Guest Gardening at Chanticleer, Day One

A few years ago in 2016, I was asked to speak at the Millersville Native Plants in the Landscape Conference in Pennsylvania.  The Keystone State is one of my favorites to visit for its plethora of botanic gardens and natural beauty, and I was excited to return to the area having done a two month internship at The Scott Arboretum in Swarthmore, PA years before in 2008.

But, being half time at the university in the summer, I began to ponder if I couldn’t turn the trip into more.  The Sprout garden at SFA was in the early stages of what would become the Plantery, and I wanted to delve further into the inner workings of a different botanic garden.

So, I turned to Bill Thomas the executive director and head gardener at Chanticleer to see if I could shadow their team for a few days to not only improve our garden but also to be able to teach my students about different perspectives of horticultural craft.  In his reply, I was delighted to learn they had a guest gardener program where they welcomed professionals to learn more about the ins and outs of the garden.

For those of you who don’t know, Chanticleer is regarded as one of the top botanic gardens in the United States.  The way that plants and art and craft are woven together by such a talented team amazes me every time I visit.  Around every corner there is delight.  And, I’m not alone.  Just bring up Chanticleer in a conversation with plantspeople, and there’s bound to be some contented sighs, oohs, and ahhs thrown about.  

So, after my presentations at Millersville, I headed to Wayne, PA to shadow an incredible team of horticulturists.  I’m not going into great detail on the history of the garden because my main focus for the visit was to observe and learn about the minutiae of their craft.  Here are my notes from the first day.  I’ll have more to say in future posts.  

Day 1, Monday 20 June 2016

I started the morning walking the garden around sunrise and relishing the first day of summer.  I had visited Chanticleer a dozen times before, but this walk was different as I began to train my mind to absorb as much as I could since I would be here for a few days.  I had until 7:30 to explore as Bill had invited me to attend their staff meeting that morning. 

I had never noticed the wavy line of Calamagrostis × acutiflora ‘Karl Foerster’ through the tennis court garden. Here you can see that yellows were a unifying color in the garden.

I had never noticed the wavy line of Calamagrostis × acutiflora ‘Karl Foerster’ through the tennis court garden. Here you can see that yellows were a unifying color in the garden.

Calamagrostis × acutiflora ‘Karl Foerster’ was used as a good foil for other plants to pop against.

Calamagrostis × acutiflora ‘Karl Foerster’ was used as a good foil for other plants to pop against.

Those are some giant carrot skeletons.

Those are some giant carrot skeletons.

I loved this pathway in the vegetable garden. Not a weed to be seen!

I loved this pathway in the vegetable garden. Not a weed to be seen!

We’ve all thrown out the dormant plant (or two). I noted in the cold frames how smart it was to label barren trays so that gardeners still know there’s goods in them.

We’ve all thrown out the dormant plant (or two). I noted in the cold frames how smart it was to label barren trays so that gardeners still know there’s goods in them.

Their mass planting of Asparagus officinalis ‘Jersey Knight’ never the vegetable garden is sprinkled with flowering poppies.

Their mass planting of Asparagus officinalis ‘Jersey Knight’ never the vegetable garden is sprinkled with flowering poppies.

The combination of sensitive fern (Onoclea sensibilis) growing through prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis) was one of those simple yet brilliant combinations.

The combination of sensitive fern (Onoclea sensibilis) growing through prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis) was one of those simple yet brilliant combinations.

My 7:20 AM reminder on my phone went off, and I scurried toward the staff house. Upon entering, I saw a few friends but many new faces that I would get to know over the next few days.  Bill started the meeting.  It seemed less like he was their reigning authority but more like one of them as he let everyone go around and say something about what was going on that week.  Even the interns were allowed to share, and then they even let me say a few words!  It had a King Arthur and the round table of gardening knights feel to make everyone equals and important.   People discussed attendance and visitors, upcoming events, bulb orders needed to be in soon, how ash trees were being treated, and guests visiting this week.  Bill concluded the meeting by sharing that it had taken 14 years for Yucca rostrata to bloom in the gravel garden.  And, he reminded them with increasing publicity, there was more incentive to make sure the gardens looked good.  (I loved this approach and upon returning to Texas implemented this style of meeting with my students.)

The meeting of the minds that steward Chanticleer

The meeting of the minds that steward Chanticleer

The meeting broke up with people hastening off to their tasks for the day.  I would first be paired up with Dan Benarcik, a friend of mine who I had meet at trade shows past.  Dan is a consummate horticulturist, woodworker, and artist, all with a bit of cowboy flare, and it was great to get his behind the scenes perspective.  

We started with an overview of facilities from their Ventrac tractors that have interchangeable attachments to cover the diversity of work needed in the garden to their use of Kalwall glass to provide opaque lighting in buildings to reduce the need for lit bulbs.  We continued the discussion of sustainability in the greenhouse where Dan shared that water was collected and treated for watering the plants inside save for the propagation material.  The greenhouse was designed tall to allow for large display plants to be moved in and out.  And, for efficient storage of substrate, they had bins built to perfectly fit under a countertop so that they looked like drawers.

These Ventrac tractors were new to me. I very much liked the idea of a multi-tool.

These Ventrac tractors were new to me. I very much liked the idea of a multi-tool.

Kalwall glass helps reduce the need for lighting in buildings.

Kalwall glass helps reduce the need for lighting in buildings.

A clever way to hide your potting mix is to make faux cabinets.

A clever way to hide your potting mix is to make faux cabinets.

 
The greenhouse was built tall to allow overwintering of large tropicals. Dan Benarcik provides scale for the door.

The greenhouse was built tall to allow overwintering of large tropicals. Dan Benarcik provides scale for the door.

 

Dan and I headed to the picnic greenhouse to look at the containers inside.  He noted that since they didn’t want vines actually growing on the walls, they used high tensile fishing twine to allow the Passiflora to grow up.  That gave the effect that they were clambering up the walls.

 
I don’t even see the fishing line supporting these Passiflora vines.

I don’t even see the fishing line supporting these Passiflora vines.

 

From there, we took a short walk toward the vegetable garden where he showed me twenty-year-old ipe benches, one of the first pieces he built at Chanticleer.  The wood is incredibly long lasting.  But, one needs silica carbide blades to cut the wood, and the edges must be sanded because the are so sharp they will cut you!  Once we were up at the main house, Dan showed me more of his woodworking projects along the elevated walkway.  

Ipe benches must be moved every so often to allow the grass to get adequate sunshine.

Ipe benches must be moved every so often to allow the grass to get adequate sunshine.

Another one of Dan Benarcik’s incredible pieces. This one features a metal frame with wood panels.

Another one of Dan Benarcik’s incredible pieces. This one features a metal frame with wood panels.

Dan also wanted to show me their workshop where much of the hardscape crafting occurs.  On our way we saw Tim Snyder injecting kelp, fish hydrolysate, and yucca extract into soil to improve growing conditions. So, we paused and chatted with him for a bit about it.  Dan discussed how grounds manager Jeff Lynch had really helped develop the organic approach at Chanticleer and used several of these substances to improve plant growth.   

 
Tim Snyder is treating the soil with a blend of organics.

Tim Snyder is treating the soil with a blend of organics.

 

Once we were in the workshop, I was able to see where everything from fencing to handrails to chairs and benches were made for the garden.  Dan noted that much work went on during the winter when the garden was closed and the weather less accommodating.  

 
Dan Benarcik holds a birdhouse built for the garden.

Dan Benarcik holds a birdhouse built for the garden.

 
This flora fence was crafted by the gardeners at Chanticleer.

This flora fence was crafted by the gardeners at Chanticleer.

We returned to the entrance where my work began.  Dan asked me to go around and water containers and edit anything I found wrong with them.  I found the hose in a large, empty container, and thought what a brilliant way to hide that in plain site!  He said that he taught his assistants over the years to water every pot every day.  He builds in the appropriate drainage and doesn’t build finicky displays that are water hogs.  To make sure that the pots drain, he noted that he used everything including wooden stands, rubber, and Slovenian hockey pucks under them. Elevating the pots also air prunes the roots so they didn’t grow into the soil.  

The thing that I really took away from him was his spirit of being a great showman.  “We’re not growers; we’re presenters,” “make the magic happen,” and “we need to make it magic and memorable” were thrown out during our conversations, really hitting home his belief of using plants to engage visitors.  

A collection of containers greets visitors to Chanticleer. Note the wooden pot supports that aid with drainage.

A collection of containers greets visitors to Chanticleer. Note the wooden pot supports that aid with drainage.

 
A great example of Dan Benarcik’s approach to make the magic happen—cut pieces of Yucca arborea stuck in the ground give the effect of height early in the growing season.

A great example of Dan Benarcik’s approach to make the magic happen—cut pieces of Yucca arborea stuck in the ground give the effect of height early in the growing season.

 
Here’s a great idea on how to hide a hose. Put it in an empty container.

Here’s a great idea on how to hide a hose. Put it in an empty container.

After the day ended, I found Eric Hsu who helps curate the plant collections at Chanticleer walking with the interns along Bell’s Run and looking at the blinding mass of white Astilbe 'Deutschland’.   The staff told me that Eric had started teaching the interns plants with an ID walkabout for this week and an answer-on-the-fly quiz over plants covered last week.  Eric noted that this Astilbe was planted to help brighten this dark spot and provide a burst of color for contrast against the creek’s wilder plantings.  Even I started taking notes from him.  For example, a grass I admired on the rock ledge I learned was Stipa barbata, barbata meaning bearded and likely a reference to its plumes.

Bell’s Run is a creek that runs through the north side of Chanticleer. In the distance Astilbe 'Deutschland’ brightens the dark corner and draws the eye.

Bell’s Run is a creek that runs through the north side of Chanticleer. In the distance Astilbe 'Deutschland’ brightens the dark corner and draws the eye.

 
A close up of Astilbe 'Deutschland’ en masse

A close up of Astilbe 'Deutschland’ en masse

 
Eric Hsu (left) leads a plant id walk for Chanticleer interns.

Eric Hsu (left) leads a plant id walk for Chanticleer interns.

The graceful and airy Stipa barbata on the rock ledge

The graceful and airy Stipa barbata on the rock ledge

 
A close up of the panicles on Stipa barbata

A close up of the panicles on Stipa barbata

 

After their plant walk, I wandered around Chanticleer as the day came to a close. The day was full and I looked forward to what tomorrow would hold. Day two, coming soon.

The end of my first day guest gardening and one last look at the gravel garden at Chanticleer and the distant white-flowering Yucca rostrata that bloomed for the first time in 2016

The end of my first day guest gardening and one last look at the gravel garden at Chanticleer and the distant white-flowering Yucca rostrata that bloomed for the first time in 2016

Carex cherokeensis, Cherokee sedge

Ever since I learned of the concept of matrix species from Noel Kingsbury and Piet Oudolf’s book Planting: A New Perspective I have searched for and evaluated good ground covering plants for the southeast.  One that I have enjoyed getting to know better is Carex cherokeensis or Cherokee sedge.  

 
A snapshot of Carex cherokeensis in our modest grass and Carex trial at the Plantery at Stephen F. Austin State University.

A snapshot of Carex cherokeensis in our modest grass and Carex trial at the Plantery at Stephen F. Austin State University.

 

I first learned about this species when the Plantery conducted an informal trial of grasses and sedges at SFASU thanks to the help from the fine folks at Hoffman Nursery in Rougemont, NC.  Carex cherokeensis showed us it was a stalwart for east Texas.  In my naiveté, I didn’t realize it was native to our area until I found it growing along a roadside west of town.  And, then imagine my delight when I found three plants in a wet spot of my yard this past winter.  I chuckle when I think that we ordered plants from halfway across the country, and they were growing in my own backyard (literally!)

While the inflorescences are not very showy, closer inspection reveals there is a beauty to the dainty seedheads of Carex cherokeensis.

While the inflorescences are not very showy, closer inspection reveals there is a beauty to the dainty seedheads of Carex cherokeensis.

So, why do I like this living mulch?  For a variety of reasons.  The verdant foliage livens a dappled understory, and it tolerates full sun conditions like a champ with little burning.  It was also tolerate most soils save for those with heavy sand. From my encounters with Cherokee sedge in the wild, I noticed that it tends to occur as small, almost solo crowns. However, plant it in a bed, and it will form a nice cespitose clump.  It may sit there for a year, but be patient, and let it get established.  The inflorescences are not too conspicuous. They resemble inverted wheat ears and hang like thin beaded earrings above the foliage.  We do remove the whole peduncle after the seed have dropped. 

A mass of Carex cherokeensis

A mass of Carex cherokeensis

The students used this Carex in our food prairies in the Sprout garden, and we have slowly watched over the past three years as it has colonized open spaces with rhizome and seed.  We mow it once a year in early January when we cut back our plantings to prepare for spring bulbs to emerge. It divides well, too.  I regularly have students divide a few plants early in the semester for a primer on division and then use it in later exercises on grading propagule sizes.   

This past year, I tried propagating it from seed at home.  I collected seed from my Texas germplasm last spring and stratified it for a couple months.  I sowed it in a flat outdoors last fall and waited.  After a few weeks, I noticed a couple of green slivers popping up out of the soil but only a few.  At first I wondered what I did wrong and why more weren’t germinating.  Later, I saw that the tray had more, and eventually I came to realize that it seemed as if a few new ones were germinating each month.  

Grading Carex cherokeensis seedlings at my house. These were large enough to pot on.

Grading Carex cherokeensis seedlings at my house. These were large enough to pot on.

The rest were allowed to remain in the tray to bulk up. Again, notice how some are barely up while others have some size to them.

The rest were allowed to remain in the tray to bulk up. Again, notice how some are barely up while others have some size to them.

I’m not sure if it’s an effect of my sowing efforts or the plant’s staggered germination biology.  Either way, I’m happy to have about 50 more plants to add to my landscape of this great Carex species.  

I spy with my little eye, Spigelia

I shrieked as my truck came to a sudden stop.  

“What is it?!” Karen said after jumping out of her skin.    

“Spigelia marilandica!!!” I exclaimed.  

“I thought you had hit something in the road,” she said with a bit of consternation in her voice.  

I apologized.  It was just that I had never seen this incredible native in the wild!  

 
I spy with my little eye something red. Note the abnormal flower on the right with six yellow lobes. Most have five.

I spy with my little eye something red. Note the abnormal flower on the right with six yellow lobes. Most have five.

 

I pulled my truck off to the side of the broken back road and hopped out to walk over to the forest edge.  Camera trained on the flower, I snapped away in delight.  How lucky was I finding this ruby in the rough four miles from our house.  And, since it was early May 2018, a few weeks earlier or later and I might have missed this spectacle.  

Eventually, I got back up to walk to the truck.  I gazed down the road with the dark forest on the left and bright pasture on the right.  In the glare from the sun, I noticed a few more red flowers just down the lane and smiled in delight.  There were more than just this one! And, as my eye traced the road edge further, I began to make out hundreds of the little slivers of crimson that graced the north-facing forested slope.  My jaw dropped.  I had hit the Indian pink jackpot.  

I got to know this wonderful wildflower better through my friend Jimmy Williams.  In a similar discovery as mine, he drove around all day in Henry County, Tennessee until he found a solitary flower growing in a roadside ditch.  He saved that plant from the mower blades and cultivated it into several clumps in his red border.  He has so many he was even able to share a plant with me that’s still back at my parent’s home in Tennessee.  

 
Spigelia marilandica in the foreground here provides color in Jimmy William’s red border in Paris, TN between the spring and summer flowering gap.

Spigelia marilandica in the foreground here provides color in Jimmy William’s red border in Paris, TN between the spring and summer flowering gap.

 

But, I was quite surprised to find it here in the wild in Texas.  I guess having never even seen it in situ I really didn’t know what its range or its habitat was.   

However, one thing I did know is that the plant wasn’t pink.  No, it seems to have been adorned with the same name as pinks or members of the Caryophyllaceae family that appear to have their petals clipped by pinking shears.  But, Spigelia isn’t even in the same family (it’s in Loganiaceae) or even order, and yet it has the same froufrou name.  Go figure. 

I liberated a few clumps from the roadside that day to take back to my house.  They were growing in gravel tailings, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before a grader would come along and do them in.   I planted them near our house because I was afraid that deer would come along and nibble them down.  I’ve since learned that’s probably not too big a concern due to the presence of toxic alkaloids in the leaves.  

Spigelia marilandica flowering just behind our house.

Spigelia marilandica flowering just behind our house.

The next spring, I was delighted as my plants came back and bloomed heavier than any of the clumps I saw the previous year on that shaded hillside.  I chuckle now reading accounts about how this plant needs TLC, woodland edge, and moisture.   Mine are planted on a north facing slope in sandy fill soil and receive over half a day of full sun that burns other shade lovers I’ve tried in the same spot.  And, y’all, this is in Texas.  

One plant is lovely in bloom, but en masse the floral effect is spectacular.  I’ve notice over the years in large plantings at botanic gardens that there can be quite the range of colors in flowers from seed-derived plants, everything from a dark crimson to a light salmon. Even bloom time varies within a population.  My small grouping of six plants seemed to exhibit a range of genetics, too.  

How spectacular is this mass of Indian pink in Bell’s Woodland at Chanticleer in Wayne, Pennsylvania?

How spectacular is this mass of Indian pink in Bell’s Woodland at Chanticleer in Wayne, Pennsylvania?

The variation in color in Spigelia marilandica is apparent in this seedling-derived population in a dry creek bed.

The variation in color in Spigelia marilandica is apparent in this seedling-derived population in a dry creek bed.

 
While most Spigelia marilandica vary in their color of red, this pink Indian pink in my garden is a testament to their color variation. Note this individual’s lack of red in the developing flowers on this cyme. I’m monitoring it because along with t…

While most Spigelia marilandica vary in their color of red, this pink Indian pink in my garden is a testament to their color variation. Note this individual’s lack of red in the developing flowers on this cyme. I’m monitoring it because along with the lack of color there seems to be something off about the way the flowers open.

 

And, being planted near where I sit, I’ve enjoyed watching Ruby-throated Hummingbirds dart through the Indian pinks.  They and the flower have enjoyed a long dance of coevolution, the flower preferring the lead of the bird over the bee, evidenced by evolving the long, tubular red flowers.  Yes, I was quite happy with myself to see my transplants doing so well.  

I gasp as I sped up a bit on the same broken back road.

“This is not good,” I said to Karen who was joining me on yet another backroads excursion.

On either side of the pavement there wasn’t a leaf to be found.  It was August 2019, and while the month can certainly be a scorcher, this blight was from herbicide.  

I pulled along side where my precious Spigelia had been blooming only months earlier.  The curtain of foliage that was there had been removed and I could see deeper into the woods than I ever had.  And, there wasn’t a single Spigelia plant on the roadside edge to be found.  I was crushed.  

It kills me when road crews blanket herbicide.  I understand keeping the right-of-ways in check, but what was so bad about this hillside that needed to be controlled?  Did I need to put a sign up that said, “Only known county record of Spigelia marilandica”?  I found myself thinking about how glad I was that I did move those six plants to my house, and I drove off anxious to see this population next spring.

This month, I revisited the site, and I’m happy to report that there are still Indian pink on the hillside.  In fact, after some snooping I’ve come to realize that the population is quite safe as there are hundreds on the slope further up from the road.  I guess with such a thick edge I wasn’t able to see the Spigelia for the forest.  And, somehow even a few plants remained on the road edge.  A few show a bit of herbicide residue from their curling leaves and stunted growth.  

I’m happy that this population of Spigelia marilandica is safe from roadside spraying. This snapshot is only a few of the hundreds of plants growing on the hillside.

I’m happy that this population of Spigelia marilandica is safe from roadside spraying. This snapshot is only a few of the hundreds of plants growing on the hillside.

But, this time I didn’t take any chances.  I rescued several clumps from the ditch that I had passed over previously, and they have since joined their brothers and sisters at my house.  Plants as good as this deserve to live and flourish without want or worry from county road maintenance.

Keep Calm and Garden On

It was a simple graphic I found.  The message “Keep Calm and Garden On” was printed in the vintage British-style World War II poster with a watering can on it.  I thought it would be a nice image to share on Facebook with the first dominos of COVID-19 beginning to fall with the closing of universities and churches. I pushed post and sent it off into cyberspace.  

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Within a week, this image had over a thousand shares.  I was blown away.  I realized there is something about that message.  Keeping calm.  And, gardening on.

I remember my first semester as a graduate student sitting in a statistics night class on September 29, 2008.  Earlier that day, the stock market had crashed, and the class was a flurry with conversations about the dismal news.  There was uncertainty about what would happen. 

But, being a fledgling horticulture master’s student, I heard discussions about people gardening—accounts of first time planters who had never grown anything in their life suddenly had a plot out back or a few containers on their patio.  And, from my attending trade shows, people were talking about the rise of edible gardening.

I remember that like yesterday. That in this time of trouble, people turned to gardening. When people loose so much, they go back to the basics of life.  It is hard to visualize an investment portfolio, but one can see plants and food that’s tangible, real, and in reach growing in the backyard.  

Here we are yet again with another crisis on our hands. It is very different from the last one, and yet we hear stories of germinating gardening interest and seed companies overwhelmed with orders. A rule of mother nature is that she cannot tolerate bare soil after a disturbance.  Perhaps it is a rule of humanity that human nature can’t either in a crisis?  We seem to have this pattern as humans.  Just like when hardship befalls us and we want to call Mom and Dad or fall into a friend’s arms, in crises we return to the earth.

But, why?  I had often heard people speak of this gardening roller coaster, but it was anecdotal. I hadn’t seen good literature on the subject until I sat on a graduate student’s dissertation committee a few years back.  In her writing Jheri-Lynn McSwain cited a thesis by Joshua Birky where he made the case that gardening and crises are connected.   And, while the below quote focuses on community gardens, I believe that it also holds true of backyards or balconies.

“It can be seen that throughout the history of the U.S. movements, many forms of community gardens have often been looked at as undesirable landforms necessary only in times of great disturbance or social need; they are seen as the refuge of only the poor, homeless and unemployed. These gardens have many times been a common reaction to a societal feeling of panic or desperation when it is believed that life within the city, or the nation as a whole, is being threatened. Yet once the war is over or the unemployment rate decreases, the “normal” faces of urban design take over and the gardens are once again lost until the next disaster arises.  

This pattern can be recognized by realizing that each spike of public or governmental interest in community or allotment gardens within the U.S. (and to a large extent with in the U.K.) generally follows a crisis period. Although easily comparable quantitative data for each one of these spikes is not available, studies do suggest that as public and governmental interest in community and allotment gardening increases, so does the number of gardens. Given this information, the histories of both the U.S. and the U.K. and further anecdotal evidence, we can conclude that there have been approximately eight major crises and seven major spikes (within the U.K. and the U.S). These crises and spikes include – two reactions to poor wages and living conditions in 1790s (U.K.); reaction to the swing riots of 1830 (U.K.); reaction to poor conditions and unemployment in the 1890s (U.S.); reaction to World War I (U.S. and U.K.); reaction to the great depression (U.S. and U.K.); reaction to World War II (U.S. and U.K.); and reaction to marginalization, oil shortages and environmental hazards in the 1970s (U.S.). The current movement has been steadily growing since the 1970s with slight reductions during the 1980s due to pulled government funding and support.”
— Joshua Birky

So, there you have it. In hard times we cultivate creation, only to drop our plowshares once life stabilizes. And, then the pattern repeats.

While gardening has become more hip in recent times and I believe less viewed as “undesirable landforms” that is just “refuge of only the poor, homeless, and unemployed” as in times past, there is still something that causes the post-crisis gardening spike to drop once the good times return. Perhaps priorities shift back. Perhaps these people see that gardening has its own issues—deer, rabbits, weeds, fungi, viruses, boar, gophers, flooding, and ultimately plant death—and it’s just as easy to go to the store and buy that head of lettuce. Perhaps people just don’t want to work that hard. Yes, I’m not afraid to say that gardening is work. It is incredibly fun, life fulfilling, and passionate work, but it’s work. There are days that I collapse from having done so much only to get up the next day and go again. And, I’m gardening for fun, not necessarily just for survival!

Or, perhaps we all have a bit of prodigal son in us. Garden does come from the old English geard, meaning fence or enclosure. Back centuries ago, walled gardens were viewed as safe havens from the wild beyond. And, maybe it is just part of our nature to venture out from growing plants for survival when things are well in the world to engage with the lavish trinkets of life only to return home of cultivating the earth when things go bad again.

Whatever the reason, I want to unlink the crisis and the garden. To tear down those fences and make gardening an integral part of life. I believe that is our role as plantspeople. To help those that are just starting. To rear the seedling gardeners and help them stretch towards the light. To encourage and promote and educate and cheer them on. To share plants and to share knowledge, even if it is difficult with social distancing.

This pandemic is a crisis, and I pray, hope, and truly believe that we will make it out of this winter to find a rich and rewarding spring on the other side. But, I don’t want us to forget plants and the life that they gave to all of us while we were struggling, this time or the many times before this crisis.

So, let’s keep calm and garden on. We’ll be here again one day. We might as well keep the practice up.

Even Assassin Bugs Need Something Sweet

I was out photographing plants the other evening when something caught my eye.  It was Zelus longipes—a milkweed assassin bug—slowly crawling across the corymb of Achillea millefolium.  These are such great insects to have in the garden because they prey upon many pests.  Fun fact on their feeding behavior—they stick their stylet into their prey and release digesting enzymes, and then they suck their nourishment out of the exoskeleton shell. What a way to go!

I retrained my camera lens from flowers to this insect as I like to use my own photos of good (sadistic!?!) bugs in the garden when educating folks.  But, then it did something unexpected.  It lowered its head into one of the flowers.  And, then another.  And, then another!   

I guess when the milkweed assassin bug isn’t digesting its prey it needs something else to feed on.

I guess when the milkweed assassin bug isn’t digesting its prey it needs something else to feed on.

I was so surprised to see it feeding on nectar. It seems I’m not the first person to document this behavior.  

I have long heard that Achillea millefolium is a wonderful native to grow in your garden for insects, and this observation further strengthens that case.  We never know all the good—and schadenfreude when I think of all the bad bugs this creature will eat—that can come from having a diverse planting.