The Urban Pantheist

Now is the time of the year when the tomatoes ripen faster than we can eat them.

Settin' a spell after doing some yard work and playing with dogs and such. For the beer fans, I'm drinking a Sierra Nevada Summerfest.

( Read more... )

This was the dirt-facing surface of a pumpkin that grew from one of our triffid-like garden dominating pumpkin vines. I could see that it was already compromised by some other pumpkin grazer on the top side, and was starting to rot. I was quite surprised to see termites (members of our one New England species, the eastern subterranean termite) burrowing in. Seems kind of lazy for an animal specially adapted to eat wood cellulose to take on pumpkin flesh, but who am I to criticize a creature for taking the easy route?

( Read more... )

This interesting shrub was in the perennial beds when we moved in. It was kind of not sitting right, flopping around too easily. I tried tying it to get the shoots to point upright, and twisted out a big hunk of it by mistake. Over the course of the year it bounced back despite my efforts, and has found a posture it likes, and is spraying out with hundreds of purplish red flowers.

I was confident that it was Scotch broom Cystisus sp. until I started researching it. Now it seems likely that it's some hybrid mutant with a name like "lilac time." I love you plant cultivators, but you are perverted weirdos, worse than dog breeders maybe.

April 24


April 28

This is my first attempt at cultivating mushrooms, in this case "Pearl" oysters: Pleurotus ostreatus, purchased from Fungi Perfecti. The kit is a big lump of sawdust inoculated with fungal mycelium. Once it arrives, the cultivator just has to water it and keep it covered with the humidity bag (a plastic bag with some holes in it. I also mixed in a few big handfuls of shredded junk mail and newspaper. I'm working on a more elaborate, perhaps artistic project involving growing mushrooms on junk mail, and this is my first test of the system.

It lived in my basement from the time it arrived on Valentines Day (I waited a couple weeks to mix it and put it in its bucket, so it wasn't exposed to New England air until almost March) until mid-march sometime, when it stopped getting so damn cold every night. This species is not harmed by the cold or by freezing, I just didn't want to work outside more than I needed. I brought the 5 gallon bucket outside and hung it up, and tried to remember to water it 3 times a day, but often only managed to get to it daily. On March 15, the first visible primordia--the gathering together of tissue that will become fruiting bodies--appeared.

Over the following weeks there appeared three mushrooms, two out of the holes on the shady side of the bucket (it hangs near a high retaining wall), and one from the bottom hole. Another appeared on top of the exposed junk mail/saw dust matrix a few days later. The one pictured above was the biggest. I wanted to wait as long as possible, so that it would be an impressive item to display at my upcoming mushroom class (May 22). Then I worried it would get eaten by fungus gnats, so I planned instead to cut it and make beef stroganoff or something with it as an ingredient. Unfortunately, I didn't act quickly enough, and all the mushrooms have a crispy burnt looking edge to them now.

Growing these mushrooms was really fun, and I hope this group keeps fruiting for a while. If the activity dies down I can try to mix in more junk mail, and if it doesn't work the whole mess will go on the compost heap (or the brush pile...?)and still contribute to the yard.

If you want to know about this species in the wild, it was 365 urban species #289. Oyster mushrooms of various species have appeared often in this blog, as the group has many attributes that suit it to flourishing in a northern city. Also you could read an entry about the species by a real mycologist, Tom Volk.

Alex rakes the back corner while I pull garlic mustard. The amount of garlic mustard in this yard is rivaled only by the amount of Japanese knotweet. At least when you pull the garlic mustard it all comes out. The knotweed is like a hydra. But man, there's a lot of garlic mustard. More than the most enthusiastic wild food eater could keep down.

I was indecisive about including snowdrop (Galanthus sp.) until almost too late. I kind of like the honest depiction of the snowdrop blossom melting away. As could be predicted, it was the first garden flower to sprout from its bulb in one of our perennial beds. It's kind of exciting to find out what was planted in the yard, what is hiding in the soil waiting to emerge. This plant was also 365 urban species #84.

(I am including the "gardening" tag, since this is the product of somebody's gardening, just not mine.)

Correct me if I'm wrong, I'm rubbish with cultivated plants, but I think this is Glory-of-the-snow (Chionodoxa sp.), a Mediterranean native that grows from a bulb. It popped up between the late winter blooming snow drops and the early spring blooming daffodils, in numerous locations around the yard. You garden-keeping folks probably know more about it than I do, so let's hear it (and let me know what it is in case I'm wrong).

Alexis stands before the stalks of Japanese knotweed (#10, Fallopia japonica). This area of knotweed growth appears to have spread from some deliberately planted specimens. The plant has become such a poster species for troublesome invasives, that it's hard to remember sometimes that it was intentionally introduced. Its extensive system of underground stems helps to limit soil erosion, and it grows amazingly fast. The fresh young sprouts are edible to humans, and the grown plants are harvested and stored as winter forage for zoo animals. Unfortunately, it forms monocultural stands that compete with native plants, and reduce the number and variety of animals where these stands occur. We're digging it out, but we know it will be a long-term ongoing project.


Last year's stalks attached to a root ball, with this year's buds emerging. I hacked the stalks down with my machete, which was fun, but it could have been accomplished as efficiently with a whiffleball bat. Japanese knotweed was 365 urban species #129 and had multiple appearances in the muddy river project and the daily urban nature project.

( two more! )