Trouble with Tomatoes

Back in my previous life in Georgia, I was a pretty decent gardener. Corn, cabbages, squash, zucchini, all manner of "greens," lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, okra, broccoli, and too many snow peas all flourished until the heat and stink bugs of July became too much. I canned, froze, and pickled all summer, and with the aid of cold frames, we had fresh lettuce and "greens" throughout the winter. About the only vegetables we bought were onions and garlic. It was wonderful to wander out to the garden on a hot afternoon and eat warm cherry tomatoes off the vine!

First Cherry Tomato of the Season

In the nearly 30 years I have been back in south Florida, I have yet to grow a decent tomato. It can be done. Neighbors across the street do it. They're "real" tomatoes, red, juicy and flavorful, because I've tasted them. (I have nice neighbors who share). I've never tried very hard, which might be one reason for my lack of success!

Here, the sand we so wistfully call "soil" does not retain water. You can be flooded on Monday and parched by Thursday, especially if it gets windy, and here practically on the Gulf, it is windy a lot. In their article "Unique Challenges for Florida Growers in Tomato and Pepper Production" G. McAvoy and M. Ozores -Hampton called Florida soil in general "merely a media (sic) to hold plants...". Heavy rainfall and high temperatures also mean that our sand doesn't retain nutrients either. In the same article the authors state that in some Florida soils, "there is nothing to bind minerals to what are basically miniature glass beads." Add root-knot nematodes to the mix, and it's obvious that you can't simply dig up a plot in the back yard and go to town.

Raised beds with lots of organic material and some bags of planting soil are the way to go, but somehow I haven't found the time. Hmmm... in 30 years? I've had minimal success growing tomatoes in pots, but this year I decided to try again. I bought good potting soil and composted manure, and planted my bought tomato starts in large pots.

I must have overdone the manure, because the plants almost died at first, but they recovered and bloomed. I was watching one large tomato swell and ripen - it was beginning to glow with promise, especially on one side. Then something - the grackles are my main suspects - pecked/ate a big hole in one side! Muttering and swearing, I  picked it and cut the offending half off.

The "Good" Side

I used the "good" side in a sauce I made - mainly to add bulk and moisture, because in its unripened state, there wasn't much flavor to be had. Actually, it had about as much flavor as many tomatoes I have bought from supermarkets over the years. 

My truly sad-looking cherry tomato plant pushed out a few berries on a languishing stem. I brought this plant into the screened patio to protect it from birds. As for the big flavor test - They were red inside - that's something, and they sort of tasted like a tomato should, but there was no explosion of flavor in the mouth. They also had tough skins. I read that that can be a reaction to too much sun, so I've moved the pot to a shadier spot back out in the yard. I'm hoping new growth will flower and set fruit before it gets too hot. The plant that produced the first tomato produced some small new fruits, so I brought it into the patio as soon as I noticed any color. Now it is a matter of waiting to see what happens.

Surviving Branch

Thirty odd years ago we were following a huge trailer loaded with green tomatoes in Homestead, Florida. They were piled so high that a bunch rolled off every time the truck hit a dip or hump in the road.  A lot of them bounced! That is no lie. After they'd been exposed to ethylene they might have turned reddish, but they never would have developed the characteristic flavor of a vine-ripened tomato. I doubt that anything has changed flavor-wise in supermarket tomatoes since then.

But there's hope, at least for the home gardener. In developing tomatoes that would produce heavy yields, ripen uniformly, ship well, and appeal to buyers, genes responsible for the tomato's distinctive flavor simply were bred out of the mix. 

Dr. Harry J. Klee, in the Horticultural Sciences Department at the University of Florida, and his colleagues here subjected hundreds of tomato varieties to taste panels to select for best flavor and some keeping ability. The researchers identified the minor chemical compounds responsible for the flavor, and colleagues in China sequenced complete genomes of nearly 400 varieties. If you send a $10 donation for the research, Dr. Klee will send you seeds of 3 varieties - "Garden Treasure," "Garden Gem," and "W. Hybrid." 

My summary is a vast oversimplification, but you can read about it all on Harry's Tasty Tomato Page.

Dr. Klee's lab also is doing some work on melons, lettuce and strawberries - sure would be nice to have strawberries that don't taste like styrofoam! 

Part of my disappointing experiences growing tomatoes in containers in south Florida may be that instead of starting specific varieties from seeds, like I did in Georgia, and like my generous neighbors, I have bought plants from garden centers. They may not have been best-suited for this climate, and it is possible that they suffer from the same genetic flaws as their relatives in the supermarkets. I'm going to send my $10 to Dr. Klee, and wait until it cools off enough to plant - sometime in August or September, I hope. And maybe by then I will have made a few raised beds. It's about time.

Overboard in the Gulf of Mexico!

Having the Gulf of Mexico practically in my backyard is wonderful -except during hurricane season.  Part of it was in my backyard during Hurricane Irma. (Since our house is only about 7 feet above sea level, we left for higher ground). The hurricane hit Sunday, and when we returned on Tuesday, we saw the debris line  about 5 feet from the patio, 7-10 feet away from the house proper, so we were very lucky. People farther down the street and closer to open water had to rip out drywall and discard furniture and appliances. Down and across the canal a home was so damaged by the surge that it had to be demolished.

 I recently had another close encounter of the wrong kind with the Gulf. With the exception of 20 land-locked years in the middle of my life, I have messed around with boats from the time I was 9 or 10, both at home and with Girl Scouts. I never have fallen off a boat, and never have capsized one accidentally. (It's fun  capsizing canoes on purpose, and it takes more work than you might expect).
But there's always a first time.

We'd had a good sail in gorgeous weather out to the sea buoy, about 2 nautical miles from Marco Island, and then turned north, sailing outside Keewaydin Island toward Naples. On the way back the wind got a little frisky for our taste, so we dropped the sail. Unfortunately it didn't come down all the way. Being very careful about hanging on, I went to the bow and unjammed the sail. Then I backed back into the cockpit, but thinking the danger was over, somehow I just stepped overboard instead of back into the boat.

Falling backwards and then plop! into the water was an  unreal sensation. It felt longer than the  second it took. A gentle, but cold landing. Gulf water averages 66 degrees in early February, not cold for people up north, but no self-respecting  SW-Floridian of my generation gets into the water before it hits 80 degrees, usually in March. Apparently there is something called "Cold Response Shock," which causes one to gasp involuntarily when hitting cold water. I don't know if that is what happened to me, but I definitely came up choking.

I can't say what was going through my mind. I wasn't exactly frightened, but I was acutely aware that I was in the water, that my shoes and heavy-duty work pants were making it hard to stay afloat, and that I was suddenly, inexplicably tired, even though I am a fairly decent swimmer.

I was coughing pretty vigorously while trying not to breathe in more water. I do remember thinking, absurdly, how beautiful the water splashing against the transom was. I didn't think to kick off my shoes. Actually, I doubt that I was thinking at all.

 I had learned in safe boating courses from the Power Squadron that most people who fall overboard make it back to the boat, but that many still drown because they can't get back into the boat, and succumb to hypothermia or exhaustion. That mush have been  in the back of my mind.

But really, all that I remember  was the realization that I was not in a good place, had to get back into the boat, had to do it soon, and had to do it on the first go-round, because my energy was flagging so rapidly.  My husband had thrown me a seat cushion, and the flotation was comforting and helpful.

Our boat has a small step on the rudder and then another one on the transom, to help get back on. The   steps were a little high for me, but with my husband's help I managed first the one  and then the other, and then with his pulling and my pushing I got over the coaming, and sort of "walked" on my elbows along the seat to get the rest of the way in.

I was exhausted, and it took a long time for my heart to stop thumping, but there was still work to do before we could continue, so I did my part and then changed into a dry flannel shirt. Somewhere along the line I whacked my big toe, so had a technicolor foot for about a week - a small price to pay.

According to the Boat US Foundation, 76% of boating fatalities occur on clear days with calm seas. I wasn't a fatality, but otherwise the accident fit the mold perfectly. I'm still not quite sure what happened, just that I thought I was safe, and then the next thing I knew I was in the water. We  don't drink while boating,  I have more upper-body strength than a lot of women my age, and we're both in decent shape - all of which certainly helped my chances.

So now we are enforcing the rule that anybody who has to go forward or out on deck puts on a PFD.  I am looking for one that will not be bulky or too hot in summer, and that I can buckle and unbuckle with arthritic hands. So far the cheap red vests that we've always carried have turned out to be the most comfortable.

Another thing. I'm glad that George, the 700-1000 pound great white shark that was located in the 10,000 islands not so far south of us around the same time wasn't there, or wasn't hungry!

Stink Daisies - Weeds I Like

Another weed I like is Spanish needles, Bidens alba, which my father called "Stink Daisies," so that's what we grew up naming them. I have no idea how the name originated - neither the flower heads nor the foliage, even when crushed, has much odor at all. The ray flowers are a bright, startling white, and the disk florets a deep orange-yellow. Foliage is bright yellow green. Many heads do not have a full complement of ray florets, giving them a cheerful "snaggle-toothed" appearance.

Bidens alba

I have tried, somewhat half-heartedly, to domesticate it by growing it in a large pot, but didn't have much success. The plant seems determined to follow its cycle of growing, flowering, and turning ratty, no matter where it is. An individual plant is not very floriferous, but a stand of Bidens alba makes a graceful clump of green and white. Pollinators of all kinds love the heads, just one of the reasons I don't pull all of the plants. I like them too. They just seem cheerful, and certainly are tough enough to take anything Florida can throw at them. When they get nasty-looking I pull them out, confident that they'll pop up again somewhere soon.

According to the USDA Plants Database, the species has a somewhat sporadic distribution. It is vouchered for all of the Southeast, except Mississippi, but shows up again in Louisiana. It also occurs in New Mexico, Missouri, Pennsylvania, Connecticut and Rhode Island. I can't imagine it hasn't crept into Texas and a few other places by now.

Apart from its determination to go ratty-looking fairly quickly, the plant has another annoying aspect - its seeds. The seed is  hard, not quite one-half inch long, with 2 hooks at one end. These hooks attach themselves to any clothing or fur that passes near them, and have a special fondness for  socks. They are persistent - don't wash out in the laundry, or if they do, they just reattach themselves to some other garment. They have to be picked off laboriously, one by one. Leave one in a sock and the hooks will be prickling you soon.

Graceful Form of Spanish Needles

Judging by the behavior in my yard, and what I have observed in disturbed or weedy areas, the seeds have great viability. Most times of the year you will find Spanish needles growing and blooming somewhere, even in pavement cracks.

Roger Hammer, in his book Florida Keys Wildflowers, writes that the  plant is used medicinally in the Bahamas, to bring down fever, settle the stomach, and to cure worms in children. (p. 147).  Lantz and Deuerling write in Florida's Incredible Wild Edibles that the petals can be eaten in salads, and that young leaves and stems can be cooked as greens. (pp. 9, 13). Lantz goes on to give more detailed cooking instructions in her Florida's Edible Wild Plants, (pp. 77-78), and also reports the claim that crushing the leaves and soaking your hands in the Spanish needles water will relieve the itching from fiberglass and prickly pear glochids. (p. 80).

A neighbor across the street, has mowed around a patch of Spanish needles. It looks nice. The neighbor next to him has left a clump at the base of his mailbox, and recently on Marco Island I saw another yard where the mowers had spared the plants. That tickles me no end.


Roger L. Hammer. Florida Keys Wildflowers. Falcon. The Globe Pequot Press. 2004.

Richard J. Deureling & Peggy S. Lantz. Florida's Incredible Wild Edibles. Florida Native Plant Society. 1993. 1995.

Peggy Sias Lantz. Florida's Edible Wild Plants: A Guide to Collecting and Cooking. Seaside Publishing. 2014.

Emilia fosbergii - Weeds I Like

Since I've been fulminating against weeds, I thought I'd mention some of the ones I like. One of them is Emilia fosbergii, or "Florida Tasselflower." Since there's no grass to compete against, it comes up everywhere in the yard, but it is easy to pull, so I leave it where I like it, and pull out the rest. (Or not. I am a lazy gardener).The ones that  haven't yet gone to seed go into the compost pot. Pollinators like it too.

The top and the bottom of Emilia sort of don't match. Tall, thin stalks end in delicate nodding, drooping, sometimes upright heads of rose-red disc flowers(more on this later). The anthers (pollen-bearing structures) and pollen are bright orange-yellow. The heads are around a half-inch long or a little more, depending on where the plant is growing, and about a quarter-inch wide at the base. The bottom of the plant on the other hand, is robust and vigorous.

Vigorous Bottom Portion of Plant

The stems and new leaves can be intensely hairy. Older leaves and "sepals" (phyllaries) show varying degrees of hairiness. The way the heads seem just to float above the foliage would make Emilia a nice plant to include in a mixed border. A larger plant with 8-10 flowering stems could even have the honor of a place in front, but since Tasselflower is a weed, its growth can be unpredictable. The flowering heads can be anywhere from 4 -to - 6 inches above the ground in young plants, up to around 20 inches above ground on older, larger plants. Growing conditions also affect the size and number of flowering stalks. The plants deteriorate after they set seeds. I haven't tried dead-heading to see whether I could prolong blooming, because the plant self-sows so vigorously.


The growth form of the plant is pretty cool. The first leaves on the stem are quite different from those farther along. They are roughly the shape of an inverted triangle on a long thin stem. The "stem" is actually not a petiole, but an extremely narrowed part of the leaf blade itself. As you move up the plant you get  intermediate leaf stages with increasingly shortened "stalks." The leaf itself becomes more oblong, and eventually arrow-shaped. At first glance it looks like the stem punches through the higher-up leaves, but a closer look shows that the base of the leaf clasps the stem.

Another leaf clasping a stem is formed between the "old" leaf and the main stem. This smaller leaf gradually enlarges to full size as the stem new itself grows longer. In the drawing below you can see the tiny leaf just to the right of the caption. The new stem elongates while the leaf enlarges, until you get the structure in the right hand of the drawing, in which the leaf and stem appear "on top" of the older leaf.

Another species, Emilia sonchifolia, "Lilac Tasselflower," occurs much less frequently in the yard. In general it seems a more diminutive and less vigorous plant, but that may be a function of its environment. The disk florets are a beautiful purple-pink instead of red. It is less common than its red cousin. According to the USDA Plants Database website, Emilia fosbergii occurs in Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Texas and California. Its origin is unclear, with Asia, Australia, and South and Central America all listed as possibilities.


Emilia is a member of the Aster family. What many people (and I used to be among them) think of as a single flower in this family is actually a conglomeration, or composite, of individual flowers or florets, called a "head." This might seem like a trick the botanists have come up with to  keep us amateurs out, but it actually makes sense once you start really looking hard. The things that look like petals are "ray florets," and the things in the middle are "disk florets." The first drawing, on the left, shows the entire head, with ray florets around the outside, and the disk in the center. The drawing on the far right shows a cross section of the disk, with opened disk florets near the outside of the circle, and unopened disk flowers near the center. I gather, and I may be wrong, wrong, wrong, that in a case like the one illustrated, the ray florets are sterile, while the disk florets are fertile.

Pityopsis graminifolia
"Narrow leaf Silk Grass"

To make things more complicated, some members of the Aster family have only ray flowers. In this case they are fertile, and they are called ligulate florets. Ligulate florets have teeth. In the drawing of Hieracium megacephalon, "Hawkweed," below, there is no central disk, only ligulate florets. The sexual parts of the florets emerge from the base, so are clustered in the center of the head. Notice the teeth.

Hieracium megacephalon
Coastal Plain Hawkweed

And, there are members of the family with only disk florets, like Emilia, Ageratum, or thistles.

Circium, sp. "Thistle"

I find the seemingly infinite variety of ways in which plants go about their business utterly fascinating, and I keep discovering new things every time I look hard even at familiar plants.

Another Weed from Hell

Not all noxious weeds are exotics. Native species can be just as unwelcome! You'd think I'd have learned by now to be suspicious of any new plant popping up in the yard, because so many have turned out to be pests. No, I wait until I've got an infestation before I decide they are unwelcome. 

 I first noticed Galactia, or Milk Pea, twining around some Pink Muhly Grass. It didn't seem to amount to much, and it  had a rather sweet little pink flower. I forgot all about it. Big mistake. They may seem delicate and innocuous, but they become a menace in a very short time due to their robust production of mostly-viable seeds. They twine around any and all support, blocking sunshine, and wrapping so tightly around stems that in some cases they start cutting off circulation. A good healthy vine has no trouble pulling a small-to-medium woody branch downwards.

Stems with the diameter of large thread prove surprisingly strong.  Over time the vine develops a relatively deep, carrot-like taproot, a series of taproots, or even a kind of colony of roots. Even in sandy soil it isn’t easy to dig them out.( Because of the long taproot, milkpea species would likely regenerate quickly after brush fires). It gets even more complicated when you want to avoid too much damage to the infested plant you want to save. Digging and pulling hurt the plants you want to save. Herbicide will kill the leaves, but the plant regenerates from the deep roots. And it is very difficult to avoid getting any herbicide on the "good" plant.

 After reading Guy L. Nesom's, Taxonomy of Galactia (Fabaceae) in the USA, (link below), I've concluded that the milk peas in my yard are either Galactia regularis, Galactia volubilis, or both. According to Nesom the taxonomy of Galactia is somewhat confused, even controversial, especially so when it comes to these 2 species. Both have alternate, 3-foliate leaves, with fruits and stems displaying varying degrees of hairiness. (A 3 foliate leaf looks like a cluster of 3 leaves, but actually is only 1. Lots of species in the "Bean" family have this characteristic).

The weed(s) show great variation in size in my yard, depending on exposure to sunlight and general growing conditions, and I made all  my drawings and sketches from different plants at different times before I realized I might be dealing with more than 1 species. However, the species in the drawing most closely resembles G. volubilis, due to its long flowering stalk, size of flower, and mostly oblong-to-lanceolate leaf shape. The seedpod as drawn may not be typical.

 According to Nesom's article, Milkpeas are widespread in Florida and much of the United States. The genus occurs mainly in the Americas, especially the southeast and south-central US, West Indies and Mexico. Four species are native to Asia, Africa and Australia. The genus name is derived from the Greek galaktos, “milk,” due to the milky sap in some species. (The Florida species do not have milky sap).  Nesom lists 21 species for the US, with 13 represented in Florida.

 Several plants of in a pot with a trellis could make an attractive display, and the flowers attract numerous small pollinators. However, great care would be necessary to keep it from spreading, given the  high germination rate of the seeds.  Birds and possibly insects eat the seeds. Grubbing animals like skunks might be able to  eat the smaller taproots, but it would take some "chompers" and cast-iron digestive system to get anything from the taproots once they become woody.

Milkpea is a legume, and most legumes are associated with nitrogen-fixing bacteria in their roots. So far I haven't been able to ascertain whether local species of Galactia are associated with such bacteria, though I haven’t seen any typical root nodules.

Minno and Minno (1999) list the milkpeas vouchered for Collier County as larval host plants for Ceraunus and Cassius Blues, the Gray Hairstreak, Silver Spotted Skipper, Zarucco Dusky Wing Skipper and the Long-Tailed Skipper. 


 Apart from personal observations or as otherwise noted, the information in this article is derived from Guy L. Nesom, (Fabaceae) in the USA. Phytoneuron 2015-42: 1-54. Published 15 Jul 2015. ISSN 2153 733X.  

Marc and Maria Minno. Florida Butterfly Gardening. University Press of Florida. 1999.

Damn the Torpedograss!

       The native white-or-yellow-flowered Heliotropium polyphyllum and the lavender exotic Heliotropium amplexicaule make good groundcovers where foot traffic is light. They are popular with butterflies and other pollinators. They tend to die back in the dry season for me because I don't give them much water, and in really dry and windy stretches they may get attacked by whitefly. I cut them back hard a couple times a year to keep them looking good. Heliotropes are members of the borage family, and their old leaves turn black. If you don't cut them back periodically you end up with a thatch of dead leaves and bare stems with just some ratty foliage on top. They don't seem to compete well in my yard, so it takes occasional, but regular, weeding to maintain a nice patch.

Heliotropium polyphyllum
"Pineland Heliotrope"

This species also does well in coastal, sandy areas. I rescued mine from a vacant lot that was about to be developed.

     

       Some years ago I noticed some grass appearing in a patch of Heliotropiums in the back yard. Ignoring it turned out to be a huge mistake, because it soon was choking out everything in that small quadrant. 

            This was my introduction to  Panicum repens, aka “torpedograss,” “quack grass,” and “bullet grass.” Truly a weed from hell, this grass is a serious problem worldwide. It is native to parts of Asia and Africa. Though it grows from seeds, its main method of attack in Florida is by way of tough rhizomes (creeping underground horizontal stems), which can extend downward more than 2 feet. The rhizomes produce sharp stiff points – the “bullets” or “torpedoes” – that penetrate weed barriers and even thin paving. Any little piece of the rhizome can start a new plant. "My" torpedograss probably sneaked in from my neighbor, who didn't have a lawn, but just kept his weeds mowed to give an illusion of green. Turf grass doesn't do well in South Florida, so I'm not blaming him! He no doubt was "infected" by somebody else.

Panicum repens rhizome and parts of blades

            Torpedograss was around in the late 1800's, but became widespread with the help of the USDA, which reportedly imported and distributed seeds for planting in pastures in the 1920's. It's not    clear whether torpedograss even provides good forage.

            Now this serious pest of cropland, citrus groves and natural areas extends throughout Florida and along the Gulf Coast westward through Texas. It also occurs in Georgia, South and North Carolina, California and Hawaii. It tolerates just about any soil, growing both in dry sand and in the rich muck of swamps and lakes. It grows rampantly in warm weather, and slows down in the cooler months. The blades can grow 3 feet tall or more.

            The largest infestation in Florida is around Lake Okeechobee, where it has displaced at least 7,000 acres of native marsh. IFAS (University of Florida Institute of Food and Agricultural Sciences) estimates that it has invaded 70% of Florida's waters. It is especially insidious because it closely resembles, and grows alongside, the native  maidencane (Panicum hemitomon), a vital part of the natural ecosystem, making efforts to control it even more difficult. 

            The State of Florida spends millions of dollars a year on management of this pest. In the words of Dan Gill, garden columnist for the New Orleans Times-Picayune, "Torpedograss is not difficult to eradicate: It is nearly impossible to eradicate.”

            Glyphosate is the herbicide most recommended for chemical control. Repeated sprays at the highest label rates are required. There are problems with Glyphosate, though. It is  non-selective herbicide, meaning it kills anything, so any spray drift or drips can be lethal to plants you don't want to kill. 

             I literally painted individual stems and leaves of the grass with a pastry brush saturated with high-rate Glyphosate mix. (I wore gloves and protective clothing). Even though the area was small, this was time-consuming, back-and-knee-killing work. It had to be repeated, and it didn't eliminate the problem.  Even though I was careful, there was collateral damage, especially to a Florida native called gopher apple (Licania michauxii).  It's pure speculation on my part, but I wonder if there was some root-to-root, or soil-to-root transfer of the herbicide.

Licania michauxii
"Gopher Apple"

            After the initial kill I dug out as many rhizomes as I could. The stems are strong, and when pulled, may just break off at ground level. Any parts left underground merrily continue growing. I had to get down and dirty to get at the rhizomes – a delicate operation since they were intertwined with the roots of desirable plants, so no matter how careful I was, I still damaged the plants I was trying to save.  I was amazed at both how deep and how long the rhizomes extended. Every time I pulled out one a foot long or more, I felt like I'd bagged a "big one!"

            That was about 7 years ago. I no longer use Glyphosate, but just try to dig, clip, and pull. Given the amount of work it has taken to keep it under control in an area no bigger than  20’ x 20’at most,  the scope of the problem in Florida and the rest of the world is staggering. It would be nice if our nursery and agricultural agencies would learn to “just say no,” to imports sometimes.

Megachile (Alfalfa Bee) on Pineland Heliotrope

For more information on Torpedograss:

 Gill, Dan. “Go on the Offensive Against Torpedograss.” New Orleans Times-Picayune. July 19, 2012.

“Panicum repens L”. Langeland, Cherry et al. University of Fl.-IFAS Pub. Sp257. 2008. Center for Aquatic and Invasive Plants. University of Florida, IFAS. Also available through Florida Exotic Pest Plant Council.  www. Fleppc.org.

USDA Plants Database. Plants.usda.gov.

Yarlett, Lewis. L. Common Grasses of Florida and the Southeast. Florida Native Plant Society. 1996. P. 143.

Strangler Fig

South Florida has its share of botanical oddities, and one of the strangest of these is the strangler fig, Ficus aurea Nutt. This plant occurs in the Bahamas, West Indies, and up into central Florida. It is a vitally important source of food for wildlife, especially birds. Often seen in swamps and sloughs, it also thrives just behind the dune line on beaches, and in general landscape conditions. Given time and space, the strangler fig becomes a magnificent tree, 50-60 feet tall, with a wide, rounded crown.

Berries and Leaves

Delnor Wiggins Pass State Park

The very name of the plant creates a little shiver, which its growth pattern does nothing to dispel. It generally starts out as an epiphyte, after a seed which has lodged in a rough spot in the bark of a tree or behind the "boot" of a cabbage palm germinates. (The "boot" is what is left after the rest of an old frond has fallen off the tree. It is actually the base of the frond, and creates a mini-habitat for all manner of flora and fauna).  After it germinates, the seed puts out  an aerial root, which  grows downward and around, vine-like, until it reaches the ground.

Strangler Fig beginning to grow on Cabbage Palm.

Cabbage Palm still thriving

Delnor Wiggins Pass State Park, 

Naples, FL

Once rooted, it starts growing back up and around the tree, gradually encircling and constricting its host. 

Strangler fig beginning to grow back up a cabbage palm

 Weaver's Station, Fakahatchee Strand State Preserve, Collier County Florida

As the stems/roots grow they sport numerous new aerial roots, so the process of encirclement accelerates after a certain point. Eventually all these vining stems may come together to form a trunk. Cabbage palms typically die when their crowns are shaded out, or even collapse under the fig's weight. Hardwoods die as the circulation of water and nutrients is increasingly restricted.

Strangler Fig and dead Cabbage Palm

Delnor Wiggins Pass State Park

Naples, Florida

The battle between the strangler fig and huge cypress trees can be epic, taking decades to be won, or ending in a standoff. The strain is visible as the bark of the cypress breaks and buckles within the fig's coils. Even an apparently moribund cypress will still send out shoots and sprouts its bid to survive.

Strangler Fig and Bald Cypress

Big Cypress Boardwalk

Fakahatchee Strand

The texture of an old fig is like the proverbial moonscape, with warts, bumps, ripples and dents, and often is decorated with moss, algae and/or lichens.

Strangler Fig on Bald Cypress

Fakahatchee Strand

Big Cypress Bend Boardwalk

Back in the 1950's my young friends and I were completely unfazed by the profusion of deadly toxic oleanders in the Florida landscape. They even were planted on the grounds of our elementary school, and we played in their shade. We knew better than to mess with them, and we liked the flowers. Strangler figs were another matter altogether. Shivering in delighted horror, we shared tales of unfortunates who went to sleep in the shade of a strangler fig, only to awaken, too late! in its suffocating coils. Even as an adult who is not afraid of snakes, I still find something a little macabre, inexorable and python-like about this plant.

Strangler Fig and Spanish Moss on

Cabbage Palm

Rookery Bay National Estuarine Research Reserve

Collier County, FL