Fairybells In Fruit

Day 314: My very own pet Prosartes hookeri, growing out under Big Doug, is fruiting, and I hope that means it will seed itself and fill in as I remove more and more of the Stinky Bob. I think my weeding efforts may have been what brought this native plant's seeds to the surface. In fact, Big Doug has two specimens of Fairybells growing at his base. The second did not produce berries, or if it did, they were consumed by critters unknown. Squirrels would be the most likely culprit, and the berries are edible by humans, although bland in taste. Perhaps my diligent program of squirrel relocation also played a role in these plants' occurrence in my yard.

Fuchsia's Edible Fruit

Day 327: Gardeners think of Fuchsias largely in terms of the showy annuals we see in hanging baskets, but there are hardy varieties, some of which even have blossoms as large as those of the annuals. By and large, their stems are woodier and they grow as sprangly bushes which have the potential for taking over six feet of your garden unless you keep them pruned. The flowers come in almost as wide a variety of combinations as those of the annuals, and hummingbirds love to visit them. Some even produce an edible fruit!

I have used the term "edible" loosely here. While not bad-tasting, these little berries are not particularly flavourful, either. They are slightly sweet, but the seedless soft flesh is only very lightly fruity. Eaten three or four at a time, they make me wonder what the result would be if I made a jelly of them the old-fashioned way, boiling down the juice until it set without the addition of pectin. The slightly perfumy note to the meat might produce a truly unique product if I could only gather enough of them for a half-pint (only two of my five varieties of hardy fuchsia have developed berries)! For now, I nibble on them on my way to and from the mailbox, rather more to enjoy the experience of having such an unusual fruit in my garden than for the taste.

Fuchsia Fantasy

Day 319: Until a few years ago, the only "hardy fuchsia" I had ever seen was a small-flowered, shrubby variety, fairly common in Pacific Northwest yards. In the interest of keeping my hummingbirds amused, I set about trying to find a commercial supplier and thus discovered that quite a few of the "hardies" bear flowers equal in size to those of the annuals seen in hanging baskets. Over time, I accumulated five varieties: (top to bottom, left to right) Army Nurse, Dollar Princess, Genii, Erecta and Riccartonii. My choices were governed by the degree of hardiness which varies by species; all of these can withstand winter temperatures of 0° or lower. Of the five, pink Erecta has proved to be the most susceptible to cold. It died back and did not sprout foliage on the old wood as the others did, but re-emerged rather late from the ground. This summer, I was surprised at seeing fuchsia berries on two plants. The fruits are reported to be edible but not particularly desirable unless you are growing one of the varieties specifically developed for taste. In that case it is said that they make a delicious jelly. Testing is in order, yes.

Exclusively Evergreen

Day 303: In western Washington, non-native blackberries are regarded in two conflicting lights. Property owners consider them a scourge because they overrun everything else and create monocultures which can completely envelop small buildings or form impenetrable thickets, earning them the nickname of "the kudzu of the north." On the other hand, home canners love the rich flavour of jams and jellies made with them, as do the people who receive the preserved products as gifts. Most of us have our favourite spots to pick, e.g., places where property owners have neglected to control them and have allowed them to create monocultures with more or less easy access. Boon or burden? Hard to decide.

I've done my part this year to limit the spread of the two non-natives (at least by seed), and yesterday came across a fencerow mound which was exclusively Evergreen (as opposed to Himalayan). In my opinion, this slightly drier berry produces a tastier jam, although you may have to pick a few more to obtain the required amount of juice. I managed to fill my berry bucket in 20 minutes, nibbling as I picked only the plumpest berries. One gallon of berries produced four cups of juice when processed, exactly the amount called for in my recipe. Since I did not filter the juice to clarify it but only removed the seeds, the end result qualifies as jam rather than jelly. The final yield was nine half-pints and "leftovers" sufficient for this morning's toast.

Evergreen Blackberry (Rubus lacinatus) is recognizable by its deeply incised, lacy leaves consisting of five leaflets which persist through winter. Himalayan Blackberry (Rubus ulmifolius, formerly Rubus discolor) bears a toothed oval leaf having three to five leaflets. The two species often occur together.

Fruit Of The Vine

Day 274: If I dawdled a bit on my lunch break today, it was because I was conducting valuable scientific research into whether specimens of Rubus ursinus (common name, Trailing Blackberry) produce a more flavourful fruit when found in proximity to other leafy species as opposed to those with vines travelling across expanses of sun-warmed rock. I was unable to obtain a truly broad sampling on this single occasion; therefore I would strongly suggest that further studies be made over the next few weeks.

Haven In The Hawthorn

Day 94: You'd think Robin Red-Breast would freeze his little gizzard gulping down icy hawthorn berries, but as I watched, this bird swallowed at least half a dozen, rolling them around in his beak to knock off the larger bits of ice. It was party time in the hawthorn, Robins competing with Steller's Jays for their breakfast fruit. Oddly, the birds leave the tree alone until the temperatures plummet. Perhaps these berries are the avian slant on frozen dessert.

Birdie Berries

Day 67: English Holly is considered an invasive species in much or all of western Washington, so although I normally would not cut greens from a living tree to use as decoration, when a Holly made itself available to me at the roadside, I decided to take measures to reduce its spread, if only in a very small way. Assuredly, I would be a poor host to Pik-pik and his mom, wintering on my mantel, unless I provided some fruit for their diet. Pik-pik began begging immediately, little wings spread and his beak turned up to his mother as if to say, "Can't you thaw them out any faster?" Like any youngster, he loves his sweets, but we all know what happens when you eat too many berries. That's one way English Holly spreads, after all.