Macro Monday: Scoliid Wasp

This Digging or Blue-Winged Wasp (Scolia dubia) is a beneficial insect in my lawn and garden, as it is a natural control agent for the destructive grubs of the June Bug (Beetle). Here, the female is feeding on the wildflower Frostweed (Verbesina virginica) which I let grow among the vegetable beds to attract pollinators.

They will not sting unless greatly aggravated. Soon she will burrow into the soil to spend the nights, and eventually will sting and paralyze a grub onto which she will lay her eggs. Although I have not yet seen it, Scoliid wasps are said to fly just a few inches above ground infested with grubs in a loose figure-eight pattern.

As a naturalist, I have a confession to make. Although I don't mind beetles, and I practice kindness towards most insects, their grubs just give me the willies. I would much rather hold a snake than a grub! When I find one in the garden, I use a trowel to toss it onto the path in hopes a bird or chicken will find it for a snack!

To see more of the world up close, visit Macro Monday!

Water Canto

Dear Saint Isadore the Farmer
I don't believe we've met, seeing as how I'm not in your flock
but farmers are a family of sorts, so I thought you might
understand our predicament

The neighbor's new, deep well has so much pressure it keeps bursting hoses--theirs and ours. Farmer Rick repaired ours late the other night and connected it to the pumpkin patch--which we located at the furthest reaches of our property as recommended by permacultural practices, with the assumption they need little tending--HA!

Emily Dickinson said water is taught by thirst
yet our parched land can't seem to command the clouds
and our well is bone dry--nothing down there
but echoes of better times

After adjusting all the spray emitters to the new pressure, I got back to the source and discovered a huge loss of water at the repair site. One inquisitive touch sent parts flying and a geyser of water up my nose, drenching me before I could reach the lever to turn it off. Then, it was off to the tool shed to repair it again.

I thought I'd start with you--
kind to animals, patron saint of farmers and rural communities
--because I like the looks a saint with a shovel
and water springing forth

After completing the mend I had to walk back over to the pumpkin patch and reset all the emitters to yet another pressure. By now the 103 degree temperature has rendered the water in the black irrigation hoses to scalding. It's burning my hands and probably not making the plants too happy to have their thirst answered like this. I feel awful about it, but what can I do?

D.H. Lawrence said water is H2O,
hydrogen two parts, oxygen one, but there is also a third thing,
that makes water and nobody knows what that is
(I believe God knows)

Because of the mineral content that clogs the emitters, each one has to first be turned on full blast to clear the holes, then turned down to reach only the plant roots, no more. But the last one scalds my hand and I inadvertently let go, blowing the emitter cap to the heavens or at least into the surrounding grass where I cannot find it. There is now another geyser and I scramble to turn off that lever.

Who made it follow the path
of least resistance, yet strong enough to carve a canyon
there is a lesson in there somewhere for us
if we would stop to ponder

I go in search of our stash of irrigation parts and do not have another. The nearest one is a three hour round trip away. I apologize to the pumpkins for our lack of preparedness. It is now noon, and I have spent the better half of a day spraying myself in the face while my vegetables are wilting.

Loren Eiseley said if there is magic on this planet,
it is contained in water, but I think it is spirit he's talking about
like the angel of the flower contained in each seed
that brings forth the fruit

I spend another half a day getting the parts, and a few extra. Now a pond from the back pressure begins to form in the neighbors yard where the spigot lives, where this kind gift of water originates from, where their daughter is getting married this weekend. We decide a solution is perhaps to turn down the pressure on her side and up the pressure on my side. This means going back to the pumpkin patch and readjusting all the emitters. It is 104 degrees outside, the water much hotter. Both the plants and I groan accepting the only water we have.

Your prayer is for all Creation
--the fields, the plants, living water, fresh air, all creatures,
love for one another--this has been my prayer, too
we both know the worth of water

If there ever was a time Farmer Rick wanted to talk me in to relocating to a cooler climate, like the one he grew up in, this would be it. I'm frustrated and exhausted, and I can't even find the towel to throw it in. I'm hot, thirsty, sweaty and a magnet for west Texas dirt. I'd like to cry but I don't think I'm hydrated enough to make the tears.

So, I'm throwing some dirt in the well
tierra bendita that came from the Santuario de Chimayo a place of miracles
asking for clouds and rain to keep our well replenished
and our souls succulent

The well service calls to say, no, they can't deepen a hand dug well. Just to get the rig out to dig another shallow well is $4,500, but eight others already called before me and there's no guarantee in this alluvial gravel. All the new wells drilled around us are at 800 feet or $15,000 dollars deep.

And if your compassion can be so moved, Saint Isador the Farmer,
for our fields, plants, and creatures, to drive your spade
we'd be very thankful for the water!

I Say Smut, You Say Truffle

You may be wondering what has become of the crop circle project. I got the corn planted, but never the other sisters: beans and squash (although we have them elsewhere). However, close to 50 tomatoes from incomplete composting (never reaching 140 degrees) came up as the unexpected sister. There you go--more accidental gardening. Next year I suggest we just spread our compost over everything and forget planting.

Farmer Rick just came in telling me some of our Oaxacan Green Dent Corn was exploding open with kernels like long fingers filled with black icky stuff. I had to go check it out.

Sure enough he was not exaggerating. Some of the cobs did indeed look alien with swollen gray kernels...

growing as big as my thumb and as long as fingers...

filled with something looking like chewed up tobacco. Totally gross!!!

We bravely unwrapped a couple of the closed cobs to discover relatively normal looking dent ears in milk stage, but not looking green at all like they should. Maybe dent corn doesn't get it's true color until later?

Anyway, we got ourselves some smut, Corn Smut to be exact! Ustilago maydis, to be exact-er.

It's a pathogenic plant fungus that during times of drought enters the plants ovaries and replaces the normal kernels of the cobs with these large distorted tumors filled with fungal threads and blue-black spores.

Most American farmers destroy the infected plants (um, my thoughts exactly!) but in our neighboring Mexico, it is considered a delicacy! Yup, it's sold in cans called huitlacoche, a Nahuatl (Aztec descendant) word meaning raven's excrement. Mmm, appetizing! ...not! There's been a movement to rename it Mexican Truffle. See how a little marketing can spin something?

As a vegetarian I eat a delicious product called Quorn (suspiciously pronounced Corn) made out of mycoprotein...now I'm beginning to wonder, could there be a connection here?

I don't think I want to find out.

Chocolate's cousin and eat your greens!

Here's a sweet little flower that's in the chocolate family. It's called Mexican Mallow (Hermannia texana) although it's not really a mallow at all. It's an endemic, meaning it's found only in my part of the Hill Country. Actually, I've not seen it anywhere other than my own property. I love the bright orange petals, which never unfurl any farther than pictured, and the way they hang. The seed pod is very sculptural, too.

The flower seems to like the drought, and has proliferated in the short grass prairie, even sending some scouts across the creek into the oak-mesquite savanna. It's very interesting to observe our property divided in half by a creek, where each side has an almost entirely different collection of forbs. A visiting geologist once put forth the theory that the creek is actually a fault line.

We have been reworking our drip irrigation system to even out the pressure between the various gardens. The San Marzano paste and Chadwick cherry tomatoes are laden with green fruit, peanuts are up, and eleven kinds of melons and winter squash have a nice start. We have our first head of cauliflower and the blackberries are starting to ripen. The bok choy has taken a hit in the heat and will soon become salad for our sheep and chickens, but the amazing chard just keeps on keeping on.

I made a delectable dinner the other night for some friends of chard, raisins, and walnuts sauteed in brown butter tossed onto whole wheat linguine, and topped with Parmesan. I think chard has become tied with kale as my favorite vegetable. I am amazed at how few people (or restaurants, for that matter) cook greens which provide so many nutrients. Most people tell me they just don't know how to cook greens. The secret? Wilt them with garlic sauteed in some olive oil.