Successive Blooms and Co-Habitation

Perennial crocus in Anchorage, AK

No variety of plant thrives in solitary confinement, contrary to what folks who want perfect lawns might desire. Look at a native woodland edge, horizontal lines can practically be drawn across the vista as the species step down in size: canopy topping evergreen or deciduous trees, medium height trees with lower canopy, large shrubby evergreens or deciduous plants, herbaceous perennials, grasses, woodland wildflowers, short grasses and sedges, ground covers and vines, fungus, and the soil layer—too many strata of life to list here. 

Tended gardens benefit from co-habitation showing off for their human parents nearly all year. Here is a lovely example of a small flower bed in Anchorage. The crocuses planted in fall bloom first at the end of April through first of May. Some varieties of crocus are perennial and return year after year. Fritillaries, also known as speckled lilies, spike up midway through the crocus season and, like a blown-up balloon, out pop the dangly speckled lilies. There are hundreds of flowers called fritillaries, even a native variety in Alaska: Fritillaria camschatcensis, chocolate lily—that’ll show up here when it’s in bloom. There are even butterflies named fritillaries too. This variety is most likely Fritillaria meleagris. Surrounding and covering the crocus and lilies is a fine mat of creeping thyme. The thyme is evergreen acting as a blanket in winter, then as a mulch in summer. Most thyme thrive in the sun and in beds with good drainage. This little spot is slightly raised, about eight inches above grade, allowing sufficient water run-off.

Fritillaria meleagris surrounded by creeping thyme.

Underneath the bed is an old tree root from which mushrooms occasionally sprout. Not that it was planted there on purpose, the tree’s demise came long before the homeowner arrived. There are some cases where a tree root or log may be placed purposefully, it could be for a hugelkulture project, or fungus growing operation. Hugelkulture allows property owners to keep tree material they have removed from their property, on their property. Logs and limbs are piled largest on bottom to smallest on top with leaf material, twigs, and other organic matter filling in. As soil bacteria, mycelia, lichen, grasses, and insects move into the new hill of a home, co-habitation works like a charm and over time the pile becomes a natural berm. 

Plants in isolation suffer attacks from predators more often than vibrant ecosystems teeming with varied species. Monocultures are weakened by lack of biodiversity. Species in diverse landscapes support each another whether through decomposition into appropriate nutrients, symbiosis, shading, or simply holding each other upright. Working together, now that is a perfect environment.

Meanwhile, Spring Arrives in Alaska

The classic dream, a white picket fence and a rich bloomer, here it is Forsythia.

Though most parts of the country bask in summer—even Alaskan’s call this summer—botanically it’s still spring in the Great Land. Crocus came and left, tulips on southern exposures are blooming while their siblings in cooler spots will dot landscapes by end of May. Peony shoots have been working hard for the past month after snow left early this year—road crews began sweeping streets and sidewalks about three weeks prior to historical timelines. Spring primula are blooming, and vivid yellow pops of forsythia surprise walkers in older neighborhoods. Summers glow with twenty to twenty-four hours of sunlight per day in the north spurring all this rapid growth. The climate taught native and adapted plants to get it on in three busy months.

Primula working it's way up through last fall's leaves, April 22

And here’s a naturally curious tidbit about insects up north, some overwinter. Yes there are the standard flies, some adults live in crevices of buildings creeping out as higher angles of warm sun rays heat exteriors of structures. It’s kind of unnerving to open your curtains to a dozen or so pests frantically searching for an escape route between the window and screen. Tortoiseshell butterfly adults overwinter, the poor bedraggled wings flitting to warm gravel spots to elevate their body temperature. Even spiders, beetles, wasps, bumble bees, and other types of flies in the wild evolved to change their inner fluids to a sort of anti-freeze as they crawl under leaf litter to wait out the cold. Slugs have left pearly beads of eggs in the same leaf litter and anxious gardeners hope those beetles will find the eggs before they hatch. 

Milbert's tortoiseshell butterfly, April.

We’re preparing gardens now for planting, in fact some perennials went in the ground at the beginning of May. Homesteaders eager to get their own food growing traditionally planted gardens the first of June in South Central Alaska. Over the past fifteen years planting days crept up about three weeks earlier, depending on who you ask. Gardeners living on south facing slopes, or in warm coastal microclimates are a week ahead of those living in cool swales and at the feet of the Chugach Mountains. Flower cutting gardens, long the envy of plant lovers from the Lower 48, will soon burst with color. Those who moved to Anchorage in the early to mid-twentieth century surrounded themselves with towering delphiniums, plump peonies, and dazzling dahlias. That still happens today, along with trollius, primulas, clematis, and hostas.  

Lawn post snow, April 22

May 15, first watering

Plants are living with the climate adjustment. Thank goodness for all those overwintering insects, the early bloomers will be happy to host them.

My Fun Invasive Plant Essay in Alaska Women Speak

The first of many to come.

It began like many of my essays, with a question. Since I am a gardener and native plant aficionado, people often ask: “what’s wrong with non-native plants moving in, the bees seem to like them?” That is a heavy question with many possible responses. It is not easy to answer in conversation because it is often hard to hold someone’s attention while trying verbally explain all the nuance of an ecosystem.

Another discussion that is active in Alaska is the question of colonization. While is it mostly discussed in the context of human sociological terms, I thought why not apply it in botanical terms? After all, as the climate warms, the polar regions are most affected by temperature change which is changing the vegetative landscape. When a call came out for presenters at the 2019 UAA English Department Pacific Rim Conference titled “Reframing Colonialism,” I took the opportunity to write my invasive plant story.

For this reading and essay, I imagined life from the perspective of a native plant. I figured if I could put the listener, or reader in that position, they might better understand why native plants are important; and what purpose they serve in the zones where they live. My reading was met with a positive response and an invitation to submit the essay, “Our Dandelions Aren’t Bullies” to Alaska Women Speak magazine.

“Our Dandelions Aren’t Bullies” is written from the position of a native orchid. The essay shows the effect of invasive European dandelions on the life cycle of a lady slipper orchid, the orchid’s importance to native insects, and the difference between native and alien dandelions. The essay is short—1000 words, engaging, and lively.

Though it was published in last summer’s issue, you can get digital subscriptions, mail subscriptions, and donate to support this creative nonprofit literary journal: https://alaskawomenspeak.org/

Thank you Alaska Women Speak for your existence and support of Alaska writers!