Georgia Piedmont

Strawberry Bush, Euonymus americanus

This plant is known as “hearts-a-burstin'” down south.  Here’s a quote from “Good Houses,” by Athens singer-songwriter Madeline:

Good endless surprises.
Good reasons for waking.
Good friends are good family
with hearts over flowing
from kindness from strangers.
The will to survive. Continue reading →

American Beech, Fagus grandifolia

Two Yellow Leaves

by Erinn Batykefer

October has slicked the mirror-flat rivers with yellow

leaves.  We pull them from the current

and mark time: the color of my infant skin under a bili light;

a dozen July apples carried to the kitchen

in your shirt, their yellow sugar slick on a serrated knife.

I see the high sun snapping against sheets on the line,

my hipbones pressing out and opening late one summer,

the yellow outline of bone under skin.

I see here: the 16th Street Bridge flinging skeins of yellow iron

over the flood-ochered Allegheny, this morning’s diner-

on an edge of light as blinding autumn flutters

through the poplars’ paper-coin leaves.  My leaf-shaped heart

welling up through the river, yellow.

Pink Wood Sorrel, Oxalis crassipes

Until now, I never associated shamrocks with flowers.

While enjoying a bowl of spicy vegan chili, I unexpectedly caught some live Irish music this afternoon at The Globe.  Around four o’clock, a group of grey haired men lugging instruments began filing in and shuffling furniture, while forming a circle of chairs around a central microphone attached to a small black monitor.  Initially there were seven: two guitars, one accordion, two violins, a mandolin, and a slight woman with a small harp. Luckily, I had my recorder with me, so I sampled their set.  I chose not to edit background noise/conversation, as it was part of the experience.  Listen to the first two songs below.

In the middle of the third song, a woman in a purple hoodie walked in carrying a soft, violet dulcimer case.  A man with a mustache and a violin followed.  Closest to the musicians sat a group of five children under three feet tall.  One fellow in Superman pajamas struggled to get situated in a rocking chair, and as the musicians played, he rocked back and forth to the rhythm. To listen to a couple songs including the dulcimer, click below.

 

Nodding Thistle, Carduus nutans

Author Matt Hern is the founder of The Purple Thistle Centre in Vancouver, Canada. According to his website, “We run a 2500 sq/ft resource centre that has a ton of supplies, tools, materials, classes and workshops,  and its all free.  There’s a library, bike fixing shop, computer lab, silkscreening room, animation facility and lots else.  And maybe best of all, the whole thing is run by a youth collective that controls all the day-to-day operations and really runs the place.”

Guerilla gardening is also offered at The Purple Thistle Centre.

Arugula, Eruca sativa

This year’s end of the year party was held in the art teacher’s garden.  During a tour I noticed that her arugula was flowering like mine.  She said it’s called “bolting” when greens begin forming flowerets.  After that, they produce significantly fewer leaves.  I’ll eat the flowers before seeding begins.

This afternoon, my neighbor caught me carrying a couple plants I’d sprouted from a pumpkin we carved in class last October.  The middle school math teacher-turned chef-turned college professor-turned retired gardener and world traveler, offered greens from his garden, then gave me a tour and advice for growing greens, fruit trees, tomatoes, herbs, and potatoes.

While watering the garden, a young praying mantis headed for higher ground along the edge of the raised bed against the side of the house.  A large spider took notice and peered down at a rival killer.

I turned for a moment to water the tomatoes, and when I looked back the mantis and spider were gone.

Click the link below for a vegan arugula recipe by Isa Chandra Moskowitz:

Chickpea Picatta

 

 

Egyptian Walking Onion, Allium cepa

About a year ago, I snatched curious bulblets  from what looked like a large alien onion plant during a walk through a nearby garden.  One forgotten, dry little bulb sat on the kitchen windowsill collecting dust for a year.  Until last week.  I rolled a paper pot, tucked her in, then soaked.  Six days later, twin jade sprouts poked through the soil.

Itching to wander, she’s more than doubled in height in two days.

A week later, she’s ready to move out of the kitchen window.

Today Alex planted the onion in our vegetable bed at school.  Turger pressure’s low, so it’s pretty droopy, but an optimistic touch is just what it needs.

Stretching, the tallest of four plants towers above an old tofu bucket.  The bulge rises like a burp before February.

In the knot’s place, three bulblets (one with thinned, crimson skin) remain, and
a family of spiders finds pungent refuge beneath.

To jump ahead a year into the future of this plant’s life, click here.