All's well that ends well

One of the most consistent pleasures I get from gardening is growing my own herbs.  It makes me deeply happy to go out into the garden, snip off something fresh, and then bring it back into the kitchen to use in preparing a meal.

I started out growing a handful of well adapted herbs for our area: oregano, thyme, rosemary, basil. I soon discovered how tough parsley is, overwintering even through our coldest spells and surviving our hottest summer temperatures.  Better yet, parsley, along with fennel, is a magnet host plant for butterflies.

I ought not to have been surprised when I stumbled into my kitchen the morning after harvesting parsley to use on a lamb roast last Sunday, and saw this scattered across the tiles:

No, that's not an unfortunate poppy seed spill.  That's frass, ladies and gents, or to put it in less gentile terms, caterpillar poop.

I'd had everything but the parsley sitting in the windowsill for days so knew my freshly harvested herbs were the most likely hiding spot for the frassinator. I took a closer look, and sure enough, blending in perfectly with the green stalks of parsley was this guy.

It is too early for me to tell exactly what sort of butterfly or moth this caterpillar will become.  Perhaps a swallowtail butterfly, they do love parsley.

I took the caterpillar back out into the garden beds, where the parsley stalks are all still attached at the roots.  I didn't try to detach it but snugged it up against the base of the main plant, where it will certainly find its way back up into the produce section.

Phew! That was a bit of a close call.  I'm reminded to be more cautious when bringing garden greens indoors.  They often carry visitors hiding in plain sight. I'm relieved I didn't "find" this guy with my knife on the chopping board.  Happy trails, little butterfly-to-be!

The Wages of Moths (and butterflies)...

Every action in the natural world has a consequence.  When a gardener chooses plants specifically to "attract and host" butterflies and moths, here is what they are also asking for.

Caterpillars.  Brilliantly colored eating machines.  Mouths with legs (and in this case a bright yellow tail horn).

Sorry Charlie, but the All-You-Can-Eat Primrose Buffet is out in the back yard!

I can't tell you for certain which sphinx moth the caterpillar pictured above belongs to.  I'm pretty sure it is Hyles lineata, but we get regular visits from all sorts of sphinx moths so this guy, (gal?) could be a close relative.

As these things go, this particular caterpillar out by my front sidewalk was eating its way up to the ripening seed pods on one of a very few pink evening primrose plants growing where I'm trying to get them established.   I've got banks of them out back.

So I did what I could to gently dislodge it from the singleton plant it was eating bare and I moved it out back to the masses of Oenothera speciosa, where the damage will be negligible.

This may sound silly, but later I went out to the area where I'd moved the caterpillar.  I wanted to see if I could find it again and assure myself I'd made the transfer without causing undue harm.  The very first caterpillar I found (photo below) had different markings, so while I knew it wasn't the same one I'd moved, I at least felt reassured I'd picked an area other caterpillar mothers chose for their offspring.

The next candidate looked a lot more likely, but how to know for sure?

Truth be told, with my poor identification skills, there was no way to know for sure. After spotting a third caterpillar in the same bed however, I felt that no matter how my original passenger had fared, the survival of the species was not in any way jeopardized.

Once I started "seeing" these caterpillars did I become a little obsessed with hunting for more?  You already know the answer.

This one is headed back down the stem after a job well done.  You can see why they don't run much risk of attack from behind.

It turns out this patch of primroses is a veritable sphinx moth nursery.  Lullaby and good night!

Postscript:  I wrote and scheduled this post before I discovered another "eater" in the patch - an infestation of four lined leaf bugs.  If you didn't previously read about my decision to let one species feed while attempting to eradicate the other, check the post out here.

Show and Tell

Or rather showing more than telling.  The ongoing wind and drought this season are taking a predictable toll on everything (and everybody). I'm determined to capture the blooms and pollinators in this space while they are both in abundance.  

Every flower takes a turn. As bluebonnets continue to set seed, pink evening primroses go on to attract winged visitors while the ox-eye daisies have just begun their display.  Sedum is shooting stars and cholla is branching out ever higher.   

True to the season, and despite the weather, there are signs of new life all around.  Now, if we could just get some much needed rain...

This bee seems content to become totally immersed in its work.

These yellow coneflowers came up from seed I spread and promptly forgot about.  I honestly don't recall if these are Ratibida pinnata but eventually the matured plant form in flower will answer all questions.

Sedum in bloom - I think stenopetalum?

One of these Sachem Skippers was clearly interested in the nectar.  The other Skipper seemed a lot more interested in propagating the species.  

Speaking of propagation - seeing so many Sphinx moths working the primrose patch this year it ought not come as any surprise to see Hyles lineata larva appearing next. 

Happy Hour for a Horace's duskywing (Erynnis horatius)

This cane cholla (Opuntia imbricata) is slowly but surely taking over the bed it now is beginning to tower over.  I think my chance to transplant it anywhere with risking major personal puncturing has long passed.  

Dill and Jewels of Opar (Talinum paniculatum) play nicely together.  Once the dill has tired of the heat, the Jewels will just be hitting their stride for the season.  

Fiery skipper (Hylephila phyleus).  As with any identification efforts - this represents my best guess.  

Ox-eye Daisy Leucanthemum vulgare).  One of the few remaining survivors from a wildflower seed mix planted nearly a decade ago.

I've been collecting seed from a patch of much beloved Hill Country Rain Lilies out front and scattering them out back.  Finally a hint that a few have taken.  (Cooperia pedunculata)

Though muted, the iridescent blue on the body and tattered remains of the tail of this butterfly reveal it to be a Pipevine Swallowtail (Battus philenor).  

Parse this

I'm a great fan of parsley these days.

I didn't used to think that way.  Parsley was represented in my thinking only as that annoying garnish found on every plate in every sit down restaurant.  If I bothered touching it at all, it was only to find some unobtrusive placement of the parsley away from my food, so I could concentrate on what I was eating.  And, whatever I was eating that day, parsley sure wasn't it.

Then I planted some in the garden to share with our son (he's a chef).  He doesn't have access to outdoor planting spaces, so it was easy enough to offer to grow it here.  He can drop by and pick however much he wants for his own use at home.  We were already co-hosting basil, thyme and jalapeño plants for our mutual use, so what was a little parsley between family?

It turns out parsley, once a good sized crown is established, is a really attractive plant. It is as green as they get, barely wilts in the heat, tolerates most of what any Austin winter dishes out, and is never a water hog. Even in August.

As I began to use fresh-from-the-garden parsley in various recipes (rather than ignoring it as an ingredient altogether), I began to discover parsley does indeed have something to offer as part of the flavor profile of various dishes.  Fresh parsley is an addition I have come to appreciate, especially in home preparation of ranch dressing and chicken stock.

And, as is typically the case, I am not alone in my admiration.  Yesterday as I was trimming out the yellowed leaves from underneath the crown, I ran across three fellow parsley fans.

Papilio polyxenes, also known as black swallowtail caterpillars, were busily eating, bulking up for their pupation.

In years past I'd admired these stylish guys  feasting on well established fennel plants.  It turns out these caterpillars are particular fans of the carrot family, laying eggs on dill, fennel, and.....yup, parsley.

I was growing the parsley to share after all but we have loads of fennel and not so much parsley.  I decided to try to carefully move the feasting cats from one preferred plant to another.

As gentle as I tried to be, I did not get away with my transfer efforts without alarming the caterpillars enough to provoke the evertion of a forked gland called an osmeterium, which supposedly emits a foul smell to put off predators.

Ha!  Though I am no predator, when it comes to tolerating foul smells?  Caterpillars, if they could google humans, would soon come to understand no woman who has been involved in the care and laundry of a teenaged male, will be easily shoved aside by foul smells.

Even though I may be periodically deluded into thinking I am out working in our beds alone?  The garden is always an occupied space.  What is food for us is always also food for others.  Sharing the bounty is simply par for the course.