Owning a garden and caring for your plants requires an understanding of potential issues that may arise. If you come across a mysterious substance known as the “jelly nut” in your garden, here’s what you need to know.
Recently, a Redditor from Oklahoma discovered an odd sight in his garden, bright “yellow goo” on his trees and a peculiar object he described as a “gelatinous alien nut”. Unsure of what it was, he turned to the Reddit community for assistance, mentioning that the affected tree was a conifer, though he couldn’t identify it further.
Almost immediately, another user identified the problem as “cedar and apple rust”. This disease depends on two host plants to complete its life cycle, primarily affecting apple and crabapple trees.
The symptoms vary depending on the type of tree. On junipers, a brown gall forms on twigs and produces orange, gelatinous horns in the spring, particularly during wet weather. Although the twig beyond the gall may die, the damage to the juniper is minimal.
For apple and crabapple trees, yellow circular spots appear on the leaves soon after flowering. By late summer, brown clusters of cylindrical structures develop underneath the leaf spots, on twigs, or even fruit.
Galls from the infection can take several months to develop, appearing around seven months after infection begins. After 18 months, they evolve into gelatinous masses. In the spring, these galls develop depressions resembling golf balls, which give rise to telial horns that elongate and turn bright orange during rainy periods. After releasing spores, these horns collapse and dry up, although the galls can remain attached to the tree for another year.
Management of this infection can include pruning the affected areas or simply allowing it to run its course since it typically doesn’t kill trees but may cause some disfigurement. Preventive measures, such as fungicides or planting resistant apple varieties, can also help.
Overall, while cedar and apple rust isn’t a severe threat to your trees, being informed about it allows you to take the right steps if it appears in your garden. Share this information with others so they can be prepared too!
I Felt Disappointed That My Grandfather Left Me Just an Old Apiary, but My Perspective Changed When I Inspected the Beehives
My late grandfather, a master storyteller who spun tales of buried treasure, left me a rather unexpected inheritance: a dusty old apiary. It felt like a cruel joke at first. Who would leave their grandchild a shack swarming with bees? My resentment lingered until the day I finally ventured into the beehives.
One typical morning, Aunt Daphne urged me to pack my bag for school, but I was too busy texting a friend about the upcoming dance and my crush, Scott. When she mentioned my grandfather’s dreams for me, my frustration grew. I had no interest in tending to his bees; I just wanted to enjoy my teenage life.
The next day, Aunt Daphne chastised me for my neglect, threatening to ground me. She insisted that caring for the apiary was part of my responsibility. Despite my protests, I reluctantly agreed to check on the hives. Donning protective gear, I opened the first hive, my heart racing. A bee stung my glove, and for a moment, I considered quitting. But a rush of determination took over, and I pressed on, hoping to show Aunt Daphne I could handle this.
While harvesting honey, I discovered a weathered plastic bag containing a faded map. Excited, I tucked it into my pocket and raced home to grab my bike. Following the map, I pedaled into the woods, recalling my grandfather’s stories that had once enchanted me.
I found myself in a clearing resembling a scene from one of his tales—the old gamekeeper’s house stood before me, decaying but still captivating. Memories flooded back of lazy afternoons spent there, listening to his stories. Touching the gnarled tree nearby, I recalled his playful warnings about the gnomes that supposedly lurked in the woods.
Inside the forgotten cabin, I uncovered a beautifully carved metal box. Inside was a note from Grandpa: “To my dear Robyn, this box contains a treasure for you, but do not open it until your journey’s true end” Though tempted, I knew I had to honor his wishes.
After exploring further, I realized I was lost and panic set in. Remembering Grandpa’s advice to stay calm, I pressed on, searching for a familiar path. Eventually, I stumbled upon the bridge he often spoke of, but it felt further away than I had hoped. Exhausted and disoriented, I collapsed beneath a tree, longing for home.
The next morning, determined to find my way, I recalled Grandpa’s lessons as I navigated through the wilderness. I found a river but was startled when I slipped into the icy water. Fighting against the current, I finally managed to cling to a log, eventually dragging myself to shore.
Soaked and trembling, I rummaged through my backpack, only to find stale crumbs. When I remembered Grandpa’s wisdom, I used healing leaves for my cuts and continued onward, drawn by the sound of rushing water. I finally reached the river again, but the water was treacherous. Desperate, I knelt to drink, but the current swept me away, and I found myself struggling against the powerful flow.
Determined not to give up, I let go of my backpack but clung to the metal box. With sheer will, I fought my way to the bank, finally escaping the icy grasp of the river. I needed shelter, so I built a makeshift one from branches under a sturdy oak tree.
The next morning, I set out once more, the metal box feeling like my only lifeline. Memories of fishing trips with Grandpa warmed me, urging me forward. When I finally spotted the bridge, hope surged within me. But the forest began to close in around me, confusion and despair threatening to overwhelm me. Just when I thought I couldn’t go on, I found a clearing and collapsed, utterly spent.
Then, I heard voices calling my name. I awoke in a hospital bed with Aunt Daphne by my side. Overcome with regret, I apologized for everything. She comforted me, reminding me of Grandpa’s unconditional love and how he always believed in me.
As she reached into her bag, my heart raced when I recognized the familiar blue wrapping paper. It was an Xbox, a gift from Grandpa, meant to be given only when I understood the value of hard work. I realized then that I had learned that lesson, and the desire for the gift faded.
In the following years, I grew into my responsibilities, embracing the lessons my grandfather imparted. Now, as a mother myself, I reflect on those moments with gratitude. The sweet honey from my bees serves as a cherished reminder of the bond I shared with Grandpa, a bond that continues to guide me.
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