Seasonal reflections

Simply Living
For the first time in years, I’m experiencing a northern autumn. Everywhere I look, leaves are falling to the ground. Crimson reds, butterscotch yellows and all shades in between vie for attention as they swirl about on a chilly breeze.

Although I’ve lived in Florida since 1987, I grew up in Pennsylvania and spent 17 years on Cape Cod before moving south. After a long absence, my husband Ralph and I are back in the North, visiting our daughter and her family in western Massachusetts where, despite it being early November, there are still leaves ablaze with color.

Autumn has always been my favorite season. Before moving to Florida, I looked forward to the brisk weather that turned green to gold, red and orange. As temperatures dipped, I willingly slipped into soft sweaters, long pants and warm coats. I bought Winesap apples at local farms, baked pumpkin pie and picked bouquets of purple asters. I watched Canadian geese take flight while the white fluff from dried milkweed pods flew off on the wind. A northern autumn is a dramatic, in-your-face time of transition, so different from the more subtle signs of a Floridian fall.

In Florida, I learned to seek out softer shades of familiar hues. As flocks of white-eyed vireos flit from branch to branch and a pair of pied-billed grebes returns to the lake, I look for yellow flowers to form on the cassia bushes and for goldenrod and groundsel shrubs to brighten up the marsh.

Pied-billed grebe

The cooling weather causes golden rain trees to put on one of the most dazzling displays, changing from green to gold before bearing coral-colored seed pods. In place of apples, I keep a close eye on the burgeoning tangerine trees where green orbs are just beginning to turn orange. I pick starfruit and harvest the remaining bananas and papayas. I savor the scent of loquat flowers with their promise of winter fruit.

Picking starfruit

At my daughter’s house, I’m covered in layers. I wear long pants over tights, socks and insulated boots. Beneath a fleece vest, I have on a turtleneck shirt and a sweater — and that’s just when I’m indoors. A typical fall day in Massachusetts requires more clothing than the coldest winter day in Central Florida.

All bundled up for a November New England walk

Until I moved south, I took seasons for granted. Because I knew nothing else, I assumed autumns everywhere were like the ones I grew up with in the Northeast. Although I now know they’re not the same, I’ve come to love their differences. I like how in Florida, I have to put on a sweater in the morning but need to strip it off by afternoon. I like the way maple trees along wetlands turn brilliant shades of red, yellow and orange while the red berries of the dahoon holly glimmer against its glossy green leaves.

Dahoon holly berries

I like the way my husband can be busy planting a new crop of vegetables while his northern counterparts are putting their gardens to rest for winter, and I like how nice it feels to take a walk in the middle of the day without overheating.

Adding transplanted broccoli to the fall garden

But maybe most of all I like knowing both autumnal experiences are there for the taking. A trip to New England doesn’t provide just a seasonal display of brilliant color, crisp weather and fresh-pressed apple cider, it also gives me a chance to savor hugs and kisses from the little arms and sweet lips of my two-year-old twin granddaughters.

Cuddling with grandchildren is special

There are many reasons to travel north for seasonal changes but none as important as staying close to the people you love.

To plant or not to plant...

SIMPLY LIVING
When I visit my daughter in Winter Garden, I often take back roads instead of the highway.  I find back roads more interesting with their twists and turns, pretty views and occasional surprises.  Sometimes I see unexpected wildlife, but more often, I spot an unfamiliar wildflower growing along stretches of yet-to-be developed land.

Last week on the drive to Amber's house, I noticed an reddish-orange-flowered vine scrambling over the underbrush along a yet-to-be developed stretch of roadside.  

Long after I returned home, the pretty vine kept twining through my mind.  I wondered what it was and if it was a native plant or an invasive exotic.  Over the years, I’ve learned to be careful with vines.  All too often I've made the mistake of introducing attractive climbers to our landscape only to find out after they became established how difficult they are to control.

One of my (many) mistakes was adding wild blue morning glory vine to the landscape

Although I didn’t pull over last week to take clippings of the unfamiliar bloom, my resolve weakened a few days later when I found myself along the same stretch of two-lane road. 

It only took a couple minutes to pull onto the shoulder, hop out of the car - clippers in hand – and snip off a few lengths of the sprawling vine.  While there, I snapped a few pictures as well.  My plan was to look up and identify the vine when I returned home then post pictures online before planting.  If I received enough positive feedback – reassurance that it wasn’t a known problem plant and wouldn’t spread like crazy – maybe I’d add it to our landscape.

The plant turned out to be Ipomoea cocchinea (CQ), native to the eastern United States.  It has many common names including red or scarlet morning glory, scarlet creeper and redstar, a moniker referring to the star-shaped, pale orange throat of the flower’s small tubular blooms.  

Scarlet morning glory climbing across shrubs

To help me with my decision, I posted a picture of the plant to a Facebook group called Florida Botany asking if anyone had personal experience with the plant.  Before long, several members responded.

“I love these,” wrote a member based in the Florida panhandle.  “When we had them, they died back good in winter, allowing me to control their growth.”

Sharing her enthusiasm was a member based in the state’s central east coast.  “I had a volunteer show up in my mom and dad’s yard sometime ago and have not found it to be invasive at all.  In fact, I wish it would show up more, as I love it!”

Three hours later, the first negative comment arrived.  “My experience with I. Cocchinea is a little different,” wrote a Stetson University biology professor.  “I love them but have had them completely overgrow small trees.  One vine almost completely covered a dahoon holly.  Now that they are established, I get tons of seedlings every year.”

While the first two posts offered encouragement, the professor’s comment gave me pause.  His description of the vine’s aggressiveness mirrored my previous experiences with several other “found” species that I unwittingly introduced to the landscape. 

Reading over these and other comments as well as doing more online research provided much to ponder. 

On the plus side, the Florida Exotic Pest Plant Council does not consider Ipomoea cocchinea invasive.  And wildlife like it.  The vine’s small but bright colored flowers attract any number of butterflies, bees and hummingbirds.  Who wouldn’t want to add a natural hummingbird magnet to their yard?

On the negative side, it sounds like Ipomoea cocchinea will self-seed prolifically, popping up in unwanted spots like my husband’s vegetable garden.  Not a good thing.  Also, as my past experience with blue morning glory (Ipomoea indica) proved, once established it will be nearly impossible to eliminate.

While I stood by my computer weighing the pros and cons, a new comment popped up on Facebook. 

“I’ve found them to be pretty aggressive,” wrote a Florida Botany member from Crawfordville.  “I sure wouldn’t put them in my garden but might allow them out by the roadside.”

His comment offered the kind of compromise that made sense to me.  Red morning glory vine, I think you found a new home. 

A walk through the marsh

A Simply Extra

I went for a walk around the lake this afternoon and instead of taking one of the paths, I decided to forge a trail through the marsh grasses and do a little exploring.

It was pretty in the marsh.  Autumn colors of gold and white, tan and green with a splash of pink every now and then.

The farther into the marsh I went the muckier it became, but I didn't mind because I was intrigued by all the animal footprints I was seeing.

 

I'm not sure what kind of animals left their impressions in the peaty mud.  Perhaps raccoons, armadillos or maybe even bobcats.  Some of the paw prints were quite large.

Most of the plants in the marsh were tall grasses and small flowers but a few wax myrtles took root in slightly elevated areas.  I was surprised to see how many berries were on the bushes.

  

 

Although the berries could be gathered to make candles, I was content picking a few to crush in my hand, releasing their aromatic 'bayberry' scent.

Although I was only admiring the wax myrtle bushes and its fragrant berries, a little white-eyed vireo seemed rather anxious about my presence in its territory.

After leaving the marsh, I went back on one of our regular paths around the lake.  I saw a pretty passion flower that had climbed up and over a bunch of brambles.

I passed by two large holes dug out in the side of the berm.  The holes are obviously used by some animal, but I don't know who.  It could be made by an armadillo, fox, gopher tortoise, snake or...? Every time I pass that spot I always hope I'll see who lives there but so far, no luck. That doesn't mean I'll stop looking.

I did see one very unusual wildlife sighting on this particular walk but the animal was not alive.  A partially eaten body of a rabbit (I'm pretty sure it was a rabbit) was splayed across the branch of a tree.  The dead animal looked like it had been recently killed.  Maybe I scared away an owl, hawk or eagle as I was walking through that part of the forest and it left behind it's unfinished meal.

It was fun to take a walk through a different part of the property for a change although really, it doesn't matter which way I go.  I've yet to come back from any walk without seeing something - usually many somethings - memorable and exciting.

Blame it on the birds...

I’ve always considered the birds on our property to be good neighbors. The bare land we purchased in 1991 is now lush with plants, thanks in no small part to the unintended aid of avian seed dispersers.

A seed-eating male cardinal

While my husband Ralph and I use shovels to plant trees, vines, flowers and shrubs, seed-eating birds spread botanic wealth by dropping pre-fertilized nuggets onto the ground.  Sometimes those seed-containing pellets take root and grow, diversifying the landscape.  Because of the birds and squirrels, I never know what I’ll find until I walk through the many paths we maintain.

Recently, I came upon a flowering plant that made me rethink my “good neighbor” relationship with birds.

“I wonder what plant this is,” I said to Ralph and we approached a new vine with familiar leaves entwining a pine tree.  “It must be some sort of legume.  And look!  It’s flowering.”

A new plant with legume flowers, pods and leaves

Beneath a cover of compound leaves, a cluster of lavender blooms shielded several newly-formed flat, green, pea-shaped pods.  A little lower, I noticed two more pods in a different stage of development. Instead of being small and green, they were large, brown, brittle and open. Inside each dried up pod were four bright red and black “peas.”

Dried pod exposing distinctive red and black seeds

Since I had no idea what the plant was, I snapped a couple pictures to help me find out exactly what new botanical wonder was growing on our property.  As it turned out, discovering the plant’s identity was the easy part.  Figuring out what to do next proved more trying.

The vine thriving at the edge of our pinewoods is Abrus precatorius, commonly known as rosary pea because the seeds are used to make rosary beads.
  

Although a member of the legume family, rosary pea is not edible.  The seeds — those attractive bright red and black orbs within the dried pod — contain a poison called abrin, one of the most toxic in the plant kingdom.  One pea contains enough abrin to kill any horse, cow or person who unwittingly consumes it.

Birds, however, are unharmed by the plant’s potent poison.

Yes, I fear my feathered friends are responsible for the introduction into our landscape of an invasive species listed as a “Category 1” plant — the worst — by the Florida Exotic PestPlant Council.  While I may not agree with every council listing, there’s no doubt rosary pea is one plant I definitely don’t want on our property.

The more I researched Abrus precatorius, the more determined I became to eradicate this invasive exotic before it establishes an even stronger foothold.

Image courtesy of www.coralsprings.org

However, rosary pea, in addition to being toxic, is extremely difficult to get rid of.  The root delves deep into the ground while the vine climbs high over trees, shrubs and anything else it can grab.  In addition to being spread by birds dropping seeds, it also spreads by sending out new shoots.

I’m not a proponent of herbicides, but this plant’s toxic nature offers few other options.  Although the organic gardener part of me wants to chop down, uproot and bag the few vines we currently have, my more cautious self says, ‘Spray them with Roundup and be done with it.’

Unfortunately, while I’m deciding what to do, cheery little songbirds are probably consuming more seeds and thus spreading additional rosary pea plants across our property and beyond.

Western palm warbler

I’d like to think the birds and I work together to make the land we share a more beneficial habitat for all creatures, but I’ve come to realize our agendas differ.  I want a land filled with harmless botanical beauties.  Birds?  Well, they’re just after a safe place to live and good food to eat.

Rosary peas might provide birds with nourishment.  To me, they are just another problem to solve.

WHAT IS A CATEGORY 1 PLANT?

According to the Florida Exotic Pest Plant Council, category 1 plants are “invasives when they are altering native plant communities by displacing native species, changing community structures or ecological functions, or hybridizing with natives. This definition does not rely on the economic severity or geographic range of the problem, but on the documented ecological damage caused.”

To learn more, visit the council’s webpage: www.fleppc.org

'Eat Cake' is a sweet read

SIMPLY LIVING
A favorite book is like an old friend.  You may not be together often but when you are, it feels like you’ve never been apart. It’s one of those relationships that span time and space to supply a much-needed embrace with every encounter.  

That’s how I felt recently when I reread Jeanne Ray’s 2003 novel, Eat Cake.  More than any other book on my shelves, Eat Cake has provided nourishment and encouragement in times when I’ve felt a loss of both.

Despite its title, Eat Cake isn’t a cookbook, although Ray includes recipes for all the cakes mentioned in the story.  It’s also not a book about vampires, psychotic killers, gun-slinging detectives or alien invaders.  For reasons I cannot begin to fathom, those topics seem to permeate so many of today’s popular novels, movies and TV shows. 

Rather than taking the reader on a nightmare-inducing journey into an imaginary landscape of evil and wrongdoings, the Tennessee-based author serves up a sweet and satisfying slice of modern day life complete with believable characters attempting to overcome everyday obstacles and stresses.  Much to my delight, the 225 pages of this homespun tale are filled with humor and optimism instead of despair and sordidness. 

I remember the first time I picked up Eat Cake.  I was lying in bed next to my husband.  After only a few pages into the book, I began laughing.  When Ralph asked me what was so funny, I went back to the beginning and began to read the first chapter aloud: 

“This is the story of how my life was saved by cake, so, of course, if sides are to be taken, I will always take the side of cake.”

The main character, Ruth, goes on to explain how a class on stress reduction at the local Y taught her to visualize a place where she felt completely safe and peaceful.  While her classmates chose their childhood bedroom or a beach in Jamaica, Ruth found herself visualizing a cake, specifically “the warm, hollowed-out center of a Bundt cake.”

“It’s about being inside of cake,” Ruth explains, “being part of something that I find to be profoundly comforting.”

Comfort is definitely lacking in Ruth’s complicated home life shared with her suddenly unemployed husband, college-aged son, sullen teenage daughter and elderly mother.  When her estranged father moves in too because an accident immobilizes both of his hands, Ruth’s world begins to fall apart faster than a slice of crumb cake. 

Fortunately, a good baker knows what to do to keep the pieces together.  With a little bit of this and a touch of that, with the right combination of hard work, humor, cooperation and positive attitude, almost any obstacle can be overcome.

I like realistic books that provide encouragement and hope in exchange for the investment of a few hours of time.  I like books that make me feel better at the end than I did before I began reading.  Eat Cake may not be as deep a read as some might prefer but, like a good piece of cake, its very lightness and sweet flavor denotes quality. 

Eat Cake is the kind of book meant to be shared with others.  Over the years, I’ve given copies to family members and close friends.  Like all of Jeanne Ray’s novels - she has written four other books as well - Eat Cake is a tasty treat that will be remembered long after the last page is read.  A review in the Library Journal said, “Funny, believable, and full of surprises, this novel, like time with a good friend, is over far too soon.” 

Dragonflies...Yes. Mosquitoes...No

Dragonfly resting on redroot flower

SIMPLY LIVING

In the late afternoon, Ralph and I were sitting in the gazebo talking with a visitor when the topic of mosquitoes came up.  “Do you have many?” our guest asked.  With a lake within sight, I’m sure he imagined our response to be, “Yes.” 

Instead, we told him “No.  Thanks to dragonflies and bats, mosquitoes aren’t that bad here.”

Our response was reinforced that evening when Ralph and I took a pre-dark dip in the lake.  As we lolled in the sun-warmed water, a swarm of dragonflies filled the sky. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many dragonflies at once,” I exclaimed as a battalion of drone-sized fliers zoomed back and forth above our heads. 

The dragonflies were large – two to three inches long – and they flew with intention, showing no signs of hesitancy or indecision.  They didn’t land upon reeds as they do during daytime nor were they chasing each other in territorial battles or mating maneuvers.  Instead, they flew fast and furious, focused, it seemed, on a single mission: Catching bugs.  

I was awestruck watching them sweep across the lake, fortunate to be protected by troops of aerial warriors.

Red skimmer dragonfly on bog button

 

Between dragonflies and bats, which appear shortly after the dragonflies, the mosquitoes that live around our lake have much to fear.  Both consume quantities of bugs.  Although dragonflies and bats are both voracious carnivores, a dragonfly’s predatory skills are so well honed it manages to catch 95 percent of its prey.  In addition to mosquitoes, dragonflies also eat flies, gnats, bees, moths, butterflies and even the occasional spider in whose web they might find themselves entangled.

Bog buttons seem to be favorite landing pads for dragonflies of all colors and sizes

The wind wasn’t blowing as Ralph and I enjoyed our soak, and after the dragonflies appeared, it remained calm for about 15 minutes.  Then suddenly, a strong breeze blew in and our airborne navigators vanished.  We were still in the water a short time later (it felt too pleasant to get out) when the wind subsided and the dragonflies returned.  Around the same time, about half-dozen bats swooped in to do their sonar-directed search for supper above the lake and surrounding shoreline.

“Do you think we did anything to attract them,” Ralph asked as we dried off with towels on the way to the house.  We’d finally managed to extract ourselves from the lake’s warm water, leaving the dragonflies and bats behind to continue their feeding frenzy without a human audience.   

Although I didn’t have a definitive answer to his question, I presume dragonflies and bats live on our property because they find the habitat suitable.  There are plenty of dead trees for cavity-roosting bats to live in, shallow, marshy areas for dragonflies to frequent and no harmful pesticides or herbicides to disturb natural rhythms.  I also realize their presence could just as easily be the result of chance.

A few days later, we once again found ourselves lolling in the warm water in the twilight hours after a busy day of work.  As usual, dragonflies flew overhead albeit fewer this time than before.

Close-up of blue dasher dragonfly

“I love watching dragonflies,” I said from my semi-submerged perch.  “I may not know why they’re here, but I’m glad they are.”

As daylight diminished, we headed inside for dinner, happy to know that while we were dining on a vegetable stir-fry, a contingent of natural predators was zooming back and forth above the lake feasting on meals of their own.

Hello beautiful spider!

A Simply Extra
I've been posting a lot of spider pictures lately, which I know creeps many people out, but to me spiders are not only beneficial but beautiful critters.  I love learning about their unique features, habits and lifestyles.  

Below are three pictures of Nephila clavipes, a gorgeous web-spinning arachnid that is especially prevalent in the woods during late summer/autumn.

Many people know Nephilia clavipes by its common names of golden silk orb weaver or banana spider

The golden silk orb weaver's web really does look like spun gold as it shimmers in the sunlight 

I took these pictures along the outer edge of a grove of Vivax Bamboo where the spider's web stretched across a distance of about 10-feet 

This festival is for the birds!

Simply Living

I’m looking forward to the 2nd Annual Wings and Wildflowers Festival, which is set for Oct. 4 through Oct. 6 at Hickory Point Park in Tavares. Last year, I went to the festival for a few hours and came home with several wildflower plants that I had wanted to add to my garden for quite a while.

I didn’t make time last year to attend any of the field trips or workshops, but this year I hope to participate in several. The festival offers more than 100 programs, the majority at no charge. There are kayak, canoe and pontoon trips, guided walks to see birds, butterflies and Florida native plants, photography workshops, how-to presentations and a wide variety of educational and hands-on activities geared to children and families.

Florida scrub jay

Among the events in which attendees can participate is a field trip to see the rare Florida scrub jay, birds that exist in only a few parts of the state, including parts of Lake County. They can watch Swamp Girl Adventure shows, walk through a butterfly enclosure and learn how and when to plant a wildflower garden.

Black-eyed Susans

Keynote speakers include James Currie, host and producer of the popular adventure birding show, Nikon’s Birding Adventures on NBC Sports, and birding expert Jeffrey Gordon an author, photographer, speaker and tour leader who is the president of the American Birding Association. Forty-four other local experts are also slated to lead presentations, talks and tours.

James Currie

Jeffrey Gordon

I’m glad the county, which sponsors the event through Lake County Economic Development and Tourism Department, has chosen to focus attention on the many natural wonders that surround us every day. It’s easy to take for granted our area’s uniquely hilly topography, glistening waterways and diverse natural resources. We may live in Lake County, but we often overlook the small creatures and plants that share our humble slice of Florida terrain. While there are plenty of venues for sporting events, shopping trips and civic activities, the Wings and Wildflower Festival provides a unique opportunity for native plants, butterflies, birds and other wildlife to take center stage.

Zebra longwing on native porterweed

Last year, I attended more as an afterthought than a planned excursion. This year will be different. I will be going to the festival to gain knowledge but also to have fun. I want to surround myself with beauty in the form of plants and wildlife, and I am going so I can be among others who share my love for nature and value the preservation of wildlife and wild areas.

There is no fee to drive through the gates at Hickory Point, get out of the car and walk around the vendor’s area. There is no cost to attend most of the programs, workshops, field trips and other festival offerings. The only investment one needs to make is a willingness to take time to prioritize nature and appreciate the often underappreciated wonders of our everyday life.

Last year, I invested a few hours of time and gained several new wildflowers, which all are thriving in their new homes. I have no idea what treasures I’ll return with this time, but I’m confident the outing will be time well spent.

For more information and to sign up for activities, visit www.wingsandwildflowers.com

And what did you have for breakfast?

A Simply Extra

I got sidetracked on my way to breakfast this morning when I noticed a flutter of broad dark wings down by the lake.  I grabbed my camera and rushed outside certain of an imminent wildlife encounter.  

Sure enough, that's what I got.  A great blue heron had just caught and was struggling to swallow a thin, black water snake.  Rather than risk scaring the heron, I stayed back and zoomed in so as not to disturb the heron's breakfast even as mine own meal sat cooling on the kitchen table.

Click, click, click went the camera as I watched the large bird lift and turn its head this way and that to better maneuver its meal down its throat.

Lucky me for being in the right spot at the right time.  Lucky bird for scoring such a filling meal.  By the way, my own meal of hot oatmeal was still warm when I finally came back inside and was ready to sit down.  

What a great way to start the day!

Green lynx spider

A Simply Extra
On recent rows in the lake, I've seen quite a few green lynx spiders (Peucetia viridans) with captured prey.

This green lynx spider captured a beautiful golden-winged dragonfly.  I love the way the bright green color of the spider contrasts with the dragonfly's bright yellow wings.

Unlike web-spinning spiders that build sticky traps for unsuspecting insects to fly into, the green lynx stalks and pounces on prey much like a wildcat does.

A fierce predator, the green lynx will eat just about anything.  Bees, wasps, beetles, flies, grasshoppers and even other spiders become victim to the green lynx's aggressive hunting.

This large black and yellow argiope, a web-spinning spider, must have wandered into the wrong place and fell victim to the aggressive green lynx

While the green lynx is dangerous to other spiders and insects, it seldom bites people.  When it does (which usually happens only if a person disturbs a female spider guarding her egg sac), the bite is not harmful.

Insects, on the other hand have reason to avoid this nimble hunter. The green lynx spider has excellent eyesight, moves quickly and has the ability to spit venom at it's targeted prey.  Because it kills so many bugs that are agricultural pests, the green lynx is considered a beneficial spider.  However, there's some debate about that label since it is not particularly discriminating and will kill beneficial bugs as well.