Tag Archives: Narrow-Leaf Milkweed

Meals and sweet fields.

my garden, nature, , , ,

Who is likely to finish off the Narrow-Leaf milkweed?


Would it be the Monarch caterpillar or the aphids? That was my question last weekend, when Bea spotted the lone caterpillar, and we both took pictures of it. The next day it was still chewing away without any sense of impending scarcity. Unfortunately, that particular plant had volunteered to grow all on its lonesome, far from the clump of like species on the other side of the plum tree.

The following day, the cat was on the ground, but we propped it back up, between the leaves of Autumn Joy and a milkweed stem….

But the next day, it had disappeared. The few remaining milkweed leaves were left to the sucking insects. Maybe a bird had enjoyed our little friend for breakfast? It was nice to know you, little caterpillar….

A happier sight is nearby: Right there on the vast fields that are Autumn Joy flowers, can be found plenty of food for all the bees  — or hairstreaks — who want to come. And they do!

A Widow’s Weeds

my garden, poetry, wildflowers, , , ,

I doubt anyone would label me a “poor old widow,” but I can relate to many things in this little poem. It’s given me a brand new idea, too, of sewing in my garden. Today would be fine day for that…

A WIDOW’S WEEDS

A poor old Widow in her weeds
Sowed her garden with wild-flower seeds;
Not too shallow, and not too deep,
And down came April — drip — drip — drip.
Up shone May, like gold, and soon
Green as an arbour grew leafy June.
And now all summer she sits and sews
Where willow herb, comfrey, bugloss blows,
Teasle and tansy, meadowsweet,
Campion, toadflax, and rough hawksbit;
Brown bee orchis, and Peals of Bells;
Clover, burnet, and thyme she smells;
Like Oberon’s meadows her garden is
Drowsy from dawn till dusk with bees.
Weeps she never, but sometimes sighs,
And peeps at her garden with bright brown eyes;
And all she has is all she needs —-
A poor old Widow in her weeds.

-Walter de la Mare

Bee on Narrow-Leaf Milkweed

 

 

The wind blew pine needles down.

my garden, weather, , , , ,

Our weather here in my northern California county was slightly strange the last couple of days, I think because of being near to the path of the tropical storm Hilary. We had lots of clouds, and it felt like a storm was coming, but no show. I worked in the garden this afternoon and at one point felt the slightest mistiness in the atmosphere. The heat hung on last night longer than usual, but today was cooler; tomorrow is predicted to be back in the 80’s.

What happened at my place, though, was wind! So much, that the wind chimes were making a racket, and when I went out after lunch, the whole southern end of my back garden was covered by a blanket of pine needles, from the Canary Island Pine that towers above that area.

I spent quite a while dragging a trash can around and gathering up armfuls of the needles, picking them off the manzanita bush, the heuchera, lavender, everything. I didn’t get half of them yet.

Last week the lavender got pruned, and the garden generally was looking pretty tidy, until today. On the north side, now that the zinnias are blooming and greens are growing tall, the planter boxes are filling in.

Spurge is growing throughout those boxes, but it’s easy to pull out. It doesn’t look like it would take much water from the other plants, though.

And the Narrow-Leaf Milkweed is blessedly free of aphids so far. I adore its flowers. Every year, so far, these plants are decimated by aphids before they go into dormancy, but the next spring they always come back bigger and stronger than ever.

Last year I tried planting three new species of milkweed, and none of them was successful. The year of the Monarchs, I had a beautiful Tropical Milkweed plant, the leaves of which the caterpillars didn’t care for. I wasn’t surprised when it didn’t survive the winter. That makes a total of six types I have planted in the last several years. The two native Californian species have always thrived, so I think I will give up being milkweed-greedy and not try any others again. I don’t know where I’d plant them anyway! And it’s pretty wonderful to have milkweed at all. ❤