Tales from the Microbial Laboratory

~links (for me to remember later)~

oakleaf hydrangea, happy I think

~~~~~

A draft of my landscape plan is due to my architect tomorrow. 

Sitting in front of me is a survey map of my place, with a crazy, plant-obsessed plan scribbled on it.  A formal garden in the front right corner (an oval surrounded by live oaks and camellias and hydrangeas and dogwoods and...), a shady front left corner (with bald cypresses, a large southern magnolia, a river birch and lots of shade plants), a working-woman's side left garden ( lots of sun and beds for vegetables and berries and cut flowers and herbs and figs and...), a rear garden with a split personality (part bamboo-garden and part orchard), and a right rear garden with native azaleas and sweetbay and yellow anise and...oh, there's along list of what also could go back there.  And all of these gardens - the left, the right, the rear - connected by a perennial/mixed-perennial border.

~~~~~

Yes, I'll have to quit my job, forgo all other responsibilities - to even possible do this - but deep down I'm thinking in my deranged brain that...hey, it's possible, sure, I can do it.  And...I think I can.  Most of the plants exist already - there's just alot of work to be done.

~~~~~

And regarding LEED and what they care about:  at least 60% of the acre will NOT be turfgrass.

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SERPIN (Southeastern Rare Plant Information Network) - South Carolina

South Carolina Native Plant Society (along with their excellent links page)

South Carolina Plant Atlas

Coastal DNR Managed Lands

Woodlanders (Aiken, SC)

~a sewee oyster roast~

So, what does any self-respecting Democrat in South Carolina do on Republican Primary Day...you know, something that would allow them to avoid their home phone, where an automated voice saying 'Vote for Huckabee...' is what you hear every other time you pick up your phone?  Well, a good alternative was to join friends at the SeWee Association annual Oyster Roast - a fun event out in my neck-of-the-woods - fun even though it was rainy and muddy and cold - because...how can good food and cold beer and fun music (the Whisperjets - young, really young, but boy were they good, and Occasional Milkshake, always fun to hear) and a good cause ever be a bad thing?  So now I'm home, I'm warm, the polls are closed (so my phone isn't ringing), and you guessed it - I once again avoided eating those oysters.  I am a microbiologist you know.  (But the beer was good and cold - those microorganisms I'm fine with).     

~a november dog swim~

Young Stanley and I did what we needed to do this morning - we joined human and dog friends on Sullivan's Island for a walk.

I always went to Sullivan's with Wood - and while it was sad to be there without her, it felt good to be back on the beach in the sun, a much preferred and quieter beach now that it is November.  Stanley felt compelled to jump into the deepening tidal pool and go for a swim, which I must confess made me hold my breath for a few minutes, until he decided to turn around and head back for the closer shoreline. 

Stanley is now sleeping, still salty and damp.  Ahhhh...dog joy.

2007 Charleston Garden Festival

  It's that weekend again, the weekend of the Charleston Garden Festival at Middleton Place. 

It's more than worth an afternoon, if only to wander the grounds of Middleton Place.  Plus, you get the added benefit of fun plant-minded folks hanging around and artists (last years sculptures were great I thought).

(Confession:  I'm curious to see what they have for the Rare Plant Auction - and whether the plants are really all that rare...it appears that they just might be 'new' and when I think of rare, I don't necessarily think of new at all).

Each year, Jeff and I hang out on the Sunday of the festival with Pete and company at the Pete's Herbs exhibit.  "Hang-out" is relative here for me:  I walk around, Pete and I go find lunch, we discuss what is new and not new at the festival, lust after a plant or two or three (or lets face it, a dozen or more), I always say I won't buy another rose and then I do, I lament how the salvia guy from NC (the self-proclaimed 'Sultan of Salvias') and the SC fern guy (was it the Crow Dog Native Ferns and Gardens guy?  I need to ask Pete) and Jenks Farmer are no longer at the festival and how much I miss them, and even though I think that Roberta's Tropicals stick out at the festival in a tropical sort of way, I am always enamored with what they have and have grown to love my thai ginger and starfire lily that I got from them last year, oh, and Jeff and I generally act beyond silly - and by the end of the day we all agree that spending a day at Middleton Place is wonderful.   

  Last year there was a downpour in the middle of the afternoon - thankfully there were plenty of tents - but our current weekend looks sunny and cooler (low 80s) - perfect.  This year Jeff (of LimeBlue) has close to a hundred of his metal  'lightning bugs' hanging from the trees - those should be fun to see (a 'swarm' of them, compared to my lonely two).

So, tomorrow, Middleton Place.  As for today, my own garden needs some attention.  I have bulbs to plant (Narcissus 'New Baby', Narcissus Poeticus 'Green Pearl', Tulipa humilis 'Alba Coerulea Oculata').  Garlic too.

And there are weeds.  The florida betony is winning.   

~a sunday morning walk with Wood on Sullivans Island~

With Gabrielle to our north, and August in our rear view mirror, I spent the morning out at Sullivan's Island with the ever-perfect (Dog)Wood - her first morning beach walk since The Great Gallbladder Removal Event of early spring.  She was thrilled - and did the ' happy whine' during the drive, which would be horribly annoying except that dog happiness is a contagious kind of happiness (whine and all).  She's now smiling in her sleep and I need to do what I always need to do these days:  pack, mow grass, edit, and panic.  Buds are now beginning to cover the roses, there is new growth on some of the hydrangeas, and the gingers are blooming - and the fall vegetable garden is screaming 'plant me!'. 

But Wood and I thought we'd share our morning walk with you.

              

~a very sweet wallflower~

It's that time of year again, when Charleston artists and celebrity guests contribute pieces for A Furry Affair's silent auction to benefit the John Ancrum Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.  It's held 24 August at the City Gallery at Waterfront Park starting at 6 pm.

This is always a fun event - and the works of art are always interesting and surprising and fun (like Jeff Kopish's painting for this year, de Mur de la Fleur - such a sweet wallflower!) - and it's all for such a good cause.  I missed last years event (I think I was in Vienna) - but rumors are that it was quite a good time. 

I'll be there this year for sure.   

   

a Day of Mourning

Tomorrow has been declared a Day of Mourning for the City of Charleston - at 8 am a processional, complete with approximately 150 fire trucks - will follow a route from downtown Charleston by the site of the fire and by the fire stations of those lost - ending up at the North Charleston Coliseum where tens of thousands are predicted to be present for a memorial service.  It's been a sad week for this community, and while I've thought about rambling on in this space about the bluebird parents, my tomatoes, how my place is getting surveyed tomorrow, and about a grant that was rejected (the latter would be a rant more than a ramble) - my heart just hasn't been in it.  Tomorrow I won't be attending the memorial service.  Instead I'll be giving talks to undergraduates from Claflin University about how exciting microbial ecology is (exciting beyond words...right?).  I'll be thinking about the families though - about how overwhelming all of this must be for them, and hoping that the remarkable community support that is being shown is helping them through these difficult days.  What is it about a trajedy that brings the best in a community to the forefront?  Is there a way to sustain that feeling throughout the following weeks, months, years?  Yes, it's been a sad week here in Charleston - but also remarkable in so many ways.    

bravery

This evening I was thinking about what I could say about the tragic fire that occurred here yesterday evening - about what I could add to everything that has already been said.  I don't really have many words.  The names and photographs of the nine firefighters that perished in the fire have been released.  The list is a sad one to read.  Today has made me reflect on how I have taken firefighters for granted, and it has made me think about the dangers they face routinely.  Would anyone have predicted that a warehouse filled with sofas and chairs could be so deadly?  I know, it's a combination of factors - but the description of the fire, and how quickly it erupted into 'tornados' of flames has been hard to imagine.  But it happened, and the lives of dedicated individuals were lost.  I know that I will try, from here on out, to feel more day-in and day-out gratitude for firefighters and what they do.  It truly is remarkable bravery.

Cypress knees (emerging)

the Edisto River

Last fall, I joined a few friends at the Sewee Association oyster roast - I remember being particularly thrilled that the event was in my neck of the woods, north of Charleston along the coast, in the ever so lovely LA (aka Lower Awendaw).  It was one of those events where one drank beer, ate oysters, drank more beer - you get the general flow of things - and towards the end of the evening, there was a silent auction to benefit the Sewee Association, of which one of our friends was the head kahuna.  So in that spirit of beer-drinking friendship, we managed to bid (and win) just about everything that was offered.   In other words, we'll be kayaking the state of South Carolina for the next year, and there will also be a little parasailing tossed into the mix.  All because of the dangerous combination of really cold beer, oysters, check books at the ready, and a generally exuberant and supportive nature (I would be remiss to not also add that the band members that evening were quite attractive as well...which contributed to the overall 'feel good' spirit of the evening).  So today I joined these same friends for a ten-mile paddle of the Edisto River, which according to Wikipedia is the longest completely undammed blackwater river in North America.  It was an easy trip - the river benefited from recent rains and not much paddling was necessary (except to keep you out of trouble).  So instead of working hard, we got to talk - someone mentioned the recent pieces on NPR (here and here) about the mangroves and corals that are in peril in the Pacific, and about a recent piece on SC ETV about how there are six birds in South Carolina whose numbers are down by 50% (I think someone mentioned that these included bluejays, titmouses, and chicadees - as three of the six - has anyone seen this?), and then I remembered that I was supposed to watch the BBC video on slugs mating (long story, don't ask - but this is worth watching.  And don't laugh).  And besides talking, we got to watch the turtles (which were everywhere), there was one aligator sighting and a few wild turkeys - plus one of the brilliant yellow warblers (I can't distinguish them), a bunch of kingfishers, swallows (I really think they were purple martins), a Louisiana heron, and a Mississippi kite was even spotted overhead as we were packing up.  But the beauty of this river is in it's waters - the dark water reflecting the cypresses and tupelos, with river willows and birches falling from the banks on ocassion - it's a river where you can be kept plenty busy just looking down, at the reflections that in themselves make the trip worth every stroke of the paddle.

Sunday morning update:  Here's the National Audubon site that discusses 'Common Birds in Decline' (with a list of the 20 birds in decline) and The State's article on the same subject.