Author: lwcmartin@bellsouth.net

For years, I’ve complained that the lenten roses (Helleborus x hybridus) in my back garden are taking over. Even a few weeks ago, in this blog, I was wishing that I didn’t have quite so many hellebores since they were limiting the biodiversity in the garden. Be careful what you wish for.

I have come to the devastating conclusion that the hellebores in my back, which number in the hundreds and form the foundation of my shady gardening beds, are suffering from a virus that is called Hellebore ‘Black Death,’ officially HeNNV. There is no cure. Infected plants will die in anywhere from a few weeks up to a year and a half.

The virus was first found in the early 1990’s in England and continental Europe. It does not seem to effect H. nigra or H. argutifolius as badly, but the common H. orientalis and hybridus are killed by the virus. As of last summer, it was still considered uncommon in the U.S. but infected plants can take up to 1 1/2 years to show symptoms.

What does it look like? Black and nasty. The leaf veins turn a yellowish color that quickly turns black. New growth on older plants is stunted and dark and brittle. Though I’ve not read about this elsewhere, all the new seedlings in my yard are showing the black coloration as they emerge.

Just because I have this in my garden, doesn’t necessarily mean that you do too. There is natural die back every year, as older leaves die and new ones come in. But, if you grow hellebores, you might want to take a look. If there are big black splotches on the leaves and some of the new growth is dark and stunted, your plants might be infected.

Though the virus seems to be species specific and doesn’t spread to other kinds of plants, it is highly contagious among plantings of the same species. Scientists believe that the virus is spread by aphids or whiteflies, neither one of which has ever been much of a problem in my garden. The only thing to do is to cull the hellebores and put them into the trash, a daunting proposition in my situation.

My first inclination was to put a For Sale sign up in the front yard and move to a high rise apartment, letting someone else deal with it. But I love my garden and my home and my neighborhood and I don’t really want to move. So, I began digging.

This is my strategy: First, weed out all the seedings so they don’t have a chance to establish. Then, starting in the beds closest to the house, begin to, as one friend put it “wrastle” with the plants, digging up the dense, fibrous, interwoven root system. In their place, I’ll replace the soil and put in shade loving natives, such as Mayapple, blue phlox, bloodroot, blue eyed grass, columbine and wake robin trillium

I’m continuing to cut back infected foliage wherever I see it, just for aesthetic reasons but the virus is moving fast and it’s hard to keep up. I really hadn’t planned on spending so many gardening hours dealing with hellebores, but that’s the way it turned out.

Is it all bad? No, of course not. I’m glad it wasn’t a virus that killed more useful native plants such as my creeping blue phlox. That would be a tremendous loss! And, this does present an opportunity to replace the lenten rose with a greater variety of native pollinator plants.

There’s a lot I don’t know yet. I’m hoping as the plant dies that the roots will also die and decompose quickly. I’m praying that it truly will not spread to other species. I’m really hoping that my situation is unique and that the virus is not widespread. Time will tell.

Nature has a way of humbling even the most enthusiastic of gardeners. It’s another reminder that I’m only one small part of nature and that even though I like to think I have control over my garden, there are many things that are beyond my influence. I have faith, though, faith that my garden will recover, faith that nature heals, faith that I won’t really sell my house and move into a high-rise apartment!

After decades of gardening, I’m still surprised at the explosion of energy that sunshine causes. In spring, of course, when the skies turn from winter grey to brilliant sunny blue, plants seem to just jump out of the ground. (I’m also still amazed at how much plants want to grow!)

But putting a plant in the right environment is critical to its health and success. And, let’s define “success” here from the plant’s perspective and not the gardeners’. Success, for a plant, means being able to reproduce. Fortunately for the gardener, this can also be defined as success as bright, big blossoms almost always lead to an abundance of seeds. It can also be defined as pollinator success because sun loving flowers form the bulk of the favorite pollinator plants.

“Shade tolerant” does not necessarily mean that a particular plant will thrive and reproduce without sufficient full sun hours. The sun loving plants that I’ve put in my shady backyard, hoping that they will do well anyway, just don’t. My grandmother’s peonies languished and almost died out before I carved out a space for them in the front where sunshine renewed and reenergized them.

Unfortunately, this sun to shade ratio is having a tremendous and detrimental impact on many, many of our native plants. Many of the native ecosystems of the Southeast were sunny grassland areas kept open naturally by fires started by lightning or by herds of grazing animals. The ecosystems evolved based on these periodic disturbances and sun loving plants settled in and called it home.

But then people moved in, fragmented the open areas, stopped the natural fires and pushed the wild grazing animals into small pockets of land. Without these natural disturbances, woody shrubs and vines began to grow in the grassland areas, eventually shading out our sun loving plants. And, many of these shade producing plants, such as Chinese privet, nandina, and autumn olive are also some of the most invasive plants, meaning that they spread at alarmingly fast rates.

So the result is the same as in my garden. Without sufficient full sun hours, these plants lose vitality, are unable to bloom and set seed and are in a state of demise. The best tool we have to keep these areas open is fire, set and controlled to keep the woody plants from moving in and creating shade.

There are other ways – mowing (at the right time), hand weeding and even occasionally selective spraying are all methods used to keep a wild grassland area open. In a small space, such as in my garden, hand weeding is by far the best method. But, as a gardener, it’s my responsibility to know what my plants need and to provide for them the best environment possible – and to be realistic about my expectations. If Grandma’s peonies need sunshine, I can’t expect them to succeed in the shade.

Through supporting organizations such as Forest Watch, The Nature Conservancy and the Southeastern Environmental Law Center, who work unceasingly to protect our native plants, we can help maintain environments that support our threatened and endangered species. I do see sunny days ahead.

For Jack

I often begin my day by hand watering the garden. I’ve never had a sprinkler system. I know it would be less work but I sort of like staying in touch with my plants and giving extra water to those who need it most.

As I stood watering, Jack walks up with the ever faithful Sadie. “I bet the trees are clapping,” he said. “What a lovely thought,” I responded and then he said, “It’s from the Bible.”

I looked at him skeptically. but he looked so smug I decided he was probably right. And right he is. The passage is from Isiah 55 and reads:

You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.

What an absolutely beautiful verse and one which describes exactly how I feel these days as I walk through my garden, or on a trail or a path or a park. I don’t know that we’ve ever had a more beautiful spring.

The weather has been warm enough to bring all our spring glories into bloom but cool enough to keep things from fizzling out too quickly. My back yard is a carpet of blues – violets, phlox, Scilla, grape hyacinth, Virginia bluebells, forget me nots, pansies and thrift. With yellow accents of English primrose and green and gold, it is a wonder to behold.

Behind all that, the azaleas are in full bloom in every imaginable shade of pink. It is as if my garden is truly bursting into song before me – and all the trees are clapping.

I spend a lot of my days working on conservation issues. It can be discouraging and depressing. So, it is a balm to go out in joy and to trust that I will be led forth in peace. It is a reminder that nature heals – itself and us. While I will continue to fight for both social and environmental justice, I am so grateful to Jack for reminding me to stop and listen for the all the trees of the field to clap their hands. If I don’t listen, I won’t hear them. It was a joyful morning.

Last week I took some time off from gardening to compare notes with one of my gardening friends. Though we both basically do the same thing (grow plants), our methods are drastically different. She has 18 acres of hills and forests and open spaces in a rural area – all fenced to protect it from the deer. What a treasure! In comparison, I have about 1/3 acre, within the Atlanta city limits.

She exclaimed over and over how happy she was that after years of gardening in this space, plants had naturalized and spread so she now has great swaths of color and beauty. I suddenly realized that what was a gardening accomplishment for her (on 18 acres) was a gardening headache for me (1/3 acre). Size matters.

Plants, like people, like to live close to family. Whether plant populations increase by spreading from underground runners, such as the variegated Solomon’s seal or my beloved creeping blue phlox, or by setting and dropping seeds, such as the lenten rose, if given a good growing environment, they will spread. This means that in a small space, maintaining diversity is a constant battle. And diversity, as we all know, is critical to a healthy ecosystem.

If I didn’t keep a check on it, my entire backyard would be a mass of lenten rose fighting with snowdrops and Scilla. These are not technically invasive plants, but in a small space, they take up more than their share of room.

It’s not just the aesthetics of gardening that are at risk with overly aggressive plants, but the necessity of providing for wildlife and pollinators. My garden is an oasis for pollinators in the city. I know that many, many different kinds of pollinators visit throughout the year. Without the diversity to which they are accustomed, someone is going to go away hungry.

Of course the garden is just a small echo of what is happening throughout the wild and green spaces in our world. Size matters. We need big gardens and big parks and huge natural spaces so that our native plants can grow and spread as nature intended them to. We need corridors not just for our bears and wolves but for the native bees and insects. We need to protect every wild and wonderful place.

Even if you don’t have a BIG space, plant something! A plant in a pot is much better than no plant. And two plants in a pot are twice as good. As always, plant something useful to our native insects. If caterpillars eat the leaves of your parsley, say hallelujah! Gardening is no longer just for us. Gardening today is critical for helping to save the environment.

A call to Action

In 1973 my parents and I took a canoe / camping trip through the Okefenokee Swamp. It was a memorable trip, not the least of which was that I had my parents all to myself for two days! With four siblings, that rarely happened and I cherished this time with my energetic, smart and curious parents.

But of course it was the swamp itself that created the most long lasting memories. I can remember paddling for hours through the dark, still waters. The only sound was the calling of the birds and the soft plunk of the canoe paddles. My father and I fell into an easy rhythm, stroking the water together to propel us forward.

There were times that I was absolutely convinced that we were lost and would spend the rest of our lives gliding past cypress trees, dripping with Spanish moss, looking for water open enough to paddle through and out. We were never really lost but the swamp is such a mystical, magical place that everything feels different and nothing really looked familiar.

And, it’s big. Really, really big, covering over 700 square miles in the southeast corner of Georgia. It is the largest blackwater swamp in North America. And, it is teeming with life. There were alligators, of course, sunning themselves on muddy banks. And all kinds of birds, calling from the treetops, wading through the shallow waters.

What I didn’t realize then, was what a rich, unique and important ecosystem we were traveling through. There are over 200 kinds of birds that live in this swamp, 400 species of vertebrates, and 60 different kinds of reptiles, including the rare and endangered eastern indigo snake.

The Okefenokee Swamp is truly a treasure. What a travesty, then, that this part of our environmental heritage, is under attack for nothing more than money. A mining company from Alabama has requested – and permission is pending – for the right to create a mine within 3 miles of our swamp, a death warrant for this beautiful and vulnerable place.

Georgia Public Broadcasting reported this: Federal scientists have warned that mining near the Okefenokee’s bowl-like rim could damage the swamp’s ability to hold water. Interior Secretary Deb Haaland in 2022 declared the proposed mine poses an “unacceptable risk” to the fragile ecosystem at the Georgia-Florida line

The Environmental Protection Division states that once a wetland area is altered or destroyed it is impossible to restore.

We advocate for the swamp in the only way we know how – by writing letters to the state officials who have the power to save or destroy this incredible part of our state. Please join in the effort to save the Okefenokee Swamp. The quickest and easiest way is to go to the Okefenokee Protection Alliance website where they make it easy to make your voice heard. We have until April 9 to help save our Swamp. Let’s act today.

https://protectokefenokee.org

Looking out across the back yard, all I see is green and white. The early spring snowdrops are in their glory, blooming next to tall white narcissus. The white lenten rose, against a grey winter sky, has been blooming for several weeks.

It all made me wonder why so many of our winter and early spring flowers are white – and why there is a progression of color in nature from white in winter to pastels in spring, bright reds and yellows in summer and purples in fall. Is there a reason?

Of course and the reason for flowers, is (as always) the pollinators. Scientists say that some of the earliest pollinators are flies and that flies lack color vision. Instead, they are attracted to bright petals that are highly reflective and to flower forms that are easy to pollinate.

Blooming early in the season provides these flowers with some great benefits. First, there is little competition – the bulk of the natural world will wait for warmer weather to bloom. And secondly, these plants bloom under deciduous trees before the leaves come out, providing necessary light for their peak bloom time.

It’s interesting to think about the progression of color throughout the growing season for both our cultivated flowers and our natives. It won’t be long before pale pink appears in the natural palette with trilliums and lady’s slippers. These, too, are woodland plants taking advantage of available sunlight before the trees leaf out.

During summer, colors become more intense as temperatures rise and a whole new set of pollinators appear. Brilliant yellow, pinks, oranges, and reds dominate the landscape as sunflowers, Black-eyed Susans, butterfly weed, bee balm, summer phlox and Indian blanket grow tall and robust in the landscape.

And of course, the giant roadside flowers of fall, such as asters, Joe-pye weed and ironweed show every shade of purple, beautifully complemented by the yellow goldenrod.

There are exceptions, of course, but it’s fun to look at this natural progression and appreciate the simple beauty of the winter whites while anticipating the riot of color to come.

A few weeks ago, I had the great privilege of presenting at the Chattahoochee Nature Center at a day long conference celebrating the joys and challenges of gardening both with and for nature.

I contributed as an artist / writer / storyteller to raise awareness of the most imperiled and threatened plants that grow in Georgia. There are nineteen Georgia native plants that are threatened with extinction and I cited the reasons why, offered some suggestions for what we can do to help and encouraged the audience to maintain hope for the future of conservation. We must keep hope! There is no alternative.

My talk was followed by that of Douglas Tallamy who said (not necessarily in reference to my plea of hope, I think, but in general) that hope is great and yes, essential, but it must be followed by action.

Douglas Tallamy has authored several books about taking action for the environment and his message is always the same. By changing the way we garden and planting native plants useful to the ecosystem, we can greatly alter the dire predictions for the loss of biodiversity in our future.

Though I’ve known his work and read his books, I was struck by the simplicity and power of his message about the absolute necessity of growing native plants, not just for pollinators but for the caterpillars which feed the birds and which can greatly increase biodiversity in even a small yard.

Dr. Tallamy stresses the fact that many of the caterpillar and insect species are host specific and that is why we need to grow such a diversity of native plants. A hillside of purple coneflower is native and great but how much better it is to have a hillside where a dozen different kinds of natives grow.

E.O. Wilson, the great writer and ecologist, says that “loss of biodiversity is a greater threat to conservation than climate change.” What is so important about diversity?

Think of it like going to Baskin Robbins. If, suddenly, there were only a half dozen ice cream flavors rather than 31, it doesn’t just mean that our choices would be limited, it means that some ice-cream specific people who survived by eating a single kind (say strawberry) would starve to death if strawberry ice cream was no longer available. Then we would lose not only strawberry ice cream but all the people who were completely dependent on it. For those people, a lack of diversity is not just disappointing, it’s life threatening. In nature, for a host specific insect to lose its host plant means certain death.

So how do we help? By making our yards or flower pots or window boxes a virtual Baskin Robbins of yummy plant materials for the birds, caterpillars, insects, pollinators. (It’s not necessary to know which plants serve what species, just plant a variety and they will come.) By planting oak trees and shrubs and flowering plants that are useful to the environment rather than the ones that just look pretty. By taking action. By maintaining hope. While we may feel limited in our ability to alter climate change, we can all do something to increase biological diversity. Pledge to plant a native this spring, even if it’s in a pot.

I will continue to plant my beloved zinnias and dahlias but I hope to stuff, in every available nook and cranny a whole ice cream store full of native plants and pray the the caterpillars come and eat every single leaf. And that the birds will come and eat the caterpillars and that my yard can serve to help increase diversity at a time when it is so desperately needed.

The bird feeder in the backyard is just outside the window for easy viewing. I find it the best entertainment around, for the ready stream of winged creatures who come to visit and nibble is endlessly fascinating.

Last week, the feeder nearly toppled over when a flock of redwinged blackbirds descended. Starting in early December, these birds travel and go wherever they can to find food. In this case, my back yard.

It was pretty impressive. They emptied a large bird feeder in a single afternoon. For a short while, Jack and I kept track of an individual bird who somehow managed to fend off all the others. But then of course, he left too as more and more birds came to feed. All the other bird species just gave up and watched from nearby branches.

During winter, redwinged blackbirds fly in huge flock, often with other birds such as common blackbirds, grackles, and cowbirds. Numbering in the hundreds, these flocks fill the skies, turning and swooping together like a giant ballet. Apparently, there is no one individual bird that takes the lead, but any single bird from the flock can initiate a turn or dive, probably in response to either sighting food or a predator.

These large flocks are called murmurations. This term was originally used for the flocks of starlings in Europe which would make soft murmuring sounds as they flew. For OUR black birds, perhaps the flocks should be called “squawk” -ations because they are sooo loud.

The males are the only ones sporting the beautiful yellow and red patches on the shoulder. Females of the species are dark brown above, brown and buff striped below and not nearly as beautiful as the males. The males are polygynous and can have up to 15 female mates at one time.

This abundant and common bird is found year in Georgia, though they usually spend the summers not in urban backyards but in swamps and marshes – yet another excellent reason to protect our wetlands!

I love watching the birds, especially in winter for it is a warm reminder of how alive and vibrant the earth is, even when it’s cold and grey.

Laura

Believe it or not, the Canada goose almost became extinct in the early 20th century. There were so few mating pairs left that a concerted effort was launched to save this majestic bird. Needless to say, the efforts were hugely successful.

Today, Canada geese have proliferated to such an extent that they are considered pests in many areas – including my neighborhood. We are fortunate to live near a small pond and a series of parks – a neighborhood enticing to both people and the Canada goose.

There are several problems with the geese; they leave droppings everywhere and the droppings often contain harmful bacteria, they crowd out other more desirable water birds, and they can be very aggressive, especially during mating season. And there are just too many of them.

Even so, the Canada goose, which is native to North America, is protected by our migratory bird act. Someone just forgot to tell the geese that they need to migrate. The Georgia Department of Natural Resources says that complaints about geese top the list of calls they receive. Even though you cannot harm, kill or move the geese, DNR encourages you to hassle and haze. But really, who wants to put up strips of shiny molar or balloons or barking dogs or sound making machines or shiny fences in an area that is supposed to be natural, serene and beautiful. It’s a quandary.

It’s also a really good example of best intentions going haywire. With the increase of man-made ponds and lakes in urban areas, the highly adaptable Canada goose population has exploded and in many areas, is permanent. In our neighborhood, as in others, the problem is exacerbated by people who want to feed the geese, which not only encourages them to stay and makes them poop more, but geese that eat processed food such as bread, also contributes to potentially lethal water fowl diseases.

I am a true believer in the critical need for biodiversity and in protecting every native species. But our continued interference with nature has proven time and again to have unforeseen consequences. But, since both coyotes and geese have adapted so well to our urban neighborhood, I’m hoping that nature will take take care of the goose problem!

Several years ago, Jack and I had to have an old and diseased oak tree taken down. It was growing about a foot away from the back of the house and had it fallen in any direction it would have done serious damage to the house. Heartbroken at destroying this beautiful tree and depriving dozens of organisms their home, we opted to leave a 5 foot tall stump and have it carved into a chair.

The tree chair has been the source of a lot of joy and laughter and has provided a photo op for countless kids. But, like the tree in Shel Silverstein’s classic, The Giving Tree, this tree keeps on giving.

Some of the carvings are still intact but for the most part, the tree is in a state of fabulous, life giving decay. Covered with lichens and moss, there are wide cracks and soft holes in the back and sides. The base is definitely deteriorating and during the warmer months, I was delighted to see an endless stream of insects burrowing into the rich rotted wood. Small, perfectly round holes are proof that something – be it bird or insect – is making a home here.

I can only hope and assume that the tree is full of life, harboring hundreds of insects and microorganisms. The Xerces Society says that long horned beetles, jewel beetles and bark beetles all burrow into dead and decaying wood, creating spaces for cavity nesting insects such as mason bees and leaf cutter bees to lay their eggs. Spiders and other beetles are also attracted to the moisture of decaying wood.

Though our tree stump is both too close to the house and too short to be used by woodpeckers and owls, dead limbs of other trees, farther back into the yard must provide magnificent habitats as both the rat-a-tat-tat of the woodpeckers and the frequent hooting of the barred owl are part of the back yard music.

Two huge oak trees, probably close to 200 year old, are looking a little old and damaged but they are far from any structure and we’re just letting nature take her course. I’m sure, at some point, they will fall but will continue to serve their purpose in the ecosystem.

Nature, on her own, is not neat. Brush piles, dead flower stems, rotted tree stumps are not necessarily “beautiful” but they serve an essential role in the environment, providing food, shelter and nesting sites for countless organisms. Perhaps it’s time that we redefined “beauty” in the landscape.

I cherish the tree stump at my back door and am grateful to this tree for the many, many treasures it has offered during the years. It is truly the gift that keeps on giving.

For more information about creating and maintaining a pollinator friendly landscape, check out the Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation at

https://www.xerces.org

I hope that you and yours have a happy, happy holiday.

Laura