Not air potatoes — really

Any local would instantly recognize these as air potatoes — but they're not. I'm hoping that they are the native Florida Yam (Dioscorea Floridana) but there is a related species, Wild Yam or 4-leaf yam (D. Villosa) which is native north of here but is reported in Alachua county. I'm not sure how to tell them apart, but I can tell them from air potatoes — I think) — because the petioles (the leaf stems) don't clasp the stem. Also it has rhizomes underground, rather than tubers, but that would require digging them up.

The real proof, of course comes in the fall when they don't have aerial tubers. The problem with this is that if they do get aerial tubers, then it means I should have dug them up before that. Fortunately these are right along the path, just south of the worship in nature area, so if I'm wrong we'll be sure to notice them before they fall.

Not the that there is any shortage of air potatoes. I put up the yellow flag to the right last year to mark some Florida yams, but the thing growing up it is definitely an air potato. As proved by the tuber, now in the trash. Still, there are fewer than last year, and, we hope, more than next year.

Passion Flower

One benefit of taking care of this largely natural area instead of gardening at home is that we can plant something like this Purple Passion Flower (Passiflora incarnata) and not worry about trying to keep it in bounds. It is supposed to be a butterfly host plant, and sure enough, last year it was host to Gulf Fritillary (Agraulis vanillae) caterpillars who ate everything except parts of the stem and then, as far as we could tell, starved to death. Today I noticed two hatches of caterpillars which we think are Zebra Longwings (Heliconius charithonia). I picked off all but one of each hatch, trying to avoid last years fate—of course it may also be that one of those I picked off had been  the only one not destined to end up as bird food.

on Memorials

This afternoon Jean and I attended the burial of Marylynn Hall, who will be much missed.

The ceremony at the gravesite brought to mind Flushing meetinghouse  in the Queens borough of New York City, where I was introduced to Quakerism during the seven years I was at the Rockefeller University in the 1970s. This building was built in 1694 and (except when it was occupied by the British during the Revolutionary War) has been continuously  used as a meetinghouse ever since.  Of course it, like any other house of worship, had its graveyard on the grounds and that graveyard is still there.   It has been a long time since the last internment, but it is not unused - it is still the meetinghouse yard, and children still play there.

Having an operating graveyard behind a meetinghouse is no longer possible, and this is a loss. Even in Flushing, where the gravestones are the only connection between those buried there and the present worshipers, their presence lends a depth to the experience which for me is captured in the phrase which begins the traditional wedding promise:

In the presence of God and these our friends…

We have been discussing what to do about memorials around the new meetinghouse. It has already been minuted that ashes may be buried, in an biodegradable container, anywhere in the unbuildable portion of the lot. That is the easy part (though there may be some question about what is the "unbuildable part" — If building entails a building permit, then I believe that the unbuildable part is that part on which nothing is built). We still need to decide what sort of memorials we will have, and where they will go.  I would hope that they are put someplace where we will, in the normal course of activity, without planning or even expecting it, see them and be reminded. And I hope that they will be outside, where I will associate them with life.

Swamp Dogwood

Jean noticed this flowering tree, which neither of us were familiar with. Phil Buskirk suggested it might be Dogwood, and in fact it seems to be a Swamp Dogwood, Cornus foemina.    It's quite different from Flowering Dogwood, Cornus Florida, that one sees used for landscaping.   This specimen  is west of the worship in nature area, maybe 45 feet back of the bench.

Taro

One benefit of the dry weather we've been having -- I've been able to walk into what we like to think of as our pond and pull out a good deal of the Taro there.   

At one point I had despaired of doing anything about Taro: herbicides roll off it, and digging it just left me muddy, sweaty, and frustrated.     I tried cooking it, in the hopes that it would be  desirable enough to attract help digging it, but after being boiling beyond reason it still numbed my mouth.

Finally have I discovered that if the conditions are right you can pull it, and the tuber will (most of the time) come with it.     The conditions are decidedly not right in places I've gone after it before, but now there's no water in the pond, so I can walk there, and the soil is still damp, so the Taro will come out.   This trash day I have two buckets of Taro tubers in the trash.