Other than a ‘bomb cyclone’ that hit the area last week, the weather this fall has been typical, more or less, with above average fall colors. But it’s late and most of the deciduous leaves have fallen to the ground now. Two of the great things about deciduous trees and shrubs is the shade they provide in summer and the light they let through in winter, while still breaking the wind a little and providing some protection from predators (that means you Cooper’s hawks and domestic cats) for the birds. It’s also a lot easier for humans to see perching birds without leaves getting in the way. That said, some birds tend to spend their time in evergreen conifers. I’ve photographed barred owls dozens of times on campus and they are always in conifers which are better for staying hidden from crows and jays.
Can you spot the barred owl (Strix varia) hiding out in this picture in the woods north of section D? They are adaptable owls, thriving in cities, suburbs, rural areas, deep wilderness and everywhere in between with a bit of tree cover. Unfortunately their success is putting pressure on the shrinking populations of their close relatives the spotted owls (Strix occidentalis). Pressure from barred owls is real, but so are the many decades of our clearcutting their old-growth forest homes. Unfortunately that is water over the dam. Shrunken, fragmented habitat is what spotted owls are stuck with. The US Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) has a plan to kill around 450,000 barred owls over the next 30 years (for perspective, there are roughly 3.5 million barred owls in North America so an annual cull of 15,000, grim as that may be, is not a threat to the species…just the owls that wind up on the wrong end of the guns). The USFWS is hoping that fewer barred owls will give the spotted owls some breathing room in the space where there is still suitable habitat. Whether it will work to save them from extinction is anybody’s guess. Maybe they will only remain as a ripple in the barred owl gene pool as Neanderthals are for modern humans. Where ranges overlap, spotted owls and barred owls do sometimes mate and produce fertile hybrid offspring. Let’s face it, we have passed the point of easy options. The easy options are off the table now for spotted owls and a lot of other living things and ecosystems. There are tough decisions to make in the 21st century. The planet is turning into an international triage ward. As the apex agents of destruction, we will collectively decide how diminished a natural world we can accept and endure. Woe to the species and lands and waters that don’t make the cut. Fingers crossed the Endangered Species Act and the Environmental Protection Agency survive the next four years.
On a happier note, a visitation from three greater white-fronted geese (Anser albifrons). Canada geese (Branta canadensis) can be seen on grassy areas on campus and around Seattle all year. Very rarely I’ve seen a few snow geese (Anser caerulescens) mixed in during the fall and winter months. This is the first time I’ve noticed greater white-fronted geese. Handsome yet inconspicuous birds.
To complete the faunal trifecta, another first for me. It’s always exciting to see something for the first time and I try to prepare myself each day in the garden to be ready. It’s easy to miss insects.
I think this is a fork-tailed bush katydid (Scudderia furcata), near but not in the garden. Look at its size compared to the credit card. It’s the biggest katydid I’ve seen around here. Katydids in the garden are a good thing.
Plants usually get top billing in these posts so today, it being autumn, the fungal world goes next. I didn’t find any porcini on campus but another bolete appeared again.
I’m pretty sure this is the rare Boletus orovillus again. I covered it in pine needles and left it in peace.
Shaggy mane mushroom (Coprinus comatus) viewed from above and well past its prime edible stage but what a striking pattern on top. Around this time of year they grow through the lawn north of section C.
And so do these beauties that are native to temperate and boreal regions worldwide. They are toxic but they are also psychoactive. Their use in Eurasian shamanic rituals began in the distant Pleistocene past. It’s right here on the USDA Forest Service website.
https://www.fs.usda.gov/wildflowers/ethnobotany/Mind_and_Spirit/flyagaric.shtml
Orange jelly fungus (Dacrymyces chrysospermus). Those boxes of assorted chocolates, one or two of which have the orange jelly in the middle, well this is where the jelly comes from. Oh that it were so but alas, that’s fake news. Orange jelly fungus is technically edible but supposedly on the tasteless side. It’s growing on pressure-treated wood or I would have tried some.
It didn’t quite ripen before the growing season ended but can there be any doubt that this is a pomegranate fruit growing in Seattle? We need more of these lining our streets. Their native range is about fifteen degrees further south latitude, roughly Afghanistan to northern India. It’s a wonder they do so well here but the moderating influence of the Pacific Ocean surely helps.
What does a pomegranate shrub look like in late October in Seattle? Like the two yellow shrubs in the foreground. Such a great drought-tolerant plant with beautiful red flowers and fruit whose identity will stump a surprising number of your neighbors even if they would know it if they saw it in a store.
And what about this exotic spice growing on a large shrub right in the garden.
Fruit of the Sichuan pepper shrub/hua jiao (Zanthoxylum simulans) near Okanogan Lane. When they fall off the branches and begin to decompose in the autumn rain, their earthy, citrus/eucalyptus scent permeates the air near the bus stop. The pericarps of the ripe fruit are used as a spice but also as a traditional medicine for a range of ailments.
The little sassafras tree (Sassafras albidum) in the woods north of Cascara Circle is growing more slowly than the one I long ago planted across the street in section G (now a parking lot) which had richer, moister soil and less competition from nearby trees. I’m hoping that if I cut it back it will stimulate some root suckering to form a little stand of sassafras trees. That will mean a larger rabbit fence. Rabbits and deer both browse sassafras if given the chance.
Sassafras leaves grow in different shapes: three-lobed, mitten-shaped and ovate. There you have them.
Plains prickly pear (Opuntia polyacantha) in the xeriscape bed. Notice the bite marks on the one at upper left. If that was one of the foolish rabbit kits, I think it probably learned its lesson. Even so…
…I protected it with a ring of hardware cloth, like ninety percent of what is growing in the garden.
And this. Rabbits might ignore a plant for years and then, surprise, the spirit moves one of them to try something new.
Button eryngo (Eryngium yuccifolium) in section C was heavily browsed by rabbits this fall so I had to protect it. It’s hard to know for sure what rabbits will eat. The more plants that get fenced in, the more adventurous and desperate the rabbits become.
Remember from summer the beautiful, long-lasting orange flowers of the flannel bush (Fremontodendron californicum)? Well, those flowers turned to seed capsules that look like fuzzy, golden lanterns.
The Peruvian groundcherries (Physalis peruviana) also produce a fruit that looks like a lantern but in this case it is just a thin membrane around a sweet yellow/orange berry that looks a bit like a small tomatillo (Physalis philadelphica). Peruvian groundcherries take a long time to ripen around here. If you want to grow them, find the spot in your yard that gets the most sun and plant them early.
Miquel’s wintergreen (Gaultheria miqueliana) in section C is slowing changing colors as it gets colder and darker. Its native range is from Japan and northeastern Asia to Alaska. Eventually it will produce white berries that taste similar to the red berries on our eastern North American wintergreen or teaberry (Gaultheria procumbens).
Once again, the Australian tea trees (Melaleuca alternifolia) came back from their stumps though a little less vigorously than last year. Maybe this winter will be mild and they can recover.
Over many years, I’ve grown in the medicinal herb garden three species (that I can remember…) of “down under” plants in the myrtle family, the Myrtaceae: manuka (Leptospermum scoparium), Australian tea tree (Melaleuca alternifolia) and more recently kanuka (Kunzea ericoides). Of the three, kanuka is definitely the hardiest. It seems to suffer no damage from the coldest temperatures we get here. It is an evergreen shrub and I don’t know how big it will get in Seattle but it should be sold in nurseries here if it’s not already. I haven’t been to a nursery in years.
Sweet pepperbush (Clethra alnifolia)
leaves losing their chlorophyll. Notice the process starting toward the bottom and working its way up. They’re in section E.
It reached the top of the bamboo tripod trellis and had nowhere to go but up. This is chuan guo teng (Sinofranchetia chinensis). Like its cousin mube (Stauntonia hexaphylla) it is constantly producing tendrils that grow out into pathways in all directions. Both species have edible fruit, are in the Lardizabalaceae and both are dioecious so you need a male plant to pollinate a female plant if you want fruit. Photographing a plant against a dark wintery sky with my phone resulted in this moody black and white image. But winter mornings really look like this in Seattle.
Fading leaves of chuan guo teng on a sunny morning. Can’t get enough of sunny mornings in November.
Wild yam (Dioscorea villosa) vines changing color in section F. Look at how they reach the top of the tripod and then double back, having nothing more to climb. Given a chance to run free in a border, wild yam will delicately twine its way through nearby shrubs without overdoing it. It looks good…
…like so, as it makes its way through the Japanese barberry (Berberis thunbergii) and over the tall Oregon grape (Mahonia aquifolium). This plant started as a volunteer seedling from the nearby trellised garden bed. It escaped. This feels so much better to see a vine in its natural state, climbing toward the light. The strictly bordered spaces of gardens, like zoos though much less depressing, are not my cup of tea. But I get paid to garden and it beats staring at a screen all day.
Flowering in late November, it seems like it must miss most of the pollinators. It’s too cold. But there is less competition from other flowering plants. And who knows what great variety of pollinators were once flying and crawling around in its natural home, the prairie ecosystems of old. In any case this is the Maximilian sunflower (Helianthus maximiliani).
Sand dropseed (Sporobolus cryptandrus) is a widespread native North American grass whose seeds have been used by Native Americans to make porridge and flour. The seeds are small like teff (Eragrostis tef) seeds. Teff flour is used in the traditional Ethiopian/Eritrean bread known as injera which is like a cross between a giant, spongy sourdough pancake and a fresh crumpet. It is a similarly wispy grass.
Spent seed head of angelica (Angelica archangelica) in section F.
The sugar maple (Acer saccharum) on the edge of section B produces a lot of leaves. When they fall, I rake them up and mulch the garden beds with them. Unlike chestnut leaves and oak leaves in sections D and E, they break down fairly quickly.
Bletilla (Bletilla striata) leaves getting ready to drop off and protect the soil from heavy rains.
Giant leaves of pipevine (Aristolochia macrophylla) changing color. You are missing some beautiful sights if you don’t get outside regularly to see the ever-changing fall foliage.
What is it about the colors in the autumn leaves of common greenbrier (Smilax rotundifolia)? They are thick, leathery leaves and maybe that helps diffuse the light but it is a richer, creamier color than thinner leaves produce. Young shoots and leaves, starchy roots and well-ripened berries are edible.
The canyon grape (Vitis arizonica) is growing slowly in an unirrigated border but there are more leaves and the vine grows thicker each year as it snakes its way up into the nearby chaste tree (Vitex agnus castus). One of these years it might actually produce fruit. You need to be patient in this gardening game.
Yunnan ginger lily/dian jiang hua (Hedychium yunnanense) in section F, fading away for winter. It is in the Zingiberaceae, the same family as the ginger (Zingiber officinale) you buy in the store. It grows well around here and even though it does spread a little it’s a slow clumper and easy to divide.
Opuntia pads on a sunny autumn morning in the xeriscape bed.
Cascara Circle north woods on a day in late October. Still hoping to get a bench into this peaceful opening in the woods. What a great spot.
stumbling upon them
three greater white-fronted geese
such a nice surprise
See you in the garden.