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Posts Tagged ‘nature’

I have given up on pulling some ‘weeds’. They are just too much effort, aren’t really harming anything in my yard, have pretty flowers, and insects love them. Of course, there are a lot of weeds I still pull. And grasses. I hate grass. I’m allergic to most grass.

I digress. Weeds. The “love them or hate them” plants that plague the modern lawn and garden. Here, in no particular order, are six of the common ones in our yard.

Baby Blue Eyes

Baby Blue Eyes. Nemophilia menziesii. I love this plant! My husband hates it in the vegetable garden, but I tend to leave it in the flower beds. The flowers are pretty, it works as a ground cover, and it doesn’t interfere with any of the cultivars or native plants I tend. Oh, that’s right: Baby Blue Eyes are a native plant! Bonus points for that!

Bishop’s Weed. Aegoyodium podagraria ‘Variegatum’. I happen to like this one, too. I encourage it as a ground cover. Insects like it as well, and it isn’t all that difficult to keep in one spot. It is not a native and is considered by some gardeners to be invasive. (Also known as “Bishop’s Goatweed”.)

Blue Field Madder. Genus: Shirardea, family: Rubiaceae. I have given up trying to slow this low-growing ground cover. It has pretty flowers, doesn’t compete with my other plants, and acts as a nice ground cover. I don’t use bark dust so ground covers help to hold the moisture in. I did a little research for this post and discovered the root of this plant is sometimes used as a red dye. It is pretty small, so I wonder how much of the root one would have to dig to make a dye? It is considered “naturalized” which means that it is almost considered a native. Like foxglove and a host of other plants, attempts to control the spread have failed. I grow foxglove, too.

Changing forget-me-not. Myotis acetosella. Introduced. This is such a pretty plant! The flowers are tiny, they change from blue to yellow, and the entire plant resembles a miniature forget-me-not but doesn’t grow much taller than the neighboring lawn grass. I leave it in the front yard (which is basically a haven for weeds much to the dismay of neighbors who love a monoculture grass lawn, especially out front. Sometimes I find it in the back lawn. It seems to like to grow in the grasses.

Common nipplewort. Lapsana communis. Has tine, pretty, yellow flowers if it lives long enough top bloom. It grows around 12” tall, competes with everything, and I do not like it. Fortunately, it has a shallow root system and is easily pulled. It is also considered an invasive introduced species. I try not to give it too much leeway to expand in my yard. It does happen to be edible and useful as a herb, which makes it not all that nasty of a backyard weed.

Bugleweed. Ajuga reptans. I actually paid money for this when I first started building a flower garden in our yard. I have ripped it out numerous times. It comes back like Arnold Schwarzenegger. You could almost nickname it “The Terminator” because of how competitive it is. Nothing grows under this ground cover. It is aggressive. It fools you into thinking it is gone, eradicated, and then… Voila! There it is, again. Pretty purple flowers and foliage. I have relegated a patch to a border bed and I hope to keep it relegated there since I cannot kill it. Don’t pay money for this cultivar unless it is the only plant you want in your flower bed. Like Vinca Major or Minor, you get one single species and it covers the ground with great enthusiasm.

    And here you thought I liked all weeds. Nope. Some just have to die.

    Also: I have no idea why some plants are listed as “invasive” and some are listed as “naturalized”. Foxglove is poisonous but listed as “naturalized” and tansy ragwort is poisonous but listed as “invasive”. Both have pretty flowers and attract pollinators. I’m sure someone will comment and explain the designations to me. Both fall under “introduced” or “non-native” species. Native species of plants are merely listed as poisonous or non-poisonous.

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    We took a little break and drove down to the annual Garden Palooza event at a local nursery in the Willamette Valley. This event draws people from Portland all the way to Corvallis. We go early on Fridays and there’s still a parking lot full when we arrive, This year didn’t seem quite as crowded but it was fast filling up by the time we left.

    Prices for plants were all over the place, too. I wrote down the price of commercial bleeding hearts at the gate: $6/gallon pot. We saw 4-inch pots for as much as $14 and as low as $4. I found grand collomia starts (two to a pot) for $4, a big yellow yarrow for $12 (gallon pot), an exotic looking “epinedium youngianum” (Young’s barrenwort) also for $12. And a lot of commercial bleeding hearts in gallon pots for anything from $12 to $24! I returned and bought two of the first ones I saw at $6. Our friend found a bottle bush (he likes mine) for a decent price as well. We stopped at another nursery on our way home because the vendor at the event told my husband they sold smaller versions of a plant he fell in love with at the nursery: an Australian mint with purple flowers.

    peony bloom destroyed by insect
    peony bloom destroyed by insect

    I also asked the expert from Brother’s Tree Peonies about this damage to one of my peonies. His eyes got large and he said, “Bugs don’t like peonies!”  But then he came up with an answer: the culprit is most likely a carpenter bee who dug out the hole, decided it didn’t like peonies, and moved on to a better home. Makes perfect sense to me and it is only one peony, the “test” peony. Because bugs don’t like peonies.

    Grand Collomia in bloom, roadside flower. Native.
    Grand Collomia in bloom, roadside flower. Native.

    Now to wait out the next week of rain clouds. And to get ahead of Round One with Allergies.

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    I then went to work on my “defeat the neighbor’s lawn maintenance guy” project. This is a three-foot wide strip of lawn that abuts their property and is hidden from sight to us by virtues of an ancient garage. Per city code, the garage is set back from our property line but that three feet of set-back is still our property. The war began not because the lawn guy mows the lawn back there (we don’t really care) but because the first year he started mowing their lawn he also mowed down all my sword ferns on that side of the garage. MY ferns that I planted specifically so no one would have to mow there.

    I’m a little bit possessive of plants I work hard to put into the ground and nurture to life, even if they are sword ferns in full shade where I never water. Or look, really.

    I put out a sign on the side of the garage to PLEASE DON’T MOW THE FERNS. I decided to plant some flowers along that side of the driveway for color. The setback runs parallel to the driveway (which you can see from the house and street) down to my big yucca plant and our water meter. I don’t water there, but someone had to mow the grass there. Twenty years ago, the old woman who originally owned the property asked me to plant flowers there since we routinely forgot to mow that area. Now that I have mostly exhausted new garden beds elsewhere in the yard, why not follow up on that request and plant drought-tolerant but pretty flowers there? Day lilies immediately spring to mind.

    I did that. And lawn mower man still manages to clip my plants with his lawn mower. Not the ferns anymore, but the day lilies and the daffodils that were already present there. He runs one wheel of his mower down the strip and steps in the flowers. But the last thing he did was to dead-head MY yucca last year. What the actual…? That yucca is kind of my baby: I picked it up for free over 20 years ago and it has been so happy in that little spot, blooming up a storm every year. I usually cut the expired flower spikes down late in the summer or early in the fall, but last year?! Lawn mower man did it for me.

    Lawn mower man has been advised, but he really just doesn’t “get” it. He’s not the brightest bulb on the tree (a saying that I suppose means a Christmas tree’s string of lights). So, yes, I could just talk to him but this area needed flowers and plants anyway. Rather than confront a poor man just doing what he thinks is his job, I did mine and took care of the space like Selma asked me to so many years ago.

    Trimmed the ferns and added edging beside the garage.
    Trimmed the ferns and added edging beside the garage.
    The view to the yucca. I'll add more drought tolerant flowers.
    The view to the yucca. I’ll add more drought tolerant flowers.

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    It is raining today, a light rain that will knock the pollen out of the air, but which keeps me inside the house. This is all right with me. We just came out of a weeklong dry spell during which I was able to get a lot of yard work done but at the price of my health. My face feels like it is swollen out to the end of my nose, my eyes feel (and look) like they have been sandblasted, and my nose is dripping. Allergies have come on early and brutally this season.

    I was able to fix a leak in (under) one of my water features. This involved a trip to Lowe’s for some lawn edging and a surprise purchase of a 3×4’ plastic for under a sink. We looked at pond lining (too expensive and way too much lining for my purpose) before we found the under-the-sink lining. Honestly, if you need this stuff under your kitchen sink, you need a plumber. For my little purpose, the size and thickness were perfect, as was the very low price. (We also found the lawn edging I wanted and a bonus shelving unit for the shed we had installed last year, the shelving being on sale and reasonable priced.)

    Both water features need work, but the second one isn’t a leak: it is the rusty “fountain” I bought at a yard sale. We need to do something about the rust. But I didn’t tackle that this past week. That job will be a future blog post.

    Using a crowbar and moving a number of rocks around, I was finally able to stop the leak in the pond. The large rock forms a natural water course, but the water tends to drip under the lip and into the earth below. I tipped that rock at a slightly steeper angle, then played with the rocks and dish it drips into. The plastic lining went up under all of that (some feat considering the rock probably weighs 70+ pounds). But the result was that I managed to get the right angle and the pond now stays full. I will need to get some mosquito fish next, but I’ll fix the other pond first.

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    Water Feature

    Welp, the rains are here for the duration. I’ll still get in some gardening on the few days of sunshine and dry that intersperse the gray, depressing, and very, very, wet days. The rain isn’t what is depressing: the cloud cover and long, gray, days is. I tried those blue anti-depression lights, once. Blah. I’d rather coerce my husband into building a fire in the fire pit and bundle up in layers on those days that are dry (the clouds can still be there, but a fire, the outdoors, and wood smoke alleviate depression better than a lamp that pretends to be the sun).

    Microsoft Word doesn’t like that I refer to our winter weather as “the rains” (plural) but it is an accurate description: it isn’t one single rain but many such storms and sprinkles that come overhead throughout October to June. Rains. Multiple rain storms. With lots of thick, gray, clouds. If we’re lucky, we’ll get a snow storm tossed in there. If we’re unlucky, it will be an ice storm that comes down in the guise of rain: freezing rain. Fun times.

    Before the weather turned and the cloud pattern changed, I finished up my second water feature. It needs a little fine tuning that won’t get done until the weather begins to warm back up, but I’m still pretty proud of what I created.

    The rock that is the centerpiece came with the house. We live on top of a rocky bluff where tons (literally) of these sedimentary rocks formed when volcanoes were young and glaciers were receding. Boulders atop layers of lava rock, bluffs upon bluffs above the Willamette River, Our yard was cleared and farmed in the early 1900’s and most of the very large rocks were removed or sit buried under several feet of topsoil and clay. The corner of yard where my newest water feature is happens to be an area least developed and used as a rock and concrete dump for at least thirty years. I still find fat pieces of asphalt and broken concrete in the ground when I dig.

    The native rocks are red, like the clay that makes up most of the earth around here. We just happen to be blessed with at least a foot of good topsoil atop that clay due to the farm that was established here in the 1930’s. At least everywhere except in this particular corner where everything was dumped before we moved in.

    We removed most of the large chunks of concrete and asphalt and I started turning the area into a small garden. Don moved this big concave rock in the hopes of “someday” building a water feature in the corner. Twenty some years later, I built that water feature. I could say I got tired of waiting for him but the truth is more nuanced than that: he has his projects, the vegetable garden, a new shed, and more. I love to garden flowers, dig in the dirt, build walls, and rearranged things. It is only natural that I should take on the task of building a water feature after waiting for him to find time to do it.

    I have the time and the will; he has neither.

    I bought the round rubber animal trough at the local feed store. I ordered the solar pump. I dug the hole in the ground.

    I didn’t find a lot of rocks in the way: I found the roots from the neighbor’s tall pine tree running through the ground, none of them larger than 1.5” diameter. I cut them out knowing they wouldn’t impact the life of the tree (which is dying anyway, but slowly, and due to a beetle infestation). I leveled the ground and installed the trough, planted the yellow flag irises in tubs, and filled the crater with water.

    Oh, and sometime along the road, I made the semi-solid concrete feature that forms the second rock in the waterfall: concrete and a rhubarb leaf.

    Me, me, me. And I’m only bragging about it because I will be 69 years old in a week and I’m still playing in the dirt and digging holes. Also, the birds already love it.

    And, yes, I took a couple days off to recover after all that work.

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    I’m ashamed: I have not kept up on the blog. Well, I’m not really ashamed, but I am a tad bit regretful that I haven’t kept up. I think of things to write during the day when I am elbows deep in something, but evening comes, and all that inspiration has evaporated. Poof! Gone! Dissipated into the Nether.

    We put in a new shed, replacing the homemade one that came with the house when we moved in here over 20 years ago.

    I have been busy canning enough for the two of us: salsa, compote, conserve, chutney. Herbs have been dried or are drying for herbal teas. We foraged huckleberries and elderberries from the National Forest (those are in the freezer, awaiting a moment of inspiration).

    We also foraged some more native plants for the yard, some of which have already been planted in the ground and some which are waiting for me. They won’t have to wait long: I have been busy moving plants around and tilling new sites for more plants. I’m waiting for the next round of rain to pass through and will use the ensuing dry days to my advantage.

    I have filled the hummingbird feeders and hung them out: I took them down during the hot days of late August when honeybees get lazy and swarm the nectar. I melted and mixed up a new batch of bird suet. That came down when the weather warmed up and the starlings started coming around. The starlings are gone now, moved to parking lots. The weather is cooler and the suet won’t melt or mold now. We’ve started feeding the corvids and small songbirds again. (Corvids: California scrub jays, Steller’s jay, and crows.)

    I have cleaned up the space between our shed and the neighbor’s lawn. That’s a bit of a sore point: our garage is set back three feet as per the law, but the yard maintenance person insists on mowing our portion, including over my ferns and day lilies. ARGH. I have tried little fences, cardboard, and now I am merely tilling up the strip to plant more flowers. When we first moved in, the elderly woman who lived in that house asked me to do that so her lawn person wouldn’t have to mow that (because we aren’t the best at keeping up the lawn mowing, preferring to let our yard go “natural”). I wasn’t in a place to do it then, but I am in a place to do it now.

    Too bad that Selma died several years ago and we have had renters living next door since. Renters who did not mess with our three feet until the landlord hired this current lawn guy. I have even posted a sign on the side of the garage: DO NOT MOW OVER THE FERNS, PLEASE. He still hits them. So I am in a passive-aggressive war with him (and by extension, the landlady to the property). Yes, I could make a phone call, but it is infinitely more fun doing it this way. Don’t judge me.

    (If you’re thinking I’m afraid of confrontation, you’d be very, very wrong. Most people are afraid of confrontation with me. When I come into a confrontation, I come with both barrels loaded and a back-up cannon. The world is much safer when I resort to passive-aggressive flower planting.)

    I hacked my poor hydrangea back by at least two feet. It used to be planted under the pine tree (Nature rest its branches and rotting roots). The pine tree fell over some seven or eight years ago. The hydrangea is now in full sun, and summers have heated up the past five or six years. I have covered it with umbrellas, sheets, and tablecloths, but it still gets sunburned. The flowers fade too quickly. It has grown spindly. I could either kill it outright or prune it way back and see if it survives.

    A woman walking her dog by the house commented on it. I told her I hopes I hadn’t killed it by my merciless hacking. She said she’d watch it and if it lives, she’s hacking back her overgrown hydrangea next fall. That’s me: inspiring neighbors to bush cruelty.

    I also cut the Rose of Sharon back quite a bit, the forsythia, and the mock orange. They aren’t as noticeable a hack job as the hydrangea that was five feet tall one day and less than three feet tall the next. Turn me loose with pruners and a saw…

    I meant to do a blog on sprinklers, highlighting our eclectic collection, most of which we don’t actually use. I may still do that. It sounds like a wintertime post. Meanwhile, I am considering this post finished.

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    It is time to cut the milkweed out of my garden.

    I planted it many years ago. It never sprouted. Four years later, there was a tiny plant that looked suspiciously like a milkweed growing next to some peonies. I clipped a leaf off to see if it would ooze the sticky white sap that gives milkweed its name: it oozed. Excited, I let it grow. The milkweed plants are limited to a “triangle” between the garage and two sidewalks. I cut them down when the seed pods appear: I don’t need more plants. Also, I don’t want to wait another four years for the seeds to sprout when the plant does just fine by sending out runners from those very sturdy rhizomes.

    I was afraid the milkweed would crowd out the peonies and the asters. It doesn’t. The three plants grow together happily. What the milkweed did affect was my arum, dracunculus vulgaris, or “Dragon Lily”. The milkweed runners take up the space the lily’s bulbs are in and I’ve slowly lost many plants in that tiny garden space. There are a few left and this fall I will dig them up and move them to a better location, free of water- and space- hogging competition.

    Unfortunately, milkweed does nothing to impede the growth of grape hyacinth, I don’t think anything short of a heavy-duty herbicide affects grape hyacinth (and I refuse to go that route). Every year I pull several hundred bulbs out of the ground and compost them. (Sometimes, I will give them away to a desperate gardener who doesn’t know better than to start them in their yard. I’m pretty sure I’m digging up bulbs to send to my brother in Reno this fall. “Hey, Bro, your yard needs some early spring color. I promise you won’t hate me in ten years…”)

    Now, when the first purple grape flowers begin to bloom, I do my first – and only – weeding of the space. I cut hyacinths for a bud vase. I toss the ones that pull up with the ever-present grass. I do my best to rid the space of grape hyacinth bulbs while enjoying the aroma and color. Of course, I fail and the hyacinth prevails.

    In the Spring, I cut back the old stalks of peony and aster just as the first new stems begin to push their way skyward around the fading hyacinth. Purple stems of peonies, green stems of aster, the spotted stems of Dragon Lily rise above the fading green and brown stems of faded hyacinth. Buds form on the peonies and soon the area bursts with pink and red peonies so thick I have to tie them to stakes to keep them upright.

    The peonies fade and drop their petals just as the aster and the milkweed stalks begin to mature. The green of the aster is first to top out at 2-3’ tall. Milkweed will soon tower over the asters and all one will see will be the green stalks of milkweed.

    But before it does, at the end of May and always on our anniversary on the 7th of June, the aroma of rotten hamburger wafts in the air: the Dragon Lilies have opened. Flies and beetles rush in to await their demise in bowl of this carnivorous beauty. The smell lasts a couple days. The flowers wilt and the entire plant begins to wilt and turn yellow.

    Now it is the milkweed’s turn.

    I have two varieties: Showy milkweed (Asclepias speciosa – native to Oregon) with pink florets and California milkweed (A. Californica) with white florets. The latter isn’t a native to Oregon, and it doesn’t grow as prolifically as the Showy milkweed does, but the blooms are pretty and the aroma is the same: sweet and enticing, the polar opposite of the faded Dragon lily.

    I planted milkweed thinking I could attract migrating Monarch butterflies. I didn’t know then that this part of the lower end of the Willamette Valley is not on the migratory path for these beautiful and endangered butterflies. No worries: the value blooming milkweed has for other pollinators outweigh my misplaced intentions. Every early bee, butterfly, and tiny wasp brave the sticky edges of the flowers to get at the pollen inside. Occasionally, a honeybee will get stuck and will have to struggle free. A few plants wilt and die, host to the milkweed beetle which does exist in this half of the valley.

    Below the tall stems that now tower between four and six feet, a junco might build a ground nest. The nests are soft grass circles, now much larger than the palm of my hand. We won’t know there’s a nest there until a fledgling bird hops out of the cover while the parent birds hover nearby.

    The bloom of milkweed lasts a couple weeks giving us quite a show of pink and white, and busy pollinator insects. But then the flowers fade and the few that were pollinated will start developing seed pods. These are green and soft, and quite edible if you are not allergic (I am). When the pods ripen, they turn brown and hard then pop open to release thousands of sees hanging from wispy “umbrellas”. The wind catches the seeds and like the dandelion – well, you know the rest of the story! The ground is soon covered in tiny, milkweed parachutes looking for a home.

    But I mow down the milkweed, not simply to avoid the parachutes, but because the milkweed towers above the asters. And the asters put on a late show of color lasting through August and into September. The tall asters are a riot of magenta pink. The aster that grows in the crack in the sidewalk puts out lilac-colored flowers. The tiny bees – those mining bees and other ground dwellers – love the asters.

    The milkweed is gone now, and I wait for that last eruption of color. Too soon, the rain will come and everything will turn brown. (Photo is of a year I did not cut down the milkweed stalks and the seeds flew everywhere.)

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    The Weed Called Oregano.           

    I don’t remember when I first planted oregano in my yard. We moved here in 2002 and I started carving out the “island” in 2003, so it was probably 21 years ago?

    The “bed” of oregano has gone through some changes over the years: choked with that pesky grass, fenced off from dogs and to keep it upright, and it’s current incarnation that is 10x the original plant. I didn’t bother to rein it in this summer, but I did get rid of (most) of the pestilence grass.

    We don’t purchase dried oregano in jars. Sometimes, I cut a handful of sprigs before it blooms, hang them upside down to dry, and scrape the dry leaves into an old jar that still has the original label on it: “Oregano”. We use it fresh during the spring and summer months when we can step outside and clip what we need off the plant. By Autumn it is fading and come winter, only dead stalks remain that I cut down and compost.

    In spring, the cycle begins again.

    I find new plants growing everywhere in the yard: oregano is self-seeding. I pull it with the other weeds, savoring the aroma as I do. I could allow it to grow everywhere and some day when I am too old to do my weeding by hand, that is probably what will happen: it will grow around the peonies, the rosemary, the lavenders, and the evening primroses.

    I wouldn’t mind and the pollinators would certainly benefit from the profuse tiny purple blooms. I wonder what oregano honey tastes like? Some honeybee keeper must know: as soon as it begins to bloom, the bed is covered with honeybees and other pollinators.

    Our dogs (one at a time over the years) will stand with their noses deep in the aroma, snapping at whatever bees they see. They get stung and jump back, shaking the head furiously before wading back in to snap at another bee. Our mantra is, “Leave the bees alone <Ruger, Murphy, Harvey, Sadie>!” They leave, but they always return to the scene of the crime.

    I wonder if the bees taste like honey or like a good Italian dish spiced generously with oregano?

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    Tiny pinks on long stems. This mallow started life in out garden as a tiny free specimen. I put it in a planter and it thrived. Moved it into the ground and it nearly died. It is in a large planter, soil mixed with sand, and it is happy once again. It is a bee favorite & common on the Coast.

    stinging nettle – urtica dioica

    I hope you know what plant that is without the ID below it: run into this without enough clothes on and you’ll wish you had never met it. I crawled into it once when I was a child. Nettle stings all over my face! Fortunately, the damage is never serious and the sting can be dealt with (in my case, I probably smeared mud all over my face. I was a clever child – HA!). I started growing it for the medicinal benefits of nettle tea. It is in a pot so it doesn’t escape into the yard and I deadhead the flowers before they produce seeds: this is all the nettle I need in my yard. Harvest with care: garden gloves, long sleeves. I dry the leaves in the dehydrator instead of hanging them to dry. I’ve read you can cook the leaves as a spinach substitute (I’m not fond of cooked spinach except on pizza). The leaves lose their sting when dry. I mix the leaves with feverfew and yarrow for a green tea that I can drink without sweetener.

    Nettle may lower your blood pressure, help with blood sugar, hay fever, reduce inflammation, and help with enlarged prostate, and contains antioxidants and many vitamins. (I may write more on nettle in another post on herbs in the future.)

    Wild irises.

    I love irises! These are my wild native irises (I have “domestic” irises as well). The first two iridacea shown love moist soil and are planted in a little shady swale next to the south fence of our yard along with the camassia. I need to divide the flag iris this fall. The Douglas iris is more like its commercial counterparts: dry soil is fine. They love sunshine. The blooms are larger than the flag iris but still delicate.

    wild camas – camassia quamish

    Wild camas (which is related to asparagus) is a beloved forage plant for the Indigenous peoples of the PNW. I loves marshy areas. I have not tried eating it: I have too few of the plants to forage just yet.

    My husband brought me a gift of bear grass one year along with the deer ferns. Falso Solomon’s seal hitched a ride. My bear grass has never failed to bloom: the spikes tower above the heavy leaves. I think one of my plants is showing its age and beginning to die out, but it produced three beautiful spikes of flowers this year. And the false Solomon’s seal never disappoints, but it is gone by summer and the ground bare where it flourished in the wet of spring.

    This beautiful ground cover was also a hitch hiker. I think it came with the yew and maple (long gone now). It spreads quickly, covers the ground beautifully, and attracts every bee, bee fly, and wasp. It greens up in the Autumn, overwinters green, and blooms in the spring – and then it is gone. The ground bare.

    I have not tried too many other plants mixed in with the false Solomon’s seal to cover the bare spot in summer, but I have tried where the meadowfoam is. And meadowfoam does not like to be shaded out during the dormant stage! The bare spots in the photo are where i removed plants that shaded out the meadowfoam and it died back. However… it seems to love peonies and grows profusely around them despite the shade of summer, so I may try putting a couple peonies in there.

    vine maple – acer circinatum

    Don dug this out of a bar pit one year. he intended to make it into a Bonsai tree, but vane maple grows too quickly and he had to put it into the ground. It is as large as it is ever going to get. The leaves turn brilliant red in the autumn. The squirrels love the helicopter seeds. Very little grows under it but I am hoping some huechera (coral bells) will take off.

    narrowleaf milkweed – asclepias fascicularis

    Milkweed. I could write a blog post on this, the last of my Natives to show off. I planted it by seed: two kinds of native milkweeds, the showy (pink flowers) and a few of the narrowleaf. They didn’t grow. Well, to heck with that idea, right? I could purchase some starts but it just never seemed to happen. And four years after I tossed those seeds in the garden, I had a thick stem poking out of the ground. Suspicious, I broke a leaf off and watched as it oozed thick milky sap. Eureka! It only took four years for those seeds to grow! And grow they did: I now have to fight the plants to keep them contained in the corner of garden where I planted them: milkweed spreads by runners underground.

    Bees, flies, butterflies (but never Monarchs – so far), and milkweed beetles love the plants. Invasive as the plant is, it grows well in the little corner of yard where it is, sharing space with peonies, asters, Voodoo lilies, and grape hyacinth. The hyacinth blooms first, then the peonies, followed by the voodoo lily. The milkweed rises up and blooms, fades and dies, and the asters bloom. A perfect full summer garden of bloom.

    That is it for my native plants! My next posts will be about herbs in the garden, uses, recipes, and cautions. I’m excited for those posts!

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    Lewis’ or Oregon mock orange – philadelphus lewisii

    It has not bloomed yet, but I’ve only had it since 2023. It grows rather spindly – perhaps too much good soil and water and growing too quickly? But I found if i staked those spindly branches, they were much stronger the next year. One of my favorite wild bushes, blooms in June – July, smells amazing, and reminds me of rattlesnake draws in Eastern Oregon or Nevada where it commonly grows along a spring in the basalt.

    We discovered this growing along the roadside after a fire. It grows about 3-4′ tall. It is a native annual and we could purchase seeds (we tried seed collecting last fall, but beetles had devoured most of them!). This year, we dug one up (you can get a permit at the USFS). Hopefully, it makes it. Pic on the left is the one we dug up, pic on the right is a photo from last summer.

    Penstemmons are hard to identify without a field guide and a key, but we love them. The one on the left is one we dug up on Saturday (we dug up two, we won’t know if they are the same species or not until they bloom. There’s a fourth one in the front garden, but it is still very tiny and hasn’t bloomed. The one on the right – I am fairly certain it is the Little Flower penstemmon: the flowers are tiny. It came with a yew and Rocky Mountain maple (both dead and gone now). Penstemmons make great ground covers, especially in those dry, rocky spots.

    Note: we don’t know what killed the trees, but all the plants that came with survived. The trees thrived for about five years, the maple died off first. The yew lived a couple more years before suddenly dying on us.

    Who doesn’t love paintbrush? It is parasitic which I didn’t know (and which explains why I’ve never succeeded in growing it in the past). The plant on the right is one I just purchased from a native plant nursery, complete with instructions on how/where to plant it and what plants it might want to attach to. The second one is one we just dug up. Unfortunately, it is attached to an oxeye daisy – a native daisy, but one that is a bit of a weed. I prefer my Shasta daisies which stay in their place, but they aren’t natives, so…

    I planted the purchased paintbrush near a large leaf arnica (also a native, no photo). I will plant the new one nearby as well.

    I’ll be honest: this could be an ornamental sedge. I don’t know. Birds planted it in our yard. I made the decision not only to keep it, but to move it to a better spot. I’d be happy if I learned it was a native dense sedge as my husband thinks.

    black hawthorne – cretaegus douglasii

    Ah – the Hawthorne! Long ago we lived in a trailer park next to a large open space full of nasty Himalayan blackberries (very invasive) and a lot of native plants (including the afore-mentioned oxeye daisy). This little tree was bulldozed a couple times by our landlord and chewed on a lot by the local black tail deer population. When we purchased our house, my husband dug this up (it was about 3′ tall at the time) and planted it in the ground. I believe he was planning on making a Bonsai out of it, but it just loved its new location.

    trumpet honeysuckle – lonecera cilosa

    I bought a honeysuckle from a nursery. It is pretty. The aphids love it. But I *really* wanted a native one. Last summer, my husband and I made a foraging trip into the Cascades and found this growing there. No, I don’t have pics of the flowers (yet), but we know it is a hummingbird plant and it is what I wanted.

    But the real story is about the bear. I have only seen one in real life, and that was a grizzly in Yellowstone when I was ten (1965). I take that back: I saw a black bear once as it raced across the road in front of us in Central Oregon. I was in a car. I’ve hiked, camped, and hiked some more, and never seen a bear in the wild that I could count. Until we were digging the honeysuckle. A young black bear was making its way downhill toward us as we finished up our lunch. Not a scary thing, but we had the dog with us (unleashed – we weren’t anywhere near other people or dogs). So we quickly packed up to leave and we let the bear wander off in another direction as we secreted the dog out of the area.

    fireweed – amaenerion angustifoliam

    I have seen this for sale at garden shows. That factoid makes me laugh: fireweed is invasive. Once you have it in your yard, you will never get rid of it. I know: I planted it. And I ripped it out. It is pretty, I will grant you that. Alaska’s State flower (my daughter tells me that you can tell when winter is near because the fireweed quits blooming in Alaska). It blooms all summer. I found this survivor of the fireweed I killed nearly ten years ago (hahaha!) hiding behind the shed. And I am letting it go because it is better than English Ivy, black nightshade (Solanum americanum), and Himalayn blackberries – all of which we also have (only the nightshade is native).

    California bay – umbelluria californica

    The birds planted this. I fell in love with it. I trim it up and will allow it to grow, It is not the same as a Bay Laurel, but it smells the same and you can use the leaves the same. Pretty yellow flowers in the early spring. Easy keeper.

    This is just the beginning of a blog post I have been mulling for quite some time: what native plants do we already have in our garden? It began as a small idea but I soon discovered I have more native plants than I previously thought – and some plants I thought were native are really “naturalized” introductions (foxglove, common mullein, ground or creeping juniper). It also grew with the photos ♥

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