Warning! Guard Snakes on Duty.

Monday morning as I was checking the garden for water, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a clump of brown. thinking it was a couple of dead leaves which had landed in the plants I started to reach for it. That was when I noticed the pattern and shape I was reaching toward. A snake!

While the encounter was somewhat startling, it was far from unexpected. We have been finding Northern Brown Snakes in the gardens for at least twenty years. I remember the first time because I did something I immediately regretted- I killed it. It happened before I could think.

I was attempting to raise strawberries in the one small patch of yard which would receive enough sun (I thought) that they would thrive. I was weeding and removing yellow leaves. Something suddenly moved and I saw a medium size snake that made me panic. I had a trowel in my hand I used to 'defend' myself.
Afterwards looking at the destruction I had done, I was ashamed. I knew it was a non-venomous snake, not threatening me in any way, other than being in the wrong place (to my mind) at that point in time.

I have had relationships with reptiles in my younger years. I grew up near Pennypack Park in Northeast Philadelphia. My parents indulged my pet gathering forays into the park. Over the years we shared the house with Box Turtles, Rabbits (domestic, not wild), Snapping Turtles, and snakes.

The biggest snake we lived with was a Black Rat Snake. It belonged to Roger Conant who was then Curator of Reptiles at the Philadelphia Zoo. He had loaned it to the Nature Lodge at Treasure Island Boy Scout Camp for the summer. As one of the counselors, I was returning it to him at the end of the season. The morning he came to retrieve it, the snake had made a break for it. I was scouring the house until I heard my yelling in the basement. It had hitched a ride in the laundry basket and was daring my mother to remove the dirty socks from the basket. Mr. Conant was very gracious as he retrieved his snake. Thankfully, it was the last summer that the Nature Lodge kept wild animals in captivity.

But back to our container garden on Baltimore Ave.
This was our first sidewalk snake discovered in the Hydrangeas in 2009. It was sunning itself, which I now know is something reptiles do after they have eaten to help the digestive process. I presumed the snake had slithered over from our neighbors actual garden. Their yard has minimal sun, so I thought it would later return to 'land'. Didn't see it again that summer, but the following year, I did find a shed snake skin in a nearby pot. the skin was from a snake about 14 inches long. Given these snakes coloration, it's easy to overlook them in the leaf litter and dry soil at the base of your plants.

Last November about Thanksgiving weekend, we cut back our pots of Canna and brought them inside to our back basement. It's a space we seldom enter over the winter, separate from the basement where Gary has his glass studio. As we were cleaning up the leaves which accumulate behind the pots, I noticed several wriggling things. I expected them to be worms, as the material is often damp and beginning to decompose. I was surprised that the movement was not the erratic movement of disturbed worms, but more rhythmic and intentional. I looked closer and realized they were baby snakes. I carefully moved the pots back in place that would remain outside all winter, hoping we would greet them again in the spring.

On May 9 I was cleaning up the side deck, where a bunch of empty pots had wound up in the ledge we incorporated in the side deck's design. I was separating and then sizing the, when something caught my eye. It was this critter. Larger than the snakes we had seen in November by at least double, but no where near as large as the snakes we were seeing later during the summer.This snake retreated into the space between the nested pots and I had a sudden revelation.

When I prepare new containers to use in our garden, one thing I usually do is make sure there is a layer of air pockets at the bottom of the pot. I also make sure there are adequate drain holes at the lowest point in the container. The easiest and handiest way to do this is to use fragments of nursery trays, or those flimsy plastic market packs crushed to improve drainage. Why do I do this? Plant roots need to absorb oxygen as well as water. If the soil becomes over-saturated, the roots can drown. This is probably the least understood concept for beginning gardeners. By providing a layer of air holes by using broken pots or other material, you help make sure this doesn't happen to your plants. These air pockets seem to have an added benefit in our sidewalk garden. they provide a suitable environment for a snake community.

Why are we so enthusiastic about these critters? Two words-Pest Control! Brown Snakes snakes eat slugs for one thing, a pest we have in abundance. I have tried the stale beer control, but you wind up with saucers of real disgustingness which is almost as gross as the damage slugs do themselves. I'll choose snake control over beer control any day. If there is a drawback, it is that they eat earthworms. I haven't noticed a decline in that population, tho. Especially in our compost bins.

Female Northern Brown Snake retain their fertilized eggs internally which develop through the spring and summer. The young are born live in late summer/early fall. These snakes have their own predators to evade. I'll tell you about our life with some of them in a future post.

Houseplant Holiday

"What's that crazy guy across the street doing now?"

"I don't know. Looks like he dressing his plants up for Halloween. Think they're supposed to be some kind of ghost or something"

Yep, I really did hear that last summer. I was on the roof, and didn't want to shout across the street to explain. A long time ago I learned that you can't move your houseplants directly from indoors into full sun light. Just like people, plants will burn if not gradually built up to receiving full sun. I killed more than a few plants in the early years by not following what I had read in books. I began regularly to acclimatize my houseplants to a drastic change in their living quarters each year when they moved from the protection of wind, rain, and sunlight.

Sometimes if I get started early enough in the spring, I can put them out at the start of a week or so of overcast weather. This works best before the days are too long, but the evenings are no longer very cold. We have a few spots around outside that are in the shade all day, and these spots are also useful to let plants get accustomed to direct sunlight gradually.

Invariable, the season catches up with me. I find no other places where I can shade the plants for the first week, so out they go to a sunny spot. To provide a bit of protection, I cover the plants with some assorted old sheer curtains which were my mom's. I use clothes pins to hold the curtains in place. After a week I remove them on the first cloudy day to give the plants their first full exposure.

The plants in the photo above are Night Blooming Cereus (Epiphyllum oxypetalum) and are family heirlooms. One belonged to my maternal grandmother, and is older than I (and I'm pushing sixty-three). The second is a cutting taken from the original plant and raised by my Aunt Stephanie for 30 + years before I inherited it. The third is a cutting I started for a friend who changed their mind when they saw how large our plants had grown. The two older plants were touching our ten foot ceilings when Gary lugged them down the stairs as I guided the leaves. Most survived the move. After securing the plants to the wall so they wouldn't topple over, I got the ladder and the curtains and proceeded dress them up.

My grandmother summered her plant on her shady front lawn, and it bloomed with great infrequency. The year I was in tenth grade was one of those rare years. I stayed at her house so I could draw the various stages of the bloom, which only lasts one night. That year it bloomed in October, so the plant had already been moved back into Granny basement, where it wintered on the window ledge facing the same shady exposure.

At our house we keep the plants in a south facing bay window when they are inside. They receive full days of sun. When we move them outside they go on the east side of the house, so they receive sun about half of the day. Last year we lost count of the number of flowers we had over the summer. When the first bud shows signs of being ready to open, we put friends on high alert. When we're sure it's opening, we hold an impromptu part outside. Last year word spread via twitter, and we had complete strangers dropping by to join us.

I noticed that my grandmother's plant already had at least a dozen tiny buds when we moved it. Presuming they all survive the move, I'm guessing the party will be in about six week. Let me know if you want to join us.

Ailanthus: Tree of Heaven, or tree from hell?

The yard behind us has several Ailanthus altissimas. Most of you know this tree. It's found in most American cities, anywhere there is a little soil and no one to check its growth. It grows between bricks on abandoned buildings,  in cracked concrete in alley ways, and has invaded native forests in at least 30 states. The tree is native to China, Taiwan, and Northern Korea. Because of it's rapid growth, it was imported to the United States by William Hamilton, a Philadelphia botanist whose estate, The Woodlands, is a few blocks from us. It was used as a street tree until people realized how short-lived the tree is, and how malodorous it is. Then it lost favor. But it was already too late. The tree spread quickly.

It's bloom seems to occur at the same time as Privet (Ligustrum sinense Lour.) which abounds in our neighborhood as hedges. The smell for the first day or so is actually pleasantly sweet. Despite my loathing of this particular tree, I noticed with delight bees clambering about the flowers when I was watering the top roof deck last  Thursday. Then the rain came. Old, wet ailanthus pollen smells like only one thing, despite what others say, it smells like cat piss.

The rain from the tropical storm Andrea helped wash the pollen from the tree and down to the ground. A thick coating is everywhere, including the leaves of our Hosta garden which is below this tree. I try to wash the pollen of the leaves as best as I can as soon as possible after a rainfall. I have not always been able to manage this though, and have found later after the pollen dries out, that it adheres to the leaves like Velcro. Then, if allowed to remain til the next rain, the re-sodden pollen will weigh the leaves down enough that they break.



If all this pollen slogging wasn't enough, after the pollen falls, the flower scapes dry, and eventually also fall. The part which had connected the scape to the tree, being heavier than the rest, falls first. This end also can be quite pointed and sharp, so when it hits a big broad Hosta leaf it shoots right into it. You get enough holes in one leaf, and you can forget about it helping the plant thrive. The leaves look like they've been used for target practice by the squirrels.

Some sources including the Plant Conservation Alliance, Alien Plant Working Group, www.nps.gov claim that ailanthus produce chemicals which prevent the establishment of of the plant species nearby. This might explain why I have such trouble getting new Hostas to thrive, unless I plant them in pots on top of the soil surrounding the tree.

Seedlings hide beneath the leaves of the Hostas, and if left to grow more than a year, are difficult to pull and get all of the roots. It's worth spending an hour or so to eliminate as many of the little time bombs as I can possibly find.

Last spring, as the pollen began to fall, I covered the Hostas with some old sheer curtains. I'd shake the pollen off every day or so. I left them on until most of the flower scapes had fallen as well. I then noticed that none of my Hostas bloomed last summer. I don't know for certain, that it was because of covering them, but it made me want to try something different this year. I'm hoping I can suspend some protection above them to keep the things from shredding the leaves. I'll let you know how it works.

I would be remiss to not mention the connection between ailanthus and the tree's most famous relation, the metaphoric "A Tree Grows In Brooklyn." I vaguely remember reading the book decades ago, long before I had an ailanthus in my life. I wonder if I'd read the book differently today?

Hydrangeas

Hydrangeas are one of my spouse's favorite flowers. Several years back I began purchasing small potted Hydrangeas at Easter from Produce Junction. They were some of the first shrubs to become part of our sidewalk garden. The initial few were in pots along our steps. We added a few in pots in our side yard- elevating them in pots means the dogs have to run around them, rather than through them, and they have survived and flourished.

Front steps. 

We get flowers starting in late May, first our pink "Mophead" (macrophilla) at the top of the steps in the most protected location, followed quickly by the many varieties of  "Lacecaps" (macrophilla normalis") we now have. About ten years ago we bought an Oakleaf Hydrangea (quercifolia) at a sale at Bartram's Garden. Oakleafs are one of the few native hydrangeas, and I like to think of the heritage of our plant (ands a number of others I see around our neighborhood) and the connection these plants have with one of the first botanists in North America whose garden was started in 1728.

Our Oakleaf provides interest over a major part of the year. The flowers hold on a long time, the leaves turn rust and red when the weather turns in the fall, and the bark has an interesting "shaggy" appearance that can be especially appealing in the snow. Our plant has been growing in a 4 gallon container with the bottom removed since we first brought it home. It seems to have settled well. The ground beneath the pot was sandy fill and loose bricks from a 1920's construction which added a stack of rooms to our house. The soil is quick draining helping to avoid root rot, which oakleafs frequently suffer. This plant is against an east facing wall, and protected on both north and south sides by buildings. There are two large plants in a  neighbors yard exposed in all directions, and they are none the worse for it.

Later in July, our H.paniculata "Limelight" comes into bloom. I like this plant because the flowers hold their color, unlike some of the earlier plants which start to dry at the edges and can look a little ratty up close. A neighbor has a plant with huge lime green blooms which open in late July/August, of which I have tried to start cuttings. (He was trimming it, but I believe the branches had already started to dry out) I will ask again to take a few pieces and immediately set them up. For a great source of info on Hydrangeas including propagation, please see Judith King's website,  Hydrageas! Hydrangeas! 

Front Roof-Climbing Hydrangea

As I was searching my photo files, I realize I neglected to mention one other Hydrangea we grow- H. anomala petiolaris, the climbing Hydrangea. We have one in the Front Roof Garden, in a protected corner. It's now about 10 years old, and has bloomed regularly and profusely for about 5 years. Be patient with this  vine and you will be rewarded richly.

We also picked up a couple of re-blooming Hydrangeas a month ago on the "Hospital Rack" (they call it the 'Clearance' rack) at Lowes. They are labeled 'Forever and Ever' one is Pepermint and the other a Yellow. The former already has two blooms. For an interesting discussion on these re-blooming hydrangeas which bloom on both old and new wood, check this thread on GardenWeb.

Double Flowered Lacetop Detail

Single Flowered, rounded petals. 

Our first Hydrangea, a pink Mophead. 

Same plant, just opening. 

H. paniculata in side yard. 

Oak Leaf Hydrangea

"Forever and Ever" Pepermint. 

Front steps from the sidewalk. 

Always Beginning

Even though the growing season here in Philly is almost half over, I've decided the time has come to start sharing some of my garden experiences. This year's mistakes and success will influence next years dreams and plans. A garden is a different thing every day: new blooms, dead blossoms, seeds developing, plants needing deadheading, new bugs, new pest predators-the list could be endless. The newness is what keeps me gardening.

I love the mornings when I can look carefully and discover all the newness in my gardens on that particular day. Hopefully you will enjoy them too.

 The East Coast has just been visited by the first named Tropical Storm of the season. Thankfully, the close to three inches of rain we received here fell in moderate doses. While flower heads were falling over from the weight of water clinging to the petals, there was no permanent damage from "Andrea" in our garden. I shook the tall hydrangea which had just begun to bloom before the storm arrived. Cuttings I had taken on Wednesday from a new Lamb's Ear benefited, as well as the plantings I did up on the top roof deck that same morning. Plus, I didn't have to water anywhere this morning ( a rare occurrence during warm weather for us).

Question we frequently hear are about watering. How long does it take? About an hour to an hour and a half each day in the summer. For me, that is all quality time. I get up early enough to beat the heat of the day. I water plants in the order of where the sun reaches first, so that I can be in the shade as much of the time as possible. Usually I start on the top roof deck off of our attic, five stories above the sidewalks. This deck is surrounded by trees, and in the flight pattern of many of our resident birds. There have been times when birds fly right past my ear, disturbing my reverie as I water. Most mornings it's just me and the birds, though I have to fight for occupancy with the squirrels if I get up slightly late. It's the first spot in their domain to receive sun, and they like to bask and play in and in between the plants. Critter Ridder from Havahart Corporation is the most effective deterrent, but it's expensive to keep replenishing especially if you have a large area to protect. I'm going to try a home-made deterrent at some point this summer (I've already used all forms of ground pepper). I'll let you know if it works.

Speaking of watering, even though water drops glistening in the early morning sun might look appealing, it's usually not the best thing for your plants. Plants draw water through their roots, not their leaves. Many plants which get "sprayed" with the hose tend to develop mildew in the hot humid Philadelphia summers. I always try to get the hose as close to the soil surface (whether in pots or in the ground) and avoid wetting the leaves.

The first catalogue for the next garden year arrived this week from Van Engelen. I've purchased mostly Hardy Lillies from them, but also many spring flowering bulbs over the years. I'm already thinking about what new blooms I'd like to see next spring.