Blackberry Bounty

It's Blackberry time here in Kansas!  It's Blackberry time here in Kansas! 

There should be a song written to the wonders of blackberries here in the Flint Hills, a boisterous song to rouse the spirit and whet the palate.  Many fruits are iffy in these dry, thinly-covered hills, but blackberries are usually not among them. The peach crop can be wiped out with an inopportune freeze, strawberries die with the droughts, the watermelons and cantaloupes survive only at the mercy of the squash bugs, and grapes can disappear overnight as the June Bugs arrive, but blackberries, oh blackberries, usually can be counted for a fresh, sweet beginning to the summer.  Okay, maybe except for last year.


I grow a number of blackberries varieties, in theory, but I may be down to one or at most two varieties in reality.  I originally began with a row of thornless 'Arapaho', 'Navaho', 'Black Satin', and 'Cherokee', but those original plants have dwindled with crown gall and I've moved suckers everywhere to grow in other areas, so it's entirely possible that I've ended up with only one of the original cultivars (probably 'Navaho', which seemed the most vigorous) and certainly no more than two of that group.  This year I'm making a concerted effort to provide these thornless varieties some deep watering at intervals (economically, with soaker hoses), in an attempt to improve the number of canes and the harvest.

A couple of years ago, the University of Arkansas released some varieties that fruit on primocanes as well as the floricanes.  Hoping to get two harvests each year of blackberries, I purchased three plants each of Prime-Jim, Prime-Jan (both 2 years old) and Prime-Ark 45 (a yearling) to try.  Of the former two, Prime-Jim seems to be the better variety for the Flint Hills.  It is a thorned variety, but the canes are stiff and erect, not trailing and grabbing at everything in sight like the old classic varieties.   This year, my three Prime-Jim plants have many, many more berries than Prime-Jan, and they are ripening at a quick pace and all at one time.  There are so many berries on Prime-Jim that I don't even care what the second harvest is like because the first out-does any other blackberry I've seen.  Prime-Ark 45, which is said to be the best producer and have the largest berries, is not old enough yet for me to evaluate, and it has been at a disadvantage anyway, putting on most of its current growth during late summer of last year in the midst of a drought. 

I suppose I should expect hybrid blackberries to do well in an environment where wild blackberries grow up everywhere that is not mowed, burned, or otherwise treated, but one can never be sure what evils man may have created during the "improvement process."  Except for a little bacterial crown gall, blackberries are normally trouble-free for me.  In fact, my only problem with blackberries is that I rarely harvest enough of them to use in jam or jelly.  My family tends to eat them off the vine, unwashed, but oh so warm and sweet (the berries, not the family), as fast as they ripen on the canes.  Blackberries stain us, and sustain us, until the main garden bounty comes with summer.

Mme Plantier, I presume?

'Madame Plantier'

Just because I feel guilty about trashing a world-treasured Alba rose in my last rose post, I'll show you an Alba rose that I really wish I'd planted years ago.  My one-year-old Madame Plantier bloomed for the first time this year and I am most definitely impressed by the young maiden.

Unlike my spoiled 'Maiden's Blush', 'Madame Plantier' gave me quite a display this year, young though she was.  She was covered from head to toe for three weeks with 3 inch blush-white blooms, and every one of them just as perfect as the picture to the right.  No blight, no browning buds, no thrip damage.   I think "scrumptious" describes this rose best.  Somewhere, in my reading, I had gained an impression of  'Madame Plantier' as being less than a star, so I had avoided her until recently. What a mistake that was, because a star she is!

'Madame Plantier' is an 1835 Alba bred by Plantier of France.  Well, I think she's an Alba.  Some references list her as a cross of Rosa alba and Rosa moschata, while others list her as a Damask rose, the result of a cross of R. damascena and R. moschata.  Regardless of the actual heritage, the clustered blooms lose their blush as they age, much like a young lady growing into womanly maturity, and they end up flat with a nice button eye.  The bush is almost thornless, completely hardy without protection here, and completely blackspot and fungus free so far.  I've read that she's going to get much bigger, and the canes will stay flexible, so I've provided her lots of room for her anticipated 8 by 8 foot size and drooping arms. What a spectacle that will be!

While researching this rose, I stumbled upon a reference that characterized the scent of 24 Old Garden Roses, and so I can report that Madame Plantier contains 31.44% 2-phenyl-ethanol, 28.11% benzyl alcohol, 21% hydrocarbons, 8.63% geraniol, 5.91 % nerol, and trace amounts of 20 other organic compounds.  Do we really believe that we can take the essence of a rose and distill it to a few carboniferous chemicals?  Blasphemous! This formula is TMI (too much information) and reveals too much of the soul of this beautiful rose, and so I will now attempt to forget I ever heard it.  There are none so cynical as a rosarian who has seen a favored rose stripped of its mystery.

Chipping Cheerfully

Just for those who were wondering how the Chipping Sparrow eggs were doing, I'm happy to report that the babies have hatched and are growing just fine.  Momma Chipping Sparrow, however, looks a bit harried and tense as she tries to keep these hungry little critters fed.

Lately, watching these little bits of life develop, it strikes me that there is nothing quite so life-affirming as watching a nest of baby birds go from egg to fledgling.