Good Year, Bad Year

Puddock Hill Journal #42: No matter what we do, nature has its own rhythms.

Jul 14, 2023

Toward the end of May 2022, we were privileged to have a visit from Dr. Richard and Mrs. Sally Lighty. Dick was largely responsible for instituting the native plant program at Mt. Cuba Center and setting the gardens on their path toward public programming.

We took a walk about Puddock Hill, and the Lightys were struck by the profusion of fleabanes (Erigeron spp.) flowering all over the property, from the slope to the wet meadow to the edge of the east woods to the big pond embankment.

There were flowers by the thousands last year, and I felt a certain pride in having encouraged them via my backyard stewardship program of benign neglect. Had we mowed or string trimmed the property to a fare-thee-well, none of these delicate beauties would have had a chance to bloom.

Three species of fleabane grow in our area—Philadelphia fleabane (E. philadelphicus), Eastern daisy fleabane (E. annuus), and daisy fleabane (E. strigosus). Their flowers are similar, and we did not undertake an examination of their foliage to inventory what we saw that day, but the sheer volume was impressive.

This year? Meh. There are a few growing about, but no more than a tenth of what we saw last year. Perhaps, in fact, we’re seeing one variety this year and saw a different one last year, as many of the plants are biennial, but I suspect it’s just one of those mysteries of nature. A good year for the fleabanes followed by a bad year for the fleabanes.

Similarly, the hydrangeas seem to flower profusely every other year and put on a rather muted show in between. And last summer, after years of concerted efforts to avoid plowing down the milkweed (Asclepias spp.), frustratingly few plants cropped up. This year, they’re suddenly everywhere, although—alas—the monarchs so far have failed to materialize.

On the other hand, last year the wet meadow was thick with dogbane (Apocynum cannabinum)—a plant that is often confused with milkweed. (By humans, that is; I’ve no doubt that the arthropods know the difference.) This year, I’m seeing some but not nearly so much.

This does appear to be a good summer for vines. Native poison ivy (Toxicodendron radicans) and Virginia creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia) are cropping up everywhere. Even though its berries feed native birds, I fight back some of the poison ivy—the only native I ever oppose—because it presents a nuisance to us humans. But I welcome the Virginia creeper, which I hope, will one day outcompete invasive porcelainberry with a little help, since they have similar habits. The Lady Bird Johnson Wildlife Center lists the following benefits to wildlife for this plant: “Fruit-birds, through the winter, inc. chickadees, nuthatches, mockingbirds, catbirds, finches, flycatchers, tanagers, swallows, vireos, warblers, woodpeckers, and thrushes. A larval host for several species of sphinx moths.” Sadly, to the uninitiated it suffers from its reputation as a weed.

Unfortunately, whatever conditions are making it a good year for the above natives are making it a similarly good year for above-mentioned procelainberry, and for multiflora rose and Asian bittersweet (Celastrus orbiculatus). I thought I had the latter two under control last year, but they have come roaring back. My human arrogance, no doubt revealed. What held them in check was more likely the rhythm of nature.

I could go on and list a dozen other plants that are up or down this year. Chicory, an endemic not said to be invasive, is having a great year, for example, blue flowers all over the place, while I’ve spotted little ironweed so far. And so it goes.

Had I lived at Puddock Hill for decades and kept careful journals about weather and other conditions, I might be able to tell you what causes any given plant to have a particularly robust year or a season of paucity, but we’ve only had the property fifteen years, a mere three years with the deer fence, and in any case I’m a poor record keeper. *sigh*

Did the balance of flora at Puddock Hill this year result from the mild winter? The dry spring? Other factors? I haven’t the slightest clue. But the broader point remains that the natural world follows its own cadence.

Gather ye fleabanes while ye may!

It looks like it will be a good summer for native Carolina horse nettle (Solanum carolinense). We have it all over, with this one growing near the wet meadow: