The summer is almost over, as signified by the tangle of plants threatening to engulf the garden paths, and I haven’t written a single post! I expected to have eons of “extra” time now that I completed my term on the selectboard, but somehow it gets filled right up! My photographs tell a story of travel, bioblitzes, and food production.
Charley and I spent a few weeks exploring prairies in the upper Midwest in late June- early July in an effort to flesh out our knowledge of leafminers that specialize in prairie plants. We braved clouds of mosquitoes and black flies, sneaky chiggers, fast-running Lone Star ticks, thigh-high poison ivy, and received amazing hospitality from a number of newly made friends. It was somewhat of a surprise to discover that there are many people who have planted and maintain extensive prairies, putting in hundreds–maybe thousands–of hours of back-breaking labor each year to remove invasive species, expand their prairies, and keep them diverse and healthy.
Bioblitzes are events that seek to find and identify as many species as possible in a 24-hour period in a defined geographic area. Given our esoteric expertise (and thereby minimal overlap with other species seekers), Charley and I are often popular attendees.
The day after we got home from the prairie trip, we headed to Concord, MA for a bioblitz that celebrated E.O. Wilson’s 90th birthday and also the 30th anniversary of the world’s very first bioblitz, which was also held in Concord. We added around 175 species of mainly leaf-miners and gall-makers to the day’s tally–a respectable effort.
July and August have passed in a blur of work and travel: I took a trip to Nantucket to work in the museum for a bit, and later Charley went to Maine to teach a week-long course on leafminers at the Eagle Hill Institute. I just returned from a trip to Chicago to attend a friend’s wedding. Through it all, we had the company of my college roommate and her sweet dog.
In the yard and garden, plants are growing fairly vigorously despite the lack of rain.
This week’s major project was fulfilling part of the “support” garden goal: building the grape trellis we’ve been talking about for two years while our grapes dragged the garden fence to the ground and allowed the rabbits in to eat the beans.
After much consideration and browsing of photos, I drew something up, made a cut list, and asked our local hero neighbor Cory at Northwoods Forest Products if he would be able to supply the lumber. Sure enough, he found cedar to mill for the posts in northern Vermont, and hemlock locally for the upper parts. A week after he dropped off the lumber, Charley and I redrew the plans completely differently (since I lost my original drawings), dug the holes, set the posts, cut all the lumber in the garage while it rained, and screwed everything together on Mother’s Day morning.
Nothing is flat around here, and I’d decided that keeping the arbor level would end up looking best… so I borrowed a level and got to work… and the optical illusions started. It was so hard to believe the level was correct that I took it inside and put it on the floor and wall to prove to myself that it was actually right on. The post closest in the picture below is about 5′ from the ground to the top; the one farthest away is almost 8′. The slope of the hedge/ road makes the whole thing look a bit like it is falling down, but hopefully when it gets covered with vines the optical illusion will vanish.
Part of the reason we hurried to finish it all in just 2 days was that as we started to build it, tree swallows were taking interest in the nest box adjacent to one of the posts and we didn’t want to scare them off. When it was done, we were worried that they wouldn’t like how their view was obscured, so we added a new birdhouse on the front of it. Sure enough, Charley saw them bringing nesting material to the new box this morning.
We also spent some time this week delineating the beds in the lower garden, mulching paths, and generally setting ourselves up for soil success.
I’m a big fan of Lee Reich; I first heard of him through the fantastic garden blog awaytogarden.com, written by Margaret Roach, and now each winter/ spring as we get out the pruners I sit down with his guide to fruit trees “Growing Fruit Naturally.” Just a month ago, my sister gave me his book “Weedless Gardening.” The concepts he embraces are nothing new—as kids, our parents admonished us not to walk on (and compact) the soil in our garden, but coming back to this as an adult with my own garden makes me want to make it more clear to everyone who might wander into the garden where it’s okay to walk and where it isn’t. I’m also trying out Lee’s method of smothering the lawn with layers of newspaper and mulch, both as paths and as new beds that will get a layer of compost and straw on top of the mulch.
In the hoophouse, the greens are so abundant that we’re eating huge salads every day and I can’t even tell that anything has been picked.
The ostrich ferns have given us one fiddlehead from each plant in our breakfast omelets.
Many fruit trees and bushes are blooming right now—the plums are already finished, and the peaches look lovely (but I forgot to take a picture of them…)
And we’re getting daily visits from our prickly neighbor, who happily munches dandelions, bedstraw, grass, and the occasional strawberry leaf. He (or she) calmly eats as we pass by with a wheelbarrow, hang the laundry, or sit down nearby for a visit.
Our recent bird list has been growing quickly as the weather warms. The daily regulars are: American goldfinches, ruby-throated hummingbirds, gray catbirds, northern cardinals, dark-eyed juncos, eastern bluebirds, chipping sparrows, tree swallows, barn swallows, yellow-rumped warblers, rose-breasted grosbeak, scarlet tanagers, Baltimore orioles, ravens, American crows… Today we had a nice close look at a gorgeous male chestnut sided warbler in a cherry tree.
A final note today: last week Northfield held its local elections, and I am pleased to say that I have completed my term serving on the Selectboard. It has been interesting, at times challenging, and left me as a more well-informed citizen. I’ve grown into a tougher and more confident person. I’m looking forward to more evenings free of meetings, fewer stressful decisions, a lot less paper entering my house, and the opportunity to spend more of my time serving the community with “deep digs” into the issues nearest to my heart (land and energy conservation) instead of the higher-level attention to the broad range of issues I’ve been involved in these last three years. To the new board, I wish the best of luck, gratitude, and wisdom.
Well, I have been delinquent in taking photos lately, but we have built a fence… fulfilling part of this years’ garden goal: Protect.
We carefully dug a 6 inch deep trench in which we buried the bottom of the fence, and worked on the gate so it swings just an inch above the ground. Our hope is to keep the voracious rabbits out, so we can grow beans again!
We also staked out the raspberries, gave them support wires, and dug out the ones that had transformed our original tidy rows into a wide, unpickable patch, immediately replanting them at the end of the rows.
Earlier in the month, while I was at work, Charley heard a monstrous noise at our neighbors’ house. For once, the sound brought joy– a wood chipper! Just a few days before he was wondering how we might be able to obtain an unlimited supply of mulch. Charley ran over and talked to the landscaper–Would he like a place to dump the chips? We had a place available and would be delighted to have them. One batch of chips was from a willow tree that had been damaged in a wind storm. As we have applied some of it around a few fruit trees, we collected several twigs that escaped the chipper and put them in water. In a week or so, they had sprouted roots and we put them in the ground. Perhaps our neighbors’ willow will yet live.
I would be remiss if I did not celebrate the spring. Every new green thing, each individual flower is marked in this fresh season. We’re hungry for color, and go for slow walks around the yard and in the woods to see what tender new plants are poking up each day.
On April 26, Charley and I celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary. The day of was scattered and busy, so instead we got a whole week to draw out the observance… Generously gifted tickets to the hilarious Trevor Noah’s “Loud and Clear” stand-up show, the season’s first asparagus meal from our garden, a trip to see my folks and extended family–and the spring ephemeral wildflowers–in Ohio, and a visit from my dear friend Patricia (who also kept the chickens and seedlings alive while we were in Ohio).
She literally “tied the knot” for us at our wedding ceremony, so it was especially fun this anniversary with her.
Kindest greetings, friends, neighbors, family, and followers!
I thought I’d call in the new year by reviewing my photos from the second half of last year and setting a few goals for 2019. Doing so just helped me remember that the world is very colorful compared to what I am currently accustomed to seeing. It is funny how that surprises me every winter.
The late summer and fall is a time of great abundance. The garden seemed to burst at the seams.
I spent a lot of time this late summer preserving food. Now we have a full freezer, a full pantry, a full list, and a full belly. I’m not a fan of the green tomato salsa, but the tomato-peach salsa is amazing, the regular tomato is pretty good, and so is the tomatillo. We have enough tomato sauce and salsa to make it to next July or August when there will hopefully be tomatoes again. We have too many jars of sweet-hot pickled peppers (my five Hungarian Hot Wax pepper plants outdid themselves, unlike the neighboring bell peppers). We’re in good shape for pickles, jams, applesauce, peaches, and grape juice. Low on dilly beans, since the rabbits ate practically all the bean plants to the ground while we were in Canada.
In wildlife news, we had the great misfortune of a weasel finding our chicken coop just before the holidays. To make matters worse, it was while we were travelling, so our next-door neighbors had to deal with most of the carnage. However, we have the great good fortune of having of many fantastic neighbors, so we called on another to rescue our remaining hens by taking the girls down the mountain to their coop. Upon our return, we discovered a little weasel nest in a hidden corner of our coop, with lots of scat and a round weasel-sized impression on top of a mouse nest. Needless to say, we have shored up all the holes in the coop (adding rocks and concrete at ground level and hardware cloth around the eaves). An attempt to trap the beast has so far yielded two red-backed voles and an eastern cottontail, which we released. The hens are home and safe, but we have not yet dared to let them into their run. Instead, we’ve been taking them on escorted walks to scratch in the gardens.
Way before being preoccupied with weasels, we enjoyed a robin nesting on our porch in June. Turkeys walked through the yard in August. A squirrel played in the chicken run in September.
A friendly porcupine hangs out in the yard regularly, mumbling under Charley’s window and munching branches. It seems to enjoy hemlock and elm especially. I’ve been trying to decide if our place needs a name for several years now, especially when I go to the farmer’s market. I’m beginning to think that the porcupine deserves to be featured. Perhaps “Contented Porcupine Farm” or “Mumbling Porcupine Farm”. Maybe one of you has a better idea. Do share.
Aside from wildlife visitors, we have had some human house guests, including my parents, my sister, my friend Patricia, and a whole lovely boisterous houseful of families making music and eating just before the new year. Plus, Charley and I took our annual birthday trip to the cranberry bogs. And as always, the weather was glorious.
And now for the goals:
Garden goals: cover, protect, support. I’m no fan of border walls, but in the garden, good fences do make good neighbors. I like admiring the wildlife without being angry that the rabbits destroyed my bean crop. Solid fences and row covers will be my friends this year. And I really need to give those grapes a trellis.
Life goals: Value my time by setting boundaries in volunteerism. Notice the abundance. Verbalize the gratitude. Expand the joy.
Charley and I just returned home from a two-and-a-half week long trip to Michigan and Canada in which we visited family and friends, looked for leaf mines (of course), and attended the Lepidopterists’ Society annual meeting in Ottawa. The meeting was the impetus for the trip and Michigan was “on the way.”
Our first stop was to visit our friend Eric LoPresti (who encouraged us to go to California last year, as I detailed here). Just a few miles east of East Lansing, he took us to a nice riverside park with abundant leaf mines, and veritable flocks of lovely Ebony Jewelwing damselflies.
Ebony Jewelwing (Calopteryx maculata)
Eric LoPresti with Charley
On a tight schedule, we continued west to meet up with my parents at the Lake Michigan Recreation Area campground–a place my family used to vacation when I was in elementary school, but we hadn’t returned to since. Mosquitoes were abundant, but there was a nice breeze from the lake, interesting hikes into the Nordhouse dunes, and opportunity for refreshing swims in Lake Michigan.
sunset with Mom and Dad
Charley holds the sun
Charley as Frodo
Dad catches the sun
Charley dreams of trees?
After two days of hiking, swimming, cooking, and visiting, my parents had to drive home and Charley and I headed to Ludington to meet up with Charley’s mom, sister, neice, nephew, aunt and uncle. We enjoyed sailing with them aboard the Tiny Island, and kayaking with the kids. Cordelia even spotted a bryozoan colony in the lake, and we all got to take a look (sadly, no photo, but it looked like Pectinatella magnifica, pictured here). Perhaps my favorite activity was building sandcastles with the kids.
is the lighthouse on a ship?
To the lighthouse!
Eiseman family photo
Lysander with our drip castle
Before the 4th of July, Charley and I left for the calm of the upper peninsula. First stop, dispersed camping at East Lake (well, after checking out some cool limestone “sea stacks” and buying very affordable wild rice).
Sunset on East Lake
Not our favorite camping for a variety of reasons including large numbers of biting flies, fishermen who hung out quite near our campsite, etc… BUT, we found nepticulid (tiny moth) leaf mines on a bulrush that were of great interest.
Deer fly (Chrysops) eyes
Water strider (Gerridae) eating a fly
Nepticulid leaf mine in rushes
Damselfly eggs inserted underwater
We did some sightseeing at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, enjoying the scenery, flowers, waterfalls, and I even took a numbing plunge into icy Lake Superior to escape the stable flies.
Wood Sorrel (Oxalis montana)
Julia by waterfall
Heading north into Ontario, we began to experience biting flies in earnest! I resorted to wearing a headnet for moments of reprieve. The moth enthusiasts pictured below were impressively intrepid as we ventured into Algonquin Provincial Park.
Power lines delivering Canadian Hydro to points south
specimen prep at the Drombrowski cabin
Gray tree frog
Charley, Erik van Neirkerken, Jason Dombrowskie
The final portion of our trip was several days attending the Lepidopterists’ Society annual meeting. This was our first, and it was fascinating. Talks ranged from phylogenies of various moth groups, to caterpillar communication, to using CRISPR to alter butterfly wing patterns, to gynandromorphs (individuals with both male and female gonads and coloration), to butterfly surveys and conservation, to… you guessed it, leaf mines!
Erik and Charley
Phyllocnistis populiella, a leafmining moth found on aspen
Looking through pressed leafmines at the Canadian National Collection
Arriving home, we discovered healthy, happy chickens (many thanks to neighbors who cared for them), a garden that looks like a jungle ravaged by rabbits, and a sad mulberry tree that a bear ripped in half to get at the berries.
I’ll leave you with these cool insects from Parc des Rapides-Deschênes, Quebec: a mayfly and a caddisfly.
What a difference a month makes! Now flowers and leafy trees abound. I’ve been so busy the last two weeks that I forgot to take any pictures. Therefore, the photos here are all from the first week of April or earlier.
On April 28, Charley and I took a little hike to a waterfall on Mount Toby. I was loving the Trailing arbutus (or mayflower, the Massachusetts state flower), and seeing the first trillium and hepatica of the season.
Maiden Hair Fern
Red eft (immature red-spotted newt)
Closer to home, on May 1 we checked out our local beaver pond and discovered heaps of snow fleas congregating on stumps of beaver-cut trees. These were covered with sap coming up from the roots of the trees. I’m not sure what the snow fleas were up to, but they were on multiple stumps, and it seemed like perhaps they were attracted to the moisture.
beaver pond from west bank
In early spring I just can’t get enough of the spring ephemeral wildflowers. We’ve planted a bunch on the east side of our house, where they seem to be thriving–and spreading. Now, May 21, the phlox, dwarf ginseng, and waterleaf are also blooming.
We’ve been delighted that our plum trees really went to town blooming this spring for the first time. Now, fingers crossed that we might actually get to eat a plum… And we should, since a huge variety of native bees, wasps and flies were busily visiting the flowers every time I put my head anywhere near the tree.
Charley likes pollinators
soaking up the sun
Since we are no longer using fire wood, it seemed like a good time to get some more. Our neighbor delivered 3 cords of wood, backing up across our crazy yard without even squashing one flower, and when Charley asked if he could dump it “as close to the shed as possible, without crushing this daffodil” that is exactly what we got. Thanks, Northwoods Forest Products! Now we just have to finish stacking it…
close to the shed
but save the daffodil
We’ve also been enjoying the garden a lot. This time of year is all about salads and asparagus and rhubarb.
strawberry dew drops
greens in the hoophouse
cabbage white treat for the chickens
This morning I noticed that our first strawberry is starting to turn red (in the hoop house); the rest are blooming. On May 18, I spent all day planting things– tomatoes, broccoli, onions (I know, it’s late for onions), leeks, beans. I’m experimenting with leaving more “weeds” and trying hard not to agitate the soil as I plant. Despite all I’ve been learning about soil microbes and what they need to be healthy, it’s still really difficult to train myself not to want to “prepare” a bed like I grew up doing. Charley mowed some of the meadowy parts of our yard that haven’t been mowed for a year, and I used the grass as mulch around my new seedlings. At this point, most bugs that were overwintering in dead stems should have emerged, so it seems an okay time to mow.
hazy first green May
Most of our violets are purple, or white, or white with a few purple streaks coming out of the center. But these are speckled! They’re in the the “blueberry barrens” area up by the hedge.
What a tough month! I’m overwhelmed at every level. When I watch the news, the deep dishonestly, corruption, and incompetence at the national level blows me away. At a local level, I find that my role on the selectboard is leaving me feeling drained. And then there is the fact that it keeps on snowing! I finally planted peas anyway (April 18, in the warm sunshine).
Lower garden with pea trellis yesterday morning.
I am normally anxious to start planting seeds in early March, but this year it just seemed too early. Finally I got some seeds in pots on April 7… the bulk of the tomatoes, peppers, and flowers. They just sat there in the cold for a week and half until I stuck the flats under the woodstove; now they are starting to sprout, since we’re still having regular fires. I had started a few tomatoes and broccoli to test seed about a month earlier, and they’re under grow lights now.
The flowering orchids have brought me joy, and about a week ago a begonia that my mom gave us started blooming too.
Outside, crocus! Every year I am so grateful for these first cheery little guys. So brave.
And the spring beauties are up (I’ve seen a few blooms elsewhere, but the ones in our yard are feeling shy). Harbinger of Spring (Erigenia bulbosa) is blooming, as are the female flowers of our cultivated hazelnuts. The male catkins still haven’t released pollen, so we’re hoping the female flowers can hang on for a while longer in order to make nuts.
Today might be the first day of spring, but we still have about a foot of snow on the ground with the possibility of more to come tomorrow.
reflections on ice
Yesterday we took a walk down to the old quarry to visit the local porcupine neighborhood and see who else was ambling around in the past week.
porcupine trail near the quarry
Charley and I at the quarry
Turns out, in addition to porcupines steadily walking on well-beaten paths, a bobcat bounded around the quarry, daintily made its way across the snow crust, toes splayed wide like snowshoes, and meandered through the blackberry thickets in our woods.
bobcat bounding up
bobcat bounding down
bobcat walking on crust
And for a real treat, we found otter slide tracks around the edge of the beaver pond, complete with scat made of fish scales.
otter slide on beaver pond
In garden news, not much is happening. We have lettuce and spinach growing under lights inside. In the hoop house, the voles happily ate all of the greens and even some of the tops of the leeks. Some chickweed is coming in… hopefully they don’t devour it all too!
spinach and lettuce under lights
The houseplants are feeling the longer days though.
It was all going so nicely until it started raining tonight! Will tomorrow reveal ice-coated twigs, or slush?
We’ve barely gotten outside, but sometimes the cold just helps us be productive; Charley is working on his leafminer book (and you, too, could become a patron and obtain a copy of the first edition). Meanwhile, I have been identifying arthropods that fell in pitfall traps. And… we both took a trip to New York to learn how to dissect moth genitalia. Fascinating! Difficult. And essential for describing new species.
Charley doing a dissection
So, as soon as we get a new microscope and practice a whole lot more, we’ll be in business!
Okay, now on to the yard: There are greens in the hoophouse. Not a lot, but I imagine in a few weeks we might have enough to pick a salad.
There have been tons of turkeys in the yard. Here are some tracks where they’ve made canyons through the snow.
turkey track canyons
The beaver pond is very nice to visit too. We’ve seen fox and coyote tracks down there.
edge of the pond
waterfall down to beaver pond
It feels good to go outside every day to greet the hens, and admire the snow, and leave our tracks among the animals’; and it feels good to come in and cozy up to the microscope.
It’s a new year, and that brings reflection on the past and planning for the future. Actually, it’s just so darn cold that it’s hard to stay outside long, which leaves a little more time than usual for contemplation.
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
I spent the last days of the year drooling my way through the Fedco seed catalog, but managed to keep this year’s order under $70, with only a few wildcard “just for fun” varieties and an adequate supply of the old standbys. I also sorted my saved seed and went through older packets to see what is still good from previous years.
I’ve vowed to do a better job of succession planting this year. I tend to get very excited about the first round, and then forget to plant again until a little too late. I’m working on adding notes to my calendar to re-plant various crops so they aren’t neglected.
I actually did a decent job of getting the greens going in the hoop house in time for winter, but with a week of sub-zero temperatures, I haven’t even gotten up the nerve to open the door to see if anything is still alive. And that’s in part because the patterns of ice on the door are so beautiful.
on the hoophouse door
I’m also hoping to be a more consistent vendor at the farmers’ market. The last two years I’ve been a regular for the early months, then dropped off as my schedule becomes complicated, my crops look less perfect, and I strive to preserve food for the winter in my spare time. The motivation to be a vendor is not about income (though I hope to at least pay for my seed order), and more about being a part of the community, and providing delicious, healthy food to people. Sometimes it doesn’t feel worth it to spend all morning packing up my veggies and trek into town to sit in the sun for three hours just to bring home $50. But those are the days when I need to remember the friendships I’m nurturing and the joy of handing over my food to someone who’ll go home and enjoy eating it.
And that will keep me as busy as the beavers who’ve moved in next door. But I like being busy. I like growing food. Action, nutrition, and dirt under my fingernails keep me from feeling overwhelmed and depressed.
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Actually, another goal this year is to reallybelieve in the possibility of a better future for our world. Lately, reading the news has gotten me down. Every struggle just seems so exhausting, overwhelming, unwinnable, damaging. But then I look around, and see myself surrounded by truly good people, people who are kind and funny and work hard and care about justice. I see beautiful forests and tangled thickets that give me delicious berries to eat year after year. I see a world worth fighting for.
I’m learning to be brave. My father told me that one of his and my mom’s goals in raising my sister and me was to help us believe that we could do anything, be anything, fix anything. They succeeded. I believe that together, as a community of people who care, we can fix the problems I see in our society. It’ll take team work, time, sunshine, water, and back-breaking effort, but we can grow a better world. We must.
Charley at Deep Woods
Ice on sandstone
Part of that, I believe, is being in love with and in awe of the world we have. It’s time for me to let the beauty of ice crystals take my breath away, the miracle of bird wings to make me stop in my tracks, and my sweetie’s excitement about a parasitic wasp’s life history become mine. The wonder will give reason and energy for the difficult work of activism.