http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler stories of landscapes, conservation, and people in and beyond the Rivanna Watershed Tue, 03 Feb 2009 16:11:58 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.8.5 en hourly 1 © lmiddleton@embarqmail.com () lmiddleton@embarqmail.com() stories of landscapes, conservation, and people in and beyond the Rivanna Watershed lmiddleton@embarqmail.com No no http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/wp-content/plugins/podpress/images/powered_by_podpress.jpg http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler 144 144 http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/09/11/102-stormwater-at-the-dell-righting-a-wrong/ http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/09/11/102-stormwater-at-the-dell-righting-a-wrong/#comments Thu, 11 Sep 2008 21:42:15 +0000 admin http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/09/11/102-stormwater-at-the-dell-righting-a-wrong/ http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/09/11/102-stormwater-at-the-dell-righting-a-wrong/feed/ 0 00:01:01 September 11, 2008 The University of Virginia's Stormwater Management Program has resulted in transformations of the built environment while at the same time improving water ... September 11, 2008 The University of Virginia's Stormwater Management Program has resulted in transformations of the built environment while at the same time improving water quality. The Dell is once such transformation. This show originally aired in September 11, 2008 on ldquo;The Rivanna Rambler,rdquo; a weekly public affairs show airing every Thursday at 11:55 a.m. on WTJU 91.1 FM or wtju.net Last night after a meeting at UVA's Newcomb Hall, I strolled across Emmet Street to The Dell for a quiet moment on the water. At the end of the hot day, the air temperature was falling as the undersides of clouds darkened with gray. From a bench across the pond I could see blue and orange shirts and shorts moving on the basketball court. The pool before me reflected the action in segments clipped by a row of young arbor vitae planted along the edge of the court. Above me, bats streaked through darkening air, criss-crossing over the water partaking of misquotes. The sound of Emmet Street traffic was constant, but the longer I sat, the more it started to blend with a new sound ndash; one of flowing water from somewhere beyond a large English boxwood leftover from a former landscape. I was sitting by a section of Meadow Creek that has been rehabilitated and restored, brought to the surface after being contained in the 1950's. When the construction of the dorms at McCormick Road altered the topography of Meadow Creek near its headwaters at Observatory Hill, the water, still answering to gravity and the lay of the land, needed somewhere to go ndash; and in the conventional wisdom of that era, concrete, drain pipe, and culverts were employed to route it away and downhill. The project at The Dell is now famous for bringing this section of Meadow Creek back to the light of day ndash; while creating a mixed habitat alongside the restored stream flowing in to a formally landscaped retention pond ndash; the floodplain real estate shared with the basketball courts, tennis courts, and walking trails. The Dell, and other innovative storm water projects at UVA have been much publicized. This month's Landscape Architecture magazine has a multi-page glossy spread about the project, along with the redevelopment of the stream valley of Meadow Creek just downhill several thousand feet downstream at the John Paul Jones arena. There, roof and parking lot rainwater are collected in planted swales and rain gardens engineered to slow the water so that it can infiltrate through the layers of soil and feed the creek in the slow but sure way of groundwater. Jeff Sitler, UVA's Environmental Compliance Manager ndash;says he's giving about a tour a week these days, and rightly so. Five years since the completion of the Dell, the university knows that its working; the plants are filling out nicely; and it has become a place that attracts wildlife, students, neighbors, and the occasional citizen like me who can't resist a water feature of any kind. Between the pond and the copse of woods where the creek emerges from its containment is a greenway spotted with picnic benches. The designers used the change in elevation to replicate the three main physiographic regions of Virginia. Mountain laurel and hemlock in the upper reach speak for the Blue Ridge. Along the stream, stepped into riffle by strategically placed boulders are the plants, of the piedmont, dogwoods and species of ilex and magnolia only found in this region. Finally as the water emerges in to the open stretches of pool and pond, it has arrived symbolically at the coastal plains, the flatland marshes, arrow plant and cattail, wetlands doing the work of nutrient and sediment uptake as they do in the tidal reaches of the Chesapeake Bay. As I sat in the shadows, much of the beauty of the Dell was beyond my sight ndash; in the way that storm water has often out of sight, channeled away from the places WE want to be. But it was we humans who named it storm water to begin... Charlottesville,,Meadowcreek,,Native,Landscaping,,Rivanna,River,,Stormwater,,Wetlands lmiddleton@embarqmail.com no No http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/06/26/93-roadside-travelers/ http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/06/26/93-roadside-travelers/#comments Thu, 26 Jun 2008 21:06:29 +0000 admin http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/06/26/93-roadside-travelers/ http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/06/26/93-roadside-travelers/feed/ 0 00:01:01 June 26, 2008 This show originally aired in July, 2007 and then again on June 26, 2008 on ldquo;The Rivanna Rambler,rdquo; a weekly public affairs show ... June 26, 2008 This show originally aired in July, 2007 and then again on June 26, 2008 on ldquo;The Rivanna Rambler,rdquo; a weekly public affairs show airing every Thursday at 11:55 a.m. on WTJU 91.1 FM or wtju.net Summer time is travel time ndash; and for some of us involves hours in the car, watching the road, the clouds, the passing scenery. On a recent trip to Orkney Springs, I took stock of summertimersquo;s fullness: the tree-covered mountains fuzzy with blossom, the roadside grasses, prolific and head-heavy with seed. I recognize chicoryrsquo;s cheerful blue flowers, along with Queen Annersquo;s lace, mullein, and thistle. Once at our destination, I take to foot along a rough macadam road headed towards West Virginia. Walking uphill at a leisurely pace, with a field guide in hand, I stop from time to time to identify those flowers I do not yet know. Bouncing Bet, or soapwort, with its generous flowering orbs of pale pink and white; New York ironweed, tall, stately, with emerging purple flowerets. Oxeye daisy, everlasting pea. For better or for worse, roadways are as good as any for seeing wildflowers, in part because in clearing a swath through the trees suitable for roads we make it possible for other plants to thrive. Some of these are native species that have found a new stronghold, and many are not so welcome, belonging to that category of plants we call non-native. On national and state lists, they are ranked according to their cumulative affect on habitat: plants on the C-list generally do not affect ecosystem processes, but establish themselves to the detriment of native plants. ldquo;Brdquo; list plants are moderately invasive, effecting ecosystem processes on at least one level. A-ranked species, as you can guess, are the worst offenders, causing major alterations in plant community composition and structure, while disrupting the ecosystem process on many levels. And along this back road in the Alleghany foothills, I come face-to-face with a leggy purple-flowered plant, looking much like field thistle, but distinguished by the dark colored fringe on the bract at the base of the flower that gives rise to itrsquo;s name: the spotted knapweed, or Centaurea maculosa. In Virginia, itrsquo;s an A-list plant ndash; and it is also much reviled by habitat protection specialists in the western United States, where it was first introduced. Also known as ldquo;ballast weed,rdquo; it is believed to have arrived in the 1890rsquo;s in the soil used as ballast on ships coming to the Pacific Northwest. Once established, the spotted knapweed out-competes the natives by a number of methods. It has a highly efficient taproot that sucks up water faster than the root systems of its neighbors. It is relatively unpalatable to herbivores; and it is prolific, each plant producing up to 25,000 seeds that are dispersed by wind, animals, and people. The seeds themselves are hardy and may remain viable for 8 years. Massive eradication programs are underway to protect native grass pastures and rangeland in the west that have been overtaken by this species. And while it is on the A-list in Virginia and other Bay states, most resources in the mid-Atlantic have been spent going after the really bad herbaceous actors: purple loosestrife and phragmites. In the 1970rsquo;s, agricultural agencies began to introduce two species of gall flies, whose larvae build galls within the flower buds, thus reducing the number of seeds produced. In an ironic twist of fate, it turns out that deer mice find tis larvae quite tasty and often ingest the knapweed seeds while munching on the fly larvae. The great-horned owl, in turn, finds the deer mouse a yummy treat, regurgitating the indigestible mouse parts, along with knapweed seeds when done with its meal, contributing to further dispersal of the plant species. This highlights an important fact: once introduced, whether intentionally or by accident, specie... Ecology,,Native,Landscaping lmiddleton@embarqmail.com no No http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/04/10/83-shadbush-serviceberry-and-sarvis/ http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/04/10/83-shadbush-serviceberry-and-sarvis/#comments Fri, 11 Apr 2008 03:48:40 +0000 admin http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/04/10/83-shadbush-serviceberry-and-sarvis/ http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/04/10/83-shadbush-serviceberry-and-sarvis/feed/ 1 00:01:01 April 10, 2008 The serviceberry tree goes by many names, depending upon where you live or, sometimes, the species or cultivar.nbsp; Learning the stories behindnbsp; this ... April 10, 2008 The serviceberry tree goes by many names, depending upon where you live or, sometimes, the species or cultivar.nbsp; Learning the stories behindnbsp; this early blooming shrub brings an appreciation for the richness of both cultural and natural history. This show originally aired on April 10, 2008 on ldquo;The Rivanna Rambler,rdquo; a weekly public affairs show airing every Thursday at 11:55 a.m. on WTJU 91.1 FM or wtju.net. Photo of shadbush by Dudley Rochester. This is one of those weeks that you can literally watch the hourly changes as spring bursts forth. It's hard to know where to put your attention, amidst all the flowering trees ndash; the dogwoods blooming on cue for the Festival, the audacious magenta flowering crabapple, redbud blossoms lining dark branches in perfect counterpoint, like tiny purple Christmas lights. In this area, if spring seems to be moving too fast, you can always travel to a higher elevation and catch it again. If I were headed to the hills, the one tree I'd still be looking for is the serviceberry, whose white showy flowers have always been a reliable marker of spring, but pass so quickly that you may have only a few days before the wind snatches them from the bud and soft green leaves unfurl in their place. Serviceberry belongs to the genus Amelanchier, in turn a member of the rose family along with chokeberry, hawthorn, apple, plum, and pear; mountain ash and, of course, the rose. There several dozen species of native serviceberry in North America with Virginia being home to three of them: Amelanchier arborae (the downy serviceberry), A. Canadensis (the shadblow serviceberry), and A. Laevis (the Allegheny ndash; or smooth -- serviceberry). It's known by other names, too: shadbush, sarvis, sarviceberry, Saskatoon serviceberry, Juneberry, pigeon berry, mespilus, and currant tree ndash; colloquial names born from the cultures of peoples who lived the annual cycles of plants and wildlife. All varieties, including cultivars, are early blooming shrub or small trees that light up the otherwise drab landscape of woodlands and field edges before just about anything else has come in to flower ndash; around here, in early March hellip; though New Englanders and Canadians have to wait many more weeks beyond to see their first color from the serviceberry. In the southern highlands, the plant is often called sarvis or sarvisberry. This pronunciation is commonly thought to derive from the season in the mountains when the springtime thaw made it possible for traveling preachers to reach their communities in the hills. In some places, frozen ground prevented the burial of those who had died in the winter ndash; as soon as possible in the spring, the bodies were removed from icehouses and properly buried. But ministers made other celebrations possible ndash; and the women went to the hills to gather the blooms for baptisms, weddings, and the regular Sunday services. Word historians have concluded that there is another explanation for this name, sarvis. They believe that the American serviceberry was named by settlers because its fruit bore resemblance to the service, a mostly forgotten English fruit somewhat like a pear, which, though, unrelated to the American serviceberry, was often called, sarvis. The sarvisberry offers some of the first early summer berries, tasty reddish-purple pomes that are a welcome treat to robins, bluebirds and other fruit eating species, giving rise to another common name, the Juneberry. Juneberries were used by Native Americans, pounded into meat to make pemmican ndash; and even now, they are collected by those who appreciate them for jams, cobblers, and wines. Most of us know that the names shadbush ndash; and shadblow ndash; derive from the timing of bloom coinciding with the run of shad in the rivers ndash; those anadramous fish that live in the ocean but travel up our Atlantic coastal rivers annually to spawn in freshwater. ... Charlottesville,,Ecology,,Native,Landscaping,,Natural,History,,Rivanna,mainstem,,Wildlife lmiddleton@embarqmail.com no No http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/03/27/81-yellow-color-in-the-hills/ http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/03/27/81-yellow-color-in-the-hills/#comments Thu, 27 Mar 2008 11:40:01 +0000 admin http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/04/02/81-yellow-color-in-the-hills/ http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/03/27/81-yellow-color-in-the-hills/feed/ 1 00:01:01 March 27, 2008 About the time that forsythia brazenly declares the sure coming of spring, the diminutive but no less reliable yellow flowers of the native ... March 27, 2008 About the time that forsythia brazenly declares the sure coming of spring, the diminutive but no less reliable yellow flowers of the native spicebush light up the hills. This show originally aired on March 27, 2008 on ldquo;The Rivanna Rambler,rdquo; a weekly public affairs show airing every Thursday at 11:55 a.m. on WTJU 91.1 FM or wtju.net. About the same time that forsythia brazenly claims the color award in yards all over the watershed, there's a quieter, but no less remarkable, yellow emerging in the hills and woodlands, especially in the damper, cooler swales. You could almost miss it if you were expecting something more dramatic, but it's worth stopping and taking a closer look at the shy but ubiquitous spicebush, also known as Benjamin Bush. Last weekend, we walked the Thomas Jefferson Parkway to see what this week of spring had to offer in the way of blooms and buds. After we enter the woods, I see the arcing branches of a shrub blending into the background of dull gray-brown leaf litter spattered by the sun and shadow on the winter-old bark of poplars, hickories, and oak. But small static bursts of lemon-yellow adorn the stems, alternating in the manner of the leaves that will soon emerge. I pull a stem towards me and scrape the bark, smelling the tell-tale odor ndash; like a touch of allspice with a hint of lemon. Leaves, bark, twigs and berries are all infused with terpenes, like many plants of the family that also includes such aromatic trees and shrubs as sassafras, cinnamon, camphor, bay, and the true laurel. The oil of benzoin has been extracted from spicebush for centuries and used as a remedy for a variety of ills. Some called the oil, "Benjamin," giving rise to the plants' alternate name. During the Civil War, soldiers brewed tea from the leaves and twigs of the spicebush ndash; and ground and dried leaves and twigs make a fine substitute for allspice. But these days, commercial benzoin is derived from other plants, such as sweet gum, leaving the spicebush as a source of food for numerous birds and the ever-common white tailed deer. The flowers, however, do not offer this identifying smell. They are surprisingly tiny, arising like exclamation marks from delicate petals. Male flowers on male plants are smaller and somewhat less intricate. Female plants eventually give rise to the bright red berries that emerge in the fall, full of oil for over-wintering birds. The plants are pollinated by a variety of insects and are common in moist woodlands and emerging wetlands as well as drier soils. Later in the week on a drive around the watershed, I see them in the forest under story of the Southwest Mountains as well as Shenandoah National Park. On our walk up the back side of Carter's mountain, it's lemon yellow blossoms brighten the woods. A yellow and black butterfly, probably a swallowtail, wings away from us. It's cousin, the spicebush swallowtail, is darker and is dependent upon the spicebush, along with the Sassafras tree, as food and shelter during its larval stages. From the first molt, through successive instars, the caterpillars excrete and strategically places masses of silk like dots of glue that dry, pulling the leaf into a fold over the insect to protect it in its cocoon. These caterpillars also have a bright orange scent gland that releases a strong odor like concentrated spicebush to ward off predators. Before I started to learn about the importance of native plants to the ecosystems of our watershed, I relied on the gaudy yellow of forsythia as the true marker of spring surely on its way. Forsythia, imported from Asia into North America in the early 1900's, has become a standard border bush of middle America, easy to grow, few predators and pests, and hardy for many years. Trouble-free, as the gardening books say. Yet along with so many other non-native plants, forsythia has little to offer birds or butterflies. Spicebush, however, is also... Albemarle,County,,History,,Native,Landscaping,,Natural,History lmiddleton@embarqmail.com no No http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/02/28/78-the-reluctant-gardener-faces-non-native-dilemma/ http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/02/28/78-the-reluctant-gardener-faces-non-native-dilemma/#comments Thu, 28 Feb 2008 23:07:12 +0000 admin http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/02/28/78-the-reluctant-gardener-faces-non-native-dilemma/ http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/02/28/78-the-reluctant-gardener-faces-non-native-dilemma/feed/ 1 00:01:01 The winter garden starts to beckon at this time of year. Now is a good time to think about whatrsquo;s native, and whatrsquo;s ... The winter garden starts to beckon at this time of year. Now is a good time to think about whatrsquo;s native, and whatrsquo;s not, and how to make amends for ignorant landscaping choices of the past. This show originally aired on February 28, 2008 on ldquo;The Rivanna Rambler,rdquo; a weekly public affairs show airing every Thursday at 11:55 a.m. on WTJU 91.1 FM or wtju.net. February 28, 2007 I am a reluctant gardener. The seasons conspire against me here in Central Virginia. In the winter, when I should be planning the vegetable garden, pruning shrubs, and tidying the lawn, I crave the quiet of indoors where I hibernate, in between bursts of outdoor activities that take me into the woods or by the river or to the tops of the ridges. Much the same happens to me in the springtime rush, a time of not enough time ndash; when I am called by the waters to paddle rivers bursting with green while the weather is still tolerable. For sure, when spring emerges, I do spend a few days tethered to lawn and plants ndash; affirming my environmental responsibility to this City acre and my good fortune for having land at all. Summer, when vegetables want thinning and harvesting and weeds go to seed, Irsquo;m retreating to any place removed from heaviness of the humidity. By the time fall rolls around, I vainly try to make up for lost time, tidying and raking in anticipation of the winter. This is a roundabout way of saying that I have not yet done anything about the invasive plants in my yard that I boldly named a couple of summer s ago on this show: the English ivy and bamboo I inherited when we bought our home, and the others that I actually planted before becoming enlightened to the issue of natives versus non-natives. My yard boasts not one, but two, firebushes, that I planted, now over seven feet tall, their little green buds forming round and ready for spring as I speak. And the large and small leafed privet ndash; whose fragrant blossoms provide a welcome olfactory memory of summers on Cape Cod ndash; well, we actually planted more to balance the ones already there. Folly, I now see, as sprigs emerge uninvited amidst the quince and holly. Irsquo;m resigned to periodically pulling the ivy from its ascent up tree trunks and pulling the privet from where it is not wanted. I will, with time, find replacements for the butterfly bush -- also not a native to our region. And, I will continue to cope with bamboo roots running underground webs across the upper lawn. But what is really troubling me this season is that I now realize that the sediment that smothers the life our of river and its tributaries comes not just from fields, or pastures, or construction sites ndash; it also comes from city lots like mine, where the lawn has become patchy, or the piles of sand and mulch from an old garden project lie open to spring downpours, or the border of the driveway reveals a gash of red Virginia clay ready to become runoff. There is the slope of land between at the front of our house lawn and street, where I spent our first years of living here painstakingly removing the English Ivy and the poison ivy, to give room to periwinkle, whose sweet blue flowers and lush evergreen seemed to tidy our yard and match our cottage home. But I now know that this, too, is a non-native ndash; an imported ornamental that is hearty precisely because it has found in our climate optimum weather and minimum ecological constraints. The irony is that, while the poison ivy would not have been easy to live with, its white berries are food for many species of birds ndash; one of the best reasons for choosing native over non-native plants. So my quandary is this hellip; I want to replace the vinca with a native groundcover, but I know that doing so will expose a slope of soil that is rich and poised to wash right into the storm drains on its way to the river ndash; and to prevent this will require from me careful planning, silt fencin... Charlottesville,,Native,Landscaping,,Rivanna,River,,Sediment,,Stormwater lmiddleton@embarqmail.com no No