new family member: milkweed

I picked up a common milkweed after a town of the Schlafly brewery on my last full day in St. Louis. They were selling them as part of a fundraiser for a women's shelter. How could I say no? I'd had a feeew samples of free beer and a beer for lunch. How could I say no to anything?

I was excited about the selling features of the plant. It attracts butterflies, particularly Monarchs, which feed off of it. It attracts aphids, which are then eaten by all of the other, much cooler bugs that hang out on the milkweed. I thought this was great, since my mom's honeysuckle had a case of plant lice (another term for aphids--fun, right?) earlier this season.

My mom did not think it was great. Milkweed is, well, a weed according to some people. These people are mainly farmers who have had their fields attacked by a large milkweed population surprise or people that do not like to eat odd plants.

That's right. The milkweed is some odd form of vegetable. I don't know how you would classify this, but I'm sure it would belong in the same category as my grandma's fried pumpkin blossoms.

Pause: If you haven't had fried pumpkin blossoms, I'm so, so sorry. Find some. Resume.

The milkweed buds, found in early summer, are similar to broccoli ,and their seedpods that appear in late summer share the shape and flavor of okra. I'm getting pumped about growing this little guy, since Countryside Mag promises a decent yield from even a small section of the crop. Isn't it funny? One man's crop is another man's weed...

Since I don't feel like taking over my parents' yard with milkweed or drowning out the honeysuckle, I'm trying to figure out how to prevent growth without killing the little guy. For now, he's living in the garage. I'm going to do some more research, but I feel good about it. I'm slowly learning how to keep plants alive (hello, 4-inch basil and chive), and Joe and I keep searching for the perfect members of our future urban garden.