December Wrap Up

I've been neglectful of this space.  Who cares why, and I'm certainly not here to promise it will never happen again.  (I'm pretty sure this post will be standing here, lonely, for weeks yet to come.)

That said, I did want to share a bit of admittedly belated wildlife love for the month, as well as pointing out an unexpected but welcome pop of seasonal native color.

My wildlife appreciation this month does not consist of photographs of creatures, but rather I'm featuring two trees that draw those creatures in, month in and month out. The first is not a native, but it is most certainly a boon to natives.

The Loquat, or Eriobotrya japonica, is originally native to China where cultivars have been developed for over a thousand years.  Varieties were developed for home cultivation featuring flowers that open a few at a time, resulting in prolonged blooming with more gradual fruit development.  I don't know what cultivar we have, but it is certainly not that.

Ours goes all out, with no holds barred.  Bees visit in numbers great enough that on a quiet day you can hear them buzzing two stories up, in the tree's floriferous canopy.  Red Admiral and Question Mark butterflies love these trees.  They visit the flowers now and especially enjoy nectaring off the bounty of fallen fruit to come later.  Actually, the fruit seems to delight every critter around, feathered, furred or winged.  The flowers, though small, give off a lovely scent that reminds me of almonds.

Loquat trees have broad evergreen leaves that provide wonderful shade and protection all year.  The various spiders living in the ground covers below these trees must number in the hundreds. There's a little something for everybody, in Loquat Land.

Another tree, a native this time, one that gives as good as it gets?  The Cherry Laurel, or Prunus caroliniana.  This tree is also evergreen, providing a year round canopy that sports tiny white flowers and then shiny dark fruit that many birds enjoy once dried.

Cherry Laurels are mentioned as being especially beneficial to native bees, and that always makes me happy, too.

Last up?  I wanted to point out a bit of native seasonal color that often escapes notice. Oenothera speciosa, or Pink Evening Primrose is a lovely native wildflower that tends to disappear from view with summertime heat.

Given a little encouragement, the primrose stems pop back up after autumn rains and the resulting foliage responds beautifully to chilly nights. Shown above in a planter in mid November, you can see the tips of the Primrose's elongated leaves turning deep red as they get started on this year's comeback trail.

I've rarely seen it used as a container plant, but I find the color it provides definitely warrants its inclusion.  I find it especially lovely used in combination with succulents.

I'll admit this photo could be confusing - the flower shown is not the primrose itself in bloom but is rather a dianthus in the same planter responding similarly to the more favorable conditions of December.  Evening Primrose won't be flowering until Spring, but those rosy leaves seen behind the Dianthus flower are just as lovely to my eye.

Pink primroses are another native specified as beneficial to native bees, and I'm always relieved and happy to see them coming back into their own once summer's worst is behind us.  Red leaves now, pink blossoms later.  Win/win.

For other wonderful glimpses into the joys and benefits of wildlife gardening, please visit Tina of My Gardener Says for her monthly Wildlife Wednesday roundups.  In the comments section of each post you'll find links to thoughtful and accomplished wildlife gardeners from all around the globe.  There's simply no better way to spend time indoors.  

Thank you all for visiting and reading.  I'd like to extend my heartfelt wishes for a meaningful holiday season, warmly shared with family and friends.  Happy December  - may your days be merry and bright!

Happy National Wildflower Week!

I don't have much to add that hasn't already been said about the wisdom of using blooming native plants in your garden spaces.  To my mind, choosing wildflowers is its own reward.

Pink Evening Primrose and Winecup

Pink Evening Primrose seed pods

Purple Prairie Verbena and Pink Evening Primrose

The flowers make everybody happy, bees and birds and butterflies included.

Lemon Bee Balm

Native flowers push up and carry on through drought, and most of them laugh away deer.

Mexican Hat

There's one to survive in just about any microclimate you have on offer.

Yellow Coneflower 

Bluebonnets

Bluebonnet seed pods

As if that weren't enough, many natives either set easily gathered seed or multiply happily in place, creating an opportunity to share passalong plants with your family, friends and neighbors.

Hill Country Rain Lily

Rain Lily seed pods 

The next time you are considering adding a plant to your mix?  Do us all a favor.  Go wild!

Pokeweed

Happy National Wildflower Week everyone!  And Happy Mother's Day!  When you garden, it is no exaggeration to say you are mother to millions.  Here's hoping you will be feted and celebrated as you so richly deserve.

Scarcity and Desire

Growing up in Central Texas, I liked Pink Evening Primroses the best of all the spring flowers.  As a little girl, the masses of blossoms reminded me of the scene where Dorothy skips through a field of poppies in the movie, "The Wizard of Oz".

While most other people were waxing rapturous over the bluebonnets, it was the masses of pink flowers that I waited for with joyous anticipation.  Typically beginning their bloom phase later than the striking blue stalks of our state flower, the pink primrose patches lasted far longer, blooming well past the point when the oak pollen fell to negligible levels and I could venture out of doors again without concern for a supply of tissues for my nose.

After primroses, it was the appearance of Hill Country Rain Lilies I yearned for the most.  I was born during a historic draught.  As a young girl I picked up from the adults around me how desperately we needed precipitation.  It was no mystery why all but the most hardened hearts would quicken at the beautiful sight of tiny white flowers appearing alongside roads and fence rows in response to rain.  It was not only the beauty of the blooms that Texans welcomed, but also the life giving moisture that preceded them.

That was all forgotten however when I saw my first Winecup (Callirhoe involucrata).  Though I no longer remember exactly when or where it was I saw my first deep magenta bloom with the striking white center, I do know I fell immediately and deeply under its spell.

To this day I find them absolutely enchanting.  The shape, the color, the brevity of each flower's appearance.  I never get enough.

With my infatuation undiminished, it is a given that now I have my own outdoor spaces to manage, I've got a couple of winecup plants in our garden beds out back.  I had to move them from the front beds.  The deer like to eat them as much as I like looking at them.  Unfortunately, the only spots out back with enough sun and drainage in combination were already crowded. The winecups must fight for their place year to year.

But fight they do.  And perhaps it is precisely because of their relative scarcity that I still find myself  drawn time and time again to this particular scattering of blooms.

The Wine

by Sara Teasdale

I cannot die, who drank delight
 From the cup of the crescent moon,
And hungrily as men eat bread,
 Loved the scented nights of June.

The rest may die — but is there not
 Some shining strange escape for me
Who sought in Beauty the bright wine
 Of immortality?

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.

Apropos of April

I never seem to get organized in time to participate in variously occurring "days" where garden bloggers show off what is blooming at regular intervals (or in other cases, what their foliage stars are up to). I applaud those who do so.  I openly admit that sort of advance planning is not one of my strengths. 

Regardless, there is a lot going on in our spaces this time of year.  At the risk of being designated a "petal pusher" (I'm looking at you, DC!) and apropos of nothing more than April itself?  Here's what's been grabbing most of the local attention lately.

This Grass Spider (Agelenidae) is apparently suffering from an identity crisis as it spent all day posing on the pink evening primrose (Oenothera speciosa).

Coral honeysuckle (Lonicera sempervirens) has rewarded me for cutting back overhanging branches with an abundance of scarlet trumpets.

This stray cat has adopted our garden spaces.  We keep her well fed and I can gratefully report no signs of bird predation on her part, though she does find the water in the birdbath especially flavorful.

The Hub carefully repots and sets out his growing collection of Plumeria alba plants annually.  This anole (Anolis carolinensis) will be disappointed they've been moved to their summertime spot in the back as he was a regular sun bather out front in the afternoons.

This Corn Poppy (Papaver rhoeas or Flanders poppy) is not very deer resistant but I have hopes it will freely reseed so Bambi's periodic chomp-pruning won't keep me from having a few blooms each year.

The Northern Mockingbird (Mimus polyglottos) was designated the official state bird of Texas in 1927.  This one serenades the entire neighborhood from various perches in the tops of the oak trees.   Occasionally he'll set up in trees close to a street light on our corner and sing all night long.  All.  Night.  Long.

Yellow Coneflower (Ratibida pinnata - I think) glows in the morning sun.

Another singer in the local oaks - a black crested titmouse (Baeolophus atricristatus)

A consistent favorite of local gardeners and birds alike - Possumhaw Holly (Ilex decidua).

I realize Pyracantha coccinea is now considered invasive, but this one has been growing here since before we moved in and has reached considerable size and thorniness.  The birds love it and as long as I don't have any work to do in the bed close by, I do too.

It can look pretty sketchy off season, but it is hard to beat Damianita Chrysactinia mexicana) in bloom.

I wish these two were more seasonally synchronized, but at least I've got one "late" bluebonnet playing nicely with an "early" Salvia coccinea.

Mexican honeysuckle (Justicia specigera) growing in between paddles of Opuntia ellisiana.

The delicate bloom stalk of Provence Lavender (Lavandula Intermedia which grows well here in Texas), highlighted against a backdrop of Damianita.

With a promise of blooms to come, Opuntia ellisiana, or spineless prickly pear, is setting out rows of buds.

Those are most certainly the highlights of our garden spaces so far this April. Happy Earth Day 2014 (hey - I can plan ahead!) and thanks as always for dropping by.

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).