Spicebush. Photo contributed

SPICEBUSH! I BRAKED MY MOUNTAIN BIKE hard to take a closer look. I was pleased to see dozens of Lindera benzoin scattered beneath the cottonwood trees, in a section of Schodack Island State Park not yet swamped by invasives. The cottonwoods were bare, and the surrounding weeds still green, so the luminous yellow of the spicebushes gave them center stage on a cloudy fall day. Bike botany, neat native plants, glorious autumn—by George, who could ask for anything more?

I first appreciated spicebush along another trail, the Bronx River Parkway, where it grows in profusion in the damp soil. Indigenous to much of the eastern half of the country, it is a medium-sized understory shrub about 12 feet tall. All parts of the plant have a strong aromatic odor, pleasing in an odd medicinal way. Flowering in very early spring, its clusters of small yellow blossoms are much more demure than brassy forsythia, but attractive nonetheless. Spring flowers sell plants, but whereas you’ll find forsythia for sale in droves at the big boxes, spicebush is more difficult to discover in the nursery trade and sought out only by those in the know (such as you and I). Someday, when the public gains a greater appreciation of our native flora, perhaps the sales figures on these two species will be reversed, with spicebush finding a place in just about every local landscape now occupied by a forsythia. Read more…

“The falling leaves drift by the window

The autumn leaves of red and gold

I see your lips, the summer kisses

The sun-burned hands I used to hold”

JOHNNY MERCER’S LYRICS are a little too personal in Covid time, and the hands may be sun-burned for a most unromantic reason—too much yard work. And if you follow the standard practices of raking and bagging, the autumn leaves only add to the toil.

Those same leaves which inspired the poets have gained the attention of a much more practical lot, scientists at state universities. Researchers at Purdue point out that chopping up leaves with a mulching mower and leaving them on the lawn is less time consuming than blowing, raking or vacuuming them away. Mulching leaves has no effect on soil pH or nutrient availability. It does not increase the amount of thatch or the chances the lawn might come down with a fungal disease.

In fact, mulching leaves into a lawn often improves the soil structure, which, in practical terms, means the soil particles stick together better. This, ergo, means the soil will be less compacted, contain bigger pore spaces better able to hold both air and water, and increase the activity of beneficial soil-dwelling organisms. So, on a microscopic level, mulching is a win-win proposition for both you and the ground you stand upon. Read more…

Oriental bittersweet climbs trees, shown here. Photo contributed

IMAGINE AN ORNAMENTAL PLANT which grows quickly, with no insect pests or fungal diseases. It produces highly attractive orange fruits in fall, perfect to pair with pumpkins and mums. It requires no watering or fertilizer, grows in any soil, and thrives in sun or shade. And best of all, deer don’t eat it! Did these positive qualities run through someone’s mind as they brought the first plants of oriental bittersweet to the United States in the 1860s? Certainly they couldn’t have foreseen that this plant would grow into the environment-changer we live with today.

Once you know oriental bittersweet, you’ll find it’s just about everywhere in our part of the Hudson Valley. It’s a vine that can climb 60 feet or more into the trees, sometimes pulling them down as it spreads. It grows on top of less aggressive vines, such as native Virginia creeper, smothering them, too. It also forms dense thickets, leaving no room for woody plants or wildflowers to survive or regenerate. It turns the landscape into a mass of indistinct, foliage-covered forms, making things look strange and degraded. Oriental bittersweet covers natural places, like Schodack Island State Park and Papscanee Island Preserve. Its abundant in cultivated landscapes too, often seen growing up chain link fences in the city and scaling spruces in the suburbs. I’m pulling up seedlings like crazy at my place, trying to hold a line in the shifting sand. Read more…