![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Springwatch: April 25
May. 20th, 2013 11:41 amApril 25: The mayapple, which started blossoming in some places three weeks ago, has begun growing fruits.
( Close up )
( Close up )
For me, when the mimosas are blooming and there are ripe blackberries in the brambles, Summer has unquestionably arrived. And here we are. I picked another handful of blackberries this morning. I think the ones I had last week were some escaped, recently domestic blackberries, but these were definitely wild -- tiny but very sweet, as sweet as the scent hanging in the mimosas around the corner.
Berry spring
May. 2nd, 2012 11:14 pmToday I picked and ate two ripe blackberries. I could have had a whole cup of them, but I thought a couple were enough for the second day of May! Delicious.
Green cherries
Apr. 16th, 2012 10:22 pmI have so many things I've missed posting, this spring! It's gotten to the point that when I think of something, it makes me think of all the other things I need to catch up on, which has a paralyzing effect. So I've decided to start clean and catch up slowly, when I can. :)
Today: the black cherry fruits are really forming! It can't have been more than two weeks ago I was taking pictures of the sprays of blossoms.
Today: the black cherry fruits are really forming! It can't have been more than two weeks ago I was taking pictures of the sprays of blossoms.
The Case of the Missing Apples
Oct. 13th, 2011 11:08 pmAccording to a meteorologist or climatologist on the local radio news recently, "It looks like the drought will continue through the winter months and into next year." Not good news for the trees that were stressed by this summer. Sometimes with trees, it takes a couple of years to tell if they're going to survive.
Two weeks ago when I was at the farm, I went out to the apple tree hoping to find enough good apples for a couple of pies. I'd checked at the end of August, and there were a lot of apples but they weren't really ripe enough yet. A few weeks later they still seemed like they could use a little more time, and besides, there weren't any on the ground. The way I've always been able to tell they're good and ripe is when they start falling off the tree on their own. If we don't keep up with the tree and pick them by the bucket (and we usually can't get all of them), we end up with a fermenting, cidery slick of apples on the ground, with wasps and beetles having a feast. It's been that way every summer/fall, as long as I can remember.
But this last time when I went to check, there weren't any at all. I asked my dad about it — maybe he had let someone pick them? — but he had no clue. Not a single apple left on the tree nor a trace of one on the ground. We talked about it, and our theory is that the deer must have come for them. They've got so little to eat in the woods, and it's hard for them to find water as well, so they're approaching civilization and trying foods they usually don't bother.
We agreed that if the deer are that hard up, we don't mind that they took the apples this year.
Two weeks ago when I was at the farm, I went out to the apple tree hoping to find enough good apples for a couple of pies. I'd checked at the end of August, and there were a lot of apples but they weren't really ripe enough yet. A few weeks later they still seemed like they could use a little more time, and besides, there weren't any on the ground. The way I've always been able to tell they're good and ripe is when they start falling off the tree on their own. If we don't keep up with the tree and pick them by the bucket (and we usually can't get all of them), we end up with a fermenting, cidery slick of apples on the ground, with wasps and beetles having a feast. It's been that way every summer/fall, as long as I can remember.
But this last time when I went to check, there weren't any at all. I asked my dad about it — maybe he had let someone pick them? — but he had no clue. Not a single apple left on the tree nor a trace of one on the ground. We talked about it, and our theory is that the deer must have come for them. They've got so little to eat in the woods, and it's hard for them to find water as well, so they're approaching civilization and trying foods they usually don't bother.
We agreed that if the deer are that hard up, we don't mind that they took the apples this year.
My fingers are stained with blackberry juice. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to devour the berries as soon as I picked them, considering what rabbits may have rubbed against them and what trucks may have spewed noxious fumes in their general direction, but I just couldn't help myself. It's warm outside, and somehow they're cool and sweet and dripping with pinkness.
In other news, the black cherries are starting to form little green cherries, I spotted my first trumpetvine blossoms of the year (again, I think it's early!) and the little elm seeds have started to fly and are everywhere.
In other news, the black cherries are starting to form little green cherries, I spotted my first trumpetvine blossoms of the year (again, I think it's early!) and the little elm seeds have started to fly and are everywhere.
Young blackberrries
May. 5th, 2011 02:15 pmYesterday evening, out walking past the mass of brambles across the road from my apartment, I noticed that the blackberry blossoms are almost gone... and the berries are already forming! There were some nice sized ones, already bright red. They go from tiny and green, to larger and red, to juicy, shiny black.
April 26: Red
Apr. 26th, 2011 05:09 pmWild strawberries are so neat because they're unexpected. Just a normal, grassy weedy area like a park, and suddenly there are these bright red fruits growing there.
Another red I keep running across, a new one to me, is red buckeye. It grows chestnuts, apparently, but usually doesn't reach tree size. The ones I've seen have been in swampy areas, shrub-sized with large, shiny serrated leaves and distinctive shoots of narrow brick-red flowers.
Another red I keep running across, a new one to me, is red buckeye. It grows chestnuts, apparently, but usually doesn't reach tree size. The ones I've seen have been in swampy areas, shrub-sized with large, shiny serrated leaves and distinctive shoots of narrow brick-red flowers.
March 31: Wild cherry blossoms
Mar. 31st, 2011 01:33 pmThe black cherry trees have their smooth, pointed leaves and some are in full blossom, with long cylindrical brushy clusters of white flowers all over the trees. Other trees have just got tiny white buds about to open. Eventually those bottle brush blossoms will be long stems full of little green (then pink... red... purple black) cherry fruits.
March 25: Springing
Mar. 25th, 2011 05:51 pmI've been mostly gone from the city for almost two weeks, and what changes have been happening! The pear trees have full, shiny green leaves and tiny infant fruits, which won't ever get much bigger than a holly berry in the ornamental pears.
The pines are covered, at the end of every branch and branchlet, with their male cones ready to spread pollen. The tulips are in tall, full bloom and happiest of all, the wild blackberry brambles are starting to bloom.
The pines are covered, at the end of every branch and branchlet, with their male cones ready to spread pollen. The tulips are in tall, full bloom and happiest of all, the wild blackberry brambles are starting to bloom.
October 10: Black walnuts
Oct. 10th, 2010 11:03 pmYesterday I was sitting out on the front porch at the farm in the late afternoon. There was little breeze, and except for the crows and the occasional sound of a distant neighbor target-shooting, it was quiet and peaceful. On the verge of being too warm. I was concentrating on some work I had with me, but every once in awhile I would hear a thump from the direction of the east side of the house. It was a muffled thudding sound, as if something heavy was hitting the soft ground. For a moment I wondered if my dad was dropping chunks of firewood over the pasture fence, but I saw him inside, so that wasn't it.
Finally I realized it must be the black walnut tree. The seeds of the black walnut, when they drop, are the size of a baseball, but more dense. The actual nut at the core of this huge fruit is a little bigger than an English walnut, and the outside of the shell is very rough. The shell is covered with a thick green rind which turns black as it ages, after the nut falls from the tree. The green rind, I learned from experience as a child, will stain your skin dark yellow, and there is no washing it out. I believe it can be used as a natural dye.
So the thump that I thought was heavy pieces of firewood was just nuts falling from a tree. Big, heavy nuts—lots of them. You can't even walk in that area without rolling around on them like a cartoon character on a dropped bag of marbles.
Finally I realized it must be the black walnut tree. The seeds of the black walnut, when they drop, are the size of a baseball, but more dense. The actual nut at the core of this huge fruit is a little bigger than an English walnut, and the outside of the shell is very rough. The shell is covered with a thick green rind which turns black as it ages, after the nut falls from the tree. The green rind, I learned from experience as a child, will stain your skin dark yellow, and there is no washing it out. I believe it can be used as a natural dye.
So the thump that I thought was heavy pieces of firewood was just nuts falling from a tree. Big, heavy nuts—lots of them. You can't even walk in that area without rolling around on them like a cartoon character on a dropped bag of marbles.
September 21: Further notes on persimmons
Sep. 21st, 2010 09:32 pmIn my post about persimmons a few days ago, I neglected to mention something very important. Wild persimmons are good to eat, but whatever you do, make SURE they are ripe before you bite in.
I am not messing around here, y'all. You bite into a persimmon that's not quite ripe, and that thing will DRAW UP YOUR FACE LIKE A MUMMY IN A HORROR FLICK. You will think your mouth has been instantly dessicated and filled with talcum powder.
I learned this lesson at age 11 or so, when a friend and I were walking through someone's cow pasture and came upon a persimmon tree. We both tasted the fruit; hers was ripe... mine was not. I was reminded of that experiential lesson today when I picked up a couple of persimmons from the walk next to the parking lot. The sun had been beating on them all day, and they were uncomfortably warm in my hand. I let them cool before giving them a good inspection. They seemed soft enough, and the skin was very thin, which is a good sign. Inside, the flesh was mushy and orange. I gave it a tiny taste: sweet. Very sweet, a little mealy. Just like it should be. Whew.
Wild persimmons nestled in silver mound
I am not messing around here, y'all. You bite into a persimmon that's not quite ripe, and that thing will DRAW UP YOUR FACE LIKE A MUMMY IN A HORROR FLICK. You will think your mouth has been instantly dessicated and filled with talcum powder.
I learned this lesson at age 11 or so, when a friend and I were walking through someone's cow pasture and came upon a persimmon tree. We both tasted the fruit; hers was ripe... mine was not. I was reminded of that experiential lesson today when I picked up a couple of persimmons from the walk next to the parking lot. The sun had been beating on them all day, and they were uncomfortably warm in my hand. I let them cool before giving them a good inspection. They seemed soft enough, and the skin was very thin, which is a good sign. Inside, the flesh was mushy and orange. I gave it a tiny taste: sweet. Very sweet, a little mealy. Just like it should be. Whew.
Wild persimmons nestled in silver mound
September 18: Persimmons
Sep. 18th, 2010 11:22 pmThe persimmon tree on the slope next to my apartment building has ripening fruit now. It's in a very shady area, so I think it might ripen later than most of the other wild persimmons around here. My parents' tree has had fruit falling for a month. (Theirs are smaller and almost blue when they're ripe, so maybe it's a slightly different variety, or the soil conditions are different.)
I walk past the upper branches of this tree when I cross the foot bridge to go down into the courtyard. I get to watch as the leaves come on in the spring, then the green hard blossoms, and the fruit as it grows.
I walk past the upper branches of this tree when I cross the foot bridge to go down into the courtyard. I get to watch as the leaves come on in the spring, then the green hard blossoms, and the fruit as it grows.
September 12: Beautyberry
Sep. 12th, 2010 06:10 pmI never really noticed this plant, Callicarpa americana, which I first learned as French mulberry, until I visited a swamp in Louisiana. It doesn't have particularly interesting leaves or flowers, but once the berries come on it's unmistakable. Round clusters of pink-purple berries form along the stalk right where the opposite leaves sprout, or even right along the whole stem like a growth that looks like it's overtaking the leaves completely. And so you get a shrubby stand full of these balls of color you don't see anywhere else in the local natural environment, at least not in the fall.
I do see them in my home area now—there are a lot in the landscaping at the zoo, but I also saw a few small ones at the edge of the woods near the farm last weekend. These are apparently native, though there are a lot more species of beautyberry that are native to Asia.
The leaves contain a chemical called callicarpenal (named after the plant) that has been found to repel mosquitoes -- but the old folks have known that for ages.
American beautyberry
American beautyberry, pink variety
I do see them in my home area now—there are a lot in the landscaping at the zoo, but I also saw a few small ones at the edge of the woods near the farm last weekend. These are apparently native, though there are a lot more species of beautyberry that are native to Asia.
The leaves contain a chemical called callicarpenal (named after the plant) that has been found to repel mosquitoes -- but the old folks have known that for ages.
American beautyberry
American beautyberry, pink variety
A bit leftover from the farm: I picked up a stone during my walk Monday morning. It's one of the common flints around here: grey with black threads running through it, usually chipped in interesting ways. This one had two beautifully curved depressions, just right for a thumb to feel. The ridge between the depressions was worn by the road.
The stone had been in the sun, and it was very warm. I love the way stone absorbs heat. It's slow and even, and when it's warmed by the sun it usually won't hurt you the way metal or even glass will. The smoothness of this stone was lovely as well. Not as slick as glass or sticky as polished metal. Just dense, hard, and perfectly smooth.
I also found a muscadine, the first ripe one of the season. These wild grapes have thick, purple or purple and green skins and the flesh inside is clear, with three or four seeds. They have a musky flavor and smell that's very distinctive. The smell is AUTUMN to me.
I'd like to cultivate muscadines someday. I'm afraid they would lose some of that special flavor if they lost their wildness, but it would still be nice to try.
The stone had been in the sun, and it was very warm. I love the way stone absorbs heat. It's slow and even, and when it's warmed by the sun it usually won't hurt you the way metal or even glass will. The smoothness of this stone was lovely as well. Not as slick as glass or sticky as polished metal. Just dense, hard, and perfectly smooth.
I also found a muscadine, the first ripe one of the season. These wild grapes have thick, purple or purple and green skins and the flesh inside is clear, with three or four seeds. They have a musky flavor and smell that's very distinctive. The smell is AUTUMN to me.
I'd like to cultivate muscadines someday. I'm afraid they would lose some of that special flavor if they lost their wildness, but it would still be nice to try.
July 9: Tomato jungle
Jul. 10th, 2010 10:14 pmI haven't had a lot of success producing a tomato crop in the pots on my balcony. I've tried various varieties of tomato plants and various types of pots, including the hanging kind. (Tip: make sure the hook you hang the plant on is secure and not screwed into rotten wood.) If I get two or three tomatoes off of a plant, it's a pretty good yield. It's been a bit disappointing, and I've wondered if I'm just wasting the water I use to keep them healthy.
Last year, some new people moved in to one of the apartments that's right off the courtyard below and behind my apartment. They had some lovely shade-loving plants, but the prettiest one was... a tomato plant. It was tall and viney, and it never had a single fruit. Somehow, I could tell it was just there to be a plant. And I loved it for that.
So this year, when I planted my two little tomato plants, I decided that my goal was not fruit at all. It was just to have some bushy, tall, pretty green plants with that amazing, distinctive smell of tomato plants. I just wanted to enhance my balcony with the greenery.
The plants have actually produced a few tomatoes — one from the Arkansas Traveler plant, and four or five cherry-sized tomatoes from the patio bush plant. Lots and lots of blossoms, but few fruits. No worries, though, because they have gotten big and pretty and that corner of my balcony is practically jungle-y now. I'm really enjoying it.
I even have a millet plant that grew up volunteer from a piece of birdseed. It was 18 inches tall and had a head of millet forming before I even noticed it!
Last year, some new people moved in to one of the apartments that's right off the courtyard below and behind my apartment. They had some lovely shade-loving plants, but the prettiest one was... a tomato plant. It was tall and viney, and it never had a single fruit. Somehow, I could tell it was just there to be a plant. And I loved it for that.
So this year, when I planted my two little tomato plants, I decided that my goal was not fruit at all. It was just to have some bushy, tall, pretty green plants with that amazing, distinctive smell of tomato plants. I just wanted to enhance my balcony with the greenery.
The plants have actually produced a few tomatoes — one from the Arkansas Traveler plant, and four or five cherry-sized tomatoes from the patio bush plant. Lots and lots of blossoms, but few fruits. No worries, though, because they have gotten big and pretty and that corner of my balcony is practically jungle-y now. I'm really enjoying it.
I even have a millet plant that grew up volunteer from a piece of birdseed. It was 18 inches tall and had a head of millet forming before I even noticed it!
July 8: Wild cherries ripe
Jul. 9th, 2010 12:42 amThe black cherries, which I first wrote about on June 24, are starting to ripen now. I knew it first because a few had fallen onto the walkway bridge from my apartment. They soon get crushed and make small round dark purple stains on the wood.
They don't ripen all at once, even on the same stem. One by one or two by two they'll turn dark red and then black, while the rest of the fruits are still green or light red.
Wild cherries aren't easy to use. They're very plentiful, produce loads of fruit, and they don't take any work to cultivate, but once you pick a few buckets of those tiny cherries, you then have to process them. They're at least fifty percent seed, so you have to remove the fruit or the juice from the pits. In the past we've done it by squeezing or pressing. Your hands and arms get all stained, and when you wash them in the kitchen sink, the white ceramic turns the most gorgeous color of purple. From that you might get a few jars of jelly. It's nice to use every kind of fruit that grows, but I'm not surprised there isn't a lot of black cherry jam or wine out there.
They don't ripen all at once, even on the same stem. One by one or two by two they'll turn dark red and then black, while the rest of the fruits are still green or light red.
Wild cherries aren't easy to use. They're very plentiful, produce loads of fruit, and they don't take any work to cultivate, but once you pick a few buckets of those tiny cherries, you then have to process them. They're at least fifty percent seed, so you have to remove the fruit or the juice from the pits. In the past we've done it by squeezing or pressing. Your hands and arms get all stained, and when you wash them in the kitchen sink, the white ceramic turns the most gorgeous color of purple. From that you might get a few jars of jelly. It's nice to use every kind of fruit that grows, but I'm not surprised there isn't a lot of black cherry jam or wine out there.
June 24: Wild cherries
Jun. 24th, 2010 09:11 pmThe wild cherry trees (black cherry, Prunus serotina) fruited weeks ago: long stems with shorter stems at even intervals, each bearing a little green ball. The green cherries have started to turn pink now, and eventually they'll be a red so deep it's black. Young wild cherry trees are easy to recognize by the long, shiny leaves and smooth bark with horizontal white stripes in it. You can even recognize bare twigs, if they're fresh, by scraping the bark with your thumbnail; there's a very distinctive scent which I have heard comes from cyanide. It's entrenched in my sense memory through whittling wild cherry wood.
This tree is growing under a huge old red oak.
My best memory of wild cherries is from the summer I was twelve. I had just discovered that the tree at the entrance to our upper garden was loaded with fruit, and I was determined to harvest as much as possible. (I didn't know how much work it would be to process those tiny, large-seeded cherries for jelly!) So I stood on a ladder for hours, picking and dropping the little fruits into an ice cream bucket while the sky threatened to storm. I clearly remember a soundtrack of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, but it must have been in my head, because I know I didn't own a CD walkman back then, nor would it have occurred to me to take a boombox outdoors.
This tree is growing under a huge old red oak.
My best memory of wild cherries is from the summer I was twelve. I had just discovered that the tree at the entrance to our upper garden was loaded with fruit, and I was determined to harvest as much as possible. (I didn't know how much work it would be to process those tiny, large-seeded cherries for jelly!) So I stood on a ladder for hours, picking and dropping the little fruits into an ice cream bucket while the sky threatened to storm. I clearly remember a soundtrack of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, but it must have been in my head, because I know I didn't own a CD walkman back then, nor would it have occurred to me to take a boombox outdoors.
I've just had a breakfast of wild blackberries, picked fresh from across the road. As I'll be out of pocket for the rest of the day, I'll share something else from yesterday: I took a video of Mr. Mockingbird. He was not more than four feet above me on a branch, singing bravely. Unfortunately, the phone video quality is very low and you can't see the bird in it, but you can hear him, which was my main goal. Near the end there's a quiet space in which the calls he was practicing were a lower frequency and didn't get picked up by the speaker, but they come back in at the end. He went on for quite awhile longer, with more varied songs, than the camera would record! (Note: the video is sideways, because I don't know what I'm doing with my phone.)
I've also noticed my first mauve crepe myrtle blossoms of the year. At the same time, I saw a few lavender ones, the rarest in my experience, and the prettiest.
I've also noticed my first mauve crepe myrtle blossoms of the year. At the same time, I saw a few lavender ones, the rarest in my experience, and the prettiest.
June 4: Rabbit and blackberries
Jun. 4th, 2010 10:09 pmI went out for a walk this evening at dusk. It's harder to motivate myself to walk here in the city, because I find the constant traffic noise and the presence of a lot of other people stressful. But I'm lucky: there's still a lot of nature to be found. The hospital complex where I walk includes some land that's left untended, a wasteland full of shrubs and vines, a small creek, and the last uncut portions of an old wood with tall white oaks. From the higher vantage point of my balcony, I've seen raccoons and even a fox in the area. And there seem to be quite a few cottontail rabbits.
I saw one this evening, for the first time this year in the city. It had emerged from the brambles and last year's tall brown canes of ragweed and was sitting motionless in the mowed grass beside the pavement. It looked like it might want to head toward the road, but after I snapped a picture, I walked toward it and it headed back to the safety of the tall grass.
And then... there were berries.
I waded right into the edge of the brush and picked the ones you see in the photo and popped them into my mouth right away. Small (the size of my index fingernail), sweet, juicy, not tart at all, and pure summer. If I could figure out how to type the incoherent noises of pleasure I made when I ate them, I would.
I mentioned back in my first post, referring to mid-April to early May, that there seemed to be an unusually high number of blackberry blossoms this year. That has certainly been followed by the equivalent number of berries. Most of them are not ripe yet. They are red before they turn black.
But when they are, I could spend hours in the brambles picking them, if I didn't mind the trespassing risk. I believe the land technically belongs to the hospital system, and even though that area is allowed to grow wild, I've never seen anyone else taking advantage of the berries, and I wouldn't have to go more than eight feet away from the public sidewalk, if they wanted to accuse me of something, they probably could. Urban harvesting is tricky. A lot of owners aren't a bit interested in the bounty on their own land until they see someone else taking an interest.
I saw one this evening, for the first time this year in the city. It had emerged from the brambles and last year's tall brown canes of ragweed and was sitting motionless in the mowed grass beside the pavement. It looked like it might want to head toward the road, but after I snapped a picture, I walked toward it and it headed back to the safety of the tall grass.
And then... there were berries.
I waded right into the edge of the brush and picked the ones you see in the photo and popped them into my mouth right away. Small (the size of my index fingernail), sweet, juicy, not tart at all, and pure summer. If I could figure out how to type the incoherent noises of pleasure I made when I ate them, I would.
I mentioned back in my first post, referring to mid-April to early May, that there seemed to be an unusually high number of blackberry blossoms this year. That has certainly been followed by the equivalent number of berries. Most of them are not ripe yet. They are red before they turn black.
But when they are, I could spend hours in the brambles picking them, if I didn't mind the trespassing risk. I believe the land technically belongs to the hospital system, and even though that area is allowed to grow wild, I've never seen anyone else taking advantage of the berries, and I wouldn't have to go more than eight feet away from the public sidewalk, if they wanted to accuse me of something, they probably could. Urban harvesting is tricky. A lot of owners aren't a bit interested in the bounty on their own land until they see someone else taking an interest.
