The Forgotten Territory

We have lived here for almost 14 years now and we have largely ignored this ravine that becomes a riparian zone during the spring and fall rains. There are huge amounts of water that flow through this carved-out valley where we have just let nature do its thing. Yesterday, with snow on the ground, Bob decided to take me on a tour. The ravine runs about 40' to 65' wide in various areas and about 660' long - approximately .6 acres. 

Since I had never explored this part of our property, it was like entering a secret, magical kingdom. Our two owls - the Great Horned Owl and the Barred Owl, frequently take refuge from the crows in the trees that have managed to survive here. As we walked though, my excitement of sneaking through a new magical forest quickly turned to dismay. We found the mother-lode source of the invasive Japanese honeysuckle problems we've been having. As well as the likely 'mother' green-briar plants that are producing all the berries that the birds are planting all over the property. While green-briar is native, it can still be viciously wicked with all its sharp spines.

Today, since the weather was still cold and the ground still frozen, we decided to go in armed with a hatchet, limb cutters, trimmers and other tools and make a brutal assault on the honeysuckle. In this corridor, the green-briar and the honeysuckle have apparently teamed up to support each other and this is going to be a brute force project to remove it all.

To the south- that is currently a 'no-fly' zone, as the still-green honeysuckle is intertwined with the multi-flora rose and I just didn't have the energy to go that way.

So, let's head north.

 We cut all the vines at the bottom - it was disappointing how many trees the honeysuckle has already strangled here. For some, the thick mats of honeysuckle vines and the canopy of leaves they created over the top of the trees proved too much and a lot of the trees had succumbed. We didn't bother pulling the vines down (yet). It was enough to know that we've exacted a toll on them for now.

It was bewildering at times to even know where to begin.

We think this is either an ash or a cherry tree, with an almost equal-sized vine of poison ivy growing up the trunk. Can you spot the poison ivy?

 

See the picture below - the poison ivy is outlined with the white box. Unbelievable. Well, given my reaction to poison ivy...it can stay. For now.

This looks like something from an Indiana Jones movie. Or maybe a Tarzan movie. I'm hoping that we killed vast swathes of honeysuckle that is choking out the canopy above by cutting these off.

I think I need a machete.

One example of how the Green-briar and honeysuckle have teamed up against me. I swear they know I'm coming; they tense up and when I cut them, they snap and fly by my face ...as if that would stop me.

We have other projects that we haven't finished yet, and I'm trying hard not to be distracted by this new issue. But, if you want to relieve your stress, whacking your way through this kind of mess is one way to do it. We still have more to do in here, but at least now we have a passable path through. At some point, we will get to do the fun part - figuring out which native plants we can use to restore this area.

I'm usually not someone to cry 'UNCLE', but we may have to call in reinforcements for the rest of this. 

Dear Prairie - While You Were Sleeping

Winter is our time for burning, planning, planting and clearing even more areas to prepare them for the native plantings of forbes and grasses. With over 23 acres of soil available, we have an endless canvas where we can plant and then later, enjoy the summer blooming parties that result from so many varieties of plants.

Each fall, as all the trees are starting to shake off their summer leaves and the flowers are starting to make seeds, I start visiting the Hamilton Native Seed and Missouri Wildflowers websites and perusing their catalogs. This year, I found a new educational resource - I signed myself up for the Missouri Prairie Foundation's webinars via Zoom and yowza, are they fantastic! With Covid-19 lockdown and winter encroaching, now's the time for me to educate myself, read everything I can and discover new planting opportunities so we can provide more diversity in our native plantings. Thanks to MPF and Missouri Wildflowers, this year we decided to try something new - we now have over 40 new shrubs planted - wild hydrangea, ninebark, and witch hazel planted & hunkered down under leaf-mulch...waiting to spring their beautiful flowers on us this spring.

And thanks to Hamilton Seed and my own seed-gathering techniques (which consists of one step -  outrun the birds), I have over 4 oz. of a variety of coneflower seeds (at 7,000 seeds/oz., I'm pretty proud of myself!) and almost 1 full pound of my full-sun native wildflower mix too (see the hand-written labels on the bags in the picture below). These orders I make are my Christmas presents to myself...thousands of wildflower seeds. Thousands...maybe millions. Gazillions...all to be planted this winter.

This is another quarter-acre area that we cleared - where one bag of the above wildflower seeds has already been spread. And it's right outside my home-office window!

We've also started tackling the non-native Japanese honeysuckle. Ugggh, what a pain it is. Below is a picture of a sprout (probably Sumac) that finally gave up. The honeysuckle had wrapped itself so tightly around the trunk that it created these permanent twists in the trunk. Behold the strength and the impact of the non-native, for they are indeed impressive, but now, we need to rip it out.

I love winter, almost as much as I love fall. I can walk all the trails, even when covered with ice or snow and not be attacked by chiggers or ticks. It's a time when I can see everything from a different perspective. The ice-laden branches of the sandbar willows create their own beautiful reflections over the pond.

The cedar trees whine about the ice & cold as their branches droop, threatening to snap off, as the surrounding Sassafras and Ash trees stand tall and proud, bragging that their branches stand UP to such brutal weather, while simultaneously laughing at their sagging evergreen neighbors.

As I walked yesterday, I recalled the pictures I took this past summer and thought it would be fun to compare the summer versus winter pictures from the same perspective. Winter is part of their normal cycle - the plants take time to rest, the soil re-saturates from the rainfall & snow (measured in feet here in the fall, winter & spring), the ground heaves and contracts to absorb the seeds dropped by all the plants and the seeds that need it, as they are stratified, in preparation for growing a new plant in the spring. It is a time to shake off the past year, renew and change things - to try again to do better in the New Year.

The Sandbar willows on the pond:

Winter:

 

Summer

 

The Goldenrod and Indian Grass - Winter:

 

 The same patch this past August / September:

The West Trail around the pond, Winter:

 

The same West Trail, this past August / September:

   Part of the prairie, Winter:

The same part of the prairie was rioting this summer in June & July with coneflowers, prairie blazing start, Wild quinine, compass plant, etc.:

To some, this winter perspective may look like quite the dreary landscape. But for me, this landscape it quite exciting and holds a lot of secrets that will be revealed in the spring. 

Rest & renew, Dear Prairie. Bob and I have been busy this winter, so make sure you say, "Hello" to your new neighbors this Spring and let them know how much you love your happy home here on Gobbler's Knob.