Purslane and Portulaca

I’ve grown to accept that some invasive plants (aka: weeds) are not so bad. I’m still on the fence with purslane (Portulaca oleracea), a prostrate spreading succulent that can take over entire flower beds.

portulaca flower
Ornamental portulaca from the same family as purslane. Note the ornamental’s thinner, needle-like leaves.

Weed or edible?

Purslane can grow in pavement, between rocks, and in moist conditions. It spreads from seed or from pieces of stems. And a purslane can have more than 50,000 seeds per plant. It re-roots after being hoed. That’s a weed, right? Still, many value purslane because it is edible. But in my mind, if the plant interferes with the objectives in managing a lawn or garden, it’s a weed. And since mats of purslane suck moisture and nutrients from soil and even shade soil from sun as they spread, they’re pretty much weeds in my book. That’s especially true in a vegetable garden, where I don’t want a weed competing for precious water.

purslane weed
Purslane taking over a rock garden. It’s best to pull it up before it gets this big, whether you eat it or throw it out.

Purslane was grown in India originally and provided nutrition and reported health benefits. Those who eat purslane have described its taste as lemony or similar to spinach. And the plant tastes best if “harvested” while its fleshy leaves still are young. So one way to eradicate common purslane where you don’t like it is to follow the philosophy “If you can’t beat ‘em, eat ‘em.”

You can spot common purslane as a small seedling with reddish-tinged leaves that form flat against the ground and spread out like spokes in a wheel. Pull it up before it sets seed to avoid having an entire bed full of the weed the next year. Not sure a weed is purslane? Check out these photos of seedlings and other stages of purslane from Missouri State University.

Ornamental value

Even common purslane can be pretty. The fleshy leaves contrast nicely with tiny, usually orange, flowers. And I bought one years ago before I knew better. I paid for that, because the plant came back with a vengeance, choking out other plants in a tiny rock garden. So if you choose to actually plant purslane as an edible, just beware that you’re introducing the seeds to your landscape.

heat loving drought tolerant portulaca
Portulaca is a great container plant. Use one color or mix many. The plant spreads and cascades slightly over the edge.

A better alternative is an ornamental portulaca such as P. grandiflora. You can tell an ornamental portulaca from a purslane by its leaves. Ornamental portulaca, often called moss rose, has more needle-like leaves than purslane foliage. The flowers also are showier, often looking either like a cactus bloom or a tiny carnation or rose. The best part? They love sun and heat, are highly drought tolerant, and will spread in warm climates to make an interesting groundcover. They’re also a perfect container plant, especially if you buy a mix of colors, which warm-climate nurseries usually carry. Both purslane and portulaca bloom in the morning after the sun has been up a few hours, and close later in the day.

Portulaca just planted in the ground. I hope they will cascade over these rocks and pavers and re-seed next year.
Portulaca just planted in the ground. I hope they will cascade over these rocks and pavers and re-seed next year.

Caring for portulacas

Portulaca is an annual, but can re-seed. Although not nearly as invasive as its purslane relative, an ornamental portulaca often pops up somewhere in the landscape. But to me, it’s a happy surprise. The easy-care, drought tolerant annual is welcome in our garden any time temperatures begin to warm up in early summer.

portulaca in hanging baskets
Portulaca actually do better with sun and heat, but who would have thought it would be 40 degrees F in mid-May? I can’t wait for these containers at the back of our garden to fill in.

Portulaca will keep blooming and spreading into fall, provided you do one thing: pinch off spent blooms. If you let most of the faded blooms remain on the stem, the plant can become leggy, plus it won’t bloom as often. The equivalent of deadheading this annual is so simple; just pinch the blooms off into your hand after they have closed up and begun to look withered. If the flower resists, wait a day. You’ll soon recognize the difference between a bud and a spent bloom.

portulaca and cactus
This portulaca re-seeded in some soil we repurposed for one of Tim’s cacti. It just goes to show how little water they need! You can see the bloom stages really well in this photo. A tiny dried-up flower peeks from behind the bloom; it’s ready to pinch off! Two new buds are a little lower on either side of the stem. And a faded bloom, nearly ready to pinch, lies at the lower right.

And if you want to pinch your portulaca while eating a salad with purslane leaves, that’s up to you. Just be armed with new recipes to cook up all of your purslane in years that follow.

One Gardener’s Weed… or Cover Crop?

I’ve been thinking about weeds and wildflowers a lot this week, probably because I spotted my first field bindweed in a gravel path. But it’s also because I’m thinking about spring flowers, pollinators and soil.

alyssum weed wildflower
Last year’s “crop” of yellow alyssum. Pretty but a little scary.

In past posts, I’ve described the stages of “acceptance” we’ve gone through with the yellow alyssum that pretty much blankets our property. In brief: The alyssum is good because it attracts bees – hundreds of them. And it’s pretty, creating a sort of spring meadow. But it’s bad too. With a deep tap root, the weed/wildflower, (a member of the Brassica, or mustard, family) likely steals water and some nutrients from the grass or garden plants.

Following an excellent Twitter chat on nitrogen fixers (#groundchat led by @CristinaGardens; also on Facebook), I decided to check again whether alyssum helps or hurts soil. It turns out that yellow alyssum does not fix nitrogen, but has a role in recycling the nutrient. It can help smother weeds, but then is it smothering or delaying grass? Yes, it threatens native grasses, according to the Colorado State extension office. And in a xeric garden, I don’t want a plant that robs vegetables or perennials of precious water.

sweet alyssum new mexico
This alyssum against an old tree trunk looks like we planted it intentionally.

Then I found an article saying that the long tap roots on our yellow alyssum (and presumably mustard weed) help till or break up soil with their long taproots. They also bring nitrogen back up to the surface. Shouldn’t that be good for grass? Alyssum helps in some areas when planted as a cover crop following a nitrogen-rich legume.

Further, when the roots decompose, they add organic matter. So, I’m back to accepting alyssum for these bonus qualities, but mostly because we’ll never win.

green beans on vine
Green beans add a little nitrogen, but most of the nutrient goes into producing fruit. And that’s OK with me.

Let’s go back to the nitrogen fixers for a minute. Plants need nitrogen to survive. How much a given plant needs varies, but it’s safe to say that nitrogen is an essential plant nutrient. Many gardeners who use fertilizers know this; the N in formulas represents nitrogen. But why apply a synthetic fertilizer to crops or a garden when you can harvest nitrogen with plants that do the work? It’s the organic approach to soil improvement that’s really catching on with farmers. Hurrah!

red clover blossom
Bloom of a red clover. Image courtesy of the National Park Service.

Examples of nitrogen fixers are hairy vetch, annual wheat grass or ryegrass, and legumes, including clover. Wait, what? I’ve always considered clover invasive. And during the chat, I received an excellent link to an article about sweet clover. Looks like clover is to many gardeners and farmers what sweet alyssum is to us – good or bad, invasive or not. It all depends on your conditions. Further, conditions that favor a particular weed or wildflower can change slightly from one year to the next. Red clover is a potential nitrogen fixer in New Mexico.

sweet peas near river
Sweet pea is a legume and natural nitrogen fixer. It also can become invasive, but it’s a pretty surprise growing along the Rio Ruidoso.

And that’s why it’s all relative. I love learning from social media, and learned a lot the other day. But when choosing plants, especially for a large area such as a meadow or field, it’s always best to check with local extension agents or their publications. Otherwise, gardeners in New Mexico would never plant butterfly bush (Buddleia), which is not invasive here, and a gorgeous xeric choice. And they might go a little wild with the sweet alyssum or horehound, which are terrific additions to gardens in some areas, but can take over a New Mexico lawn.

Favorite Green: Arugula, Even the Wild Ones

Arugula, with its bitter flavor, is considered a gourmet green by many and way too bitter by some (namely, my husband). But the green is one of my favorites, partly for the flavor and partly because it’s so easy to grow in containers or in our high desert garden. It also grows wild around our property!

Wild arugula growing in a patch in the orchard. I just want to reach down and eat those bitter leaves!
Wild arugula growing in a patch in the orchard. I just want to reach down and munch on those yummy bitter leaves!

Maybe arugula grows so well here in New Mexico because the plant is native to the Mediterranean. We don’t water the wild bunches that grow near our house or out in our orchard, and I have no idea how they came to be there. I just know that I kept getting a whiff of arugula when mowing in certain portions of the lawn. This year, conditions were such that I was able to spot the leaves and have a bite. By late summer, the yellow flowers followed and I have asked Tim to join me in not mowing a few bunches. I prefer to grow a milder variety for my salads, but I like having the wild plants around for their scent and appearance. And there are much worse plants spreading in our yard than these tasty greens!

The wild bunches later flowered, making them pretty to smell and look at.
The wild bunches later flowered, making them pretty to smell and look at.

The taste of arugula is strong, but I love to add it to spinach or mesclun mixes, or really any greens. In fact, traditional and tangy mesclun mixes usually include arugula. The green is particularly good with blue cheese dressing and can spice up a chicken or turkey sandwich!

A single leaf of Astro Organic arugula. Image courtesy of the National Garden Bureau.
A single leaf of Astro Organic arugula. Image courtesy of the National Garden Bureau.

Baby arugula is harvested when the leaves are younger, and offers a milder flavor than mature plants. Like most greens, arugula grows best in your garden in cooler spring or fall weather. You can typically harvest the greens within 4 weeks. And if you let it go to flower, the flavor might become too intense. Most garden varieties of arugula have edible, attractive white flowers with purple veining. The wild variety has yellow flowers.

Arugula in our garden in early summer. It's best to cut from the outside. I also plan to cover it a little longer this year to keep bugs off.
Arugula in our garden in early summer. It’s best to cut from the outside. I plan to cover the young plants a little longer next year to keep bugs off.

Arugula also is called rocket or rocket salad. Some people use arugula more as an herb, sprinkling it sparingly on dishes for the peppery flavor. All fresh greens are healthy, but apparently arugula is packed with vitamins and antioxidants. To me, it’s packed with flavor and aroma!

Learn more about growing arugula in your garden in this article from Bonnie Plants, and check out Johnny’s Seeds for several varieties of wild arugula.

Favorite New Garden Tool: Oscillating Hoe

I fell in love with a new garden helper this weekend, but my husband knows! The sun came out after a week of clouds and rain, which is so unusual for New Mexico. We headed straight outside and I tried out my new oscillating hoe.

There are so many different types of hoes, and I credit a neighbor who hosts a community garden with first showing me this type of hoe. It’s also called the stirrup hoe because of its shape, rounded on the top and sides, with a flat, rectangular bottom blade that’s sharp on both sides. And I’m so happy to add this workhorse to our stable of garden tools.

oscillating hoe in garden bed
The head of the oscillating hoe under a perennial in need of help.

The rain encouraged growth of several grasses in our rock garden beds. Naturally, much of the growth occurred in beds we’ve hand-weeded at least once this year. I have little time or patience to weed entire beds by hand, and try to save the most manual of work for times when it makes most sense: while I’m watering vegetables and have to stay put, in rocky borders and gravel pathways or down inside plants.

The oscillating hoe required no patience. In fact, it thrilled me with its efficiency! First, I’ll describe a few types of common hoes so I can explain why I love this one so much.

Common types of garden hoes

I’m actually amazed at how many different types of hoes are available to gardeners, and I think selection usually is a matter of personal choice and garden task at hand. Here are just a few:

three types of garden hoes
On the left is our old, worn traditional hoe. My grubbing hoe, with a slightly lighter weight, is in center. The new oscillating hoe is on the right. It’s already dirty, a good sign.
  • Traditional hoe. Also called a nursery hoe or American hoe, it typically has a square to rectangular welded steel blade at 90 degrees to the end of a wooden handle. This is the classic, old-fashioned garden hoe that’s designed to move soil and remove weeds. I have trouble wielding our old one because it feels like it will break if I chop with it. But it works well for forming wells, and Tim is particularly good at moving, forming and mounding soil with both sides of the blade. The newer nursery hoes are a little stronger than our old one and might be sufficient if you can only have one garden hoe.
  • Grubbing hoe. Grubbing hoes are heavy-duty tools for digging deeper and chopping off weeds with tap roots or other big jobs, such as digging up or chopping roots of elm trees that crop up along fence lines (and just about everywhere else). Most have shorter handles than other hoes so you can swing them sort of like a pickax or even over your head. Many, such as the Mattock hoe that we have, include a sharp blade like a pickax for prying up rocks or getting into tight corners. We’ve also used the sharp edge to dig shallow trenches for trellis fence lines.
  • Oscillating and stirrup hoe. The oscillating hoe is not as heavy as a grubbing hoe and more versatile than a standard American hoe. With the double sharpened edge on a blade that rotates slightly at the bottom of the handle, the oscillating hoe works best when you push and pull it, sort of like using a paint roller on a floor or mopping in front of you. A circle hoe is similar, but the oscillating hoe has the stirrup shape, plus a movable blade, which gives you that effective back-and-forth motion. Check out the action on my short video on Twitter (@TeresaOdle) or on Instagram (tntodle).
  • Other types of hoes vary based in blade shape or purpose. For example, there are hoes made mostly for pushing. And a collinear hoe, which might be the only one I still covet, has a thin blade about 7 inches long, and you can stand up straight and draw it between crops to quickly pull out small weeds.

Weeds and cultivates

The oscillating hoe I got from Corona really does such a great job that I believe I can hold off on the collinear hoe, however. Mine has a 6-inch blade, and the height, or profile, of the hoe is such that I was able to work around or under several prized perennials without worrying about damaging the plants. Plus, the stirrup assembly that holds the blade is rounded, well, like a stirrup, so it won’t cut from above. Best of all, these hoes work quickly to remove small weeds and grasses, which are the worst weeds of all to pull by hand. And I’m all about efficiency!

before photos of grass in rock bed
Before photo: I had used the hoe to remove small weeds. And that’s the best time. Now I would try it on longer, thicker grass to try to uncover that hidden Pawnee buttes sand cherry.

I also soon noticed that my oscillating hoe was cultivating the top layer of soil as I weeded. So instead of pulling up large clumps of important soil with grass roots when I dig, grub hoe or hand weed, I was able to keep soil in the beds and also loosen it. Compacted soil doesn’t let water access the plant’s roots as it should, so I was helping the plants at the same time. Granted, some of the soil that was badly compacted needs more organic matter. That’s next, and it’s another reason why I loved using the tool to quickly remove those small weeds. Mulching several of these plants or beds, or adding organic matter to soil are projects on our fall and winter gardening to-do list; I want the beds as clear of weeds as possible before the next step.

bed after use of oscillating hoe
After photo: It took little time to remove the grass with the oscillating hoe. And I loosened the compacted soil. Next step is to mulch the bed and save the gopher-attacked sand cherry.

Improves ergonomics

Saving time is one thing for busy gardeners like me. We have several garden areas and a few acres to manage, so I’m beyond thrilled to learn how much more quickly I can clean up some of our worst ornamental beds, and especially how much time the tool will save in the vegetable garden. But the other part I loved about Corona’s oscillating hoe was its ergonomic value.

Corona-oscillating-hoe
The 6-inch blade covers a lot of ground, but the aluminum pole and rubber handle make this a lightweight and comfortable garden tool.

I can swing a grub hoe, but my middle-aged back can’t take it for long. And bending or squatting for long periods of time to weed by hand is not much fun either. An oscillating hoe takes a lot of the backbreaking aspect out of gardening, but still gives me a little bit of a workout, so it’s perfect. The Corona hoe we selected is made of lightweight aluminum, so it’s plenty easy to carry, push, pull and even raise up for some serious whacking when needed!

Disclosure: We won a drawing for the choice of some free tools from Corona after visiting their booth at the Garden Writers Association meeting in Pasadena last month. And although we truly appreciate our luck and Corona’s ongoing support of the organization, winning did not compel me to write about the company’s products. Nor did Corona ask me to do so. I really love this tool!

Another Take on Weeds and Wildflowers

This morning’s news had a feature with a great perspective on the weeds vs. wildflower debate that rages in my mind and in the mind of anyone with acreage. Or with a garden, for that matter.

mullein-flowers-weed
This mullein looks so pretty near the trunk of this old tree, but don’t let it fool you. It can be an invasive weed, and don’t get me started on the horehound to the lower right.

CBS news correspondent Steve Hartman is turning several acres of land into a prairie wildflower meadow and taking it one day at a time. It’s a great story and one that makes you appreciate nature, wildflowers and persistence.

I’m not sure if I have the patience to do what Hartman is attempting. What’s more, annual rainfall in the Catskills is closer to 40 inches, at least double what we get here. Of course, as long as a landowner chooses native wildflower seeds, it shouldn’t matter too much. There are plenty of widlflowers that reseed in the Southwest easily, even growing along dry, graveled roadways or out of rocky mountainsides. If you purchase a native grass or wildflower mix, it should give a weed percentage. Make sure it’s as low as possible.

We have started throwing seed heads into an area we call “the pit,” a dug-out portion of our property that we believe once served as a vegetable garden. It’s our place for weed piles and wheel barrow storage now. But we thought instead of throwing out deadheaded flowers, we’d scatter them there. If that experiment works, who knows?  But I don’t think I can try what Hartman is doing until we control the weeds already growing among the wildflowers and get a better handle on deciding which are too invasive to keep and which could populate a mini-meadow.

weeds and wildflowers in sunken pit of yard
The pit, where we planted sunflowers that either didn’t make it or got eaten, but some volunteers came up. This might someday make a great sunken wildflower meadow.

For now, good for him, his purpose and his meditative state. I hope to achieve it while weeding this week.

How To Identify Weeds in Your Garden

Identifying weeds might not rank up there with ridding the garden of the invaders, but it often drives me mad when I can’t identify a weed. It’s more important to know a weed from a desired plant or wildflower, so you know whether to leave it alone or destroy it before it spawns and takes over your garden.

So, how can you tell a weed from a flower? Here’s a definition I received from a weed scientist with New Mexico State University in their master gardener training materials: “A weed is any plant that interferes with the management objectives for a particular site or situation.” That’s actually a brilliant definition (must be because he is an expert). Here’s why:

One gardener’s weed is another gardener’s favorite fauna, but with some caveats. In other words, if you love dandelion flowers and want to leave them in your garden, then maybe dandelions are not a weed. If you leave purslane to grow because it’s an edible weed (as are parts of the dandelion), then more power to you. But if the purslane begins to cover your thyme or the dandelion chokes out the small area of grass you have in your lawn, do you shift them into the “Weed” column?

mexican hat
Mexican hat (Ratibida columnifera) seeds all over our garden. It’s a fun summer flower, but was recently host to what looked like baby cucumber beetles. It also grows tall and blocks sun and air from getting to nearby plants. I pulled a bunch of them.

Another way to look at it is to peg a weed according to some criteria set by the Weed Science Society of America. According to their site, weeds have common characteristics, including:

  • Production of way more seeds than normal – up to tens of thousands from a single plant.
weed seeds in garden
No, we didn’t scatter feathers on the ground. Those are weed seeds, in a bed we worked on at least twice. There’s also an elm tree sprouting — extra credit if you spot it.
  • Long survival time for seeds, which can remain dormant in soil until just the right weather or other condition triggers growth.
  • Rapid establishment (yes, they really can crop up nearly overnight).
  • Mechanisms that support easy spread.
  • Ability to grow in places where other plants can’t, such as between rocks or in poor, dry soil.
field bindweed
Field bindweed, aka wild morning glory. Sure, give it a pretty, regular name. It grows anywhere, and especially loves rocks AND rose trunks so it can hide before it chokes the life out of the poor rose.

If you look at the one attribute that all of the points above have in common, it’s this: survival. I can’t count how many times we’ve sowed some flower or vegetable seed at just the right depth, watered it regularly and checked daily. Nothing. But weeds – they keep returning for encores, even when you try to destroy them!

Aside from persistence, the ability to outcompete nearly any plant and your best efforts to remove it, there are a few other ways to tell  a weed from a regular plant when you’re examining it in your garden. For example, the characteristics that help weeds spread their seeds might show in their appearance. Hooks, spines and stickers make them harder to pull. And some have adapted attractive flowers to fool gardeners. A tap root often is a sign of a weed, or at least a plant’s survivability. You can pull and pull, but if you break the root off, it comes back and is somehow stronger than ever. Rhizomes or stolons also help weeds spread just underground, especially grassy weeds. And some weeds have asexual properties so that they can reproduce plenty of new plants with no floral fertilization.

dandelion in gravel
Dandelions have telltale spiny leaves, a tap root and lots of seeds after flowering.

In short, if a plant is wrapping around another plant, cropping up on, under or around a plant so that it affects your desired plant’s ability to use sun and water, call it a weed. We have some gorgeous volunteer wildflowers that come up each year in our garden, but we don’t keep all of them. If they crowd out another plant or cause so much shade around roots that a rose gets fungal during the monsoon season, they’ve got to go. I’ll keep a few of them, which means I’ll have to thin again in the future. But I won’t call them a weed.

I’ll post some of the worst New Mexico offenders in the future. For now, if you need help identifying weeds, check out the tool and external links under the WSSA’s Weeds section on their menu. I’ve also posted some new links on my Resources page.

Social Media Memes: Gardening Fact or Fiction?

Call me a skeptic. It’s OK, because I am one. I always have been. And I prefer to investigate claims, especially those I see on television or social media. The more often I see a social media gardening claim, the less likely I am to believe its validity.

When I write posts for Gardening in a Drought, I use my personal experience, master gardener training and lots of other sources – books I value and credible websites. If I’m uncertain about a site’s credibility, I always try to verify the information. And most of the information I rely on comes from university extension offices. They’re the source for research-based advice for farmers and homeowners. When it comes to growing food in particular, I’ll take research over pins and “likes” any day of the week.

Don’t get me wrong – I love social media platforms! But I use social media to generate ideas and avenues I want to explore. I don’t consider a post or pin originated by a virtual stranger to be the expert word, the final say. And even posts and pins from more credible sources can be problematic. For example, an article might tout the “Best perennials for shade,” but have its origin in a Georgia newspaper. The rainfall and soil in Georgia differ markedly from here in New Mexico. I need a list a little more specific to my conditions. And that’s just one of the problems I have with some of the social media memes and myths. Here are a few examples:

Epsom salt

This is the biggest meme of all. When my husband and I discussed that the entire Epsom salt craze must have been started by savvy Epsom salt marketers, I felt ashamed, as if my jaded skepticism had reached a new low. And then I just felt vindicated (so much sweeter). First, I found a pin touting the miracle “salt,” which is really a mix of mostly magnesium and sulphur for soaking feet, as a way to make “all of your blooms more vibrant, healthier, greener, thicker, etc…” Can I just add an editor’s aside here? There is hyperbole, and then there are errors in use of adjectives. Well, I guess it is an error only if you have a bloom color other than green. And right now, I cannot think of a plant with green blooms…

OK, sorry. The pin to which I referred linked to … you guessed it … a company that sells Epsom salt. And the product now lines the walls of the local Walmart when you walk inside. What a racket! I have decided to begin touting the benefits of yellow alyssum seeds “to make tomatoes juicier, redder, rounder and larger.” I could make them greener too, I guess.

bag of Epsom salt
Tim bought a bag of the salts to try to help get rid of some tree stumps. It didn’t really help, and I kept thinking: How could something that kills tree stumps be good for tomatoes?

Anyway, the truth is this: Epsom salts really do nothing for any plant or soil in your garden (link to my Resources page for a few sources). If you have super-acidic soil, which is uncommon anyway, it would be better to amend the soil with dolomitic lime than with Epsom salt. And it certainly is not the way to go in New Mexico, where soil tends to be alkaline. In fact, Epsom salt can do more harm than good.

Household vinegar kills weeds

I’m guilty of picking up on the household vinegar meme. And even household vinegar can weaken weeds to some extent. But the truth is, for vinegar to be truly effective on weeds, it needs to be 20 percent acetic acid. This is not your typical household white or apple cider vinegar.

What you need to really achieve control is the higher concentration acetic acid vinegar solution that is approved for use as an herbicide. It is available commercially in some formulas and from certain local or state agencies. We filled about 10 gallon-jugs at the Upper Hondo Soil and Water Conservation District office a few weeks ago and used their formula to mix it with water and dish soap.

For the most part, the acetic acid weakened, or at least stopped the growth of, many weeds. It’s not selective, however, so if you target a dandelion in the grass, you get dead, brown grass around it if in the spray. In addition, vinegar isn’t a systemic herbicide; in other words, it kills leaves but doesn’t work down to the roots. But I think the acetic acid solution can work well in gravel walkways and along rock walls or paver edges, the areas where grass and weeds poke through. Spray on a warm, sunny day and repeat again as needed. If you want to try the household vinegar on small weeds, you might have some success, but it’s probably better mixed with baking soda as a cleanser!

weed killed by acetic acid
The acetic acid formula really did destroy or weaken some weeds, but notice the bindweed peeking into the frame. Of course, I am not sure if anything can kill bindweed.

Use of corn meal to stop weeds from geminating is another myth based on a similar, but commercial product. The bottom line? Take social media advice with a grain of, well, salt. And always check to see if it’s accurate and pertinent for your garden soil and climate. Your best sources are local master gardeners and extension offices, or the best gardeners on your block!

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly: Weed or Wildflower, Part 2

Nearly a year ago (in May 2014), I wrote a post about the fine line between weeds and wildflowers. The gist of the rant was that our rock garden and entire property was being invaded by a lovely flower called yellow alyssum (Alyssum alyssoides). It’s a little earlier in the spring, and even yellower!

First, the good. If you love early, yellow blooms, this is a pretty little flower. It looks pretty up against a rock or under a red rose, perhaps. Notice I said “it,” as in a single plant. More on that in the ugly portion…

yellow-alyssum
Yellow alyssum sprouting from rocks in a New Mexico rock garden.

Now for the bad: This little spreader has cropped up throughout the garden, and we’ve pulled up a few, though I surrendered long before my husband. He has much more patience, though he hasn’t yet tackled the entire garden. Because he wouldn’t get halfway before he had to start again.

alyssum-prickly-pear
Yellow alyssum growing between pads of prickly pear cactus.

If I had any doubt last year about alyssum’s classification as a weed, at least in this setting, I have no doubt now. And that’s the ugly part. Despite our best (nontoxic, of course) efforts to control this little bloomer, it has taken over every nearly every surface and begun spreading to neighbors’ lawns as well. I have no idea how it started; it came with the house!

alyssum weed
Yellow alyssum as invasive weed in southeastern New Mexico.

Having called it ugly, I have to admit the lawn is really pretty when the sun hits it just right early and late in the day. And we are doing our part ecologically, because the bees swarm all over it when the sun shines. The dogs and deer must tread carefully.

alyssum and deer NM landscape
OK, I admit that the alyssum looks pretty here from a distance. But play “Where’s the Alyssum?” and you’ll spot it everywhere. And what exactly are those deer running from?

As for last year’s fear about the alyssum choking out summer grass, we still had a green lawn come summer. We don’t know if the flowers delayed the grass coming in, but I have a feeling they did. And I am frightened to think what will happen as it takes over, reseeds and multiplies. Meanwhile, I need to research medicinal properties of alyssum flowers or something. Maybe I could make some money?

UPDATE April 6, 2015: A few days after posting this, we headed east to visit relatives, through Roswell and almost to the Texas border. Guess what we saw growing in the worst possible conditions along roadways nearly the entire trip? You guessed it! And it was in my in-laws’ lawn and their neighbors’ yards too. My mother-in-law said she has seen it for years and knew it as a prairie wildflower. I give up and accept this invasive plant as a prairie wildflower … for now.