Author: girl

new life birds on the Delaware Bay

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This week we got up early on Saturday to travel to Delaware for the Migratory Bird Festival at Bombay Hook. Our goal was to see new shorebirds, and we were successful, even with the high water remaining from last week’s storms. After getting up at 4:30am, we were on the road at 5:20am. This was the first time I’d gotten on the road before dawn in order to see birds, another small milestone in the evolution of my birding hobby. Most organized birding events start at such ungodly hours, so I expect I’ll be doing more of that in the future. The first time around, though, I was grateful to not have to drive myself or interact with strangers before my morning coffee.

The drive was mostly uneventful; the weather was clear and we made good time. On the Bay Bridge I made the mistake of looking out at the water with binoculars: I’ve never gotten nauseous so quickly in my entire life. The remaining hour drive with the windows down restored me mostly to normal, but I now understand the warnings about going on pelagic birding tours. At the refuge we doused ourselves from head to toe in DEET and gathered outside the visitors’ center for our boat ride through the salt marsh (the reason we’d planned to arrive so early). The ride was fun, although it didn’t yield as many bird sightings as we’d hoped as a result of the recent flooding. We heard the distinctive Clapper Rail in the grasses, flushed a Spotted Sandpiper, which then made its jerky-winged way down the channel in front of us for a fair stretch, and saw groups of Dowitchers and smaller birds winging their way overhead. The small number of birds was less of a disappointment than losing my hat to the wind and water; I was able to replace it with a new one from the gift shop, but it won’t be the same as my old smiling-girl-on-a-bike one that I’d had since doing the AIDS ride five years ago.

After the boat ride, the new hat, an early lunch, and the receipt of a free native Summersweet cutting for our home garden, we set out to bird the auto tour. As hoped, we soon discovered shorebirds aplenty, almost all of them new. At the first pond, we came across the flock of American Avocets, beautiful large graceful birds. They flew off before we could get a close look at them, however we saw them in flight several times through the afternoon and caught up with them at a later point on the tour. It took us a while to get into the habit of seeing the smaller brown birds, but eventually we got better: we would simply scan the landscape two or three times until their shapes jumped out at us from the same patches of reeds we’d previously passed over, much like those brain teasing posters at the mall. In this way we were able to identify the enormous flocks of Semipalmated Sandpipers and Black-bellied Plovers that were flying in and landing in large clusters as the tide rose in the outer parts of the refuge. In with this group was a single Semipalmated Plover; near but not intermingled we tracked a small group of Least Sandpipers and a couple of beautiful light gray Baird’s Sandpipers foraging along the water’s edge.

Once we’d had our fill of the refuge we decided to try our luck at the beaches down the coast a bit. Because Bombay Hook is predominantly salt marsh, it’s hard to spot those birds that don’t like to travel inland. We were hoping to get a look at some of the legendary long-distance migrants that stopped at this stretch of shore to gorge on horseshoe crab eggs before continuing north. Our first two attempts to make it to a beach ended in ‘road closed’ signs, an artifact of the earlier flooding. Pickering Beach Road was open, though, and we headed to the beach, dutifully following the marked public access route. On the beach, serendipity took over: we followed a large shorebird down the beach to the right, successfully identifying it as a Willet before it flew off. It led us to a stretch of sand that looked out onto what appeared to be a heap of old tires; I eventually concluded that it must have been a purposefully created outcrop designed to make up for the lack of large rocks along that part of the shore. At first glance the tires yielded only a single enormous gull, which neither my partner nor I found worthy of comment. Finding nothing else of interest on the beach to train the binoculars on, we both returned to the large gull only to discover that the tires were completely covered with medium-sized shorebirds after all: the very birds we’d traveled to the beach to try to see! A group of twenty or thirty Ruddy Turnstones were hanging out there — resting, no doubt, after their journey from South America — and a single pair of Red Knots was keeping us company. The decent size of the birds in combination with their distinctive markings — it’s hard to confuse the rusty back and stark head pattern of the Ruddy Turnstone or the salmon and gray combination of the Red Knot — allowed us to identify them conclusively, even with our minimalist binoculars.

The sighting of these two birds was the perfect end to the day, allowing us to return home on a high note of success rather than continuing to head down the shore getting ever more tired and frustrated. I was proud of myself for sighting seven new life birds, most of them painstakingly identified by the two of us without outside assistance. And, I have another free plant for the garden!

new life birds on the Delaware Bay

garden log : new iris bed planted

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The new bed of crested irises.

I took advantage of the few days between downpours this week to clear the liriope from under the smaller dogwood and prepare a bed for the crested irises I’ve had sitting on the porch in boxes. It’s far too late for them to bloom this year, but they’re reported to spread easily and aggressively, so I’m hoping they’ll do that over the next couple of months. In an effort to both contain that spread somewhat and create a visual boundary between the bed and the composter, I edged the bed with bricks scavenged (with permission) from our neighbors’ old patio.

While working on the bed I was amused to have a pair of catbirds hanging around chattering at me. I could tell they were just waiting for me to move back a bit so they could get at all the food I was turning up with the soil. The dirt around the tree was chock full of worms; whether that was because that part of the yard is healthier than the front or because they’re staying closer to the surface of the saturated ground, I couldn’t tell you. I was reminded of our efforts to clear the pokeweed roots last summer and the way the catbirds flocked to the turned over soil. This year’s birds haven’t gotten used to us yet, I don’t think: none of them were as bold as the ones from the previous year. Already I can tell that I need to put down a thicker layer of mulch, as the squirrels have been successfully pock-marked the bed in only two days.


The wee rose bush at the back of the house.

One of my goals for this year is to create a better environment for the four rose bushes in the yard. I am pleased to say that the pruning I gave them last autumn seems to be helping them bush out quite a bit more this year. They’re coming in quite well, and the two smaller ones already have lovely deep blooms. I know that I need to create more space around them, as they’re getting choked by weeds and being kept from drying out. I suspect the bushes are over 25 years old, possibly longer; I don’t think the previous owners planted any. One at least, the deep red very fragrant low-growing bush at the back of the house, appears to be Crimson Glory, quite possibly from soon after its introduction as a new hybrid tea rose in 1936 (the year our house was built). It’s odd to imagine a rose older than our parents just plunked at the back of our house, but nice to have the continuity with the original owners. I hope to have as much luck identifying the three other plants!

garden log : new iris bed planted

garden log : spring growth and more plant refugees

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The new mini-bed of irises and prickly pear.

In keeping with my efforts to preserve all the plants I find around my yard, I volunteered to provide homes for any leftovers from the town’s annual plant exchange. I arrived home on Sunday evening to find bags of plants on the porch: bluebells, irises, prickly pear cactus, chives. The next day I cleared the grass from the front corner of the house to create a small bed that should get sun almost all day long. Into that bed, following the removing of roots and the mixing in of humus, I planted the irises. I love irises, and hope to someday have them all over the yard in various shapes, sizes, and colors. For now I will content myself with these refugees, as nearly all of the places I might plant irises, in particular the south facing wall of the garage, have several years to go before they’ll be suitable locations. Which is to say: they’re all completely overgrown with honeysuckle and the like at the moment.

Next to the irises, in some sandy soil that I did not enrich with humus, I planted a few pieces of the prickly pear. I look forward to seeing how it does there, and I hope that it won’t eventually grow so large as to prevent the gas company from reading the meter. I’m told they now have laser readers that can be used from a distance, but we’ll see. The chives I planted near the lavender at the corner of the porch, and the bluebells I passed along to my neighbor. We have bluebells in our yard already, and I’m still deciding where I’ll move them. I keep talking about moving them to the base of the maple tree in the front, but that seems like work, all that adding soil around the tree and digging up from around the rosebush and transplanting. At any rate, it hasn’t happened yet, and I decided that bluebell refugees I had aplenty. I also passed along some pachysandra, a ground cover of which another neighbor is very fond. So, our block did well from the plant exchange!


The clump of spiderwort that emerged from the swath of liriope last year.

One of the funny little surprises of our yard has been the clump of spiderwort that appeared last year seemingly out of nowhere. It’s not hard to believe that it’s been dormant under the carpet of liriope for years, but how many years is the question that fascinates us. Spiderwort appears to be native to this area, and I’ve seen it in beds around town. It’s not the most elegant plant on the planet—its spiky leaves flop all over each other and the somewhat delicate flowers get a bit lost in the foliage—but it’s a lovely deep purple and it blooms for a long time. I haven’t decided where I’ll move it; I suspect it’s destined for one of the many beds that live only in my imagination. In the meantime, I’ve cleared a little space around it and am letting it be.


The rhododendron, taking off this year.

Another plant that is creating somewhat of a quandary for us is the large rhododendron at the back of the house. On the one hand, we hate it. My partner is allergic to rhododendrons, so we’ve spent years developing a fierce dislike of the plant. Plus, it’s pink, and I’m already struggling to accept the roses, peonies, and azaleas in all their pink glory. It’s also smack in the spot that is destined to be the patio or screen porch: the one that also lives only in my imagination. As such, we’ve been trying to offer the plant to friends and neighbors alike to no avail. On the other hand, it’s a lovely plant and is likely nearly as old as our parents. After several years of neglect and poor weather—it allegedly used to be taller than the single-story addition—it’s growing and putting out all kinds of blooms. Having gotten no takers on our offers to pass it along to a yard where it will be loved and cherished rather and cursed and reviled, we’re starting to become fond of it in our own hateful way. It’s possible that when we do finally move it, it will be to another location in our own yard.


Our original peony plant, putting out all kinds of buds after having last year’s choking weeds cleared from around it.

Finally, the plant that has been the best gift of the yard is the peony. Tucked away near the back fence, it was completely choked with vines and weeds when we moved in. Last spring we cleared most of the weeds away from its base, and it produced quite a few blooms. We also received some refugee peonies from our neighbors down the road, and they seem to have mostly survived; I think we lost the smallest in the drought. It looks like we’ll get one flower from them, which is more than I expected, but they’ve all put up shoots and look to be photosynthesizing away.

It appears that luck is with me, as it will be raining for the next few days, creating perfect weeding weather: cool with nice soft soil. I am determined to make major progress on the backyard over the next couple of weeks, while it’s still arguably spring. I have no desire to repeat last year’s experience of trying to eradicate weeds that had settled in for the long haul at the height of the summer. I remind myself that we’re making enormous progress, and the photo record certainly helps to keep that clear. So, next week I hope to be reporting that I finally planted out those poor little crested irises I’ve had sitting on the porch for weeks!

garden log : spring growth and more plant refugees

media literacy 101

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Today’s article in the Wall Street Journal — ‘Latinos not the plague of society as previously believed‘ — is an excellent example of why I hammered away at my students year after year about their media deconstruction skills. It’s not even necessary to be aware of the retrograde politics of the Wall Street Journal to locate this article appropriately: it’s all there from word one of the headline. Beyond the basic shocked premise of the article and before we get to the ‘shoulda built that wall when ya had the chance’ quote, we know exactly where we stand with this paper.

The authors could have chosen any word to describe the burgeoning Latino/a population in the United States: growth, expansion, increase. There are myriad forward-looking pro-development progress-marches-on ways of describing the data, both neutral and positive. The Wall Street Journal chose ‘surge.’ Surge. In this way we are encouraged to link the normal event of people having children with the insurgency — a beaut of a connotation-laden reality-twisting label right there — we’re told nearly every day is a threat to our lives in the United States.

These types of linguistic sleights of hand are so pervasive that they’re easy to miss and tempting to ignore; yet, if you read the paper every day you might end up sounding like Polly-the-right-wing-parrot to those of us who actively don’t. I wish I could say that an education in media literacy created an army of deconstructionist lefties out of my students, but it generally did not. The two biggest points I would have likely heard in their analyses would have been: (1) The Wall Street Journal hates Latino/as, and (2) surge is a stupid word, don’t use it.

While I can’t say I disagree fundamentally on either point, I hold out hope for more nuanced understandings with each example I am compelled to point out. In the meantime, I combine both points into a rule of life that works well for me: The Wall Street Journal is a stupid paper, don’t read it.

media literacy 101

garden log : rain rain rain

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The front daylily bed, exploding with growth.


Aster at the end of the front bed, looking like it might actually get bushy this year.

It’s been raining! This is a good thing, both for the new shrubs and the region as a whole. Coming from farmland, I’m always appreciative of the rain, but this year more than ever after last year’s drought. The rain and other commitments have kept me from charging full speed ahead on the yard. I’ve mown the lawn, but it’s mostly been a sit-back-and-watch-things-grow sort of week. I’m glad to see the aster coming up so lushly, as it’s been quite scruffy for the past two years. It’s susceptible to pests, but it’s been hard to tell how what was a pest and what was simple lack of water; my philosophy on yard plantings has been ‘survive or die with the water that falls from the sky’ which meant that last year was hard on a lot of things. This year, though, they all seem to be recovering pretty well, so we’ll see how it goes.


The pink azalea at the side of the house coming into bloom.

Azaleas are extremely popular in this area, for reasons which no one has quite been able to explain to my satisfaction. I understand that there are native varieties, but it’s not clear to me which those are. At any rate, our yard included fewer azaleas than most when we acquired it—only two—and I’ve been trying to keep them alive. Knowing absolutely nothing about azaleas, this has been a bit of a challenge. As with everything else in the yard, they were quite scraggly when we moved in. Following the advice of one of my many ‘help me, I know nothing about flowers!’ books, I pruned them back relatively hard last year before they bloomed. They both did bloom, the white one in the front foundation bed and the pink one around the corner of the house. With last year’s drought and the warm winter that caused them to put out buds in February, which all promptly died in March’s freezing weather, they didn’t exactly fill in as much as I’d hoped. I’ve been on the verge of fertilizing the front one for weeks, as it was yellowed and half-dead looking, but the rain seems to have revived it. It’s not likely to bloom this year, but it’s putting out fresh green leaves and perking up quite a bit, so I’ll hold off on the fertilizer for now. I have no objections to fertilizer, I just haven’t cleared and mulched that bed yet, so I wasn’t relishing clearing away the leaf muck to properly apply the HollyTone. If we have a similar winter next year, I’ll get organized to treat it a bit next spring. I promise.


The self-seeding poppy bed just starting to come into bloom.

One of the areas of the yard that’s thriving from neglect is the poppy patch adjacent to our back walk. Each year I’ve let it go to seed and avoided mowing the sprouts as they come up in the spring, and each year I’ve been rewarded with a nice bright patch of poppies. I see no reason to keep them from doing their thing when there is so much else to be done in the yard. At some future point I figure that I’ll just pull them out before they set seeds if I don’t want them. In the meantime, they’re cheery and not hurting anything so there they stay. It appears likely that the bluebells, which are also in full bloom, will remain where they are at least until the autumn (note to self: mark their location with a little flag thingy so that you can dig up the bulbs and move them).


The crocus bed: humus-enriched, mulched, and edged.

In terms of my own labor in the yard this week, I did very little. I mowed the (front) lawn. I hired the tree people to spray bacteria on the Eastern tent caterpillar nest, which seems to have been successful as we’ve seen little caterpillar corpses on the back walk (not that I’ve been looking too closely). I pulled up dandelions by the dozens—some before they went to seed, even!—although still not nearly enough to keep them from cropping up again, especially given their prevalence through the whole block. And, I edged the new bulb bed with bricks to keep everything from running away down the sidewalk, added an inch or so of (store-bought) humus, and covered the whole thing with pine bark chips (my mulch of choice). I hold out absolutely no hope of getting any blooms in there this year, but instead am eagerly waiting to see what survives until next spring and what kind of flowers I might get then. To that end I’m just letting the scruffy greens do their photosynthesizing energy-storing thing.

My goals for May remain the same: weed, mulch, and remember that it doesn’t all have to get done right now.

garden log : rain rain rain