This past Monday morning I sat outside on the patio for about an hour. It was already 84 degrees at 8:30, but the patio stays shady until midmorning. And even though it was humid at that hour, a light breeze kept things comfortable.
I read and I wrote, but mostly just enjoyed being outside. As I gradually slowed down to the pace of nature, I was content to sit and watch the birds coming to the feeders, feel the breeze, and tune into the faint hum of a lawn mower in the distance.
Two things stood out as notable. One was proving to myself that I didn’t have to be scared off by a scorching weather forecast. (I actually sat out on the patio every morning of the heat wave.) The other was that there were no mosquitoes bothering me. Usually by this time of year the zebra mosquitoes (Aedes albopictus) are out all day and in the short time it takes me to walk to the compost bin and back—and maybe stop to pull a few weeds—I’ll collect six or seven bites. Normally I wouldn’t be sitting outside unless I was dressed in long pants and sleeves and sprayed with repellant.
I don’t think it’s the basil and rosemary plants at the edge of the patio that are keeping the mosquitoes away. It’s the same wherever I am in the yard. I’m not complaining, just curious. And I wonder if others in our area are experiencing the same thing. I thought we’ve had enough rainfall to support mosquito breeding by this time, though we had some extended cool weather that might be delaying the onset.
The dog days of summer are still ahead
The upper 90s to 100-degree days got me thinking about the dog days of summer: do we use that term whenever the weather gets really, really hot or is it date-specific? I learned that it was the ancient Romans who named this weather occurrence and that it has nothing to do with dogs panting excessively in summertime heat. It has to do with astronomy.
The star the ancients called “Sirius” is also known as the “dog star,” the brightest star in the constellation Canis Major (“bigger dog”) and also the brightest star in the night sky. Back in the day, during the hottest months of summer (early July to early September) Sirius rose with the sun. It was believed that the star was therefore responsible for the increase in temperature. The Romans dubbed this period “dies caniculares”—days of the dog star—eventually translated to simply “dog days.”
To water or not?
Anise hyssop (Agastache foeniculum) a plant native to Canada and the upper central U.S., thrives in full sun, which is generally regarded as 6 – 8 hours a day). So why were my plants wilting midday this week? Were they sick? Not getting enough water? Was it too hot?
I remembered that if plants flag in the middle of the day, it’s likely their natural response to heat kicking in, a way to conserve energy and the moisture they do have. While they are in that state, it’s best to resist watering them. I held off and, sure enough, as the afternoon shade moved across the garden, the plants stood up tall again.
Pointing the finger
All spring I thought that it was deer that were chomping the turtlehead plants and the black-eyed Susans—not a flower bud to be seen anywhere. By a chance sighting I discovered that it’s the woodchuck, the one that has a den under our garden shed, that’s been feasting on these plants. I had planted these for their flowers not their foliage, but it looks like greenery is all that we’ll be getting from them this year.
Pam Baxter is an avid organic vegetable gardener who lives in Kimberton. Direct e-mail to pamelacbaxter@gmail.com, or send mail to P.O. Box 80, Kimberton, PA 19442. Pam’s latest book, Listening to Nature’s Voice, is available on Amazon. For more information or to sign up for her newsletter, visit her website: pamelabaxterbooks.com.
Source: Berkshire mont
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