Their delicate white flowers are some of the earliest of our spring display. In a blink, they transform into a tall spindle of seed pods. Even when I gently brush against them, they explode like fireworks casting their spell across the warming spring soil. Fortunately, I wear glasses. The little missiles splatter my face, but they don’t blind me. I flinch in surprise every time.
In just a couple of weeks, the ground will magically transform into a carpet of them happily intent on world domination.
In an unfamiliar garden, it makes sense to let all plants grow until you identify them, or they show their intent. Then decide their fates.
Even before I knew their true ID, I called them pop weed & decided they were not welcome to take over the flower beds I was creating. So began the battle…
Now I know these little monsters are named Hairy Bittercress (aka Cardamine hirsuta). They’re annuals – seed factories. The best defence is easy –
NEVER LET THEM GO TO SEED!
The straightforward action might be to get out there & weed like crazy.
Yes, that helps + it’s good anti-Seasonal-Affects- Disorder therapy.
Yes, it removes the offending seed creator, but many of last year’s seeds are still on the ground getting ready to sprout … just more weeding for tomorrow!
AND pulling out the weed stirs up the soil as far down as its roots went. That brings up the weed seeds from years gone by… even more weeding for tomorrow and the day after that!
Each winter, I lay down 2-4 inches of fish mulch.
2 to 4 inches.
It buries any seeds so deep they won’t get enough light to start growing.
If you’ve already mulched, the problem’s solved before it’s even begun. 🙂
It’s not really a pretty shrub, but still, I’d like a thicket of Indian Plum in our border.
It’s specifically because of the leaf buds & blossoms in February. They calm my cabin fever & help me through the last several weeks of winter. Against the grey skies, the leaves look so perky & hopeful … and determined. Even the inconsequential greenish-white flowers are exciting when little else is happening.
Indian plum grows happily in Partial Shade, not needing the prime Full Sun real estate that I protect for really showy plantings. It’s common across the coastal Pacific Northwest below Vancouver Island.
When we lived on Cedar Hill, there was a large suckering thicket behind our house, at the base of the rocky slope. The robins nested in the multiple stems of the 12-15 ft tall thicket. The shrubs did their thing in the understory before the gary oaks hogged most of the sunshine through summer.
Perhaps best known as Indian Plum, Oemleria cerasiformis, is sometimes called June Plum, Osoberry, Oregon Plum and Bird Cherry.
It might sound like a promising fruit source, but those inconsequential flowers turn into inconsequential fruits. I’ve heard the berries shift through a pretty orange kaleidoscope before maturing into a dark purple-black, but I can’t say I’ve noticed. The shrub blends into the background as other plants compete for attention in later spring.
I did check out the un-inticing tiny black plums once.
Perhaps it’s best to consider it wildlife forage.
The early flowers feed hungry resident Anna’s hummingbirds e and signal that the Rufus will soon be returning from warmer climes. The leaves & fruit provide forage for birds, deer & other mammals. Isn’t it just good Karma to host a thicket?