Blogger See, Blogger Do

Absolutely because I was reminded to check by this post of Xericstyle's about her gorgeous native Uvalde Texas barrel cacti in bloom, I went right out with my camera to see if my first ever flower bud on the native cholla had opened up.  First blooms are always special, and I get a little extra excited about taking pictures of every one.

I was totally that way with my children, weren't you?  We probably have 538 photos from the first 3 weeks of our first born child's life.  When it came to the second child, I still took lots of photos, but we'd learned to relax a bit by then (or exhaustion had worn us down - sort of the same thing) and did not feel the same urgency to record every single yawn, smile, and puzzled frown.

Our children are grown now (for whatever reason I refuse to call them adults though they are chronologically eligible) and honestly, if I can get two photos a year of either one I count myself fortunate.  So now I take my photographic urges out into the garden beds and fuss over the other babies - the plants.

But back to the bloom.  It is a good thing Heather motivated me to check back, because...ta daaaa!  The first flower ever to grace the cholla plant is open for business.

I'm pretty sure this is a Cylindropuntia imbricata.  It came unlabeled as a gift in one of those small mixed cacti garden dish bowls, years ago.  I moved it (gingerly) from this pot to that until I decided to take a deep breath and give it a bed to dominate.

I say dominate, because this guy gets big when released into the ground, and is so very prickly that weeding and working around one of any size is precarious.

At least for a gardener as uncoordinated as I am.  There's no telling when or where I might lurch or land as I unceremoniously yank or stretch to weed or prune.  Zigging when you should zag around a cholla?  No, thank you very much!  But with a sweet flower like this much can be forgiven, wouldn't you agree?

They Bring Their Own Light

There are some blooms that seem to create their own light.  I'm not sure if that is why I'm so drawn to them, but I can't seem to ever get enough.

Bee Balm (Monarda)

Other than how they draw the light, these plants don't seem to have much else in common. They certainly aren't all a certain color or take any particular form.  The Beebalm is a native perennial, the Grandpa Ott Morning Glory is a reseeding annual vine, one of the original plants offered by the Seed Saver's Exchange,

Granpa Ott Morning Glory -  "Bavarian Style" 

and the so-called Dwarf Pomegranate bush represents the hazards of buying a plant off the back of a truck from an unknown vendor.

I'd been shopping at one of my favorite local nurseries when an unmarked truck pulled up to deliver a shipment of plants. They had several extra pomegranate trees in pots supposedly "left over" from another nursery that had declined to take more than they'd originally ordered, and I inquired if I could have any. Marked "Dwarf Pomegranate" in chalk on the side, I figured I had just the spot for two and we quickly struck a deal.

As it turns out, the pomegranate trees grew to about eight feet.  It is the fruit that is small, not the trees themselves.  Details, you guys, details.

It matters not.  Though it means I'm trimming off suckers from the base for weeks each year, I chose to clip them up into a mini-canopy where they arch gracefully over the cobalt blue birdbath.  It is a vignette that puts a smile on my face nearly year 'round, especially this year when both trees seem to have gotten whatever they needed weather wise and are putting on an impressive display of flowers.

Speaking of impressive displays of flowers - the Opuntia ellisiana, or spineless prickly pear, are pulling out all the stops this year.  These blooms are amazing - they just glow.  I didn't pay a penny for any of mine - I got my first pad off a pile curbside from another gardener who was trimming her plants down.  One pad led to another and pretty soon I was the one with piles of pads to give away.  Spineless prickly pear - the Mother of All Passalongs.

And this last one, well, I actually don't know precisely what it will look like when it fully unfurls but, look!  My very first cholla blossom-to-be!  I've had this plant for years but I'm like a child with a new toy watching it bloom for the first time.  I can hardly wait to welcome it and see who else shows up to admire it along with me.