insect population balance » The Enchanted Earth

arachnophobics beware

Discoveries, Garden Lessons, Insects, Invasives 34 Responses »

Jul 222010

Apple mint in bloom.

I wanted to put a nicer title on this post. But then I remembered my friend, we’ll call her K., who has a real aversion to spiders. This is not your ordinary insect fear. K. takes it to a whole ‘nother level.

And I didn’t want anyone to be opening up The Enchanted Earth for a nice dose of gentle contact with nature — and end up freaking out, their laptop on the floor, their day potentially a lot worse for it.

I’ve recently discovered that there are readers afraid of moths, butterflies, and even grasshoppers. What will they think of a spider portrait? We all have our challenges, and some of our past conditioning is pretty ingrained. My sister is extremely wary of wasps, and I freeze up at sight of a cockroach.

No matter how cute this little girl is –and she is really, really cute — if looking at her will make you feel the way I do around cockroaches, I say, let’s not do that. If you have any issues with spiders, you are to clear the blog room now. Thank you for visiting. I’m so glad you came. A brand new post will be up tomorrow, and it won’t be insect- or arachnid-related, I promise.

And we will not talk about you behind your back, either. It is safe to vamoose, as my mother would say.

To give everyone a little visual space to get out of here without glimpsing the cuteness (or horror — all is perspective), let me quickly mention that though I have appreciated spiders for a long time, and been fascinated by their intricate webs since childhood, not until I ran the garden with a no-kill philosophy last season did I appreciate them properly. They eat mosquitoes — and don’t ever eat plants. They don’t act as vectors for common crop diseases. (The spider mite, which does transmit pathogens, is not a spider at all.)

Spiders are a gardener’s best friend. I mean that. Especially if you are attempting to garden organically or if you perceive your bit of Earth as part of the larger landscape.

Insect populations really do tend to keep each other in balance, if given the chance. And arachnids and birds are a part of that big picture, too. If your garden is hopping with life and activity, if you don’t spray poisons, especially broad-spectrum insecticides (which affect many more creatures beyond insects, including spiders and human beings) you will invite these creatures to come and participate in their cosmic dance right there among your basil and tomatoes.

Or in this case among the out-of-bounds apple mint that is a favorite of the tiniest winged pollinators. The mint patch* is a bustling social scene all the day long, now that it has opened up its sweetly fragrant inflorescences. If I were a small spider, I might think taking up residence there among the freshness of the apple-minty leaves, surrounded by tiny prey on all sides, was something close to paradise.

Are all the arachnophobics gone now?

Okay. Good.

And now to share the cuteness that is…

*drumroll, please*

… Phoebe** the jumping spider, honorary garden maintenance assistant in the kitchen garden.

I was bent over weeding, and as I straightened, I came face to face with her, hanging out in the mint. How could I not be charmed by those eyes?

I kind of wanted to cuddle her. But I did remind myself that, although most spiders have mouth parts that are unable to pierce human skin, there are a few spiders who manage it anyway, when feeling threatened.

Besides, she was only three-eighths of an inch long. Human cuddling might be perceived as threatening.

Also, I’d have interrupted her at her work. (See the tiny thread she’s got going? It’s just barely visible in the shot.)

I hate to be interrupted when I’m working. Just ask F.

We did exchange a silent namasté, Phoebe and I, short and sweet. It felt good. Almost as good as this one does:

Namasté, y’all.

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*Yes, we went from a mint plant last year to a mint patch this year. I will never plant mint in the ground again. I knew plants in the mint family were overly aggressive, but I naively and arrogantly imagined that I could keep this one apple mint under control — at least until we moved again. Then I’d pot it up and take it with me. Only now I’d need about a dozen pots. Large ones. There’s probably a lesson and a blog post in there somewhere.

** Of course I named Phoebe. I have a habit of naming the creatures with whom I make meaningful or prolonged contact. Anybody remember Thad and Fiona?

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true blue (and red) friend

Blog challenges, Insects No Responses »

Sep 242009

What is it with the bugs this week? First the fire ants, then the designer mystery bug, then the bumblebee with fat knees, then the ladybug-in-a-raincoat bug. I think I ought to belatedly declare this to be insect theme week on Victory Garden Redux.

This little one was afraid of me, unfortunately. After the first flash, she scooted away from me. After the second, I looked up and she’d disappeared. She turned out to be hiding on the underside of the okra leaf. And when I poked my head under there to check on her, she freaked out and flew way over to the remaining tomato plants. I tried to follow discreetly. But she saw me coming and made hell-for-leather for the treeline.

Still, she’s lovely. I would be her true blue friend if she would let me. She was just conscious enough of me and my potential to not give me that chance.

However, I am already her true blue friend, although she doesn’t know it, in that the area under my control does not contain any substances that will harm her. Unless she has a natural predator. In that case, don’t blame me for how Mother Nature constructed this eat-and-be-eaten planet. I can’t quite figure it out, either.

If that part of the plan bothers you a bit, too, I highly recommend a read through Annie Dillard’s A Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. Not that she finds all the answers. Or any of them, really. It’s just that she wrestles with the questions in such a beautiful and poignant way that reading it will actually change you.

(This tiny bit of robin’s egg blue — and it was even more gorgeous in person — was all I could find for Capturing Beauty‘s Rainbow Challenge. Good thing this is the last Blue Thursday in September. I love blue, and yet it never occurred to me until doing this challenge that I planted almost no blue in the Victory Garden — an oversight I’ll have to remedy next year.)

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reaping what I've sown

Foliage, Fruit, Garden Lessons, Insects, Weather No Responses »

Sep 132009

Right after the deluge, I took this photo. A whole branch of cherry tomatoes was ripening basically in the mud. We had not sprayed anything toxic in our garden, so we didn’t have to worry about what might be in that mud, and we could still eat the fruits that landed there — unless the birds got to them first. Birds seem to regard anything that has touched the ground as fair game.

What is most interesting about this photograph to me, as a brand new 100% organic gardener, is not the bright red fruits — although they do gleam like jewels there in that muddy setting; don’t they?

It’s the leaves that draw my attention. The Victory Garden has confirmed the truth of what I’d read from several sources, most recently Steve Solomon: that the insects actually perform a valuable service in the natural world, weeding out the unhealthy plants, and will rarely attack a healthy plant with enough force to damage it — unless the local insect population is out of balance due to monocropping or repeated use of pesticides in the area.

Our tomato plants in this area were already beginning to worry me, even before the cool rains came. My spacing had been a little tight at the beginning of the season. This is because I was overly ambitious and wanted to try too many different kinds of plants for the space I had available. Also, because I have difficulty walking out of a nursery without buying one more tomato plant. (As I mentioned before.)

I forgive myself for that. It was my first real kitchen garden, and I was bound to be enthusiastic and ambitious. It’s in my nature to tackle things with a little too much oomph! at the beginning, and I actually don’t mind that character flaw. I’d much rather go too far toward that end of the spectrum, rather than live my life tilted toward apathy.

Still, there are consequences to the choices made under the influence of my imbalanced character. One is that the tomato plants had basically grown into one another’s space, becoming a wild tangle. A worrisome development, as the plants need air circulation to resist disease.

Add in some rain, a little mud spatter, and let the leaves stay wet and chilled for about four and a half days… and some kind of blight entered the Victory Garden. It may have been there all along, just that the healthy plants were able to fight off any would-be invaders.

Not so after the heavy rains. Sigh.

And within hours, or so it seemed to me, I had major insect damage where before there was almost none. I’m imagining two possible scenarios from the point of view of whatever is chowing down on the tomato leaves.

It’s autumn, and the plants are already slowing production and will soon be gone. Let’s not waste this glorious feast.
These are sick, elderly plants. Mother Nature is urging us to clear the land for new, healthy shoots next season.

Either way, several of the tomato plants are now doomed.

I’m just grateful it took until September for me to reap what I’d sown in planting too close together. There is a learning curve to organic gardening, and you have to be as gentle with yourself as you are with the land. Learn from your mistakes, but don’t beat yourself up about it. (My first two years were disaster!)

I’ll definitely be more wise about tomatoes next year. For one thing, I planted way too many cherry tomato plants. We had far more than we could eat all summer, and I’m just about sick of them. I could go a few months without eating one and not miss them. It sounds crazy, when they are so good, but we’ve got a bowl of them in the kitchen right now that both of us are resolutely avoiding — and many more are sitting on the plants, waiting for me to come out with my little basket and pluck them.

For another thing, 20 tomato plants is too many for 2 people. I’m limiting myself to a half-dozen next year. Well, I’ll try to limit myself, anyway. I haven’t been too skilled at limiting myself in too many areas of life so far. But practice makes perfect; right?

(Today is the start of a new week of Capturing Beauty‘s R-O-Y-G-B-I-V challenge. And that means Red.)

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