milkweed

If you've been following Comptonia for a while, you may recall that I've been trying to establish milkweed plants for several years. They are very interesting plants all year round, and I photograph them often. In the winter, there is usually a dry stalk or two in a jug on a windowsill.

November 2017

For many years there have been a few milkweed plants up by the goat barn - at least, I think they are milkweed plants - but they have never produced flowers in that shady spot. So when two plants appeared a few years ago on the steep, sunny bank next to the terrace vegetable garden, I took care to protect them.

Last year, instead of two plants, there were a few. I saved some of the seeds and scattered them on the other side of the driveway - one of the last holdouts for bittersweet because it's not fenced, and it's hard for me to let the goats browse there.

July 2018

This year, enough milkweed plants sprouted that I felt that the population was established and I can start balancing a bit. In fact, there were enough plants growing on both sides of the driveway that I took a few down that had appeared right in the garden, shading the new raised bed.

The main reason I have tried to establish a milkweed "stand" is in hopes of bringing back the Monarch butterflies.

And yesterday, for the first time, in the big vegetable garden:

Yes, it is a Monarch.

 It is a Monarch on a zinnia.

The milkweed is only a few feet away, so maybe it will go there next.

Nope. Another zinnia!

I'm sure it knows where the milkweed is.

I was taking these photographs from such a distance, I could not even be sure it was a Monarch - or that any of the images would be in focus - until I put them on the laptop last night. So happy to see these snaps!

Let's hope it will be the first of many sightings.

~~~~~

fairies taking flight

When I was a child, we called milkweed seeds, floating through the air, "fairies."

If you gently caught one, you could make a wish

before setting it free to float away again.

As far as I know, there is no age limit on this.

Go forth and make wishes.

~~~~~

one more charge

I try hard every year to grow as much of my own organic vegetable supply as possible. It is literally a hard row to hoe, and my success rate is never going to result in Piper's picture on the cover of a magazine, sitting proudly beside a picturesque basket of vegetables. But good food is important, and growing it is important to me, and I try.

This year, every gardener I know is in the same situation: say the word "garden" and we sigh and shake our heads. The more demonstrative among us throw our hands into the air while sighing and shaking our heads.

It's been driving me a little bit batty that between May and June's rainy days, only one planting of pole beans had gone in. Nothing more. Even the beans aren't growing well, but have been hanging on.

Meanwhile, here's the rest of the garden:

This riotous jungle obscured even the rows that my Occasional Helper had rough-dug back in May. I knew that if I couldn't reclaim at least those rows and take the stones out and get something planted right away, I might be buying all my vegetables for the next year. So on my task list this past week - when the forecast included three days in a row with a less than 50% chance of rain - was this:

Item 1: Veg Garden. One more charge. Rescue or surrender.

As we surveyed the situation while standing knee-deep in a sea of green, my Occasional Helper said, "Well, a weed-whacker could do it." This had not occurred to me. I know nothing about motorized weed-whacking. And as I was pondering this exciting news, he added, "I have a weed-whacker."

We quickly identified exclusion zones:

the pole beans, a large patch of violets and a small clump of milkweed.

Let the whacking commence!

I began raking up the greenery while it was still fresh, and carrying it up to the herd, although it seemed unlikely they would eat such a mixed slaw. Goats, as long-time Comptonia readers know, are very particular about their food.

And sure enough, although all the goats investigated their salads, not one just reached in for mouthfuls, as a horse or cow might. They nosed it all carefully, then pulled out individual stems or leaves. Much was left uneaten and quickly wilting, so after lugging a couple of big totes up from the garden to the barn paddocks, I decided to leave the rest in place as mulch. I moved on to another task while the whacking continued.

And then, all was quiet.

I walked back down the slope and saw this:

Readers, if I work hard and stick to short-season vegetables, I might just have a garden this year. In with a chance, I call it. And while I was in the garden musing about how rarely in life we have the chance to press the Reset button, my Occasional Helper was up by the house, weed-whacking the Very Raised Bed. And then a little path by the goat barn where I get soaked first thing every morning, walking through wet vegetation. Weed whackers! Who knew? My Occasional Helper, that's who.

So, that was Thursday afternoon.

By Friday morning I had planted:

Suyo cucumbers.

Okra.

Egyptian onions.

Candy roaster squash.

It has already rained twice in less than two days since those seeds were planted. In fact, it's raining right now. But hopefully enough to help seeds germinate; not enough to wash them away or rot them.

And the forecast looks fair for Sunday and Monday,

so I will try to get more seeds in the ground.

Here's hoping!

~~~~~

nearly wordless wednesday

milkweed

 daylily

milky bellflower

~~~~~

a walk in the sun

When Piper comes along on a trip to the feed store, we usually stop midway at a public walking trail that makes a loop through the fields of a working farm.  Here Piper must stay on lead, but on a sunny day, perhaps 90F with high humidity, a walk on a lead is not as boring as it might sound.

It's a very different habitat from Piper's usual woodsy ramble. Lots of open field, hedgerows, and long-distance views.

And haze, when it's humid.

We see many plants and birds that thrive in open conditions, quite different from what we see at home.  I don't know what kind of butterfly is enjoying the milkweed, but isn't it lovely?

Note the two strands of electric fence - another very good reason for Piper to be on lead!

The farmland is nearly all pasture and hayfields, but this little knoll has a few trees that provide very welcome shade.

 These lilies tell the story of a former home site.  One sees them all over New England, often in small gaps in the forest, along abandoned cart roads, or in an area where there is no other sign of human habitation, past or present. 

Like a cheerful greeting from the past.

~~~

Even though it was all walking, no running, Piper doesn't look too disappointed, does she?  She took our sedate constitutional in typical happy-go-lucky style.

So, when we continued on to the feed store I invited Piper to come inside with me and choose her own treat from the bin.  It was crunch, crunch, crunch, all the way home. 

There are a few additional chores in the mornings lately, which is slowing me down.  But tomorrow I will try to get everything done early, so we can get into the woods for our more typical mayhem:

~~~~~