In the Garden

When I decided to plant a veggie garden this year, I had no idea it would create a habitat that would draw such an interesting variety of insects. One of the biggest surprises was this bee:

Googling around, I learned that it is a squash bee, which specializes in pollinating squashes and cucumbers. Two things about this bee fascinate me. First, how in the heck did it find my squashes? It’s not like there are tons of veggie gardens near me. Second, what is that drop of liquid between its eyes?

I don’t know if I’ll ever understand the answer to the first question. But I found a blog about pollinators written by a grad student, Athena, who studies bumble bee foraging ecology, and she answered the second question for me here. It turns out what I thought was a drop of liquid was an illusion. The bright lemon yellow patch you see just in front of the antennae is part of the bee’s exoskeleton, and they have a little bump there.

I was interpreting the yellow patch as highlights from the squash blossom reflecting in liquid. The illusion was compounded by the fact that it’s easy to think the bump is a drop of liquid if you’re already thinking along those lines, and if you think of the dark areas in between the eyes, which make a rather circular pattern, as shadows at the edges of the drop.

By the way, Athena also told me that only males have that yellow patch. Now I’m curious as to whether it’s used to attract females or compete with other males. So many questions about one tiny little bee! I’m definitely planting butternut squash again next year and keeping my eyes out for these guys.

In addition to bees in my garden, there are little brown butterflies, which I’ve never seen before. I presume they’re feeding on pollen and/or nectar as well:

And, of course, the insects that are drawn to my garden have their own predators, in the form of dragonflies:

I’ve always felt good that I have a couple of small plots of native wildflowers in my yard. I put those in specifically to provide habitat for native animals (although the Japanese beetles are helping themselves as well, darn them!). It never occurred to me that I could do so much by planting food for myself. Definitely a bonus, not to mention the cheap entertainment I get from watching and photographing all of these critters. Plus, I’m learning new things. This is definitely a project that has paid for itself!

Feed Me, Seymour!

Note: Glacier pictures will resume next week. I figured “all Glacier, all the time” might be montonous, so I’ll mix it up a bit while I work my way through them.

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I honestly had no concept what butternut squash were capable of when I put 16 seeds in the ground this spring. All I thought about was the possibility they wouldn’t germinate, and since I loves me some butternut squash, I needed at least two to make it–one male, one female. So sixteen seeds went into the ground. Fourteen germinated. Yay! I still didn’t see the problem.

Now, I see the problem:

There was so much running into the yard, and I couldn’t bear to trim it back. Would it hurt the plants? And how could I destroy potential food? It just didn’t seem right. Anyway, for all I knew, each plant would only produce one or two squash. I’ve never gardened before and have no idea what to expect. Except I’m now starting to see little squashes. And now that I understand where those little squashes start, I’m realizing that the eight I’ve counted so far is a tiny fraction of what’s on tap if things continue on their present trajectory:

There’s something a little creepy about the squash. The sudden overflow of the garden occurred while I was out of town for a week, as if it were plotting this advance when I wasn’t looking. On top of that, the plants have tiny little hairs that seem to leap off and embed themselves into your skin like a sliver if you come anywhere near. It feels like being stung by stinging nettle.

All of this brought to mind Audrey II, the carnivorous plant from Little Shop of Horrors that grew by eating human blood. So now I find myself muttering, “Feed me, Seymour” when I’m out in the garden. If I suddenly disappear, you will know what happened to me!

The tomatoes, on the other hand, are well-behaved, even though they are gangley. I have nothing to fear from them. Right?

Right?

By the way, I do realize that squash cannot stay in the air like that unassisted. I’d found a web page of someone who builds trelises for theirs so they don’t take up so much space. Then they use onion bags or panty hose to create little hammocks to support the squash. So I looped a bunch of runners back over the fence and am planning to do the same.

If anyone has good butternut squash recipes, I’d love to have them! Especially if the recipe would be good with frozen, pureed squash. I’ll store some whole in the basement, but I think I’ll be steaming and mashing a bunch more.