Fall Blooms

The meadow is more glorious than I might expect on a fall day. The ornamental blooms in my own garden beds around the house are fading, but the succession of wildflower blossoms in the meadow keeps going. Soft clouds of some tiny white aster are busy with sweat bees, mason bees, and skippers. Small pollinators require small flowers. Tall pink cosmos are food for bumblebees and butterflies. The golden rod are spears of sunshine.

The one Mexican sunflower by the gate is my most dramatic survivor. It's like a small tree covered in orange blossoms attracting large bumblebees, butterflies, hummingbirds, and gold finches. The flowers also make nice doggy necklaces. 

In the evening, the meadow is in shadow--all except the bamboo grove. By day a dark secretive corner, in the evening the grove is back-lit by golden light. Beyond the stalks, a swarm of midges rise and fall. The hackberry trees are weeping this time of year, covering the ground with sticky black sap. The light sparkles on droplets falling like rain underneath the branches. Come sit in one of the old rocking chairs under the crepe myrtle arbor and watch the world be!

Spiders

A family tragedy took my mind away from the butterfly meadow. For many days I did not visit at all. When I came back one early morning, coffee cup in hand, the meadow was doing just fine. Everything sparkled with dew in the morning light, and the tall grass was full of spiders.

This summer I read Charlotte's Web to my children. That book does not pull any punches. By the end, when Charlotte the spider dies all alone in the deserted fairgrounds, we were all crying.

These are the last lines of the book:

“Wilbur never forgot Charlotte. Although he loved her children and grandchildren dearly, none of the new spiders ever quite took her place in his heart. She was in a class by herself. It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both.”

Here is a black and gold writing spider that I photographed in the meadow:

Birdwatching

On sunny mornings before nine o'clock, the meadow is glorious for birdwatching. I like to take my coffee and lean against the gate on Fifth Avenue and look out over the meadow.

This morning one of the American holly trees, the one with the thinning leaves, was full of birds--blue jays, mocking birds, robins, cardinals, perched on the boughs like Christmas tree ornaments. These common urban birds are especially entertaining now, because they all have families: the parents still feeding their almost-grown fledglings, the young birds flapping around acting the fool. One morning we watched a mocking bird, a robin, and a hairy woodpecker, all sitting in the mulberry tree at the same time stuffing food into their babies' open mouths.

We've also spotted rarer birds in the meadow. I grabbed some internet images of the different species of birds I've personally seen in the meadow. I didn't take any of the birds photos below. I wish!

We've seen a small flock of adult towhees-similar to robins, thrillingly not robins.

One of the most exciting sights was a mated pair of flickers. These large brown woodpeckers have a reputation for shyness so I felt lucky to see them. 

I didn't quite know what they were at first, then one of them soared over my head and I saw the bright yellow underwings against the blue sky.

A family of Cooper's hawks lives on Polk Street--a mated pair and one fledgling. We often see them soaring over the meadow emitting a strange turkey-gobble cry, and usually being chased by a pack of mockingbirds. So undignified.

A family of hairy woodpeckers live in the meadow, and are often seen perched on the limbs of a dying dogwood. It's good to leave some dead limbs (snags) for the use of birds and insects.

Here are a few more:

Grackle, such a crisp silhouette in flight.

Brown Thrasher, always on the ground kicking up the straw.

Cowbird, that leaves its eggs in the nests of other birds.

There are also mystery birds I haven't identified yet. An all-gray one that may be a catbird, and some plain brown ones that may be females of some unidentifiable species. It must be the diversity of trees and habitat that attract so many different kinds of birds, and the relative peace that encourages some to stay. I imagine from a birds-eye view, the meadow looks like an oasis.

I have recently planted some sunflowers (Autumn beauty and Mexican) for goldfinches, and bog sage (donated by Stanley's Greenhouse!) to attract hummingbirds. Maybe soon, I can add them to the list of birds spotted in the meadow.

Field Trip!

Generous Parkridger Amber Crouse, who likes to walk her dogs in the Parkridge Butterfly Meadow with her husband Steve, just gave us a valuable gift.

A big pile of horse manure!

On Monday, she drove me and the kids out to Crosstie Stables in Mascot for as much horse manure as the two of us could load into the bed of her pick-up truck.

It's free, and you are allowed to take as much as you want.

As one of the owners of the stables told Amber, "They make it everyday."

While Amber and I worked, the little girls had a nice time running around the farm counting the horses. Crossties Stables has 27 horses, according to the father of one of the owners. That's a lot of manure.

I didn't realize what city girls I had raised until one of them asked what horse poop looked like. It looks like this:

We dumped it near the sidewalk on Polk Street where Nickie Bold, Parkridger who co-owns Meadowsweet Massage and Wellness on Gay Street, plans to start an herbal demonstration garden.

I will spread most of the manure on the clay inside the fence to add nitrogen and other nutrients to the very poor soil. Maybe next year we can get some really pretty flowers growing in the heart of the meadow.

Hooray for horse poop!

Weeds

Many of the plants we are encouraging to grow in the Parkridge Butterfly Meadow are what one might consider weeds. In fact, the plant we are cultivating most passionately is called "Butterfly Weed," a native perennial with orange blossoms especially rich in nectar. I noticed the pots at Stanley's Greenhouse, where we bought the specimens planted in the meadow, were labeled "Butterfly Flower," possibly to avoid that uncomfortable word, "weed."

I like weeds, though.The subtle blossoms and rangy habits of an unweeded bed are interesting and beautiful to me. The more I learn about how one weed or another fits into their ecological niche, providing food or habitat for specific insects and animals, the more valuable they seem. Then I start to think it's the Queen Anne's Lace growing unbidden in a bed in front of a public building that should stay, and the little green meatballs of boxwood, a food desert, should be ripped out and tossed on the burn pile.

With that said, there are some "weeds" we are bent on eradicating from the meadow.

Bermuda Grass, which I have mentioned before. Here it is, frying on the pavement.

One of my earliest memories is of walking across a cornfield in North Alabama, trying to figure out which plant was corn and which was Johnson grass. (My mother had said I could stomp on the Johnson grass, but not the corn.) Johnson grass, with its glossy leaves and resemblance to corn, presents a wholesome picture. But do not be fooled. It is highly invasive and contains cyanide which can kill an animal that eats too much of it. 

One way to identify Johnson grass is from the purple streaks on its leaves.

Poison Ivy. A good friend just told me that at her campsite at Bonnaroo this year, she saw a mated pair of rare red-headed woodpeckers living in a tree and eating poison ivy berries. I have never in my life seen a red-headed woodpecker and would be ecstatic to have one living in our neighborhood. Poison ivy provides food for many rare and wonderful birds and insects. Years ago this same friend said I should think about poison ivy differently, as a protector of the woods, growing along the edge and keeping out intruders.

Fair enough. But the meadow is intended for animals and people. And, as I type this my fingers are covered with itchy red blisters, a reaction to brushing up against poison ivy. Poison ivy has sent me to the hospital for steroid shots, prevented me from playing in the woods as a kid, and discouraged me from pursuing a Botany major. I really, really don't like it.

My grudge against poison ivy is so fierce, that I broke a personal rule of mine and sprayed it with herbicide, especially near the paths. If it's any consolation to the poison ivy supporters, I think it will be hard to get rid of.

Meadow in Bloom

With all the rain and sun of the past week the flowers in the Butterfly Meadow have really popped into bloom!

The Cosmos have done the best of the flowers from the mix we sowed on the bare clay.  Cosmos are a good source of nectar for adult butterflies. We have seen many Cabbage White butterflies flitting around the pink blossoms.

This small flower is called Self Heal. We did not plant it, but found it growing in the meadow. It's a member of the mint family, edible, and considered a useful herb in treating a variety of human ailments. The USDA cautions that it can be "weedy or invasive" but also notes it's "a valuable addition to a wildflower meadow or butterfly garden." (usda.gov) This touches on an issue we've talked to death among ourselves: What to kill? What to keep? In the end, we are keeping some non-native or even invasive species that are also food sources for beneficial insects.

A pink rose we pruned and are keeping, just for the hell of it.

Queen Anne's Lace, another species from Eurasia, naturalized in North America hundreds of years ago. One of my favorite flowers, and a food source for bees and butterflies, especially the Black Swallowtail.

 Bush Morning Glory, supposed to attract hummingbirds and butterflies.

We bought several species of clover from Knox Seed to sow in the meadow. Clover is a nectar source for bees and the leaves are food for some butterfly larva. Clover is a nitrogen fixer and helps build topsoil. This is especially beneficial in eliminating the bare clay areas in the meadow.

 Flea bane, a native perennial.

Yellow dock seeds, nutritious for birds and humans.

I asked Brian Campbell, horticulturist at the Knoxville Botanical Gardens and instigator of the Butterfly Conservation Meadow, to list his top three must-have flowers. He listed butterfly weed, echinacea (or purple cone flower), and asters in general, especially late-blooming species so that insects and birds can have that food source for as long as possible.

We are propagating echinacea now, and are on the lookout for butterfly weed and members of the asteraceae family.

Ordinary Magic of Birds

A few weeks ago my four-year-old climbed the star magnolia tree in the meadow and reported that there was a nest with two blue eggs in it. The upper-most branches are too thin to support anyone but her, so we had to take her word for it.

A week later she climbed the tree again and said the eggs were gone, replaced with weird-looking pink things.

"Are they cute?" I asked.

"No, Mom. Not cute at all."

From the ground we watched the parents (robins) fly to the nest carrying worms in their beaks.

A few days later, she called down that the baby birds were fluffy and feathery.

Then we went out of town. When we returned, the nest was empty.

When we were sure the robins weren't coming back, she retrieved the nest and climbed down one-handed.

When a bird weaves a nest--this clever little object--with mud, straw, and strips of plastic, I want to say it's like magic, because it happens without visible human input, and inspires a sense of wonder. But it's kind of the opposite of magic. A nest, a clutch of eggs, and then a bird family do not appear whole cloth out of thin air--they are the results of steady work, and all connected to the earth.

My children have shown me the mysterious other-ness of the natural world is everywhere. In our scruffy sub-tropical city full of untidy corners, they don't have to look hard to find it.

Parkridge Butterfly Meadow in the news

Our local paper did a nice write-up of the Butterfly Meadow!  Terry Shaw, the author of the piece, lives in the neighborhood and sometimes walks his dog in the meadow.

Replacing Grass with Grass

Some of the work we do in the meadow is less than glamorous.

Lately we've been working to eradicate Bermuda grass—an invasive plant from the Eastern Hemisphere with an aggressive root system. According to Wikipedia, Bermuda grass is so called because it is incredibly invasive there, and is probably the point from which it entered North America. Bermuda grass spreads quickly in sunny areas, forming a dense mat that chokes out existing plants and prevents the growth of anything else. As far as I know, Bermuda grass does not provide food or habitat for any native Tennessee wildlife.

To eradicate the grass, you have to make sure to remove all the roots, and pile them on top of concrete or something so they'll dry out. If even a tiny piece remains in the ground, the grass can soon reestablish itself. The roots run deep into the clay, and are super brittle. Trying to kill it—without poisons, of course—is a lot of hot, tedious, unrewarding, cussing-under-your-breath work.

Our strategy is to get as much of the root system as we can, then pile a lot of mulch on top of the area we just weeded. A week later we will do another sweep. The loose mulch makes it easier to pull up the new growth from the inevitable roots we accidentally left behind.

Besides doing our best to kill grass, we are also planting grass.

Brian Campbell, horticulturist at the Knoxville Botanical Gardens and Arboretum, and champion of the Butterfly Conservation Meadow, donated a couple flats of native grasses and other plants grown from seeds collected at Cades Cove. The flats consist of tiny plugs of potting soil with baby sprouted grasses sticking out the top. More than one person has remarked they are oddly adorable. Please see photo below.

Among the species we have planted in the meadow are little bluestem and big bluestem, bunch-style prairie grasses that have grown in Cades Cove since prehistoric times. This prairie grass was mostly displaced by fescue and other livestock forage grasses planted by European settlers. Park employees are now working to reestablish the native grassland.

Bluestem grasses provide food and habitat for small animals and birds including quail. Could it be possible to attract quail to Parkridge?

We are planting these grasses into the clay in the center of the lot where the house burned. Hopefully they'll make it. Grow little grass plugs, grow.

Snakes and the City

One of our first wildlife encounters in the meadow was with this small brown snake, lying stiff and cold--but alive--under a  pile of boards. This was in February, so we were surprised to see her (or him.)

Now we see a brown snake or two almost every day, especially when pulling out old raised beds. They are usually lying alone or in pairs, in dark, cool places, like under stones and rotting timbers. They really are called "brown snakes," the genus name is Storeria.  They eat worms and slugs, and are often eaten themselves by birds such as Towhees. (These striking orange, black, and white birds are regularly spotted in the Parkridge Butterfly Meadow.)

The shy, harmless brown snakes remain tiny, not much bigger than an earthworm, and are probably the most common snakes in Knoxville because they have adapted so well to urban and suburban environments. One of my Woodbine neighbors likes to see them in her garden; she takes their presence as a sign of a healthy habitat.

Brown snakes are perfect for the budding herpetologist learning how to identify, catch, and gently handle reptiles before releasing them back into the "wild." They have small heads and tiny mouths, too small to deliver a painful bite, and rows of dark spots down their backs. They will release a terrible odor if frightened, and, like all reptiles, they may carry salmonella bacteria, so it is important to have young herpetologists wash their hands afterwards.

My six-year-old daughter especially loves brown snakes, and seems to feel a lot of sympathy for them.

This afternoon when I asked her what she liked about them she replied:

"They way they feel in my hands. The one I caught yesterday was wrapping itself around my fingers, like, I want to stay with you! Sometimes they are like, I'm outta here!"

She is not allowed to keep a snake as a pet in the house, so, for now, she must enjoy them in the meadow.

The Backstory

For nearly one hundred years a beautiful house lived in a beautiful garden on the corner of 5th and Polk.

After a devastating fire in 2010, the house-less lot sat for a couple years with a "For Sale" sign in the planting verge out front. The owner, who lost everything in the fire, moved out of state. The lot filled up with trash. Weeds ran riot in the raised beds, fast-growing invasive trees and shrubs shot for the sky, and the meticulously cultivated formal garden went totally bananas.

Even so, elements of that formal garden remained: Raised beds, stone walls, and brick pathways. Pink and white dogwoods, enormous azaleas, a coral bark Japanese maple, fruit-bearing peach trees, a weeping magnolia, roses, ornamental cherries, holly trees, too many ornamental grasses and vines to name, and a small hardy orange tree growing in the middle of a bamboo grove.

"No hunting, trapping, fishing or trespassing! " read the signs on the gates. Still, ladies of the night, and sometimes ladies of the mid-afternoon, took their Johns to the bamboo grove. The lot became a place to misbehave.

Sometimes I put on my heavy gloves and picked up a token bag of trash around the picket fence while my children climbed trees and picked flowers. My small house with its small yard is just down the street from the lot. In fact, when I first bought my house, I would show off the house and garden at the corner of 5th and Polk to visitors.

"See? That's a nice house," I'd say, trying to impress my visitors with the worthiness of my mostly working-class neighborhood.

I didn't know yet that some of the worst-looking houses held the best neighbors.

Today, the long double lot, with a downward slope facing north away from a busy street, still has trees and bushes growing against the fence surrounding the property. Of course, there is an empty place in the middle where the house used to be. Standing in this private meadow one late-summer day I felt an stab of desire for the land. I fall into crushes with land like this every so often, the desire to own it and protect it and keep it exactly the way it is, except maybe make it a little bit better. Usually, the land is way out of my price range, but this lot was almost doable.

Some of the lot was clay and mud, but some of it was tall grass, like a real meadow, and it was full of birds. 

 We knew the owner slightly, and when we called him on the phone he gave us a very nice deal. I think he was happy to sell it, finally. We borrowed money from our parents, collected our tax return, cashed in some savings, and bought the lot.

We hauled out a ton of trash, cleared the fallen limbs, and pulled up piles of privet (a lot remains still.) We had an inaugural bonfire, and mixed the ashes into the clay. We spread mulch, sowed seeds of grasses and flowers, and planted two native trees (a persimmon and a paw paw.) We removed the signs reading, "No hunting, trapping, fishing, or trespassing."

The Butterfly Meadow is a tiny urban wilderness, inspired and informed by the Knoxville Botanical Garden Butterfly Meadow. Its purpose is to attract wildlife, especially butterflies and birds, through special plantings and lightly managing the existing trees and other plants. 

We hope that mowed paths and clearings will encourage visitors, especially children in the neighborhood, to explore, become comfortable with plants and animals, and learn to trust themselves in a place that is tangly and alive, yet surrounded by asphalt on three sides. The Parkridge Butterfly Meadow is a work in progress, but we are happy with it even now. It is not perfect, it's not meant to be. It's a different kind of nature than that found in a city-maintained park or playground. We expect to still be picking up candy wrappers and Kool-aid bottles, and we don't expect everyone who visits to be on their best behavior. But we do believe that beautiful places make the world better.

We believe these words of John Muir are true:

"Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul."