Gardening (and loss)

Recent hail storms in the Central Texas area reminded everybody in no uncertain terms how humans make plans while the weather always manages to have the last word.

The destruction in our neighborhood was significantly less severe than in areas just a couple of miles away.  Arbitrary, insensate, the storm shuffled and hurled walls of ice, accompanied by flattening winds.  The track of the storm displayed no care for garden, or gardener.

In combination with this date's many celebrations of Earth Day, it all got me to thinking about gardening.  More specifically about how, hard as a gardener might work to get a garden "just so", as with any living thing, change is the only constant.

Black chin or rufous?  Impossible to tell in this photo but appearing the morning after the hail storm, and first of the season.

Whatever corner of the outdoor world we frequent, it is filled with little creatures working through life cycles that can seem accelerated to human sensibilities.  The gardener, out and about, working in and enjoying spaces in wildlife's company, cannot help but be aware of their arrivals, and occasionally even of their passing.

Blanket flower/Gaillardia pulchella

Plants go in and out of favor.  Last year's weed becomes this year's coveted native ground cover.  Horseherb, long considered a bane to St. Augustine lawns, is now just as often welcomed as a low growing xeric alternative to grassy monocultures.

Horseherb/Calyptocarpus vialis

Other native plants are sought out and valued not only for their toughness and willingness to spread.  Blooms that attract butterflies are valued for the enjoyment they bring in combination.  Flower spiders, though uninvited, are equally pleased with the arrangement.

Crab spider/Thomisidae captures a Juniper Hairstreak/Callophyrys gryneus, aka dinner.

Unless of course, said native also delivers everybody's least favorite irritant (urushoil).  Poison ivy is native across the lower 48 states and as far as I can tell, universally reviled.  Despite all that it has berries birds love and also attracts butterflies.  As wonderful as I ordinarily find those two qualities to be, I yet spent hours yesterday in amateur hazmat gear, carefully removing every sprig I could find.

Poison ivy/Toxicodendron radicans

As a gardener, my plans and practices offer the pretext of control.  I determine what is pet and what is pest.

No-spot ladybug, Cycloneda munda on Pink Evening Primrose, Oenothera speciosa

I move about consciously dealing out death to targeted lives.  On this individual scale my actions could read every bit as arbitrary and insensate as the violent weather fronts that damage one garden, while leaving another garden unscathed.

Striped Rabdotus snail/Raddotus alternatus

Lessons learned or ignored, beauty is yet a constant companion.  Generations of a native flower discovered and then taken from a graveyard now bring joy to countless other spaces dedicated to growth and life.

Henry Duelberg salvia/Salvia farinacea

Color and form are there to be appreciated at every scale.

Black-and-yellow Lichen Moth/Lycomorpha pholus on Lance-leafed Coreopsis/Coreopsis lanceolata

We human beings want what we want.  Carelessly I can accept desired results as my just reward while experiencing undesired results as an personal affront.

Clasping coneflower/Dracopis amplexicaulis

All along, while we alternately chafe and cheer, natural systems patiently play out their schemes, both long and short.  Things live, things die, things change.

Winecup/Callirhoe involucrata

The earth, carrying its life forms as both blessing and burden, moves mysteriously in and out of our conscious consideration.

We plan, we plant, we celebrate successes and mourn losses.  We fret and we frolic, right up to the moment when we ourselves leave this life for whatever comes next.

I find it all a little overwhelming.  When I think about it at all.