Coming full circle with the milkweeds

Getting some stuff started in my greenhouse recently reminded me of how I’ve come full circle in life from playing in the dirt as a kid. It wasn’t the dirt so much as it was the plant – milkweed.

One of the things today’s youth can barely fathom was the summer ritual I endured with several other friends and neighbors. It was called walking beans. Starting at 6 or 7 in the morning, and sometimes in the evenings, we’d walk with corn knives or hoes (another term I’d have to explain to today’s kids) and would chop the weeds out of the soybeans. The primary weeds were milkweeds, cocklebur and volunteer corn.

It was a thankless, monotonous job that was only made tolerable by the friends you did it with. And it was an equal opportunity job, as the farm girls joined in. They key was to try and get lined up next to the prettiest one, as if really mattered if I was lined up closest to or farthest away from her, but still. It made it easier when we threw dirt clods at each other. The best prank to pull though was the old “how’d you miss that weed, you idiot?” ploy. For that one you lagged behind for a bit and then when the person a few rows over got far enough ahead you’d grab a big weed you’d chopped and go push it into the ground  in their rows. Then after they got far ahead and you caught up, you’d casually turn around, scan the field and say: “How’d you miss that weed, you idiot?” They’d be pretty sure they didn’t but couldn’t risk not retracing their steps to make sure.

Bean walking resulted in one surgery for me, when one of my friend’s hoes severed a ligament in my hand. And I’m not sure what, but am pretty sure there may be some effects to come from the Raid that Selma Hansen sprayed on me when we walked for her and Selmer (yes, Selmer and Selma Hansen) in the evenings during the height of mosquito spawn. She claimed Off wasn’t strong enough for them. And who was this punk kid to argue with her? Douse me good, Selma!

I caught the tail end of the “bean buggy” fad, where lazy kids got to actually sit in a seat and spray the weeds. That didn’t last long though as evil corporation Monsato came along and ruined the bean walking biz by developing Round-up Ready beans. Now farmers can just whiz through the field and spray the whole works and the beans will survive.

Some will say that this has contributed to the decline of bees and monarch butterflies. I don’t know. I’m just an English major. But it probably didn’t help.

So where the “full circle” thing comes into play now is that this year for the first time I found myself planting milkweeds. Yes, once the bane of my existence, now I’m trying to grow the #&*^#$ things.

Why?

Because monarch butterflies need them to raise baby butterflies, and what can I say: I like baby butterflies. Unlike human babies, they are quiet, let you sleep and don’t make messes.

One thing I’ve noticed about my spot of heaven in the Hills is that it’s really difficult to find milkweeds and monarchs. I’m sure there’s some rancher out here who can point me otherwise but they aren’t around like they used to be and the milkweeds certainly aren’t nearly as abundant as Canadian thistle.

So last fall I spotted a milk weed, can’t even remember where, and went over and picked a peck of pods. I saved them and tried starting some a few weeks ago. Of the 12x12 container, I only had one seed germinate. I think it was a storage issue for me and I didn’t do a very good job. I’ll keep trying.

The plan, so my neighbors won’t hate me more than they already do, is to pick the pods this fall in my garden before they burst open and all the seeds start flying away. And the air will waft with clouds of butterflies and rainbows will fill the sky. That’s the plan anyway. But as I always advise people, Custer had a plan too.