Turn over a bean leaf in July and you may find a row of white pinheads hovering beneath it. They are too orderly for dust and too widely spaced for mold. Each one hangs at the end of a filament so fine that the egg seems to be floating a fraction of an inch away from the leaf. The obvious…
On a June morning, a garden can seem to have developed a strange habit. White froth appears around a lavender stem, in the fold of a strawberry leaf, or where a blade of grass meets its sheath. It looks freshly blown. Rain does not wash it into streaks, and no snail trail explains how it arrived halfway up a plant.…
Read more about The white foam on garden stems is a spittlebug nursery
In early March, the edge of a snowbank can reveal a lawn that looks as if it has been badly stored. The grass is flattened into pale circles. Some blades are glued together in a papery crust. In the dampest places, fine gray-white threads stretch across the surface like cobwebs laid down overnight. Spiders are not the only explanation. Those…
Read more about Those cobwebs beneath melting snow may be snow mold
By the last morning of the year, a deciduous tree has usually stopped pretending. The leaves are gone. The soft green noise of summer has fallen away. Every fork, scar, old pruning cut, and awkward branch angle is suddenly visible against the winter sky. That is when the green clump looks most suspicious. High in an apple, poplar, maple, hawthorn,…
After a night of October rain, a garden bed can look as if someone has quietly moved in furniture. Yesterday there was only dark mulch under the asters, a few yellow leaves, and the damp edge of the path. This morning, a cluster of pale caps is standing there on thin stems, glossy with rain, arranged with the confidence of…
Read more about Why mushrooms rise overnight after autumn rain
A spotless October garden has excellent public relations. The stems are gone. The leaves are bagged. The beds are shaved down to mulch and labels. From the sidewalk, it looks responsible, almost moral, as if the gardener has defeated decay itself and sent it away in kraft paper sacks. Here is the irritating truth: a garden that clean is often…
Read more about Your spotless fall garden is not the virtue you think it is
If you ever find a dead fly glued to a window, a fence rail, or the tip of a late-summer plant stem, do not wipe it away too quickly. Look at the wings first. If they are lifted like tiny glass doors, and a pale dusting sits around the body, you may be looking at one of the strangest deaths…
Read more about The fungus that turns flies into launch pads
By early August, a tree trunk can start to look faintly haunted. A dry amber husk grips the bark at eye level. Another clings to a fence post beside the compost heap. One turns up on the underside of a hydrangea leaf, still shaped like a creature, but light as old paper. These are not dead cicadas. They are the…
Read more about The empty shells cicadas leave on summer bark
In late April, a bed of young greens can look perfect at breakfast and peppered by lunch. The arugula leaves are still bright and tender. The mustard seedlings are standing. The radish tops look cheerful. But every leaf has acquired tiny round holes, as if someone spent the morning tapping them with a miniature paper punch. The damage is so…
September fruit has a habit of looking more mysterious after you pick it. A cluster of grapes that seemed almost black on the vine turns blue-gray in the basket. A plum looks as if it has been dusted with flour. Touch either one and your fingertip leaves a dark, glossy mark, as though you have rubbed a small window through…
