There Were No Fences

Red Buckeye - Aesculus pavia  Last July, I wrote about the importance of sunlight and my hope that I had planted my small woodland properly to get the most out of it. As I sit here today, it looks like I have done pretty well. My once-small red buckeye is in full bloom. Last summer it went deciduous at a time that seemed far too soon, but that has happened to me before. Red buckeye abhors the intense sunlight of summer. It is a deciduous tree and it grows in the understory of deciduous woodlands. Given too much sunlight in summer and early fall, it will shed its leaves and revert back to its winter look - a bunch of stout bare stems. I planted several nearly 30 years ago in a native plant demonstration landscape at the Pinellas County Cooperative Extension office not fully understanding this. The woodland I planted consisted of 3- and 7-gallon canopy trees and I planned them to someday provide some protection for the red buckeyes I planted adjacent to them. Each year, before the canop

Love  As I write this post today, I find myself in love once again. Love has always been a powerful emotion to me, as it is I suspect with everyone susceptible to it. As I sit here contemplating its hold on me, I realize that we too-often discount its real meaning in life. On days like this, folks outside a relationship dismiss it and folks who have lost one ridicule it - like it is love's fault somehow. Perhaps we define it too narrowly or misunderstand what it really gives us. When we define love as something between two individuals/ a pet/ even a possession, we minimize the scope of what love entails. As I wander my new landscape or simply sit outside and watch the life that now lives around me, I have a better understanding of love, I believe. I realize that real love exceeds the simple two-person/ thing relationship and that it encompasses a much broader outlook on life as a whole. It is love that draws us to the earth and the creatures/plants/natural beauty that share this li

Grackles - Bird Feeder February 2021 As humans, we often put labels on things like birds. We tend to love those that are colorful and demure while admonishing those that are drab and aggressive. At my new home, I feed everyone including those that are often considered to be "trash" birds. I have to admit that when a large group of grackles - both common and boat-tailed, descend on my feeder, I pause for a moment and do my best to remember that such labels are unwarranted.  Our labels are anthropocentric. Life is deserving of our empathy no matter how it is manifested. The grackles, fish crows and red-winged blackbirds that consume so much of my feed each day are every bit as entitled to it as the tufted titmice, cardinals, and woodpeckers. Nature doesn't label them as good and bad. We do that and it is wrong. I'll admit that I begrudge the nonnative species - the starlings and ring-necked doves, but they are part of the living landscape now and they are here in my nei

Frost Red Buckeye - Aesculus pavia Today is a cold day here where I live. The high is not expected to go much above 50 degrees F and the low will be in the 30's. It's been an unusually cold winter here compared to recent ones and it is not pleasant to be working in my landscape. For many, this is cause for consternation. Folks on social media are bemoaning these chilly temperatures and wondering how best to protect their plants. Call me callous, but I am appreciating this winter. In my native plant landscape, my plants will do just fine. In fact, I'm expecting a spectacular spring. My plants respond that way to these chilly days and nights. In a native plant landscape, designed with plants adapted to your growing conditions, cold is most often a stimulus and not a detriment. This is especially true for my natives that originate from north Florida. This fall, they actually changed color and lost their leaves the way they are supposed to. In a warm fall and early winter, my d