New Arrivals: The Coccinellidae novemnotatas aka THE LADYBUGS

In the photograph posted above, all arrows are on a teeney tiny Coccinellidae novemnotata aka ladybug, which is perched on a leaf of my Farfugium japonicum 'Cristata' plant — a lovely plant that "resides" in the southeast portion of my urban terrace garden. The picture was taken before seven o'clock in the morning last Friday — the morning after I had released ladybugs into my garden. Juan V had suggested I use ladybugs as a means of getting rid of some pests that were starting to nibble on my Farfugium japonicum 'Cristata' plant as well as other things which grow in my garden. Since I am legally blind, I do not always notice such things until it is too late, so I was grateful he made me aware of the munching pests, as well as for his suggestion that I bring on the ladybugs.



Prior to Juan V's suggestion, I had not realized that ladybugs were good for combatting plant munching pests. In fact, I had not realized that all ladybugs have    "special organs on their feet to help them smell", or that they "use their antennae to touch and taste". 


I also did not realize that ladybugs "chew from side to side and not up and down like mammals do" — at this moment in time — the ladybug's method of chewing would be a problem for yours truly, because, as you may recall, from a previous post in which I wrote about the Spilanthes oleracea plant, I have recently had a tooth extracted. This tooth was on the lower left side of my mouth, and since its extraction, I have not been able to afford the follow-up treatment needed, which has limited my ability to chew. Whatever ability I did have to chew as a result of the tooth extraction, was curtailed this past Saturday morning, when a bridge in the upper right hand side of my mouth came out while I was brushing my teeth; making the ladybug's method of chewing virtually impossible.


Apparently ladybugs — during hibernation —  feed on their stored fat, now this action,  I suppose, is something I could do as I have plenty of stored fat in my belly. (BTW, my sources for the aforementioned ladybug facts as well as much more information regarding them may be found by going to this link.)


Speaking of eating, it seems ladybugs are quite the noshers and can eat up to 4,000 aphids in their lifetime (read more by clicking here). As I stated earlier, I have not seen any aphids in my garden due to my poor eyesight; but from time to time I've seen some consequences of their having been in my garden, so I welcome the ladybugs to my terrace garden, and I encourage them to do their thing. The ladybugs seem to be enjoying my garden, as indicated in a few photographs where they can be seen on the leaves of my Yellow Rose Bush, as well as the leaves of my Physocarpus opulifolius (Coppertina) Tree, my Strawberry Plant, and on the pod of my Echinacea Plant. These pictures were taken before the camera-shy creatures headed into the soil for their "real food"  and they are posted (respectively) below.

Perhaps ladybugs feel comfortable in my garden as they are true New Yorkers in that they are our state's insect, or perhaps they are comfortable in my garden because, like the ladybug, I have spots which are due to the fact that I have the neurological condition known as Neurofibromatosis Type One (NF-1) which is something I have referred to in a number of previous blog entries, including ones which you may go to by clicking here, as well as here, and here and here, or to see all of my posts regarding Neurofibromatosis, click on the label in the labels menu (on the left hand side of all blog postings) bearing that name.


Because of my NF-1, I have six cafe´-au-lait spots; but as for the ladybug and its spots, here are some interesting facts (which I discovered in the link that I posted in the fourth paragraph of this blog entry): "most of them have red, orange, or yellow wing covers with black spots, some are black with red spots, they usually do not have their spots for the first twenty-four hours of their adulthood, and the spots on the ladybug fade as it gets older." 


Unlike the ladybug and its spots, the cafe´-au-lait spots of someone afflicted with NF-1 do not fade, ever, but, fortunately for me — because I have an olive complexion — they are not very pronounced. However, what is pronounced, are the thousands of lumps and bumps which appear all over my body as a consequence of having this medical condition. These lumps and bumps are referred to in the medical community as neurofibromas. They are fibrous tumors that wrap around any nerve ending and push up through the skin causing lumps and bumps in varying sizes o appear everywhere, giving one afflicted with NF-1 the appearance of having a case of Elephant Man's Disease.


Since NF-1 occurs at birth, I have obviously had it my whole life, yet I am often taken off guard when someone refers to my appearance. As it happens, i was at the Greenmarket this past friday, and one of the farmers asked me if I was from Queens, which is one of the five boroughs of New York City. I told her that I did not live in Queens, but I also inquired as to why she asked. "A man I have seen living there has your skin condition", she replied gesturing at my lumps and bumps. Perhaps because I was caught off guard, the hurt and shame that I have felt as a result of having this condition welled up inside of me as I tried to explain to her that what she saw on my body was not the result of a "skin condition" but was tumor related as a result of a neurological condition.


While there are many remedies — such as ladybugs — out there to protect gardens from aphids and other invasive pests, I've yet to find a remedy against human cruelty towards those who suffer from a physical condition. According to Wiki, "In many countries, including Russia, Turkey, and Italy, the sight of a ladybug is either a call to make a wish or a sign that a wish will soon be granted." 


Hmmmm . . . I wonder if . . . 

Where is my Spilanthes oleracea when I need him?

The unusual looking plant in the photograph (for image credits click here), which  posted above is a Spilanthes oleracea plant. Its flowers resemble pimento olives and it is somewhat of a funky plant to have in one's garden. (I can just imagine the Spilanthes oleracea plant saying 'what do you mean by funky?' — if he is anything like my Physocarpus opulifolius aka Coppertina, who took homage at being called Copper-Tone — not by yours truly by the way — and took it upon himself to express these thoughts in a blog post which you may refer to by clicking here.)

Whether you perceive the Spilanthes oleracea plant to be funky or not, it does provide a unique purpose to one's garden as it is a documented fact that when one chews on the leaves, one experiences a numbing effect on the mouth. According to an herb guide (source can be found by clicking here), "a decoction or infusion of the leaves is recommended for stammering, toothache, stomatitis, and throat complaints," and that eating a whole flower bud results in an extremely strong tingling sensation accompanied by excessive saliva production."

In 2006, I had a Spilanthes oleracea plant in my terrace garden as pictured below:

I was not taking many pictures or blogging during that time, but I can assure you that he can be seen in the far right hand corner where the purple arrow is pointing (on a direct diagonal from the SODAS sign which I only recently removed from my urban terrace garden, a gesture that I wrote about in a previous blog entry that you may refer to by clicking here).

The normally perennial Spilanthes oleracea plant, in the zone where I live and have my terrace garden is an annual. Therefore, I am not always able to find them in any of  the green-makets when growing season arrives; hence, I have not had one in my garden for a number of years. However, the Spilanthes oleracea plant is on my mind today, as I am scheduled to have a tooth extraction this afternoon —an unfortunate necessity precipitated by its being fractured.

When you are a child, you receive money for losing a tooth via the tooth fairy, but when you are an adult, you pay money — a lot of money. Money that is not easy to come by, especially in this economic downturn, but, fortunately for me, is exactly why an empathetic neighbor is loaning yours truly the money in order for me to have my tooth — which is fractured — extracted this afternoon. I am not only dismayed at the prospect of this dental procedure; I am petrified. Even though as a child I did receive a few coins under my pillow for losing a tooth, in attempt to make it a positive experience, the losing of the tooth was always fraught with fear. This is because when I was in elementary school, and my tooth became loose, close family friends threatened to tie one end of a string to my loose tooth, and then tie the other end to a door knob, then slam the door in hopes that the tooth would come out. If that did not work; the option was pliers. To this day, despite my having undergone numerous, and often painful, medical procedures due to my having Neurofibromatosis Type-One, dental pain and dental work send me into a panic.

I tried to share my anxiety by phoning someone I know named Terry, who, simply said, "I've had eight teeth extracted, including permanent," and she hung up the phone. A closer friend told me that "there are worse things than losing a tooth", and I agree with her. I certainly have had worse things happen to me, my family, my friends, and I am well aware of the "worse things" — far worse things that are happening throughout the world; still, I find myself in the need of some consolation and comfort in dealing with my physical and emotional pain in dealing with this eminent procedure. So I ask, where is my little ol' plant-friend — the one who looks like a pimento olive — when I need him? The friend I am referring to, of course, is the Spilanthes oleracea plant pictured above in the photograph at the top of this blog entry and the plant that I have been discussing. However, despite its proven ability to relieve tooth-ache pain, I confess that I do not find eating the leaves of plants appealing whatsoever. This is mostly because I enjoy taking in their beauty, and could not think of eating them — a fact that I have expressed regarding the eating of other plants — in a number of blog entries, most recently ones on Anethum graveolens (Dill), and Tropaelum majus (Nasturtium), (posts that you may refer to by clicking here and here respectively.) However, perhaps, had I not just taken in the quirky nature of my Spilanthes oleracea plant, and eaten it in a salad instead, I might not be suffering so much today. 

There are even recipes for using this salad such as the one I've posted below.

Spilanthes Salad:

1/4 cup Spilanthes leaves (Spilanthes oleracea)

1/2 cup New Zealand spinach (Tetragonia tetragoniodes)

2 cups Swiss chard leaves (Beta vulgaris var. cicla)

2 cups lettuce leaves

1 tablespoon chopped salad burnet (Sanguisorba minor)

2 tablespoons chopped garlic chives (Allium tuberosum)

Rinse all the ingredients to remove any dirt or insects that may be present. Towel dry or use a salad spinner to throughly dry all ingredients. Tear the larger leaves into bite size pieces then add all the ingredients to a large bowl and toss well.

Salad Dressing:

2 cloves garlic minced

1/2 cup olive oil

1/4 cup balsamic vinegar

1 tablespon freshly grated parmesan cheese

salt and pepper to taste

Whisk all the ingredients together in a small bowl. Prior to serving the salad drizzle the dressing over the top and toss to evenly coat all the leaves.

The salad and dressing recipe posted above is from information found in the link mentioned in the second paragraph of this post, however, I confess I have not tried this particular salad.

What I can say about the Spilanthes oleracea, from my experience, is that its quirky flowers added a sense of humor to my garden in those earlier garden years, but, as for chewing on them for numbness, I'd rather achieve that by sipping from a glass of chilled une robe de vignes, the Loire wine, or induldging in White Knights on the rocks, with a splash — just a splash of cranberry juice and a twist of lemon.