Bringing some old friends home

When we bought our home in the spring of 2017, the gardens were quite a draw. They had been loved, nurtured and cultivated for almost 25 years. They start blooming in March and continue until November with lots of beautiful colors and flowers that pollinators adore. Once I had more time to spend on the land and get to know it better I realized the gardens were filled with many strangers. Most of the plants were cultivated and didn’t resemble their native cousins. Many natives like our beloved Goldenrod (Solidago, spp.), were weeded out.

Since we moved here, I’ve been trying to envision what the land would welcome. This has been an enormous and daunting task for me as I am a forager, not a gardener. I have always relied on Mother Nature to guide me; she always has the best designs. Who am I to mess with perfection? Nevertheless, it has become obvious that the land needs more and requires my support. But what and where?

In the first year, Mike and I created a nursery so I could bring my dearly treasured herbs over from the old house. They all loved their new home and thrived. Last year, I expanded the nursery and some friends made their way into it. I also brought in a couple of new herbs to get to know better, but they don’t seem to have overwintered well. Yet it is still early and we will see.

This year, I am trying my best to pay attention, listen and observe. I’ve started walking in our local forests and taking notice how the land and plants affect my heart and soul. Last week, I started to ask some plants to come home with me. I never take the first one I see and only take one or two that are growing in large groups. So far, they appear to enjoy their new home. I hope they thrive and multiply.

Here are some of the new additions to our land.

Trout Lily

When I see Trout Lily (Erythronium americanum) in the woods, I feel like I am home. For that reason, it made sense to try to bring her to our land. Even though, I’ve been told they do not transplant well, I thought it was worth a try. I found a large patch and tried my best to dig deep so I could release her entire bulb with some soil. The bulbs are known as a corm and are edible raw. They apparently taste like cucumber. I hope we will get a chance to taste them in years to come. I believe they are enjoying their new home. Time will tell.

 

Coltsfoot

One of my favorite spring indicators is Coltsfoot (Tussilago farfara). Years ago, I read a piece where Susun Weed noted that an excellent cough remedy could be made by infusing their blossoms in honey. I had always wanted to try this but whenever I found an abundant patch of Coltsfoot, it was in a drainage ditch. And folks, no one wants medicine made from herbs growing in a drainage ditch ~ yuck! Hopefully, our new arrivals will flourish and give me a chance to try this remedy some point down the road.

Hepatica

Another lovely spring indicator is Hepatica. When the sun shines, it makes the forest floor sparkle. She gets her name from her leaves, which, like the human liver has three lobes. She was once a very popular liver tonic. As a result, over 450,000 pounds of dried leaves were brewed into tea during 1883 alone. That is a lot of leaves! I don’t have plans to start collecting leaves, but who knows what will stir me in the years to come. I am simply grateful she seems to be enjoying her new home.

Slowing I am bringing old friends to the land. It will be fun to see how they will change the feeling of the land. How do you decide what to bring home? Please share and I will continue to share.

 

 

Thermogenesis and Skunk Cabbage, simply brilliant!

Recently, on a walk with a friend down our road, we spotted some early spring blossoms I call, “Spring Indicators.” For me they are screaming, “It’s happening! It’s Spring!!! Hallelujah!!” Eastern Skunk Cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus) is one of the earliest to emerge. My friend mentioned that they were thermogenic, meaning that they produce their own heat. I had no clue; this was new information for me. She also added that they provide a service to bees during the chilly days of spring. The bees can go into their spathe, which is the hoodlike structure to warm up. I simply loved learning about this mutually beneficial relationship, so I just had to delve deeper. Here’s what I uncovered.

“Eastern Skunk Cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus) can generate heat reaching temperatures ranging from 59-95 degrees F above air temperature by a process known as thermogenesis. It uses cyanide resistant cellular respiration to melt its way through frozen ground. The head shell around the flower traps the warm air inside creating the prefect little space heater for honey bees.

Honey Bees prefer to stop at scented flowers and the flowers of skunk cabbage emit differing scents varying from carrion, apple, turnip and garlic to entice the bees. As the bee forages for pollen to bring home to the hive, the flower emanates heat inside it’s shell creating a shelter for the bee that warms up the bees body so it can return safely home in the cold foraging temperatures that skunk cabbage blooms. A smelly weedy swamp plant functioning as a mini sauna and snack bar for bees – How cool is that!” By Anita Deeley at BeverlyBees.com

Then I asked myself; how does creating heat benefit the Skunk Cabbage? Sure, it’s nice to provide a warm safe place for your pollinators, but it takes quite a bit of energy, there must be more to it. Well, Barbara J. Nicholson and Sylvia L. Halkin from the Central Connecticut State University discovered: “Heat production in Symplocarpus foetidus is thought to assist pollination by accelerating the maturation of eggs and pollen in the spadix (aka flower), by melting any overlying snow cover to expose the spathe (aka hood), and by attracting a variety of pollinators through the emission of heat, odor and/or CO2.”

And there is more: “The heating process has another advantage: it helps intensify the flower’s rank odor, described as a combination of rotting meat, apples, turnips and garlic. It’s a perfume guaranteed to attract attention, and early emerging honeybees and other flies are glad to smell it. The lure brings them to flower stamens loaded with pollen, ensuring the flower is fertilized and produces seeds.” by John Challis of the Couchiching Conservancy

Well, that’s thermogenesis in the life of the Skunk Cabbage. Who knew? Mother Nature is fantastic and brilliant; she never ceases to amaze me.

What new natural fact has blown you away recently? Please share and I will continue to share.