Fall Stars
Puddock Hill Journal #76: Before the leaves turn, asters become the stars of the fall show.
We went from a long dry spell in late August and early September to currently soaking conditions, and through it all the asters rocked on.
Every year, I only begin to notice this keystone species in late August, when they seemingly materialize out of nowhere, cropping up in wooded margins, along the stream bed, in no-mow areas, on the banks of the ponds, in the wet meadow, and in the wet woods. Okay, pretty much everywhere.
When the weather was so dry that bare spots in paths became compacted and cracked, the asters didn’t seem to mind. As we began cutting back the lawn where invasives such as Japanese stiltgrass were moving in, we mowed around them as best we could. There they stood like proud soldiers in the lawn, buds suddenly appearing, then growing plump, daring anything to defeat them. I thought the dryness would postpone their blooms, but they opened right on schedule. Now, as rain falls, they’re near peak.
Among all the yellows of fall that I wrote about last week, our native asters (Symphyotrichum and Eurybria spp.) offer a range of contrasting whites and pale blues with yellow and sometimes russet centers. Here they are among goldenrod in the wet woods from two vantage points:
The common name “aster” derives from Latin “astrum,” meaning star, a reference to the flower’s appearance. There are hundreds of aster species native to North America and over 35 native to Pennsylvania. I figure four or five are dominant at Puddock Hill, including calico aster (Symphyotrichum lateriflorum), hairy white oldfield aster (Symphyotrichum pilosum), New York aster (Symphyotrichum novi-belgii), panicled aster (Symphyotrichum lanceolatum), and white woodland aster (Eurybia divaricata). The New York aster, however, may be smooth swamp aster (Symphyotrichum firmum); to be frank, I have trouble distinguishing them.
In addition to beautifying the early fall landscape, asters play an important role in the local ecology. According to the National Wildlife Federation, 115 species of butterflies and moths use asters as a host plant in our area. The arcigera flower moth (Schinia arcigera) and the cloaked marvel (Chytonix palliatricula) require asters exclusively.
The asteroid paint (Cucullia asteroides) relies on both aster and goldenrod, and the brown-hooded owlet (Cucullia convexipennis), green leuconycta (Leuconycta diphteroides), American painted lady (Vanessa virginiensis), Isabella tiger moth (Pyrrharctia Isabella), wavy-lined emerald (Synchlora aerata), Cecropia silk moth (Hyalophora cecropia), mimic crescent (Phyciodes incognitus) and and half a dozen other Lepidoptera species without common names use asters and several other species as host plants. Asters also support native bees and other pollinators preparing for winter.
I bother with these nearly exhaustive lists from time to time to emphasize how important our native species are to the fabric of life. No asters, no arcigera flower moth or cloaked marvel. No asters and goldenrods, no asteroid paint caterpillar and no goldenrod hooded owlet moth. Fewer insects, fewer birds. And so it goes.
Further up the food chain, asters support birds and small mammals in other ways. According to Exploring Birds, birds that eat New England aster seeds, for example, include American goldfinch, black-capped chickadee, blue jay, dark-eyed junco, eastern towhee, indigo bunting, northern cardinal, ruby-throated hummingbird, tufted titmouse, and white-breasted nuthatch. The plants also draw insectivorous birds in general, there to consume some of the arthropods gorging themselves on the flowers.
The Brandywine Conservancy near Puddock Hill lists asters as No. 2 in their Top Ten Power Plants. An article from Penn State Extension says, “The Connecticut Audubon Society reports that seeds from asters attract orange-crowned warblers (Leiothlypis celata), dark-eyed juncos (Junco hyemalis), indigo buntings (Passerina cyanea), American goldfinches (Spinus tristis), and American tree sparrow (Spizelloides arborea) to name a few. Other creatures benefit from the seeds, like mice, which help feed snakes and raptors. Not only a food source but once winter arrives, an array of insects take shelter in their depleted stalks.”
Right now, especially on sunny days, we see more pollinators on our asters and goldenrods than we seem to see all year. I wonder whether this is because perennials in most of the gardens around us have stopped flowering and so few wild yards remain that the insects must converge on us from miles around.
So be it. Our asters captivate insects as effectively as they captivate us.
Asters up close:
Late-blooming native coreopsis looks lush right now in the patio garden:
Native pickerelweed in the big pond continues going strong:
A flower arrangement of Pam’s incorporates dahlias and native bits:
It’s good that, while weeding the front garden bed, I didn’t touch this late instar saddleback caterpillar (which will soon become an Acharia stimulea moth) . They have a painful sting!