Every spring I’m frequently asked two questions by gardeners in northern states. The first is, “Why doesn’t my zucchini grow? It just sits there. What’s wrong with it?”  The second common question I get is, “What’s wrong with my zucchini (or cucumber, or melon)? It has lots and lots of flowers but no fruit. What’s up with that?”

Home gardeners love to grow members of the squash family, the Cucurbitaceae, called cucurbits for short. This big, important family includes all types of squash: winter (like acorn and butternut), and summer (like zucchini). It also includes cucumbers, pumpkins, melons in the genus Cucumis (cantaloupe, Persian, honeydew, casaba) and watermelon, in the genus Citrullus.

Keep in mind one very important fact about all these delicious vegetables and fruits:  they are all warm season crops. This means that they are sensitive to cold temperatures. And this sensitivity can cause stunting and lack of fruit.

Vegetable starts of warm season plants are readily available in nurseries and garden centers early in the season, when temperatures are really still too cold for them to thrive. As a result, when gardeners plant them too early, the plants simply sit, growing slowly or not at all, and become stunted. They usually begin to grow well when the weather warms up. So the answer to the first question is the squash doesn’t grow because it is still a bit too cold for it.

These two summer squash, each about 3 inches tall, wait for warmth. They’ve not grown significantly in the two months since they were planted. The photo also illustrates the second problem that crops up this time of year. Both plants above are flowering, but all the flowers are male. Male flowers do not make fruit. Only female flowers make fruit. All members of the squash family have female and male flowers on the same plant, but they produce only male flowers early in the season while temperatures are still cool. They start producing female flowers later in the season.

Here’s a female cucumber flower. See the spiny baby cucumber holding this flower up? That fat spiny structure below the petals (that is, closer to the plant) is the ovary of a female flower. The ovary is the thing that matures into a fruit, whether it’s an acorn squash or a zucchini. No female flowers, no fruit! And that’s the answer to the second question.

Look at the stalk holding up this male zucchini flower. It doesn’t look like a miniature zucchini at all. That’s because it isn’t. This stalk is merely a stalk. This flower does not have an ovary because it is a male flower and it will never mature into a fruit. The male flowers produce the pollen needed to fertilize the female flowers.

A female flower of a yellow summer squash clearly has a large yellow ovary underneath the flower petals. The ovary looks like a miniature squash. After the female flower gets pollinated it matures into a delicious squash.

 Next time you wonder why your cucurbit plants sit and sulk, or your zucchinis make flowers but no fruit, just be patient. Keep your vegetable starts where they are warm and have plenty of sun. Put them outside in the garden or a container when the weather warms up.

As many of you may realize by now, while David and I are avid gardeners, our passion is the gateway to nature that the garden provides. As we arrive in New Mexico, so does spring, with all its chaotic and unpredictable weather. Red buds bloom along with plums, lilacs, and cottonwood. And then it snows, and gardeners and farmers worry about their incipient apricots, cherries, and apples.

As I look out the window, reluctant to venture out into the chilly morning, I muse about the birds that flit among the branches of street trees. Barely visible as they industriously seek their morning fare, I wonder how the birds passed the cold night. Have they built nests and laid eggs yet?  My mind meanders to thoughts of Birds and Their Trees.

It seems to me that birds have a very intimate relationship with trees. Trees provide home, security, and often, food. As we travel down the west coast on our book tour, we encounter cormorants nesting in Monterey Cypress (Cupressus macrocarpa) at Pismo Beach on the California Coast. In all the years I have watched cormorants carrying on – in Baja California, in the Pacific Northwest, in Alta California, and even in the bosque along the Rio Grande – I have never seen a nesting colony. We are enchanted. I enjoy the irony that the birds have chosen a semi-urban setting to raise their babies.

In Arizona, as we make our way toward New Mexico, we stop for a late picnic. In the quiet, not too far from the less-traveled blue highway, birds rustle the grasses. We hold still, wondering what might appear. A flicker of brown wings. I slowly raise my binoculars, while David brings his camera to his eye. A bird bursts from the grass and alights in a cholla cactus (Opuntia sp). We are well-acquainted with this bird – a cactus wren – whose life revolves around the sustenance that the cactus provides.

When we cross the border into New Mexico, we are enveloped by an oak-pine forest. Taking a short hike off the road we stop to enjoy the peace of an oak woodland (Quercus emoryi). The leaves twitch with life, but we are not sure what we’ve seen. A flash of blueish gray. A beady eye. A flutter of wings as the bird lands to get a better look at us. This Mexican Jay proves to be a people watcher. Perhaps others have shared their picnic with him. I snap his picture before he tires of us. What is his relationship with the oak? I am sure the Jay loves its acorns. Does he nest among its leafy branches as well?

We pass through the Gila National Forest and we stop at a favorite birding spot. I hear sounds that I recognize. I slice an orange and lay pieces of it on a white-washed stone wall near the trail. We step back into the dense copse. I hold the camera to one eye and watch the forest with the other. We don’t wait long. Our reward for quiet patience arrives. Warily, the Gila Woodpecker approaches the orange slices. He is vigilant in case this is a trap. I snap his picture and he hears the shutter. He pecks the orange slice, and then disappears into the forest. What bird has a more intimate relationship with trees than a woodpecker?

Trees form the backbone of our gardens. They provide the skeletal structure, and these bones invite wildlife to visit. These wild creatures provide invaluable services. Birds, for instance, provide insect control and fertilizer. And if we, in turn, offer shelter and food, we stand to make great gains.  We help create healthy habitat; we defragment the eco-system in which we reside, no matter where that is; and we heal our relationship with the natural world.

Do you have a story of trees or birds to share? We invite you to share your stories of the greenworld, and welcome you to join us at one of our stops on the road. See our events page for all the details. If you have a favorite spot we should not miss, please let us know.

In Arizona the desert wildflowers are particularly abundant this year because of the generous rainfall last winter. We’re driving through this enchanting landscape on our way to bookstore appearances at Changing Hands in Tempe and at the University of Arizona in Tucson, but we stop to watch a storm sweep across the desert along the way. When it rains in the dessert, aromas blossom, as though the arid ground was biding its time, eager to release it’s pent up beauty.

Spectacular blossoms of pink penstemon (Penstemon parryi) and yellow baileya (Baileya multiradiata) erupt among the yuccas and mesquites. The beautiful colors of the desert wildflowers amaze and strike us dumb. Their profusion and their diversity inspire us to take way too many pictures.

Whole hillsides are carpeted with the lovely little Mexican gold poppy (Eschscholzia mexicana) a close cousin of the California poppy (Eschscholzia californica). Mexican gold poppy is often considered to be a subspecies of the California poppy. It is an altogether delightful little plant that blooms in extraordinary abundance once a decade or so.

When we arrive at our destination we soak up the warmth and the sunshine. How delightful to be here after winter in the chilly Pacific Northwest. Palm trees sway in the breeze and the mountains glow in the late afternoon sun.

We park in front of Changing Hands in Tempe and meet with the biggest crowd we’ve had on our whole book tour. Amazing. Several people bring in sick plants to be diagnosed and we all have a great time detecting plant solutions for an evening.

In Tucson we give a PowerPoint presentation at the University of Arizona Bookstore. One woman brings in photographs of a Dracaena in trouble. We use the book together to diagnose the problem. The leaves are turning brown and the plant sheds its oldest leaves. This is a natural process, as all leaves have a finite life span.

 It’s really wonderful to get to see how many people find that using the flow charts in our book is much like a game, or like being a detective. It allows people to be forensic scientists as they work through the decision tree to arrive at an accurate diagnosis. Who knew it would be so much fun?

 If you have a favorite spot we should not miss, please let us know. We invite you to share your stories of the greenworld, and welcome you to join us at one of our stops on the road. See our events page for all the details (www.ddandkw.com/events)