Unofficial milkweed field trial

Over the past year, there has been a good bit of publicity and discussion in gardening circles about the efficacy of planting tropical milkweed (Asclepias curassavica) in our butterfly gardens as an aid to Monarch and other milkweed butterflies. There has been research that has indicated that this non-native plant might actually be harming these butterflies and urging gardeners to plant native milkweed instead.

For the past several years, the only milkweed that I had found available in local nurseries was the tropical kind, and so I had planted it in my garden where it has thrived. It lives through the winter here, although it generally dies back to the roots, and I usually cut it back several times during the year. Cutting it back supposedly reduces the toxins which may cause problems for butterflies, and, if it isn't cut back, it gets quite spindly and gangly and not very attractive. But the butterflies seemed to like it. Maybe because there wasn't an alternative for them.

So, I decided to give them an alternative.

After reviewing my options, I decided to order some seeds from Botanical Interests during this past winter. I planted the seeds of butterflyweed (Asclepias tuberosa) and swamp milkweed (Asclepias incarnata) and started the plants under my grow-lights.

Most of the seeds germinated and the plants thrived, so by late spring, I had two trays of native milkweed to plant in my garden. I put the plants outside for hardening off and planned how I would monitor both these plants and the tropical milkweed, which was already up and blooming, to try to determine if the butterflies actually showed a preference.

It didn't take long to get the first data from my unofficial milkweed field trial. By the time I went to put my native plants into my garden beds, I found that, in spite of the fact that the plants were still small and had no blooms, several of them already had tiny Monarch caterpillars on them! Meanwhile, all the tropical plants were bushy and healthy and blooming and notably caterpillar-free. The Monarchs had spoken loudly and clearly: They preferred the native plants.

And that has continued to be case. Here is a look at some of my plants today.

This is some of my native milkweed. It all looks like this today. Nothing but stems because the leaves have been devoured by several caterpillars. Actually, it has already started coming back because a few days ago it had no leaves at all. If only the butterflies will leave it alone for a while, it will eventually grow back all the way. Maybe it will even get a chance to bloom.

And here is some of the tropical milkweed, healthy and blooming. These last few days, I have noted a few Monarch butterflies visiting these plants. Once again, until the native plants grow back, they have little alternative if they have eggs to lay.

There are some Monarch eggs scattered about on this plant. I expect to see caterpillars soon.

My thoroughly unscientific, anecdotal conclusion is this: Monarch butterflies will lay their eggs on native milkweed plants whenever they have that choice. If they have no choice, they'll settle for the non-native plants.

My advice to gardeners based on my findings is to locate native plants or get the seeds and start your own and plant them in your garden. Your butterflies will thank you.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

Search This Blog