Plant Native Trees Now

 

Or tomorrow; or next week; or next month. Late fall is the best time to plant trees in Georgia, and some areas of Georgia can plant in winter. Georgia’s Arbor Day is in February, proof that it is a good time (not April when it is getting too warm already to establish trees). Tree and shrub roots get their best start during our cool and wet winter season.

A collection of oaks with one pine

As more development advances, native trees are the biggest loss. Even the ragged edge of sweetgums, tuliptrees, pines, and maples found on vacant lots and roadsides are serving the native ecosystem while they remain. All too often those trees fall to parking lots replanted with exotic plants like crape myrtles, Chinese pistache, and loropetalums. Some older parking areas were landscaped with red maples, many of which are still colorful this week. Newer parking lots are not using them as much.

You can make a difference by planting native trees in your landscape and recommending that areas near you do too. Several of my previous blogs help explain why and give links to many of my native tree posts over the years:

A Native Tree is Not Just a Tree – it’s an ecosystem.

Get a Tree That Does More – ideas for trees by category (spring flowers, fall color, underused trees, small trees).

A Celebration of Trees – links to most of my tree posts, including evergreen ideas.

So get out there and make plans to add more native trees to your landscape. Replace an exotic tree like crape myrtle if you need to make room; I think Serviceberry makes a great replacement! It doesn’t have to be a big tree; science has proven that smaller trees recover from the transplant sooner and grow to equal a bigger tree in just a few years.

Serviceberry in spring, summer, and fall

November 2024 Moment in Nature

A late-blooming native flower is always welcome, even if we had to bring it up here from the Coastal Plain. Climbing aster (Ampelaster carolinianus) is native of swamps, thickets, marshes, streambanks, freshwater tidal marshes and swamps - mostly in Florida but perhaps also in one south Georgia county (Chatham County).

Ampelaster carolinianus

It is sold in Georgia, even up to my area of the Piedmont, where it is a rambling, late-blooming woody plant (sometimes called a shrub, sometimes called a vine). I have one in my garden where it scrambles through a wooden fence in search of protection from the deer.

Seek out and enjoy your #momentinnature as often as you can.

Fight for Conservation

 

Georgia aster (Symphyotrichum georgianum S3)

Once nature is no longer protected, it is hard or – in some cases – impossible to get back. As environmental stewards process where we are at this moment in America, it’s time to double down. Vital lands and resources are once again at risk, and it’s up to us to protect them. For a preview of the kinds of changes waiting ahead, the folks at Alt National Park shared this impact list compiled from 4 years ago.

Seek out the causes that are important to you: local lands, state & national parks, tribal lands, ocean health, endangered organisms. Join groups that monitor environmental issues so that you have enough notice to take action when needed. In addition to the ones mentioned in the linked article (Earthjustice, Center for Biological Diversity, Sierra Club, National Resources Defense Council), I would also mention Southern Environmental Law Center and The Nature Conservancy.

Donate your time, your talents, and money if you are able. As always, convince others that these issues are important. Remember, there is no Planet B and birds, insects, and animals have only us to speak for them. Let’s get busy.

This is How a Robin Drinks (the book)

 

The author of this new book is absolutely a kindred spirit for me. This is a collection of urban nature essays that remind you that nature is right outside our door. I first heard of Jo Brichetto’s Sidewalk Nature blog from my friend Gail in Nashville, TN. Subtitled “Everyday wonders in everyday habitat loss,” my own experiences in Georgia can validate what she is experiencing just 4 hours north of me.

The stories of her exploring nature at baseball fields while her child played (I mean, you might as well, right?); shouting out findings to anyone with her (“Coopers hawk!”); getting excited that someone was taking a picture of a hackberry (“That man sees that tree!”); all of these are my same types of ups and downs (he didn’t see that tree after all) that come with living in urban nature.

This collection of essays is grouped by season but they are perfect for anytime. If you’re a Southerner, you’ll enjoy her easy conversational style, sprinkled with the expressions we all grew up with (and if not, you’ll be amused by them at least). Most importantly, these are stories of someone living with nature every day: in every walk and car ride; with every sound, smell, and wayward leaf; and sharing it as much as possible with those who will listen … and learn.

In the catalpa story in the spring section, we discover someone did listen (and those rewards keep us all going). I’ll let you read about that yourself but leave you with her delightful description of the flowers: 

“Catalpa blooms such blooms. Big, frilly, and so exotic I’d never buy them if they were in a flower shop, which they aren’t, and if I bought cut flowers, which I don’t. They look like some made-up tropical thing on a sunscreen bottle, but catalpa is a native tree. They are as Nashville as Osage orange or black locust, and nearly as redneck as a hackberry.”

Catalpa speciosa

American Weeds in Japan

 

I visited Japan earlier this month and was surprised to spot several of our native plants behaving badly in unmanaged spaces such as along railroad tracks and on the edges of fields. The first one I noticed was mare’s tail (Erigeron canadensis syn. Conyza canadensis), an annual plant that was growing in cracks and untended sidewalk plots near our hotel in Tokyo. It was amusing to see this little weed work its way into the urban environment.

Solidago altissima

Erigeron canadensis

A trip to Mt. Fuji took us by train through rural areas and revealed a far more serious invasive: tall goldenrod (Solidago altissima). The spread of this plant in large groups and across large areas was disturbing (no pun intended). This website explains that it was intentionally brought in as an ornamental and for honeybee support around 1900 and tends to be its most aggressive in untended areas.

Aggressive spread of goldenrod

Other invasive American plants can be found on this list, including giant and common ragweed (Ambrosia), broomsedge (Andropogon), tickseed (Bidens), black locust (Robinia pseudoacacia), pokeweed (Phytolacca americana), and ticktrefoil (Desmodium). I personally saw all these things just in our short visit and limited travels.

Giant ragweed

Pokeweed

I saw other American natives being used deliberately as ornamentals such as black-eyed Susans (Rudbeckia) and scarlet hibiscus (Hibiscus coccineus). A visit to an ornamental garden in the Mt Fuji area found plants like sourwood (Oxydendrum arboreum), oakleaf hydrangea (Hydrangea quercifolia), and muhly grass (Muhlenbergia capillaris).

Other exotic plants that are invasive for us were also invasive for them, of course, but I was also particularly on the lookout for some of their native plants that are invasive to us—kudzu and Japanese knotweed, for example—and I did see them growing rampantly in untended areas, especially along railways. I also was curious about finding their native Jorō spiders and we did, particularly in the more natural areas around Mt Fuji. The webs were big and communal, just like here.

Cryptomeria japonica at
Kitaguchi Hongu Fuji Sengen Shrine 

My trip would not have been complete without admiring some of their beautiful Japanese maples both in gardens and in the wild. 

We also found lots of Japanese cedar (Cryptomeria japonica), both in the wild and at temples and shrines (these enormous trees are sometimes called Japanese Temple Cedars and are quite revered). Azaleas were not blooming but they were frequently used as urban street shrubs, and of course Japanese cherry trees were everywhere (again, not blooming).

October 2024 Moment in Nature

While autumn temperatures may go up and down, confusing humans as to whether it's "fall fall" or just "false fall," the plants know what to do. Late season native fruits are ripening and one that I always look out for is our native persimmon (Diospyros virginiana). 

I found this one on a tree near my neighborhood, same as every year, and the comfort of natural rhythms is very soothing in an ever-changing world.

While this particular discovery is my #momentinnature for this month, I will share with you a previous instance, full of the mischief of the upcoming holiday.

Strange Fruit: Oak Galls

Native oaks (Quercus spp.) are keystone species for insects and the ecosystems in Georgia. Over 550 species of Lepidoptera (butterflies and moths) use them as a host plant, and their larvae (caterpillars) are important sources of food for birds and other predators. Other insects rely on oaks too and sometimes their use of oaks creates growths that might appear to be flowers or fruit. These growths are the plants’ response to the egg-laying activities of small wasps or midges. According to this article, there are around 800 different types of galls to be found on oaks in the US/Mexico/Canada areas.

I have seen a number of different types of oak galls in my area and I have pictures of some but not all of them. I will supplement this post with photos from others (each image is credited unless it is mine). Perhaps the most noticeable of the oak galls in my area is the Wool Sower Gall. When it is at its best, it is a fluffy white ball with red spots created at leaf buds. Identification groups get dozens of requests to identify “this tree” when the galls are prolific.

Wool Sower Gall on white oak (Quercus alba)

Some galls are leaf galls – meaning the tiny insects lay eggs in the leaf – while others are stem galls. A friend of mine recently found an excellent example of a mid-rib type of gall, perhaps the Clustered Midrib Gall Wasp (Andricus dimorphus).

Mid-rib leaf gall (D. Lane photo)

Another fairly noticeable type is the Oak Apple Gall. By the time most people find it on the ground where it fell, it is a lightweight, papery husk.

Oak Apple Gall (Joe Boggs photo)

One year there was an abundance small, hard red galls that look like aborted fruits. The identification groups in Georgia got numerous questions on what tree produced these.

Small galls that look like fruits (wasp larva in center)

In researching for this article, I found great information on an Ohio website. It contains a number of articles on the different types of oak galls. It is one of the few sites that presents information without trying to give guidance on how to kill them. 

Most galls seem harmless to the tree, but some can cause minor twig damage. None are fatal to the host plant. The diversity of shapes and sizing is incredible. Look out for galls on your oak trees and be amazed at what nature can do.