Blooms and Abodes for Bees

I took a chance on Saturday morning weather and had purchased a ticket to Burnside Farms for the sunflowers. I was under the impression that because tickets needed to be purchased before arriving that numbers would be curtailed due to the pandemic. I got there early, there was already quite a queue, but thankfully everyone was wearing a mask. I had bought my ticket a couple of days before and was amazed to get messages from friends who were wondering if I'd be posting any sunflower photos this year. So today I was shooting on demand!

 The sunflowers looked amazing but I was initially a little disappointed because they barely came up to my shoulders. The last time I photographed Burnside sunflowers was six years ago when they were in their original location in Haymarket. I'd been dazzled by the number of varieties, colors I'd never seen before on a sunflower, and most had towered above me. Today's flowers were all about 4.5ft high but it was hard to be sad looking at their bright sunny faces and I was smiling as I walked among them, careful to keep plenty of distance between me and other folk.

Apart from my feet being soaked with five minutes, due to the heavy storms we'd been having during the past week, I was amazed at how many buzzy critters were present. The insect world had a huge workforce out here this morning and the air was alive with their chatter and wing vibrations. Mason bees, sweat bees, leaf cutter bees, ladybirds, moths and butterflies were all fluttering, hovering and speeding above and around me. I was initially paranoid because I'd left my insect repellent wipes in the car and had no protection but I was astounded to realize that I wasn't being bothered by mosquitoes. I saw none. so I was joyous at having an opportunity to enjoy this field without constantly swatting, scratching or rubbing. The intense heat felt like I was melting, dripping onto my camera as I bent down, yet this didn't really worry me, nor my damp feet. I was acutely aware of being free of these pests and was savoring every second.

I've always loved the backs of sunflowers, the petals and leaves working together to create a beautiful pattern, the fuzzy, soft white hairs on the stalks and leaves. I find these flowers attractive back and front.

Just as I felt I was getting into my niche I became aware at how the field was filling up with people, and none of them were wearing masks. They'd worn them to get in and then removed them immediately. It was time to go. A shame, since my ticket had cost $12, but I didn't want to take any chances. I skirted along the edge of the blooms and made my way back to the car.

From Nokesville, I then headed to Marshall, where the Master Gardeners were putting on a workshop about native bees. Since I arrived early I was able to spend some time walking around their gorgeous garden, where everything was flourishing and in full bloom, insects buzzing back and forth, busy pollinating. This garden always makes me happy, it's a little paradise and an example of what I'm striving to achieve at The Blue House. I walked about, feeling very pleased that I actually already had a lot of the plants here back at home, but I desperately need more to replace the lawn, and I'm not very patient since I have a vision in my mind of how I want my garden transformed, and I want it yesterday.

I was delighted to see a couple of hummingbird moths flitting among the bee balm. It was here a few years ago that I saw my first one of these, hardly able to believe my eyes as I watched this amazing creature, unlike anything I'd ever seen. I slowly put out my hand and felt its wings beating the air as it hovered above the flowers. Even the huge bumble bees were relaxed in the heat and let me stroke their soft fuzzy backs.

We were called over to sit around a table under some shady trees. Everyone had brought their own chairs, were well spaced apart and all were wearing face masks; a small group of about 20. How civilized! Fauquier Master Gardener Rich Umbel was teaching us about native bees. Although I'd attended a previous workshop on hive bees, I have always preferred to support the 'local' bees, hence me wanting to create a pollinator garden. There are currently 14 species in Virginia, most of which are solitary bees, they work on their own. Many burrow underground but many also like to create nests in hollow branches, and here is where humans can help.

  Rich had brought along some bee hotels that he'd made, along with plenty of instructions on how to make them and why we should make them. The bee tubes can be purchased from Amazon or bee supply stores, leaf cutter bees preferring 1/4" diameter and mason bees wanting 5/16". He passed around two tubes showing how the mason bees seals her tube with mud while the leaf cutter bee used foliage. I did notice that these tubes were the same diameter but got so engrossed that I forgot to ask why this was.

Rich had even created a bee hotel inside a PVC pipe, which took him less than 10 minutes to make and erect. He also told us it's best not to mix the different diameters together in the same space, but different compartments or rooms are OK. Apparently the bees can get territorial.

I was fascinated with the mason bee nesting process. The female bee can control the gender of her offspring and will place the female eggs at the back of the nest with the males placed at the front, so in the spring they are first out and ready to mate when the females emerge. Then the male's work is done but the female will then begin making her own nest. They only live for about a year, the adult stage only lasting three to six weeks, during which the female will pollinate busily within 100-300ft of her nest. The eggs are laid in the spring, become larvae in the summer, turn into a pupa before summer ends, and then spend the fall and winter in their cocoons until they emerge the following year when the temperatures reach about 55F.

Replacing the used tubes after a season is a good idea to prevent the transmitting of any disease. Place the hotel where the sun warms it in the morning and protect from the weather. Make sure there's plenty of loose earth and water close by, for drinking and nest building. Rich uses two coats of exterior wood sealant. Rich said the mason bees will begin to appear mid March so I have the winter to build my accommodation.

This was a great workshop, I left feeling I'd learned a lot, plus it was wonderful to see the Master Gardener ladies again, the first time since I'd moved to Front Royal, so I was proud to let them know I was trying to follow their example. Maybe one day, my front garden will look like their little oasis here in Marshall, and buzz all day long with an active insect population. Although I have to admit the few small areas I've already planted are pretty busy.

Here are some superb sites I found for bee hotels:

https://www.almanac.com/content/bee-houses-solitary-bees

https://pollinators.msu.edu/publications/building-and-managing-bee-hotels-for-wild-bees/

https://colinpurrington.com/2019/05/guide-to-diy-mason-bee-houses/

Remember, some of these bee hotels look pretty complex, but as Rich explained, they don't need to be. It's easy to get excited about creating a beautiful house but all that's needed are these bee tubes, placed in a protective container such as untreated wood or a PVC pipe that is sheltered and preferably with some hardware cloth set away over the front so birds can't steal the eggs.

An excellent article on native bees versus hive bees.

https://content.yardmap.org/learn/honey-bees-compete-native-bees/

I later spent a few more hours researching bee hotels, and to be properly successful, there is a lot more work involved. Leaving a hotel overwinter without cleaning it means there's a good chance of mites or other diseases being left to infect the next larvae. Those who take this responsibility seriously actually use paper tubes that can be removed in the fall, the cocoons washed and dried to remove any infection, stored in a cold, dry dark area and then the cocoons are either returned to the hotel, or put in a paper box with a small hole, when the temperatures are warm enough.

I'm taking the high road here and The Blue House Bees will have a caretaker as of next spring!

A Forlorn Farewell and Flowers and Foes

It was with a heavy heart that I drove to Chantilly early on Saturday morning to attend the final, last, ultimate sale at DeBaggio's Herb Farm and Nursery. I had unfortunately got the time wrong, turning up an hour too early, so drove to a store for electrical supplies and then returned. Alam, from work, was there, having also turned up early, my fault. He had never been here before but as a new house owner and avid vegetable grower, he was desperate for pots and soil to work with at the back of his townhouse.

 This wonderful nursery was a haven, a hidden paradise in a community of ugly residential homes, a plot of lush green foliage and colorful flowers. Today, the beautiful garden was barely visible, having been reclaimed by nature, the pond hidden by tall grasses. But it was still lovely. The brick barn stood resolute in the burning sun, casting a cool shadow on us shoppers below, and I stood, looking around, so dreadfully sad that this wonderful plot of land would soon be swallowed up by the McMansion community, the nursery bulldozed to make way for cheaply made, extortionately priced houses. I wished I was able to buy this plot and keep this little oasis safe, but all good things must come to an end. Nothing good lasts for ever, the circle of life keeps turning, and the owners were beginning a new life in Florida, leaving a busy life behind to now relax and enjoy their retirement.
I was here, because I'm having a hard time letting go. This year has been hell for getting decent plants, there are no comparable nurseries for miles, and I've dreadfully missed buying all my vegetables, annuals and perennials from DeBaggio's. So I'd come, likely the same as all the others, to grab some souvenirs of my favorite garden center.

 We were allowed to begin shopping at 9:00 and my mother decided to call about 10 minutes later. I know she wasn't impressed when I told her I wasn't able to talk just now and would have to call her back later. But this morning was important and I needed to focus. There were quite a few folks here so the goodies would go fast. DeBaggio's had certainly priced stuff to go and I really needed some more trellises. I got two! I would have liked more but didn't want to be greedy, so left some for others. I picked up a couple of ceramic pots for houseplants, some burlap to protect plants in the winter, a snow shovel, some small decorative fence borders to support my yarrow, a blue watering can for The Blue House and I was ecstatic to find a terracotta square dish. It had a couple of drainage holes which I later plugged with cork. I've been searching for one of these for a couple of years for a square terracotta planter that I have so this was my prize find. And I picked up a cat mint plant since the groundhogs had destroyed the last one I'd got the cats. I said goodbye and thank you to Francesco, wishing him and his family the best in their new life and with a heavy heart I plodded towards the car and left DeBaggio's for the last time. I helped Alam load up my car with his pots and then dropped them at his house. I had really hoped to be able to return to Debaggio's and save a few of the plants left in the ground for my own pollinator beds, hating the thought of them being bulldozed, but it wasn't to be. I hope their staff get to save these. Back home I unloaded my treasures and began preparing for the next day.
On Sunday I was up and in the front yard by 6:00am trying to beat the heat. My irises from WV had arrived over a week ago and I really needed to get them in the ground. I had to dig some trenches in my lawn so I decided to create shorter nursery beds and keep the plants relatively close to each other. This way if any don't make it I won't be left with large bare areas, and if they all survive then I can split them in a couple of years.

I began digging in one area and found the clay to be like concrete. On closer inspection I discovered I'd unearthed an ants nest. I left that hole and dug one near my lavender and then another near the entry steps. If they all make it to next year I'll extend the beds and put in some companion plants, day lillies, coral bells, black-eyed susan and salvias. I also split the irises by the front door and put a box out for free pick up, and then I was done. My clothes were completely soaked through by the time I'd finished, and that was just the heat and humidity. I'd been extremely fortunate in not having the sun blazing down on my back as I worked, but strangely enough once I was finished it made an appearance. That was my cue to scuttle indoors.
I have been enduring an ongoing issue with ground hogs now for about a month. Chonk was an occasional visitor but he went ahead and had a couple of offspring who have deemed my back garden to be their regular feeding ground. I caught them redhanded as babies a few weeks ago, but the damage was already done.

They had scoffed every vegetable plant I'd grown. Gone were my cabbages, spinach, celery, squash, brussels, radishes, beans, cilantro plus possibly others I've since forgot I'd planted. They also bit down my sunflowers. I cannot express the anger and frustration I felt, and have been feeling since. The air has been bluer than a summer sky. I chased them out, they'd been burrowing beneath my back fence under the cover of the ivy. The following weeks, almost on a daily basis, an ongoing battle has ensued. I initially plugged the holes with wood and rocks but when they simply pulled those out, I resorted to a trip to rural King, came home and staggered to the back fence with a large roll of barbed wire. This I rolled out in coils along the whole length of the fence. and this they still worked their way through. It became a routine where I would arrive home, see them, chase them out, and then roll out another length of barbed wire until anyone strolling in the cemetery would compare my back fence to a prison perimeter.

The little, (well not so little now), wretches have been living large and enjoying a most tasty diet at my expense. All I have left are my tomato plants, a few straggly basil plants and two ears of corn. They even chewed off my nasturtium flowers and leaves, leaving them in a pile on the ground underneath. They also did this to my dill. Twice. Most of my planters with annuals in have also been ravaged. I have nothing left for them to chow down on but the f***ers still come back. And I still lay down more wire, using rocks and stakes now to pin it in place. But I can't kill them, I'm not into winning by brute strength, this is now a battle of wits. I've considered trying to trap them, but am obstinate in that I want to win and consider myself to be queen of my castle without resorting to banishing them from their locality, just my kingdom. I will win eventually...

Powered Down in the Pandemic

On Saturday Richard and I met up in Maryland to explore an abandoned power station that was slated for demolition the next week. It was sunny, hot and exceedingly humid. After parking the cars we had to walk under the burning sun until we could swing quickly into the entrance and through a hole in the fence. I had hoped the inside of the buildings would be cool and damp, but no, they were hot and clammy.

It took me a while to get into shooting mode. Richard was up and off but I stood for a while just looking about and noticing the multitudes of feathers on the floor and gratings, wondering if these came from a heavy shedding due to the intense heat, or if a predator lurked nearby. I clicked the shutter a few times and then began to focus. It had been a very long time since I've been urbexing in an industrial setting, and it felt good to get away from the house. As much as I love my home, the restraints from COVID leave little opportunity for socializing and I was enjoying being in the actual presence of a friend, rather than by phone or Zoom meetings. We didn't stay close to each other, keeping more than a safe distance apart to concentrate on different areas of the rooms we entered.

The light was wonderful, casting a warmth about the metal machinery and enhancing the silver paintwork that seemed to cover most of the pipes, walls and stairs. In fact, nearly everything was silver or orange, from rust. All the stairways and raised walkways were metal grids, something I've always been petrified of, but I just held on to the railings and watched where my feet landed, rather than focusing on what was below them.
This electric generating plant had been supplying power for over a hundred years before closing last year. The two buildings we explored contained the original generators which became silent and were replaced with newer machinery in a nearby building in the late 70's. All of this will be razed to the ground to make way for new waterfront buildings, either industrial or residential. A shame this beautiful brickwork can't be preserved.

Richard and I went our own ways within each building and I was delighted, like a kid in a fun maze, as I kept discovering new stairways which led to other levels, some which overlooked a tantalizing floor below, or had other stairs hidden behind doors or around a corner. Not all the rooms were visible from above so it became a thrill to enter each room and discover something new, another room or a stairway to yet another area. But the heat was nearly intolerable. There were continuous rivulets of sweat running down inside the front and back of my t-shirt, while salty drips ran into my eyes making them sting. I often had to shake my head to remove the build up on the ends of my hair. I was leaking badly.

I did make it up to the roof via a Jacobs ladder tucked behind a wall. The outside breeze felt so refreshing but I couldn't step outside since I'd be too visible. Instead I stood in the doorway for a few minutes and let my exposed skin dry off.
And then it was back down into the depths of the building again, this time straight to the bottom, where dark dusty shadows filled most of the rooms, occasional sunbeams breaking through the few frosted glass windows to highlight some of the behemoth metal containers and pumping equipment. Years of peeling paint curled from the rusted iron, wisps of flakes on the ground. Other footprints could be seen in the dust, although I wasn't sure if this was from other urbexers or workers still cleaning up the site in readiness for the demolition. As I peered through my viewfinder I was aware of a flash outside, as if someone had walked past the window momentarily blocking the sun. Yet I didn't hear any footsteps, and both Richard and I had been tip-toeing about like church mice, so I carried on.

I was too hot and bothered by the heat and humidity to use my tripod and remote shutter release, so I missed a few opportunities in extreme low light. But constantly wiping my forehead, shaking my hair and mopping my front and back with my t-shirt left me with little energy to spend time in setting that up. Luckily, the Sony coped well in this light. The oranges and silver looked resplendent, a contrast of smooth and silver shiny against the rough texture of the rust. The lack of graffiti was an additional and welcome absence.

Back upstairs I waited for Richard to arrive, and was pleased to meet a couple of the residents, one of whom gave me a look that clearly asked, what the hell was I doing in here?
We moved across the courtyard to the next building, which housed the control center.

This housed the power controls where transformers once sent electricity to various parts of the city. They now stood silent and dusty, metal pipes had already been cut out for scrap and there wasn't a single wire to be seen. Even the light bulb covers on the circuits, which had once glowed red, green or yellow were mostly missing, no doubt taken as souvenirs. The heavy iron staircases were still sturdy and intact, the detailed posts and railings still looking gorgeous with their slight rust enhancing the faded paintwork. I hoped these would be saved and repurposed.
The last building we entered was the home of the new turbine, which had provided the electricity until the power plant was shut down. Everything looked so modern and  much cleaner than the last two buildings but lacked the charm and interest. We were up on a metal galley when we heard a lot of metallic clanging. Aware that workers could still be cleaning up the building and removing last minute tools and equipment, we silently backed up and quickly left the premises. We later found out that more crews had moved in on Sunday, meaning we would likely be the last to photograph this titan before the wrecking ball arrived. Another urbexing wonder to bite the dust...