WRAPPING UP WATER

            One of my dad’s favorite sayings was, “She’s a day late and a dollar short.” Having been a dollar short all my life, I can now add “a day late” to my many shortcomings. To all of you who live and breathe GFTGU, my sincerest apologies. Since I suspect that number is pretty close to zero, I’m already kicking myself for mentioning the tardiness of this post at all.



Seen any of these guys lately?



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            Okay, Fourth of July weekend was probably not the very best time to run a poll—only six people voted. And one of them was Tim. In order to beef up the numbers (I hope), I extended the response period by seven days. Now that all the street fairs, fireworks displays, family reunions and heat-related trips to the emergency room are over, maybe you’ll take a second to share your lightning bug sightings.

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Now, as promised, some things to think about before adding a water feature to your garden.



A birdbath with a solar bubbler
does double duty, providing
water for wildlife and sound



      1.      What is it you want water in your garden to do? Is your aim to supply drink for the critters, or do you have something more aesthetic in mind? Both the sight and sound of water delight and calm overheated senses, but how to achieve them? A birdbath with a circulator? A container water garden for the deck? A fountain? A pond? A waterfall? A small tinkle that draws you down a shaded path, or a large feature visible from inside the house and audible from the porch, lanai or deck? Give serious consideration to how big an investment in money and time you’re willing to expend on installation and maintenance.

This is not a good source of power
for your water feature's pump



2.      As to installation, think location, location, location. It may sound stupidly obvious, but you will need a convenient water source. Doesn’t matter what size feature you have in mind, evaporation happens. Nobody relishes dragging a hose or—worse!—hauling buckets and watering cans a couple hundred feet. All the damn time.

3.      If your chosen feature requires a pump, you will also need a convenient source of electricity. Those orange extension cords running from porch outlet out to the garden are unattractive, unreliable (think lawn mowers and trimmers), and unsafe. Have a licensed electrician install a ground-fault interrupter outlet near the site. Don’t scrimp on this step, kids: your homeowners policy may not cover any fire loss on your property if the fountain-pump line is a do-it-yourself job.

Koi add color and movement
to a pond, but also more work

    4.      Regarding maintenance: nobody enjoys a scummy water feature. Birdbaths require a weekly clear-out and refill; fountains the same. Ponds without fish need regular water-level monitoring and occasional algae treatments. Ponds with fish top the maintenance chart because consistently good water quality is essential to piscine survival. Elaborate filtration devices, like those for swimming pools (and just as attractive) help a lot: but they need maintenance, too. If you landscape around your feature—and who doesn’t?—the plantings will stake a claim on your time as well. Tim and I have talked ourselves out of any number jobs simply by describing the time-sink a water-feature can be.

Ponds mean wildlife:
a mallard laid her eggs in this pot
in the float we put on a client's pond
(and an otter ate them)

    5.      If you go the pond route, remember ponds are, by definition, ecosystems. Water attracts wildlife. Frogs, toads, turtles, lizards, salamanders and snakes are likely to visit and/or take up residence. With enough depth and surface area, ducks, otters and dreadful, dirty, pugnacious Canada geese may move in too. Still water, a necessity for water lilies, encourages mosquito breeding. If you plan on stocking your pond with fish, plan to protect them from predators like raccoons, herons, cats and hawks. At the same time, keep in mind that netting can ensnare unwanted diners or squatters, opening up a whole other can of worms.



 

This example is a little over the top,
but demonstrates the beauty
of low-voltage lighting

    

      6.      Consider safety. A little person can drown very quickly in very little water. Even the most meticulously cared-for pond will have a slimy bottom, which may result in slip-dunk-type accidents. Plan for nighttime illumination with low-voltage fixtures (solar stick-in-the-ground ones are too unreliable for this important purpose) to alert the oblivious evening visitor to the hazard.

    

     7.      If you’re going for a waterfall, please consider aesthetics. I’m rerunning the picture of the embarrassing monument to Tim’s and my stupidity as a reminder that nature never runs water uphill for the express purpose of having it flow back down. Scale your waterfall to the lay of your land, backing it into a natural rise or natural-looking constructed one. No matter how much you want it, you can’t convincingly pull off Yosemite Falls on the coastal plain. Or, indeed, any plain. Aim for a streambed effect, with gentle changes in grade marked by boulders for water to tumble over.

A dumb-looking waterfall

A non-dumb-looking waterfall

   

  

  

Features with small reservoirs
are prone to pump burn-out 

 8.      Pumps are always problematic (meaning, in this case, “probably a problem”). Make sure yours is rated for the gallonage of your feature. Too big a pump, it’ll empty the basin in short order. Too small a pump, it’ll burn itself out trying to move the water. Submersed pumps must stay submerged in order to work. We warned the owner of the cute little wall fountain shown here that she couldn’t leave it running unattended: the reservoir held only about a cup of water, and if the water level fell enough to expose the pump, it would burn itself out. Only took her a week to blow through two pumps and become disenchanted with the whole idea.

      9.      In water features as in life, be prepared. Anything that can go wrong, will. Pond liners and plastic reservoir basins spring leaks. Lightning strikes fry pumps and, occasionally, fish. Algal blooms develop overnight. Oxygen levels in the water can vary wildly. Reptiles get stuck in the protective netting and you’re left to puzzle how to get them out without harm to either party. Even birdbaths have their woes. Raccoons pull the dripline out of ours, so it goes bone-dry four times a week. When I refill it, the squirrels hold a splashing party in it. Grackles steal the pennies I put in the basin to deter algae formation. The list goes on and on.    

My best advice? Start small. Try a birdbath, a few lilies in a water-proof container on your deck, or a small fountain, just to get your feet wet (so to speak) before plunging into a larger commitment. Personally, I haven’t progressed beyond the birdbath stage. A bigger water feature means more work, which is something I’m not anxious to sign up for. If I want the sound of water in my garden, I pop outside and take a shower.

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July is Smart Irrigation Month, so get out and make friends with your local contractor, and/or your system’s controller. Think about what you’re watering, and why.

Speaking of efficient users of water… The “Winter Weeds” post of January 4^th has been a perennial favorite in the stats, so we’ll give the summer ones a go next time.

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An astronomical fact of interest: on July 4^th, Earth reached its aphelion with the sun, putting a distance of about 94.5 million miles between the orbs, measured center to center. (Didn’t cool us down any that I noticed.) Not to worry—Sky-Guy says we started inching back immediately, and will cozy up to perihelion on January 4, 2012. (Probably won’t warm us up any either.)    

Thanks for dropping by.

                                                                                      Kathy

JUNE WRAP-UP

            Got a grab-bag of miscellany for you today, ranging through phenology observations, companion planting, small miracles, plant-buying opportunities, eating local, the latest slimy doings at Monsanto, astronomical happenings, and the first-ever GFTGU poll—Got Lightning Bugs? Let’s get started!

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            Tim’s been busy exploring Google Gadgets again. He interrupted me during a tense level-4 Sudoku session the other day to announce he’d learned how to run polls on the blog. He’s so cute when he enthuses about cyber-gimmicks. I listened politely, then filed the information in my brain’s recycle bin, sure I’d never need it.

            Spoke too soon. The very next morning, my cousin Mike emailed me that the lightning bugs had returned to Boonsboro, Maryland, reinforcing our family’s genetically based tendency to be entertained by trifles. The news got me thinking, though: here on Oak Island, I can count the lightning bugs flirting their bioluminescent rears in my back yard on the fingers of one hand. In fact, I don’t need any hands: don’t recall ever seeing a single one.

Where art thou, lightning bug?



            Communicated same to Mike, reinforcing our family’s genetically based tendency to depress ourselves, bemoaning lost summer nights of yesteryear  spent careening barefoot around back yard and park chasing six-legged sparks, clutching peanut-butter jars with holes punched in the lids for air and three blades of grass for our captives to perch on and eat. (Eat?)

            Further research into the subject (reinforcing the family’s genetically based tendency to become distracted at the drop of a hat) revealed that lightning bugs, a.k.a. fireflies, are indeed disappearing. Loss of meadow habitats to development and suburbia’s fixation on decking the dark with strings of fairy lights and torches and up-lighting make it difficult for the tiny brilliants to find each other to mate.

So tell me: does your neighborhood still receive lightning bug visitations? Tim gleefully set up the idiot-proof mechanism at top right (I know it’s idiot-proof because I could do it) for you to weigh in on this vexing issue. It’s not as trivial a thing as I may have made it sound, so c’mon and give us a click. You’d do it for “American Idol.”

This totally unscientific "Got Lightning Bugs?" poll will be open through July 5. The gadget automatically updates every time somebody votes, so we can all watch the results roll in together. Is that cool or what?

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Will my sunflower seedlings bloom
before July 16?
Will pollinators care?

            In case you missed it, last week—June 20–26—was federally designated National Pollinator Week. (Isn’t it grand that Congress occasionally demonstrates its ability to suck it up and make a decision on an issue?) You can check out what you missed at Pollinator Partnership’s website, download colorful pollinator posters and learn about the North American Pollinator Protection Campaign.

            Sponsored by the Great Sunflower Project, the Great Bee Count will be held on July 16^th. I’m hoping my ‘Lemon Queen’ sunflowers will be blooming by then. As you can see, it’s going to be touch-and-go right up to the deadline, thanks to the sluggishness my fingers impart to seeds. Still, we’re doing better than last year, when all my starts died.

My prize Nature's Notebook
passionflower

            In other phenological news, I’m making and recording passionflower observations every three days for Nature’s Notebook, the citizen-scientist part of the USA National Phenology Network. Here’s a shot of my prize specimen.

            If you haven’t already signed on, it’s not too late to get involved this year. I didn’t start until August of 2010, and—because our first frost didn’t occur until December 3—still managed to make a contribution.

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            Meanwhile, out in the vegetable garden, the raccoons are having a field day with the tomatoes. Don’t know if it’s because the drought's made them thirsty, or if they think we grow the maters for them, or if it’s pique, but Tim and I are fighting back. We barricaded the beds with bird-netting stretched between fence posts and slid concrete reinforcing wire leftovers between the green fruit-laden plants and the yaupon hedge. So far, so good.

            On the pickleworm front, I’m trying to flummox the little troublemaking moths with companion planting. The cukes in baskets hanging on my front porch share their space with nasturtiums and French marigolds. The melons out back on the slanted support grow over and around creosote-evoking Lemmon marigolds (Tagetes lemmonii). And the cucumber seeds I planted Sunday afternoon will sprout through trailing branches of scented geraniums (Pelargonium ‘Sweet Miriam’). If proximity to pungent foliage puts pests off, I will be very pleased with myself. If not, it’s back to the drawing board.

Melon vines clamber over and through
the aromatic foliage of Lemmon's marigolds

Will 'Sweet Miriam'
protect the melons?

           

            

           

The ultra-cool-looking
lion's-tail

  
           Finally, just because I like the plants, I sowed seeds for tall-growing castor bean (Ricinus communis), red Malabar spinach (Basella ruba) and lion’s-tail (Leonotis leonurus) in among the pole beans. The Malabar spinach is edible (it’s not a true spinach but a tropical Asian vine); the dried petals of lion’s-tail can be smoked or brewed as tea for a mild high (it’s also known as wild dagga, which sounds vaguely Rastafarian to me); and the castor bean, poisonous in all its parts, is the source of ricin, a potent toxin. Hope it doesn’t poison my beans.

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Clematis pitcheri's first bloom
at NE 13th Street

            Little miracles happen all around us all the time. One occurred in my back yard last week. After starting out life with a cudweed nanny, and sulking flowerless for six years, my Clematis pitcheri bloomed. And only a couple of weeks after I whined about it not blooming right here.

            Speaking of miracles, check this out: my Christmas poinsettia is flourishing out on the back porch. It’s still got a few bracts left, and the new leaves are a rich, deep green. Frankly, I’m surprised, and humbled, by this little plant’s ferocious will to live. And just a tiny bit scared.

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            The better-late-than-never-blooming Clematis pitcheri originally came from Plant Delights Nursery, near Raleigh, NC, which is holding its sultry summer Open House the weekends of July 8-9-10 and 15-16-17. Hours are 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. on Friday and Saturday, and 1 to 5 p.m. on Sunday. The brochure notes that about 230 different crinums are at peak bloom in the on-site Juniper Level Botanic Garden, along with an impressive Echinacea display. If you’re impervious to heat-related ailments, pay ’em a visit.

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           Farmers markets are in full swing everywhere by now, so get out there and partake of local bounties. If you live in North Carolina, consider signing up for the 10%NC program. You pledge to spend the equivalent of 10% of your weekly grocery budget on locally produced foods—“local” includes fruits and vegetables you grow and harvest yourself—and agree to respond to a two-question weekly email to track your progress. The website lists sources of local foods by zip-code, and catalogs in-season produce.

           Anything you buy from small farmers in your area is bound to be better for you than the dicey stuff churned out by agri-business. For two hair-raising articles warning of the slippery slope of Monsanto’s patented Roundup Ready frankencrops, click on the following links: “Roundup: Birth Defects Caused by Top-Selling Weedkiller, Scientists Say”; and “Bill Gates, Monsanto and Blackwater: A Marriage Made in Hell.” Even if the stories (and/or the science) border on sensationalist, there’s the old truism about smoke and fire. Certainly, big-business profits trumping health and safety—and everything else—is nothing new.


The Chinese TaiJi hexagram elegantly
depicts the relationships between
solstices and equinoxes

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            Moving right along from the down-and-dirty to the celestial… The Naval Observatory’s Sky-Guy reports that the week-long period of longest days of the year ends today (June 28^th) in the D.C. area. What do you mean, “week-long period of longest days”? you ask. Everyone knows the solstice marks the longest day. Well, everyone’s wrong. The summer solstice occurs when the sun is directly above the Tropic of Cancer at 23⅓ degrees north latitude. It usually coincides with one of the longest days. But the number of minutes between sunrise and sunset stays the same for a week or so. Southeastern North Carolina’s first longest day was June 18^th; daylight period began shrinking on the 26th.

            We do have two new moons this July, a kind of consolation prize, I guess.

           

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Well, that’s it. June’s done, 2011’s half over. Thanks for dropping by. See you in July.

                                                                                Kathy