Roadsides as runways: trend spotting invasive plants

Purple loosestrife as a roadside attraction.
Dee Salomon
Purple loosestrife as a roadside attraction.
I can’t help but notice the roadside plants while I am driving. This spring, after an otherwise violent brush cutting along Route 7, I spotted a large and glorious patch of trillium; the other day I noticed that the super-spreader Japanese stiltgrass has taken over the sides of a local thoroughfare that shall not be name-shamed. Roadside plants are both a seasonal timestamp and a leading indicator of what invasives we will soon be grappling with inside the boundaries of our own properties. A kind of drive-by trend spotting.
A new-ish umbellifer dotting the roadsides this summer, Wild parsnip, Pastinaca sativa, is a tall, fennel-shaped invasive that has, thankfully, now withered to a brown skeleton. For cyclists this summer it was a surprise, then a worry. Skin contact with the plant can cause burns and blistering welts. If it gets into the eye it can even cause blindness.
The plant that is currently engaging my peripheral vision from the road is purple loosestrife, Lythrum salicaria. By the time you read this it will be winding down its blossom and going to seed. One is forgiven for not taking this one seriously; with its skinny stems and distractingly vibrant flowers it is arm candy to the native goldenrod it often accompanies. I saw it in a bouquet at a dinner last week and thought that we should all be making purple loose strife bouquets in an effort to stop its spread. True to its name, this loosestrife is a troublesome invasive that bullies out native neighbors with a combination of its dense perennial rootstock and prolific seeder. According to the Connecticut Invasive Plant Working Group, a mature plant can produce more than 2.5 million seeds annually.
Purple loosestrife is most often seen in wetland areas; its seeds can germinate even after a couple of years spent under water. Cut it down to prevent the seeds from spreading; it is hard to pull out by the root. If you only have a few, consider using a shovel to dig out the roots, which you will need to do consistently over a few years. It does get better. Chemical control, especially in wetlands, is best left to a professional.
There have been attempts at biological control against purple loosestrife; four types of insects were approved for release in Connecticut years ago to slow down the plant’s spread including a leaf eating beetle and a root eating weevil. My sense was, over the last few years, populations of the invasive plant were declining. This year, perhaps due to the mild winter or the heavy rainfall, it seemed to be everywhere.
There are both native and invasive loosestrifes co-existing in our area so a quick lesson to help you distinguish between them. There is a smaller, paler purple-flowered native called Winged loosestrife, Lythrum alatum, that I have never seen here and would like to know if any readers have encountered the species nearby. If you have, please send me an email at dee@theungardener.com
The other three are all yellow-flowered. Yellow loosestrife, Lysimachia vulgaris, is the invasive type. Like its purple relative, it grows in full sun and prefers wetlands. The yellow flower has more of a golden hue than that of its native relatives, Fringed loosestrife, Lysimachia ciliata, and Whorled loosestrife Lysimachia quadrifolia. Both of these native plants have distinctly paler yellow flowers that are less abundant on the stem than they are with the invasive type. Fringed loosestrife is abundant on the banks of the Housatonic where we live but so is the invasive version which I admit to not identifying it in time to keep it from establishing a robust stand in an area where I cannot shovel out the roots without causing erosion to the area. I will keep cutting it and see how it responds.
Back to the earlier-mentioned Japanese stiltgrass. If you intend to eradicate this prolific plant now is your last opportunity before it spreads its seeds, which are emerging from its slender stems. Consider first the area where it resides. In meadows and lawns you will do well to pull it out rather than weed whack so that there is no chance of seeding. Be sure to get your fingers down near the ground before you tug as the stem is as thin as a thread and will easily break with the root still in the ground. Not a disaster but it does risk re-growth this fall. For large and dense swaths, a weed torch will work wonders so long as you use with caution and safety measures. Remember to use this method only after a rain or early in the morning when the dew is thick and fallen leaves are not easily flammable. Always have a fire blanket or other fire eradication system by you. Perhaps most importantly, to avoid stiltgrass infestation, ask your lawn care company to hose down their mowers before starting to mow your lawn. This time of year stiltgrass seed will travel on mowers from other people’s lawns to new spots.
The shrub and small tree called Burning bush, Euonymous alatus, is the next invasive plant to put on a show for us on the roadside runway with its brilliant bluish-red and then pink leaves trying to distract driving eyes. Don’t succumb – eyes on the road!
Dee Salomon ‘ungardens’ in Litchfield County.
Join The Lakeville Journal for a community celebration, featuring local nonprofits and businesses, festive family fun, great food, and engaging activities.
What to Expect:
See you at the Lakeville Journal Street Fair!
If you have any questions, please email streetfair@lakevillejournal.com
Cobbler n’ Cream
5 to 7 p.m.
Freund’s Farm Market & Bakery | 324 Norfolk Rd.
Canaan Carnival
6 to 10 p.m.
Bunny McGuire Park
Canaan Carnival
6 to 10 p.m.
Bunny McGuire Park
Cocktail Party
5 to 7 p.m.
Douglas Library | 108 Main St.
Canaan Carnival
6 to 10 p.m.
Bunny McGuire Park
Boot Drive
8 a.m. to 2 p.m.
North Canaan Fire Co. | 4 E. Main St.
3rd Annual Fly-In
8 a.m. to 3 p.m.
Triumph Airfield | 547 W. Main St.
Canaan Railroad Station Museum
10 a.m. to 6 p.m.
Canaan Union Station
New England Accordion Connection
9 a.m. to 8 p.m.
Canaan Union Station
Canaan Carnival
3 to 10 p.m.
Bunny McGuire Park
Berkshire Resilience Brass Band
5 to 8 p.m.
Canaan Union Station
Barbecued Chicken Dinner
5 to 7 p.m.
St. Martin of Tours | 4 Main St.
Canaan Fireman’s parade
6 p.m.
Foxtrot Farm & Flowers’ historic barn space during UAW’s 2024 exhibition entitled “Unruly Edges.”
Art lovers, mark your calendars. The sixth edition of Upstate Art Weekend (UAW) returns July 17 to 21, with an exciting lineup of exhibitions and events celebrating the cultural vibrancy of the region. Spanning eight counties and over 130 venues, UAW invites residents and visitors alike to explore the Hudson Valley’s thriving creative communities.
Here’s a preview of four must-see exhibitions in the area:
1. Wassaic Project (37 Furnace Bank Road, Wassaic)
“So It Goes” is a powerful group exhibition curated by Eve Biddle, Bowie Zunino, Jeff Barnett-Winsby, and Will Hutnick. The title, drawn from Kurt Vonnegut’s “Slaughterhouse-Five,” signals a reckoning with how we process the horrors of the world. Through play, reflection, and immersive scale, 43 artists respond with urgency and imagination. Installations can be seen throughout the town of Wassaic at Maxon Mills, Gridley Chapel, and Luther Barn, each space transformed by this deeply thoughtful show.
2. Foxtrot Farm & Flowers (6862 Route 82, Stanfordville)
“Queer Bestiary,” a group show curated by Charlotte Woolf, is inspired by Patricia Ononiwu Kaishian’s book “Forest Euphoria.” The exhibition investigates queer ecology and human relationship to land through the work of 10 artists using painting, sculpture, textiles, and photography. The exhibit is accompanied by a variety of interactive experiences including tattoo pop-ups, karaoke, book readings, and pick-your-own flowers.
3. ChaShaMa North/ChaNorth (2600 Route 199, Pine Plains)
ChaShaMa North (ChaNorth) will have open studios all weekend and has partnered with Paradice Palase, a platform for emerging artists, to mount a site-specific sculpture exhibition featuring 20 artists entitled “Alone, You Are Heard.” On Saturday evening, July 19, stop by for Weird Music Night for an audio-visual synthesis of experimental music, performance art, and unexpected happenings. Don’t miss this opportunity to experience an eclectic lineup of acts that redefine the boundaries of performance.
4. Millbrook Arts Project(3 Friendly Lane, Millbrook)
The Millbrook Arts Project is hosting a curated exhibit entitled “Generated Utility” at the newly renovated gallery at the village library. The exhibit will feature the work of artists Natalie Beall and Kathy Greenwood. Additionally, visitors will have access to 12 open artists studios across town. The weekend culminates in a free outdoor concert on Saturday evening at 6 p.m. at the Millbrook Bandshell. Enjoy the Indie-Folk sounds of Strawberry Runners and She Keeps Bees.
For more information and a complete list of participating artists and locations, visit: upstateartweekend.org
The late Glenn May on one of his favorite rivers, the San Juan in New Mexico, circa 2010.
My nomadic attorney Thos is planning a fishing and camping trip of major proportions later this summer, starting in New Mexico and working his way north through the Rockies into Canada.
So I wanted to reconnect with a fellow named Glenn May, who was my main fishing buddy for several years in the 1990s when we both lived in Albuquerque and worked at the same bookstore. Last I heard he was living in Colorado, which is on the itinerary, more or less.
An email bounced back so I tried Facebook, only to learn he died in his sleep in February.
He was a little younger than me, about 60 I guess.
This was disconcerting.
I was already working at the bookstore when he came on board, and we recognized our mutual interest when I found him trying to carve out a shelf or two for fly-fishing titles amid the general chaos of the sports section.
I had a Ford Escort, which was good on gas but didn’t hold much gear, especially when you factored in critical supplies such as beer.
He had a gigantic and battered Ford F350 which was terrible on gas but would go anywhere and could hold everything. It also had a long-expired Delaware license plate, which made for some tense moments.
We managed to wangle the same two days off, Sunday and Monday, and we’d often bug out after our Saturday second shift and fetch up somewhere around 1 a.m., pitch a tent and be on the water at dawn.
The bookstore did not pay much, and out West the distances (and gas consumption) are exponentially greater than in the relatively compact East.
If it was near the first of the month, we took the Escort. Mid-month when we were feeling bucks up, we’d go with the truck.
Glenn was a dry fly guy to his core. I had been trained in similar fashion but was dabbling in the dark arts of subsurface fishing, so when one of us was catching the other was often fishing.
He was also a Dallas Cowboys fan. They were suffering through a particularly bad season one year in the mid-90s, and as we drove from river to river we listened to the games on the radio. He lamented, and I privately gloated.
I wandered back east but Glenn stayed put, eventually becoming a fairly big name in the New Mexico newspaper world. He wrote about fly-fishing for the Albuquerque Tribune and about everything for the Santa Fe New Mexican, and that’s not a complete list.
Then he was off to Cameroon with the Peace Corps. And then Turkey, not in the Peace Corps. He did a stint teaching English in South Korea.
I occasionally got cryptic emails describing the fishing in places like Bulgaria, and he kept up a Facebook presence, so I had some idea of what he was doing.
More recently he was back in the Four Corners, working for the Ute tribal nation in some capacity. I think there was a wife in there too.
I’m struck — again — by how, over the years,I have spent a lot of time with fishing friends and I know next to nothing about them except they dislike fishing with dropper rigs and have a weakness for hazelnut coffee.
The other thing that stands out about Glenn was that he was the best trout spotter I have ever fished with. No scouting flies for this guy. He was almost always aiming at specific fish, where I was working specific spots. To use a sports analogy, he played man-to-man while I played zone.
I spoke to him on the phone in 2004. We reminisced about the time we were edging around a canyon pool and when he looked back all he saw was my ballcap floating on the surface. (I was underneath temporarily.)
Or the time the drunk idiots chucked rocks into the pools we were working. They were poor shots so the rocks came very close to hitting us. They also called our fly rods “fairy sticks.”
We snuck up on them later when they were cavorting in a hot spring and let the air out one of their tires. Only one. We wanted the punishment to fit the crime.
They recovered enough that we encountered them later at a rustic saloon that sold flies and had a collection of brassieres attached to the ceiling. Luckily they didn’t put two and two together, probably because they were engrossed by the decor. We prudently oiled out and made our escape.
I’ll wrap this with a story about the famous New Mexico tailwater, the San Juan River.
The first time we tried it together he was doing well with miniscule dry flies, size 24 callibaetis, and long leaders tapered to 7X.
I think this was when my antipathy for what I call “specks” started. No matter what, I could not lay out my speck the way he could.
So while he was horsing big fat rainbows into the net, I was fumbling with tackle and cussing.
Finally, I tied on a big gaudy Royal Coachman fly with a pink post and about twice the normal amount of hackle. I think I bought it at the brassiere bar.
Shortening my leader to something around seven feet and 3X, I heaved it near the streamside vegetation while Glenn watched. He may have smirked a bit.
A nice rainbow, probably rejoicing at the prospect of a square meal instead of nibbling on specks, smacked the ridiculous fly and we were off.
It was big enough, and I had consumed enough beer, that Glenn kindly assisted in netting the beast. He looked at it, the fly and at me, shook his head, and said “Now that is some raggedy fly-fishing.”