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

Welcome!

Welcome to Florida Backyard Sketchbook. I know, just what the world needs - another blog. But when I see the rate at which natural Florida is vanishing, the need to preserve, defend, and at least, chronicle its unique character is overwhelming. I hope to provide a glimpse of this character through the perspective of my literal and figurative backyard. This blog is dedicated to a space and place too often misunderstood, under-appreciated, and mistreated.

                                          Entrance to Blackwater Creek
                                          10,000 Islands, near Marco Island, Florida



Please bear with me as I scrabble up the learning curve for blogging. If I wait until I know what I'm doing, I never will get anything posted!

Yes, South Florida Has Seasons!

People often lament that there are no seasons in Florida, especially South Florida. I’ll admit they are subtle, but they do exist. The big divide is wet vs. dry, but there are other changes as well. October is a transitional month - it may be wet, dry, or both. For us here on the coast, the rain faucet was turned off the second week of October, and I have used just about all of the rainwater I managed to save during the summer. Bright, breezy days dry plants out in a hurry.

It definitely gets noticeably cooler and drier after September. Though we can have hot and humid days all year, the relative humidity does drop in the fall, and it just doesn't "feel" like summer any more. We can turn off the air conditioning and open the windows again. What a liberation! Skies tend to be a more intense blue, as the summer haze disappears. 

 One of the first signs of autumn – the arrival of huge swarms of blackbirds and starlings - makes me very melancholy.  They swarm like something out of  Hitchcock, lining up on the power lines by the hundreds, or making sweeps of open lots and lawns. I could live with the blackbirds, because they are at least native, but I hate the destructiveness of the ever-increasing hordes of starlings. We have starlings all year,  but our summer numbers are augmented by northern migrants.

Another sign of autumn is the same as “up north.” The asters start blooming. The Elliott’s Asters in our front yard got so blown and burned by Irma that they may not bloom this year, but late summer and autumn definitely are glory time for many members of the Asteraceae. 

Aster elliottii - Elliott's Aster

Elliott's Aster is a diminutive plant, with heads no larger than a dime. You need a clump to have any garden impact, but that is not hard given the plant's suckering habit. In fact, unless you have room to spare, you will be pulling out plants regularly to keep it within bounds. The plant occurs naturally in swampy or marshy places. It grows in a lower area of my garden, which stays more moist than the rest, but is scarcely swampy unless we have a particularly wet summer. During the winter, when we get little rain, it may go dormant and disappear entirely, the way northern perennials do to survive cold weather. In spite of its eagerness to take over the garden, it really is a charming plant, and various pollinators love it.

Autumn is the time Florida's beautiful native grasses come into bloom.

 The chalky-silver/blue-green blades of Elliott's Lovegrass, Eragrostis elliottii, make it lovely even out of bloom. In late summer to early fall it sends up hundreds of tall, delicate, multi-branched bloom stalks that first bear tiny flowers, and later multiple seed heads (spikelets). In full bloom the plant seems to be covered with a fine white or golden-beige mist. I don't water it, so it turns brown, and may even disappear during winter. Maybe this year I will water one clump to see whether the foliage will persist. It will make a clump about 2-3 feet wide and tall. My only complaint with this plant is that its brittle seed stalks break off and tumble in the wind. They always want to blow in the door when I go in and out, and they have the very irritating habit of working their way up my pants leg. It's impossible to fish them out without taking my trousers off. A real nuisance! But worth it.

The blooms of Pink Muhly Grass, Muhlenbergia capillaris, are even more delicate and diffuse than those of Elliott's Love grass. Muhly grass comes into bloom a little later, though the showy times overlap. Muhly grass is one of our most beautiful native grasses. It likes seasonal moisture with  a winter dry-down, so it is perfect for my yard. It has a more vase-like form than Elliott's love grass, and also grows taller.

The rising or setting sun shining through the flowers gives a golden sheen to their  pink/purple coloration - one of the many beautiful sights provided by Florida native plants.

Fall  is mating time for the ospreys. Their melodic, piercing chirps and squeals mark the early mornings and early evenings. They are in the sky a lot, performing their aerial displays. This year the ospreys have more work than usual, since many of their nests were destroyed when Hurricane Irma toppled trees, power poles, and channel markers.

Migratory birds start arriving, Palm Warblers being among the first.

 To quote  Morton C. Winsberg, Florida Weather. (University of Central Florida Press, 1990, page 26): "{Those} who find Florida's climate monotonous ...might learn to use criteria other than temperature to differentiate one season from another." There are lots of signs that summer is over - we just have to get outside and look around us.

Carphephorus corymbosus (Chaffhead) - A Florida Native Plant in the Aster Family