My book is out! It showed up a week earlier than expected, a pleasant surprise for anyone who pre-ordered a copy. Common Backyard Weeds of the Pacific Northwest is available now from your favorite bookseller. You can also order it directly fromthe publisher or through my Bookshop store. Thank you for your support! If and when you get your hands on a copy, please tell me what you think. Constructive feedback would be particularly helpful so that I can make improvements to the second edition. (Yes, I’m already planning on a second edition, and I already have a few edits of my own!)
While researching this book, I came across many new and interesting facts about weeds that I didn’t previously know. It’s part of the joy of writing. Some of these discoveries pertain to cocklebur, a prickly and troubling weed with a fascinating dispersal story. Xanthium strumarium is a widespread plant that comes up in farms, rangelands, wetlands, yards, vacant lots, roadsides, ditch banks, and a variety of other locations. In the book I introduce it this way: “A native and/or introduced annual (short-lived perennial) that grows up to 4 feet tall with either a single or a few rigid stems.” It produces a thick, woody taproot and has broad, simple leaves. Separate male and female flowers occur on the same plant, and the flowers are wind-pollinated and predominantly self-pollinated – a unique state of affairs for a plant in the aster family.
fruits of cocklebur (Xanthium strumarium)
The most recognizable feature of cocklebur are the fruits, which are egg-shaped and covered in hooked prickles. One of their dispersal mechanisms is immediately obvious, grabbing onto passers-by and hitching a ride. Since they are often found near waterways or in areas where flooding occurs, another way they are dispersed is by floating in water. Both of these dispersal pathways allow seeds to travel long distances.
Still, cockleburs have another trick up their sleeves that helps ensure their longevity. Inside each fruit there are two seeds which look a bit like oversized sunflower seeds. These seeds exhibit something called somatic polymorphism. This term can mean different things depending on the plant, but in cocklebur’s case it means that the two seeds have different dormancies. One seed will germinate within the first year. The second seed remains dormant for at least a year and can germinate much later. A classic example of bet hedging. The two seeds are equipped with a water-soluble germination inhibitor. Oxygen degrades the inhibitors which leads to germination, but this happens at a different rate in each of the two seeds. (Read more about this here.)
inside the fruit of a cocklebur
From a weed management perspective, dispersal mechanisms and seed viability are two critical traits to become familiar with. When you know how your weeds get around and how long their seeds might last in the soil, you can make informed decisions on which weeds to remove and when. Just another reason to get my book!
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If you are in the Boise area, I will be at Rediscovered Books this Saturday (July 11,2026) for a short presentation and book signing. Goherefor more details. Follow me on Instagram to stay informed on this and future book events. Hope to see you there!
If you’re reading this the day it’s posted, we are two weeks away from my book being released. Common Backyard Weeds of the Pacific Northwest will be available for purchase from your favorite bookseller on July 7, 2026. The book is a quick guide to many of the common weeds you will find across Idaho, Oregon, Washington, and parts of British Columbia and Alaska. It’s small enough to fit in your pocket and approachable enough for those who know nothing about plants to get something out of it. My hope is that it has something to offer plant people too. Preorder now to be sure you’ll get a copy. I appreciate the support!
A few more details about the book. The introduction defines weeds, gives a broad overview on how to identify plants, and shares some basic information on how to manage weeds. The weeds themselves are organized into general life forms: low-growing, upright broadleaf, vining, and grass or grass-like. The book does not cover trees, shrubs, or aquatic weeds. Plant profiles include a brief introduction, habitat preferences, plant descriptions, and some look-alikes. There is also some general guidance on how to manage the weed along with a sentence or two on how to use them (ethnobotany!) or how they might be used (wildlife or ecological value!). Photos are included to help with identification, and resources are listed to keep you learning.
Some of the profiles in the book cover multiple weeds in one. This is because their life histories, life forms, and habitat preferences are very similar. Their management is also identical. While I typically recommend identifying your weeds before making management decisions, closely related weeds that act similarly don’t necessarily need to be identified precisely to species. However, if you’re a plant identification dork like me, figuring out exactly what species of weed you have is a thrilling endeavor. In fact, something I often say is if you’re looking to get better at plant identification, start with weeds. There are so many resources out there for identifying weeds (like my book!), that studying descriptions of weeds makes for a great introduction to the basics of plant identification.
As an example, let’s look at two different weedy, annual sowthistles: spiny sowthistle (Sonchus asper) and common sowthistle (Sonchus oleraceus). Both of these species can look very similar, from their flowers to their growth forms to their leaves and stems. One way to easily tell them apart is by closely observing their leaves, specifically their leaf bases. The leaf bases of both species clasp the stem. The leaves of spiny sowthistle tend to be glossy with more spines along their margins. Their bases are open and rounded, creating a distinct spiral form. The leaf bases of common sowthistle are folded over, which can give them a pointed look.
leaf bases of spiny sowthistle (Sonchus asper)
leaf bases of common sowthistle (Sonchus oleraceus)
Another similar looking, related species is perennial sowthistle (S. arvensis). It is relatively easy to tell apart due to its perennial nature and its rhizomatous root system. Managing a perennial weed that spreads by rhizomes can be more of a challenge and may require different strategies compared to annual weeds with simple root systems. Understanding the life histories and growth habits of your weeds will make you better equipped to manage them, and hopefully my upcoming book will help you do that.
If you know anything about stinging nettle, you know not to touch it. Its stems and leaves come equipped with needle-like hairs that easily detach from the plant and pierce into bare skin. The real rub is that these needle-like hairs also act like hypodermic needles, injecting a combination of chemicals into your skin resulting in an obnoxious itching sensation that can last for hours. So why would I suggest using it to make tea? Shouldn’t I do the responsible thing and advise you to keep your distance?
Stinging nettle actually has a long history of being consumed. Recipes abound on the internet for things like stinging nettle soup, stinging nettle pesto, stinging nettle cake, stinging nettle curry, and so on. (Not to mention all the other uses for this plant.) It’s a delicious and nutritious vegetable, even in spite of its horrors. Consuming it is possible because – unlike poison oak, poison ivy, and other plants you should avoid contact with – it’s surprisingly simple to disarm. Soaking it, cooking it, and/or drying it will take the sting out of stinging nettle. Provided you are careful during the harvesting and processing portions of the project, stinging nettle is a perfectly fine plant to bring into the kitchen.
stinging nettle (Urtica dioica)
Urtica dioica is a herbaceous perennial in the family Urticaceae – the nettle family. Its stems reach from about 3 to 9 feet tall and the plant spreads vigorously by rhizomes, creating dense stands in moist soil. Its leaves are arranged oppositely on prominent petioles and are linear, ovate, or cordate in shape. Leaf margins are coarsely serrate, and distinct stipules are found where the leaf meets the stem. Dense clusters of tiny flowers occur in spikes or panicles that emerge from leaf axils in the upper portions of the stems. Individual flowers are without petals and are green to brown in color. They are imperfect, and separate male and female flowers can either be found on the same plant or different plants. Stinging nettle generally grows in nutrient-rich soils with regular access to water. Find it along forest edges, in wet meadows, riparian areas, floodplains, roadsides, and other areas of regular disturbance.
Stinging nettle is widely distributed across the northern hemisphere and has several subspecies. In North America, the native stinging nettle was for many years referred to as Urtica dioica ssp. gracilis. Today, taxonomists consider it to be a separate species, U. gracilis. Regardless, stinging nettle has been introduced to North America from Europe and Asia, and it can be difficult to distinguish between the two species. The important thing to know is that both have stinging hairs, and both are edible.
stinging nettle tea leaves
To make my tea, I harvested about 1 packed cup of fresh leaves. Young leaves are best. Avoid consuming leaves after the plant has begun to flower because they develop cystoliths, which may result in kidney and urinary tract issues. I submerged the leaves in water and soaked them for a few minutes. I didn’t touch the leaves while harvesting them, but I did grab them with my bare hands after they had been soaking in water, and my hand felt mildly irritated for several minutes. After soaking, I placed the leaves in 3 cups of boiling water and simmered them on low for 10 minutes. After letting the water cool for 20 minutes, I strained the tea and tried it. I thought it tasted mildly like spinach – a flavor it is often compared to. Sierra tried it and declared that she would be the one to finish drinking it. I guess that means she liked it. I added a little honey and decided that I liked it too.
stinging nettle tea
I harvested my tea leaves from a plant growing in our yard. This plant could become a problem due to the aggressive rhizomes. Just something to keep in mind if you plan on including it in your garden. Apart from having edible leaves, it is a host plant for a variety of butterflies and moths, so it is worth having around. The “sting” of stinging nettle is a risk, but it shouldn’t last long – a few minutes to a few hours. There are several plants that people claim will remedy the stinging itch – jewelweed, dock, plantain, etc. – but it will also just go away on its own after a while, so it’s up to you what you want to do about it. I’ll just try not to touch it and enjoy the tea instead.
Prunella vulgaris can be found all over the place. It has also been used to treat just about everything. What else would you expect from a plant known commonly as self-heal, heal-all, all-heal, and woundwort? The medicinal value of this plant has been appreciated for centuries across its expansive range, and studies evaluating its medicinal use continue today. Being such a ubiquitous species – both as a garden plant and a native plant (and also a common weed) – and because it has so much clout in the world of herbal medicine, it’s an obvious candidate for Tea Time.
Self-heal is a member of the mint family (Lamiaceae), easily distinguished by its square stems, opposite leaves, and bilabiate and bilaterally symmetrical (or zygomorphic) flowers. One surprise is that, unlike the many aromatic members of this family, the foliage of self-heal lacks a strong scent. P. vulgaris occurs naturally across Asia, throughout Europe, and in parts of northern Africa. It is also widely distributed across North America. Apart from that, it has been introduced to many regions in the southern hemisphere and has also been frequently moved around throughout its native range. Eurasian varieties now intermingle with North American varieties, which can make it difficult to determine a native individual from an introduced one.
self-heal (Prunella vulgaris)
Self-heal is an adaptable plant that tends to prefer shady, moist locations, but can also be found in open, dry, sunny sites. Find it along forest edges, roadsides, ditches, and trails, as well as on the banks of streams, lakes, and reservoirs. It occurs in gardens, both intentionally planted and as a weed, and can escape into lawns, vacant lots, and open fields, as well as into nearby natural areas.
P. vulgaris is an evergreen that grows both prostrate and upright, sometimes reaching 1 foot tall or more (but is often much shorter). It has shallow, fibrous roots, and its stems root adventitiously as they sprawl across the ground, frequently forming an extensive mat or groundcover. Its leaves are oval to lance-shaped and measure about one inch long. Lower leaves have petioles, while upper leaves may become stalkless. Leaf margins are entire or can be slightly toothed. As plants age, they can develop a coppery or purple-bronze color.
the leaves of self-heal
The flowers of self-heal are generally a shade of purple, but can also be white, pink, or blue. They bloom irregularly in a spike measuring up to two inches long. Flower spikes are thick, dense, cylindrical, and made up of whorls of sharp-pointed bracts. Flowers bloom irregularly along the spike and occur from late spring/early summer into the fall. Each flower produces four nutlets, which sit within a cup-shaped, purple calyx.
As a medicinal herb, self-heal has been used both internally and externally to treat a long list of ailments. These include sore throats, diarrhea, fevers, intestinal infections, liver problems, migraines, heart issues, dermatitis, goiter, and thyroid disfunction, just to name a few. It has been used topically to treat skin irritations, bites, stings, and minor cuts and scrapes. This is thanks to its antimicrobial properties and its ability to stop bleeding. A report in the journal Pharmaceuticals (2023) calls P. vulgaris an “important medicinal plant” due to its “rich chemical composition” and its “pharmacological action.” Chemical analyses find the plant to be a valuable source of phenolic compounds, flavonoids, rosmarinic acid, and ursolic acid, among numerous other compounds. If you are curious to learn more detailed information regarding this plant’s medicinal value, you can refer to the above report, as well as one found in Frontiers in Pharmacology (2022).
self-heal tea
P. vulgaris is an edible plant, and its young leaves can be eaten raw or cooked. The leaves together with the flowers can also be dried and used to make a tea. This is how I had it. I used about two teaspoons of dried leaves to one cup of water. Feel free to use more if you would like. I thought the tea was pretty mild. It had a slight sweetness to it and a hint of mint flavor. It has been described as bitter, but I didn’t find it to be overly so (although I may have a higher tolerance for bitterness). Sierra tried it and said that it tasted like “water left over from something else.” That might be because it was more diluted than she would have preferred. Overall, I thought it was a pleasant experience and would be happy to drink it again.
If it isn’t clear by now from my Weeds of Boiseseries and countless other posts, I happen to be interested in the flora and fauna of urban areas. Urban ecology is a fascinating field of study, and I’m not sure that it gets the attention it deserves. Nature is not some far away place, and you shouldn’t have to leave city limits to go in search of it. Remarkably, nature exists right outside your front door, even if you live in the middle of a massive city. It may be a different sort of nature than the one you might find in a national forest or a state park, and it may be composed of species introduced from all corners of the world, but it is still a collection of living organisms interacting with each other and the surrounding environment in unique and important ways. The question is, can you grow to appreciate nearby nature and recognize that the ecological interactions that exist within the context of a city are just as valid as those you’ll find outside of our built environments?
Luckily, there are resources that can help you with that, including a recent book compiled by Lisa Thompson and others at the Natural History Museum of Utah (NHMU). It’s called Wild Wasatch Front, and it’s of particular interest to me because it covers a region that’s relatively close by, and our two locations share a number of similarities. Plus, I played a small role in reviewing some of the plants (specifically the weeds) that ended up in the book (Sierra would insist that I mention this, so there you go). Similar books exist for other regions across North America and elsewhere, so I encourage you to seek out a book that applies to your hometown.
The Wasatch Front is a metropolitan region in north-central Utah that spans the western side of the Wasatch Mountains and includes a long string of cities and towns extending for many miles in all directions. Included in that list of cities is Salt Lake City, the state’s capitol and largest city in the state. The idea for a book about urban nature in the Wasatch Front was inspired by an exhibit at NHMU called “Nature All Around Us.” The exhibit and resulting book offer a new perspective for those insisting that “nature and cities cannot coexist” or that the nature found in cities is influenced by humans and therefore shouldn’t be considered “real.” Hundreds of organisms making a life for themselves within the boundaries of our cities might argue otherwise.
Wild Wasatch Front is divided into three main sections, with each section being worth the price of the book on its own. First there are a series of essays about urban nature and ecology. Names you might recognize, including Emma Marris and Riley Black, contributed to the book, as well as several other people that live and work in the western U.S. and have an interest in nature and environmental issues, especially as they relate to cities. Novel ecosystems is a reoccurring theme, not just in the essays but throughout the book. In her essay, Sarah Jack Hinners writes, “urban nature is a mixture of the intentional and the unintentional,” adding that “for every tree or rosebush or lawn that we plant and carefully nurture, there are multitudes of other plants and animals that grow and thrive uninvited and unnurtured by us.”
The largest section in the book is a field guide, profiling 127 plus species that call the Wasatch Front home, some native and some transplants. This section is divided into subsections that include birds, invertebrates, fungi and lichen, mammals, reptiles and amphibians, street trees, and wild plants. The entry for each species includes a brief description, a few interesting facts, and details on how and where to find them, accompanied by images. With the variety of creatures covered, you are sure to find something that interests you and a reason to go out looking for your favorites. You may even learn something new about a species you’ve been seeing for years, such as house finches. It turns out that the colorful patches on a male house finch are the result of the plants they eat. These patches can be red, orange, or yellow. The redder the better though, because female house finches seek out mates with this coloration.
Naturally, my focus was mainly aimed at the plants covered in this section. I appreciated the mixture of native and introduced plants, even the inclusion of plants considered to be invasive. Instead of vilifying these species, there is an attempt to understand them and find value in them, even in spite of the concerns and negative opinions held about them. Box elder (Acer negundo) is an example of a plant that has both native and introduced populations. Once widely planted in yards and on farms, this tree has “fallen out of favor.” Its weak wood (a result of growing so quickly), can result in a messy, unattractive tree, making it a poor choice for a street tree. However, it propagates itself readily and shows up in vacant lots and other urban locations that receive minimal management and human attention. In the Wasatch Front, you can find box elders that are native, naturalized, and cultivated, an unlikely scenario unique to urban areas.
massive box elder (Acer negundo) in Boise, Idaho
The third and final section of the book is a guide to 21 different hikes and field trips in and around the Wasatch Front. Each field trip features a hand-drawn map and some basic notes about the hike. Details about what can be seen along the way are included in the descriptions, which are sure to entice you into visiting. Whether or not you think you’ll ever make it out to any of these spots, this section is still worth reading if only for the ongoing discussions about urban ecology. For example, in the entry for Gib’s Loop, abrupt changes in land ownership and land use (a common experience when hiking in urban areas) is addressed: “Human impacts in the foothills…don’t end at backyard fences, and many animals use resources in both habitats. It’s more interesting to think of cities and the surrounding foothills as part of an interconnected system rather than separate and distinct.”
The field trip section is also used as a teaching opportunity to describe more of the species you’ll find in the Wasatch Front. In the entry for Creekside Park, learn how to identify creeping mahonia (Berberis repens), with its low growing habit and matte leaves, and compare it to Oregon grape (B. aquifolium), with its more upright habit and shinier leaves.
Berberis aquifolium (on the left) compared to Berberis repens (on the right)
Last year, in anticipation of Wild Wasatch Front, I came across another book with a similar focus. This book was put out by a group called The Urban Field Naturalist Project, headquartered in Australia. Their book, A Guide to the Creatures in Your Neighbourhood, encourages its readers to become urban naturalists and offers resources to help them get started. Just like Wild Wasatch Front, the bulk of the book is a field guide to species found in and around urban areas (in Australia, of course). In place of a guide to hikes and field trips, there are instructions on how to start nature journaling, which is a key component of becoming an urban field naturalist. Getting outside and learning to recognize nearby nature is step one, documenting what you see and sharing those observations with others is step two. Taken together, these two books will help you gain a better appreciation for urban nature and will hopefully inspire you to work to conserve what is there and make room for more.
Things were pretty quiet on the blog in 2023, and I apologize for that. I have no excuses really. It’s just life. Fewer posts doesn’t mean I’m any less committed to writing and sharing about plants since the day I started this project, it’s more about quality over quantity. I would never want this to become a half-hearted affair, so even if months go by without hearing from me, just know that there are great things in the works, which I hope will be worth the wait.
Recently, while writing an article for Wildflowermagazine, I came across this giant tome, Pollination and Floral Ecology by Pat Willmer. The previous year I had read Jeff Ollerton’s book, Pollinators and Pollination, and really got a lot out of it. These incredible resources on the science of pollination reminded me of a time early in Awkward Botany’s history in which I spent a year posting about pollination. I called it Year of Pollination, and by the time the year came to a close, I was struck by how much I still wanted to share about this topic. So now, armed with these new resources, I think it’s time for Another Year of Pollination.
In 2024, I plan on posting another series of pollinator and pollination themed posts. I may not be able to match what I accomplished in 2015, but I will aim for at least one a month. Just something to look forward to in the coming year.
If this entices you enough to continue to follow Awkward Botany (or to start), please do. Relevant links are here on my linktree. Awkward Botany can be found on a number of different social media platforms, but there are a few that I am more active on than others. With the fall of Twitter, I have moved on to other things. This is where you can find me most often at this point in time:
lf you’ve seen one fireweed, you’ve probably seen several. As an early successional species, growing in large numbers across a vast amount of space is kind of its thing. Any disturbance that leaves bare ground in its wake, such as a wildfire or a windstorm, gives fireweed the opportunity to colonize. It grows quickly and spreads via rhizomes, producing thousands of airborne seeds in the process, sending them off to continue colonization or contribute to soil seed banks in preparation for future disturbances. The role of plants like fireweed is vital – promptly covering bare ground to stave off erosion and acting as a nurse plant to new saplings destined to become the future forest. In a garden setting or in locations where aggressively spreading plants are discouraged, fireweed and its weedy behavior may be unwelcome, but in other contexts, its services are essential.
fireweed (Chamerion angustifolium)
Fireweed (Chamerion angustifolium) is a species in Onagraceae, commonly known as the evening primrose family. It has an impressive distribution, widespread across much of North America and Eurasia. This is owed largely to its adaptability. Deep shade and overly dry soil are two conditions that it does not tolerate well, otherwise it seems to grow in a wide variety of soil types, moisture levels, and sun exposures, particularly in areas where there is regular disturbance. Swaths of towering plants topped with rose-pink flower spikes make fireweed impossible to ignore and a favorite of wildflower enthusiasts.
Fireweed stems reach from three to nine feet tall and are rarely branched. Long, narrow, lance-shaped leaves are arranged alternately along the lengths of stems and give the plant a willow-like appearance, which explains another common name, rosebay willowherb. The undersides of leaves have a distinct venation pattern, in which the veins don’t reach the leaf margins, a feature that can help with identification.
distinct leaf veins of fireweed(Chamerion angustifolium)
A series of rose-pink to purple flowers top the stems of fireweed. Each flower has four sepals and four petals with eight stamens and a four-lobed stigma extending prominently from the center. Its long, narrow ovary can be confused for a flower stalk. Rich with nectar, fireweed flowers are a favorite of honeybee keepers. They are also edible, like much of the rest of the plant. Narrow, four-chambered capsules form in place of fertilized flowers and later split open to release abundant, small seeds with a tuft of fluff attached to each one to aid in wind dispersal.
Fireweed has a long history of being used as food and medicine. Stem fibers are also useful for making cord, and seed fluff is useful for weaving and padding. Certainly, fireweed’s abundance and ubiquity contribute to its utility. Having never eaten fireweed before, I decided that a good way to introduce it to my diet would be to make a tea. Fireweed leaves are commonly collected for tea and are said to make an excellent non-caffeinated replacement for black tea.
fireweed tealeaves
Making fireweed tea starts by stripping young leaves from fireweed stems. Recipes I encountered all called for fermenting the leaves before drying them. I did this by squeezing handfuls of leaves in my fists just enough to break and bruise them a bit and then packing them into a quart size Mason jar. I closed the lid tight and kept them in the jar for about five days, shaking it up a couple times a day supposedly to help prevent mold issues. After that, I dried the leaves on a baking sheet in the hot sun. From there, they are ready for making tea the same way you would make any other loose leaf tea, chopping the leaves up a bit before immersing them in hot water.
I found the taste of fireweed tea to be mild and pleasant. Despite several sources comparing it to black tea, I thought it was more similar to green tea. Sierra liked the smell more than the taste and wished it had honey in it. Compared to other teas I’ve tried in this short series of posts, this is definitely one of the better ones, and a tea I could see myself making again sometime.
As soon as I learned that the Western Society of Weed Science‘s annual meeting was going to be held in Boise in 2023, I began making plans to attend. I had attended the annual meeting in 2018 when it was held in Garden Grove, California and had been thinking about it ever since. It’s not every year that a meeting like this comes to your hometown, so it was an opportunity I knew I couldn’t miss. The meeting was combined with the Western Aquatic Plant Managment Society‘s annual meeting, so consider that a bonus.
The first meeting of the week was the general session where introductions are made and various updates are given. There were two keynote addresses as well. One highlight for me was learning about Women of Aquatics, which is a support group for women that work in aquatic sciences. Because this and so many other scientific fields tend to be male dominated, it’s good to see organizations offering support and creating community to help address some of the challenges women face when working in fields where they are underrepresented. Another highlight was Matt Germino‘s talk about fire ecology in the sagebrush steppe. Due to decades of overgrazing and the introduction of a suite of invasive annual grasses (among other factors), fire has become far more common in our region than it once was. The sagebrush steppe is not adapted to frequent fire, which is part of what makes restoration work so difficult. In 2015, a megafire (referred to as the Soda Megafire) occurred in the Owyhee Mountains, burning around 279,000 acres of sagebrush steppe. Restoration efforts after the fire have been well researched, and such efforts continue to this day. Research opportunities like this are helping us improve the way we address this issue in the West, and I hope to spend future posts elaborating further on this topic.
After the general ssession, I attended a few of the talks that were happening in the various breakout sessions. One was about climate change trends in the western U.S. No surprise, temperatures are on the rise, and along with that will come changes in the way we receive our preciptation (which has already been documented). Our region is expected to see more rain and less snow, and rain events are expected to be of shorter duration but with heavier rainfall. Snowpack is expected to continue to decrease, and drought is expected to become more extreme, which ultimately leads to more fire weather days. None of this is great news, but it’s important to understand what we are in for. I also attended a talk about non-target impacts that can arise from certain herbicde treatments used to control bird cherry (Prunus padus) in Alaska, which brought me back to my time attending the Alaska Invasive Species Workshop in Anchorage.
Posters!
The following day, the breakout sessions continued, and dozens of talks were given throughout the day. It’s impossible to attend them all, and unfortunately a few of the talks that I really wanted to hear were cancelled. One interesting talk that I’m glad I got to see was about liquid-applied cellulosic mulches used to replace polyethylene sheet mulches (black plastic) in strawberries and other crops. The results seen so far seem promising, and I’m eager to follow this topic to see where it goes and hopefully even try it out myself one day.
During the meeting, there were also a series of posters on display that summarized research being doing by some of the attendees. I didn’t get a chance to read them all, but a few standouts included posters about using prescriptive grazing to help control tall oatgrass (Arrhenatherum elatius) populations in Colorado, using an electrical current to help manage weeds in blueberry farms, and weed seed predation by ground beetles in diversified wheat production cropping systems. If a poster is about some form of novel or underused method of weed management, I’m definitely going to read it.
bur chervil (Anthriscus caucalis) in downtown Boise
It might seem a little odd for me to be attending meetings like this, especially since I don’t work as a weed scientist or in weed management, and much of what is discussed, namely presentations about all the various herbicide treatments used in rangelands, turfgrass, and large-scale agriculture, don’t concern me (nor do they really interest me). Talks like this are what you would expect to hear at a weed science conference, so despite not being my thing, I appreciate that such talks often include discussions about herbicide resistance and the responsible use of herbicides, climate change, drought and responsible water use, and adaptive management approaches to weed control. I’m not sure when I’ll get a chance to attend this meeting again – it may be another 5 years or more – but whenever the opportunity presents itself, I’ll be there.
Next Up: Botany 2023 is coming to Boise in July. I’ll see you there!
Just because it’s winter doesn’t mean there aren’t plenty of plants to look at. Deciduous trees and shrubs become particularly interesting during the winter months with their exposed branches and their growth habits made more obvious. The beauty of a tree’s “skeletal” structure is revealed when it’s stripped of its leaves and set against a winter sky. Winter is also a great time to prune certain trees and shrubs (when appropriate), partly because their branches are so easily viewed and “problem” areas readily reveal themselves. Whether you’re observing a tree’s branching structure simply for enjoyment-sake or because you plan to prune, you may find yourself noticing distinct differences in the growth habits of trees. Distinct growth habits can help you identify trees. They can also tell you something about a tree’s environment or growing conditions.
In the book, The Tree, Colin Tudge defines a tree as “a big plant with a stick up the middle.” Sometimes this “stick” runs straight up from the ground to the top of the tree without interruption and is the tallest portion of the plant. Other times, the “stick” reaches a certain height and branches out into multiple “sticks,” each one reaching out in a different direction – some heading more outward, while others continue to reach for the sky. This is the difference between excurrent and decurrent growth.
excurrent growth habit: dawn redwood (Taxodium distichum)
A tree with an excurrent growth habit has one central leader – or single trunk – that reaches all the way to the top of the tree. Side branches occur along the length of the trunk and generally get shorter as they move up the tree, producing a pyramidal or conical shape. Think of a typical Christmas tree. Many conifers exhibit excurrent growth, as do several deciduous trees such as sweetgum and pin oak, as well as aspens and other poplars. When a tree divides part way up the trunk, splitting into several large branches – none of which could be considered the dominant branch – it is exhibiting a decurrent growth habit. Trees that generally fall into this category include elms, maples, oaks, and ashes. The growth habit of a tree is largely a result of its genetics, but plants are known for their plasticity, taking on a wide variety of forms depending on their parentage and their circumstances. Trying to identify a tree based only its growth habit, isn’t likely to yield great results.
decurrent growth habit: oak (Quercus sp.)
The environment that a plant is growing in can have noticeable effects on the form the plant takes. A tree growing up in a forest thick with other trees will typically grow straight up in search of sunlight and will branch out very little until it can get up high enough to do so. That same species of tree growing in an open field might instead branch out extensively at a much lower height, taking advantage of the generous amount of space to stretch its branches out wide. As Tudge puts it in The Tree, “one form for the forest, another for the open ground.” Additionally, things can happen in a tree’s life that will drastically alter its form. If, for example, a storm comes through and breaks off a tree’s central leader, several side branches might grow out and upward to take its place, giving an otherwise excurrent tree a decurrent form. The pruning that humans often do (sometimes unwisely) to trees and shrubs, particularly in urban settings, can also alter a plant’s natural growth habit considerably. These are important considerations to make when assessing the forms of trees.
decurrent growth habit: golden rain tree(Koelreuteria paniculata)
I give decurrent growth habits five stars. No shade on excurrent trees. They’re also beautiful. But while trees with excurrent growth habits have otherwise predictable forms, decurrent trees are full of surprises. Their broad and rounded forms provided by their deliquescent branching structures are endlessly interesting, and their capacious canopies ensure that no two trees are alike.
Learning to identify Kentucky coffeetree in the winter brings you one step closer to making a coffee-like (albeit caffeine-free) beverage from its seeds. Humans have a long history of occasionally using the “beans” of Gymnocladus dioicus to make this tisane, which explains common names like coffeetree, American coffee berry, and coffeenut. The process is a bit time consuming, and the end result is mixed, but foraging adventures like this are all about the experience. This drink is not likely to replace whatever you are currently drinking in the morning, but it does offer an interesting diversion.
fruit of Kentucky coffeetree (Gymnocladus dioicus)
Winter is the best time to collect the pods, which are flat, leathery, brown to black in color, and about 2 inches wide and 6 inches long. The stocky fruits are often found hanging from the tips of the tree’s bare branches. Many also fall to the ground over the course of the season, making them easier to collect. If you split the pods open early in the season, you’ll find the seeds embedded in a sticky, neon green goo that will stick to your hands and clothes. As the year progresses, the glue-like substance dries out and is easier to deal with. The seeds are dark, extremely hard, rounded and flattened, and about the size of a penny or nickel. The funiculus, which is a short stalk that connects the ovule/seed to the ovary, tends to be fairly prominent and something you don’t often get to see on seeds.
inside the fruit of a Kentucky coffeetree
Once you’ve collected several pods and removed the seeds from the gooey innards, soak the seeds for an hour or two and then rinse them, making sure to remove dried up goo and any remaining funiculi. Pat the seeds dry and place them in a baking dish with a lid for roasting. The roasting process is said to eliminate the toxicity of the seeds. The lid is important because several of the seeds will pop open during roasting and will fly around in your oven if they aren’t contained.
The fruits of Kentucky coffeetree contain a toxic compound called cytisine, an alkaloid that is similar in action to nicotine. The Handbook of Poisonous and Injurious Plants by Nelson, et al. states that “the cytisine content of the seeds is quite low; and chewing one or two would not be expected to produce toxic effects.” Actually, the bigger risk of chewing one of these rock hard seeds is breaking your teeth. Cytisine poisoning includes typical symptoms like diarrhea and vomiting; in extreme cases it can lead to coma and death. If the seeds are properly roasted, you won’t have to worry about any of this, but as with anything you are trying for the first time, start with small amounts.
seeds of Kentucky coffeetree
Times and temperatures for roasting vary depending on who you’re getting your information from. I went with 300° F for 3 hours (which ended up being 3 and a half hours because I forgot to take them out in time). One source suggested roasting the seeds for only 2 hours for better flavor, but I decided to err on the side of caution and roast them for longer. Many of the seeds will have popped open during the roasting process. For those that haven’t you will need to use a nutcracker or some other comparable tool to crack the seed coat and remove the insides. Dispose of the seed coats and grind the remaining bits into a fine powder using either a coffee grinder or mortar and pestle. You’ll end up with a fine, chocolate-colored powder which you will use to make your “coffee.”
You can prepare this beverage in the same way you would typically choose to make coffee, but keep in mind that upon adding water, the fine grounds quickly turn to a mud-like substance and will block up the filter you are using. For this reason, I recommend small batches. I found Kentucky coffeetree “coffee” to be very earthy and rich and somewhat similar to strong black coffee. Sierra tried it and immediately exclaimed, “That’s nice!” and then proceeded to give it two thumbs up. Some people like black coffee. I added cream to it and found it much more pleasant to drink. Other peopledon’t think this beverage tastes like coffee at all and instead call it tea-like, chocolaty, fruity, or “akin to mud,” among other more negative reviews. I think it’s a drink that could grow on me, but considering the effort it takes to make one cup, I don’t see that happening any time soon.
Kentucky coffeetree “coffee grounds”
Have you tried making “coffee” from the seeds of Kentucky coffeetree? Let us know what you think about it in the comment section below.
awkward botany 