Maybe Eastern Washington, but Western Washington couldn’t be more different in climate from Wisconsin if it were on another planet.
In fact <<googles>>, while Maine and Wisconsin are similar in climate, they’re both much colder even than Eastern Washington, and several zones colder than Western Washington, which has more in common climactically with the Carolinas. With the additional difference of a great deal more annual rainfall.
My dad used to collect these when he went on his daily walks. He treated them like a spring/green onion, which they rather resemble. So pull them up when you need some onion, and rinse them off, and slice them. They don’t have a strong flavor, but my dad likes them. And the price is right.
Careful, I once gathered wild “onions” in Texas, only to discover upon using a whole pile of them that they were closer in pungency to garlic.
I see rare plants that are listed as found in these three states. I’m not implying the whole of each state has the same climate.
I’m sure there are a handful of plants with tolerances wide enough to appear in such a divergence of climates, but that would far likelier be an exception than a rule. And your response implied that you could expect similar growth habits from blackberries in Washington, Maine, and Wisconsin. That would be false.
For pure invasive evil, it’s tough to beat Lysimachia clethroides, otherwise known as goose neck loosestrife. What the fuck was I thinking when I transplanted some from a friend’s garden?
Yuh. Should only be sold bundled with a flamethrower.
You say that like it’s a bad thing. As long as you know what degree of heat you’re dealing with, garlic is GOOD.
Totally. I used to grow garlic and for several years after I stopped I had volunteers springing up here and there.
I’m not sure I have any real grass but I don’t really care. Dandelion (made wine a couple of times), clover, plantain, wild garlic, oxalis, heal-all, poke all over the place, whatever. It’s all good. The only things I try to get rid of are thistle and stinging nettle-found some of the latter when I was pulling up plants without any gloves on. Ouch.
My entire backyard is wild violets and forget-me-not amidst the softest grass around. I transplanted the violets from the (long-gone) neighboring woods nearly 40 years ago, and they grow everywhere BUT the flower beds they started out in. Every year the person who wants the lawn mowed, and me (the person who mows the lawn) argue about when to start mowing…I hate mowing down my violets. And the forget-me-not was a gift from a neighbor. I gave each of my seven girlfriends a pot of it for high school graduation 35 years ago and planted the rest in the flower beds at the back of the yard. I think it’s cool that these plants are the descendants of ones my neighbor had planted in every home she lived in her entire life.
And every year the lily of the valley spreads a little further throughout the blueberry bed, but it never has jumped into the yard in the 50 years we’ve had it. The blackberries and the mint have died out, though. And I want mint!
Tell him/her that you greatly admire Ladybird Johnson, and you’re doing your bit to ensure wildflowers survive.
I think of her when I drive around, we’ve got lots of wildflowers by the roadsides. The mowing crews don’t mow until the flowers go to seed. I love seeing fields of bluebonnets and Indian paintbrushes by the side of the highway.
Now there’s a Band Name if ever I heard one!!
It’s here, too. I have scars, I tell you, scars, from battling those blackberries. They are monstrous. The thorns are lethal, they spread like mad, and they are taller than I.
They taste pretty good, though, and the birds and bees like them. And I like birds and bees.
My rant: the St. John’s Wort. Or whatever the #$%^^ it is. I’ve been battling it for five years now, and it just keeps reappearing.
And don’t GET me started on the ivy. It tried to open up our place, and it was succeeding. Literally, tear it open… Ivy is evil.
This isn’t a debate I’d stake my sterling reputation on but I actually had the same conversation with an online friend in Washington which led to me looking it up. The blackberries we have growing here aren’t native to Washington state.
This and other invasives can be contained if you plant them in a deep, bottomless pot.
Or pit.
*Turn and run!
Nothing can stop them,
Around every river and canal their power is growing.
Stamp them out!
We must destroy them,
They infiltrate each city with their thick dark warning odour.
They are invincible,
They seem immune to all our herbicidal battering*
Oh, I bloomin’ well give up. There is something funky going on with my linking skills. Look up “prairie violet” for the plant I coddle to the best of my ability…
I, for one, welcome our Invasive Purple Overlords. There’s nothing else that will grow under the three trees out there, so we have a carpet of purple (and some white), and I can pick handfuls to use in potpourri. Got the blackberries, too, taking over the whole side yard. One of my simple minded pleasures in the summer is to go out every day and pick a handful of the ripest and put them in a container in the freezer. Last year I had quarts! … Also over-run every year with spearmint, and I pull up wheelbarrows full of creeping charlie until it gets too hot and muggy and I throw in the towel. Not to mention goldenrod and asters. But no one has mentioned the worst weed of them all, the weed that fills my heart with terror. And rage. And terror…the dreaded Chinese Lantern! I think that’s what it’s called. It’s everywhere. Everywhere!!!
We just moved to our mountain house in GA, well, it’s on the GA/NC border. Geographic anomalies aside, we bushogged our property that was overrun with blackberries. Good god the thorns are everywhere. I have had a burn permit 4 days out of the last 5.
However, violets are doing great in my yard, and after 2 months of Noah-like rain, snow and mud, those soft purple plants are a godsend. I’m not even a good gardener and I think they make my meadow look wonderful.
And no blackberries are growing where the violets are. doubleplus good. (goes to get a burn permit again)
Our backyard violets have finally put in their appearance, and now my postage-stamp yard doesn’t look like a WWI battlefield (trenches courtesy of our dog, mud courtesy of mother nature, desolation courtesy of the black walnut).