If you're looking for a short (1-2ft.) pretty purple fall bloomer that is able to thrive in moist soil and full or partial sun, try the Bottle Gentian. The unique flower petals are fused creating a bottle-shaped tube. The only pollinators that are able to muscle their way into the strange flower bottles are bumble bees. It's pretty fun to watch. I'm assuming that the advantage to the Gentian may be that this obstacle course ensures a nice heavy dusting of pollen.(?)
Don't believe the lie about the filing cabinets... And I prefer to call it extreme curiosity, but thanks for the shout-out, Kett, if that's what that was. ;) Anyway, I've got a crazy caterpillar story: I was out in our new Maine East vegetable garden with Mr. PappaG and Mr.Skelton Friday looking for some healthy treats to bring home for the weekend. Skelton informed us that the Morning Glories were choking the broccoli, so when I pulled the heap of offenders out this nice, plump guy/gal (see pic below) was revealed, munching on fennel. Nice colors, huh? Black Swallowtail Butterfly - they're pretty abundant in North America. They eat plants in the carrot family (dill, fennel parsley, Queen Anne's Lace, etc.)
Determined to protect him from harm and not to miss the prepupal ritual and transformation, I placed him in the tank with the Monarch chrysalis and brought him home for the weekend. On the ride home I got a little anxious as I saw him approach the Monarch cocoon. The tank can't be opened now due to the precarious position of the Monarch. After yelling and stressing (even some tapping on the tank at stoplights) awaiting the impending sabotage or who knows what, then brainstorming about who to pull over and call for advice, I realized it was really just caterpillar curiosity. (?) Calm down... He moved on.
I got him home and watched as he spun a silken attachment pad on the side of the tank then kept reinforcing a "girdle" strand that would hold his upper body as he leaned back.
So exciting to watch, but then I MISSED the best part! Sitting on the couch only six feet away but immersed online, I missed the whole transformation. To the left you see the skin he shed and the fresh chrysalis still suspended by the girdle. What a drag - below is what I suppose it must have looked like (mute the video - the fake sloppy shedding sounds are gross):
This species doesn't migrate like the Monarch. They spend all Winter in their cocoon, believe it or don't. The last generation of the year emerges in August or September, so this one could become a butterfly in a week or stay put for the next seven months. I guess we'll wait and see! You can actually put them in the refrigerator with a damp cloth until April. Wish I would've known and I'd have put him in a container 1/50th the size. Ah, well - we'll find a nice safe spot for him outside.
And the Monarch's light green chrysalis with shiny gold rim is now thinning enough to see the black wings inside. I'm guessing we'll be setting him free tomorrow afternoon. Would that there were an inexpensive remote-sensing mini-camera to strap to his back... !
It’s understandable that when the word “butterfly” is heard, one gets excited. What’s not to love about any of the members of order Lepidoptera (I seriously knew that)? Go ahead and add the word “garden” on top of “butterfly” and you’ve got a recipe for some real excitement.
*True story, when I first met Ms. Childress, I mentioned butterfly gardens to her and she started running around the office, screaming and knocking over filing cabinets.
I’ve met people who were passionate before, but until I met her and found out about her passion for butterflies and gardens (see anecdote above*), I had no idea what passion was. Over the summer, she was quite often found amidst her plants (or her “babies”). Once I even saw her arguing with one. She’sfirm, but fair.
Some of her more precious babies include the Rattlesnake Master (see below), a member of the carrot family (!) that is common in most Illinois counties, sans those in Southwest Illinois. Fun fact: Pioneers originally thought that the root could be used as an effect antidote to the bite of a rattlesnake, (hence,the name) but they were way off. Perhaps that’s why so many pioneers died; that, and dysentery.
We also actually have an endangered species in our garden, the Small Sundrops, which is normally foundout on the East coast and only blooms during the day, so that’s alright. This one was a recent adoption from Oakton Ken, still a tiny baby and hasn't bloomed yet, so look it up yourself if you want to see it in all it's glory.
On top of that, we’ve got the Eastern Prickly Pear cactus. That’s right, a cactus in the Midwest. Talk about it. We’ll let that sink in.
Once you check your heart rate, go ahead and read on at your own risk.
You may have just missed the yellow blooming of one of the tallest plants in our haven(right by the Southwest corner of the building), and that would be the Compass Plant, an essential component to any prairie that’s worth admiring. Pioneers believed that it’s leaves always faced in the North/South direction, and while that may be true more often than not, it’s not always reliable. We certainly wouldn’t call those pioneers a “credible source” with their “fringe” and “manifest destiny” and “cholera” and “having to caulk the wagon and float across the river.”
**Authors note: I don’t remember a lot from “history,” but I did play a lot of Oregon Trail as a child.
