VINES WE LOVE TO HATE... OR NOT

The amorphous malaise continues. Maybe I’ve developed a sensitivity to increased atmospheric carbon dioxide. Regardless of what my problem is, burgeoning CO₂ levels makes vining plants very happy indeed. In 2007, USDA scientist Lewis Ziska published a study in Weed Science saying that, since the 1950s, vines grow more vigorously and spread with devil-may-care aplomb; they’re harder to kill; and, most ominous of all, the effects of the itchy-rashy substances in the skin-irritating ones are magnified.  If you’ve battled any of the following in your yard, you know he's right.

Poison ivy counts as the worst offender by my reckoning. Urushiol, the chemical that causes the irritation, rash, blistering, oozing and itch, is present in the leaves, stems, woody parts and roots. It remains active even after the plant dies. Some hyper-sensitive unfortunates even react if exposed to the smoke of burning poison ivy, developing lesions in their mouths, noses, throats and lungs. Can you imagine?



Poison ivy, with leaves of three
Toxicodendron radicans

            Growing up in the swamps of southeastern Virginia provided opportunities aplenty for close encounters: Girl Scout Camp Skimino was redolent with the appropriately named Toxicodendron radicans (the genus translates to “poisonous wood”). My dearest childhood friend, Ginny Black, had only to pass within 30 feet of a strand to start scratching. Because children are cruel, all of the urushiol-invulnerable Scouts giggled at her misery. In those days, I could roll in the stuff and suffer no ill effect.  The day I turned 50, however, my immunity switched off. If balance exists in the universe, as I believe it does, Ginny’s curse disappeared around the same time, and she gets the last laugh. Fifteen to 30% of people are completely immune: the rest suffer at differing times in their lives (like Ginny and me) and with differing intensities.



More deeply lobed poison oak leaflets
Toxicodendron pubescens

Regarding poison ivy, our Scout handbook taught us the ditty, “Leaves of three, let it be.” This is sound advice for the fearful, akin to “Better safe than sorry.” One of life’s little ironies, it’s easier said than done for those gathering wood for the campfire, and for those laboring in gardens of their own or others. Learning to recognize plants that contain urushiol is the best defense. The three commonest offenders are poison ivy, Atlantic poison oak (Toxicodendron pubescens), and poison sumac (T. vernix). I include pictures of all of them here, and links to websites with more information.



Poison sumac doesn't follow
the "leaves of three" dictum
Toxicodendron vernix

Southeastern North Carolinians only need worry about the first two: mercifully, poison sumac doesn’t grow here. I say “mercifully” because the “leaves of three” dictum doesn’t apply. Poison sumac looks like, well, non-poison sumac. Poison oak is indigenous to the south, ranging from New Jersey to Kansas, and south to Florida and Texas, except for Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana and Kentucky. Go figure. Poison ivy is native to all of North America east of the Rockies plus Arizona, but not in New Mexico, North Dakota, Newfoundland and Labrador.

Why is there poison ivy? Non-human animals seem urushiol-proof: many eat it with gusto, and the berries are a great favorite of many birds. Another sorrowful mystery for the books. For rash palliatives, go to December 10, 2010's post, "Stuffing Stockings." 

I’m starting to itch, so it’s time to move on to less painful but just-as-vigorous vining plants liable to turn up in your yard.


Virginia creeper creeps
up a tree in a vacant lot
Parthenocissus quinquefolia

Virginia creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia) often gets mistaken for poison ivy because seed leaves have three leaflets instead of the characteristic five of older foliage. Native to eastern and central North America, it can actually be purchased and planted on purpose as an ornamental vine, mainly due to its brilliant red fall coloration. A vigorous climber—up to 30 feet—it attaches itself to supports by means of flat discs at the end of its tendrils. The problem with creeper is that it pops up unbidden EVERYWHERE in my neighborhood. And while it doesn’t strangle the trees it obscures, its exuberant growth tends to smother them to the point of inhibiting photosynthesis. I’m just sayin’.

            Kind of like kudzu. Kudzu (Pueraria lobata) is the poster child for non-native invasive plants. (The whole native/non-native, invasive vs. biodynamic issue will be the subject of a future post.) We don’t see a lot of it very near the coast—salt may affect it adversely—but it’s certainly ubiquitous inland, where it out-competes anything else, including slow-moving creatures. Kudzu is probably the reason there are no North American sloths. It primarily spreads by shooting out above-ground stolons and sub-surface rhizomes. I include a picture of its pretty though inconspicuous flower. Allegedly, the fruits make scrumptious jellies, and fragrant soaps and lotions. Originally imported from Japan as a fast-growing, adaptable bovine fodder, when agribusiness decided to start raising cattle in concentrated feedlots and force-feeding them grain instead of the forbs they’d rather consume, there weren’t enough pasture-raised cows left to eat what kudzu had been planted. The rest—along with mad-cow disease and rising growth-hormone levels and antibiotic resistance in humans—is history.


The lovely kudzu flower



Kudzu doing its thing
Pueraria lobata



 



Another rampant vine of southeastern landscapes is the scuppernong grape (Vitis rotundifolia). The oldest cultivated grape in the U.S., the 400-year-old “Mother Vine” still grows on Roanoke Island, NC. A variety of Muscadine, scuppernong can be found in the wild all over the South. I transplanted a specimen from the vacant lot next door to our outdoor shower, hoping for future harvests. Scuppernong grapes are an acquired taste, as they have seeds and bitter skins. Scuppernong grape vines are notoriously difficult to get rid of once they establish a foothold where you don’t want them. The woody vines don’t pull out easily, and the roots of all of them, it’s rumored, extend back to the mother plant just outside of Manteo.



Transplanted scuppernong vine
takes hold on our outdoor shower



Scuppernong grape vine
making itself at home
Vitis rotundifolia







 



Bramble blackberry vine in situ
Rubus vulgaris



You can’t catalog miserable vines with edible fruits without mentioning good ol’ Rubus vulgaris, the bramble blackberry briar. Bramble blackberry is a weed of cultivation, appearing in disturbed soils. Spreading by rhizomes to form impenetrable thickets, it guards its delectable fruit by skazillions of evilly hooked thorns. I know of a large patch (the location of which I reveal to no one), and am willing to accept the blood-sacrifice required to harvest the small, intensely flavorful berries. This is not a plant I want in taking hold in my yard, however. Intruders get summarily yanked out as soon as I spot them, such as the one pictured here.



Close up  of bramble blackberry vine
at left, pulled out of the ground







Cat brier,
a.k.a roundleaf greenbrier
Smilax rotundifolia
(Note lack of thorns and
 heart-shaped leaves) 

Cat briers get the same treatment, only with less happy results. Sometimes known as greenbrier, Smilax spp. is a native of southeastern and central states, roughly similar in range to poison oak. Its most common name derives from the cat-claw-like thorns clothing the stems. You can also call it carrion flower, because, dependent on flies for pollination, its blooms stink like, er, dead things. Fortunately for us, they’re inconspicuous. Familiar species include S. bona-nox (saw greenbrier) and S. rotundifolia (roundleaf greenbrier), pictured here.  Cat brier’s apparent immortality arises from the woody tuber at its base. These tubers, notoriously difficult to dig out given their propensity to intertwine with the roots of desirable plants, can reach the size of russet potatoes. Tim and I knew a guy who carved whimsical animals and such out of them: he certainly didn’t have to worry about running out of raw material. (There's a good picture of a typical tuber at http://www.davesgarden.com/guides/pf/go/94170. Click to view all nine photos at left; click again to enlarge the shot by Podster. I can't use it without authorization, and I don't want to piss Dave off.) The more enterprising among you may be pleased to learn that Smilax tubers are the source of sarsaparilla (not “SASS-parilla,” as I’ve always heard it said), if you want to go to the trouble of excavating them. Some Smilax species have smaller thorns, or none at all. These latter occasionally turn up in the trade as an ornamental vine. I can only shake my head in disbelief.

   

Cat brier,
a.k.a saw greenbrier
Smilax bona-nox
(Note thorns and
 silvery blotches
on arrowhead-shaped leaves)



 And no, I don’t know why it’s spelled “brier” instead of “briar.”

To rid your landscape of any of these vines, I recommend pulling. And pulling. And pulling. None of them have roots that pop readily out of the ground, so what you’re trying to do is starve them to death by depriving them of the ability to photosynthesize. It takes a while, but it works. It is also the most sustainable and environmentally responsible control method out there. Roundup doesn’t work on woody plants (regardless of what Monsanto may have led you to believe), so don’t bother.

The problem with vast empty spaces has raised its ugly head again. If anyone knows how to fix it, or avoid it, please clue me in.

Well, that’s enough for today. My deepest, sincerest apologies to the Sondeys, in whose yard we were supposed to be working today. I swear, we’ll be there tomorrow.

To the rest of you, thanks for dropping by.

                                                                        Kathy

STUFFING STOCKINGS



Cheapies but goodies



Stumped for stocking stuffers for your favorite gardener? I’ve got some suggestions that won’t go amiss for dedicated dirt-monkeys

 Most of us who play in the dirt have one favorite pair of tools: our hands. Two obvious gift choices here—gloves and hand cream. Good gardening gloves need to breathe, be flexible and allow fine finger movements. They do not need to last forever or break the bank. Available at any home-improvement store, six pairs of three-to-five dollar gloves trump one expensive pair of a name-brand every time.



Keeping your hands soft



            When it comes to hand cream, the one I like best is No-Crack Lavender Hand Cream in the 16-ounce jar. What’s so special about it? It’s thick and penetrating without leaving your hands feel like they’ve been submerged in a vat of Crisco. It’s pleasantly but not strongly scented. Best of all, it’s actually made in the U.S., by the Dumont Company of La Crosse, Wisconsin, and is available from the Duluth Trading Company’s website, www.duluthtradingcompany.com/women. Or, if you can't find it there, try http://www.nocrackcream.com/, a site run by a lady in West By-God Virginia who got tired of having to search all over the place for sources of this excellent stuff.

            If you’re as old as I am, you were raised that it’s tacky to resort to giving cash, or its modern incarnation, the gift card. It took years, but I managed to overcome my up-bringing: a gift card from any of the following companies would put a smile on my face come Christmas morning.

 


A cornucopia of catalogs

Duluth Trading Company, mentioned above, carries some sturdy, practical clothing—it’s the only place left in the world that stocks women’s overalls. Gardens Alive! (www.gardensalive.com) supplies a wide array of mail-order organic fertilizers, pest control and vermiculture supplies, while Gardeners Supply (www.gardenerssupply.com) is a good general source of gardenalia. Lee Valley Tools and The Kinsman Company (www.leevalley.com and www.kinsman.com) carry quality tools as well as garden accessories and ornaments.

 


Felco # 2 and # 4
with scabbard,
slightly used

Speaking of tools, a top-notch pair of pruners is always welcome. Tim and I both use Felcos: he prefers the heavier-duty #4, while I stick with my lighter #2s. Corona makes good-quality pruners as well. (A quick aside: When in the market for pruners, make sure you look for scissors-bladed models rather than the anvil type. Why? Scissors make clean cuts; anvils smash.) Both companies produce excellent hand-saws as well, for those jobs too big for pruners to handle. You can find both of both—Felco pruners and saws, and Corona pruners and saws—at both big box home improvement and finer garden centers. Yes, they’re both relatively expensive. Yes, they’re both worth it.



Kathy models a volleyball kneepad,
also available in white

 Another gardening pearl-above-price is comfortable, durable kneepads. Forget anything that fastens with buckles or Velcro: in addition to being hard to put on, they’re going to get painful fast. What does Kathy recommend? Nike’s Bubble volleyball kneepads, that’s what. They’re like soccer shin-guards for the knees—easy to pull on, easy to tolerate for those long days rolling out sod, easy to toss in the washer and dryer. And they last, for about a year of heavy use, indefinitely with lighter wear. We used to find them at our local mall, in Champs Sporting Goods, until the store closed. Now we go online to www.nike.com. If your Champs is still open, you’ll save the shipping.





Balm for plant-induced itches

 Another specialty product, indispensible for those of us allergic to poison ivy and its evil cousins, is the Tecnu family of topical creams. Tecnu was developed during the 1960s expressly for the lucky fellows assigned to witness atom-bomb blasts, to “wash off” all that nasty radiation fall-out. It didn’t work so great at that application, but it does take urushiol, the oil that makes us susceptible ones so miserable, off the skin. Tecnu is not a cure-all, but I can testify that it helps, especially if applied before and/or immediately after contact. The Tecnu Extreme wash helps ease the itching, and can be safely repeated as often as necessary. I keep a supply in our truck at all times. If you or a loved one suffers from poison ivy sensitivity, Tecnu products are gifts that keep on giving. Find it at CVS, or order online from www.gemplers.com.

On a less itchy topic, one thing all gardeners love is plants. Give yours the opportunity to choose something exotic with a gift card from a local nursery or one of the national catalogs. A list of some of my favorites has a distinct southeastern bias, but you get the idea.

When I lived in upstate New York, you couldn’t beat White Flower Farms for cool ornamental perennials and shrubs not readily available locally (www.whiteflowerfarms.com).  These days, I rely on Plant Delights Nursery and Wayside Gardens for unusual and experimental specimens (www.plantdelights.com and www.waysidegardens.com, respectively). When it comes to vegetables, I’ve had good luck with starts from Cook’s Garden (www.cooksgarden.com). For bulbs, my number one choice is Brent and Becky’s (www.brentandbeckysbulbs.com: see my November 16^th post for more details). Seed catalogs featuring heirloom varieties are legion: Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds, Select Seeds, Territorial Seeds, Seed Savers Exchange, Johnny’s Seeds, Renee’s Seeds, The Park Seed Company, and the venerable Burpee’s. All have eponymous websites and catalogs to make you drool. Many offer plant starts as well: I have had good luck with Select Seeds, who offers a selection of annual vines and flowers seedlings.

 

A gift that really counts



Does the gardener in your life already have every tool and tschotke he wants? Well, then, how about giving part of or even an entire starter garden to someone who could really use it? Heifer International (www.heifer.org) turns your donation into potentially life-changing livestock or tree seedlings or, my personal favorite, a gardener’s basket, including “… everything a family will need to start a sustainable farm—tree seedlings, rabbits to generate organic manure, chickens to eat pests and a hive of bees to pollinate crops and increase yields,” to quote the catalog, along with on-site technical support to families in war-torn and developing nations, as well as poverty pockets—which are growing larger daily as the global economy continues to stagger—right here at home. Besides, as I understand it, that’s the kind of giving Christmas and all the other winter-solstice holidays are really about.

A hint for blog neophytes from my resident computer nerd: just click on any of the websites in the post and you'll be transported right to the site. No dithering required. To return here, click on the "back" arrow. He swears it works.

            So merry Christmas to you and yours from me and mine. Tim says if anyone’s racking his brain for gift ideas for him, a Mercedes (any model) or a Rockwell Commander would be nice. Ha. What he really loves is chocolate, the real thing, Belgian or Swiss, crafted with high cocoa content and actual sugar instead of high fructose corn syrup (which, by the way, does not taste like sugar, no matter how many analyses agribusiness waves under our noses).

 

            Me? I’d like a pallet of fifty 25-pound bags of Black Kow, delivered.

           Thanks for dropping by. And promise me you’ll never use the oxymoronic phrase “free gift” again for the rest of your life.

                                                                            Kathy