Merrimack Valley Magazine

The Backyard Naturalist – BEHOLD!

December 27, 2021 by Sarah Courchesne Leave a Comment

The Unbreakable, Unshakeable Air Plant

I keep many houseplants, but I do not always keep them well, or long. As I write this, the remains of a jade plant sit in silent rebuke beside me. The plant had flourished for months, and I had started to feel a measure of pride that I found its preferred water and light levels as new, fleshy leaves continued to sprout at semiregular intervals. Then, during one of the unbroken stretches of stifling humid weather this summer, the stalks of the plant began to soften and then molder. Now it’s a pile of gray mulch in a pot at my elbow.

I’ve had other plants that were dead and I couldn’t even tell. A cactus I continued to water, sparingly as instructed, was not growing, but was still green and perky. Then one day I knocked into it and the cactus tipped over and rolled across the floor, unconnected to the soil and, it turned out, hollow inside. It was a long-dead husk of its former self.

These experiences have led me to be leery of the impulse-buy plants that garden shops put right near the registers. Venus flytraps and an array of sensitive plants, all presented as novelties your kids would beg you to buy like they do packs of gum at the grocery store. I resist these plants, knowing my skill set and their certain fate if they come home with me. The one exception to the rule I have ever found are the air plants.

While at a local garden and gift shop one day, I saw a weathered box beside the register with a jumble of air plants in it. These were labeled “Tillandsia,” which is the name of a genus that includes several hundred different species. These plants do not need to root in soil, living instead as epiphytes or aerophytes — plants that draw water and nutrients through their leaves. The air plants in the shop tousled in the box, their clusters of silver gray spears elegantly curving, soft and felted to the touch. I succumbed to the retail trick and bought three of them, taking them home and setting them up in a cracked clear-glass Christmas ornament I found in a box of free stuff outside a thrift store. The Tillandsias have been hanging in my kitchen window ever since, and I am fairly certain they are still alive.

The plants came with the kind of simple instructions that appear straightforward at first and then prove to be wildly and inadequately nonspecific when put into practice. Phrases like “bright, indirect light,” “moderate temperatures,” and “water when needed” leave me in paroxysms of doubt, knowing that I have killed so many plants before, some by drowning, some by fever, some by too little attendance, some by its excess. An orchid I received as a gift months ago is the first one I have kept alive that long, and only because the tag read “water once a week by placing two to three ice cubes in the pot,” though even the latitude of choosing between two or three ice cubes gives me weekly pause.

For the Tillandsia, the instructions were to soak them for 10 minutes a week. I let mine float in my fish tank for their baths, and they seem none the worse for the head-buttings the fish give them. Sometimes their leaf tips get a little browned and crispy, but then it goes away. They’ve been in the globe in the window for more than a year, not really growing, but not really dying, either, and that, if you were to ask the jade plant, looks like victory.

The Backyard Naturalist – Signs of Life in Winter

December 21, 2021 by Sarah Courchesne

Descending from fall into winter, losses seem to accumulate. You catch sight of what you think is a phoebe, tail bobbing on a fence post, and then you realize it’s just rain sluicing off the roof and repeatedly hitting a leaf, bouncing it up and down. Then you think how you can’t remember the last time you saw a phoebe, and that’s fall. Someone’s cellphone rings at work and it’s a cricket-chirping noise, and you realize you can’t remember the last time you heard a real cricket, and it’s been weeks since the one in the cellar somewhere by the woodstove went quiet, and that’s winter.

The cold months mete out a sensory deprivation. Dark, snow-muffled. Animals, especially the insects, are notable mainly for their absence. But the laws of conservation of matter cannot be disobeyed, and all those throngs and hordes of insects have to have gone somewhere. Many died, it’s true, some ending up in the bellies of those departed phoebes and warblers bound for Florida or South America. Some fell to the earth and will overwinter in the soil. Some, like the Collembola springtails, forge right through the winter, looking like an animate sprinkling of pepper on the snow, flinging themselves around at the bases of trees, even in the depths of February.

The most conspicuous evidence in winter that insects were ever on the landscape may be galls. Galls are deformations in stems and leaves that plants build around invading insects burrowing into their tissues. Galls are tumorlike, both in appearance and in physiology, with the plant tissue growing rapidly and seemingly unchecked as if it were a cancer. The insect gains protection from the thickening wall of plant matter forming around it, and can shelter within it for the duration of winter. Among the most common in my garden are the elliptical goldenrod stem galls. Each type of gall harbors its own sort of insect; for this goldenrod gall, it’s a moth. The gall begins to form when a caterpillar burrows deep inside the plant stem and takes up residence. The goldenrod responds, building around the larva layer by layer, wider at the center and tapering to the stem at both ends. Inside, the larva continues to feed until July, when, out of instinct that looks like foresight, it digs an escape hatch in the wall of the gall and then plasters it over with silk and plant matter, leaving a door for its future form to leave by. Caterpillars are eating machines, but as moths they lack the jaws for the work, and without a weakness built into the gall, they would be entombed inside.

If you read about the life history of this insect, you will encounter a curious lack of clarity over whether the larva stays inside the gall all winter and emerges as an adult in spring, or if it completes the entire process and has vacated the gall by August or September at the latest. The gall itself, if found in the winter garden, is, then, something of a Schrodinger’s box. If you slice the gall open lengthwise, you may find it empty, a silk-lined chamber abandoned by its one-time tenant. But if the larva did not manage to become a moth before winter came, it may be there still, tucked into one end of the double-pointed gall as if into the stern of a boat. You will have doomed it to death by bisecting its chamber into two neat, tiny kayaks of woody stem, but sometimes, in your craving for signs of life in the winter landscape, it will be an urge you cannot resist.

Photo top of page: ©ChrWeiss – stock.adobe.com. This photo: ©spline_x – stock.adobe.com

The Backyard Naturalist – Down in the Dark

June 4, 2021 by Sarah Courchesne

Plants and People Prepare for the Spring Emergence

Fall bulb planting and spring bulb sprouting make me think of bridges. Driving across bridges I usually think grim thoughts about what I would do if my car plunged off the side, if I had to try to remember the advice from “The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook.” It’s patently ridiculous, requiring the kind of cool no one possesses without military-style training — waiting for the car to fill with water, then taking a last deep breath in the remaining air pocket, opening the door and swimming toward the surface. This presumes, of course, that you can orient to where the surface is, in turbid water, probably at night, hypothermia setting in. I think of this at bulb-planting time for the ease with which plants do a very similar trick.

Bulbs have a right way up, and a gardener does well to attend to it. In most cases, they sit like little teapots: The broad basal plate settles flat into the little pit, and the pointy bit points up. There’s always advice online about making sure they go in right side up, but then, the advice-givers often admit, it won’t be the end of the world if you mess it up. The plant, in most cases, will figure out what’s gone on and sprout itself up and root itself down regardless. Down in the dark, in the dirt, a shoot sprouting will make a U-turn if it finds itself wrong-way down, and fiddlehead around to bolt for the light. But is it light at all that these pallid tentacles are following?

Plants have light-sensing cells to be sure, but they can also sense gravity through starch grains that settle to the bottom of specialized cells in the roots and shoots. By the pattern of that silting sediment, the plant knows which way is down. The roots will follow that signal, and the shoots will flee it. In the old Victorian papers, Charles Darwin and contemporaries reported on their experiments on the subject of plant growth. Language shifts, of course, and those writers used older meanings of words: “sensibility” means something more akin to “sensitivity.” They were interested in just how plants react to input from the environment via what Alfred Bennett referred to as “the organs of assimilation” in an 1875 review of Darwin’s book “Insectivorous Plants.” Bennett and Darwin both used the word “irritation” to refer to any stimulus. Irritation, then, did not have a negative connotation to these scientists. Gravity, water, sunlight: All were irritants capable of drawing a response.

I thought about this meaning of irritation as I was commiserating with a friend over email. She and I have both been stuck at home for a year now, constantly cohabiting with other people who are working from home. She told me she found the sound of her husband’s nightly peanut snacking almost unbearable. I told her I had asked my husband if he really needed to walk so loudly and so close to me as he passed through the room? He just stood there, blinking at me. On my meditation app, the teacher always prompts me to note any sounds around me. I find myself wondering how I could fail to note them.

My organs of assimilation are raw and frayed. Eyes closed, I can tell which child is walking through the kitchen, exactly what snacks they are sneaking. I can hear the radon fan’s ceaseless whirring, and my husband breathing louder than seems strictly necessary. Some of these are irritants in the conventional sense, but mainly, I suppose, the way the plants mean it — after a year holed up, the second spring, I’m coiled, ready to bolt for the light.

Succulents

October 9, 2020 by Susan Mitchell

Five or six years ago, if I asked the average person what a succulent plant was and where I could buy one, my question probably would have been met with shrugged shoulders.

Someone might have said: You mean a cactus or aloe plant? Perhaps the person would have mentioned jade plant as well, and indeed all of those are succulents. But in the last few years, these water-storing plants with their thick and flashy leaves have become trendy. The ushers at my nephew’s wedding this past May wore succulent boutonnieres.

With that said, I have to admit I love succulents and am thrilled with their popularity. The wide range of leaf forms, colors and shapes that succulents exhibit fascinates me endlessly, especially when several contrasting plants are grown in a container.

Succulents began gaining greater attention with the advent of xeriscaping in the Southwest a decade or so ago. As homeowners became aware of the need to cut back on the water they used on their landscapes, the demand for interesting drought-tolerant plants grew. Succulents in their myriad shapes and forms fit the bill.

Unfortunately for Merrimack Valley gardeners, most of the more unusual/interesting succulents are not winter hardy, so a fascinating outdoor garden consisting solely of succulents is not something we can aspire to.

The perennial succulents that will overwinter in our zone include sedum, sempervivum (commonly known as hens and chicks) and delosperma (ice plant). Of those, the majority are ground cover plants, not getting much more than 5 inches tall.

The sedum category does include some taller varieties, the most common being “Autumn Joy” (some people call it the broccoli plant). I have lots of it in my garden (it multiplies quickly) and enjoy watching it evolve through spring, summer, fall and often leave the tall stalks for winter interest.

The broccoli-like flower head of the plant forms in late summer and turns into pink flowers in the fall. These flowers provide a feast for honeybees, and they come from far and wide to collect nectar for their winter survival.

The fat leaves fall off the tall sedums after the first killing frost, leaving the strong stems of the 18-inch-tall plant topped by the now brown, umbrella-like flower heads. A thick clump left standing in the garden all winter becomes especially attractive as it catches the first snow.

In addition to green foliage, there are tall sedums with dark magenta-color foliage that also make for wonderful garden plants capable of surviving our winters. The best part about these sedums is the ease with which you can multiply your stock. If I want more tall sedums somewhere in my garden, I cut 3 to 4 inches off the top of several stems in late May and early June, strip the lower leaves from half the stem, and stick the cuttings in the ground where I want them to grow. Next year I’ll have a nice new patch of tall sedums in my garden.

Succulents became trendy when growers began mixing the young versions of soft succulents (those varieties that will not overwinter in our area) in containers. Search “succulent containers” online, and you can keep yourself busy for hours discovering the many ways people are using them.

Most large independent garden centers in our area carry a selection of succulents, either as individual plants you can pot up into your own container, or in pre-planted containers.

I love to plant succulents in unusual containers. I haunt secondhand stores looking for interesting wire baskets or other unusual items that I can use for planting. I line wire baskets with burlap (I’m able to get old burlap potato sacks from my local farm stand). The secret to this process is to soak the burlap in water before trying to line your basket with it. I often use multiple layers of burlap because it is “organic” and eventually will break down (rot).

Grow succulents in containers that are kept on the dry side. They will survive under-watering much better than overwatering, which leads to root rot. And they need sun to avoid becoming long and spindly, so place them in the sunniest spot in your home.

Wintergreen

January 13, 2018 by Lysa Pelletier 1 Comment

It’s that time of year to bring the green indoors and enjoy plantings in the comfort of your own home. To inspire you, we shot on location at Sage Market + Design. Whether you are decorating a cozy nook in your living room or a small table in your home, you will make it feel as though the nature you enjoy all year can be appreciated and experienced during the cold winter months. Bring the outside in with plantings, indoor trees, succulents and a variety of potted plants from Sage’s expertly curated inventory.

Set your table with small succulents and greens to complement any color scheme. Sitting around a wonderful winter tablescape will leave you and your guests cozy and warm, enjoying the food and company you have. Photo by Emily O’Brien.

Surround yourself with indoor trees and wall gardens. Grab a book, a cozy blanket from Rose & Dove Specialty Gift Shop in North Andover and pillows from Acorn Design Center in Andover — you’ll be ready to settle down until spring arrives. Photo by Emily O’Brien.

Fill a simple mantel or small shelf in your home with plants that can thrive in the winter months, so you can enjoy mother nature indoors. The simple beauty of living plants is decoration enough to give spaces in your home a fabulous look. Photo by Emily O’Brien.

Style editor and set design:
Lysa Pelletier
Anchor Artists

Photography:
Emily O’Brien
Boston, Mass.

Home furnishings, plants, home decor and shot on location at:
Sage Market + Design
Newburyport, Mass.
www.SageMarketDesign.com

Sage Market + Design features a collection of home furnishings, decor and outdoor accessories. They also provide floral design, garden design, wall gardens and terrariums to brighten short winter days.