Tea Time: Pine Needle Teas

Temperatures are cooling in the northern hemisphere, which has me looking forward to drinking more hot tea. Making tea is a simple way to try edible plants you’ve never tried before, which I have demonstrated in past posts about pineapple weed and chicory. Believe it or not, I’m interested in trying teas made from other plants besides weeds, which has led me to start a new series of posts. It’s tea time!

When you think of a pine tree, your first thought probably isn’t, “Hey, I could make some tea out of that.” Sure, pine trees are known for their pleasant scent; however, do you really want a tea that tastes like a Christmas tree or smells like the cleanser you mop your floors with? A mouthful of pine needles just doesn’t sound that appetizing. Luckily, tea made with pine needles has a considerably milder aroma and flavor than you might initially expect.

the needles of Japanese red pine (Pinus densiflora)

Pines actually have a number of edible parts. Young, male cones can be boiled and eaten, pine pollen can be used in a number of ways, and roasted pine seeds (also known as pine nuts) are commonly consumed and used to make things like pesto and hummus. In addition, the inner bark, sap, and resin all have a history of being used as food and medicine. So, why not the needles?

However, it should be noted that turpentine comes from pine trees, which is quite toxic if ingested or used improperly. Turpentine is made by distilling the sap and resins found in pine trees. The high concentration of the chemical compounds found in these products is what results in turpentine’s toxicity.

Another caveat is that the word “pine” is used as a common name for a few species that are not in the genus Pinus and thus are not true pines. Also, coniferous trees and shrubs are frequently referred to as or thought of as pines by people who aren’t in the know. Hence, always make sure that you positively identify any and all plant species before you consume them. Additionally, various sources advise avoiding the consumption of ponderosa pine (Pinus ponderosa) and a handful of other pines, which may in fact be perfectly safe in moderation, but the counsel is worth keeping in mind.

To drill these points home, consider this passage from The North American Guide to Common Poisonous Plants and Mushrooms:

Most [conifers] would be too strong-tasting and unpalatable to eat, but many can be used safely as flavorings or to make beverages and medicinal teas, as long as they are taken in moderation and in low concentrations. Exceptions are the yews (Taxus spp.), which are highly toxic, and ponderosa pine, a tree of dry western forests with long needles usually in clusters of three. Some indigenous people ate the inner bark and seeds of this pine, but they knew that pregnant women should not chew on the buds or needles because it would cause a miscarriage. Eating the foliage of this pine is known to cause abortion in late-term pregnant cattle and other livestock due to the presence of isocupressic acid, which has also been found in lodgepole pine (P. contorta) and Jeffrey pine (P. jeffreyi). Other pines, such as loblolly pine (P. taeda) of the southeastern United States should also be regarded with caution.

I chose to make tea from the needles of two species that have a long history of being used for this purpose: Korean or Japanese red pine (Pinus densiflora) and eastern white pine (Pinus strobus). Pinus densiflora occurs in Korea and Japan, as well as parts of China and Russia, and has been given the name red pine thanks to its attractive red-orange bark. It produces needles in bundles of two and is a member of the subgenus Pinus, also known as the hard pines. Pinus strobus occurs mainly in the northeastern corner of the United States and the southeastern corner of Canada. It’s a member of the soft pines (subgenus Strobus) and produces needles in bundles of five. Both of these trees (and various cultivars of them) are commonly grown ornamentally outside of their native ranges.

the bark of Japanese red pine (Pinus densiflora)

To make the tea, I collected a handful of needles, chopped them in half or thirds and steeped them in hot water. Various sources that I read said not to boil the needles. The teas had a mild pine scent and a light citrusy flavor. I first made a tea from eastern white pine needles and accidentally added too much water. On my second try, using Korean red pine needles, I got the ratio better, and the tea didn’t taste so watered down. Some people add honey to pine needle tea, which I didn’t try this time around because I wanted to experience the taste of the needles. However, I think honey would be a nice addition.

Younger needles are said to be better than older needles for making tea, and I imagine that the time of year that the needles are harvested could have an impact on the flavor. The age of the needles likely determines, in part, its amount of vitamin C as well. Pine needle tea is said to be high in Vitamin C, which is another reason to give it a try.

the needles of eastern white pine (Pinus strobus)

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Drought Tolerant Plants: Yellowhorn

A drought tolerant garden doesn’t have to be treeless. While the pickings are slim, there is a selection of trees that, once established, are well adapted to deal with extended bouts of little to no water. One such tree is yellowhorn, a species that demands to be considered for any waterwise landscape. Yellowhorn is rare in cultivation – and also restricted in its natural distribution – but perhaps that will change as word gets around about this beautiful and resilient tree.

Xanthoceras sorbifolium is native to several provinces in northern China and has been cultivated in a number of places outside of China since at least the 1800’s. Its ethnobotanical value is well understood in China. Its leaves, flowers, and seeds are edible and medicinal, and the high oil content of its seeds make them useful for the production of biofuels. Researchers are also investigating the use of yellowhorn for ecological restoration in arid habitats where desertification is a concern.

yellowhorn in bloom

Yellowhorn is the only species in the genus Xanthoceras, but is one in a long list of trees and shrubs in the Sapindaceae family – a family that now includes maples and horse chestnuts. It is considered both a large shrub and a small, multi-stemmed tree. It reaches a maximum height of about 25 feet, but arrives there at a relatively slow pace. It tolerates a variety of soil types, but like most other drought tolerant plants, it prefers soils that don’t become waterlogged easily. Its leaves are long, glossy green, and compound, consisting of 9 – 17 leaflets. The leaves persist late into the year and turn yellow in the fall. However, late spring, when the tree is covered in flowers, is when this tree puts on its real show.

Large white flowers with yellow-green centers that turn maroon or red-orange as they age are produced on racemes at the ends of branches. Small, yellow, hornlike appendages between each of the five petals of the flowers are what gives the tree its common name. Flowering lasts for a couple weeks, after which fruits form, which are about 2.5 inches wide, tough, leathery, and somewhat pear shaped. In my experience, most of the fruits are eaten by squirrels long before they get a chance to reach maturity. The ones the squirrels don’t get will persist on the tree, harden, and eventually split open to reveal several large, dark, round seeds nestled in chambers within the fruit.

To truly appreciate this tree, it must be seen in person, especially in bloom. At that point you will demand to have one (or more) in your garden. The seeds are said to be delicious, so you should give them a try if you can beat the squirrels to them. For a more thorough overview of yellowhorn, check out this article from Temperate Climate Permaculture, and for more photos of yellowhorn in bloom, check out this post from Rotary Botanical Gardens.

Squirrel nesting in yellowhorn, getting ready to go after more fruits.

All photos in this post were taken at Idaho Botanical Garden in Boise, Idaho.

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More Drought Tolerant Plants Posts:

Awkward Botanical Sketches #3: The Ginkgo Edition

For most of my life, ginkgo has been a meaningful tree to me. I remember first learning about it as a fourth grader. Our teacher had assigned us each to make a leaf collection. My grandparents heard about my assignment and sent me a ginkgo leaf from a tree growing in their front yard. It was unlike any other leaf in my collection, and it had a fascinating back story. Not only is it the only living tree in its genus and family, it’s also the only extant species in its division (Ginkgophyta). It was around during the time of the dinosaurs, and is considered a living fossil. I felt honored to have it, especially when I learned that I was the only kid in the class that had one.

Since then I’ve considered Ginkgo biloba to be one of the best trees. It continues to fascinate me. It’s a beautiful tree with captivating foliage, and it’s resiliency is amazing. It’s no wonder that depictions of ginkgo are so common across many cultures.

Since I love looking at ginkgo leaves, I decided to try to draw them. If you’ve been following this series of posts, you’ll remember that my drawing skills are severely lacking. A shape as simple as a ginkgo leaf should be easy to draw, but not for me. I resorted first to tracing leaves that I had pressed, and then going from there. Below are some of my results.

Ginkgo biloba leaf rubbing inspired by a page in Gayla Trail’s book, Grow Curious. After several attempts, this was the best I could do.

Finally, a freehand drawing of a cluster of ginkgo leaves in my pocket notebook in celebration of Staple Day.

Some ginkgo leaves I mailed to the Smithsonian for their Fossil Atmospheres research project.

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Eating Weeds: Chicory

Over the course of human history, plant species once esteemed or considered useful have been recategorized into something less desirable. For one reason or another, plants fall out of favor or wear out their welcome, and, in come cases, are found to be downright obnoxious, ultimately losing their place in our yards and gardens. The particularly troublesome ones are branded as weeds, and put on our “do not plant” lists. These plants are not only unfavored, they’re despised. But being distinguished as a weed doesn’t necessary negate a plant’s usefulness. It’s likely that the plant still has some redeeming characteristics. We’ve just chosen instead to pay more attention its less redeeming ones.

Chicory is a good example of a plant like this. At one point in time, Cichorium intybus had a more prominent place in our gardens, right alongside dandelions in fact. European colonizers first introduced chicory to North America in the late 1700’s. Its leaves were harvested for use as a salad green and its roots were used to make a coffee additive or substitute. Before that, cultivation of chicory for these and other purposes had been going on across Europe for thousands of years, and it still goes on today to a certain extent. Along with other chicory varieties, a red-leafed form known as radicchio and a close cousin known as endive (Chicorium endivia) are grown as specialty crops, occassionally finding their way into our fanciest of salads.

Radicchio di Chioggia (Cichorium intybus var. foliosum) is a cultivated variety of chicory. (via wikimedia commons)

Chicory’s tough, adaptable nature and proclivity to escape cultivation have helped it become widespread, making itself at home in natural areas as well as urban and rural settings. Its perennial life history helps make it a fixture in the landscape. It sends down a long, sturdy taproot and settles in for the long haul. It tolerates dry, compacted soils with poor fertility and doesn’t shy away from roadside soils frequently scoured with salts. It’s as though it was designed to be a city weed.

Unlike many other perennial weeds, chicory doesn’t spread vegetatively. It starts its life as a seed, blown in from a nearby plant. After sprouting, it forms a dandelion-esque rosette of leaves during its first year. Wiry, branched stems rise up from the rosette in following years, reaching heights of anywhere from about a foot to 5 or 6 feet. When broken, leaves, stems, and roots ooze a milky sap. Abundant flowers form along the gangly stems. Like other plants in the aster family, each flower head is composed of multiple flowers. Chicory flower heads are all ray flowers, lacking the disc flowers found in the center of other plants in this family. The petals are a brilliant blue – sometimes pink or white. Individual flowers last less than a day and are largely pollinated by bees. The fruits lack the large pappus found on dandelions and other close relatives, but the seeds are still dispersed readily with the help of wind, animals, and human activity.

chicory (Cichorium intybus) via wikimedia commons

The most commonly consumed portions of chicory are its leaves and roots. Its flowers and flower buds are also edible. Young leaves and blanched leaves are favored because they are the least bitter. Excluding the leaves from light by burying or covering them up keeps them pale and reduces their bitter flavor. This is standard practice in the commercial production of certain chicory varieties. The taproots of chicory are dried, roasted, and ground for use as a coffee substitute. They are also harvested commercially for use as a natural sweetener due to their high concentration of inulin.

my puny chicory root

I harvested a single puny chicory root in order to make tea. On my bike ride to work there is a small, sad patch of chicory growing in the shade of large trees along the bike path. I was only able to pull one plant up by the roots. The others snapped off at the base. So, I took my tiny root, dried and roasted it in the oven, and ground it up in a coffee grinder. I followed instructions for roasting found on this website, but there are many other sources out there. I had just enough to make one small cup of tea, which reminded me of dandelion root teas I have had. Sierra found it to be very bitter, and I agreed but still enjoyed it. I figure that wild plants, especially those growing in stressful conditions like mine was, are likely to be more bitter and strong tasting compared to coddled, cultivated ones found in a garden.

roasted chicory root

roasted and ground chicory root

When I find a larger patch of feral chicory, I hope to try one of several recipes included in Luigi Ballerini’s book, A Feast of Weeds, as well as other recipes out there. I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes.

Are you curious to know how chicory became such a successful weed in North America? Check out this report in Ecology and Evolution to learn about the genetic explanation behind chicory’s success.

Seed Dispersal by Way of Tree Climbing Goats

Goats are surprisingly good climbers. Given the opportunity, they’ll climb just about anything, including each other. So what’s stopping them from climbing a tree, especially if there is something up there they can eat? And so they do. Tree climbing goats are such a fascinating sight, they even have their own calendar. But the story doesn’t end there. The goats find food in the trees, entertaining humans as they go; meanwhile, the trees have a reliable partner in the goats, who inadvertently help disperse the tree’s seeds.

In general, goats don’t need to climb trees to find food. Goats aren’t known to be picky eaters, and there is usually plenty for them to eat at ground level. However, in arid climates where food can become limited, ascending trees to eat foliage and fruits is a matter of survival. This is the case in southwestern Morocco, where goats can be found in the tops of argan trees every autumn gorging on the fruits of this desert tree.

goats in Argania spinosa via wikimedia commons

Argan (Argania spinosa) is a relatively short tree with a sprawling canopy and thorny branches. It is the only species in its genus and is endemic to parts of Morocco and neighboring Algeria. The tree is economically important to the area due to the oil-rich seeds found within its bitter fruits. Argan oil has a variety of culinary uses and is also used medicinally and in cosmetics. To get to the oil, goats are often employed in harvesting the fruits. The goats retrieve the fruits from the tops of the trees and consume their fleshy outer layer. The hard, seed-containing pits are expelled, collected, and cracked open to get to the seeds.

This is where a team of researchers from Europe come in. There has been some confusion as to how the pits are expelled, with some reports claiming that they pass through the goats digestive track and are deposited in their manure. This is a common way for the seeds of many other plant species to be dispersed, and is carried out not only by goats and other ruminants, but also by a wide variety of mammals, as well as birds and even reptiles. However, considering the average size of the pits (22 mm long x 15 mm wide), the researchers thought this to be unlikely.

fruits of Argania spinosa via wikimedia commons

Others reported that the seeds were spat out in the goats’ cud while they ruminated. Goats, like other ruminants, have stomachs composed of multiple compartments, the first of which being the rumen. Partially digested food, known as cud, is sent back into the mouth from the rumen for further chewing and may be spat out or swallowed again. Goats are known to ruminate in the same location that they defecate, which results in confusion as to when and how certain seeds, like those of the argan tree, are deposited.

By feeding various fruits to a group of goats, the researchers were able to test the hypothesis that seeds could be regurgitated and spat from the cud and that this is a viable method of seed dispersal. The researchers reported that larger seeds were more commonly spat out than smaller seeds, but that “almost any seed could be ejected during, mastication, spat from the cud, digested, or defecated.” The viability of spat out seeds was tested, and over 70% of them were found to be viable.

pits and seeds of Argania spinosa via wikimedia commons

This discovery suggests that seed dispersal via spitting by ruminants could be a common occurrence – possibly far more common than previously considered. The researchers postulate that studies that have only considered seeds dispersed in manure “may have underestimated an important fraction of the total number of dispersed seeds” and that the seeds spat from the cud likely represent different species from those commonly dispersed in dung. In addition, the seeds of some species don’t survive the digestive tract of ruminants, so “spitting from the cud may represent their only, or at least their main, dispersal mechanism.”

This study surrounding the argan trees was followed up by the same group of researchers with a literature review that was published last month. The review looked into all available studies that mentioned seed dispersal via regurgitation by ruminants. While they considered over 1000 papers, only 40 published studies were found to be relevant for the review. From these studies, they determined that the seeds of 48 plant species (representing 21 different families) are dispersed by being spat from a ruminant’s cud, and that most of these plant species are trees and shrubs whose fruits contain large seeds. Also of note is that ruminants across the globe are doing this – representatives from 18 different genera were mentioned in the studies.

ruminating goat via wikimedia commons

The researchers conclude that this is a “neglected” mechanism of seed dispersal. It’s difficult to observe, and in many cases it hasn’t even been considered. Like so many other animals, ruminants can disperse seeds in a variety of ways. Seeds can attach to their fur and be transported wherever they go. They can pass through their digestive track and end up in their dung, potentially far from where they were first consumed. And, as presented here, they can be spat out during rumination. Investigations involving all of these mechanisms and the different plant species involved will allow us to see, in a much clearer way, the role that ruminants play in the dispersal of seeds.

Idaho’s Native Milkweeds (Updated)

As David Epstein said in an interview on Longform Podcast, “Any time you write about science, somethings is going to be wrong; the problem is you don’t know what it is yet, so you better be ready to update your beliefs as you learn more.” Thanks to the newly published Guide to the Native Milkweeds of Idaho by Cecilia Lynn Kinter, lead botanist for Idaho Department of Fish and Game, I’ve been made aware of some things I got wrong in the first version of this post. I appreciate being corrected though, because I want to get things right. What follows is an updated version of the original post. The most substantial change is that there are actually five milkweed species native to Idaho rather than six. Be sure to check out Kinter’s free guide to learn more about this remarkable group of plants.

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Concern for monarch butterflies has resulted in increased interest in milkweeds. Understandably so, as they are the host plants and food source for the larval stage of these migrating butterflies. But milkweeds are an impressive group of plants in their own right, and their ecological role extends far beyond a single charismatic insect. Work to save the monarch butterfly, which requires halting milkweed losses and restoring milkweed populations, will in turn provide habitat for countless other organisms. A patch of milkweed teems with life, and our pursuits to protect a single caterpillar invite us to explore that.

Asclepias – also known as the milkweeds – is a genus consisting of around 140 species, 72 of which are native to the United States and Canada. Alaska and Hawaii are the only states in the U.S. that don’t have a native species of milkweed. The ranges of some species native to the United States extend down into Mexico where there are numerous other milkweed species. Central America and South America are also home to many distinct milkweed species. Asclepias species found in southern Africa are considered by many to actually belong in the genus Gomphocarpus.

The habitats milkweeds occupy are about as diverse as the genus itself – from wetlands to prairies, from deserts to forests, and practically anywhere in between. Some species occupy disturbed and/or neglected sites like roadsides, agricultural fields, and vacant lots. For this reason they are frequently viewed as a weed; however, such populations are easily managed, and with such an important ecological role to play, they don’t deserve to be vilified in this way.

Milkweed species are not distributed across the United States evenly. Texas and Arizona are home to the highest diversity with 37 and 29 species respectively. Idaho, my home state, is on the low end with five native species. The most abundant species found in Idaho is Asclepias speciosa, commonly known as showy milkweed.

showy milkweed (Asclepias speciosa)

Showy milkweed is distributed from central U.S. westward and can be found in all western states. It occurs throughout Idaho and is easily the best place to look for monarch caterpillars. In fact, the monarch butterfly is Idaho’s state insect, thanks in part to the abundance of showy milkweed, which is frequently found growing in large colonies due to its ability to reproduce vegetatively via adventitious shoots produced on lateral roots or underground stems. Only a handful of milkweed species reproduce this way. Showy milkweed reaches up to five feet tall and has large ovate, gray-green leaves. Like all milkweed species except one (Asclepias tuberosa), its stems and leaves contain milky, latex sap. In early summer, the stems are topped with large umbrella-shaped inflorescences composed of pale pink to pink-purple flowers.

The flowers of milkweed deserve a close examination. Right away you will notice unique features not seen on most other flowers. The petals of milkweed flowers bend backwards, which would otherwise allow easy access to the flower’s sex parts if it wasn’t for a series of hoods and horns protecting them. Collectively, these hoods and horns are called the corona, which houses glands that produce abundant nectar and has a series of slits where the anthers are exposed. The pollen grains of milkweed are contained in waxy sacs called pollinia. Two pollinia are connected together by a corpusculum giving this structure a wishbone appearance. An insect visiting the flower for nectar slips its leg into the slit, and the pollen sacs become attached with the help of the corpusculum. When the insect leaves, the pollen sacs follow. Pollination is successful when the pollen sacs are inadvertently deposited on the stigmas of another flower.

Milkweed flowers are not self-fertile, so they require assistance by insects to sexually reproduce. They are not picky about who does it either, and their profuse nectar draws in all kinds of insects including bees, butterflies, moths, beetles, wasps, and ants. Certain insects – like bumble bees and other large bees – are more efficient pollinators than others. Once pollinated, seeds are formed inside a pod-like fruit called a follicle. The follicles of showy milkweed can be around 5 inches long and house dozens to hundreds of seeds. When the follicle matures, it splits open to release the seeds, which are small, brown, papery disks with a tuft of soft, white, silky hair attached. The seeds of showy milkweed go airborne in late summer.

follicles forming on showy milkweed (Asclepias speciosa)

Whorled or narrowleaf milkweed (Asclepias fascicularis) occurs across western and southern Idaho. Its distribution continues into neighboring states. It is adapted to dry locations, but can be found in a variety of habitats. Like showy milkweed, it spreads rhizomatously as well as by seed. It’s a whispy plant that reaches one to three feet tall and occasionally taller. It has long, narrow leaves and produces tight clusters of greenish-white to pink-purple flowers. Its seed pods are long and slender and its seeds are about 1/4 inch long.

flowers of narrowleaf milkweed (Asclepias fascicularis)

seeds escaping from the follicle of narrowleaf milkweed (Asclepias fascicularis)

Swamp or rose milkweed (Asclepias incarnata) is more common east of Idaho, but occurs occasionally in southwestern Idaho. As its common name suggests, it prefers moist soils and is found in wetlands, wet meadows, and along streambanks. It can spread rhizomatously, but generally doesn’t spread very far. It reaches up to four feet tall, has deep green, lance-shaped leaves, and produces attractive, fragrant, pink to mauve, dome-shaped flower heads at the tops of its stems. Its seed pods are narrow and around 3 inches long.

swamp milkweed (Asclepias incarnata)

Asclepias cryptoceras ssp. davisii, or Davis’s milkweed, is a low-growing, drought-adapted, diminutive species that occurs in southwestern Idaho. It has round or oval-shaped leaves and produces flowers on a short stalk. The flowers have white or cream-colored petals and pink-purple hoods. The range of Asclepias cryptoceras – commonly known as pallid milkweed or jewel milkweed – extends beyond Idaho’s borders into Oregon and Nevada, creeping north into Washington and south into California. Another subspecies – cryptoceras – can be found in Nevada, Utah, and their bordering states.

Davis’s milkweed (Asclepias cryptoceras ssp. davisii)

The final species is rare in Idaho, as Idaho sits at the top of its native range. Asclepias asperula ssp. asperula, or spider milkweed, has a single documented location in Franklin County (southeastern Idaho). Keep your eyes peeled though, because this plant may occur elsewhere, either in Franklin County or neighboring counties. It grows up to two feet tall with an upright or sprawling habit and produces clusters of white to green-yellow flowers with maroon highlights. Its common name comes from the crab spiders frequently found hunting in its flower heads.

A sixth species, horsetail milkweed (Asclepias subverticillata), has been falsely reported in Idaho. Collections previously labeled as A. subverticillata have been determined to actually be the similar looking A. fascicularis.

Party Time for Puncture Vine, Year Two

Party Time for Puncture Vine, Year Two

A noxious weed brought Boiseans together for the second year in a row. After a successful inaugural year, the Boise Goathead Fest returned to downtown Boise, Idaho on the 2nd and 3rd of August. The festival’s namesake comes from a particularly destructive weed whose spiky fruits are notorious for puncturing bike tires. Known commonly as goathead or puncture vine, Tribulus terrestris is abundant in the Treasure Valley and the bane of area bicyclists. Organized by the Boise Bicycle Project and other bike-centric non-profits, Boise Goathead Fest is a celebration of bike culture, as well as an opportunity to spread awareness about this problematic plant.

goathead-themed art

For the two months leading up to Goathead Fest, Treasure Valley residents were encouraged to pull as many goatheads as they could get their hands on. Those who took on the challenge were rewarded with tokens to be redeemed at the Fest for drinks or ice cream. Trophies and prizes were also presented to those who pulled the most goatheads over the two month period. This effort resulted in thousands of pounds of goatheads being removed from the area, saving bicyclists from countless flat tires and slimming down puncture vine’s extensive seed bank.

scale for weighing goathead collections

After two months of collecting goatheads, it was time to celebrate. The two day long party consisted of live music and DJs, a huge bike parade around downtown Boise (for which participants were encouraged to decorate their bikes and wear costumes), and a variety of other bike-themed and non bike-themed activities. Goathead education continued during the Fest with the help of folks from Ada County, City of Boise, Idaho Botanical Garden, and others.

A peak inside the Ada County Weed, Pest, and Mosquito Abatement education and outreach trailer

Goathead coloring page created by Wendy of Idaho Botanical Garden

Puncture vine pennants created by Anna of Idaho Botanical Garden

With all of this attention and awareness focused on a single noxious weed, might it be possible to eliminate it from our community and free ourselves from ruined rides and trashed tires? The seeds of puncture vine are relatively short lived, and as an annual plant, seeds are its only method of reproduction. Even if we can’t altogether eliminate it, we could certainly see a dramatic reduction in its abundance and distribution. Perhaps in the future we will spend less time pulling it and more time celebrating its rarity, reflecting back on the time when punctures permeated our pedal-powered lives. Whatever the result, puncture vine has brought our community together once again. If such a loathsome weed can bring people together in celebration like this, perhaps it’s not entirely bad.

me with goathead balloon

See Also: Boise Weekly – Goathead’s the Burr, Community’s the Word