Urban Ecology

by

Permaculture Lessons, part two: Disabled Permaculture

This is a guest post by Laura-Marie River Victor Peace Nopales (see contact info below).

Hello! I made a guest post on Awkward Botany in March, introducing myself and my spouse, and talking a little about my life with permaculture. Permaculture is a way I learn about plants, love the earth, grow delicious foods, and connect with others. Permaculture has a community aspect, and respect for all beings is part of that. Permaculture is a great idea for disabled people.

Being disabled is a lot of work, and butting up against ableism all around is part of that. A default assumption many have, including many permaculture teachers, is that people are full of abundant energy and can live our values if we choose to. But being disabled means that what we want to do often isn’t the same as what we can accomplish. Disabled permaculture is a great take on permaculture that Ming and I have been doing together for 11 years of friendship and partnership.

Disabled permaculture is a valuable concept that many people can benefit from and customize to their own needs. Throughout this essay, I’ll mention many ways it helps me and Ming live a beautiful interdependent life.

how we’re disabled

My spouse Ming and I are both disabled. He has narcolepsy, so he falls asleep at unwanted times, doesn’t get restful sleep, and many aspects of life are impacted by his low energy and lack of wakeful cognition. Narcolepsy can contribute to struggles with memory, language, and reality comprehension. Ming also has a diagnosis of OCD.

Ming endures heartache trying to get his medical needs met, since a medication he uses for wakefulness is a controlled substance. The drug war plus health insurance nonsense means he has to jump through more hoops than anyone should need to, let alone a disabled person.

As for me, I have psychiatric diagnoses and hear voices, along with social differences and sensory sensitivities. Some terms that might apply to me are anxious and autistic. I like “crazy” as a reclaimed term, like queer and fat, which also apply. I have a schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type diagnosis. I was sedated on a bipolar cocktail for around 11 years.

how permaculture suits us

Permaculture is a helpful design system for disabled people such as ourselves. We have limited energy and fluctuating capabilities. Sometimes we’re not up for much. Permaculture is helpful as a realistic, forgiving, less energy intensive way of growing plants and doing community.

Permaculture is about working with the land forms and nature’s rhythms, not fighting against them. It’s observantly respectful to Mother Earth and one another.

A goal is to create food forests that are self-sustaining. We permaculturists like to take a long view, start small, design for resilience, and rest in hammocks. We create closed loop systems. It’s fun to consider the weaknesses of our systems’ interdependence and arrange backups for our backups, with layers of redundancy. Problems are seen as opportunities. We have a thing for hugelkultur. We enjoy rich diversity, especially at the edges.

image credit: wikimedia commons

Permaculturists love nourishing the land, with compost, generous mulching, water catchment in swales, and other ways of making the land more rich than the scraggly vacant lots and neglected yard space we arrived to. We like doing land justice, so inviting people in, opposing food deserts by sharing our bounty, organizing community gardens, and working together with locals.

We prefer collaboration over gentrification. Smiling, we get a lot of joy out of seed bombs, guerilla gardening wild areas, and having a lemonade party, when life gives us lemons and we make lemonade.

I’ve enjoyed gleaning fruit to share with Food Not Bombs, harvesting olives with neighbors, and lots of sheet mulching with discarded cardboard to unmake lawns. Permaculture has helped me by giving me a framework for the regenerative, earth-nourishing impulses that stirred within me already.

community and energy

If all of this sounds fun, that’s because it is. Why is permaculture especially good for people who are disabled?

Inviting people in and nourishing community means more people care about our garden, and are willing to step in when Ming and I are less out and about. Thank you to the kind community members who see what needs doing and are empowered to contribute to the thriving of garden life.

Also, permaculture is less energy intensive than other ways of growing plants. Long term solution is a relief. Food forests are like Eden. Creating and tending food forests means there can be a bit by bit accumulation of plants that work well together.

It’s not a stressful, all-at-once venture. There’s not the once or twice annual “rip everything out and start over” that I’ve seen other gardeners do. It feels relaxed and cumulative, good for a disabled pace.

When we have the energy and the weather is cooperative, we evaluate how the garden overall is doing. Do we have room for more herbs? Are enough flowers blooming to attract pollinators and keep them happy? What foods do we want to eat more of, in the next few months? Should we put sunflowers somewhere different this time? It’s unrushed, experimental, fun, and slow.

tree collards for disabled permaculture

The tree collards I mentioned last post are easier to grow than regular collards and kale. Let me tell you about these delicious leafy brassicas as a disabled permaculture example. Tree collards give tasty greens perennially, for years. We get a lot of delicious food from them!

Tree collards are easy to propagate. No need to buy or save seeds, then tend tender seedlings. Just break off a branch, stick it in the garden ground, make sure it stays moist for a few weeks, and hope for the best. It may root and start growing soon.

The tree collards we have are purple with the green. They’re gorgeous and can get lush in the winter. They’re tasty by themselves, sautéed with garlic, added to beans. We had some on our Passover Seder plate recently. When I cook rice, I might add a few tree collard leaves at the end to steam and greenly compliment my carbs.

When I make pesto, I throw in a few leaves of tree collard with the basil. When Ming is gardening, he often munches a few leaves. I smell them, pungent on his breath, when he returns indoors and kisses me.

It’s fun to give cuttings to friends and share the bounty. We talk about perennial vs annual and biennial. We talk about permaculture as an important guiding force in our disabled family. Even if the cuttings die, ideas and love were propagated. By sharing our values, we’ve inviting them into our life.

I like watching tree collards age, lean over, flower, die back, surge forth, reach for the sun. We keep them in our permaculture zone 1, right by our front door, as they are our darlings. They’re available to us all the time.

inevitable

Many people are disabled one way or another, and many people will become disabled, if lucky enough to live into old age. Disabled permaculture is a way most anyone can garden. The investment can be small and gradual.

Some people think of gardening as expensive, requiring tools and the building of raised beds, remaking the garden seasonally, and the accumulation of books and arcane knowledge. But permaculture is humble, less expensive, and becomes an intuitive part of life.

Our garden is not a separate thing that we can choose to do or not do, this spring. It’s always happening, like the other aspects of our creativity, our health, our family, and the cycles of nature.

Laura-Marie River Victor Peace Nopales is a queer trikewitch who enjoys zines, ecstatic dance, and radical mental health. Find her at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

Advertisement
by

Permaculture Lessons, part one

This is a guest post by Laura-Marie River Victor Peace Nopales (see contact info below).

Hello, I’m Laura-Marie. I love plants, permaculture, and learning what grows wherever I find myself. This guest post is about the permaculture lessons I’ve learned gardening with my spouse Ming. Ming is a kind, brilliant person who enjoys interdependence, being a street medic, and helping our garden grow. He’s a long-time permaculturist with two permaculture design certificates.

I’ve studied permaculture for ten years. I enjoy it for many reasons: responsibility and interdependence of organisms, long view, appreciation of small. Thinking a lot about water storage, microclimates, and what makes sense for a particular place. That “you don’t have too many snails–you have too few ducks” mentality. Anything you have too much of to use can be pollution, even something usually considered good.

origins

Ming and I are both from California. We moved to this Las Vegas desert from Sacramento, which is at the north part of the Central Valley and inland from the Bay Area. I love Sacramento for its diversity of humans, plentiful parks, and proximity to many other wonderful places. Ming likes that it’s compact, but not too dense. Things are close together and easy to get to, but not overly scrunched up and piled on each other. 

Sacramento gets hot in the summers but cools off at night with a breeze from The Delta. There are rivers, a wet feel, many trees. We liked helping with Food Not Bombs and being part of the peace community there.

When Ming and I gardened in Sacramento, our relationship grew and changed as our plants grew. At Fremont Community Garden, I turned compost for the first time. I ate the most delicious Asian pears I’ve ever tasted and learned what espalier pruning is, for easy reach of fruits. 

I learned how to be a good garden neighbor. The man who grew long beans in the plot next to ours went on vacation and asked us to water his plot. Our reward was harvesting from his garden. I never knew green beans could grow like that, and so delicious.

In that climate and soil, the oregano we had in our herb spiral went wild, like mint does some places. It turned into a delicious weed, and we would harvest whole trays of oregano to deliver to a local restaurant in exchange for cookies and drinks. It was informative to watch the oregano choke out the tarragon, as the herb spiral spiraled out of control.

Our lavender bush got bigger and bigger–I liked my fragrant attempts to divide it, as I learned how to use a shovel. I enjoyed our basil forest, pinching its flowers, and seeing basil wood for the first time.

tree collards

Tree collards are a quintessential permaculture plant. People who want food forests do well to grow this charming perennial brassica. Ming and I grew lush, gorgeous tree collards in Sacramento. They are so productive and delicious to eat. I loved to make curried greens with beans, and I added ripped up tree collard leaves to a stir fry or any veg dish for more deliciousness. Yes, I adored those pretty leaves, whether they were green or purple.  

Our biggest, first tree collard we called Sideshow Bob. Its leaves floofed up like the hair of Sideshow Bob on the cartoon tv show The Simpsons. Sideshow Bob got infested with Harlequin bugs, and I learned how to save a tree collard from Harlequin bug infestation. Squishing around 300 Harlequin bugs between my gloved fingers and putting their bug bodies into a bucket of soapy water was a thought-provoking scene of carnage.  

What am I willing to do, to defend my favorite plant and meal ingredient? I considered what must die to keep my own body alive, what’s worth it. I miss those cute orange gardening gloves that I would never look at the same way again.

Sideshow Bob tipped over, and Ming found ways to support its “trunk” as it grew diagonally. It was fun to watch Sideshow Bob’s adjustment to sideways life, and we liked to give cuttings away.

Tree collards are easy to propagate, so we had several tree collard plants in our garden after some time. We brought one to my mom’s house and planted it at the edge of her garden. She lived in a different part of California, further south near the coast. Her tree collard flourished there. Every time we visited my mom, I felt excited to see how the tree collard had grown.

sharing

For a while we had two gardens. We had our plot at Fremont Community Garden, but we also lived in an apartment complex with shared beds.There were four beds when we got there, and then two more were added.  

We learned about sharing garden space with friends, including emotions, not wanting to encroach on someone else’s space, challenges of communication and expectations. I had a clump of rainbow chard that I loved to eat and watch grow. It got infested with aphids, but I was hoping to win that battle.  After some time, a well-meaning neighbor ripped it out, and I cried.

We learned how much space is the right amount, and which plants we like to eat grow well in Sacramento.  Tomatoes do well there.  I learned a permaculture lesson about the wave of energy: how having a high yield might not correspond to having enough energy to harvest it.  

One summer, so many cherry tomatoes grew that we couldn’t harvest them fast enough. Big changes were happening in the lives of everyone who lived in that apartment building, when the tomato plants were covered in hundreds of fruits. It was sad, not to have the capacity to share surplus with people in need.

There’s a mushroom farm in Sacramento that gave away spent substrate, which intrigued us.  We decided to try using substrate as mulch. “It could take nutrients from the soil, since it’s just sawdust.  Maybe this is a silly idea,” we wondered.  But we opened the bags and spread the sawdust on our garden beds, curious,

Then there was a rainy couple weeks in the winter, and we found ourselves with more oyster mushrooms than we could eat. They fruited out like mad. That felt magical and was a tasty experiment in trying something out just to see what happens.

promise

In future guest posts, I’d like to tell you what I’ve learned doing permaculture in the desert, and how doing permaculture as a disabled person is a great idea. Please let this post serve as an introduction to how my spouse Ming and I see plants and enjoy garden life.  

We enjoy new experiences, and we have a slow, grateful pace of loving the land. We love plants as food and sibling organisms on this beautiful earth.

Laura-Marie River Victor Peace Nopales is a queer permaculturist trikewitch who enjoys zines, ecstatic dance, and radical mental health. Find her at https://www.listeningtothenoiseuntilitmakessense.com.

by

Winter Trees and Shrubs: Tulip Tree

At first glance, a tulip and a tulip tree couldn’t be more different. One is a bulb that puts out fleshy, green leaves in the spring, topped with colorful, cup-shaped flowers, barely reaching a foot or so tall. The other is a massive, deciduous tree with a broad, straight trunk that can grow to nearly 200 feet tall. But if you can get a look at the flowers, seed heads, and even the leaves of this enormous tree, you might see a resemblance – at least in the shape of these features – to one of our most popular spring flowering geophytes.

Tulip tree (Liriodendron tulipifera) is distributed across the eastern United States and has been planted widely outside of its native range. Also commonly known as tulip poplar, yellow poplar, and whitewood, it is a member of the magnolia family and is one of two species in its genus (the other being Liriodendron chinense – a tree found mainly in China). Many (if not most) deciduous trees of North America have small, inconspicuous flowers, but tulip trees – like its close relatives, the magnolias – have relatively large, showy flowers. The trouble is actually getting to see them since, at least on mature trees, they are borne in a canopy that is considerably taller than the average human.

Tulip tree flowers are cup-shaped, yellow-green and orange, with a series of prominent stamens surrounding the carpels which are attached to a long, slender receptacle giving it a cone-shaped appearance. As the flower matures into fruits, the tulip shape of the inflorescence is maintained as the seeds with their wing-like appendages form a tight, cone-like cluster that opens as the seeds reach maturity. The wings aid in dispersal as the seeds fall from the “cone” throughout the winter.

seed head of tulip tree (Liriodendron tulipifera)

The four-lobed leaves of tulip trees also form a vague tulip shape. They are alternately arranged, bright green, and up to five or six inches long and wide, turning yellow in the fall. Two prominent, oval-shaped stipules surround the stem at the base of the petiole of each leaf. These stipules come into play when identifying the leafless twigs of tulip trees during the winter months.

leaf of tulip tree (Liriodendron tulipifera) in late summer

The winter twigs of tulip trees are easily recognizable thanks to their duck bill shaped buds which are made up of two wine-red, violet, or greenish bud scales. The terminal buds are considerably larger and longer than the lateral buds, some of which are on little stalks. The twigs are smooth, olive-brown or red-brown, with just a few, scattered, white lenticels. Leaf scars are rounded with a dozen or so bundle scars that are either scattered or form an irregular ellipse. Pronounced stipule scars encircle the twig at the location of each leaf scar. Twigs can be cut lengthwise to reveal pale white pith that is separated by a series of diaphragms.

winter twig of tulip tree (Liriodendron tulipifera)
top right: the chambered pith of black walnut (Juglans nigra); bottom left: diaphragmed pith of tulip tree (Liriodendron tulipifera)

The bark of tulip trees can be easily confused with that of ash trees. Young bark is smooth and ash-gray to grayish green with pale, vertical cracks. As the tree matures, the cracks develop into furrows with flat-topped ridges. The ridges grow taller and more peaked, and the furrows grow deeper as the tree reaches maturity. In the book Winter Botany, William Trelease compares the mature bark of tulip trees to a series of parallel mountain ranges with deep gullies on either side.

maturing bark of tulip tree (Liriodendron tulipifera)

Perhaps even as tulips are blooming, the buds of tulip trees break to reveal their tulip-shaped, stipule bearing leaves. This makes for an interesting show. In The Book of Forest and Thicket, John Eastman describes it this way: “from terminal buds shaped like duck bills, successions of bills within bills uncurl and unfold, revealing a marvel of leaf packaging.”

More Winter Trees and Shrubs:

The photos of tulip tree were taken at Idaho Botanical Garden in Boise, Idaho.

by

Burr Tongue, or The Weed That Choked the Dog

It is said that the inspiration for Velcro came when Swiss inventor, George de Mestral, was removing the burrs of burdock from his dog’s coat, an experience we had with Kōura just days after adopting her. I knew that common burdock was found on our property, and I had made a point to remove all the plants that I could easily get to. However, during Kōura’s thorough exploration of our yard, she managed to find the one plant I had yet to pull due to its awkward location behind the chicken coop.

I knew when I saw the clump of burrs attached to her hind end that we were going to spend the evening combing them out of her fur. However, not long after that we discovered that Kōura had already started the process and in doing so had either swallowed or inhaled some. What tipped us off was her violent hacking and gagging as she moved frantically around the living room. She was clearly distraught, and so were we. Recognizing that she had probably swallowed a burr, we made a quick decision to take her to an emergency vet. This was our unfortunately timed (this happened on Christmas Eve) introduction to burr tongue and all the frightening things that can happen when a dog swallows burdock burrs.

The roots, shoots, and leaves of both greater burdock (Arctium lappa) and common burdock (Arctium minus) are edible, which I have already discussed in an Eating Weeds post. The burrs, on the other hand, are clearly not. While sticking to the fur of animals and the clothing of people is an excellent way for a plant to get their seeds dispersed, the sharp, hooked barbs that facilitate this are not something you want down your throat. When this occurs, the natural response is to try to hack them up, which Kōura was doing. Salivating heavily and vomiting can also help. In many cases, this will be enough to eliminate the barbs. However, if they manage to work their way into the soft tissues of the mouth, tongue, tonsils, or throat and remain there, serious infection can occur.

burr of common burdock (Arctium minus)

A paper published in The Canadian Veterinary Journal in 1973 describes the treatment for what is commonly known as burr tongue and technically referred to as granular stomatitis. The paper gives an account of what can happen when “long-haired breeds of dogs … run free in areas where [burdock] grows” and the hooked scales of the burrs consequently “penetrate the mucous membrane of the mouth and tongue.” Dogs with burrs imbedded in their mouths may start eating less or more slowly, drinking more water, and drooling excessively. As infection progresses, their breath can start to stink. A look inside the mouth and at the tongue will reveal lesions where the burrs have embedded themselves. Treatment involves putting the dog under anesthesia, scraping away the infected tissue, and administering antibiotics. Depending on the severity of the lesions, scar tissue can form where the barbs were attached.

To prevent infection from happening in the first place, a veterinarian can put the dog under anesthesia and use a camera inside the dog’s mouth and throat to search for pieces of the burr that may have gotten lodged. There is no guarantee that they will find them all or be able to remove them, and so the dog should be monitored over the next several days for signs and symptoms. At our veterinary visit, the vet also warned us that if any burrs were inhaled into the lungs, they could cause a lung infection, which is another thing to monitor for since it would be practically impossible for an x-ray or a camera to initially find them.

Luckily, now more than three weeks later, Kōura appears to be doing fine, and the offending burdock has been taken care of. One thing is for sure, as someone who is generally forgiving of weeds, burdock is one weed that will not be permitted to grow at Awkward Botany Headquarters.

For more adventures involving Kōura, be sure to follow her on Instagram @plantdoctordog.

by

2021: Year in Review

Last year at this time I was newly married in a new home that Sierra and I had just bought together. The year flew by, as they often do, and we’re back around to another Year in Review. Home ownership (among other things) has kept us busy. If you follow this blog, you may have noticed that posts were a bit more sparse than usual. That probably won’t change much going forward, but even if takes me some time to get around to posting, I plan to keep this blog going for the foreseeable future. There are still so many plants to investigate and botanical topics to explore. I hope you will follow along, even when posts are few and far between.

The big news of the day is that Sierra and I recently added a new member to our family. Not a human, but a dog. Her name is Kōura, and I would expect her to make an appearance from time to time both here on the blog as well as on our various social media accounts. We are excited for the many adventures we’ll be having with her in the months and years to come, and can’t wait to introduce her to the world.

Kōura in the snow on Christmas Day 2021

As Awkward Botany enters its tenth year, I feel incredibly grateful for everyone who has supported it along the way. To everyone who has bothered to read a post, leave a comment, share the blog with a friend, and reach out to me by various means, I appreciate you all for participating in my silly, little, plant project. Plant people are the best. Luckily, supporting Awkward Botany is easy. Apart from reading and commenting on the blog, there are social media accounts to follow, monetary donations to make (no pressure), and books to buy from our Bookshop. All relevant links can be found on Awkward Botany’s linktree (link below). Let’s stay phytocurious in 2022!

Awkward Botany Linktree

And now…

A Selection of Posts from 2021

Winter Trees and Shrubs

Book Reviews

Weeds of Boise

Eating Weeds

Drought Tolerant Plants

Tea Time

Awkward Botanical Sketches

Podcast Reviews

by

All the Plant Shows, part three

In part one and part two of this series, I introduced you to at least 23 plant-themed and plant-related podcasts. But wait, there’s more. As podcasts continue to be such a popular medium for entertainment and education, plant podcasts proliferate. You won’t see me complaining. I’m always happy to check out more botanical content. What follows are mini-reviews of a few more of the plant shows I’ve been listening to lately.

Plants Grow Here – Based in Australia, this is a horticulture and gardening podcast hosted by Daniel Fuller (and the occasional guest host). What separates it from other horticulture-related podcasts is the heavy focus on ecology and conservation. As Daniel says in the introductory episode, “there’s no point in talking about plants at any length without acknowledging that they exist within a wider web.” Daniel interviews plant experts, professionals, and enthusiasts from various parts of the globe, and while much of the focus is on horticulture topics, specifically related to gardening in Australia, there are several episodes that focus solely on the plants themselves and their place in the natural world.

Completely Arbortrary – Relatively new to the scene but an instant classic. Completely Arbortrary is hosted by Casey Clapp, a tree expert, and Alex Crowson, a tree agnostic. In each episode, Casey introduces Alex to a new tree species. After learning all about the tree, they each give it a rating (from zero to ten Golden Cones of Honor!). Sometimes the ratings will surprise you (Alex gave Bradford pear 9.1 Golden Cones of Honor). As the show has gone on, additional segments have been introduced, like Trick or Tree and listener questions. This is easily one of the best plant podcasts around, not just because you’ll learn something about trees (and who doesn’t love trees?), but because you will have a delightful time doing so with a couple of the friendliest and goofiest podcast hosts around.

Naturistic – In the same vein as Completely Arbortrary, Naturistic features host, Nash Turley, telling his co-host friend, Hamilton Boyce, about a natural history topic. At the time of this posting, there are only a handful of episodes available, and not all are plant-focused (most are about animals), but I assume more plant ones are in the works. Either way, each episode is well worth a listen. The topics are well-researched and presented in an amiable and approachable manner. There are also some nicely done videos that accompany some of the episodes.

Flora and Friends – A plant podcast based in Sweden and hosted by Judith, who is also a member of The Plant Book Club. Generally, Judith spends a few episodes with several guests diving deep into a single plant, group of plants, or plant-related topic. So far, there are series of episodes about nasturtiums, Pelargonium, Fritillaria, and forests. Sometimes the episodes are in Swedish, and when that’s the case, Judith refers listeners to a summary in English on the podcast’s website. Each episode is a casual and pleasant chat – or in other words a “botanical tea break” – about the topic at hand, which explains why Judith refers to the podcast as “your botanical cup of tea.”

Field, Lab, Earth – “A podcast all about past and present advances in the fields of agronomy, crop, soil, and environmental sciences.” Produced by a group of three professional societies – American Society of Agronomy, Crop Science Society of America, and Soil Science Society of America – and hosted by Abby Morrison. In each episode, Abby talks with a guest or guests about a research topic, often having to do with agriculture, but sometimes having to do with other aspects of plant and soil science. Listeners get behind the scenes information about how the research was conducted, as well as in depth discussions on the findings. You don’t necessarily need a background in plant and soil science to listen, as many of the basic concepts are well-explained along the way. Also, if you’re a Certified Crop Adviser or Certified Professional Soil Scientist, you can earn Continuing Education Credits by listening to each episode and taking a quiz. Major Bonus!

Backyard Ecology – An urban ecology podcast hosted by Shannon Trimboli. Nature isn’t just some far off place, it’s right outside our doors as well. With a little effort, we can make our yards and other urban spaces more biodiverse and create quality habitat for all sorts of wildlife. Plants are the foundation of our urban habitats, as is the case practically anywhere else, so even when episodes of this podcast are focused on animals, you can be sure that plants are at the heart of the conversation. Join Shannon as she, through conversations with other experts and nature enthusiasts, “ignites our curiosity and natural wonder, explores our yards and communities, and improves our local pollinator and wildlife habitat”

Talking Biotech – This is a long-running podcast hosted by Dr. Kevin Folta that aims to help people better understand the science behind genetic engineering. Folta’s university research supports plant breeding efforts, and many of the episodes of his podcast focus on plant breeding using both traditional methods and genetic engineering. A variety of other aspects and uses of biotechnology are also explored on the podcast. Folta has a passion for science communication and is adamant about debunking misinformation and sharing with the world the promise that new technologies offer us in our efforts to feed the world, improve human health, and address environmental threats. Even if you’re not generally interested in plant breeding, the discussions about the plants and the research is always very interesting and thought-provoking.

War Against Weeds – There is so much more to plants than meets the eye, and what group of plants demonstrates this better than weeds? They are our constant companions, and they are continually outwitting us. Their “craftiness” is one of the reasons I find them so intriguing. Controlling weeds is a constant battle, and few know that battle better than those who work in agriculture. After all, their livelihoods depend on it. War Against Weeds is hosted by three weed scientists whose job it is to help farmers successfully manage weeds. Each episode is a peek into what it takes to do the job. The war may never be won, and the strategies must be diverse – hence the podcast’s tagline, “silver bullets are for werewolves” – and so the conversation will continue. Luckily, we get to listen in.

Arthro-Pod – Just as the name implies, this is an entomology podcast. Insects and plants share an intimate relationship, so I consider this enough of a plant-related podcast to be included here. Plus I really like it. It came to me highly recommended by Idaho Plant Doctor, who is also really into plants and bugs. Hosted by three professional entomologists that all work in extension, Arthro-Pod is a bit like War Against Weeds, but is geared more towards the layperson than the professional. The hosts are humorous and clearly love what they do, which is why, apart from the fascinating discussions about insects, this is such a delight to listen to.

Chances are there will be a part four to this series. If you’re aware of a plant podcast that I haven’t covered yet, please let me know in the comment section below or by sending me a message via the Contact page.

by

Weeds of Boise: iNaturalist Observations

So far, the lists of weeds at each of the Weeds of Boise sites look pretty similar, with several weed species showing up at nearly every site and other species only occasionally making an appearance. This isn’t a surprise really. The flora of any region typically has several species that are dominant, along with species that occur less frequently. Wild urban flora – or in other words, the naturalized weeds in urban areas – may follow a similar pattern. My unscientific and infrequent surveys, all of which have been pretty close to where I live, aren’t yet representative of the Boise area as a whole. However, something like iNaturalist might help with that. For this reason, I took a look at iNaturalist observations to get a better idea as to which species dominate the wild urban flora of Boise, Idaho.

iNaturalist is a website and app that allows users to identify, map, and share observations of living things with the rest of the world. It has been in use for over a decade and is easily one of the most popular community science, biodiversity mapping, and identification apps around. Even though it is not the primary mission of iNaturalist, the information gathered from user observations is frequently used in scientific research and conservation efforts. With over 80 million observations worldwide, iNaturalist offers a pretty decent picture of the plants, animals, fungi, and other living things found in just about any given location. You don’t even need to a registered user to browse the observations and find out what has been spotted near you or across the globe.

In order to come up with a list of weeds that have been observed in Boise by iNaturalist users, I entered “Boise City Metropolitan Area, ID, USA” into the Location field. It is possible to narrow your search to individual neighborhoods or even broaden your search to include a larger area. Clicking on the map allows you to see the area represented in your search. For my purposes, I figured that the number of observations would change if the area covered was either smaller or larger, but the list of weed species would largely remain the same. After you select your search area, you can filter out the results. Clicking on the plant icon limits the search to plants. At first I selected only introduced plants, but that seemed to eliminate a few of the plants that I would consider weeds, so instead I scanned through the entire list of plants and made a list of each of the weed species and how many times each had been observed.

There are of course limitations to using iNaturalist to create species lists, the main one being that you are relying on decisions made by iNaturalist users when it comes to what gets reported. In my case, in which I’m looking for a list of weed species found in Boise, I know there are plenty of weeds that iNaturalist users either aren’t noticing or aren’t bothering to report. The reported observations are also not likely to match the frequency at which they occur in the environment. Still, it’s interesting to see what gets reported and how often. It’s also interesting to see reports of things that I haven’t seen before. By clicking on individual observations, you can see where those observations were made, which means I know where I can go to find species I haven’t yet encountered.

What follows is a list of the top 25 weeds in the Boise area based on the number of iNaturalist observations, along with photos of some of the most reported weeds. A few of the species on the list, like cornflower, straddle the line between weed and desirable plant. I included them anyway because they are known to be naturalized outside of garden borders, even though some of the reported observations may have been intentionally planted within garden borders.

bittersweet nightshade (Solanum dulcamara)
pink-flowered field bindweed (Convolvulus arvensis)
great mullein (Verbascum thapsus)

Top 25 Weeds in the Boise City Metropolitan Area According to iNaturalist Observations (as of September 21, 2021)

  1. great mullein (Verbascum thapsus) – 110 
  2. common dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) – 98
  3. redstem stork’s-bill (Erodium cicutarium) – 83
  4. chicory (Cichorium intybus) – 62
  5. heart-podded hoary cress (Lepidium draba) – 61
  6. cornflower (Centaurea cyanus) – 58
  7. rush skeletonweed (Chondrilla juncea) – 56
  8. purple loosestrife (Lythrum salicaria) – 49
  9. bittersweet nightshade (Solanum dulcamara) – 47
  10. alfalfa (Medicago sativa) – 46
  11. common soapwort (Saponaria officinalis) – 43
  12. dwarf mallow (Malva neglecta) – 42
  13. donkey tail (Euphorbia myrsinites) – 40 
  14. poison hemlock (Conium maculatum) – 39
  15. field bindweed (Convolvulus arvensis) – 39 
  16. bulbous meadow-grass (Poa bulbosa) – 39
  17. yellow salsify (Tragopogon dubius) – 38
  18. crested wheatgrass (Agropyron cristatum) – 37 
  19. cheatgrass (Bromus tectorum) – 36
  20. moth mullein (Verbascum blattaria) – 36 
  21. hound’s-tongue (Cynoglossum officinale) – 31
  22. Virginia creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia) – 30
  23. catnip (Nepeta cataria) – 29
  24. white clover (Trifolium repens) – 29
  25. yellow iris (Iris pseudacorus) – 28
Virginia creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia)
catnip (Nepeta cataria)
common soapwort (Saponaria officinalis)
by

Tea Time: Linden Flower Tea

Lindens make great trees for urban areas. A few species and hybrids in particular are commonly planted in parks, yards, and along the streets of cities across the northern hemisphere and have been for decades – centuries even. They cast dense shade, are tolerant of a variety of climates and soil conditions, and are generally easy to maintain. For much of the year as you move throughout the city you live in, you likely pass by dozens of lindens without thinking twice about them. They are ubiquitous, conventional, ordinary, common. Unless they’re in bloom. For a few weeks in early to mid-summer, flowering lindens produce an impossibly sweet fragrance that can’t be ignored. Along with the scent comes the sound of hundreds of buzzing bees collecting pollen and nectar from the pendulous blooms.

Lindens are trees and shrubs in the family Malvaceae and genus Tilia. Around 30 or so species are found in temperate regions across the northern hemisphere, mostly in Europe and Asia. Depending on who you ask, there are between one and three species native to North America. Tilia caroliniana and Tilia heterophylla are considered by some to be varieties of Tilia americana, or American basswood, which is distributed across central and eastern United States and north into parts of Canada. Another common name for linden is lime because words used to refer to the tree in older languages were similar to the word lime. The name basswood comes from the tree’s fibrous inner bark, known as bast.

Linden leaves are generally heart-shaped and asymmetrical with serrate margins. Small clusters of little yellow to white flowers form at the end of a slender stem attached to a narrow, ribbon-like, yellow-green bract. The bract aids in seed dispersal by helping the fruits float on the wind away from the parent tree in a manner similar to the samaras of maple trees. The fruits are small, round, hardened drupes that resemble little peas. The fragrant, nectar-rich flowers are not only favored by beekeepers for honey production, but also have a long history of being harvested for making tea (i.e. tisane). Linden flower tea is said to have a number of medicinal uses and health benefits, all of which I take with a grain of salt. This series of posts isn’t meant to be an investigation into the health claims of plants, but instead an opportunity for me – out of sheer curiosity – to try making tea out of a variety of different plants . If medicinal uses interest you, I encourage you to seek out credible, peer-reviewed sources.

I made linden flower tea from flowers I collected from Tilia cordata, commonly known as littleleaf linden. It was an easy one to find due to its popularity as an urban tree. The natural distribution of littleleaf linden extends from Britain across Europe and into western Asia. Its triangular-ovate shaped leaves are 4-10 centimeters long, glossy green on top, and pale green on the bottom with tufts of orange hairs along the leaf veins, concentrated at the base of the leaf where the leaf blade meets the petiole. The tree can reach up to 21 meters tall and has an oval or rounded-pyramidal shape, though many trees in urban areas are cultivars and can be smaller and more compact.

I harvested the flowers – bracts and all – in late June. It’s advised that they not be harvested directly after a rain (or after being hit by sprinklers), and that they are harvested when the flowers are newly opened. I presume this is because the flowers are at their freshest at this point and will be the best for making tea. I layed the flowers out to dry on a clean kitchen towel on top of a metal cake rack. It only takes 2 or 3 days for them to dry. After drying I removed and saved all the flowers and threw out the bracts and stems, but apparently you can use the entire inflorescence if you’d like.

There are several linden flower tea recipes online. I went with 3 cups of boiling water poured over 1 tablespoon dried linden flowers, covered and steeped for 15 minutes. The resulting tea was an appealing pastel yellow color. I tried it plain as well as sweetened with a little bit of honey. I preferred it sweetened, but unsweetened wasn’t too bad, just a little bitter. It has a floral taste and pleasant smell. Sierra said it tasted earthy, like something she wasn’t supposed to be drinking. Despite that odd review, she said she liked it. Since several sources discussed the calming, sleep-inducing effects of the tea, I made sure to drink it in the evening when it would be normal for me to be feeling sleepy. I suggest you do the same.

More Tea Time Posts on Awkward Botany

by

Weeds of Boise: Railroad Tracks Between Kootenai Street and Overland Road

Walking along railroad tracks is a pretty cool feeling. It’s also a good place to look for weeds. Active railroad tracks are managed for optimum visibility and fire prevention, which means that trees and shrubs near the tracks are removed creating plenty of open space on either side. Open areas in full sun are ideal places for a wide variety of weed species to grow. Trains passing through can also be sources or dispersal agents of seeds, so there’s a chance that you may see things growing alongside railroad tracks that you don’t often see elsewhere. All this means that railroad tracks in urban areas are great locations to familiarize yourself with your city’s wild urban flora.

I visited a small section of railroad tracks between Kootenai Street and Overland Road in Boise. At one point, this was a pretty active railroad. Passenger trains once moved along these tracks, and the Boise Depot, which is less than a mile from this location, was one of several stops between Portland, OR and Salt Lake City, UT. Unfortunately, those services ended in 1997 and have yet to resume, despite continued support for bringing passenger rail back to the region. Still, freight trains pass by with some frequency.

Managing weeds along railroad tracks in urban areas can be tricky. There is little else in the way of vegetation to compete with the weeds. The tracks are also adjacent to parks, homes, schools, gardens, and other locations that make herbicide applications complicated. The species of weeds can also vary widely from one mile to the next, so management decisions must also vary. It’s especially important that the ballast directly beneath and on either side of the tracks is kept weed free in order to prevent fires and improve visibility. All of this and more makes weed control along railroad tracks one of the most challenging jobs around. Luckily, for someone that likes to look at weeds, it means there will always be interesting things to see near the tracks, including for example this colony of harvester ants that I came across while identifying weeds. I was happy to see that they were collecting the samaras of Siberian elm (Ulmus pumila), one of several weedy trees in the Treasure Valley.

What follows are a few images of some of the weeds I encountered along the railroad tracks between Kootenai Street and Overland Road, as well as a list of the weeds I was able to identify. The list will grow as I identify the mystery weeds and encounter others that I missed, as is the case with all posts in the Weeds of Boise series.

Virginia creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia)
blue mustard (Chorispora tenella)
cleavers (Galium aparine)
whitetop (Lepidium sp.)
Himalayan blackberry (Rubus bifrons)
bush honeysuckle (Lonicera sp.)
Siberian elm (Ulmus pumila)
English ivy (Hedera helix)
kochia seedlings (Bassia scoparia)
  • Arctium minus (common burdock)
  • Bassia scoparia (kochia)
  • Bromus diandrus (ripgut brome)
  • Bromus tectorum (cheatgrass)
  • Chorispora tenella (blue mustard)
  • Conium maculatum (poison hemlock)
  • Convolvulus arvensis (field bindweed)
  • Cirsium arvense (creeping thistle)
  • Dactylis glomerata (orchardgrass)
  • Descurainia sophia (flixweed)
  • Elaeagnus angustifolia (Russian olive)
  • Epilobium ciliatum (northern willowherb)
  • Equisetum sp. (horsetail)
  • Erodium cicutarium (redstem filaree)
  • Galium aparine (cleavers)
  • Hedera helix (English ivy)
  • Hordeum murinum (wild barley)
  • Lactuca serriola (prickly lettuce)
  • Lepidium sp. (whitetop)
  • Lonicera sp. (bush honeysuckle)
  • Parthenocissus quinquefolia (Virginia creeper)
  • Poa bulbosa (bulbous bluegrass)
  • Poa pratensis (Kentucky bluegrass)
  • Rubus bifrons (Himalayan blackberry)
  • Rumex crispus (curly dock)
  • Secale cereale (feral rye)
  • Taraxacum officinale (dandelion)
  • Ulmus pumila (Siberian elm)

Do you live near railroad tracks? What weeds are growing there, and do you feel as cool as I do when you walk the tracks?

by

Eating Weeds: Japanese Knotweed

When I first learned that Japanese knotweed was edible, I had my doubts. Sure, lots of plants may be edible, but are they really something you’d want to eat? I know Japanese knotweed as one of the most notorious weeds on the planet. Its destructive, relentless, and prolific nature has landed it on the world’s 100 worst invasive species list, right up there with black rats, Dutch elm disease, and killer algae. Having encountered a fair number of Japanese knotweed stands, the first thing to come to mind has never been, “that looks delicious.” Mature stalks stand as tall as 3 meters with broad, leathery leaves and hollow, bamboo-like stems. Their late summer flowers – a mess of tiny white florets on sprawling flower stalks – are a pollinator’s delight and favored by beekeepers for their abundant nectar. I don’t doubt that the honey produced from such an encounter is tasty, but the plant itself? I needed convincing.

Finally, I looked into it. I came across recipes of Japanese knotweed pickles and learned that it was the young, early emerging shoots that were sought after. That changed my perspective. Certainly you wouldn’t want to gnaw on a woody, 4 foot tall Japanese knotweed stalk, but the tender stems as they’re just beginning to re-emerge from the ground in the spring? Now those might be worth trying.

emerging stems of Japanese knotweed (Reynoutria japonica)

Japanese knotweed (Reynoutria japonica) was introduced to Europe from Japan in the 1800’s, arriving at Royal Botanic Gardens Kew by 1850. At that point, it was a prized ornamental. Its thick stems spotted with reds and purples, its broad, shiny leaves, and its showy flower heads all gave it garden appeal. It was also found to be useful for stabilizing hillsides and reducing erosion, honey production, and as a rhubarb substitute (it’s in the same plant family as rhubarb after all). Not long after that, it made its way to North America. Certainly people must have been aware of its propagative prowess as they moved the plant around. It readily roots from root and stem fragments, plus it produces extensive rhizomes, working their way as deep as 3 meters into the soil and as far as 7 meters away from the parent plant. Perhaps that should have been cause for alarm, but how could anyone have predicted just how aggressive and widespread it would soon become?

Thanks to the plant’s rhizomes, Japanese knotweed grows in thick, many-stemmed stands, pushing out, shading out, and leaving very little room for other plants. The rhizomes are also tough and can push up through gravel, cement, and asphalt. They are notorious for damaging foundations, pipes, and even pushing their way through floorboards. If that’s not enough, Japanese knotweed is pretty much impossible to kill. Herbicides may set it back, but they generally don’t take it out. Cutting it down repeatedly can slow it down, but it may also encourage it to grow more thickly and spread out more widely. Smothering it can work, but you have to be prepared to keep it smothered for quite a while. The deep rhizomes are slow to die, and they may eventually find their way outside of the smothered area, popping up to destroy your efforts to contain it. You can try to dig it out, but the amount of dirt you’d have to dig to get every last root and rhizome really isn’t feasible in most circumstances.

But hey, you can eat it, and perhaps you should. A quick internet search reveals a number of ways the plant can be consumed – purees, chutneys, compotes, sorbets. I chose to go with pickled Japanese knotweed. It seemed simple and approachable enough and a good way to determine if I was going to like it or not. Room temperature brine fermentation is pretty easy. You basically put whatever you’re wanting to pickle in a jar, add whatever spices and things you’d like, fill the jar with salty water, then seal it shut and let it sit there for a few days. Before you know it, you’ve got pickles.

There are several recipes for pickled Japanese knotweed to choose from. I went with this one. The seasonings I used were a bit different, and the stalks I had weren’t as “chubby” as recommended, but otherwise my approach was the same. After a few days, I gave them a try. I was pleasantly surprised. I thought they tasted a little like nopales. Sierra reluctantly tried them and was also surprised by how good they were. They reminded her of pickled asparagus. Other sources describe them as lemony, crunchy, tart and suggest serving them with fish, ramen, or even adding them to a cocktail made with purslane. Many of the weeds I’ve tried have been a fun experience, but not necessarily something I need to repeat. Japanese knotweed pickles, on the other hand, could become a spring tradition for me, and since we’re pretty much stuck with this plant, I’m sure to have a steady supply.

More Eating Weeds Posts on Awkward Botany: