Book Notes: The Teeth of the Lion

Not so very long ago I noticed a large-leaved plant growing just in front of the ample bank of lavender that graces the front garden every summer, always very full of bees. What is that? I asked myself. A romaine? For several days after I continued to ponder this question as I sprayed the lavender early in the mornings prior to Bee Time. I’d already made the decision not to pull it up, and relished imagining how it had come to plant itself in the lawn. Did a bird bring it? Birds didn’t generally frequent the lavender, but it was possible. Or a squirrel? I loved considering the possibilities. In any case I wanted to hearken to my own advice, per one of the lessons in Plant Whatever Brings You Joy: “Never pull and discard what you cannot identify.” So there it stood. And grew. And grew. Huh.

Synchronistically the following Tweet caught my eye:

Americans today spend forty billion dollars annually on lawn care, and a hefty part of that budget goes to the attempt to eradicate dandelions.

Wow. Was that possible? Already bearing mixed feelings on the whole Lawn Thing, I followed a link to a piece published in Seattle that sourced the quote being from a book titled The Teeth of the Lion: The Story of the Beloved and Despised Dandelion. Intrigued I ordered a copy.

Meanwhile, while waiting for the book to arrive I began reevaluating the identity of my mystery “lettuce.” Was it possible this was a dandelion?? It certainly bore resemblance to the leaves sported on the cover of the book I was awaiting! Yet, I expected dandelion to look like this:

Now fully engaged in this discovery process, I began watering the little dandelion to see if it might eventually emerge like the “big one.” I didn’t have to wait. One morning I came out and the Big Dandelion flaunted the answer.


Taraxacum officinale
Ha!

Still, I remain puzzled by the discrepancy and am now committed to growing dandelions in my garden especially after reading Anita Sanchez’s splendid book on a very thorough engaging and fascinating look at the history of the dandelion over many many centuries and terrains. What an excellent and invaluable treatise! For who knew that the early pioneers brought dandelions with them as a matter of course for their first gardens and that they were a highly valued medicinal resource, as well as valued as a salad green? Not I. Then Anita enchantingly traces the path of the hearty and determined and opportunistic dandelion seed as it makes its way ever westward in the treads left by the wagons of the pioneers, apparently perfectly designed as a plant to embed itself, lying flat and protected in the mud, emerging under the last snow as one of the first greens. Fascinating!

Dandelion’s first use was recorded in China in the seventh century. In the eleventh century the Arabs promoted its use, and by the sixteenth century it was well established throughout Europe.

Fastforward to modern times that reveal the nutritional value of the common, abundant and unappreciated dandelion:

Dandelions are a vitamin powerhouse: 100 grams of raw dandelion greens have 14,000 international units of Vitamin A, plus 35 milligrams of ascorbic acid, or Vitamin C. That’s more Vitamin C than tomatoes, and seven times the Vitamin A of oranges, pound for pound. In addition, dandelions have significant amounts of protein, iron, thiamine, riboflavin, calcium, and potassium, as well as vitamins D, K, and B-complex.

And we are spending our hard earned money on killing them. So sad.

I want to interject a little side story here. I recently had a chat with an old friend of mine, a rather elderly black man who was raised in Virginia. I told him about my dandelion lesson and he shared with me that when he was a little boy they “never paid for greens.” They went out into the woods and collected all they needed, for free. For seventy plus years ago you could do that in Virginia. What a blessing, gone astray.

The Teeth of the Lion will take you on a journey far beyond what you might expect from a small book about dandelions. By using the simple dandelion as a microcosmic lens Anita Sanchez opens the door to the macrocosmic world of plants in general. As Senior Environmental Educator at the New York Dept. of Environmental Conservation’s Five Rivers Environmental Education Center in New York, she is perfectly poised to take us on this exquisite and unexpected tour of the plant world. It is highly advised.

Enjoy.

Love and garden blessings,
Kathryn xoxox

Footnote! Learned this week: Health food stores and seed companies are selling seeds for “Italiko Rosso dandelion” or “Italiko Rosso chicory”. They are selling the product as a “dandelion.” Again, dandelion is Taraxacum officianale. Italiko Rosso is a chicory and it’s formal name is Cichorium intybus. Duly noted!

Book News: I am so thrilled to report that the Unity Church in Seattle and Boulder Books in Boulder, CO will be making copies of Plant Whatever Brings You Joy available to their customers! Many thanks to their buyers!

If you find this blog of interest I hope you will consider purchasing a copy of Plant Whatever Brings You Joy: Blessed Wisdom from the Garden. Actual books are available at Estrella Catarina. The Kindle version is available in the US, the UK and in Germany in the Kindle store.

Happy Birthday, Thoreau?

“I once had a sparrow alight upon my shoulder for a moment, while I was hoeing in a village garden, and I felt that I was more distinguished by that circumstance that I should have been by any epaulet I could have worn.

~Henry David Thoreau

This story most appropriately is being told the week of Thoreau’s birthday. (He was born July 12, 1817 in Concord, Massachusetts.) Somehow I don’t think it’s a stretch to think he would approve.

So, what, you might be thinking, is that blue photo above? It is, my dearest readers, a Pond Skater. Yes, it is. He appeared some three weeks ago in the middle of the doggie wading pool. Normally that pool is being used thusly:

But with the sudden inexplicable and surprise visit of a pond skater, most doggie activity was curtailed, short of Conner’s occasional slurping of cold water, while I stood by making sure he didn’t drink down Mr. Pond Skater.

Honestly, I was completely bewildered how this tiny creature arrived in the middle of a backyard into a wading pool. Utterly flummoxed. I will never understand how that happened. A surveying of the closest body of water, a creek, offered no answers. None. Bone dry. Truly not a drop of water to explain this appearance. Oh, the need is clear. But the deliverance? I never saw one indication this little bug could fly. So?

The Zen of it was here he was. And being wired as Keen Nature Observer/Her Eye is on the Sparrow/Strong Mother Archetype, I felt kind of honored he’d arrived here, and I felt it was the least I could do to learn what I could and see to his well being. Wouldn’t you? Maybe not.

The first big task arose after a few days when I discovered teeny squiggly things in the water. Thinking first they might be a source of food I was relieved, but shortly realized they were mosquito larvae. Yikes. This entailed going out in the early morning, scooping up the Pond Skater into a big bowl, and setting him aside while I emptied the water into the adjacent garden. Nice. I’ve just refreshed the entire wading pool for a bug.

Next challenge was to be sure he had some food. At first I labored over this, thinking of the cabbage whites that flittered about, whom I’d just paid homage to in my Butterfly Journal post, and was not keen on offering one up to a pond bug. But no sooner had I thought it than a small one seemed to succumb in the wading pool. And that was that. A hover bee followed. I honestly wanted to rescue the hover bee, as I did see him fall in the drink, but before I had long to contemplate the Pond Skater rushed headlong over the water to the poor hover bee and within seconds it was still. I’d read about those pinchers. In the mornings that followed it was not too hard to find an occasional cucumber beetle in the roses or an earwig under a pot to offer to him. But how long is this going on? Hmmm.

Each morning when I went out to throw a ball for the Border Collies, I’d check on the Pond Skater, and he remained happily skating about. I even put a chair next to the wading pool so he’d have some respite from the hot afternoon sun.

But, alongside my generosity and respect and interest grew a voice that said, “Really? A pet bug? Maybe you should take him somewhere.” Where?

This morning inspiration moved me to catch him in a bucket, put him in the car, and head out to a nearby lake. Weird, but appropriate. Surely this is better.

Parked near the water’s edge, I walked out to a stone stairway that led directly into the water. Perfect.

Gently immersing the bucket into the water, I tipped it ever so slowly and out he swam into his huge new home. Wow. As I watched him make his way into the current my attention was immediately taken by three ducks who noticed me at water’s edge. Uh-oh. Maybe I should have thought this through.

I am suddenly realizing that these ducks are all conditioned to think that anyone along the water must be there to feed them. No! No! Go back. By now I cannot see the Pond Skater and have to imagine he’s safely well beyond this group of hungry ducks. Or these, now also wondering what’s afoot. Here they come!

At a certain point after one has done one’s best it is time to let go. Here is where I have left Pond Skater. This is his new home. If he becomes dinner for a duck or fish or bird I will console myself that Pond Skaters have been on the planet Earth for 55 MILLION years. They know what they are doing.

Pond Skater is somewhere out there.

I drive home reflecting on the immediacy of Pond Skater’s reality. He did not enter the large body of water fearful or even processing. He simply accepted what was and responded accordingly. A lesson that would not have escaped the observation of Mr. Henry David Thoreau.

Love and creature blessings,
Kathryn xoxoxo

Footnote: Julie’s comment below regarding what Pond Skaters are called in Ohio (water striders) had me googling Pond Skater to discover his other names, which included water bugs, magic bugs, pond skaters, skaters, skimmers, water scooters, water skaters, water skeeters, water skimmers, water skippers, water spiders, or Jesus bugs! Why, I asked myself, would they be called Jesus bugs? Dawning on me: because they can walk on water! 🙂

Book Notes: If you have enjoyed this post you might want to consider purchasing a copy of Kathryn’s book Plant Whatever Brings You Joy, available on Amazon as a Kindle edition or as a Real Book found at Estrella Catarina. Thank you.

Butterfly Journal Part One


California Sister
This butterfly journal goes back a bit in time to summer before last when the above California Sister (Adelpha californica) showed up on my front doorstep. Somehow the arrival of this extraordinary butterfly marked a turning point in my attention, as up until then while I admired butterflies I knew little of them in actuality. And this would still be true. But I am learning. And this year, in particular, I am researching those that show up in my world. And I love it. Here are the few that I’ve been able to photograph and research a bit. Please join me in my explorations and we shall learn together!

Cabbage White
Apparently the most common butterfly in the country is the Cabbage White (Pieris rapae) and frankly, though sympathetic to those trying to grow large patches of food, specifically those that serve as host plants to the poor Cabbage White (you probably know them: cabbage, obviously, cauliflower, mustards, kale, etc.), I find this simple small white butterfly one of the most charming visitors in my garden. Why? Because they dance and they dance with each other. The word “flutter” was designed perfectly for the Cabbage White. They move so quickly and so erratically, signaling to any would-be predators they are not worth the bother it would take to chase them down, that they are inordinately hard to photograph. After dozens of frames of out of focus butterflies I at last was able to catch the little girl [two spots; males have one] above for a split second on a stand of lavender. She even kindly afforded me two, bless her heart.

Cabbage White
And while you cannot see in this reduced size I will swear to you that in the first photo it appears that she is actually turning her head and sizing me up. I really think that’s what I’m witnessing and it’s quite amazing, actually, to think that might be true.

But about the dancing. What I find most enchanting about the Cabbage Whites is their habit that in encountering another of their kind they immediately engage in a frivolous circular dance around each other, tumbling through space for some few seconds, and then disengaging and going their own way. And they do it all day long. Now I’m certain those in the know would point out to me that this is some kind of male-female interaction that results in birds and bees activity, but to date I’ve only witnessed the joy of the dance and I’m going with that, for that is what I see. Over and over again. And it is beauty. I’ll take it.

Cabbage Whites made their way to America from Europe in about 1860. By 1883 they are recorded in California though apparently it’s not known if they were introduced by the Spanish from the South or if they made their way from New England.

A word to the Cabbage White trolls: I have borne witness to the fact it is possible to grow large quantities of a particular vegetable organically without dumping chemicals on butterflies. How much can they eat? Grow enough for them. Ditto in your own small gardens. Perhaps by introducing nasturtium or other host plants they would opt for that rather than your veges. Just sayin’. Chemicals designed for the Cabbage White take out other beloveds, too. Thank you!

Variable Checkerspot

Once the butterfly bushes opened their beautiful blossoms my garden began attracting the Variable (or Chalcedon) Checkerspot (Euphydras chalcedona) which I had never seen in this garden before. The one above, sadly, was missing one of its four wings. It flew about unminding and landed gently in my large rosemary bush, allowing me this side view. Perfect.

Variable Checkerspot
Happily, a second one came the next day, attracted to the butterfly bush.

Now firmly on their circuit, apparently, a third came and landed in a second butterfly bush and remained perfectly still for at least five minutes, allowing me this view. Notice this one is darker, but I have read there might be some variation in darkness.

Variable Checkerspot

Undoubtedly the most beautiful of all the butterflies who come to my garden are the Western Tiger Swallowtails (Papilio rutulus) and, thankfully, they come daily in abundance. Here are some of my most special moments in their presence. Enjoy!

Western Tiger Swallowtail/See below!


Western Tiger Swallowtail/ditto

Western Tiger Swallowtail/yep

I loved this photo of the underside of just the tail of a Western Tiger Swallowtail. I find myself wondering about its evolutionary design, certain that to some possible predators that tail design would speak to something much larger and possibly more dangerous than the butterfly actually is. Smart!

There have been other butterflies in the garden, mostly skippers and blues. Can I manage yet to photograph them? No. Sadly. But I will rise to the occasion as I learn the nuances of learning to photograph them. I will. And I will share with you as I do.

Looking forward to your comments and hearing of your own butterfly experiences!

Love and winged blessings,
Kathryn xoxo

Important July footnote on the above post, which apparently was not complete! The comment below from Evelyn had me second guessing whether I had correctly ID’d the Western Tiger Swallowtail. I’m now thinking I did not, for two reasons. First, this photo, which I took at least two years ago:

See? Much more yellow. As if this were not enough to convince me the one in my current post is actually a Pale Tiger Swallowtail, a very yellow Western Tiger Swallowtail showed up in my butterfly bush yesterday. She didn’t stay long enough for me to photograph, but I got the point, and thank you for that visit!

Oh, and to fully wrap up this post, at last, a large California Sister Butterfly fluttered through my front garden the other day, quickly exiting and I thought, “Bookends. Nice!”

Book News: Dig-It Magazine will be reviewing Plant Whatever Brings You Joy: Blessed Wisdom from the Garden in their September issue. This week I have been adding some new photos to the slide show at Estrella Catarina. Also, the Kindle version of Plant Whatever Brings You Joy is now available on the German Amazon site! Link added on Estrella Catarina. Do stop by and enjoy! Thank you so much!

9/18/2014: This is for Robbin: Dance of the Tiger Swallowtails

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