UW Medicinal Herb Garden Blog

Most of Seattle got the better part of a foot of snow or more in the course of a  week  and a half, starting on Super Bowl Sunday. The newspapers declared this was the biggest snow event since 1949. Seattle has many steep hills, pavement that can thaw in the day, then freeze at night (a bad combination for driving as our UW climatology guru, Cliff Mass has pointed out) and few snow plows because we rarely need them. So the city came to a near standstill. Imagine the horror. Workers and students were forced to stay home, gaze out at the glowing, pristine countryside, walk or ski or sled though a soft, dazzling, snowy wonderland, greeting their seldom-seen friends and neighbors on the street, lingering for long hours at local coffee shops and bars (at least those that were open) and city parks, carrying food home from the store in packs on their backs (like CrossFit with a purpose) or maybe joyously sledding down closed streets or neighborhood green spaces. What could be worse?

Somehow we survived. Hopefully we all had the opportunity to push free someone’s car stuck in the snow or return a lost mitten, put extra food out for the birds or let in a cold, stray cat for a few days. Though they are the bane of school administrators and production managers, extreme weather events are a blessing in disguise. The dark spell of the daily routine can chip away at our spirits. Anything that can break that spell is a reminder that we are, at our essential core, believe it or not, free, despite the fetters we make for ourselves.

But not as free as this airborne wanderer:

A Cooper’s hawk (Accipiter cooperii) showed up near Cascara Circle. The crows hadn’t arrived yet to chase it off but the alarm calls of little birds were a good tip to look up.

Section F hardware cloth rabbit screens turned into plastered walls. This was the first snow and then we got hit with a lot more.

Section C with the snow starting to accumulate. The deodar cedars (Cedrus deodara) in the background have a light dusting of snow but they eventually became overloaded as the weather warmed and the snowflakes got bigger. Some large, heavy branches broke.

Joe Pye weed (Eupatorium purpureum) as the first flakes were falling, before the heavy snow collapsed most of the flower stalks.

Behold the path north of section A shortly after the snow started and before the big limbs started falling.

The same path under the shattered limbs of the Atlas cedar. As you can see, it doesn’t take much snow to break their branches.

Three conifers, two of which seem to do fine in the snow but one of which is a disaster area unto itself and a menace to those nearby. The dark green tree to the left is a Chinese juniper (Juniperus chinensis). It sustained no damage in the snow and is, thankfully, outside the dripline of the center tree, the Atlas cedar (Cedrus atlantica) which will drop limbs at the barely whispered rumor of an approaching storm. If you must have one, plant it far from the house and the kids’ sandbox. The poor little Japanese umbrella pine (Sciadopitys verticillata) to the right and in the shadow of its giant neighbor, normally sheds snow quite easily. Unfortunately it caught a very heavy limb and sustained a bit of damage but it will be fine…

…once it makes the wish to get the giant Atlas cedar wishbone removed.

That blasted, blighted upright wreck of a tree at center is the lower half of what is left of the Atlas cedar surrounded by some of its fallen limbs.

Australian tea tree (Melaleuca alternifolia) looking a bit frazzled from the cold. The darker green shrub leaning against it is a manuka (Leptospermum scoparium). All of the manuka shrubs seem to have come through fine except for being pushed over by the weight of the snow (which has already melted in this photo…obviously). That was the fate of a lot of shrubs, many of which were blocking pathways and had to be severely pruned. The campus is well represented by several species of Viburnum which can be cut back hard, only to grow quickly to their original size. No wonder they’re so popular as landscape plants.

As the snow melts, tracks (these are raccoon) get bigger. Raccoon and rabbit tracks were all over the place during the snow days. Squirrels seemed to be hunkering down for a while but they appeared again as the snow started to consolidate and finally melt. The bad news for them was no students or staff dropping food in the trash cans for a few days but the good news was that trash pickup was also suspended.

Happy days; the snow is melting. After shoveling the stuff for a few days, as it slowly gets heavier, it is a bit of a relief to see it melting away. Hopefully it protected the less hardy plants during the coldest nights. I fear we might have dipped below 20F at least once.

This is it, the last little pile of snow on the Chemistry lawn adjacent to section C.

All of the outgoing seed orders have gone in the mailbox to distant lands around the globe. It is officially time to begin planting seeds for this summer. Soon there might be something worth writing about the plants in the garden. Look forward to some new arrivals, as always,  and be prepared for some winter weather losses. Weather…it’s always something with the weather. Accept that fact and your gardening days will be much happier.

making a snowman

the finer points of sledding

today’s school lessons

See you in the garden.

Pretty soon the days will begin growing longer again. In this Pacific Northwest winter land of soaking gray days and long nights (we’re further north than Quebec City…. though south of Paris and substantially south of London), where heavy clouds rest low on the tops of dark conifers, solstice is a welcome point in the circle of seasons.

Neither my fumbling attempts as a photographer nor my miniature camera can do western Washington winters justice, but here are some recent photos from the garden.

Rosin weed (Silphium integrifolium)

Downy sunflower (Helianthus mollis)

Bai shou wu (Cynanchum auriculatum)

Apache plume (Fallugia paradoxa)

Evening primrose (Oenothera biennis)

Wild yam (Dioscorea villosa)

Yi mu cao or Siberian motherwort (Leonurus sibericus)

Hawthorn (Crataegus sp.)

Ironweed (Vernonia fasciculata)

Sword fern (Polystychum munitum) growing through cranberry (Vaccinium macrocarpon) plants on a frosty morning in Section C. There is still some color left in winter. Look closely and you can see cranberries hidden in the foliage.

Honk if you love gray skies! Humans rarely accept the winter weather with the grace of birds. It helps to have feathers that shed water. This is one of our many resident Canada geese (Branta canadensis) strutting its stuff on campus the other day. Grass grows all winter here so the geese are well fed. They also eat all of the windfall crab apples from nearby trees, an amusing spectacle if you’re lucky enough to witness it. Along with crows, geese are one of Seattle’s natural treasures.

Well, if you can call that news, that’s the news.

cry of glaucous gulls

soaring over stormy surf

 winter on this coast

See you next year in the garden.

A couple of days ago  the morning light from the hunter’s moon, diffused and softened by the predawn fog, felt like the last call for our record-breaking dry spell. The sunny day that followed was another gift for those who love the buffered, sidelong light of the autumn sun and the increasingly colorful leaves on campus and throughout the city. When the heavy winds and rain arrive late like this, the clear, cool nights that precede them can bring out the brilliant orange of the sugar maple (Acer saccarum), the red of the oaks (Quercus spp), sourwood (Oxydendron arboreum) sumac (Rhus spp.) and highbush cranberries (Viburnum opulus) and the yellow of the birches (Betula spp.) and poplars (Populus spp.). A visiting colleague from Massachusetts said the fall colors here were better than there this year.

Today it has been warm and rainy and then sunny off and on. The winds have finally arrived to scatter the leaves, so get outside soon if you can. A walk on a blustery day in October, followed by a cup of tea is just what the doctor ordered.

Sourwood (Oxydendron arboreum) in its fall glory near Cascara Circle

What is there not to like about a pomegranate (Punica granatum)? Seattle should be covered in them. This one is near the bus stop by Stevens Way

High bush blueberry (Vaccinium corymbosum) near Cascara Circle.

A little fog in the morning followed by afternoon sunshine; that was our lucky lot in Seattle for most of October. This is early morning, west of Cascara Circle.

View to the east through section D. Those are hawthorn (Crataegus spp.) branches to the upper right. Though they have little else to recommend their thorny, suckering, fruit-dropping selves, it would be a lie to say they are not attractive in an eerie, almost sinister way, perfect for the season .

Poroporo (Solanum aviculare) update from last post: the fruit are mediocre.
They aren’t bad except for the seeds that are hard as guava seeds. Not bad but not really good…though the flowers are top notch and they grow fast.

The last of the harvest of trifoliate orange or zhi shi (Poncirus trifoliata) and black chokeberry (Aronia melanocarpa) near section D. The birds have finally figured out that chokeberries are edible. We could do worse than having our city green spaces filled with bird-sown chokeberries and wild grapes.

Forest spur flower (Plectranthus fruticosus) from South Africa, filled in nicely and grew without any pampering. Hopefully it will survive the winter. Its crushed leaves smell like grapefruit mixed with a hint of menthol. The whole plant is supposed to have antimicrobial properties.

Branches of Szechuan pepper tree (Zanthoxyllum simulans) west of section C. That leaden background is the foggy sky.

It’s normally very difficult to photograph spider webs with a little point-and-shoot digital camera. At least for me it is. So, when a thick fog settled in, I took not one…

…not two…

…but three shots, a feat perhaps never to be repeated.

The dewy, floating row cover protecting the clover from the rabbits picked up the tracks of the raccoons. Looks like they had a dance party.

Gathering figs before work one morning last month, I heard a strange trilling noise that I didn’t recognize. Pulling a branch aside revealed a young and worried looking little raccoon (Procyon lotor) staring down at me. We’d both had the same idea for a morning snack. I stepped aside to let it down and it scampered off home…wherever that is.

Barred owl (Strix varia) in the Japanese umbrella pine (Sciadopitys verticillata) north of section A. It is nearly Samhain, a pagan Celtic holiday during which the veil between the living and the dead grows thin.  A visitation from the owl, which in many cultures is or was the messenger from the netherworld, adds a little gravitas to the commercial ‘holiday’ we now refer to as Halloween. From Mexico, another holiday of pre-Christian origin and celebrated at the same time, is Dia de los Muertos,  which seems to have retained its meaning and been woven into a deeper cultural fabric than Halloween.
Listen for the alarm calls of crows and you might be lucky enough to catch a daylight glimpse of this night bird.

The east side of the Biology Greenhouse with the Life Sciences Building in the background, on a foggy day. They are both essentially finished and we hope to start moving into the greenhouse soon.

grey days of Samhain

balancing on the threshold

afoot on both sides

See you in the garden

With forest fires burning north, south, east and west of Seattle (yes, west, on the southeast corner of the Olympic Peninsula, the Maple Fire is still going) and a staggering heat wave that stayed around for the month of July and well into August just finished (we hope), it is a relief to have some cooler marine air today. Hopefully it will scour some of the smoke from our sky.

Let’s see, since the last post in May, the herons have fledged, a coyote has again been seen around campus, the rabbits have wreaked new havoc on oh, so many plants (I’m running out of hardware cloth and row covers). As soon as I protect one bed, they move on to another. And there are more rabbits all the time. The best strategy could be to permanently fence in most or all of the beds.

But the rabbits haven’t eaten all of the plants.

In section B, poroporo or kangaroo apple (Solanum aviculare) from Australia and New Zealand, is a new addition to the garden. It is filling a visual void left by the granny vine (Ipomoea tricolor) which didn’t recover from rabbit grazing in late spring. In a few months, these tender shrubs have already grown from seeds  to almost five feet and they have been flowering all summer. Their unripe fruit are toxic to humans but a source of steroids used in medicine, and the fully ripe fruit are supposed to be edible. I’ll report back after trying one, assuming they ripen.

In section C, this pepino (Solanum muricatum) is flowering, yet the plant is quite small. Fingers crossed that it produces fruit this summer.

A few feet away, the naranjilla (Solanum quitoense) looks like it wants to get bigger before flowering, more like the tamarillo (Solanum betaceum), in the same bed.

The cornelian cherries (Cornus mas) have had a prolific fruit year. This tree is on the edge of section C.

Consumer opinion polls aren’t all in yet, but it’s going to be called either opuntiagranate or pomopuntia, this cross between Opuntia cactus (Opuntia spp.) and pomegranate (Punica granatum). It’s still in the development stage but look for it on your better produce market shelves in the not-so-near future. Just kidding; someone impaled a spent pomegranate bloom on an Opuntia engelmannii spine. It looks good there.

There’s a gardening book entitled, Right Plant, Right Place. It was written and is popular because it’s quite easy to plant the right plant in the wrong place, either through ignorance or stubbornness (or even, perhaps, new conditions arising from climate change).
In this case it’s pure stubbornness. I want capers (Capparis spinosa)
to grow outside, unprotected in the Medicinal Herb Garden. And they do grow…from the base of the last year’s winter-damaged stumps. There probably is a place that would work. Maybe the xeriscape bed next year. It can’t be much worse than this spot where a woebegone specimen stands about four inches tall.

Cockscomb (Celosia cristata) plants have been untouched by rabbits, though I probably just jinxed them. Other plants in the Amaranthacea have not fared so well. Maybe it’s some sort of ancestral fear that rabbits have of roosters. Roosters are up there with clowns on my fear-inspiring index. They’ll peck the toes off your feet if given the chance.

Quite photogenic, the eastern cottontail (Sylvilagus floridanus) always looks good as filler in the fauna section. They’re so trusting these days, since I stopped throwing my pruners at them, that it’s easy to get close.

Practically hopped up and asked for a scratch on the ears. Doh! You nibbling little varmint.

Raccoons in relentless pursuit of the perfect place to nap. The crows weren’t happy but they got bored after a while.

The rabbit-exclusion screens create interesting shadows in the morning light.

Shadows of Chinese angelica (Angelica sinensis), a plant label sign and an irrigation spout in section A

Once again, a couple of heron fledglings (Ardea herodias) wound up on the ground, one injured and the other just stuck. The injured bird was rescued but the healthy one saw an opportunity…

and made its way through some bushes…

up a nearby pine tree to a point where it could gain enough loft to get back to the nest. All this while one of the parents made regular flights low over the area, obviously looking for its lost offspring. The extreme effort to gain some height and get back to the nest is not something I’ve seen before. Usually a fledgling on the ground is a dead bird walking unless it is rescued.

Black and yellow mud dauber wasp (Sceliphron caementarium) gathering mud near section D. They are very tolerant of camera lenses though they seem to prefer being left alone. When I got too close, this one flattened itself against the ground and stared at me, waiting for me to leave I’m sure. So I left.

Katydids, possibly the drumming katydid here (Meconema thalassinum) aren’t abundant in Seattle so it’s kind of thrilling to see one now and then. This species, if I’ve correctly identified it, is from Europe and has made its way here by some mysterious channel. I’ve seen two this year.

Western tiger swallowtail (Papilio rutulus). So far, the Lorquin’s admirals (Limenitis lorquinii) have either been absent or I’ve missed them in the garden. But the swallowtails showed up on schedule.

Well, they’re not loved by most humans, but bald faced hornets (Dolichovespula maculata) are surprisingly docile when they’re not protecting their nest, especially when they’re sipping flower nectar. Alas, this unfortunate colony built its nest just above head height in section F. I lobbied for their right to exist but the risk was too great so they were exterminated. We’ve faced the same dilemma at the Beacon Food Forest. and the hornets and wasps usually lose if human safety is at risk. It’s hard to argue with that logic in densely populated urban spaces.

Bumblebee, possibly the yellow-faced bumblebee (Bombus vosnesenskii) on the great blue lobelia (Lobelia siphilitica) in section B.    For anyone who hasn’t read The Insect World of J. Henri Fabre, you should if you are interested in insects and natural history and close observation and, above all, the lost art of patience. This wonderful work is edited  by Edwin Way Teale, one of the truly great natural history writers of the 20th century.

glowing emerald

 through billow of smokey haze

 katydid lantern

See you in the garden.

Though we are not officially offering Medicinal Herb Garden tours until the Life Sciences Building and Biology Greenhouse are completed, I couldn’t resist the request to lead a Harry Potter tour for a class from the UW Department of English. It was as if a spell had been cast upon me. Alas, not having read any of the Harry Potter series, I had to do a little research. I quickly learned that some of the plants represented in the books are products of J.K. Rowling’s imagination. I have a greenish thumb, but growing imaginary plants is beyond my level of skill. Luckily, a small portion of the Potter flora is already growing in the garden.

The mandrake (Mandragora officinarum) bed which was plundered last spring, still had one plant left. It was scraggly and in need of a long period of recuperation so I dug it up and moved it to an undisclosed location after showing it to the class. But first I took its picture.

Mandrake root. Of course, I had to wear ear protection while unearthing this root.

Next on the list was asphodel (Asphodelus albus).

Most flower lovers would probably agree that asphodel is an attractive plant when it is flowering. But its powdered root combined with…

…wormwood or absinthe (Artemisia absinthium) becomes The Draught of Living Death…in Harry Potter books anyway.

There are probably other Harry Potter plants in the Medicinal Herb Garden, but we stopped at aconite or wolf’s bane or monk’s hood, a potent plant that should not be trifled with by amateurs.

Aconite  (Aconitum napellus in this photo, though there are about 100 species throughout the world’s northern temperate zones).

I took a group photo of the Harry Potter class but when I went to transfer it to this blog’s media file it had mysteriously disappeared, as if by magic…

The rabbits are doing fine, grazing the greenery of the entire campus, so I don’t feel too bad about making them unwelcome guests at the Medicinal Herb Garden. This year I’ve been experimenting with dusting cayenne pepper on plants and it seems to be working, but physical barriers like hardware cloth are still needed in places, though I might tempt fate and stick with cayenne as the only deterrent. If someone has a source for really cheap cayenne in bulk, the hotter the better, please let me know.

Free range rabbit in Cascara Circle. I passed seven rabbits while crossing campus the other morning. They have a pretty good life here as far as I can tell.

Moving the yellow gentian (Gentiana lutea) to a new bed appears to have been a good idea. It’s flowering for the first time in years.

Lingonberry (Vaccinium vitis-idaea) in section A is slowly starting to produce some flowers and fruit. It makes a good ground cover and so far, the rabbits have shown no interest. In general, they seem to have a fondness for Vaccinium.

Manuka (Leptospermum scoparium) shrubs in sections A and B are covered in flowers. That should add an extra flavor to the honey of nearby hives.

False unicorn root or fairywand (Chamaelirium luteum) has found the right place to thrive in section F. Sometimes you have to move a plant to several locations to find the place where it will do well, or plant several specimens in different locations. Whatever works.

Giant honey flower (Melianthus major) from South Africa. It looks like it came directly out of the Harry Potter flora. They’re a bit iffy in really cold winters but they are  striking plants, especially when they get bigger. We’ll have to see how this one does.

You snooze, you lose. That’s the story with redbud flower viewing. This happened back in April, next to Okanagan Lane where there is a western redbud (Cercis occidentalis). An eastern redbud (Cercis canadensis) is right next to the big paper birch (Betula papyrifera), forty feet to the southwest…

…right here.

Narrow leaved mule’s ears (Wyethia angustifolia) emerging through the Mexican cliffrose (Cowania mexicana) in section C. The cliffrose has been doing better the last couple years since I stopped irrigating that bed.

The nearby hawthorns (Crataegus douglasii) have sent up root suckers into the same bed, about a foot away. In fact they’ve suckered into many beds in sections C and D. I had to move the Chinese snake gourd or gua lou because of competition from the hawthorns.

New growth on the cactus apple (Opuntia engelmannii) in the xeriscape bed.

They aren’t ravens (Corvus corax) but crows (Corvus brachyrhynchos) have a magic all their own. Unfortunately they didn’t pay us a visit on our Harry Potter tour. Here they are hunting for things to eat. A crittercam attached to a crow: I’d pay to see that movie.

Columbia lewisia (Lewisia columbiana) flowers aren’t the most showy of the genus, but they are dependable and they last a long time. See them in the xeriscape bed.

Hmmm. The good news is the rabbit (s) found a safe place to hide out and eat in peace. The bad news is s/he, they ate a quarter of the hedge woundwort (Stachys sylvatica). It is a tough and prolific plant and I believe it will bounce back. Anything for the rabbits.

Last year the bushtits (Psaltriparus minimus) built their nest in this tripod, surrounded by vines and still visible at the bottom of the photo. It was successful so…

…they built a new nest above it this year. May the last of the fledglings fly away before the first crow knows they’re there.

Goumi (Elaeagnus multiflora) west of Cascara. It produces edible fruit, has fragrant flowers and few pests or diseases, becomes fairly drought tolerant once established, fixes nitrogen and can handle full sun or part shade.

Pacific crabapple (Malus fusca) flowers northwest of Cascara Circle.

The crossvine (Bignonia capreolata) has finally flowered. It’s in section E.

Life Sciences Building with the new Biology Greenhouse in front.
If all goes as planned we will be moving plants in this summer.

We haven’t had much rain lately but the the air has cooled, taking the pressure off delicate seedlings. There are still new plants to go out in the garden but the beds are mostly filled. Section E, with its deep shade and tree roots in the beds is the challenge this year. Look for some rearrangement, additions and subtractions next spring or sooner.

flash of a crow’s wing

moonlight on wolf’s bane flowers

summer garden spell

See you in the garden.

Not much to report this winter. After a long stretch of mild weather, we’re near the end of a cold spell, with clear skies and nighttime temperatures in the mid 20s F. I’ve chosen not to cover any garden plants with tarps. A little colder and some of them would need it, but they should come through with minor damage to the branch tips on the olives (Olea europaea) and maybe some withered foliage on the Australian tea trees (Melaleuca alternifolia). Hopefully. Time will tell. The longer the cold spell, the greater the damage.

Fraser Valley in British Columbia usually gets mentioned by weather forecasters when one of these cold fronts blows down from the arctic regions. Sometimes, when conditions are just right, the arctic air from further north in Canada comes roaring through the Fraser Valley and stalls over the Puget Sound region for a few days or weeks. Very rarely it gets into the teens, and when it does, that is bad news. Plants that seem to have made it safely to young adulthood can die or at least die back to the roots. The Medicinal Herb Garden lost two mature (as in five feet tall and five feet wide) yerba mate bushes (Ilex paraguariensis) at the same time several young olive trees were killed to the roots (they’ve since grown back) more than a decade ago. Summers are getting warmer but our latitude works against us in winter. Yes, the buffering effects of the Puget Sound and the Pacific Ocean currents protect us from the colder interior air…most of the time, until a cold spell pushes its way down from the north. To varying degrees, it happens pretty much every winter.  At least the days have been sunny…

…and sometimes snowy. We got our second snow of the season Wednesday night, just enough to cover the ground but not enough to shut down our steeply hilly city. That’s a Sichuan pepper tree (Zanthoxylum simulans) next to section C.

New snow is the garden’s best guest register. No sign of coyote or deer prints but the raccoons (Procyon lotor) and rabbits (Sylvilagus floridanus)  left their signature tracks in the wee hours of the morning.

Raccoons pulled most of the trash out of the trash can by the bus stop yesterday. No surprise there; they must be extra hungry in this cold weather. If we had sharper eyes (and fewer smart phones) we would see their tracks more often, not just on snowy days.

For anyone lucky enough to grow up around snow, following animal tracks in winter is one the truly great adventures of childhood. Rabbits are easy because they don’t go too far from home.

The giant sequoia (Sequoiadendron giganteum) was dusted with snow this morning. There appears to be some dead foliage near the top. Be well big tree.

Jack pine (Pinus banksiana) of northern North America looking right at home with a little snow. The seed that grew into this sapling tree came from Niagara Parks Botanical Garden in Niagara Falls, Canada. Jack pine seeds are edible, the sap was used as medicine and caulk, and roots were used as cordage by Native Americans. If you’re a birder, you know that Kirtland’s warblers (Setophaga kirtlandii) are also known as jack pine warblers because they depend on dense, pure stands of young jack pines for breeding. The twisting tale of the pines and the warblers and the retreating ice sheets and buffalo herds and brown-headed cow birds, near-extinction, human intervention at it best , with help from the Canadians, the US Forest Service and other government agencies and volunteers, and on and on, is so interesting and beautiful and hopeful that one would have to be actively opposed to the magical study of natural history to resist the spell of this nail-biter saga.

Finally, a shot of the new Biology Greenhouse in front of and attached to the Life Sciences Building, both obviously works in progress. Sometime this summer the greenhouse will be full of plants. That will bring joy to the hearts of many.

The spent flower stalk of this sacahuista (Nolina microcarpa) continues in its photogenic ways on this snowy morning. Sacahuista was traditionally used by Native Americans of the southwestern US and northern Mexico as food, fiber, dye and medicine.

My efforts this winter have been dedicated to finding and ordering seeds and starting a lot of new plants. The rabbits are an emerging challenge. The greater the variety of plants, the better. Surrounding all of the plants with hardware cloth seems a bit excessive, so finding good medicinal plants that the rabbits don’t like to eat should help. And the only way to find out if the rabbits will or won’t eat them is to plant them in the garden and see what happens. The gardeners of Seattle have much to learn about our rapidly spreading rabbits.

This past summer, the greenhouse thrips (Heliothrips haemorrhoidalis) once again caused noticeable damage to certain plants in the Medicinal Herb Garden, specifically, the various  rhododendrons (Rhododenron spp.) and the salal (Gaultheria shallon), both in the Ericaceae, the plant family that includes blueberries, cranberries, heaths, madronas and many other fine plants. A cold spell like this is a good thing for eliminating some of the plant pests, like greenhouse thrips, that are only marginally hardy around here. That said, with light snow falling, weather reports indicate that snow will soon turn to rain and nighttime temperatures will again remain above 32F; in short, we’re back to typical winter weather. That’s the news.

crunch of frosty ground

breath like smoke as clouds approach

cold spell nearly done

See you in the garden.

In the Medicinal Herb Garden, this was the Year of the Rabbit.  There is no rabbit fence on the perimeter to keep them out, so visitors can expect to see  hardware cloth covering or  surrounding certain plants. It’s not a permanent solution but a necessary one for now. Rabbits, like any living thing, will eat their preferred foods first. If those foods aren’t available, they move on to something else that is. In winter, with less herbaceous growth to consume, they’re forced to eat more woody matter. There’s a lot of energy invested in living wood, so a little damage goes a long way. These wild rabbits seem quite open to trying new plants, a bite here and a bite there, and that’s probably why they do so well. As soon as I enclose one species of shrub they move on to something else.

Don’t try this at home. Felco pruners are great for their intended use of pruning plants. That said, they do a pretty good job cutting hardware cloth.

Gaultheria procumbens (wintergreen or teaberry) was untouched all summer but was being grazed in November. Maybe this and  Vaccinium corymbosum (tall bush blueberry),  Opuntia humifusa (eastern prickly pear) and Aronia melanocarpa (black chokeberry), all eastern North American natives, are comfort foods for these rabbits that are native to the eastern side of the continent. Maybe, but they also eat Asian, African, European and South American plants. Their gusto is admirable.

Fresh nopal. The eastern prickly pear has few spines, making it easy for the rabbits to eat.

They haven’t tried getting under the hardware cloth yet. It’s not pretty but it’s working.

They left the prickly pear seeds behind. Good rabbits.

Testing some tulle fabric that came my way. It’s a lot easier than cutting and staking hardware cloth. It seems to be protecting the Ephedra chilensis (Andean jointfir, pingo pingo).

This ephedra plant lost about two thirds of its biomass before I discovered the damage. Must be tasty and nutritious, though there’s little or no ephedrine to speak of in this New World species, so they’re unlikely to turn into energizer bunnies.

Expect more of these enclosures in the garden.

Get used to the new look.

Patch job to save the Crocus sativus (Saffron crocus), the only member of the Iridaceae that has so far been impacted by rabbits. The legumes, however, were decimated. The Fabaceae could be on their way out or require permanent protection.

The alleged perpetrator, or one of them, caught on the trail camera set up to photograph the coyote. What interest this herbivore would have in a can of rotting tuna, the scent lure, only s/he knows, unless… it’s the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog.

Love them or hate them, rabbits can now be viewed from the sitting position on our beautiful, brand new memorial bench in section C. It had just been set in concrete when this photo was taken.

This is not a Christmas tree ornament that has seen better days, it is a ripe fruit from the North American native, Passiflora incarnata (maypop) vine. It was a bumper year for the fruit which contain edible pulp and seeds (crunch them with your teeth as you would Concord grape seeds).

The insides of several fruit, ready to ferment for a while, then have the seeds extracted from the soft, sweet, fragrant arils. Seeds will be distributed through the Index Seminum international seed exchange program in which we participate. Many of the obscure plants in the Medicinal Herb Garden come from seeds acquired through this excellent mutual aid coalition.

There’s been a lot of talk of UFOs in the news lately. As the fog burned off one cold morning, through the filtered sunlight in section A, it looked like the mothership was about to land on the garden shed. Maybe it did. Maybe it dropped off more rabbits or took a few back with it.

That’s the last of the news for 2017. Happy solstice.

eating at twilight

and at midday and at night

eastern cottontail

See you in the garden.

The fall colors have been the best I’ve seen in over thirty years living in Seattle.

The sugar maple (Acer saccharum), whose shadow is the bane of the nearby olive trees’ (Olea europaea) existence, has nearly redeemed itself this year.

If something has to block the light, it might as well be this sugar maple.

For the first time, the vine maple (Acer circinatum) in Cascara Circle turned red.

The dependably colorful staghorn sumac (Rhus typhina) is dependable still. The yellow shrub behind it is western sweetshrub (Calycanthus occidentalis).

Morning light on the oak (Quercus sp.) west of Cascara Circle. Morning light is one of the great things in life.

That same morning light on the paper birch (Betula papyrifera) north of Cascara Circle.

Blueberry (Vaccinium sp.) foliage in border area.

The California wild grapes (Vitis californica) finally ripened up:

Looking good, but…

…a few days later, this was all that was left. Some of the clusters were 12 feet off the ground and every grape was gone. Weird. Someone suggested an opossum (Didelphis virginiana). Maybe. If a human had gathered them, they would have picked whole clusters, not individual grapes, and needed an orchard ladder. I’ve seen starlings (Sturnus vulgaris) remove most of the fruit off a fig tree in a day so maybe starlings. Hmm. Another garden mystery.

I picked a big bunch of grapes before they disappeared. No, that’s not the early stage of wine making, just fermentation to help prepare the seeds for faster germination.

The mature fruit of the Chilean myrtle (Luma apiculata) are not worth the trouble, in my opinion. They can’t compare to the Chilean guava (Ugni molinae) and aren’t much better than the common myrtle fruit (Myrtus communis).

The Chilean guavas are so good that the rabbits were gnawing off the branches to get the fruit. Grrr…

Extreme measures saved the day. It will be a very strange herb garden if everything the rabbits like to eat must be protected with hardware cloth.

The coyote (Canis latrans) appears to have moved on for now. Either that or s/he has lost interest in the lure. Here are the last photos (for now).

Infrared activated at 10:24 am. Seems like there would have been enough light for a color shot by then.

Another infrared shot, a minute later.

This one, taken within ten seconds, is in color. Go figure. This trail camera is rugged but it’s not exactly known for image quality. It’s possible the light changed slightly or the light meter just isn’t very good. Moultrie actually makes excellent cameras, many more expensive models with extra features, but, assuming this one might be stolen or destroyed, I aimed for an inexpensive model. It’s fine for identification, my main concern.

And good enough to show what raccoons (Procyon lotor) are up to when we’re not around. At night they stand on their hind legs and discuss strategy.

That’s what passes for the news around here.

at ease around us

furry and adaptable

some call them critters

See you in the garden.

After numerous reports of coyote sightings near the Medicinal Herb Garden, the time finally came to set up a camera in adjacent woods and hope the scent of several brands of dog food and dog treats made of lamb, beef, pork and salmon and far too many cereal fillers, would be enough to entice him or her close to be photographed. It was.

Testing…ok, camera works. Good.

Seems like s/he sees the slight glow of the infrared lights.

The lure is wrapped securely in hardware cloth and staked to the ground, so there’s no reward. It’s just another stop on the evening rounds.

So close and yet so far; it’s time to move on and find a real meal. So long, bright eyes.

The previous week, a can of tuna, punctured downward and nailed to the ground, was enough to warrant a closer look.

…and a little marking of the territory.

From early this morning, a pretty good profile shot. S/he seems to be getting comfortable with the camera site and the scent of humans is everywhere so that’s probably not a problem. In the wilderness it might be more difficult.

Along with several shots of a rabbit, a rat and several raccoons, another photo of a mysterious, unknown member of the weasel family, the Mustelidae, turned out to be a squirrel’s tail sticking upright through the ivy. Sorry, that photo was…accidentally deleted. Thank you to Jeff Bradley, mammalogist at the Burke Museum, for tactfully pointing out the obvious. To be honest, the mystery mustelid looked more like a sock puppet version of a mink (or maybe a marmot or a gopher), but the Nessie/Sasquatch/UFO effect of a black and white, grainy image on the imagination of an eager, hopeful viewer is powerful. Still, this early in the wildlife monitoring effort, it’s reasonable to maintain that absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. Hope dies last.

In plant news, the medlars (Mespilus germanica) are fruiting prolifically as they do every year. Why can’t all fruit trees be like that?

Good old medlars.

California wild grapes (Vitis californica) are abundant this year and they’re now ripe. May the birds spread their seeds to every weedy green space in Seattle. I’d rather have these vines than ivy or clematis growing into the tree canopy.

The fruit of the Chilean myrtle (Luma apiculata) are developing. Hopefully they can ripen in the cooler weather that’s approaching.

It looked like honey bees on the mao ye xiang cha cai (Isodon japonicus) but closer inspection revealed them to be hoverflies or drone flies (Eristalis tenax or something closely related). It’s absolutely maddening trying to get a focused picture of one. They barely land and they’re off again.

All show, no go. It’s a pretty convincing abdomen but there’s no stinger.

Trifoliate orange (Poncirus trifoliata) ripened some fruit this year but also flowered  a second time after I gave it more water in midsummer. It produced another modest crop, all of which are still small and green.

Life Sciences Building will have all of its windows in soon. That should make the days a little better for the people working inside. It must be a bit of a wind tunnel in there on blustery autumn days.

Despite repeated grazing by rabbits, this royal catchfly (Silene regia) has managed to flower for the first time. Section F has been gnawed to nubbins by rabbits this year so it’s good to see something make it through.

Behold the progression toward maturity of some African horned cucumbers (Cucumis metuliferus) culled from the vines I tore down to plant crimson clover as a winter cover crop. The fruit furthest to the right is still not ripe, but, as you can see, the largest one has more smooth surface area and less that is horned. Fully ripened, they turn orange. But time ran out for these cukes.

It’s shaping up to be a good year for fall color. The cooler nights this week will help. If the heavy winds hold off until November, it could be quite a show. Do yourself a huge favor and get out and enjoy it while it lasts.

coyote trotting

at an easy pace all night

working the edges

See you in the garden.

We finally got some rain and cooler temperatures after setting a new Seattle record of 56 days without rain. And many of those days were really hot. This summer there are a lot of stressed plants in Seattle.

The barred owl is back and a coyote has been seen recently in the Medicinal Herb Garden.

Barred owl (Strix varia) looking backward from a tree, west of section F…

…and looking forward. Owls can turn their heads up to 270 degrees left or right without injuring themselves. Their eye sockets are fixed, so by turning their heads, they are functionally doing what we do by turning our eyeballs in the direction we want to see. Human heads can turn up to 90 degrees left or right without injuring ourselves. No pictures yet of the coyote but I have my trail camera deployed on campus.

Though we were a bit north of the totality path of the recent eclipse, there were some unusual shadows to see, for those of us without eclipse glasses. Wandering through section E, waiting for something to happen, it finally did.

Looking up you could see an eclipse (so I hear), but looking down at the light filtered through the trees, you could see many eclipses. While taking these photographs, the garden visitors I met all seemed spellbound by these specters.

At the peak stage of the eclipse, it looked like the light on a clear day when the dark clouds of a storm are moving in, but instead of anvil-shaped cumulus clouds blocking the sun, it was the moon. Strange sensation, a brilliant contrast of shadow and light…

…that slowly faded away

Some new flowers have made their appearance this summer.

Luma apiculata (arrayán or Chilean myrtle) northwest of Cascara Circle. It’s flowering so hopefully we’ll get some fruit this fall.

Myrtus communis (common myrtle) in section C border has been around the garden for years, but notice the similarity to the flowers of the Luma apiculata. They’re in the same family, the Myrtaceae.

Metaplexis japonica (rough potato) is flowering for the first time. While photographing the flowers I made a mental note to track down the intoxicating scent from some nearby plant.

Drawing close to take this picture of the Dolichovespula maculata (bald-faced hornet), I realized the scent is from the Metaplexis flowers. They’re in section B near the…

…Aralia cordata (udo) that also attracted the bald-faced hornets. I’ve seen more of these hornets than honey bees on the garden flowers in late summer. As long as you don’t bump into their nest (I can report from experience that’s a bad idea) they seem oblivious to people, especially when they’re feeding.

Argyreia nervosa (elephant creeper) tendrils  seem to be doing some sort of interpretive dance in section A.

But what does it mean?

Stinkvine (Paederia foetida) in section B. The crushed stems and foliage give off a scent reminiscent of sour milk, enough to stimulate the gag reflex in some people.  It has many uses in Ayurvedic medicine.

Rhynchosia volubilis (lu huo) in the same bed. It’s flowering now and that might be too late to produce beans. Maybe next year.

Pollichia campestris (barley sugar bush) section A. Though they’re quite small, those white, fleshy bracts surrounding the flowers make for a sweet treat.

Grape flowers aren’t much to look at but the fruit are.

Vitis californica (California wild grape) north of Cascara Circle. Getting up into the canopy has improved their fruit production.

Immature fruit of Cucumis metuliferus (African horned cucumber) will get smoother and turn yellowish-orange with jelly-like flesh. Sometimes a few of them ripen around here.

Liriope platyphylla (wide-leaf monkey grass) isn’t a grass but a member of the Asparagaceae. Rabbits are eating it. Along with its close relatives, it is considered an ornamental plant (when it flowers) but it has traditional medicinal uses in eastern Asia.

This nest, hidden among vines on a bamboo tripod, escaped notice until after the birds had left. It was built by Psaltriparus minimus (bushtits).

Opuntia humifusa ssp. mickeymousensis (Mickey Mouse prickly pear) is an endemic from a small area southwest of Orlando, Florida. It’s finally starting to exhibit its characteristic form.

Atractylodes macrocephala (bai zhu), used in traditional Chinese medicine for all sorts of abdominal conditions, among other things, is an attractive garden plant, until…

…a rabbit decides that one bite is not enough.

Colchicum autumnale (autumn crocus or meadow saffron) in the border of section D. Colchicine, which is contained in the plant, has been used for thousands of years and is still used to treat gout. Autumn crocus is often confused with Crocus sativus (saffron crocus) but they are actually in different families. The former is in the Colchicaceae and the latter is in the Iridaceae.

This is the color of autumn. The equinox is here. Rains have cleared the forest fire smoke and the fresh, cool air is invigorating. Get out and enjoy it if you can.

longest summer drought

river birch dropped half its leaves

then the rains returned

See you in the garden.