Posts Tagged Sweet Bay Magnolia
Astronomically speaking, autumn begins with the vernal equinox, which will occur on September 22. However in my yard, autumn’s influence is showing more every day. But at the same time, summer has not surrendered, thanks to frequent August rains and high temperatures that have not ventured near the record heat wave that plagued us during much of July.
In the last few days, our first round of autumn air has chilled our mornings, leaving heavy dew on grass, leaves, and garden benches, and bright blue, humidity-free skies that beckon birds to start thinking about their southerly migrations.
The late-summer rains have confused some of my plants — like the Florida Anise-tree in the opening photo. While still ripening the abundant fruits it produced from its spring flowers, it has put out quite a respectable second flush of new flowers. All the trees — red- and white-bloomers are doing this to some extent.
The annual flowers in my vegetable garden are also reinvigorated, looking nearly as lush as they did in June — quite unusual in recent summers.
But most plants are well into seed-production mode. My pecan trees this year set abundant fruit, but I suspect the July heat wave damaged them. Instead of being harvested and devoured by squirrels, most of the nuts have fallen to the ground. A few look as if the squirrels tasted and rejected them.
Only a few nuts still remain on the trees, apparently more successful in maturing to full ripeness, as these two here:
The bronze fennel I grow in the vegetable garden as food for Black Swallowtail caterpillars were not visited by those butterfly larvae this year. Instead, they bloomed prolifically, and now their seeds have ripened in abundance. I predict a bumper crop of fennel volunteers in my garden next spring.
Fruit set on the native trees is abundant. Pileated woodpeckers are arguing daily over dogwood (Cornus florida) berries, which turn scarlet well before their leaves.
The long, mild spring helped the Sweet Bay Magnolia (Magnolia virginiana) produce an abundance of fruit-filled, squat cones:
Local wildlife seems to be working overtime as winter’s cold looms closer. Last week, I had noticed that a few tadpoles were still lingering in my little water feature. This morning, when the thermometer on our hill read 49.3 degrees Fahrenheit, a new froglet emerged and settled on a dew-covered leaf. These little ones never photograph well for me, but I think perhaps it’s another Cope’s Gray Treefrog. I hope so.
Two hours later, one of the Green Frogs that’s been living in the water feature all summer emerged seeking sun. These frogs have more than doubled in size since they first arrived after a rainy night.
The insects and arachnids seem to go into a near frenzy of activity this time of year, perhaps trying to squeeze in one more generation of themselves before winter’s cold shuts down production. Two days ago, I was surprised to see a male Carolina Mantis on the wall beside my front door. I know he was a male, because he was so skinny that I at first thought I was looking at a very large Walking Stick insect. Then he turned his characteristic triangular head in my direction, and I realized my mistake.
I haven’t seen a Carolina Mantis in my yard in maybe ten years. The Chinese Mantises were all I saw, and even they have been sparse this year, I think due to a lizard population explosion in my front garden.
I suspect this fellow was looking for a mate, and I hope he found one. I’m all for helping our native mantises thrive. Click on the photo below to enlarge it enough to see that he was staring at me.
The Black and Yellow Garden Spiders (Writing Spiders) are disappearing one by one. I think they are laying their egg cases, then fading into oblivion. Two large ones remain in my front garden. This beauty resides in my lantana hedge, where she grows fat on unwary butterflies and moths. Check out the design on her back:
Another one lives beside my little water feature. This morning, she was waiting patiently for breakfast:
The other Garden Spiders that once resided in the plants that sit within my water feature have all vanished. But one left behind a very large egg case. Before I carry the water plants inside my greenhouse for the winter, I’ll gently relocate this case to a spot in the garden where the hatchlings will be appreciated next spring.
Finally, two caterpillars crossed my path this morning. Caterpillars are everywhere right now. I know this by the frass (entomologist jargon for caterpillar poop) littering my deck below the oak tree, and by the myriad birds that hunt for them in the trees all day. I’ve been hearing the chipping call of a patrolling Summer Tanager nearby for several weeks.
This intimidating caterpillar was on my deck railing this morning.
Don’t touch those hairs. They will sting and give you a painful rash. This one likely fell from the oak tree above where I found it.
This one and its siblings have been eating my native coral honeysuckle for a couple of weeks now.
Honeysuckle is one of this species’ favorite food groups, and my vine is huge, so I let them have their way. They don’t eat the flowers or fruits, merely stripping the vines of leaves in a few spots. Note the discarded skin on the branch behind it, left over from an earlier molting.
How do I know the identity of these caterpillars? I’m glad you asked. Everything I know about caterpillars I learned from my go-to reference — Caterpillars of Eastern North America by David L. Wagner. Dr. Wagner’s book is full of excellent photos and all the information you need to know about what the caterpillars eat and what they’ll turn into. I highly recommend this book.
That’s just a sample of what’s going on right now on my patch of North Carolina piedmont. I’ll fill you in on some other highlights in another post soon. Meanwhile, get out there and enjoy that autumn air while it lasts. Word from the weather seers is that heat and humidity will be returning within 48 hours. But not for long — we hope!
I fell in love with Carolina bays a few decades back during a coastal ecology class. I’m talking about three tree species known as “Carolina bays,” not the geological/ecological entities where they live, which are also quite fascinating.
Most of the North Carolina inner coastal plain is flat, and before settlers drained it extensively, much of it was swampland covered by thick growths of mostly evergreen shrubs and trees that harbored abundant wildlife (slightly drier areas were covered by vast forests of Longleaf Pine). These thick growths of swampy vegetation were considered a hindrance by those who wanted to farm the land, which is why today you only find patches of this native ecotype, mostly in preserves that harbor bears and recently re-introduced red wolves, along with myriad birds and other creatures.
I think the settlers probably called these areas bays, because of the three species of small, evergreen trees that grew among the hollies and other vegetation characteristic of this ecotype. To the casual observer, they look vaguely alike, because they are all small trees, often shrubby in habit, and their leaves are evergreen and aromatic.
Cooks familiar with bay leaves may know they are leaves from the Bay Laurel (Laurel nobilis), a shrubby tree of the Mediterranean region. These aromatic leaves have been used to flavor food for thousands of years. Settlers of the NC coastal plain saw a similarity between the cooking bay they knew and three evergreen tree species of the swampy thickets, so all were named bays: Loblolly Bay (Gordonia lasianthus), Red Bay (Persea borbonia), and Sweet Bay (Magnolia virginiana).
If you crush leaves of these three trees, they smell sweetly spicy; each species smells slightly different, and all were used by the colonists to flavor food. Of the three species, Sweet Bay’s leave are the sweetest, which may be how it got its name. Although, the potently fragrant white flowers of this native magnolia may have also been responsible for that designation.
The natural range of this mostly evergreen (depends on the coldness of the winter) native magnolia extends to the lower, eastern Piedmont region. Twenty-two years ago when I realized part of my yard was a moist floodplain leading into a swamp, I decided to plant some bays. The Red Bay I planted is struggling to hang on; our recent drought years have been hard on it. The Sweet Bay, however, seems to be thriving. It is tall and skinny at about 25 feet high, and it disappears when all the floodplain trees wear their summer foliage.
Winter is when my Sweet Bay Magnolia shines. After I planted mine, I discovered a group of about four growing deeper in the swamp just off our property. These are clearly naturally occurring trees, which likely explains why the one I planted nearby is so happy. Yes, I laughed when I realized that Nature had beaten me to the punch.
My tree blooms in April, and because it’s so tall, I often forget to look for the flowers. But the seed cones are usually still visible by the time I remember to check on it.
However, in the winter landscape, I notice this tree every time I look out my window because of its leaves. The tops of the leaves are a nice deep green, but the undersides are pale silver. The gentlest of breezes lifts Sweet Bay’s leaves enough to show their metallic undersides. And when the barometric pressure changes, my Sweet Bay turns up all its leaves, sending a silver signal to warn me of an impending weather change.
If you’ve got a moist spot in your Piedmont yard, consider adding a Sweet Bay Magnolia. Horticulturalists have developed a number of cultivars that are more refined than the species. Some even have larger, more conspicuous flowers. All tolerate shade and wet roots, and all will flash their leafy silvery undersides at you when the winds make them dance.