Early Autumn Cleanup



This is the side yard now, after I yanked two failing tomato plants and all the green beans from their wooden planters. I cut the remaining brandywine to the base before we left for Minnesota. One month later it's leafing out and I haven't the heart to say no to it just yet. Plus, the spider lives there, the same type of garden orb weaver as last year's.

I dumped the potting soil all about, giving the neighborhood cats the perfect sh*tting pot. I saw the flies this morning. On the poor man's patio are four black plastic pots that I threw some broccoli seed into -just for giggles (thanks Marie, it's that seed). I will re-use the brandywine planter for the sage, which gets heat stroke every summer residing in its current terra cotta (root-bound for sure). I have no idea what to do with the green bean planters. Taking them apart sucks. It felt really good to get rid of those ugly yuckling tomatoes, and I like the room to breathe, imagining perennials in that space.

In my brief stint at the corner nursery, one of the questions most fielded was "How big of a pot do I need for this tomato?" Most of the time the person had already selected a small pot, often a very small pot. Well, here is a picture of our cherry tomato's roots having gone through the hole in the bottom of the planter into the mulch below. The planter is about 14 inches deep.

Mushrooms growing around the new street trees in the mulch put down after planting.

The Threadleaf Ironweed, Vernonia lettermanii, and Bluestem Goldenrod, Solidago caesia, both of which I purchased at the New England Wildflower Society's Garden in the Woods in Massachusetts. These will be moved later.

Zinnia.

Grandma's Tea.


Gold In Them There Kitchens

A couple of weeks ago, Marie of 66squarefeet fame wrote an article about composting on Shelterpop. I then thought I should post a picture of my sloppy, unkempt pile of rotting vegetables and debris at the base of the yew tree. I don't turn it much because its a little hard to get to -maybe once every 45 days. Either way, black soil comes of it, which I spread on the garden and add to new planting holes. Viva compost!

Kingmaker



This is what I saw first -the chewed sides of milkweed seed pods.

chomp chomp chomp

I had not seen any butterflies visit my Ascelpias tuberosa and started to question its good name. These are Monarch caterpillars -storied to feed only on milkweed -now I get it, butterfly weed. My milkweed has grown so well this year that it may have just earned the right to host a couple.

That's a serious turd.

Now I get to wait for them to pupate, chrysalis photos coming in a few days? What's exciting about these two monarchs is that they are 4th generation, which means that when they exit the chrysalis, they will be off to spend the winter in the mountains of Mexico, returning to the southern U.S. next spring to mate. Welcome to Frank's Bed & Asclepias, I hope you enjoy your stay.

Meanwhile, just below the monarchs are these orange aphids. These are also newcomers and prefer the milkweed too. The crazy thing about these aphids, unlike all the other aphids I've had here, is that they are the same color as the flowers of my butterfly weed. While no way conclusive, Aphis nerii seems to be a possible species.


Morning Harvest



This is this mornings harvest. About 3 or 4 pounds of green and yellow beans, two heads of broccoli, several Hungarian wax peppers, a few cubanelle peppers (always forget what color to pick those when I'm at the garden), two habaneros, some small tomatoes (greens are for Betsy's green tomato pie), and two dumb ass cucumbers (they were simply put in too late).

The garden is starting to show signs of cooler, shorter, and what I must say is wetter, days.

This is affecting the tomatoes more than anything. These are supposed to be the generic beefsteaks, shaping up to be more like 6 oz. generic early girls. I did get all these for nothing, so who's complainin. Me? Nah. Next year -trellised tomatoes, select varieties.

Still have more eggplants, many more sweet and hot peppers, tomatoes, celery, and another crop of green beans to go. As soon as something stops producing, I will put in salad greens. Wondering if I should try some broccoli from seed? Why not?

I just went through my seed box. Hello spinach, snap peas, cilantro, parsley, asian green mix, mesclun mix, and radishes. I'll get that broccoli started today.




Two Tornadoes Confirmed and Much Ballyhoo


Okay, so I'm at least I can read the radar! The two tornadoes, one in Park Slope and one in Bayside/Flushing (was it one that just pulled up and then returned?) The screen shot I have showed the rotation in Queens, and I saw the very clear rotation in the radar shot of Park Slope.

But it is hard to imagine how there was straight line wind of 125 mph (estimated) in Middle Village/Forest Hills, yet a tornado just before it and after it, in the same path. I'd like to see the paths. The Park Sloper was rated EF0, the Bayside EF1.


The radar screen shot after the tornado passed through northern Queens. The green and brown concentrated next to eachother in this way reveals possible rotation. When I first saw the radar, this concentration was just west of Park Slope, but instead of green, it was a more intense blue.


The NWS weather publication is here.


This video was taken from two buildings away from my studio. If I was there, I'd have photos. But then, no internet and radar. I think this video shows the storm moving in really well from the south-southwest. I think the key to it is the sideways rain you can see through the window. That rain is being pulled into a rotation, I think, versus being pushed out as in a gust front or straight line wind. But then, what do I know, just a guessing amateur!

El Mariachi


Tonight Betsy and I are going out to a neighborhood Mexican joint with Jen and Felix. On Fridays, the place has mariachi. I met Jen years ago at an artists residency on the Lower East Side. One morning I bumped into Jen as she was running through the neighborhood. That's when I discovered she moved 5 blocks away with her husband Felix. Jen works for a gallery and Felix works at the Frick Museum. Felix coined the term (at least amongst us) "working class artists," to describe those of us with full time jobs as opposed to the "bohemians" of the past. Their art is full of wit, much like them.

This is them, by Felix.

Jen makes unusual, beautifully odd drawings.




Felix was in Reaganography, the show I put together last fall.

He works these days with wood burning tools, pop and political cultural images .


You can see more of Jen's work here and more of Felix's work here.



Worse Than Our Last Tornado

Should the NWS declare a tornado through the heart of Brooklyn, I feel confident stating that it was a stronger tornado than the Brooklyn tornado of August 2007 that tore through my neighborhood, Bay Ridge, and Borough Park around 6 in the morning that day. I'm basing this on the pictures I've been seeing. Despite the drama of the fallen tree images, it is the street lamp and signal knockdowns that are indicating this. If our August 8th storm was shifting from an F0 to an F1, I would think this was an F1 shifting to an F2 at times. It also hit a more densely built, older section of Brooklyn which I think, if not actually doing more damage, contributed to the perception that it did. I wish I had saved the base radial velocity doppler image, where I clearly saw the blue and brown signature coming in off the harbor towards Park Slope.

Look Out!

..Friggin tornados!

image courtesy of wunderground.com


Update:

National Weather Service New York will perform damage survey in
Staten Island... Brooklyn and Queens on Friday...

A National Weather Service storm survey team... in partnership with
the NYC office of emergency management will conduct a damage survey
in Staten Island... Brooklyn and Queens on Friday morning. Once all
data has been collected... a determination will be made as to whether
a tornado or straight line winds occurred Thursday evening.

Until all damage is inspected and data has been reviewed... a
determination cannot be made. Media is requested to not interfere
with the survey so that it can be done in a timely manner. More
information will be released as it becomes available.


They'll be looking for circular patterns in the debris field. That will be tough though, unless large items fell -like trees. I did see very distinct blue and brown tornadic signature somewhere near Brooklyn's waterfront - I think, based on this alone, we may see an F0.


The Art Project


I cannot be entirely sure of the reason, but I want to tell the story of a house renovation project in the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn. Of late I have been collecting requests to re-enter this line of work after what has been essentially a 5 year hiatus. Maybe it's worth rehashing my experience so that I simply do not trip over what's been forgotten. Perhaps you will gain something from it, or, at the least, live vicariously through it should you have ever dreamed of this work.
_____________________________________


An art project is the carpenter's epithet for creative, but often complicated, solutions to carpentry problems. I don't remember when I first heard it, although I hear echoes bouncing off teenage precipices. The last time I heard it applied to my work was at the age of 33 on a job building out a yoga studio. Soon after I left that job, given too much masculine exceptionalism amongst the other hires to ever really find my place. I felt pretty certain, then, that this was it for me, but one last opportunity was pushed across the table before I left it for good. This is that story.

In late 2002, the same friend who brought me onto that yoga job, asked me to finish up a job for him at a 4 story building in Williamsburg. I was hesitant to get involved, having had some carpentry experience, mostly building garden structures, but certainly not as much as I deemed necessary. He assured me it would be a piece of cake -all I would be doing was the easy finish work of tacking the shoe moulding on each floor's baseboard. Easy -done in a month, or less.

What I didn't know was that he wanted out, and by bringing me in, he could do it guilt-free. What was supposed to be a one month job turned out to be 5 months long, and by the end, I was leading our motley crew of an ex-con, artists, druggie(s), theatre set designer, and Ben -from Iowa. I knew that something was wrong my first day on the job -I was to start on the fourth floor, the uppermost. This, even I understood, was inverted. When rehabbing an old building, it's best to start from the foundation and work your way up. It, then, should be no surprise to you that that building has since been completely demolished, an identical building of cinderblock in its place. Why this, despite all that work, time, money, was still financially agreeable to the owner, is beyond me. But the truth is, when we revealed to her the lack of structural integrity, she asked only, "How long do we got?" Less than 5 years later that building was up for sale. And now its gone.

After the short stint at the yoga studio, I moved onto something else. Honestly, I cannot remember all the things I have done for money between the memorable jobs. I might have built a concrete and cinderblock folly for a garden I built in Park Slope. I think that's it, because Ben helped me with that project. By winter time, I have no idea where I was getting my cash from. No idea. No doubt then, that I was eager to sign on to a friend's home renovation as the lead carpenter. The deal was that he, the owner, would be the GC ,or general contractor, responsible for managing the job site, all contractors, expediting projects like trash removal or ordering things like siding, finding a plumber. All else was left to me. I became a mason, an electrician, rough carpenter, finish carpenter, occasional sheetrocker (but no mud man am I), tile setter, and my least favorite -demolition man. I was all these things on the previous jobs, but this time, for a friend's home, it mattered -my name would be all over it and the relationship would be at stake.

Part I
The House



It was old, and owned by people without much money for repairs over Williamsburg's last hundred years. In fact, like so many in this neighborhood, it wasn't a patrician brownstone, or even working-class brick. No, it was wood-framed with a rubble foundation -the cheapest methods at the time, reworked over the years to accommodate the multiple families living in this modest two story with basement. Each successive repair was laid right over the last, each new window was smaller and junkier than the last. The home's original siding was its sheathing, and like so many in working class neighborhoods, the owner opted for the first wave of asphalt shingle replacement siding, and then the second wave of aluminum. These were laid directly over the previous siding -after all, who had money for demolition and removal? No insulation was ever present to help keep the hot water heating in. Patchwork fixes and awkward additions created conditions for deterioration and concealment. The electricity? Don't even ask.

Nothing would be left untouched. In preparation, I bought a couple of books on carpentry before we started, thinking that experienced practitioners willing to write would point me in the right direction before I went off the side of a cliff. Ninety nine percent of that reading was worth every minute, with only a few misteps on product recommendations along the way. If you ever want to renovate an old house or just know what your carpenter is doing, buy this reference book by George Nash. Another book, which shamefully I cannot find or remember the title or author, was extremely helpful minus those product recommendations.


The rear.


This Morning...


...I simply felt how low the sun is. It sparks a mini-depression, an alert, to summer's end. Get outside, man! Get outside. Autumn will come early this year.

Morning tigers sit watch.

The last 'New Dawn' blooms.

The sunflower begins its autumnal celebration.

The sun now low enough for Monkshood, Aconitum, to accept it.

Hips blush under cooler nights.

Morning cosmos, cheerful as my wife.

And the dusky purple-blue of the perennial Ageratum, Eupatorium ceolestinum, a switch flipped, how fast, how fast.


Freedom Coach


I was in the studio the other day, working on some unfinished paintings. On the radio was Fresh Air. Terry Gross was interviewing Jonathan Franzen. I had read his book The Corrections and, after the interview, am considering his new book Freedom. I was interested in something he had to say on adulthood:

"And the key moment of becoming an adult, the difference, one of the defining differences between an adult and a kid is that adults relinquish a certain kind of freedom. You can't lie around on your bed all afternoon, and you can't be possibly any number of things. You have to only be one thing, or a couple of things (my italics)."

I am haunted by this. What does one want to do with one's life? Fumble along with the impulsively formed ideas of a teenager? What of making money? The notion of being "one thing" has been going on a tear in my mind the last few years, growing in strength as I approached 40. What is it that keeps me from painting every free moment? How much time should my garden activities be taking? Should I be making a living in the landscape, instead of my current job? It's like I have been living a life visible through a kaleidoscope, looking in there are all these pieces of me spinning around, somehow not whole or resolved, but you know there is a whole person there.

When I was in residence at Weir Farm last year, I spent much more time exploring the landscape than painting. I read books, I photographed, I blogged. Why paint when I can communicate in such a rapid manner? Why paint the fleeting light, the shifting values? Why paint at all?

I've been working on a small group of Prospect Park images. Each includes people -this is unusual for me. The colors are insanely green, toxic green. My colors are not to everyone's taste, but then what is?

Neither of these is near done yet, although this one is a little further along. Space, atmosphere, distance is important. People get hooked on technique, but that's just a means to the desired end.
_________________________________

I left the studio to do a garden coaching session. I had been considering removing this service from the blog, and was about to, until I was contacted by Aimee last week. She moved to a new place, had a history of gardening, and just needed some advice. I was a little early, so I walked around the block.

Pokeweed allowed to grow ornamentally.

Those berries look so good -don't!




The session went well -jeez, like it should! She had giant fig trees and some old shrubs (hibiscus, privet, forsythia) in the yard, decent, but dry, soil and an amenable landlord. An amazing yard, actually, with plenty of opportunity for growing. And lots of figs -a squirrel chowed down on them while we talked.

Afterward, I thought about making a living in gardens or landscapes. I thought about my dead end job. I thought about my mother in Florida trying to live on social security alone. I thought about painting. I thought about being 66 years old without much feeling of security. I thought about Jonathan Franzen writing a book called Freedom.


Fair Competition



After Marie at 66squarefeet posted on the vegetable competition at this weekend's fair, I've begun looking at my vegetables differently. Like, are they good looking? Where previously I cared not for scarred eggplants, I'm now saying to myself "no, no these couldn't win. What's causing these scars anyway?"

I'm not sure how I feel about this kind of competition. It does seem a weird thing to get hooked into, a madness maybe. And I'm already mad about this or that -to add another thing? I'm rambling now, trying to work something out.

Beans.

I took dozens of pictures of the rows and rows of competitive vegetables at the Minnesota State Fair two weeks ago. Why? I'm not really sure -maybe to mock it, but also to revel in its color scheme, the organizing. Fair competitions are all about categorization. Fair competitions are also where local pride expectorates, even over the most miniscule achievements. And to avoid "Well we're talking apples and oranges here, how could you compare my tomato with that one," they divide best tomato into 100 variations of best tomato.

Tomatoes.

Potatoes.

What non-winning potatoes look like. Would you enter these?

All of this had me feeling a little like this and that.

Which, of course is also a competition -decorated gourds. I believe there's also a scarified gourd competition, exemplified by the gourd on the right which instructs people to teach their kids to eat vegetables. It's only at an agricultural fair that I begin to see the connection between what we're being told to eat and what the farmer's growing -and it's all been written into the skin of a pumpkin. Moses be proud.

The potted herbs competition.

And Christmas trees (these were really perfect).

And the sideshow category of the largest, and most inedible, of everything.


This was actually the winner, not the runny one. Notice the difference in the "largest" category -shit don't need to be pretty, just big. Big is it's own beauty.

Banana squash.

And of course, the grand daddy of them all, the pumpkins.

Here's the winner.

For the record (1036 lbs.).

Last weekend while we were driving home from Minnesota, Garrison Keillor showed up with the Prairie Home Companion on Chicago Public Radio. He was broadcasting from the grandstand at the fair. If you listen to the program, honestly, I think he captured the atmosphere of the Minnesota State Fair -the largest state fair in the U.S. (I think Texas is now giving it some competition).

What is apparent at the MnSF is the intermingling of the city and the farm. Minneapolis and St. Paul are the urban centers of a region that has made its wealth on the backs of grain farmers. Minneapolis was, until fairly recently, a center of grain milling. Some of the largest companies in the area are General Mills, Cargill, Pillsbury. Many of the people in these cities still have farming in the family, and many more are only a generation or two away from the farm. The people who live in the city still retain a little of that rural culture. But one thing for sure, at its core, the fair is the once-a-year opportunity for rural folks to gather in crowds, take the stage, and exert rural culture's influence on the city.

All this leaves me wondering what an urban county fair will be like. What cues will be taken from the country fair? Will it be tongue in cheek, stoked by irony? A country fair in the city, that is age old. What of a city fair in the city? Funny, more than anything I can imagine the retail exhibitors and the food vendors. But, will we judge our dogs instead of goats and horses? Or will we get goats? Vegetables -well, that's obvious and easy for all of us trying our hands at vegetable gardens or farms. And chickens -sure. But should we have FFA -Future Farmers of America chapters? How about 4H? Something new? What or who defines fair fodder. How do we redefine something so heavy with tradition? Any ideas?

I am going to miss tomorrow's fair. So I hope to learn something about it from the press or the way more connected bloggers. I'm wondering now about a King's County Fair as a defining activity or event (Ha! Like Woodstock or something), something exemplary of a generation or cultural attitude. Except, instead of drugs and screwing, there'll be cheese made in the cellar of a brownstone and presentations of urban vermicomposting. We may as well accept who we are.


Today's Haul



This is this morning's haul from the beach farm. We cut 10 heads of broccoli, several flat-podded green beans, some collards, and a few eggplants and little tomatoes. We gave the biggest broccoli head to Park Ranger Thaddeus who happened on by. Consider it a bribe.

Still no cabbage worms on the broccoli. I have noticed white flies, which are no big deal when it comes to our vegetables, but they are a vector for disease. I imagine the white flies were brought in on potted plants or starts. Someone threw a rotting zuke or cuke into our patch. Thing was covered with bugs and slugs.


More Pics Of Those Funky Cosmos



As I said I would, I've posted some new photos of the funky cosmos. Turns out this is happening on two plants, but just one set of stems on each.

Not so clear, but you get the picture.

Maybe some botanist or plant pathologist will happen upon this blog and clear it all up.

Or not. This one's kind of neat. It's all coming out of one cosmos flower.


Dirt Farm Rocks


We were anticipating anything as we drove to the beach farm after being away for two weeks. The water being shut off was my main concern, but weeds, toppled plants, bugs -who knows. I practically jogged to the plot. When I arrived to see it I had only one thought -dirt farming is awesome!

It must be because I was without my camera for awhile, as I can only find pictures of our beach farm vegetables posted on August 4th. That was 30 days ago, but not that long ago by some standards.

This was our broccoli one month ago.

This is our broccoli today. About 5 heads were five or six inches across.

I brought my mesh and nylon to wrap the heads and was disappointed that they were so large already -I never expected such rapid growth. But the kicker was that there were no cabbage worms -not one. Where did they go? Two weeks ago there were hundreds of worms in all sizes. Have they all morphed to moths, flown away from their childhood patch?

Tomatoes are growing and growing. Because I didn't do the work for trellising, they are spreading horizontally. So it's no surprise that they are showing signs of blight on the lower leaves.

The hot peppers have grown stout -nice.

These Hungarian yellows are very productive.

These sweet peppers are doing well too. I think they are cubanelle.

Here are the eggplants on the left, beans and sweet peppers on the right. In the back, the cucumber trellis.

We weren't around to teach these guys where to go (that's up) and, as is typical, a mildew has formed. We planted three varieties, and 'Salad Bush" has evaded the mildew the best.

The slender Japanese eggplants are producing well.

The Italians are beginning to produce.

The "infill" bush beans are also gearing up. I seeded these wherever another plant succumbed during the first three weeks (recall on again off again watering).

The garden in context.

The 5 broccoli heads and 6 eggplants we harvested. The tomatoes are from the side yard pots.

Speaking of those side yard pots... It really is something else, growing in pots or planters, without a watering system, without endless soil, with the entrenched diseases. I know that I have not set up an ideal growing environment for all that I've tried to grow. However, the cool weather greens have always done well, and the tomatoes always produce -although late and lightly. Some years the beans have done extraordinarily despite small planters, but not this year. The broccoli and snow peas have never been a success.

What I really want in this very public space is a good looking garden, and by this time, with so much outdoor opportunity left, the vegetables in their pots look decrepit. There's little one can do to overcome it, too. I suppose local is going to have to be 10 miles away -not just outside. I'm very excited to have the beach farm and to see it produce so well in a very short time is heartening. Plans are swelling for next season. Swelling indeed.




Garden Labor Day

The side garden has gone through resuscitative treatment. The herbs clipped and watered. The tomatoes lifted (pulling held off, damn little green orbs!). Dead cosmos yanked. Cosmos that only produced super fat greens yanked. All flowers dead-headed. Asters staked. Weeds pulled. Still flowering phlox chopped to allow new flowering shoots. Max sunflowers tied back. Sidewalk swept. Garbage bagged. Hey, New Dawn is flowering again. The natives I planted right before we left have done well. Looking forward to October -that's when all that I learned about the side yard this year will be put into action.

By the way...

I took these photos before I left for Minnesota. One branch on one plant of cosmos is producing these elongated disc flowers. I've seen this before, maybe once or twice in a lifetime. What causes it? My immediate thought is something hormonal, something viral, or maybe just a common expression of a recessive gene.

Not all are the same length. They tend to stay green, or greenish yellow -unlike the normal cosmos disc flowers which are a strong yellow.

Once my camera batteries charge up, I'll take some new photos. The elongated disc flowers look a little different now, almost resembling yellow-green aster flowers to which family cosmos belong.

This evening we will be off to the beach farm to see how that has held up. We can expect anything.


Present


Upon returning tonight, I couldn't help but examine the gardens by street light. Oh. Ew. The side yard is a disaster. Tomatoes completely fallen over, herbs dried and crispy, cosmos broken, all things in pots dead or nearly so. Hmm. My attempt to get some neighbors to water was half-hearted. I mean really, ask someone to walk back and forth 80 feet with a schlapping watering can, legs over fences. Even I don't like it.

It isn't the first dead garden I've returned to and it won't be the last. It is sad, but then, I have so little patience for things in pots, anyway. From what I can see tonight, most of what lives in the ground is great -a little maintenance here or there will top things up. It is clear to me that for a garden to do well, the gardener must be present -even when he or she is away. How this presence manifests itself is up to you.


Dream Repair


For those of you dreaming of building a big house in the suburbs, or the country -a few words of advice. In order to build out the attic with a half bath, or to have a carpeted room over the garage (a little bit of hers/his?) or even to find a way to get a double sink full bath with whirlpool and shower, do not, simply do not sacrifice the quality of your materials and shuck the value of time worn techniques. No, it doesn't matter that your GM or your carpenter tells you he can do without the house wrap or tar paper. Don't listen to him when he tells you he can save you a bundle by using half-inch OSB and staples for the sheathing. And simply walk away, or better -give him the hand, when he lets you in on a little known secret in siding technology that will save you so much that all your dreams will come true.

Because this is what happens. In 10 years. An OSB sheathed and sided house in a cold and wet climate is a sin. Forgo the house wrap, and you'll be sent straight to hell. Having saved so much on these items, you decided then to build the house extra large. It's a good thing the siding is so cheap because you now have even more surface area to cover with it. A house built this large is not a throwaway item, but it doesn't matter, because your rationality was clogged by your outsized dreams, your magnificent belief in the power of house and home.

Over the last four summers, my wife and I have been replacing the siding and sheathing on Rex's house. For the record, he did not build this house -he bought it from those who did (divorce, ugly). He bought it for the woods; the house he has changed not one bit from the day he bought it 9 years ago. Sometimes I fantasize that this house would burn down, replaced by insurance money that would build a smaller, well-built house. But Rex is too old for all that turmoil. He's happy that we work on the structure, staving off more costly repairs.

On this day, although we had greater goals, we ran out of materials and called it a year. It was hot and humid, phantom mosquitoes biting along with the real ones. Southerly flow, storm's coming. Let's hit Little Long before the rain. As we rolled from the concrete pad, we were amazed by the hundreds of large dragon flies circling and spiraling the front yard. An event.

The phenomena continued on the road to Little Long Lake. In some spots, birds flocked to wires, apparently to catch dragonflies. The roads here are dirt and gravel and this one is being widened and paved.

The water was cold -at first. A slight breeze was being pulled in by the thunderstorms to our east. The rain never came. We were the only swimmers. There was a man with a dog fishing in a boat.

Can you see the fish?

You can see the watermilfoil, Myriophyllum spicatum. Imagine it like underwater mint.

Little Long has little of houses on it. To the west is an esker. The trail I imagined last year passes by the lake along the esker.

Purple Loosestrife makes its appearance in many, but not all, of the marshes around here. It's a wonderful addition where it is spotty, undoubtedly part of how it perseveres. Rex says it is declining in the area, but I am skeptical.