little more energy and with the holiday rush over, I plan to catch up on reading blogs as well as posting a little more often.

I had planned to join Plant Postings' seasonal meme on lessons learned in the garden this past autumn.  Since I didn't make the December 20 deadline, I'm going to look back at the year overall and focus on one special aspect of the garden that has become more and more appealing to me.

I've learned that a garden isn't just for me--it supports a host of wildlife who enjoy it--and need it--just as much as I do. The creatures who inhabit or visit the garden have taught me as many valuable lessons as planting and weeding have.

 Lesson #1:  Even the seemingly ordinary can contain small miracles.  I was pruning the Knockout roses this spring when I noticed this strange growth on one of the branches.  A quick photo was taken and compared to internet images; sure enough, this is a mantis egg case, the first I'd ever seen.  Unfortunately, I didn't notice an abundance of praying mantises this year, compared to past years, but I'm sure they were around, had I continued to pay more careful attention.

Another small miracle that I did pay more careful attention to was this dove nesting in the old lilac. My husband first noticed her while mowing, and pointed out her nest to me as well as to the grandkids when they visited. 

She seemed unperturbed by our attention, and since her nest was just a foot above eye level,  it was easy to see. We watched the amazing miracle over the next few weeks as she cared for the babies who emerged until they became fledglings who eventually left the nest.

Lesson #2: Sometimes we're too busy focusing on the task at hand to notice what is right in front of our faces.  I know I'm not the only one who has photographed a flower only to discover when I downloaded my pictures a little winged creature I hadn't even noticed at the time. 



I enjoy watching the bees busily flying about in my garden, but they're not the easiest creatures to photograph, especially honeybees and the smaller bees. I always think it's serendipity when one pauses at just the right second as the camera shutter clicks.

Lesson #3: Just as with the garden, there is always something new to be learned when it comes to wildlife.  While I know we have had foxes around our farm before, this summer was the first time one ventured close enough for me to see it on a regular basis.  For a month or two, she/he (and oftentimes with its mate) would stroll across the front yard every evening before disappearing into the cornfield.

Despite the fox's often unsavory reputation in fables and fairy tales, I think they're beautiful creatures.  I spent many a summer evening watching her as she watched me, each keeping our distance.

Lesson #4: Even the smallest of creatures often knows more about Nature than I do.  The woolly worm is a weather prognosticator for many of us.  When I saw several of these this fall, I decided I'd better be prepared for a bad winter--the black head and tail, according to folklore, means a cold beginning and end to winter with a lot of snow in between.  So far, his forecast has been accurate.

Lesson #5: There is a reason I leave most of the garden standing over the winter instead of cutting back everything in the fall. 

Fall is always such a busy time that I never complete all my projects anyway, but I often consider doing some cutting back just to make things look a little tidier through the cold months.  The goldfinches, however, confirmed my decision--dried seedheads have their own usefulness and beauty.

Lesson #6: Patience.  Although this lesson is taught over and over again in the garden, there is nothing quite like trying to photograph a hummingbird to teach you patience.  I've tried for years to get a decent photo of a hummingbird in flight and finally managed to get a couple this year. The pictures weren't that great, but I was happy.

These little birds just fascinate me.  It was a great year for hummingbirds, and I spent many hours watching them dance in the air and holding one-sided conversations with them.  We had a warm fall, and they stayed longer than usual--into late September.  I hope they arrived safely at their winter homes, and I hope they remembered the chatty lady on the porch who will have the feeders ready for them again this summer.

Lesson #7: Optimism.  While it was a great year for hummingbirds, it wasn't such a great year for butterflies.

So few appeared this summer that I was beginning to worry what had happened to them all.  Finally, as summer turned into fall, Painted Ladies, Red Admirals, and Buckeyes came to visit the garden, reminding me to never give up hope.

Fall also brought visits from my favorite butterfly and my favorite photo from 2013.  What is it about the majestic Monarch that fascinates us so?  The scientific research about its life cycle and yearly migration is certainly interesting, but even without that, I am in awe of its beauty.  Nothing makes me stop to really live in the moment as does the appearance of a Monarch.

The wildlife that visited my garden this past season taught me many lessons, but most of all they taught me to appreciate all the little miracles of Nature and to really live in the moment.  I look forward to their return this spring, but in the meantime there are the winter birds to watch . . .

. . . and, of course, the "wildlife" that live here year-round.  

Wishing you all a year filled with new experiences in your garden and the joy and peace that Nature can bring.

I'm In Denial

The change has begun.  In just the past week, the trees have begun to put on their autumn colors. Mornings are chilly, and the ground has been covered with a white frost the past two days.  For the first time in months, I awoke to a house too cool for comfort and turned on the furnace.

Even though the signs are all around me, I have been in a state of denial.  September was a beautiful month, but I spent most of it substitute teaching more than usual and working on projects in my house, instead of in the garden.  I enjoyed just looking at the garden and walking around it, making notes of things I want to change this fall. 

I'd like to expand several of the garden areas and had planned to do a little digging each day to remove more of the lawn.  But other than planting a few new plants given to me by a friend, the spade has sat idle. The first bulb order arrived over a week ago--with more to come--and yesterday I bought over a hundred more bulbs after attending a talk on bulbs at a local garden center.  I need to start planting these, or I will be out in the cold winds of November trying to put bulbs in the ground with frozen fingers.

Yes, the signs are all around me, but I have chosen to ignore them, living in a fantasy world of  'Endless Summer.' At the very least, I have been thinking that fall would go on forever, and I had all the time in the world to work in the garden.

  Speaking of signs, does anyone know what these colorful leaves are?  Tangled in old tomato cages that should have been thrown away long ago, they're an indication of many uncompleted projects from the summer. I'll leave an answer in a comment.

The Beautyberry looks striking this time of year with its arching branches covered in purple berries, but it is nearly hidden by tall zinnias on either side and nicotania (still!) blooming behind it.

But this is one of the main reasons for my state of denial--

how can I pull out annuals when they still look so good??

A zinnia bud promises more blooms to come, if only the cold weather would hold off.

The 'Illumination' begonia, which hasn't done much all summer, finally shows signs of a glorious display if only there were time enough.

Invigorated by the mild temperatures and frequent rains of September, 'Vanilla Strawberry' Hydrangea paniculata has put out a few new blooms.

To my surprise, even a few coneflowers are also ignoring the warning signs of fall. 

Cosmos are still putting out their cheery blooms and reaching for the October skies.

As if to remind me that it is October, after all, and time for me to get busy, the asters 'October Skies' are covered in blooms.

This mass of blooms over six feet long started from three tiny plants last spring!

It is hard to think of winter coming all too soon when the garden is still a hive of activity.  Bees and more butterflies than I've seen all season are busy visiting the garden, finding enough warmth in the afternoon sun.  But I know they are aware of the changing seasons and probably fueling up for the winter ahead or migration to warmer climes.  The hummingbirds have been absent for the past week, and I can only imagine that they have already found their winter homes in Central America.

Other residents in the garden are preparing for winter in their own way.  Note the bulging abdomen of this little lady; no doubt there will soon be egg sacs of little mantids hidden below the sedum and waiting for spring.  I think she's trying to tell me something, don't you?  She's probably thinking it's time I wake up and realize that fall is fleeting.  I may be in denial, but a hard freeze predicted for tonight may change my mind.  That should provide the reality shock that's it's time I get busy!

Too Many Distractions . . .

After complaining all summer about the heat, I'm happy to report that we had three beautiful days at the beginning of this week with temperatures in the low 80's and cool, sunny mornings.   Of course, the heat is back again and seems intent on staying, but for three glorious days I finally felt like working in the garden--well, one day was spent with the three older grandkids, enjoying one of their last free days before school starts.  So make that two glorious days to get all the weeds pulled, flowers deadheaded, etc., etc.

The first order of business was to start on the Butterfly Garden, which has turned into the Garden of Chaos this summer.  I was happy to see so many plants reseed themselves this spring, but it has meant my original careful plans for planting last year have been scrapped, and the volunteers have taken control of the garden.  To add to the chaos, I wasn't always able to identify seedlings.  Thus, flowers were inadvertently hoed out, and weeds were often allowed to stay.  The seedlings that grew taller and taller for the past few months found me scratching my head--were these weeds or could they be asters?  As it turns out, they were members of the aster family (what isn't??), but not desirable ones.  The tall plant at the left of the photo above towering over even the cosmos and Joe Pye weed is a horseweed, or as my Dad calls it, mare's tail.

Now the horseweed does have some rather pretty flowers, as you can see, but it is a weed after all, even if it is included in my Illinois Wildflowers book, so it must come down.  Armed with long-handled pruners--a machete would have been more useful--I tiptoed through the jungle of plants to cut each plant down.

Two down . . . oh, look at this little bee feasting on the cosmos blossom.  Let's just put the pruners down for a moment and grab the camera, conveniently tucked inside my pants pocket.

And what are these fluttering wings on the nearby Susans?  I think they might be Pearl Crescents, tiny little butterflies that I've never been able to photograph.  Be very still . . .

Ah, patience is rewarded.  Aren't these sweet?

I think he must like me after all, to stay so still.  And look, he even has a friend . . . or at least I hope that's a friend, not some predatory wasp.  Fly away, little Pearl!

Ok, back to the horseweed on the other side of the garden and some other unidentified weeds . . .

Still not sure if one weed-looking plant is an aster, but one mystery is solved.  Yes, this IS goldenrod, and it's blooming already!  I think this out-of-focus insect is a soldier beetle, often seen in my garden. Let's put the pruners down again for a moment and get some better pictures of the goldenrod.

Well, now that's a little better.  The bees obviously love this plant . . .

. . . as do the Sulphurs.  But then the Sulphurs seem to like every type of flower--there are literally clouds of them flying about every flowerbed I have.

Oh, but wait!  This little butterfly is not so common, and I've never gotten a photograph of it.  I'm not sure if it's the Eastern Blue, but it looks very much like it.  I wish I could get a better picture, but it just won't stay still and it is so tiny.

Wow, I didn't realize that goldenrod attracted so many creatures.  I'm not sure what either of these is, but the one on the left looks a lot like the cicada killer wasp pictured in my insect book.

Perhaps it is looking for this.  The cicadas are thick right now, their loud song providing a sort of buzzing lullaby each night.

I seem to have lost interest in weeding . . . maybe I'd better go water some of the containers before the sun dries them out again.

At least while I am watering, I can lock the hose into open position and put it down if I get distracted.  An orange butterfly has been eluding me for the past several minutes, flying away each time I put the hose down and get my camera.  I think it's a fritillary, but where did it go?  No, this isn't it--it's a butterfly I haven't seen before, and in fact, I have no idea what it is. Hmm, interesting. 

Put the camera away, Rose, and finish up the watering, for heaven's sake.  At least the porch planter won't be so distracting; the butterflies don't seem to like its shady environs as well.  Oh, but look at this cute little hoverfly burrowing into the petunia blossom. 

"Hey, aren't I pretty enough for one of your pictures?"

"Well, of course, you are, Mr. Mantis!  You know you're one of my favorite subjects, especially since you sit still so nicely for all photos."

Ok, the watering is done.  Time to get back to those weeds in the Butterfly Garden . . .

Oh, but I have to take just one little photo of this swallowtail on the orange cosmos!  I've been bragging about what great pollinator magnets these cosmos are, and what better example could there be than this.  Please, Ms. Swallowtail, could you move just a little to your right?

Better . . . but I still can't see your face . . .

Ah, perfect!  Thank you so much!

Ok, the perfect photo has been taken; now it's time to get back to weeding.  But wait, it's lunchtime already, and then I might just have to take a little afternoon nap after working so hard all morning.  

I just don't understand why I don't seem to get much done in the garden:)

Sending wishes for a Happy 85th Birthday to my Dad today!