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Welcome to austinagrodolce … My family and I garden with more intention and enthusiasm than allocated budget or overall design plan. It shows. Wildlife populations don't seem to notice our lack of cohesive design, they just like the native plants here. It seems by growing local we've thrown out a welcome mat. Occasionally, we're surprised at who (and what) shows up.



Showing posts with label A Year in the Garden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A Year in the Garden. Show all posts

Sunday, February 28, 2016

I finally heard it - maybe you have too?

I thought I'd become immune.
I thought I'd gotten
 too hardened,
 frustrated to the point of no return.
But I kept being called out, drawn into the garden spaces.
I pretended to see if I needed to trim something a bit...
but then I'd stop to admire while acknowledging nothing needed trimming.

As I ventured out in my garden beds, I began hearing something.  At first it was barely audible.
But it happened again...and again.
A little snatch of tune...a snippet of melody...just the notes at first.  Until finally...the words became
just 
clear 
enough...to catch.  I had to actively listen, to hear.
To finally admit and understand.
It was only, ever, going to be a matter of time.
Because when it comes to the great awakening of garden and gardener alike? We silly humans may swear we are done, that this gardening thing, it is all over. We can say we have washed our hands and walked away forever.

But the garden, deep in her heart, she simply knows better.
Time, as always, is on her side.

Sings my garden:
Time is on my side, yes it is
Time is on my side, yes it is


Now you all would say, that you wanna be free
But you'll come running back (Like I said you would, baby)
You'll come running back (Like I told ya so many times before)
You'll come running back to me, yeah


You're searchin' for good times, but just wait and see.
You'll come running back (I said you would, darlin')
You'll come running back 
You'll come running back to me


Go ahead, baby, go ahead. Go ahead and light up the town.
Baby, do anything your heart desires remember, I'll always be around
I know, I know like I told ya so many times before
You're gonna come back, yeah you're gonna come back, baby 


'Cause I got the real love the kind that you need
You'll come running back (I knew you would one day)
You'll come running back (Like I told you before)
You'll come running back to me, yeah


Via Wikipedia: "Time Is on My Side" is a song written by Jerry Ragovoy (under the pseudonym of Norman Meade). First recorded by jazz trombonist Kai Winding and his Orchestra in 1963, it was covered (with additional lyrics by Jimmy Norman) by both soul singer Irma Thomas and the Rolling Stones in 1964.
 

Thursday, October 15, 2015

Second Spring has Sprung

Texas gardeners especially appreciate October's tradition for easing the remnants of summer's heat. Afternoon highs may resist, but the temperatures at night will steadily move down, shifting the average temperature for each day towards a cooler set point.  Rain may be part of the transition, but more reliably it is moderated temperatures bringing relief.  Referred to as a Second Spring, markers for the seasonal change abound, natural and not-so.

Central Texas lacks autumn's semaphore of tree leaves turning, but the hazy smoke from seasonal slash and burn agricultural fires set far to our south regularly drifts our way in October, setting morning clouds ablaze.
Dramatic color is also on offer from other more natural sources. 
Argentinian native Oxblood lilies (Rhodophiala bifida) popped out flower stalks several times in succession this year, extending the pleasure of their deepest reds to span several weeks.  

Native plant Goldeneye (Viguiera dentata - a member of the Aster family) demonstrates mastery of this season, attracting pollinators of every sort to banks of blossoms with petals that face the sun's light. 
Warm color is transformed into sustaining matter.

Such exuberance is hard to resist.
Few try.  Days are shortening and whatever comes next, this is the season to forage and store. This Funereal Duskywing butterfly (Erynnis funeralis) shared the wealth with several types of bees.
Old favorites mix with new.  Native Chile Pequin aka Bird pepper plants (Capsicum annuum) develop tiny white flowers that faintly echo fellow native A. Duelberg salvia (Salvia farinacea) flowers growing behind.  The pepper plants offer a banquet for every visitor with blooms and berries appearing all at once. 
The addition of Crag Lilies (Echeandia flavescens) reinforces the wisdom of planting native perennials.  Their combination of strength and delicacy is exquisite.
The form of the flowers reminds me a bit of Columbine offering a similar swept-back display evoking fireworks. I'm quite smitten!
Also new here this season are Gregg's mist flower (Conoclinium greggii, another Aster family member), bringing a poignant shade of light purply blue to Fall's otherwise mostly golden palette.
Not to be outdone, Prairie verbena (Glandularia bipinnatifida var. bipinnatifida) are cautiously re-emerging now summer's worst is behind us, adding more complementary purple to play against the yellows and oranges. Appreciation is widespread. This skipper, I believe another Duskywing, was thoroughly working what few blooms were around.
Having survived aphids, tropical milkweed (Asclepias curassavica) rises above a background of truer blue H. Duelberg salvia (Salvia farinacea).  The milkweed are blissfully unaware of the roiling controversy as to whether or not their presence when planted out of their native region, offers any true lifeline to migrating butterflies.
It is difficult for me to appreciate the beauty of milkweed and simultaneously view them as a disease vector. As I get very few (Zero so far and counting) migrating monarchs, I've left mine standing for now.  Anoles (Anolis carolinensis) seem unimpressed by the controversy or my dithering.
Garden center pepper plants begin renewed production efforts in recognition of and appreciation for our cooler nights.  The anoles and I keep a close eye.  I watch for peppers to pickle while they are on the lookout for visitors who might provide more immediately pleasurable mouthfuls.  
Thai basil (Ocimum basilicum var. thyrsiflora) bloom spikes appear, bearing purple pagodas.  Earlier in the season I routinely pinch off blooms but these October spires will remain, filled as they are with the makings for seeds to yield future plants. Once developed, the seeds are also a favorite snack for finches.
No use of the term "favorite" could be reasonably made without the inclusion of this October stalwart, the bright pink flowers of Coral Vine (Antigonon leptopus).  Though designated "invasive" in Texas, this fall blooming vine has remained growing in restraint against a trellis here for over a decade with no sign of spread or reseeding.  
An equal draw for bees to any plant currently blooming, I decided to let this iteration of the vine stay in place.  My ongoing removal efforts will continue to focus on other problematic plants displaying more reproductive oooomph.  
October in Texas.  Filled with fests and fĂȘtes, it is a favorite time of year for locals and visitors alike. We are not known for arboreal color this season, but there is certainly no lack of beauty on display for the discerning eye.

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Anticipating Autumn

Though the calendar reads "September" and we've enjoyed a welcome sampler of rainy spells interspersed with some cooler mornings, it is not yet reliably Autumn per se in the Austin area.  We are stuck for a few more weeks in what is more accurately described as protracted Summer.

Early signs of Autumn abound, but those have been well described and beautifully displayed in posts on multiple other (excellent) local garden blogs.

Schoolhouse and pink rain lilies popping up cheerfully in response to long awaited September rains?  Yup. Those have already been blogged about. Several times.
Turk's cap in bloom? Posted elsewhere. Beautyberry bushes and Pidgeonberry eponymously decked out?  Duly noted and reported on other sites.
Inland Sea Oat seed heads shown to their best backlit advantage?  Uh huh, saw that already. Datura blooms?  Photographed in daylight as well as in the moon's golden glow.  Garlic chives?  With and without bees. Lindheimer's senna? Various salvias and Leadwort plumbago?  All shown in flower and exquisitely documented elsewhere.

The usual suspects have definitely already gotten their fair share of the attention.

I wanted to post, but didn't see where I'd gain traction posting more (and not necessarily better) photographs of the plants already listed alongside various lame versions of "what she said".  My frustration mounted. Had I missed Autumn's boat? Was this territory too familiar, too well trod?  Had those other (better organized) bloggers covered alpha all the way to omega?  Couldn't I find one single as-yet unsung wonder left out there waiting its turn in the spotlight?

I groused, I deleted, I muttered. I was about to give up when, scrolling through my most recent photos, I saw both the plants and the light. There were a few also-rans out there not yet covered. Team captains had chosen their favorites first, but there were definitely other players remaining. So here they are, in no particular order, "latter but not least" additions, my own nominees to the lineup of late summer/early autumn stars designate for Central Texas in September.

To kick things off, a native, Texas Kidneywood (Eysenhardtia texana), which is currently flaunting a scent so pronounced it demands attention.
And attention it gets.  The flower spikes open a few at a time, advancing in numbers day by day until the entire tree becomes a fully loaded, heavily scented pollinator magnet.  Gray Hairstreak (Strymon melinus) butterflies favor it, nectaring alongside honeybees,
all sorts of native bees, bee mimics,
and even wasps.  Like this blue-winged Scolia dubia. They all spend hours darting in and out amongst the flowers, drinking their fill.
Scolia dubia- female blue winged digger wasp.
All that traffic drew even more attention, including that of the local anole population (Anolis carolinensis).
Using their coloration disguise to full advantage, they are lurking in proximity to branch ends in numbers, hoping to snap up a delicious meal all their own from amongst the winged visitors.
In fact, anoles can be seen everywhere these days including this little lip smacker perched on a flower spike of H. Duelberg salvia.
The delicate pink blossoms of Coral Vine, (Antigonon leptopus) are visited all day by pollinators of every stripe....
followed by even more anoles.  Dinner's on!
Non-native but well adapted and widely appreciated south of I-10, Firebush (Hamelia patens) comes back from the roots and kicks into high gear during our very hottest weather.  As the arrival of summer's heat was delayed, it got off to a slow start this year.  Unlike many other plants that went leggy with a vengeance, this seasonal beauty has only grown to half its usual spread and height.
I don't mind a bit.  I like it small or tall, and look forward to when glowing embers at branch ends are lighting up the bed it graces.  Hummingbirds love this plant though you'll have to take my word for that.  The delayed timing this year must be wreaking havoc with their usual feeding habits.
Beleaguered but persistent Fall Obedient plant is finally attempting blooms. Physotegia virginiana likes things wet, but the weeks of heat with no rain that followed spring's bounty took their toll.  This is a tough native however, and good year or bad, I know these will always come back for more.
This little patch of Virginia dayflower, (Commelina virginica) is blooming for a few hours daily, but it is new for me in this spot and I haven't watched it long enough to know if the current show will be reliable year to year.
Like the Firebush, October showstopper Giant Cosmos (Cosmos sulphureous), while only half its usual six foot size this year, is budding out.
Just beginning to appear, Goldeneye (Viguiera dentata) flower heads are small but expanding daily.
There you have it -  my add-ons to the pantheon of reliable late summer to early autumn bloomers in the central Texas area.  Taken in total they provide heat weary Texans with assurance weather is on the way better aligned with the calendar's insistence.

This year has certainly been one for the record books.  What about your garden spaces?  Seeing any surprises in your late summer garden after all our weird weather this year?  I'm sure there are wonderful plants I've overlooked or simply don't enjoy success with here. Lycoris radiata have been reported in bloom a few miles from me, but mine have yet to show.  Are you noticing other emerging changes?  Feel free to list them in the comments section.

Let's keep building the list!