Flaming Broomsedge Seed

A big reason I built a cold frame was to protect sown seeds from heavy rains and the critters that dig around in the seed flats.  So, now it’s time to get sowing!

One of my foci for 2019 are grasses.  Getting these started from seed and dividing already existing plump clumps will allow me to start planting groundcover species that will shade the soil much of the growing season.  I also like how at the beginning of the growing season when grasses are mown, they generate a nice mulch layer to keep weeds down.  

Last fall, I collected grass seed from up and down the roadside as well as in the garden here, and now I’m sowing Andropogon, Muhlenbergia, and Eragrostis.  

For Andropogon virginicus (broomsedge), seed actually benefit from a stratification treatment (exposing seed to cold and moist conditions); therefore, sowing them sooner rather than later will take advantage of the cold weather coming.  I collected some culms filled with seed and allowed them to dry in a brown paper bag on our back porch.

Then, I took a five gallon bucket and shook the seed loose in it.  Andropogon seed have hairs on the pedicel and rachis internode that allow them to catch a breeze and spread; such airborne packages are called diaspores (a seed and everything that aids dispersal).  These can be problematic when sowing a tray.  

I had heard Roy Diblik say that the plumes of Asclepias (milkweeds) could be removed with a flash fire.  With the seed in the bucket, I grabbed a lighter and lit the plumes on fire.  It quickly burned and left me with a pile of seed ready for planting.  Andropogon is fire adapted, and the flash burn probably didn’t damage any seed.  (NOTE:  As with anytime you are using fire, make sure you practice safety!)

I’ll update you in a few weeks to see how germination is progressing.  

Constructing a Cold Frame

This weekend, I built a cold frame.  The project has been on my wish list for a while.  I’ve had issues with getting seeds started with our couple-times-a-year gully washers.  This simple structure will provide me with protection from rain to start perennial and cool-season annuals with the added bonus of a couple degrees of extra warmth at night.

I had in mind what I was trying to construct since I built them as a teenager back in Tennessee based on Eliot Coleman’s designs.  A walk around the hardware store, and I was able to piece together my project.  I decided on a smaller size (3 × 6 ft) than my usual 4 × 8 ft because that 18 sq ft was the largest pane of plexiglass I could find.  I also chose pine as my wood. There’s a cedar lumberyard about an hour away, and for future frames I’ll use that wood. But, I was in a hurry to get it built before the semester started, and it will work well for a few years.

First step before building the box was to build the wooden frame to the piece of plexiglass to create a light, the name of the pane of glass on a cold frame. You want to make sure that the light fits the box snug.

Here’s the light constructed with the plexiglass attached to the wooden frame. I used braces on the joints to make sure it stays sturdy. I used a PVC-rated drill bit and drilled slowly into the plexiglass. The guy at the hardware store told me to leave the protective coating of plastic on the glass to help drill through it. If the protective layers are absent, he said a piece of tape would help to protect the glass from shattering when drilled.

A bolt and washer hold the plexiglass on the wooden frame, and to the right is a handle for the light.

I constructed the box out of two ten-foot long 2 × 12’s cut into two pieces—6 ft long for the front and back and 3 ft long for the sides. To create a slope on the top of the box to maximize sun exposure, I cut 4 in off one of the 6 ft boards to make it 8 in tall, and for the side boards, I cut a slant (1.3 in drop per 1 ft board length). Once constructed on the ground, the cold frame is turned over so that the front and back boards have a slight slant in one direction and so that the top is flush with the light. Notches made in the middle front and back allow the installation of a support beam.

With the ground cleared, a nice mulch of leaves will help to keep weeds down and support the trays to keep them from sitting on the ground.

Finished product!

It was a quick project and only took me 3 hours to make. The total cost of supplies was around $160 to cover 18 square feet (~8.90 per square foot), which is cheaper from most of the models on the market. If I could do it over again, I would try to figure out a way to reduce the size of the cross beams across the light that block some of the solar radiation. Soon, I’ll also add strips along the bottom of the frame to help protect the wood from rotting, which is another suggestion from Eliot Coleman’s design. I also want to attach the light to the box and cut a notched piece of wood to open the frame to the desired height during the day.

But, overall I’m pleased with how it turned out, and I look forward to having better success growing plants.

Natural Grafts

One of the questions I get about grafting is how in the world did people discover that you could take two different plants and combine their disparate tissues together?  

I think people of old knew grafting was possible because they had seen plant tissues recombine in nature.  Naturalists were outside surveying their environment, and from what they learned from nature, they applied that knowledge to grow plants better.  

---

We have a massive chinquapin oak (Quercus muehlenbergii) in our front yard in Tennessee.  A few years ago, I noticed for the first time in our thirty years of living there that it has a natural graft on the back side.  It is more unusual than most that I’ve seen because three branches come together.  

The winter frame of chinquapin oak

Thread this needle. On the back side of the tree is this natural graft where three branches have become one.

Here’s a side shot. You can see a branch behind curve up and down to merge with the other two branches.

These natural grafts have been known to occur for a long time.  This bulletin from Kew printed in 1917 (over 100 years ago!) describes the process well.  Branches rub off the outer bark in the wind, callus (wound) tissue forms, and eventually the tissues on the two limbs grow and conjoin together.  It is so fascinating to think about the process of how the vascular tissues of large branches can realign and to witness the products of a years-long process.  

Magnolia Seed, Spooky Stuff

“Have these things always looked like this?,” Karen asked with a hint of surprise in her voice.

Even though my back was turned as I stood at the kitchen sink, I knew exactly what had caught her eye.

A few days earlier I had plucked some ripe fruit from a Magnolia grandiflora in our yard that had colored up very nicely. They were easy to find on the ground and in the tree with their blushed, knobby appearance. I brought them indoors and was inspired to put them in a bowl on our table from seeing them top containers a few autumns ago at the Scott Arboretum. Such a clever use!

When I brought them inside, the fruiting bodies were sealed shut, but a few days in the house and the follicles on the aggregate structure started to split open and reveal their vermillion-colored seeds inside.

“They look like painted witch fingernails growing out of these things,” Karen continued. Both she and her sister who was visiting from out of town indicated they looked a bit freaky. It was nearing Halloween, and we had just watched Hocus Pocus a few nights earlier. I could see how seeds that magically appear overnight growing out of a structure could be a bit spooky and repulsive.

I, however, was delighted to see the seeds. We want more Magnolia trees on our property. Most years I’m too late getting to a tree to collect the little rubies because the birds and mammals get to the goods first. But, the propagules were right on my table for the picking.

In prepping for sowing in the past, I’ve removed the outer aril scrapping them with my own fingernails. However, one of the tricks I learned from reading Andrew Bunting’s book The Plant Lover’s Guide to Magnolias and a blog post he wrote during his tenure at the Scott Arboretum is soaking the seeds for three days in water will aid in removing the red arils that cover the surface along with any associated eeriness one might perceive.

Tonight, I plucked the last of the seeds from the follicles and plopped them into water-filled mason jars on our kitchen windowsill. After they’re cleaned, I’ll sow them in some damp growing media in a ziplock bag, stick it in the fridge for a couple of months to help overcome dormancy, and sow them in late winter.

I just hope no one confuses this batch in our fridge for chocolate cake mix.

Cone-like fruit of Magnolia top dress a container at the Scott Arboretum. You have to admit that the seeds emerging in the bottom left look a bit demonish.