ABC Wednesday: Quite a Quercus

This week we have come to the letter Q, not an easy letter to illustrate. Once I thought about it, though, the choice was obvious, and I was so eager to post my entry for Q that I almost posted this last week by mistake. And so, the eagerly awaited Q is for . . .

Quercus Macrocarpa

. . .Otherwise known as the Bur Oak. Regular readers here will recognize this tree as one I've shown on this blog several times, including this past August when, on a lark, I entered it in the "Gardening Olympics" sponsored by Idaho Gardener. To my surprise, it won a gold medal! Medalwinner or not, this is indeed a stately tree that sits at the front of our large yard, shading those who enter our driveway. Its age is unknown, but judging from its size it must be over 100 years old, making it a symbol of the permanence of the land, existing generations before us.


Until recently, I wasn't sure what type of oak it was--I thought it might be a white oak, the state tree of Illinois. But with the help of my friend, a high school biology teacher, I now know that it is a Bur Oak. In trying to identify the trees on our property, I've discovered that studying the leaves alone is not conclusive--you must often also look at the bark, the shape of the twig, and the fruit of the tree.


The Bur Oak's leaves are distinctive from other oaks, with a wide top that narrows at the bottom. But this can still be confusing. The telltale identifier of the Bur Oak, though, is its acorn. The acorn is larger than most other oaks, and its cap extends at least halfway down with a "conspicuous fringe," which accounts for its other name, Mossycup Oak.

According to Wikipedia:

"The acorns are the largest of any North American oak, and are an important wildlife food; American Black Bears sometimes tear off branches to get them. However, heavy nut crops are borne only every few years. In this strategy, known as masting, the large seed crop every few years overwhelms the ability of seed predators to eat the acorns, thus ensuring the survival of some seeds. Other wildlife, such as deer and porcupine, eat the leaves, twigs and bark. Cattle are heavy browsers in some areas. The bur oak is the only known foodplant of Bucculatrix recognita caterpillars."

This must be the year for the large seed crop because it is impossible to walk anywhere in the vicinity of my oak without crunching on hundreds of acorns underfoot. As you can see, some type of wildlife has been eating a few of the acorns--I do hope it's squirrels, though, and not black bears!

The Bur Oak is a common tree in the Midwest, extending as far west as the Rockies and even as far south as Texas. It is billed as an excellent tree for urban planting because of its dense shade and resistance to air pollution and heat stress. Of course, it's not a tree you would plant for immediate shade--it is one of the slowest growing trees. But it makes up for this in size and in longevity. The Bur Oak can grow as tall as 70-80 feet, and as it ages it spreads horizontally, with a possible canopy of 80 feet or more in width. I have no idea how tall my tree is, but I did measure its circumference 4 feet above its base--it is about 17 feet around, give or take a few inches due to my tripping on the acorns underfoot. Because it can live for 200-300 years or more, it is a tree to plant for posterity.

This oak is not as showy in the fall as some of its more colorful relatives like the Pin Oak or the Red Oak. But as I showed on last week's post, it did surprise me this year with its bronze foliage. And while my showy maple is slowly losing all its leaves, many of the oak leaves are clinging tenaciously to their branches. They may be the last leaves to fall this autumn.

I was excited when I learned my tree was a Bur Oak, because near the place where I grew up there is a small area of virgin woods that we called the Bur Oak. At one time a nearby one-room schoolhouse was named Bur Oak after these woods. I like to imagine my ancestors seeing these magnificent trees when they settled in the area in the 1870's. The Bur Oaks may have been old trees even then! But after I googled Bur Oak, I discovered we don't own the copyright to this name, sometimes spelled Burr Oak. There are towns in Kansas and Michigan called Bur Oak, not to mention schools, parks, and even bed and breakfasts. Other settlers, including the pioneers heading West, found the Bur Oak a useful tree not only for shade, but for its extremely strong wood. According to the Arbor Day Foundation, the tree "came to the rescue of unfortunate travelers who needed new wagon tongues, wheels hubs, or spokes." Another interesting bit of trivia from the same site is that Sioux City, Iowa is the "location of the Council Oak, so named because Lewis and Clark held council with the Native Americans under its already 150 year old branches."

I may not be able to claim the Quercus Macrocarpa as unique to Illinois--in fact, it is the state tree of Iowa--but I can admire its rich heritage and its quiet beauty. It has earned the name "Mighty Oak."

For in the true nature of things, if we rightly consider,
every green tree is far more glorious
than if it were made of gold and silver.
--Martin Luther

ABC Wednesday is brought to you by Mrs. Nesbitt; other posts can be found at the ABC Anthology.

End of Season Annual Review

Brrrr, it's cold! It's been between 35-39 degrees (2-4 C) all weekend with a brisk wind and overcast skies. In January or February I will probably consider this a mild day, but after the last week of Indian Summer, this feels like winter to me! I still have a few bulbs to plant and some other gardening chores I'd like to finish this fall, but today is a day for staying inside, snuggling under warm blankets with a good book to read, not freezing my hands while digging in the dirt.*

It is a good day, however, for assessing some of the summer's successes and failures while they are still fresh in my mind. The gardening journal I dutifully started last spring has had sporadic entries once gardening season got into full swing. I'm hoping some of my blog posts will help me remember next year what I planted and when it bloomed. One of the topics I wanted to note in my journal were the annuals I planted and how they turned out this summer. So today it's final exam time for the annuals:

My favorite annual this year had to be the large zinnias I planted. I've shown you these several times before--with much better pictures--so I won't dwell on them too much. Originally, they were supposed to be a temporary border at the back of the new roadside garden expansion. I couldn't make up my mind what type of perennial to plant behind the gaillardia, and I had already spent so much money on plants this year that I thought they might work for a "filler" for this year. However, I was so pleased with their bright colors and long bloom time that I plan to plant them in the same spot next year. Besides, a couple dollars on seed vs. $40 or more on perennials sounds like a winner to me!

Final Grade: A+

The gaillardia "Oranges and Lemons" were the only perennials I knew I wanted to plant in this area, so everything else had to work around them. I decided again to use an annual this year for a front border for them, choosing these white Profusion zinnias. I bought these near the end of the spring season, and the only whites I could find looked like they were on their last legs. I planted them anyway, gave them a good drink of water, and to my surprise they did take off, spreading, as I had hoped, to form a mass of white blooms edging this part of the garden. I only wish I had a better picture--especially one without weeds--but I think I was focused on capturing a butterfly photo when I took this, not the flowers. These bloomed continuously until the first frost and will also be planted in this flowerbed next year, with a note to self to buy them earlier in the spring.

Final Grade: A

Here's an "oldie but goodie" that I have also shown many times here. The salvia "Victoria Blue" was planted once again in the original roadside flowerbed as well as beside the large landscaping rocks bordering our driveway. Placed behind the daylilies, they begin to bloom once the daylilies start to fade and make a nice complement to the pink of the coneflowers behind them. I took this photo just this past week, while cleaning up the dead zinnias from this area, so you can see that they bloom right up until a hard frost. Definitely a keeper.

Final Grade: A (Six years in a row...)

I also planted a double purple supertunia in the center of this flowerbed, but forgot to take a picture of it--oops. I planted it in front of a basket turned on its side, with the idea that it would look as if it was spilling out of the basket. The petunia did well and is, in fact, still blooming, but I need to remember to raise the soil a little more at this point so that it is more prominent and "spills" more from the basket.

Final Grade: A-

Our front porch--where I like to sit in the early morning with my coffee--has a built-in planter that I love. Every year I seem to plant the same flowers--geraniums and petunias in shades of pink and purple--and every year I am a little disappointed with the results and vow to change it the following year. But, of course, being a creature of habit, I found myself planting the same flowers this year with a couple new tweaks. These petunias were ordered from one of those cheaper mail order companies. They were called simply "waterfall petunias," and the photos in the catalog showed mounds of petunias cascading over a rock wall. I was a little skeptical, even more so when the plants arrived--tiny little 3" seedlings with no blooms. They certainly didn't produce the showy mounds that were pictured, and they were all violet instead of the three varieties promised, but this one plant especially did surprise me in how it grew. I'm sure this is some variety of Wave petunia, but it certainly cascaded more than any other Wave or Supertunia I've planted before. I'll try it again next year.

Final Grade: B+

The rest of the planter was filled with the pink zonal geraniums I just can't resist and double purple Supertunias. Both did much better than last year, which was a dismal failure, but that was probably due to better care than the plants themselves. This past spring I dug out all the dirt from this planter and replaced it with a good quality potting soil instead of the cheap bags sitting out in the Walmart parking lot--definitely worth the extra money! I also think in the past I didn't water this planter deeply enough. It sits under the roof overhang, so it rarely gets any rain water; this year I made sure to water it more frequently and more thoroughly.

Zonal Geranium's Final Grade: A (over protestations that it is teacher's pet)

Supertunia's Final Grade: B

As an afterthought, I also stuck in one sweet potato vine, "Marguerite." I miscalculated how many of these I needed for containers, so I thought I'd try the extra one in the porch planter. It grew and grew--almost too much. I liked the cascading effect over the wall, but it made the planter look off balance. I'll rethink this whole planting next year, perhaps using two of the variegated sweet potato vines instead and something other than the purple petunias which just kind of "sat there."

Final Grade: B+

Aside from the zinnias, the biggest pleasant surprise this year was this verbena "Homestead Purple." I have planted verbena next to my large rocks before, but never this variety. The Homestead spread outwards and upwards and tolerated drought and excessive rain. It is still blooming in this chilly weather. I have tried and tried to take a photo that showed the whole plant to its advantage, but no matter the time of day or the cloud cover, the flowers never show their true color. The blossoms are actually much darker than this, but not a deep purple.

For the past couple weeks, though, I've had some surprises here--blossoms of pink top part of the Homestead Purple.

And next to those are red blossoms! I have no idea what's going on here--a mutant plant? Whatever the color, this plant is a stalwart and will definitely be purchased again next year, if it doesn't survive the winter. I've seen it on other blog posts--is it a perennial in warmer zones?

Final Grade: A

(Just a note about the grading system--I had a reputation as being a tough "grader" when I was teaching. I didn't "hand out" A's easily, so these annuals have earned their high marks.)

As you can see, I didn't plant too many annuals this year outside of my containers, which will be the topic of another, later post. My original intention for most of my flowerbeds was to fill them with perennials so that one day, when I am really, really old and the knees are too bad to kneel down and plant flowers, I can look out at my garden and enjoy all the beauty without having to lift a finger. Yes, yes, I know that is wishful thinking, but the first flowerbed I planted here has already filled in with perennials to the point of overflowing, in fact. This was the first year I didn't need to add any annuals to fill in bare spots there. Well, actually I did plant some sweet alyssum as a border in this bed, as I usually do. I purposely left it out here because I wanted to save it for this Friday's Bloom Day post-- it may be the only flower I have left blooming!

*Late update: After writing most of this post this morning, I changed my mind this afternoon and did plant some extra bulbs at my son's house. It was the only time Granddaughter, age 5, could help. She's the one who admires Grandma's flowers and loves to hunt for baby toads and praying mantises in my garden. She's quite a little gardener and brought out her own pink trowel and rake to help me. With our hooded winter coats and gardening gloves on, we managed to avoid frostbite and were treated to hot chocolate by her Mommy afterwards!

ABC Wednesday: Minding My P's and Q's

I enjoy participating in the ABC Wednesday meme when I can think of an idea, usually related to gardening. I was going to skip this week, though . . .I mean, what flower starts with Q?? And then it hit me! I had the perfect topic! I spent part of the last two days photographing my subject from various angles and doing a little research on the topic.

And then I realized . . .Q doesn't come after O . . . the next letter is P! Drat! Time to bring out Plan B . . .

Last Saturday was the first of the month, which means in garden blogging land, it's Garden Muse Day, sponsored by Carolyn Gail, when many gardeners post an appropriate poem for the season. I found a suitable poem, though it wasn't anything famous or particularly literary, but VP at Veg Plotting posted a poem just perfect for November by one of my favorite poets, "Nothing Gold Can Stay" by Robert Frost. The sentiments of that poem stayed with me as I read Gail's post on Monday about the gold and yellow colors in her garden this November. Both of them inspired me to take a second look around my own surroundings where I noticed more golden colors of autumn than were apparent last week.

At the risk of being accused of Plagiarism, I'd like to share some similar golden views.

In my last post I showed some of the fall color in my garden, including the honey locust trees whose leaves were beginning to turn from green to yellow. This week they are dressed completely in a magnificent yellow.

"Nature's first green is gold/Her hardest hue to hold..."

I will enjoy this lovely show of gold as long as it lasts, for we know that soon these leaves will drop with the inevitable rains and winds of November.

Another correction from my last post--I said that the old oak tree wasn't especially colorful in the fall and that its leaves merely turned brown and fell. Not so! This week the leaves have turned to bronze. Its leaves are still clinging to the branches, providing shade across the front lawn as it has all summer, but now its burnished gold provides some light at the end of the driveway as well.

Across the road, the neighbor's trees are all decked out in yellow and gold, too.

"Her leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf."

In the shade garden the hosta leaves have all started to turn yellow, a sign that it's time for their long winter's nap.

The Pumpkin that my daughter carved into a Jack o'lantern looked great on Halloween. But after too many hours of candle burning, its face is beginning to sag and collapse upon itself.

Winter seems far away despite the falling leaves and wilting garden. We have had beautiful weather for the past week, almost summer-like. But the bees and the butterflies that inhabited my garden all summer long left at the first frost the week before. One visitor apparently didn't get the message of impending cold.

"...Nothing gold can stay."

My husband spotted this Praying Mantis one morning last week on the screen of his bathroom window. Oh, I will miss you, my strange little friends! See you next summer...

Fall is also the time to Preserve the bounty of the harvest. This year has been an exceptional year for apples; my two trees produced more than we could eat. I have made nearly every apple dessert I could think of and have put apple slices and a lot of applesauce into the freezer. This was my first attempt at making apple butter, and it turned out quite well, if I do say so myself.

The beautiful weather this past week has been perfect for Planting bulbs. I was overtaken last spring by tulip envy and got a little carried away in buying bulbs--nearly 300 tulips, daffodils, crocuses, and hyacinths! Thank goodness I had a little help: my daughters bought me this auger attachment for the cordless drill pictured above. I think it is one of those gadgets advertised on TV, and it's touted as making weeding a painless, easy procedure. I didn't find it very useful in weeding--if you're not careful, a perfectly nice flower can get entangled in it--but I thought I'd try it out in planting bulbs. Once you've drilled a hole, there is still some scooping out of the dirt to do, but it saved me from getting up and down so often, not to mention avoiding carpal tunnel syndrome from the bulb planter!

Besides planting bulbs, this is the time of year to Prepare the garden for winter, including adding some mulch. Mother Nature obliged by blowing most of the leaves into my flower beds. Little Snow Bunny looks all snuggled down for a winter's nap, doesn't he?

Today, though, the big news all across the United States is that we have a new President. There is the Promise of change and a brighter tomorrow. I wish him all the success in the world.


ABC Wednesday is brought to you each week by Mrs. Nesbitt and can also be seen at the ABC Anthology . . . um, next week is Q, right?

November Muse Day: Fall Color

Leaves

"How silently they tumble down
And come to rest upon the ground
To lay a carpet, rich and rare,
Beneath the trees without a care,
Content to sleep, their work well done,
Colors gleaming in the sun.

At other times, they wildly fly
Until they nearly reach the sky.
Twisting, turning through the air
Till all the trees stand stark and bare.
Exhausted, drop to earth below
To wait, like children, for the snow."
- Elsie N. Brady

Garden Muse Day is sponsored the first of each month by Carolyn Gail at Sweet Home and Garden Chicago. Visit her for more poetry about gardening today.

November always seems to me to be a wildly unpredictable month. Often times it is cold and rainy, other times the sun shines brightly through the newly bare trees. Many years the first snowfall has appeared by the end of the month. But right now as the new month opens, we have beautiful weather with the promise of warm temperatures for several more days. It is the perfect time to enjoy the last of the season's bright colors.

In early October I read about the Fall Color Project sponsored by Dave at the Home Garden to track the peak fall color around the country. I thought it sounded like a great idea and decided to participate. So for the last two weeks I have been snapping photos of the trees and colorful foliage in my yard, while waiting for the color to peak. The problem, though, was that while I waited for the maple tree to slowly turn completely orange, other trees had put on their autumn colors or none at all and then lost their leaves! Like Cindy at Walk Down the Garden Path, I think the peak has already past, so it is high time I show what colors we have had here in central Illinois. Unless otherwise noted, all photos are from my yard.

The pink and red flowering crabapples were the first to lose their leaves--in early September. But two weeks ago as I began observing the trees in detail for good photos, I spotted a few pink flutters in one of the trees.

Moving in for a closer look, I saw this pink blossom in mid-October! I wonder if the summer-like weather we had for much of October confused them into thinking it was spring again.

The white crabapple became my favorite this summer with its canopy of white blossoms lasting into June. It was the favorite spot for the birds, too, especially a pair of cardinals, who probably had a nest here, judging by their actions.

You can see the tree still has half its leaves, but what a show of berries! I have never seen this crabapple as loaded with its small fruit as this year. Wouldn't it be nice if they stayed here till Christmas?

One goal I had this summer was to identify all the trees in my yard. I discovered, though, that identifying a tree is not as simple as looking at just the leaves and finding them in a tree identification book. One must look at the bark, the shape of the twigs, the buds, and the fruit to make a positive i.d. Consequently, I still have some "mystery" trees. The tree below is not a mystery, but was a surprise to me--I didn't realize we had a second oak tree. It's not nearly as old as the big oak at the front of the yard--it's tall, but not very large in circumference.

While some oaks put on quite a show of color in the fall, mine don't. The photo above looks deceiving. Although it appears many of the leaves have turned yellow, in reality the sun is illuminating the green leaves. Clicking on the photo to enlarge it may give you a truer picture.

Both oak trees are still full of green leaves. The leaves don't turn yellow or even red, but gradually wither to a brown and fall off. Beautiful all the rest of the year, these are not fall showstoppers.

I think this tree above is a honey locust. We have a few of these in our yard as well; their leaves turn yellow before dropping to the ground.

Near the roadside is what is probably the second oldest tree on our property, which my husband identified as a hackberry. Not a particularly shapely tree, it did put on a show of bright yellow, which I had trouble capturing in a photo.

Here is my true mystery tree. I think it is a variety of ash, but I'm not sure. This picture was taken two weeks ago as its leaves began to turn to a dull reddish mauve. I waited for it to reach its peak color, but last Sunday strong winds came, and poof!--all the leaves were gone!

Sometimes it pays not to wait too long. At least I do have a good view of the main color in our yard--the bright maple behind it. The reason I'm still not sure about identifying this tree as an ash is because of what you can spot higher up in the branches, as seen below.

Small fuzzy brown "berries" hang from the higher branches and are still clinging, even now that the leaves have blown away. They are not nuts, but look like clusters of tiny pinecones. My tree book doesn't show anything like this for any of the ash trees. Any ideas on what type of tree it might be?

This tree, though, I am pretty certain is an ash. Located in the center of the front yard, its darker color adds some balance to the bright maple on the other side.

Two weeks ago the leaves were beginning to turn to a burgundy, and this week they were at their peak, as seen below.

I took this photo just after sunrise, so the sun is playing tricks again in the photo, but trust me, they are a lovely shade of dark burgundy.

Of course, the most magnificent specimen of color in my yard this fall is the maple tree. I've already shown it in earlier posts, and you can see it hiding behind the "ash" in some of the photos above. It was interesting to watch this fall, as the leaves slowly turned, starting from the top of the tree and moving downward a little each day. I think it is at its peak now--the leaves that haven't turned a gorgeous shade of orange, red, or yellow are now a bright chartruese instead of green.

I had hoped to take a drive some time in the last two weeks to catch some of the fall color show in our area, but a few days of work, another round of the virus I had in September, and other commitments kept me too busy or too tired to take some time off. (And I have been a woman on a mission--planting all those bulbs I bought!) Yesterday, Beckie and I did take a drive to Springfield, about an hour and half drive from here, but we were on our way to see a specialist about her mysterious rash (hopefully, she will have some better news to share with you soon). We could only admire the trees as we sped down the highway, but it was obvious from the many bare trees we saw that the peak of color has indeed passed.

We did notice this bright chartreuse maple at a rest area, though.

And, parking at the doctor's office, a row of bright reddish orange shrubs filled with berries lined the sidewalk. We weren't sure--are these viburnum? These berries were as large as grapes!

As I started to plan this post on Thursday, I decided I really needed some photos besides those of my yard. I didn't have time for a "real" drive, but thought I would take the long way home after some errands to try to find some broader views of color. I eventually found myself near Brownfield Woods, a preserve of native trees on the outskirts of Urbana, Illinois. The first photo of this post and the last one were both taken there. As you can see, while we have some spectacular specimens of color, the panoramic views are not as colorful. Perhaps it is the species of trees or perhaps because it was so warm here for so long, many of the trees have stayed green instead of turning.

I enjoyed the views of the woods, nevertheless, and found myself humming "Country Roads, take me home..." as I downloaded these two photos. Very appropriate, too, as I wound up getting lost in the country only 20 minutes from home! Although I eventually found my way, I realized an important rule for drivers: Don't get so entranced by the beautiful trees that you lose sight of the road you are on!

The true meaning of life is to plant trees,
under whose shade you do not expect to sit.
-Nelson Henderson

ABC Wednesday: "Beary" Proud Grandma

This week we have come to the letter O, which logically for me, and for the season, should be Oak tree, but I am saving that for a later post on fall foliage. Instead, the letter O stands for an accomplishment . . .

. . .Obedience School Graduation!

That's right--little Bear, my youngest Granddog---er, Grandson, as Daughter prefers I call him-- successfully completed his first puppy school course and passed with flying colors. No, that is not Daughter in the photo, and I apologize for the quality of the picture; I imagine she took it with her camera phone. Daughter was very proud of her "son's" accomplishment and immediately e-mailed the photo to Grandma. Daughter, who has no human children, is a little sensitive about family dynamics and continually reminds me that I should treat all my grandchildren the same, regardless of their species. So I thought it was only fair that since my last post featured my human grandchildren, I should give equal time to one of my canine grands.

In case you don't recognize the facial features, Bear is a Mastiff puppy. Did I mention he is only 5 months old?

I haven't had a chance to see him in person yet, but I will be visiting Daughter and her family in Arizona in early December. I'm looking forward to taking Bear for walks, so I do hope the obedience school training included being led on a leash. The last time I visited her, her pug Odie was so happy to see me that he slept on the air mattress with me every night. This time I will have my own room with a queen size bed! But I am a little concerned now--today Daughter called me today for advice on dog food--apparently Bear is having a little problem with indigestion and flatulence. The bed may not be big enough for the three of us . . .

More ABC Wednesday posts can be seen by visiting Mrs. Nesbitt's Place or the no-comment blog ABC Anthology.

In Search of the Perfect Pumpkin

Halloween has never been a favorite holiday of mine. (Please don't tell Joy I said that!) The problem with Halloween is that it falls at the end of October, a time when I used to be extremely busy. It was end of the quarter time at school, so I would be frantically grading papers and averaging grades while trying to figure out costumes for my kids' big school Halloween party. As they outgrew the costume party, football games and activities were added, then when the girls became teenagers, it was volleyball season. All in all, it was all I could do to buy enough candy for the hordes of trick or treaters that would come to our house each Halloween.

Now, of course, all that has changed--there are no papers to grade any more and no children here needing volleyball or football uniforms cleaned or last minute costumes to put together. Living out in the country now, we don't even have any trick or treaters (other than the grandchildren), so I have to be careful not to be too tempted by sales of Halloween candy.

One tradition I did enjoy, though, was our annual trek to the "Pumpkin Patch" for pumpkins for jack o' lanterns and decorations. When the kids were young, we used to go to a pumpkin field about 10 miles away and pull a wagon through the fields, searching for the perfect pumpkins. But children grow up, and eventually the prospect of trudging through muddy fields and rejecting misshapen or moldy pumpkins no longer interested them. When the grandchildren came along, we revived the tradition occasionally, enjoying their child-like wonder at fields full of giant orange globes.

A few weeks ago, I decided taking all the grandchildren to find pumpkins would be the perfect cure for a brief case of the blues. (It was the day after the Cubs had finished their abysmal showing in the playoffs and had broken my heart once again.) It was a warm Sunday afternoon, one of those days that seems like a distant memory now. I decided to go to Curtis Orchard, which is on the outskirts of Champaign. Some years ago, the Curtis family purchased what had been a pig farm and planted apple orchards. (I'm sure the developers of the upscale subdivisions nearby are thankful they didn't want to raise more pigs!) Over time, they added pumpkin fields, a small general store, a cafe, and many children's activities. It has become a popular attraction for the locals, not only for delicious apples and fresh doughnuts, but also as a great place to take the kids on a fall afternoon.

Fortunately, both daughters-in-law and one son decided to accompany me, because otherwise Grandma surely would have lost one child before the afternoon was over! It seemed as though every parent within a 30-mile radius had decided this was the perfect place to spend the afternoon, too. I had come for pumpkins, yes, but I also wanted to just spend time with the grandchildren, and I knew they would want to enjoy the different activities first.

Yes, I know you can't see Granddaughter's face, but that is on purpose--I hope you understand.

The pony ride was the first stop. The three little ones picked their ponies, and we adults guiltily helped them on. I know these ponies are well-cared for, but I can't help feeling sorry for them spending their afternoon going round and round in circles.

Jumping out of a mini-"hayloft," a maze, a bouncy house, and face painting were just a few of the activities they enjoyed. The kids did pause long enough so that Grandma could take their photo together.

Wait--I have 5 grandchildren--where is Grandson #1?

Oh there he is--sliding down the inflatable slide. Even the youngest, who's one, enjoyed this slide--riding down on his Daddy's lap, of course. We also took a wagon ride through the orchard as our driver explained the history of the farm and the different varieties of apples available. Of course, I was in grandkids-photo-taking mode, so I didn't think to take any photos of this.

After two hours of running from one activity to another and being bitten by those pesky pirate bugs which were thick around all the apples, the kids were too tired to trudge out to the pumpkin patch for pumpkins. The orchard does offer already picked pumpkins and gourds for sale, but the lines were very long, so in the end I went home empty-handed. But, of course, we did have fun, and my mood was elevated considerably.

Later I heard about a farm not too far from here that raises pumpkins, and decided last Monday that Grandson #2, who's four, might enjoy a little trip with Grandma. When we arrived at the farm, we were disappointed to find that the only pumpkins they had left were enormous. As I explained to Grandson, "If Grandma can't even lift the pumpkin, then it's too big!" Apparently, news of this pumpkin farm had spread, and business had been booming since the first of October.

The afternoon wasn't a total loss, though, as I bought some gourds and mini pumpkins at a very reasonable price. Grandson was intrigued by the Indian corn, so I bought some for him to give to his mother, but when he wanted some corn stalks, I had to explain that Grandma already had plenty of those at home ready to be picked! This was a "real" farm, so he also had a chance to see the cows, pigs, and some goats.

He was satisfied even if we didn't buy any large pumpkins. And Grandma, well...when I picked him up from daycare, he ran to me, shouting "Grandma!" and gave me a big hug. When your time together starts like that, nothing else really matters, does it?

Time was running out. So where did we finally find our "perfect pumkins"? . . . At the local Meijer's! They may not be "farm-fresh", but the "thrill of the hunt" was the best part anyway.

No frost on the pumpkins yet, but it is supposed to get below freezing tonight, so it is only a matter of time.

Woolly Prognosticaters: Winter is Coming

. . . Eventually. Right now on these crisp fall days it is hard to think of winter. The trees are beginning to turn: the hackberry is a luminous yellow-gold, the ashes are shades of gold, orange, and rust, and the maple leaves are changing in a downward progress to a bright orange. While the oaks are dropping a few leaves--and lots of acorns--they are still green for the most part. Occasional gusts of wind have scattered leaves across my front lawn. Temperatures have finally dropped to seasonal 60's during the day and low 40's at night, but this has truly been a magnificent fall.

Yet we know that winter is inevitable. I was reminded of this a few weeks ago during a very warm spell when I spotted this little guy clinging to the porch wall.


"Oh no," I thought, "he's black!" Why should I worry about his color? It's simple--around here anyone would tell you that the color of the common woolly worm is a sign of what type of winter we are going to have. A light colored woolly worm indicates a mild winter; darker colors signify varying degrees of a harsh, cold winter. A black woolly worm, obviously, is not a good sign!

I thought the belief in woolly worm prognostication might be a Midwest legend, but I discovered yesterday that it is more widespread. Woolly worm festivals are held throughout the United States, according to a news article by a local County Extension advisor. This advisor writes a weekly column in our local paper every Saturday, and it seems she anticipates every gardening and nature question I have: she was the one who identified and explained those pesky pirate bugs that appeared out of nowhere a few weeks ago as well as the origin of the equally pesky Asian Lady beetles. This week's column was all about woolly worms, saving me from having to do any other research for this post. (Thanks, Ms. Mason!)

I learned that "woolly bears," as they are also sometimes called, are actually the caterpillars of different species of tiger moths. In central Illinois, "the most common and most famous is the banded woolly bear with its bands of red and black hairs. " Woolly worms are actually present all summer long, but we don't usually notice them until fall. Often times a "herd" of them can be seen crossing the road en masse.

Question: Why did the woolly worm cross the road?

Answer: To find a warm place to spend the winter under leaves and bark.

No, that wasn't a joke; it's a scientific explanation. Unlike other butterflies or moths, the woolly worm spends the winter as a caterpillar; when spring comes, it feeds for a short time, then pupates, and emerges a few weeks later as a tiger moth.

I have no idea how the legend of the woolly worm as a weather predictor came about, but I did learn from this article that the color of the woolly worm has more to do with the severity of the past winter than the winter to come. As woolly worms age, they molt, becoming lighter in color. So in reality the black woolly worm I spotted above was probably just a youngster.

The problem in forming forecasts based on woolly worms is that you might spot caterpillars of different colors. A week or so after spotting my first black one I spotted this lighter orange one feasting in the garden. Since then I have seen only a few caterpillars, ranging in color from black to a light cream.


So how do you know which woolly worm to believe? If you live in central Illinois, you can tune to the local television station and get the "Woolly Worm Forecast." Weatherperson Judy Fraser gathers information from a number of area volunteer "woolly worm reporters" and bases her annual prediction on their sightings. This year's report found that 60% of local woolly worms were black or dark brown, 30% were white, and 10% were multi-colored. Her conclusion? Based on the high percentage of dark caterpillars, this winter will be "cold and snowy."

Of course, Judy depends on more scientific methods of weather predictions, but she did say that the woolly worm forecast has been 75% accurate in the past. This is not the only method she uses in long-range forecasts, though: another popular method is looking at persimmons. I don't remember this method as well, although I think it has something to do with the size and shape of the persimmon seeds.

As for me, since I don't have any persimmon trees, I'm going to have to depend on the woolly worms for my winter preparations. Right now I am going to enjoy this beautiful autumn weather for as long as it lasts, but I might just go out and buy a new snow shovel before the rush hits!