December 2025 Sunrise - Winter Solstice

 

Sunrise at 7:35 am on Sunday, December 21, 2025

Could it be???!!!

I ended up with about 50 seeds.  Now...how to plant them?  

I figured they'd be like other fall-ripening wild fruits where they just needed a period of cold moist stratification in order to germinate.  I couldn't find much at all online, but finally came across a post where someone who had started some Viburnum plants from seed said they first needed warm moist stratification then cold moist stratification.

So I have them in some potting mix in a couple of flower pots ...

After about a month and a half, I couldn't help but dig around in the pots to see if anything was going on, and I think one of the berries had a tiny root coming out of it. 

In Pursuit of the blackhaw (Part 2) - December 10, 2024

What I had thought was a tiny root on that seed turned out to be nothing.  By summer, not a single seed had germinated.  I dumped the pots out and looked through the dirt for the seeds.  I found them, but they all looked completely dead.  I got a bigger pot, dumped all of the dirt and seeds from the two original pots in it, and just set it out in my woodland garden - just in case the seeds might not actually be dead. 

I didn't forget about the seeds - I watered them when I watered other the plants in the woodland garden, but when an entire year passed with no sign of any germination, I had pretty much written the whole thing off as another failure.

So I can't even begin to describe how shocked (and excited) I was when I watered the pots in the woodland garden yesterday.

What was that?  Was I imagining things????

No, I wasn't.  There it was - one tiny pale seedling poking up through the soil.

Now of course I may be all excited for nothing, because it may turn out to be something like a privet seed that a bird planted in the pot. 

But I don't think so.  I am pretty sure I can see the flat black seed coat.  It appears to have split open, setting the tiny leaves free.

But the million dollar question...why on EARTH did it decide to germinate now?  We're heading into the coldest part of the year.  Blackhaw is a deciduous shrub, so I can't imagine that the seedlings are supposed to come up in the fall or winter!

I wonder if temperature swings (cold at night, then warm in the day when the sun was shining on the pot) tricked the seed into thinking it was spring.

Well, no matter.  I'm not taking any chances that it will be killed by the cold weather.  I brought the pot inside and put it under the grow light with my citrus trees.  My hope is that if one is germinating, now that I've brought the pot inside where it's warmer, there will be more.  

Have I finally gotten lucky?  If it does turn out to be a blackhaw, and it doesn't die from dampening off or something (like Betty Boop, the kitten, eating it) maybe I'm going to actually have a blackhaw shrub to go in my yard.

That just made my day!!!  

The Meadow, Revisited

This past summer was, as my little sister said, a "mean summer."

I suppose that's not unusual though.  I can remember as a kid scanning the intense blue summer sky for clouds and just wishing so hard that it would rain.  School would start in August, and the afternoon rides home on the un-air-conditioned bus were sweltering hot, even with every window on the bus down.

But eventually the weather would break, the daytime temperatures would return to at least bareable and the rains would return.

We made it to that "end of summer" weather for 2025.  After what I suspect will be yet another hot/dry - probably record hot yet again - finally we got some slightly cooler temperatures and some much needed rain in late August and mid-September.  It was still hot out in the sun during the afternoons, anywhere from mid-80s to low 90s, but the nighttime temperatures were much cooler and the forecast showed highs in the upper 70s in the coming days.

So what happened in The Meadow over the summer?

In mid-June, the weedy-looking mess gave me a little glimpse of what I hope will be its future beauty.

The meadow, on June 19 of its first year.

Some of the highlights:

Spotted Bee Balm (Monarda punctata)

Black-eyed Susan (Rudbeckia hirta).  To the right, there's a flower stalk and bud of one of the pale purple coneflowers.

Purple Love Grass (Eragrostis pectinacea).  Sadly, these two clumps didn't survive the summer.

Tall Thistle (Cirsium altissimum)

Splitbeard Bluestem (Andropogon ternarius), surrounded by what I believe was crab grass.

Plains Coreposis (Coreopsis tinctoria) rescued from the Sparks place, just starting to bloom.

Old Field Goldenrod (Solidago nemoralis)

There really weren't very many plants that bloomed in this first summer, but they had all started to grow, and it looked like they were going to be Ok.

I had a few pots of pale purple coneflower (Echinacea pallida - or maybe it's Echinacea simulata?  I'm not sure....) that I had winter sown and as spring turned to summer, they were really starting to outgrow their pots.  Rather than move them into larger pots, I decided to go ahead set them out.  

I had also planted some splitbeard bluestem seeds in one of my 9-pack module trays.  The seeds germinated, but I couldn't seem to keep them watered and several of them died.  I decided to just plant the survivors in the meadow as well.

Splitbeard Bluestem (Andropogon ternarius)

July and August are horrible months to set out transplants, but since I had gone and done it, I decided to cover the little patch of meadow with one of my 40% garden shade cloths to try protect them at least a little bit from the baking hot summer sun.

Boy, did it look tacky!  But it actually worked really well.  With just a little of the sunlight blocked from hitting them, most of the transplants survived. 

The end of summer saw the fall bloomers take center stage.  The late boneset was blooming, the wrinkleleaf goldenrod was blooming, and the Texas vervain, plains coreopsis and Rudbeckia hirta put out a second flush of flowers.  I was reminded why I wanted a meadow in the first place.

After setting out the transplants, I hadn't planned on doing any more work in The Meadow this year.

But fools are called fools for a reason, I suppose.

RAF came out one Saturday in September to find me dragging the silage tarp over a new section of the field.  He watched for a bit and when I stopped to ask him what he thought he said, "I just don't get it.  You haven't even finished the first part yet and you're making it bigger????"

He does have a point.  But because the tarp has to be down for about a year to kill the Bermuda grass, I guess I was getting anxious.

After the billboard tarp and all but one piece of the silage tarp was moved, I took my weeding sickle and worked around the entire edge of where the tarp had been, cutting out the crabgrass, Bermuda grass, ragweed, etc. that had grown up because I hadn't run the string trimmer around it during the summer.  (Note to self...keep the edges of the tarp clear next summer.)

But then there was a big problem.  What should I do with all of the bare soil that I had just uncovered?

I decided to try three things.  

First:  In the 10' x 16' spot where the billboard tarp had been, I planted seeds.  I know, I know...that's not what I said I was going to do in my last post about The Meadow.  But this time, I took a clipboard and paper with me and made a map as I planted the seeds.  Every spot where something was planted got marked with a popsicle stick. Since the seeds are marked, it should be much easier to identify what's something I planted vs something that's a weed when the seeds germinate next spring (notice I said "when," not "if" - you just have to believe in the seeds, don't you?). 

  

Second:  North and west of the part where the popsicle stick markers were, I planted a cover crop of cereal rye. 

Third:  To the south of the popsicle stick markers, I scattered seeds of Rudbeckia hirta and a bunch of other old seeds that I had saved long ago.  Some of the seeds were marked and some weren't.  I said I wasn't going to do that again, but fools are called fools for a reason. 

One thing I did learn from my first "sprinkle the seeds" fiasco was that I need to "edit out" the ones I know I don't want, like the meadow buttercup, the goose grass and the crab grass while they're still small.  I have learned to recognize some weeds and some of the native forbs, and that gives me more confidence this time around in knowing what can stay and what needs to go.  

So what happens next?

There actually is a plan for next spring, even if it's not very well-formed at this point.  My little sister has also been bitten by the native plant bug (YAY for that native plant bug!), and we're hoping to have a winter sowing party very soon.  I'll be winter sowing some native bunch grass seeds:  Sideoats Gramma (Bouteloua curtipendula) and Prairie Dropseed (Schizachyrium scoparium), both purchased from Hamilton Native Outpost in Elk Creek, Missouri;  Little Bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium) collected on the side of the road by my little sister's house; and Purple Lovegrass (Eragrostis pectinacea) collected from the ditch north of The Meadow.   If I do manage to get some grasses started, they'll be used to fill in the blanks between the popsicle sticks.  It's backwards from what the experts recommend - they say establish your matrix first - but fools are.........

(There are lots of other seeds I'll be winter sowing, but that's a whole 'nother post!)

As for the part planted with cereal rye - well, if the rye behaves as it has in the past where I've planted it in my garden, I expect it should be ready to terminate by mid to late April.  I plan to crimp-kill it then direct sow a matrix of grasses directly into it.  If the grasses don't come up, I'm sure that spot in the meadow will grow some great sunflowers!

October 2025 Sunrise

 

Sunrise at 7:37 am on Wednesday, October 22, 2025.  The low for the morning was 39.7° F.  

September 2025 sunrise - fall equinox

The sun came up somewhere behind those heavy clouds sometime around 7:10 am on Monday, September 22, 2025.

August 2025 Sunrise

 

Sunrise at 6:43 am on Thursday, August 21, 2025.

Now what?

 

July 2025 Sunrise

 

Sunrise at 6:25 am on Monday, July 21, 2025.

June 2025 Sunrise - Summer Solstice

 

Sunrise at 6:07 am on Friday, June 20, 2025.

Why They Do This? Part 2

A little over a year ago, I wrote a post about an insect pest whose behavior seems against its self-interest.  The unanswered question in that post was "why do cutworms cut down (and therefore kill) the young plants they feed on?"

Today, I'm asking the same question about squash vine borers (Eichlinia cucurbitae).  

A squash plant will go from looking like this...

(Unfortunately, I don't have a "before" picture of the plant in question, so I had to settle for a picture of  the one growing in the same hill.)

...to looking like this in a matter of hours.

I've tried really hard to take care of my squash and pumpkins this year, making the rounds twice a day to check for and remove any squash bugs or squash bug eggs that I find.  And as I make my rounds, I try to check for signs of the squash vine borers and their eggs.

I thought I was doing a good job.  I hadn't seen any signs of frass coming from the stem on any plants, including the one in the picture.

But when I looked out the window at the garden this afternoon and saw one of the plants wilting much more than would be expected in the afternoon sun, I knew what was causing it.  The plant seemed fine this morning.  

Obviously, I wasn't doing as well at detecting the pests as I thought.  

From past experience, I know that once the plant wilts, it can't be saved.  So I just got my box cutter, cut it off at the base, and pulled the rooted part out of the ground.  

The damage is always extensive and absolute.  And looking inside the stem, one can see why the plant won't survive.  The insides are nothing but mush.  The poor plant has zero chance once the borers are inside for any length of time.

So again, I find myself asking, "Why they do this?!!!!"  

What does the moth benefit by killing the plant it depends on before the plant has even had a chance to produce seeds?

I've harvested seven yellow squash this year, and was looking forward to having more.  After today, I'm wondering if the other plants will be wilted later today or tomorrow. 

Because squash vine borers have become such a problem for me, I actually planted a second and third round of seeds.  The plant that died today was from the second planting.  The third ones just came up a couple of days ago.  Maybe those plants will be growing in the window of time when the borers aren't active?  I hope so.

When the shade gets over the garden this evening, I intend to try to dig down to find the pupa.  I expected it to be buried down in the soil under the plant, but didn't see it when I scratched around in the dirt.  I probably didn't dig down deep enough, or maybe didn't go out far enough from the plant.  

But if I find it, I will very gladly smash it with my boot.  And as it sees my boot coming down on it, I hope it is thinking, "Why she do this?!!!"

Update 6/21:  

I never did find the chyrsalis of the caterpillar that killed my squash vine.  But I found several eggs on the squash yesterday and today.

Those were scraped off and squished between my fingers.

And I noticed several leaves with frass coming out a hole near the top of the stem.  I cracked the stems open and found the nasty little caterpillars.

I stomped them with my boot.

The Meadow

I got it in my head that I wanted to turn the west field into a wildflower meadow.

RAF helped me move the fence, and after that was done, I felt quite intimidated.  

What I thought was going to be a small meadow seemed overwhelmingly large after the old fence was gone...especially large when I put down my 10'x 16' billboard tarp to start killing out the bermuda grass.  

With only a small tarp like that, and taking into account that the grass has to stay covered for at least a year to be sure it's good and dead, I estimated it would take me over 100 years to kill out all of the grass just using my billboard tarp.

Needless to say, I don't think the tarp will last that long - and I certainly know I won't!

Many experts who create native wildflower meadows recommend killing the existing vegetation with herbicide.  And while I'm not opposed to all use of herbicide (recall my war on privet) I'd prefer not to use it unless I have no other choice.  

So my older sister and her husband run a market garden, and I asked her one day if they had an old silage tarp I could buy.  She said they didn't have one to sell, but they had one I could "borrow indefinitely."  (I'm still trying to figure out how to make that loan fair to them.  I'll think of something.)

I was anxious to get started on the meadow, so late last summer, I decided I'd take a chance that the grass under the billboard tarp had been killed.  I dragged it over 9' to the west.

In the "bare" 10' x 16' space where the tarp had originally been, I set out a few native plants that I had started from seed, transplanted some plants that had come up in "the wrong place" and scattered some seeds I had collected or that were given to me: 

• 2 - Spotted beebalm (Monarda punctata) grown from seeds I purchased
  
  
• 1 - Green Milkweed (Asclepias viridis) grown from seeds I collected from the Carey field
  
  
• 4 - Pale Purple Coneflower (Echinacea pallida) grown from seeds I collected locally
  
  
• 1 - Tall Thistle (Cirsium altissimum) grown from seeds I collected in the Barber field
  
  
• 1 - Wrinkle-leaved goldenrod (Solidago rugosa), divided from a plant I started from seed collected in the Barber field a few years ago
  
  
• 1 - Missouri Ironweed (Vernonia missurica) transplanted from the vegetable garden
  
  
• 2 - Late Boneset (Eupatorium serotinum) transplanted from the vegetable garden
  
  
• 4 - Early Cudweed (Gamochaeta purpurea) transplanted from the vegetable garden and the yard
  
  
• 1 - clump of Purple Top grass (Tridens flavus) transplanted from my yard
  
  
• 1 - clump of Switchgrass (Panicum virgatum) - at least that's what I believe it was - transplanted from The Flower Bed to hide the Ugly Stump   (I'm not sure what it was, but it didn't survive, and now I know it wasn't switchgrass!)
  
  
• 1 - clump of Texas Vervain (Verbena halei) grown from seeds I collected from a plant I rescued from the lawn mower two summers ago.
  
  
• 2 - seeds of Whorled Milkweed (Asclepias verticillata) collected locally 
  
  
• 4 - clumps of Old Field Goldenrod (Solidago nemoralis) grown from seeds collected in the Barber field
  
  
• Seeds from Rudbeckia hirta collected from my flowerbed.
  
  
• Seeds from Maryland Senna (Senna Marilandica) collected from plants in my flowerbed that were from seeds collected in the Barber field
  
  
• Seeds fron a pink Yarrow (Achellea millefolium) collected from the 12-acre field
  
  
• Seeds from Purple Lovegrass (Eragrostis spectabilis) collected from the Barber house
  
  
• Seeds from Canada Wild Rye (Elymus canadensis) collected from the ditch in front of my house.
  
  
• Seeds from Little Bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium) Splitbeard Bluestem (Andropogon ternarius) collected from the Barber house, the Barber field, and from a plant I started from seed collected down on the creek a few years ago.
  
  
• Seeds from Maryland Meadow Beauty (Rhexia mariana) that my younger sister collected from her field
  
  
• Seeds from Purple coneflower (Echinacea purpurea)  I collected from my flowerbed
  
  
• Seeds from Rocket Larkspur (Consolida ajacis) I collected from my flowerbed (non-native)
  
  
• Seeds from Wild Bergamot (Monarda fistulosa) I collected from my flowerbed (original seeds were purchased from everwilde.com)
  
  
• Other miscellaneous unidentified seeds I had collected on my walk through the fields

In the early spring of this year, I picked up the silage tarp from my sister.  The tarp had been cut into three smaller pieces, which was very good, because they are pretty heavy when they're all in one piece.  After battling the strong winds that kept blowing the tarp around, I ended up putting it in a "U" shape around the billboard tarp, weighted down with t-posts and some old wheels and tires.

Looking over my list just now, I think I got a little  lot carried away with my haphazard "throw it and see what sticks" approach.  But that list has lots of interesting and beautiful plants in it, and I thought they would make the meadow really beautiful.

A few months later, with spring well underway, how does it look?

Honestly???  It looks like poo.

From a distance, the entire thing really just looks like a big weedy mess.  I'm sure RAF is hating it every time he has to look at it as he's mowing around it (but to his credit, he hasn't said anything about it yet).  

I didn't cut back the early winter annuals - the Henbit and Red deadnettle and meadow buttercup - so any little plants that might have germinated from seed - how would I ever see them?  And how would they ever see the sunlight?

As for the seeds I planted, for the most part, I just stupidly (very stupidly) scattered the seeds instead of clustering them in distinct spots and marking them.  So there are things coming up now that I don't recognize, and I am wondering, "Is that something I planted, or is that a non-native that needs to go, or a native that I don't want?"  (Case in point:  the Texas Dandilion, Pyrrhopappus pauciflorus.  I vaugely remembered scattering some seeds of a dandelion-looking plant, but I didn't know what the actual plant looked like so I didn't recognize it.)  

There are common ragweed and lanceleaf ragweed seedlings coming up here and there through the bed, but luckily I know what those look like and I've been pulling them out.  There are also quite a few Virginia pepperweed plants - some of those will get to stay but not all of them because they do tend to take over.  

There are sedges and reeds that I don't recognize.  

There are "weeds" that I just don't recognize all through the bed.  I don't think they are things I planted, so I suppose they were in the seed bank.  Are they natives or not?  I hope as they grow, I'll eventually be able to identify what they are.

Then there are the grasses.  There were/are some quite pretty and others that look like bullies, but I don't know my grasses much at all, so again, I have no idea what's native and what isn't.  

But worst of all, much worse, I didn't leave the billboard tarp in place long enough, and I'm already pulling sprigs of Bermuda grass out of the meadow!  NO, NO, NO!!!!!!  Not what I intended at all!!!!

I really feel like giving up on the meadow and turning it back into pasture.  Should I just give up? 

Not yet.

A meadow needs much more native grass, and I should have focused on planting grasses in my first year rather than planting flowers.  I should have set down my "matrix" first...the grasses are, after all, the anchor of the meadow.  They support everthing else growing there.

I did have some success with winter sowing Purple Lovegrass and Splitbeard Bluestem Little Bluestem, so a few clumps of those were added to the meadow about a month ago.  

Purple Lovegrass

Little Bluestem Splitbeard Bluestem

I have planted more little bluestem splitbeard bluestem seeds in cell trays, so I am hopeful that I'll have more grasses to set out late this summer.

In the meantime though, I'm just going to try to work with what I have.

And although the bed is already a hodge-podge of stuff, and really didn't need anything else added to it, there were two small Butterfly Milkweed plants that came up in The Flowerbed to Hide the Ugly Stump.  They were in spots that were way too shady, so I decided to take a gamble and transplant them into the meadow.  So far it looks like they've survived the move.

And this weekend, I went on another "rescue mission," transplanting some things from the Sparks place into the meadow.  These plants had already been mowed down at least once, and would continue to be mowed the rest of the summer so I didn't see why they shouldn't be relocated where they'd at least have a fighting chance.

Plains Coreopsis?

Spiderwort

So yes, right now it's just a big weedy mess.  But IF (and that's a very big IF) I can control the Bermuda grass that's trying to spread again, I hope that by next summer it will be looking more like a meadow and less like an abandoned city lot.

I've learned from the mistakes I've made in this first 10' x 16' section.  When I move the billboard tarp again, not only am I going to set my grasses out in a true matrix, I'm also going to use some sheet mulching or a terminated cover crop of something like cereal rye or winter wheat to keep the weeds down between the grasses while they get established.  And only after the grasses are growing well will I start adding my flowers.  And when I do add my flowers, I'm going to plot out on a map where everything is planted (and when it was planted) so I'll have a better idea of what to look for where.

I wish I could have a re-do on this first section of the meadow.  But maybe Mother Nature will look at it, sigh, shake her head, have pity on me and fix it.  And if she will do that for me, it will eventually be very beautiful, as all of her handiwork is.  

That's my hope, anyway.  

2025 - the year of the Ozark Chinquapin

I first joined the Ozark Chinquapin Foundation in February of 2023.  A bag of chinquapins nuts arrived in the mail in March of that year.

There were six nuts in that bag - these were from the 103x cross.  Although four of the six nuts came up, three of them were killed when something raided my "not-so-good-after-all-cages." So from that first bag of six nuts, there was only one little survivor.  

(I learned a hard lesson on cages in that first year.)

That little tree didn't grow much in its first year, but in its second summer, it really took off!  By end of the summer, it was probably close to two feet tall.  So far this spring, it has already put on another eight to 10 inches of growth.

I paid my second year of membership dues to the foundation on January 1, 2024, and in late January, I got a second bag of chinquipin nuts - cross 10x¹.  (The bag said it contained five nuts, but there were actually only three in the bag.)

This time, I decided I was going to try starting the nuts in cardboard paper towel tubes...my thinking was the the tubes were deep enough that I would be able to plant the nuts (tube and all) without disturbing the taproot.  Two of the three nuts sprouted, and I planted both of them just west of the first tree.  But a mole tunneled right through the planting hole for one of them and that little tree didn't survive.  I don't know why the chicken wire I had wrapped around the nut didn't protected it, but it sure didn't. 

As with the first tree, the surviving little 10x¹ tree didn't grow much in its first summer.  I'm guessing it was only about three inches tall by the time it went dormant last fall.  But it, too, has grown quite a bit this spring, now standing about 10 inches tall.  It looks a bit yellow, and I think that's from all of the rain and cloudy weather we've had in the past couple of weeks (I hope it isn't drowning and dying).

I planned to renew my membership in January, 2025, hoping to get another bag of chinquapins so I could keep trying.  But to my surprise, I received another bag of five chinquapins in the mail on December 14, 2024.  I don't know why they sent them, because I hadn't yet paid my membership dues for 2025!  Maybe they just had some extras they wanted to give away?

Five nuts from cross 36xx, received on 12/14/2024

These nuts were from cross 36xx, which, if I read the chart correctly, is actually quite a bit more blight resistance than the Chinese chestnut.

I decided to try the paper towel tube planting technique again this year.  Of the five 36xx nuts, only one didn't germinate.  

• I planted one across the road behind the telephone building.  When I checked on it yesterday, something had tried digging it up, but the chicken wire around the paper towel roll held, and the tree and nut seem to be intact. 
  
  
• A second one went to my older sister, but something dug it up the first night it was planted out, so it didn't make it.  
  
  
• A third one went to my younger sister, and so far as I know, it is still alive.  
  
  
• The last one was planted near the 103x and 10x¹ trees in my yard and seems to be hanging on even though it looked pretty tiny starting out.

When January 1, 2025 rolled around, I paid my membership dues, wanting to be sure that I kept my end of the "membership bargain" since they had already kept theirs!

But imagine how surprised I was to open the mailbox in early February to find yet another bag of five chinquapin nuts!

These five were from cross CT-1.  That's not on the chart, so I don't really know the blight-resistance level of that cross.

Five nuts from cross CT-1, received on 2/6/2025.

• I planted one of those nuts in the cage where the mole tunneled through (it has come up and seems to be growing well).  

Little chinquapin tree from cross CT-1.

• I gave one to my older sister, and while it did come up, it may have gotten too hot so we're not sure if it will survive.  
  
  
• I gave another to my younger sister and although it took a while to come up, I think she said it finally did.  
  
  
• I planted another one across the road behind the phone building, and planted the last one at the edge of the woods behind the barn.  Neither of those have come up.

It finally dawned on me that I should make a map of where every nut was planted so if the trees survive to a maturity and make nuts of their own, I'd have a record of which tree came from which cross.  I've drawn that out on the back of an envelope for now, just to get it on paper before I forget. 

And to be fair to the Ozark Chinquapin Foundation, today I just donated another $30 to help with costs associated with the second bag of nuts they sent this year.  I checked the box for "don't send me any more nuts" for this donation.  I don't have any more cages right now!

Now...IF these trees survive, it will be interesting to see what kind of resistance they, and any nuts they produce, might have.   I'm especially interested in the four trees planted together in my yard, because they're from four different crosses:  103x, 10x¹, 36xx and CT-1.  

I don't know what the long term plan is for the trees that grow from the nuts they're sending to their members.  I don't know if the intent is for members to start planting nuts from their trees out in the "wild" or if they would frown on that.  That would be a good question to ask someday I suppose.

But for now, I have five little chinquapin trees that I will need to look after in the summer of 2025.  I have my own baby Ozark Chinquapin nursery, don't I!

May 2025 Sunrise

 

Sunrise at 6:16 am on Wednesday, May 21, 2025.

Disaster strikes the backyard orchard

I so loved my Gala apples last summer.  And I was really looking forward to having more this year.

The tree was once again covered with blooms, and while there were hardly any insects on them when I looked, I guess there were enough to do the job.  The little tree looked like it was going to set a bunch of apples again.

But one afternoon as I made my usual round through the yard and garden, I noticed some wilted leaves and withered up fruits.  It didn't look good at all, but I told myself that probably it was just damage from all of the strong winds we had been having.

But after a few more days, it was apparant that something was badly wrong with the little tree.

More and more leaves are drooping down, wilting, then turning brown.  On a few of the limbs, it has affected almost every leaf.

And even some of the leaves that are still green have turned brown at the base - they will eventually wilt and turn brown.

Sadly, I don't think there's anything I can do to save the tree.

I'm pretty sure the little Gala has been attacked by fire blight.

Fire blight is a bacterial infection caused by the bacterium Erwinia amylovora.  There is no cure for it...all a person can do is try to manage the infection or cut the tree down and burn it.

Gala apples are listed by Cornell University as: Highly susceptible; Moderately susceptible; Very susceptible; Susceptible depending on which source you read.  (Fire blight Susceptibility of Common Apple Varieties)

So I'll keep an eye on it this summer - maybe I'm wrong in my diagnosis.  I told my dad the other day that I'm wrong 99 times out of 100, and the only time I'm right is when I say I'm wrong 99 times out of 100.  I hope this is one of the 99 times I'm wrong.

But if I'm not, I'll have to make a hard decision:  do I keep the tree and try to control the infection, or do I just take it out.  

As sad as it would be, in my heart I know that taking the tree out is probably the best option.  

I just hope the infection doesn't spread to the Enterprise apple tree (it has set some apples this spring!).  Enterprise is supposed to have some resistance to fire blight, so I guess we'll find out how much it actually does have.

I'm already making plans to buy a new bare root tree this winter - a Liberty apple tree.  Liberty is supposed to be one of the most disease resistant trees on the market.  

And I need all the help I can get.

April 2025 Sunrise

 

Sunrise at 6:38 am on Tuesday, April 22, 2025. 
I wanted to get a picture yesterday morning, but first of all, it was too foggy, but second of all...I forgot!

The Waking Month

The Waiting Month finally ended.  The yard and garden were quiet.  

When my little sister said maybe she could come take a tour, there was really nothing much to see.  "Just a patch of hope here, and a patch of wishes there," I told her.

But as the days slowly got longer and the temperatures warmer, things began to wake up from the winter sleep.

By March 7, the cereal rye/hairy vetch cover crop had grown a couple of inches.

One of the catkins on the American Hazelnut opened and released little puffs of pollen every time the wind breathed on it.

The tiny red pom-pom female flowers, open since February, would finally be pollinated.

On March 11, the first blossom opened on the little peach tree.

On March 21, the first queen bumblebee made her appearance.

On March 22, a single bloom opened on the Bing cherry tree.

And all of the tiny pink flowers on the redbud trees were beginning to open.

The first bloom on the American plum tree opened on March 25.

And all of the flower clusters on the male sassafras tree were fully opened up.

Fuzzy shoots of Butterfly Milkweed were poking through the ground by March 29.

And by March 31, the little Gala apple was covered in pink-white sweet-smelling flowers.

And the cereal rye/hairy vetch cover crop?

The plants that were about ankle high at the beginning of March are now up to my waist, and sway back and forth in the wind.

What a beautiful thing it is to witness the arrival of spring.  But a word of warning...if you blink, you'll miss it.  

The Waking Month has already ended.