Monthly Archives: July 2022

‘Getting Shrubby With It’ in the July Prairie Garden

“We might think we are nurturing our garden, but of course it’s our garden which is really nurturing us.” –Jenny Uglow

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How can it be the end of July?

In my backyard, the first thunderstorms in weeks water the parched prairie patch. Queen of the Prairie has weathered the recent drought amazingly well. It showers with us with pink flowers.

Queen of the Prairie (Filipendula rubra), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Queen of the Prairie is a great plant for our “subdivision slope” issue. Our backyard is at the confluence of two properties that are higher. Water drains from neighboring yards into ours. Fortunately, Queen of the Prairie helps soak up water run-off, and is deer and rabbit resistant. Next to its pink, lavender Sweet Joe Pye Weed is coming into bloom.

Sweet Joe Pye Weed (Eutrochium purpureum), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

I’m not sure the recent rains are in time for the Cardinal Flowers; none are blooming yet this season. It’s still early, but I wonder. Cardinal Flower is capricious. One year, you see red everywhere, the next, zilch. Just when I think I’ve lost Cardinal Flower for good, however, up it pops. My fingers are crossed.

Cardinal flower (Lobelia cardinalis), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL (2019)

But I do spot a single scarlet flower in my new front yard prairie pollinator patch, which is coming along nicely for its first season. It’s not Cardinal Flower.

Front yard prairie pollinator patch, added this spring, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Yes! The Royal Catchfly, in its first year, gives me one bloom. It’s so low to the ground, I almost miss it.

Royal catchfly (Silene regia), Crosby front yard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Despite the ongoing battles with the bunnies—and the lack of rainfall until recently— the vegetable garden is thriving. After fencing the raised bed, the chewed-off green bean plants are zipping skyward on their trellis.

Blue Lake Green Beans (Phaseolus vulgaris ‘Blue Lake’) and Cut and Come Again Zinnias (Zinnia pulmila), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

The backyard and front yard prairie plantings both soldier on, despite carnage from the neighborhood bunnies’ prodigious appetite. In the new front yard prairie pollinator patch, the Sky Blue Asters, Blazing Star, and Pale Purple Coneflowers have sustained the worst damage. Although nibbled almost to death, they are still viable. If I was starting this planting again, I’d fence it. Too late! Instead I shoo the rabbits away when I water, and hope the foot traffic during the day is a deterrent.

We live in a neighborhood with a lot of walkers and bikers, so the sign and metal butterfly (below) are an important part of conveying what these wildflowers and grasses are all about.

Crosby’s front yard prairie pollinator patch, Glen Ellyn, IL.

In the backyard, New Jersey Tea, scissored by rabbit teeth, managed to put out a few blooms in early July. It’s now developing seeds for the first time. I feel a real sense of accomplishment, which is difficult to explain to those who haven’t tried growing this prairie shrub in rabbit-ish conditions.

New Jersey Tea (Ceanothus americanus), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

2021 was our “Year of the Native Shrub,” and we attempted to rectify our lack of such in one fell swoop. We planted two Spice Bush, an American Hazelnut, a fall-blooming Witch Hazel , and five bush honeysuckles (the native Diervilla lonicera, not the invasive types). The pair of Spice Bush shrubs went into a sloped flower bed, where they may have to be eventually moved because of their height (ah, well). They are in a prime spot for Spice Bush Butterfly viewing from the patio. None sighted yet, but I live in hope. The Bush Honeysuckle is tough. Despite the lack of rainfall, all five honeysuckles are still alive and kicking.

Native Bush Honeysuckle (Diervilla lonicea), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

We also put in a long-desired Button Bush shrub close to the pond last fall, after first ripping out a bird-planted alder. The shrub doesn’t look like much right now….

Button Bush (Cephalanthus occidentalis), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

…but I’m grateful it made it through the winter.

Button Bush (Cephalanthus occidentalis), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Now, it is putting on growth. Despite the drought. Despite the rabbits. When I see the towering specimens—up to eight feet high in the natural areas where I volunteer—I can dream of what this shrub will eventually look like.

Button Bush (Cephalanthus occidentalis) with Eastern Black Swallowtail (Papilio polyxenes asterius), The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

Now I’m trying to decide what shrubs to plant in the deep shade along the front of the house. It currently hosts a few scraggly Japanese Spirea and crowded Hosta plants, all which were here when we purchased our home 24 years ago. Their days are numbered.

Unknown Hostas and Japanese Spirea (Spiraea japonica), Crosby’s front yard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Countless hours will pass this summer poring over native plant websites like Possibility Place and Prairie Moon, and planning purchases for next spring’s local native plant sales. Reading these plant sale lists is a welcome respite from the latest news cycle. Gardening is an act of hope.

And—any time in the garden and prairie is time well spent.

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Jenny Uglow (1947-) is an English writer and historian, known for her biographies and portrayal of scientific thought. Read more about her here.

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Sign, Sign, Everywhere a Sign

One of the best things you can do for a home prairie is to invest in a good sign for your planting. Neighbors will have a better grasp of what you are up to; a few garden pieces (like my metal butterfly shown in the blog post today) also convey meaning without anyone reading a word. The Conservation Foundation has a great certification program with a sign in the Chicago Region; Wild Ones Native Plant groups, and Monarch WayStation signs are all available across the United States. Browse Etsy and online websites for more unique signs. Or make a sign yourself! Good signs are ambassadors for prairie.

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Join Cindy for a Program in August!

West Cook Wild Ones presents: A Brief History of Trees in America with Cindy Crosby on Sunday, August 21, 2:30-4 p.m. on Zoom. From oaks to maples to elms: trees changed the course of American history. Native Americans knew trees provided the necessities of life, from food to transportation to shelter. Trees built America’s railroads, influenced our literature and poetry, and informed our music. Discover the roles of a few of our favorite trees in building our nation—and their symbolism and influence on the way we think—as you reflect on the trees most meaningful to you. Free and open to the public—join from anywhere in the world—but you must preregister. Register here.

July on the Tallgrass Prairie

“Those who contemplate the beauty of the Earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts.” — Rachel Carson

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Walk with me into the tallgrass.

Sandhill cranes (Antigone canadensis), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Leave any worries you have at the gate.

Teneral meadowhawk (Sympetum sp.), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Look around. It’s July on the prairie; one of the most beautiful months of the year for wildflowers and critters of all kinds. Can you feel the tensions of the day dissolving?

Monkeyflower (Mimulous ringens), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Consider how many almost-invisible creatures are all around you. Focus as you walk. A flash of color—a small movement. What joy when you discover the citrine forktail damselfly, so tiny in the grasses!

Citrine forktail (Ischnura hastata), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

How could something so minuscule and colorful exist in this world, yet almost no one knows its name?

Citrine forktail (Ischnura hastata), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

What other names do we not know? What else are we overlooking?

Walk the shoreline of the prairie pond, trampled by bison hooves. Notice a fleet of butterflies puddling, each only an about inch or less.

A rare stray to Illinois, this marine blue butterfly (Leptotes marina) was spotted at Nachusa Grasslands in Franklin Grove, IL, on 7-18-22, in the company of two eastern tailed blues (on the right).

Pause to admire them. How many other unusual creatures do we miss each day?

Look closer.

Possibly a bullfrog (Lithobates catesbeianus), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL. (ID correction welcome)

Even common creatures are uncommonly exciting when you watch them for a while.

Open your eyes. Really pay attention.

Eastern pondhawk (Erythemis simplicicollis), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

It’s difficult to believe the range of hues spread across the insect world, much less the natural world.

Springwater dancer damselflies in tandem (Argia plana), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Even a single feather is a piece of art.

Unknown bird feather, Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

There is so much beauty all around us.

Nachusa Grasslands in July, Franklin Grove, IL.

The world can be a frightening place. It sometimes leaves us tattered and worn.

Common whitetail dragonfly (Plathemis lydia), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

But if you look carefully enough…

Female ebony jewelwing damselfly (Calopteryx maculata), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

…it keeps you hopeful.

Sandhill cranes (Antigone canadensis) and a red-winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Walk long enough, look closely enough, and you might begin to think that maybe….just maybe…change in the world is possible.

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Rachel Carson (1907-64) was a true force of nature, writing bestselling books that changed the world (Consider Silent Spring published 1962, 60 years ago). I admire Carson for her resilience, her willingness to speak out, and her love and dedication to her family. She firmly believed in wonder, and its power to change us and to change the world. Read more about her life here. I’ve began this blog with her quote before, but in the times we find ourselves in, I felt a need to hear it again for myself. You, too?

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Join Cindy for a Program in August!

West Cook Wild Ones presents: A Brief History of Trees in America with Cindy Crosby on Sunday, August 21, 2:30-4 p.m. on Zoom. From oaks to maples to elms: trees changed the course of American history. Native Americans knew trees provided the necessities of life, from food to transportation to shelter. Trees built America’s railroads, influenced our literature and poetry, and informed our music. Discover the roles of a few of our favorite trees in building our nation—and their symbolism and influence on the way we think—as you reflect on the trees most meaningful to you. Free and open to the public—join from anywhere in the world—but you must preregister. Register here.

Of Prairie Wildflowers and Wily Weevils

“If I had my way, I’d remove January from the calendar altogether and have an extra July instead.” –Roald Dahl

We need…rain. I keep looking to the skies for any sign of it. No luck.

What we will see on Wednesday is the full “Super Buck Moon” , sometimes called the “Thunder Moon”. On Monday, not quite at peak, it was still stunning.

Almost to full moon over Crosby’s backyard prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Despite the lack of rain, the prairie pours out flowers.

Leadplant (Amorpha canescens) and prairie cinquefoil (Drymocallis arguta), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Acre after acre of wildflowers.

Leadplant (Amorpha canescens), prairie dock (Silphium terebinthinaceum), new jersey tea (Ceanothus americanus) and other prairie species, Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Not all is going smoothly in the grasslands, however. This is the season of the wonderful, wild, and wicked weevils. Two of the prairie’s evil weevils merit special attention: the sunflower head-clipping weevil and the wild indigo weevil. Let’s turn our attention first to the sunflower head-clipping weevil.

Compass plant (Silphium laciniatum), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL. (2020)

Looks innocent, doesn’t it? Then —see that compass plant with its flowerhead chopped off? 

Compass plant (Silphium laciniatum), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

That’s a signature weevil move. How about that prairie dock bloom? Or…was in bloom.

Prairie dock (Silphium terebinthinaceum), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Yup, the wily weevil was at work again.  Sometimes known by its nickname, “the head clipping weevil,” its scientific name is almost-almost!–unpronounceable: Haplorhynchites aeneus. Our wicked weevil is black, and about ⅓ inches long with a long, curved schnoz. Rather than knifing through the flower itself, the weevil severs the stem below the flower head. After the weevil applies the guillotine and girdles the flower’s peduncles (try saying that fast three times), the resiny sap of the compass plant bubbles to the surface and glistens in the sunshine. You can see the resiny sap on the plants in the winter, too, but it’s more crystalized.

Compass plant (Silphium laciniatum), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL (November 2021)

Now, swipe your finger over that sticky sap, and you’ll get a taste of Native American chewing gum. Note: Don’t get the resinous sap in your hair. If you do, you’ll star in a completely different kind of episode of “Chopped.”

White wild indigo (Baptisia alba) and brown-belted bumblebee (Bombus griseocollis), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

The sunflower head-clipping weevil is only one of many weevils on the prairie. The wild indigo weevil (Trichapion rostrum) is in the Family Brentidae, a group of straight-snouted weevils. This family is currently in flux—entomologists still haven’t decided who exactly is in it (#entomologicaldilemmas). This is a hungry, hungry weevil, which we find in the fall inside pods of white wild indigo. At only a quarter of an inch, the wild indigo weevil is (wait for it) the “lesser of two weevils.” (Da-da-dum).

Wild indigo weevils at work on white wild indigo seed pods, Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL. (2021)

Weevils have many devoted fans. There are weevil blogs, weevils websites, and weevil specialists. You could say that weevils are some of the stars of the insect world! I’m glad they specialize. Imagine if they cut the flower heads off of all prairie flowers. Yikes!

Prairie milkweed (Asclepias sullivanti), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

It’s bad enough they attack some of the sunflowers and some of the coneflowers. Destructive? Yup. Fascinating? Absolutely. Perhaps the most famous weevil is the Boll Weevil (Anthonomus grandis), featured in Elvis Presley’s song, “Little Sister.” Rock on, weevils! But leave some of the other prairie wildflowers to the bees and other insects, okay? 

Butterfly milkweed (Asclepias tuberosa), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Who knows what other intriguing insects you’ll find in the tallgrass this week?

12-spotted skimmer (Libellula pulchella), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Wildflowers, too.

Illinois tick trefoil (Desmodium illinoense), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Why not go for a hike and see what you discover?

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The opening quote is by Roald Dahl (1916-1990), a British spy, fighter pilot, and the author of James and the Giant Peach, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Matilda, and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

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Join Cindy for a class or program this week!

Last call for Beginning Dragonfly and Damselfly ID offered as a blended class through The Morton Arboretum in Lisle, IL! Join Cindy on Zoom Thursday for an introduction to the fascinating world of dragonflies and damselflies. Then, meet your class on the prairie to discover some of these beautiful flying insects. Register here.

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Thanks to Teri P. for the Elvis Presley reference, and to the following sources on weevils: The Smithsonian online, the Chicago Botanic Garden (great blog post! check it out), North Carolina State extension, Wikipedia, and the Kansas State Extension, and many prairie mentors over the years who loved the “lesser of two weevils” pun, and shared it with me. I laughed every time.

A Moment of Prairie Peace

“When despair for the world grows in me… .” — Wendell Berry

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It’s tough to find words this morning. So—let’s go for a walk.

River jewelwing (Calopteryx aequabilis), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

There is solace in watching damselflies. They flaunt and flirt and flutter in the cool July streams…

Ebony jewelwing damselflies (Calopteryx maculata) and river jewelwing damselfly (Calopteryx aequabilis), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Their cares are so different than my own. What do they worry about, I wonder?

Springwater dancer damselfly (Argia plana), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Perhaps they keep an eye out for darting tree swallows, or a floating frog.

American bullfrog (Lithobates catesbeianus), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Maybe they watch for a ravenous fish, lurking just beneath the stream’s surface. Or even a hungry dragonfly.

Virginia bunch-flower (Melanthium virginicum) and widow skimmer dragonfly (Libellula luctuosa), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

As I walk and look around the prairie, I feel myself become calmer. The bumblebees and honeybees and native bees go about their life’s work of visiting flowers. Not a bad way to live.

Assorted bees on purple prairie clover (Dalea purpurea), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

The poet Mary Oliver writes in her poem, “Invitation”: “It is a serious thing/ just to be alive/ on this fresh morning/ in this broken world.”

Compass plant (Silphium laciniatum), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

I wade into the stream and watch the damselflies. Some scout for insects. Others perch silently along the shoreline.

River bluet (Enallagma anna), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Others are busy dancing a tango with a partner…

Springwater dancer damselflies (Argia plana), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

…laying groundwork for the future.

Ebony jewelwing damselfly (Calopteryx maculata) ovipositing, Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Today, all I can do is walk in this world. All I can do is look.

Male ebony jewelwing damselfly (Calopteryx maculata), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Pay attention.

Summer on the Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

I don’t want to stop feeling. Or stop caring.

Eastern amberwing dragonfly (Perithemis tenera) on unknown water lily , Lisle, IL.

I never want to be numb to the grief in this world, even when it feels overwhelming.

Fame Flower Knob, Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

But it feels like too much sometimes.

And even though the world seems broken beyond repair right now, when I look around me….

Michigan lily (Lilium michiganense), Schulenberg Prairie Savanna, Lisle, IL.

… I’m reminded of how beautiful it can be.

Calico pennant dragonfly (Celithemis elisa) , Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

What will it take for things to change?

Common buckeye butterfly (Junonia coenia), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Never give up. We need to leave this world a better place than we found it. Even when putting the pieces back together feels impossible.

I need that reminder today.

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Wendell Berry (1934-) is a writer, environmental activist, novelist, essayist, and farmer. The beginning of his poem, “The Peace of Wild Things,” opens this blog. You can read the complete poem here. It’s a good one.

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Upcoming Classes and Programs

Learn more about dragonflies and damselflies in Beginning Dragonfly and Damselfly ID, a two-part class online and in-person. Join Cindy on Thursday, July 14, for a two-hour Zoom then Friday, July 15 for three hours in the field at The Morton Arboretum in Lisle, IL. Register here.