No matter how much insecticidal soap I sprayed, the aphids came back
stronger than ever. Finally, so frustrated, I stuck the head of our
giant three year old jalapeno out the window, shaking the plant vigorously to
dislodge the aphids and shed the leaves on which they
congregated. Although only outside for a minute,
it was about 10° F, and not thirty minutes later, the remaining leaves had
turned black -like frost-damaged basil. I was ready to toss the whole
deal, but I hesitated. The following day, I pushed the head of the
pepper out the window yet again and pruned the branches hard -all
the way to the woody, tan stems.
This sweet pepper had been pruned hard in December, yet the aphids continue to show up. You can see their shed skins and the stunted condition of its remaining leaves.
About a week ago, the jalapeno's woody stems sprouted vigorously. I had hoped it would do so slowly -those new leaves such easy sucking and still three months before any pepper can be reliably placed outside.
This week, leaves twice as big but still tender, the aphids have returned. I put my ugly, fat thumb in the picture to show how tiny the aphids are. I rely on my camera and macro lens to spot new aphids since my eyes can no longer focus so closely.
Closeup of the three aphids.
It has been warmer than average recently. Although we are far from a Minnesota spring, which typically arrives in May, the warmth brings out a few Asian lady beetles that worked their way into the walls last October. Attracted to the light, they usually make their way to windows, and die. Outside, they wouldn't make it at all, given that nights drop
to the single digits at times.
Aware that predation is the best way to control aphids outdoors and in greenhouses, I haven't been willing to release ladybugs in the house. So when the warmth brought this one to a window near the peppers, I coaxed it onto my hand and then the sweet pepper. The lady beetle is a reluctant helper, it seems to only want to hide, but the following day I didn't observe any aphids and the lady beetle was still on the pepper, alive.
*The 10% Rule is an ecosystem function where energy passed on from one trophic level (position of an organism in the food chain) to the next, only ten percent of the energy is available to the consumer. An example: the pepper plant passes on only ten percent of the energy to the aphid and the aphid only ten percent to the lady beetle who consumes it. To receive the full energy consumed by the aphid, the lady beetle needs to eat a lot of aphids -something for which gardeners should be thankful.
Milkweed growing has been a great success for most of the six (or was it seven?) varieties I sprouted last spring. Doing particularly well is A. incarnata (swamp milkweed), A. verticillata (whorled milkweed), and A. tuberosa (butterfly weed). Take a look at those hardy roots on that sixteen inch tall swamp milkweed. The five inch deep cell trays that were terrible for vegetable starting were great for milkweed because I could leave them to develop strong roots without worry about setting them out too late.
I've planted out in the yard and woods a majority of the plants, and all that remain in cell trays are only unplanted due to the continual and relentless mosquito attack this late summer. We've had a highly unusual, severely wet and humid August and September which has had a deleterious effect on some of our vegetables, our studio building progress, and even our mood. It's even bringing on an early, brown autumn as wet Septembers are prone to instigate.
But enough about that. We did have a couple of dry, sunny days, one of which had me near the greenhouse bed of giant Asclepias syriaca, common milkweed in mid August. The milkweed, leaning from height and heavy rains well into our potato bed needed to be put back in its place. Being milkweed and August, I anticipated finding Monarch caterpillars, but there were none. What I did find, however, is a startlingly rich collection of other insects. Some were feeding on the plants while others were feeding on those feeding on the plants, and still some feeding on the litter of those feeding on the plants.
Black-legged Meadow Katydid.
Possibly a Blue Mud Dauber or maybe even a Steel-blue Cricket Hunter, and of course -an ant.
Mating Lady Beetles -likely the good, bad, and ugly kind otherwise known as Harmonia axyridis because they eat plant pests (good), were introduced by us humans (bad), and enter the house by the thousands in autumn (ugly).
And their offspring meeting an ant.
But what of this offspring, with its yellow coloration, different patterning, black legs, and little or no spines? After much digging, I'm going with the Ash Grey Lady Beetle, Olla v-nigrum -I do recall seeing a wine-colored 15-Spotted Lady Beetle earlier this year, submitted to BugGuide and identified. We'll see what the insect community has to say about this guy.
A Large Milkweed Bug, Oncopeltus fasciatus.
Paper Wasps.
Red ant. Which kind? So many kinds...
Flower Crab Spider
Another kind of flower crab -notice the chunky hind quarter? The females change color to match their surroundings.
Yellow Jacket.
Had I spent even more time I would have found even more creatures; frogs, crickets, grasshoppers, moth larvae (Tussock Moth comes to mind). Check out this good post on the merits of maintaining a balanced ecology of the butterfly garden. Yes, we plant milkweeds for the Monarchs, but nature has its own way and we have ours. It's likely better to let nature take its course while we do what we can to better the circumstances of all living things.
I like the moment when the ant meets the paper wasp.
The monarch caterpillars do not seem to be fond of the old, possibly tough, Common Milkweed near the greenhouse and vegetable garden. No, they were found of a young A. syriaca, the butterfly weed (A. tuberosa) and the Swamp Milkweed (A. incarnata). I prefer the last two, myself, for their nicer flower, form, and spread and so it is that these species, butterfly and plant, are in our flower garden.
It was only a matter of hours between the two photos, above.
Two weeks later, chrysalis still intact, metamorphosis nearly complete, and because it is late in the season, we wait for what some call the "super Monarch" -the one that flies all the way to Mexico and then breeds next year's northerly migrating offspring.
