YELLOW BIRCH (FALL LEAF COLOR YELLOW) LAST FALL...
...QUICKLY REDUCED TO THIS PILE OF WOOD CHIPS...
...BY A MONSTER LIKE THIS
Saturday, 8:30 AM. 49 degrees F at the ferry dock, 45 on the back porch. Wind WSW, mostly calm with light gusts. The sky is clear except for a few high fish scale clouds, the humidity 75%. The barometer is just beginning to fall, now at 30.42". The high today will be around 60, rising to the mid-60's tomorrow, with chances of thunderstorms yet again on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday.
Several mornings ago Joan and I were eating breakfast and heard the rumble of big trucks pulling up just below our window. They were pulling huge tree removal equipment: back hoe with limb removal and and sawing attachment, stump grinder, etc., accompanied by a crew. Before we could even grasp what was happening the 50' yellow birch in a neighbor's yard was being cut down, first the limbs then the trunks and all fed into the chipper and loaded into a dump truck. The whole operation didn't take ten minutes. The wood chips were deposited in the lot across the street.
I have no problem with any of this, since I am a firm believer in property owners having control over their trees, as long as their trees don't infringe on someone else's property or safety. If the property owner isn't responsible for his trees the government must be, and that usually doesn't work very well.
I don't know for sure why the tree was taken down, but I assume it was for a good reason. Anyway it is none of my business, and I thought Almanac readers might like to know how big a pile of wood chips a 50' tree makes.
We enjoy having a view of the Big Lake and sometimes think it would be better with fewer trees, and that is indeed true. With the river birch gone our view of the lake is improved a bit, but we will never again enjoy the beauty of its fall color.
MINDING ITS OWN BUSINESS FOR A CENTURY, NEVER HIT BY A VEHICLE...
MARKED FOR REMOVAL, ALONG WITH MANY OTHERS
Friday, d9:30 AM. 54 degrees F at the ferry dock, 52 on the back porch. Wind NNE, light with stronger gusts. The sky is clear except for some white clouds on the southeastern horizon, the humidity 78%. The barometer is still rising slightly, now at 30.32". Tomorrow it will warm up a bit, with chances of rain Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. Trying to get the lawn mowed.
State Hwy. 13 has been under construction for most of the summer, often down to one lane with flagman, etc., etc. It is finally done, except for one last detail... cutting down all the trees anywhere near the roadway Whether this is to provide better vision, or a runoff strip for vehicles, or to spend more money on mowing roadsides is anybody's guess, but it seems to be a continuation of some obscure departmental policy evident previously, and the subject of the Almanac post of July 18, 2015, which I reprint below:
WHERE WILL THE EAGLES PERCH?
I made a few phone calls yesterday concerning the old white pines that
were taken down along State Hwy. 13 between the Sioux and Onion Rivers.
I called the Bayfield County Highway Department, since they took down
the trees. A very polite superintendent called me back and explained
that they were under a maintenance contract to the State Department of
Transportation, and were only following the dictates of the State
Superintendent for Bayfield, Ashland and Sawyer Counties, who was only
following routine regulations for roadside maintenance. In other words,
no one actually accepted any personal responsibility for the decision.
I am not a tree hugger that defies important safety or maintenance
issues, but I think that the take down of so many large old trees is a
decision that should be very well thought out and overtly defensible,
not simply explained away as some routine, rote procedure.
Highway 13 between Ashland and Cornucopia was finally designated a
State of Wisconsin Scenic Byway two years ago, after a twenty year
effort. The trees in question were a significant contribution to the
scenery, even though, or rather because , they had bare, broken and
picturesque branches. One old downed white pine, near the bridge over
the Onion River, was a rather consistent perch for bald eagles fishing
in the stream. That certainly was scenic.
I am not going to pursue the issue further with the Wisconsin
Department of Transportation, as dealing with that entity is about as
productive as punching a whale. But I do hope I have provoked a more
cautious attitude towards the removal of scenic old trees.
Perhaps in the future someone will ask first, "Where will the eagles perch?"
After the above was posted (and published in the local paper) I continued to look for answers, even asked our representative in the State House of Representatives to find me a state road department administrative rule book: no response. Now it has happened again, with a vengeance, and no roadside trees at all are left. Whether any of this is necessary or makes any sense or is according to written specifications or is even legal I have no idea, and and there is evidently no way to find out. This is why so many people hate government; the administrative state that is run by unelected, unaccountable bureaucrats in offices far away. I am an educated, reasonable person, merely asking what is going on near my home; and I will never get an answer. Some things never change.
Thursday, 8:00 AM. 56 degrees F at the ferry dock, 52 on the back porch. Wind WNW, mostly calm with occasional light to moderate gusts. The sky is partly cloudy with high, wispy white clouds, the humidity 77%. The barometer is steady, now at 30.06". Highs today in the mid-60's with the chance of rain. Cooler and clearing for the weekend, with more cool and rainy weather predicted for next week. Hope it dries out enough to mow the lawn.
Yesterday's blog was about tomatoes, in the Nightshade Family, the Solanaceae. Although there are many poisonous plants in that family, it also accounts for many others of our most common vegetables, among them potatoes (Solanum tuberosum), bell peppers (Capsicum annuum) , hot peppers, and eggplant (Solanum melangena). It should be no surprise that the Nightshade Family, which has many poisonous species, also has narcotic species, one of which is tobacco (Nicotiana tabaccum), grown of course for its leaves. The white man is often assailed for giving many diseases to the Indians; who certainly gave as good as the got when they introduced Europeans to tobacco, that great killer.
Every school child used to be taught (I doubt still are) about the Irish Potato Famine, which killed a million Irish between 1845 and 1852, and caused another 2 million to emigrate, mostly to the United States. Species in the Nightshade family are easily and devastatingly infected with the fungus Phutopthera, and a significant portion of the population of Ireland had become dependent upon one variety of potato, the Irish lumper. The potato disease crossed from the Americas to Europe and wiped out successive years of Irish potato harvest, and in Europe as well. The effects of the famine were exaggerated in Ireland by British trade protectionism that made imported foodstuffs prohibitively expensive for the starving poor.
Dependence on a single food source and the absence of free trade has stared to death millions of people across the globe many times over throughout history.
If the science of ecology teaches anything at all to us dunderhead humans it should be that diversity is essential to species survival, and that monocultures, whether environmental, economic or political, tend toward disaster. The common denominator of all these plants in the Nightshade Family is of course their flowers, a few of which are pictured above. It is still amazing to me how diverse a family can be in so many respects, but still have such a commonality. Strange relatives indeed.
Wednesday, 9:00 AM. 53 degrees F at the ferry dock, 49 on the back porch. Wind NW, mostly calm with occasional light gusts. The sky has been cloudy with black rain clouds but is clearing, the humidity 82%. The barometer is steady at 30.12" but is predicted to rise considerably, bringing partly cloudy skies and drier weather, with high temperatures around 60. Hope we continue to dry out.
For a while we thought there would be no vine ripe local tomatoes this year; not enough sunshine for these tropical fruits. But here they are, red ripe, responding to day length if not to sunshine in this fall of dismal weather.
I planted two tomato plants, which is usually enough for our much diminished table, but this season, like Blanch DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire, we have depended on the generosity of strangers (and the supermarket). But the season has become lately productive, not to the point of having to roll up windows and lock car doors, a la zucchini, but sufficient.
I love tomatoes, even fried green tomatoes, which we haven't resorted to as yet, but may still have to.
Tomatoes, which collectively constitute many varieties of the species Solanum lycopersicum, are a South American native, and were introduced from there to Europe in the 16th Century. They were, like the potato (also a Solanum), a poor people's food, and long suspected to be poisonous as well, since many species in the Nightshade Family, the Solanaceae, indeed are so.
I recently read that the wealthy ate from pewter plates, which contain lead, and the acid in tomatoes served on pewter plates caused lead poisoning. The poor ate from wooden plates and were not so affected. Makes sense.
It took the introduction of the pizza in 1880 in Italy, and its subsequent universal popularity, to fully establish the tomato worldwide. And that was indeed a good thing.
After all, what would the world be without pizza , and what would pizza be without tomato sauce?
Tuesday, 8:00 AM. 57 degrees F at the ferry dock, 54 on the back porch. Wind ENE, light with occasional strong gusts. The sky has a low overcast, it is foggy and still raining lightly after almost a half an inch of rain again last night, the humidity 98%. The barometer is steady, at 29.97". Tomorrow and the balance of the week should clear somewhat, with high temperatures around 60 degrees.
We have a few Ohio buckeye trees, Aesculus glabra, in the Buckeye Family (the Hippocastanaceae)
planted as street trees in Bayfield, and they have proven hardy here.
They make nice small street trees, although some people would object to
the nuts, which in past times were fine objects for little boys to
throw, and they make good slingshot ammo.
The "buckeye" is the state tree of Ohio and the name of the university football team, and many Ohioans carry a
buckeye nut in their pocket for good luck, particularly during deer hunting season. As a former resident of
Ohio (a Buckeye), I certainly do. An Ohio buckeye is also said to have the power to cure rheumatism
if so carried. I won't be drawn into that discussion.
The buckeye blooms nicely in the spring, an upright, compound, creamy
white flower spike. The leaves are palmately compound, with typically five
leaflets. The horse chestnut, Aesclus hippocastaneum, a much larger tree, is in the same family and has a quite similar leaf and nut (the latter without the distinctive "eye").
There are a number of other buckeye species hardy further south, and numerous hybrids of the various species, and some, including the hybrid 'Fort McNair' that are quite hardy and very beautiful.
There are many nuts this year and as soon as they fall from the tree they can be collected and used for propagation or as good luck charms, help yourself from beneath the street tree growing on Manypenny Ave. between 5th and 6th Streets.
For more on the Ohio buckeye and other buckeyes, use the blog search engine to find earlier posts.
Monday, 8:30 AM. 64 degrees F at both the ferry dock and on the back porch. Wind N, light with occasional slightly stronger gusts. The sky is overcast and cloudy, and it is raining lightly, the humidity 88%. The barometer is more or less steady, at 29.97". Rain today and tomorrow, highs in the low 60's, then cooler and clearing somewhat. Guess the lawn mowing will have to wait a few days. In our travels around Wisconsin we often come across ruined old power plants on small rivers; they are forlorn and abandoned, with broken doors and windows, the generating machinery inoperative or looted long ago. The dams themselves, the "millponds," have become part of the cultural infrastructure of small communities and will remain; and we think, "What a waste, if they were operational they could still power that entire community." Back in the 1980's I was involved with the restoration of a major historic estate located on a small tributary to the Hudson River north of New York City, and had the opportunity to inspect an early 20th Century power plant that had powered a small community. Very simple and straightforward, without even the necessity of a dam, it diverted flowing river water to a generator, taking nothing but the force of gravity, and in return giving light and motive power. Beautiful! There is a small dam and power plant on State Highway 118, seven miles south of Ashland on the White River, that looks like it still functions, and having bought coffee at MacDonalds on Saturday we pulled off the road to drink it, and took a closer look, after years of simply driving over the dam on the road. Believe it or not, here is an old dam, with a "millpond," that still produces electricity as it did years and years ago. Doing a little internet search, I can report: "White River Hydro plant is an automatic electric generating plant located seven miles south of Ashland, Wisconsin. White River Hydro is operated as a run-of-the-river operation where water is traversed along a 1500 foot pipeline running from the dam to the power plant. The water returns to the river channel as it exits the plant. Many people fish the stretch of river below the plant during spring steelhead and fall salmon runs." Operated by Xcel Energy Corporation, the little plant produces .6 megawatts of clean, completely renewable energy, enough electricity to power 650 homes. The "millpond" above the dam is a sport fishery for northern pike. The power company maintains free boat launches there, as it does at its power plant in Ashland on Chequamegon Bay (one of the few power plants that burns sawdust and wood chips, another important environmental effort). Xcel Energy also encourages the nesting of peregrine falcons on its stacks and towers, and operates bird cams to watch the parents and chicks. As a society, we can't afford to continually abandon concepts and facilities that have been paid for in money, human effort and often lives whenever a new idea comes to town. A truly wise and efficient society will keep the old along with the new where it is paid for, practical and makes sense. That to me is true environmentalism. So, I am giving a conservative environmentalist's "thumbs up" once again to Xcel Energy, a truly great and wise American corporation. For more information, visit Xcel Energy's corporate web site, also use the Almanac search engine.
Sunday, 9:00 AM. 64 degrees F at the ferry dock, 68 on the back porch. Wind SSW, calm at present. The sky is partly cloudy but clearing, the humidity 95%. The barometer is diving, now at 29.93". The high today will be in the low 80's, then dropping into the 60's and lower. Thunderstorms are predicted for Monday and Tuesday. I awoke to the persistent, plaintive call of the fog horn this morning, and the heavy fog is just now clearing. We traveled to Wautoma, Wisconsin, for a cousin's funeral on Saturday. The fall colors are definitely developing in the northern half of the state, but are not anywhere near their peak. Red maples are blazing away, sugar maples and poplars beginning to show color. Ferns and shrubs are coloring up, and asters are blooming everywhere. Oaks are still mostly green, as are the tamaracks. And right here by the big lake the color has just barely begun, although it looks like it will be a beautiful fall. We have had a spate of deaths in my extended family, since many of us are getting ancient, but each funeral or memorial service provides an opportunity to reconnect with others we have lost touch with, and youngsters we have never seen. The funeral parlor was alive with children, which gives us old folks great comfort. There is no more welcome sound at a funeral than a fussy baby, or a noisy toddler. When we got home the phone was beeping; the message? Our good friend Andy Larsen, as fine a naturalist as Wisconsin has to offer, had just passed away. Bad news comes in bunches.
Friday, 7:30 AM. 67 degrees F at at the ferry dock, 64 on the back porch. Wind NNW, light with much stronger gusts. The sky is overcast and cloudy, a storm front moving through, and it has begun to rain. The barometer is unsettled, now at 29.82". It looks like we will get a violent storm. Thunderstorm are predicted for the weekend, with highs around 80, then cooling off, with more stormy weather on Monday and throughout the week.
The New England aster, Aster novae-angliae, in the Sunflower Family, is a tall, vigorous perennial with fairly large compound, purple flowers. A similar plant with pink
flowers is the New Belgium aster. Like most asters, the flowers have yellow
centers. The New England aster is often seen in the garden, and is also
called St. Michaelmas daisy, as it comes into bloom in England about that saint’s
day, September 29, and is often planted in Anglican churchyards for that reason. It is the last aster to blossom in fall.
The Feast of Saint Michael the Archangel (also called the Feast of All Angels) was an important Medieval calendar day, as it marked the end of the harvest, when the reeve of the manor settled all accounts with tenants. As a church feast day it celebrated the casting out of Satan from heaven by the Archangel Michael in the heavenly war of good against evil.
Fokelore has it that Satan landed among the thorns of an earthly blackberry patch, and was so angered at doing so, that he cursed blackberries so as to be inedible after September 29. Frankly, they were cursed and inedible long before that date this year. The devil must have been working overtime.
I am not aware
of any medicinal or economic uses of the asters, their beauty alone
makes them valuable, and for most of us it is O.K. to recognize them all
as asters, and enjoy them as that. Like goldenrods, they are a
complicated lot, and I am satisfied with knowing only a handful of
them well.
I made a decision a few years ago to rogue New England asters out of the garden, as they
had taken over and dominated it all summer before they finally bloomed in
fall. Now I wish I had not been so thorough, and had left a few. An angel or two would be a welcome presence as well.
No posts for a day or two, we are traveling to Wautoma, Wisconsin for a funeral.
VIRGINIA CREEPER,...COMPOUND LEAF WITH FIVE LEAFLETS...
...GRAPE-LIKE BERRIES...
...VINES DRAPED OVER A WHITE PINE
... RAMBLING OVER SUMAC BUSHES
Thursday, 7:30 AM. 54 degrees F at the ferry dock, 50 on the back porch. Wind NNE, calm at present. The sky is cloudless with some haze, the humidity 91%. The barometer reads 30.02" and has begun to fall. Tomorrow is forecast to be clear and in the high 70's, with continuing warm temperatures and chances of thunderstorms throughout the weekend.
Virginia creeper, also known as woodbine, has gotten a late start color-wise this year, but is now busily covering trees and shrubs with its
graceful, crimson drapery. It can be weedy, so keep it out of the garden. It is usually
among the first plants to turn color in the fall and often dominates the
landscape in many places. It climbs by modified branchlets called
tendrils, as do grapes, and is in the Grape Family, the Vitaceae.
There are at least two species of Virginia creeper hereabouts, Parthenocissus quinquifolia and P. inserta. The genus name translates from the Latin as virgin's vine. They
add interest to rocks, tree trunks and other plants as they clamber about, the former by little suction discs on the tendrils, the latter by
twining tendrils alone.
Virginia creepers are closely related to the cultivated
Boston ivy, which is a horticultural derivation of an Asian species, P. vitaceae. As far as my abilities will take me, I believe the prevalent species in the Bayfield area, and the one pictured, is P. quinquifolia, but
the reference books themselves seem rather confused about the two species, so I don't feel too badly about it. I am inclined to consider the plant
pictured being a hybrid (how's that for spin; I should run for office).
Virginia creeper has rather insignificant flowers but bears clusters of
attractive, blue-black fruit. Native Americans had a number of
medicinal and ceremonial uses for the fruit and other parts of the
plant and there is some reference to using the berries for food, but I
also see references to the berries being poisonous, so take your pick. I tasted one today and I think it should be in the later category.
Folks sometimes mistake Virginia creeper for poison ivy, since they
are both vines, and both turn crimson in the autumn, but the former has
five leaflets, and the latter three. Confusing and weedy or not, Virginia creeper has always been one of my favorite plants.
ABOUT 9" HIGH...FRUITING BODY READY TO RELEASE SPORES
Wednesday, 8:00 AM. 64 degrees F at the ferry dock, 62 on the back porch. Wind SSE, calm with occasional light gusts. The sky is cloudy and overcast after a thunderstorm again last night, the humidity is 87%. The barometer has bottomed out and is beginning to rise, now standing at 29.65". Today's high will be around 70, with a chance of another thundershower. Tomorrow should be clear, with more thunderstorms again Thursday through Monday.
Of all terrestrial living things, there are few more mysterious and occult than mushrooms, the fruiting bodies of fungal mycelia that are microscopic and seldom seen in any other way. Since some mushrooms are edible and very good, others are deadly poisonous, and many are hallucinogenic, they have always been the creatures of fairy tales, witches plots and the occult.
Enter one of the most famously, grossly weird mushrooms; the stinkhorn, Order Phallales, family Phallacaea; I won't try to identify this thing I found in a neighbor's yard any further than that. I have only seen a few stinkhorns, none of them looked alike, and certainly none like this one. Note the pore at the top from which the spores are dispersed (insects are attracted to the stench it emits and spread the spores). I don't know if this thing is poisonous, but I doubt anyone would consider eating it anyway.
Of course, as the song states, everything is beautiful, in its own way.
Tuesday, 9:30 AM. 61 degrees F at the ferry dock, 59 on the back porch. Wind SSE, calm with occasional strong gusts. The sky is overcast and cloudy, the humidity 77%. The barometer is falling, now at 29.97". The high today will be in the mid-60's; tomorrow clear, with chances of thunderstorms on Wednesday, and Friday and for several days thereafter, as our wet weather continues.
I have said for years that cold hardy
peaches should grow well in Bayfield, which is in Plant Hardiness Zone 4B, particularly
near the lake, but haven't tried it myself. This young tree is growing
on Second Street, perhaps a hundred yards from the water. Will it
survive a really harsh winter? I think so, as our climate and soils are
very similar to the New York Hudson River Valley, where I know peaches
do really well.
This peach tree was planted three years ago, and this is the second year it has borne peaches (two dozen as I counted them).
Varieties 'Intrepid' and 'Reliance' are hardy to Zone 4, and are also
self-pollinating. Hauser's Orchard of Bayfield carries a few for it's
Red Barn sale every spring. Pick a sunny, sheltered spot near the lake if you
are a local, and give them a try.
Tree ripened peaches are far better than any that are picked before being fully ripe and shipped somewhere. I sure wish some young Bayfield entrepreneur would grow some commercially.
...BUT A SURE SIGN THE TREE IS ,OR WILL SOON BE, VERY DANGEROUS
Monday, 9:00 AM. 55 degrees F at the ferry dock, 51 on the back porch. Wind S, light, with occasional gusts. The sky is increasingly cloudy, the humidity 80%. The barometer has started to fall, now at 30.13". Today's high should be in the mid-60's, warmer tomorrow, with clear skies; then chances of thunderstorms the balance of the week.
While driving to church yesterday I spotted these large bracket fungi (also called shelf fungi and conks) on a red oak street tree. I am sure their emergence is quite recent, or I would have noticed them before.
There are many different species of shelf fungi that attack living trees and consume the heartwood, and I won't try to be more specific. The fungal mycelia feed on the woody tissues, the fruiting bodies appearing only periodically to produce spores to infect other host trees.
Once infected there is little to be done to stop the fungus, as there is no known control, and removing the mushrooms will not help the tree. The primary prevention is to protect the tree from wounds to the bark, as that is how spores gain access to the tree's heartwood. Lawnmower and weed eater damage to the trunk must be avoided, and pruning done properly to assure quick wound repair (oaks should not be pruned in the spring, as that increases the risk of infection by oak wilt).
Raising the earthen grade around any tree more than an inch or two will increase the risk of rotting the bark and subsequent fungal infection, and red oaks are in my experience very susceptible to this risk.
It is always difficult to predict when a tree will be so weakened by wood rot that it will fall or break in a windstorm, but this tree is, or will soon become, very dangerous.
Bracket fungi are as far as I know are all edible, but I don't find them very appetizing.
I am an old man and I am dying.
I sit as if I've been forgotten.
I call out to the mountains, but they do not answer.
It is silent; you can hear the crack of my bones.
The bright sun breaks and murders my branches leaving me bare.
It has been hundreds of years since I've been looked at.
I try to grow, but I'm drowned by the sun and my efforts are useless.
I have cuts on my side, and my arms are separated.
Campers come and cut me, chopping my heart apart.
Birds avoid me as if I'm poison.
The young green ones around me laugh and play all day.
I am there, but to them, I am invisible.
I am free, but I cannot move.
I scream, I shout, I reach to the stars, but still,
No one notices.
I am an old man and I am dying.
Sunday, 8:00 AM. 52 degrees F at the ferry dock and on the back porch. Wind WSW, light to moderate. The sky is partly cloudy, the sun shining through. The humidity is 82% after thunderstorms again last night. The barometer is 30.04" and steady. The high today and the rest of the week will be in the mid-60's, with mixed skies and chance of rain again by Wednesday.
Another sign that fall is here is the ripening of mountain ash berries. Mountain ash, small trees in the genus Sorbus in the Rose Family, and closely related to apples and pears, are of course not an ash species at all, as ash are in the genus Fraxinus which
is in the Olive Family. The common name Mountain ash relates to its
feather compound leaves, which are ash-like in appearance. The two tree
genera bear no other similarity, and scientific nomenclature of plants
is based upon flower structure and its evolution.
The mountain ash species most likely to be encountered are very
similar in appearance and use, the most popular being the European
mountain ash, Sorbus aucuparia, and the American mountain ash, Sorbus americana. I find them very difficult to tell apart (although the winter buds of americana tend
to be sticky), and the European species is very much naturalized and
commonly found growing as a volunteer in the wild around human
habitation. For landscape purposes, the two species are very comparable,
even the orange, edible (not very good tasting) berries being very similar. In recent years the
most popular mountain ash sold by nurseries is the also-native showy
mountain ash, Sorbus decora, which has berries that are red
rather than orange. The Korean mountain ash is sometimes available in
nurseries, and is also a very handsome tree. The European mountain ash
has long been called the rowan tree in England.
Mountain ash trees have great landscape value, as they are beautiful
in flower and in fruit, and provide great wildlife food. They are a fine small landscape or street tree. Many
individual mountain ash also have good fall leaf color, and in some countries wine is made from the berries, or the berries are used to flavor a seasonal beer. Horticultural varieties of mountain ash with truly edible berries have
been developed in Germany and Russia, and although I am not personally
familiar with them they sound like a good idea.
Mountain ash are all
small trees or multi-stemmed large shrubs of the far north, the North
American species being trees of the Boreal Forest biome; they are semi-shade tolerant and not particular as to soil conditions. Sorbus species do have some problems, one being fire blight,
which is also a very common disease of apples, crab apples, pears and quince. Sap
suckers, which are small woodpeckers, can be very destructive, drilling
holes in the soft bark in order to drink the flowing sap in the spring.
They can girdle and kill trees they take a liking to.
Knowing the difference between mountain ash (Sorbus) and true ash trees (Fraxinus) is very important when dealing with Emerald Ash Borer, as that pest only attacks Fraxinus species.
HOW TO MAKE ROWANBERRY WINE (from the English newspaper the Manchester Guardian)
2kg rowanberries, snipped off with scissors, picked over and washed 1.2kg sugar 500ml white grape juice concentrate Juice of 2 lemons 1 tsp of wine tannin 1 tsp pectolase 1 tsp yeast nutrient Sachet of white wine yeast About 4 litres of boiling water
Mashing rowanberries. Photograph: John Wright
Put the berries in a food grade plastic bucket and mash them coarsely with the end of a rolling pin. Boil the water then stir in the sugar until dissolved, bring to the boil again and immediately pour over the berries. Cover and allow to cool. Add the grape concentrate, pectolase, lemon juice and tannin. Cover and leave for 24 hours then stir in the yeast nutrient and yeast (activated if necessary).
Cover and leave for a week, stirring every day for the first five days. If your brew has separated nicely into three layers – sludge / liquid / sludge – carefully place the end of a siphon at a strategic height and siphon off the liquid into a clean demi-john – though a bit of sludge won't hurt. Otherwise strain through clean muslin using a funnel. Top up to the bottom of the neck with boiled and cooled water if necessary. Fit your bung and fermentation lock and leave to ferment for a couple of months.
Rack off into a fresh demi-john and leave until all fermentation has stopped for a week, then bottle. Rowanberry wine benefits from a long maturation period in the bottle – at least a year.
All about nature, horticulture, landscaping, and Wisconsin, USA small town life...with some conservative commentary thrown into the mix. Some readers love the later, others just ignore it; anyway, don't get upset about it.
I am semi-retired after a long career in botanical garden and arboretum management. We have lived and worked in WI, NY, NE an OH, and love this big, bold country of ours, where anyone with a desire to educate themselves and work hard can succeed. I have nearly quit calling myself an environmentalist, since I consider the once proud term to have been hijacked by too many persons and causes that are little more than left wing apologists with their own, usually unscientific and anti-democracy agendas. And nobody understands what a "Conservationist" is anymore. Hence the "Conservative Environmentalist." I Currently work as a horticulture consultant, designing and installing landscapes and gardens locally and elsewhere. I also serve as the (volunteer) Forester for the City of Bayfield, and am a member of the State of Wisconsin Urban Forestry Advisory Council.
