Plant of the Week

Queen-of-the-prairie
Filipendula rubra (Hill) Robins.
other common names: meadow sweet
Filipendula: from Latin filum for “thread” and pendulus for “hanging,” in reference to the small tubers strung together by the fibrous roots of one species
Rubra: from Latin, meaning “red”
Rose family: Rosaceae

Photograph by Thomas Rosburg, Wildflowers of the Tallgrass Prairie: The Upper Midwest, Second Edition

An Interview with David Faldet: Part 1

In Oneota Flow you hold true to Aldo Leopold’s conception of land as a 
community in which water, people, and soil play interactive parts. Tell us 
more about this conception as it informs your writing.
I begin the book by saying that people are walking tributaries of the nearest river. We are three-quarters water. Water passes from a river system through us, then back into a river again. That water has probably been around for billions of years. It isn’t ours, really, and it isn’t “us.” But for all that, we can’t live for more than a few days without water. Knowing that really brings Leopold’s message home.

While I show that people have been successfully interacting with the Upper Iowa River for over 10,000 years, I also try to show the problems that stem from the modern misperception Leopold pointed out to us: thinking we are overlords of the more-than-human world around us. Our misuse of water resources is just one example of the way we mistake ourselves as somehow above the physical world. We are dependent borrowers in a world we often mistakenly think we own.

Soil loss and water quality are huge issues in Iowa, and the Upper Iowa
 River is no exception. You’ve lived in the Upper Iowa basin for more than 
forty years. What has changed since you first came to this area? What’s
 better, and what’s worse?
The Upper Iowa flows mostly through a state with some of the most extreme water-quality issues in the nation. For every ton of corn our farmers harvest, we let two tons of soil, nitrogen, and phosphates flow down the nearest river. On the Upper Iowa it’s sometimes ten tons of soil per ton of harvested grain.

For all that, we are doing better than when settlers first came here, better than farmers before the conservation movement of the Great Depression. Urban and point-source wastewaters are better treated now than before the Clean Water Act of 1972. We’ve got a long way to go, but there’s ground for hope. 

David Faldet, Oneota Flow: The Upper Iowa River and Its People

This Week in Iowa Nature

On cold winter nights, plan nature hikes into new territory, using U. S. Geological Survey topographic maps. Consider exploring Iowa's three officially named canyons: Whitewater, Preparation, and Brush Creek in Dubuque, Monona, and Fayette counties, respectively.

Jean C. Prior and James Sandrock, The Iowa Nature Calendar

Plant of the Week

Rattlesnake master
Eryngium yuccifolium Michx.
other common names: button snakeroot, yucca-leaf eryngo, corn snakeroot, water-eryngo, rattlesnake flag, rattlesnake weed
Eryngium: from the Greek for “a prickly plant,” referring to the apparent prickle-like leaves of this plant (although they are neither prickly nor sharp)
Yuccifolium: from the Greek for “yucca leaves,” referring to the yuccalike appearance of the leaves
Parsley family: Apiaceae (Umbelliferae)

Photograph by Thomas Rosburg, Wildflowers of the Tallgrass Prairie: The Upper Midwest, Second Edition

An Interview with Carl H. Klaus: Part 3

You are seen as an expert in all things gardening in Iowa City and beyond. But I bet that you learned something from writing this book. What did you learn?
From an author’s perspective, the most important thing one learns in writing a book is how to write the book itself, for every book, given its unique subject matter and form, involves a distinctly new challenge. When I started Weathering Winter, I imagined that every day would involve me in describing a different wintry scene in and around my neighborhood, but after a run of 9 overcast days, I realized that I would have to expand my horizons, taking account of winter weather around the world, past and present, actual and fictional, outside and inside my own head. In other words, I learned something about winter. I also learned that the seasons never quite match our expectations, for the winter of 1995, which is featured in the book, turned out to be much shorter and milder than usual, so much so that I was able plant my radish seeds outdoors on March 15, earlier than ever before. 

What advice would you give to budding authors who want to focus on gardening?
The most important resource for any garden writer is meticulous record keeping—a journal taking stock of everything one does in the garden, everything one notices in the garden, and every aspect of the weather such as temperature, windspeed, rainfall, and so on. Given the vagaries and distortions of memory, one’s journal should always be close at hand, so that notations and impressions can be made as quickly and accurately as possible. A few hours after the fact, one might remember things somewhat differently from the moment of observation, as I discovered from my own early experiences of record keeping. A detailed and accurate record of one’s garden (or the garden of someone else) will provide a storehouse of reliable information for gardening articles, essays, and memoirs as well as a point of reference for one’s garden planning in years to come. 


Carl H. Klaus, Weathering Winter: A Gardener’s Daybook

Plant of the Week

Butterfly milkweed
Asclepias tuberosa L.
other common names: pleurisy root, butterfly weed, yellow milkweed, orange swallowwort, orangeroot, whiteroot, Indian posy, windroot, Canada tuber, Canada flux, chigger flower
Asclepias: from the name of the Greek god of healing and medicine
Tuberosa: meaning “tuberous,” referring to the tuberous root
Milkweed family: Asclepiadaceae

Photograph by Thomas Rosburg, Wildflowers of the Tallgrass Prairie: The Upper Midwest, Second Edition

An Interview with Carl H. Klaus: Part 2

Do you follow a strict routine for starting seeds? Tell us your secrets for successful germination and transplanting.
My seed-starting routine ordinarily begins in early to mid March, when I fill several plastic six-packs with a moistened germinating mix and then plant the seeds for my early spring garden of arugula, broccoli, cauliflower, and various lettuces. I carefully place 3 to 4 seeds in each slot, cover them lightly with moistened mix, pat down the mix to be sure that seed and soil are closely joined, then place the six-pack in a clear, plastic-covered container to retain the moisture, until the seeds begin to break ground. At that point, I remove the lids, put the tray of six-packs under grow-lights, and let the seedlings develop 2 pair of true leaves, at which point I transplant the individual seedlings into the separate slots of a plastic six-pack, using a moistened growing mix, and let them develop further under the grow lights. Then I gradually acclimate the seedlings to the cooler and windier climate of the outdoors by moving them to a cold-frame-like cellarway entrance and then to a table on my back terrace, allowing approximately 10 days to 2 weeks to harden off the plants. 

Beginning in late March, I use a similar routine to start the seeds for my summer garden of cucumbers, eggplants, peppers, squash, and tomatoes. But I put these seed trays on a radiator or heating pad to give the seeds a quicker and surer start. And I gradually transplant the tomatoes to larger containers to help them develop a large root mass, planting them deeper down each time to encourage roots to form along their stems, a unique property of tomatoes. 

Your garden is both a lesson and an inspiration. What caused you to become such an avid and thoughtful gardener?
My interest in gardening took seed during my childhood years, thanks in part to growing up just a few blocks from Cleveland’s west side market, where I was dazzled every weekend by the vegetables, fruits, and flowers on display in the truck gardeners’ open stands. During that same period, I also remember summer visits to the country garden of a wealthy uncle, who put a little salt shaker in my hand and told me to try a ripe tomato or two. The memory of those fruits bursting in my mouth and the warmth of the sun all around me made me yearn for a garden of my own. I planted my first vegetable garden some 55 years ago, when I was a graduate student at Cornell University. I didn’t know the first thing about gardening back then, but Cornell’s ag school had a sheaf of guides to tell me how. Then by trial and error and reading, I discovered more each year and more still from the wise old gardeners whom I discovered in the Goosetown area of Iowa City where I live. All of which is to say that gardening, like writing, is always a work in progress and thrives on careful revision.  


Carl H. Klaus, Weathering Winter: A Gardener’s Daybook