Gardening with Galligan: Butterfly weeds make a comeback

Interrupting our series on vines, I am writing this column on an Island perennial, asclepias tuberosa, because I received a phone call last week from a fellow gardener, Glorian Dorsey. Her spread on North Ferry Road adjoins a 5-acre field, and it was ablaze with butterfly weed.

Glorian’s grandfather was Ralph Duvall. The Dorseys have owned that house literally for centuries, going back to before the Revolutionary War. From one generation to the next, the house came down through the female line and so the names changed; at one point, it was “the Conklings,” at another, “the Griffings.”

Years ago, the Island was, at this time of year, filled with more butterfly weed than daylilies; indeed, in those days, if there had been a contest for Flower of the Island, it would’ve been a competitive race.

Asclepias tuberosa was named for the Greek god of healing, Asklepios; it was thought to have medicinal uses. But Islanders loved it because it was simply beautiful. That was then. Now it is an endangered species in New England and in New York as well.

As a relevant aside, I need to return to the early 70s when I was part of a circle of friends who knew each other in the city, whose children played together there and who rented here every summer. Within 10 years, each of us had bought houses. But until that happened, one family or another always rented “the Robb house,” that first house on your right on Midway Road after you pass the turnoff to Lake Drive. That house has been there for a very long time, and in fact, if memory serves, has an Indian name, “Kemah,” meaning “in the face of the wind.” The adjacent big field was where we played inter-generational Capture the Flag every night after supper and it was alive with butterfly weed. So what happened to asclepias tuberosa? How did it become an endangered species?

This herbaceous perennial, from 12 inches to a little more than 2 feet, is bright orange, and with some varieties, a golden yellow. It is a low maintenance plant, needs full sun, is accustomed to poor soil and does indeed attract butterflies. It is easy to grow, and according to most authorities, will naturalize — this is clearly true, since it did at the Robb house and has at the Dorseys. But why was there no butterfly weed at the Robb house for years and why is it staging a comeback at the Dorseys? I could find no straightforward answer to this question on any of the websites I consulted. When the butterfly weed started dying out, Island lore had that it was due to the increasing number of deer. It may not have been on their preferred menu, but was perhaps an acceptable second choice, as the number of deer every year increased exponentially.

That may indeed have contributed, but an experience of mine (and now we are going to “gardener’s lore” as gardeners are wont to do) suggests an alternative explanation. Many years ago I came out one morning to find my butterfly weed orange all over, with no green at all. Perplexed, I looked more closely and realized that the plants were completely covered with bright orange caterpillars.

Now, I am not bug phobic, but neither am I particularly bug friendly. This was an emergency. I got a bucket of water, a big one, and dumped in half a bottle of Clorox, carried it to the plants, and while singing various well-loved folk songs, with my fingers (ugh) picked up over 500 caterpillars and dropped them into the bucket. (I don’t believe you can think while singing, and thought if I didn’t think about “caterpillars” I could get through.)

My hypothesis is that the particular breed of orange caterpillar in question has met its nemesis, perhaps a virus, and as they decline the butterfly weed is coming back.

Glorian Dorsey said, “I’ve never seen it as wonderful as it is this summer.”

Next week, back to vines.

Update of the week: I checked out the field at the Robb house after writing this column, and indeed the butterfly weed is in full comeback mode; you can’t see it from the road because the trees along the edge have grown so high, but it’s happening!