Giving April her due

Time for a slightly different approach.

I find this passalong Pavonia consistently charming.

I don't have much to say today.

Didn't see the butterfly that laid the egg for this guy.  Fortunately my observation was not key to the process.

I did want to share a few recent images from the garden.

Cedar waxwings stuck around to fill up on loquats before heading north.

Intermittent rains both watered and kept the heat at bay through the end of April.

Plants and pollinators alike are happy about that.

Pollinators of every stripe have been happy to share the loquat bounty.

So am I.

Question Mark Butterfly, (Polygonia interrogationis) is a fan of the fermenting loquat fruit. 

My oak pollen "problem" is over for another year, though other trees continue their courtship dances in and on the wind.

I am able to enjoy my gardens from the other side of the windows again.

Here's to time spent outside with no more than the usual set of possible consequences.

Pipevine Swallowtail (Battus philenor) visits Lantana.

Fare thee well, April, here's looking forward to May!

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.
 

Dashing through the....

pollen?

This time of year I spend most of my days indoors, though not entirely by choice. March, April and May are arguably the most pleasant months of the year in Central Texas.  Featuring moderate temperatures buffered by gentle breezes and offering flowers popping up everywhere, Spring is the ideal time to get outside and enjoy everything Texas has to offer.

Lady Banks Roses growing at Laguna Gloria

Ideal for some, that is.  I'm severely allergic to several trees that lavishly bestow their pollen upon the world each springtime, chief amongst those our beautiful Live Oaks (Quercus virginiana), mainstay of landscapes statewide. Every Spring while the oaks leaf out, I stay in, away from their pollen catkins releasing irritants that plague by triggering my overactive immune system.

You may well wonder, "have you tried...?" and I'll risk interrupting to tell you, "Yes.".  Yes, I've tried it all, and the best recourse I've found in order to support a reasonable facsimile of respiration while maintaining a semblance of good humor involves medication along with isolation.  As in isolating my nose, keeping it at least one filter away at all times from, well, the air.  The soft, warm, pollen laden air.

It has been like this since I was a youngster, and over the years I've learned how to make the best of my situation.  Time spent gazing out windows helps me plan for improved sight lines.  I run errands in batches, keeping my car windows closed.  I know what I can get away with, and what needs to be off the table until mid May.  And I (mostly) stick to that.

I venture out only in the late afternoons, when pollen counts are a bit lower. I stay out 15-20 minutes or less.  I multitask, putting out fresh nectar for the hummingbirds as I pass the feeders, weeding a small section of path while waiting for watering cans to fill from rain barrels and refreshing bird baths along the way.  I take along clippers and trowel, occasionally bringing a few blooms inside or handling a transplant that cannot wait.

And I try to always take my camera along.  Transitions are rapid.

A spiderwort volunteer transplanted out of a path last August

One day's bud is the next day's blossom.

This spiderwort went from bud to bloom overnight, attracting one of the tiniest pollinators I've ever caught in a photo.

Though not native I'm hoping the bottlebrush tree will help attract hummingbirds.

Oxeye Daisies

Twenty-four hours often marks the difference between swollen branch and fully developed leaves.

Sumac is one of the last to green up, wisely waiting until the chance for freezing weather is past.

Spring waits for no one, and I used to get a bit frantic annually as seasonal garden chores stacked up.  Reading about what other folks were reasonably accomplishing before the temperatures soared occasionally made me wonder why I didn't simply throw in the facial tissue and hire some help.

Ajuga blooms undaunted by a blanket of oak leaves.

I suppose it is because I am as stubborn as I am cheap.  Working the soil year in and year out, I know if I will wait, only wait, there will be plenty of time for me to get everything done in June, July and even August, long after sensible Texan gardeners have called it a year and retreated inside.

Carolina wren greets the sun

We all have our limitations.  I'm deeply grateful this particular one has fully predictable beginning and end points.  I'm grateful as well to all you non-pollen affected gardeners and bloggers who are out there working your spaces, touring, snapping photos and posting about the beauty unfolding around and under our lovely oak trees.  I'll be right back out there with you, in just a bit.

Out like a lamb...

If you regularly read garden blogs originating from Central Texas you are seeing a lot of wonderful photos of bluebonnets and mountain laurels in full bloom. Seasonal rains came at a good time, and folks are understandably smitten with the results.  We Texan gardeners can become a bit giddy over what looks to be a bumper crop of native blossoms. With the reappearance of the Death Star imminent, delicate flowers don't hang around for very long.  We can get a bit carried away.

That said, I am looking at things a bit differently this year, noticing differently, if you will, and this view absolutely took my breath away. Aside from the excitement around seasonal blossoms, to me, this is what the end of March looks like in Central Texas.

Surrounding Live Oaks (Quercus virginiana) adorned with new leaves forming alongside pollen catkins, are dappling every line of sight with the most achingly poignant shade of green imaginable.  They provide an absolutely idyllic backdrop for the reappearance, however brief, of Spring's denizens.

There.  You didn't think I'd let you go without showing you my mountain laurel, did you?  And, just because I can...

OK.  Now we're done.

Beginnings...

Garden ball Gazing Guy and I both want to wish everyone a very sweet First Day of Spring.

At least, if you live in this Hemisphere...  If not, stay warm and know that as soon as we are finished with it and clean up after?  We'll be sending Spring right back to your side of the globe/s.

Ready or not!

So far it is mostly the early self seeded bluebonnets in a bed out back that are already in bloom.

These bluebonnets established rosettes last summer before I even finished collecting seed pods. 

In addition to the over-achieving lupines out back however, yesterday I noticed one of the "regularly scheduled" bluebonnets in bloom on the plants growing alongside the curbing out front.

That "on time" bluebonnet, in combination with buds shooting up over rosettes and taking shape atop leafy stems of all descriptions, signals to me our recent warmer Spring weather has triggered The Great Unfurling.

Oxeye daisies are gearing up.

Pomegranate bushes have leaves left from last year dancing above the new growth emerging.

Every Fall I chastise myself for not pulling out more of the residual Vinca ground cover.  Then every Spring it decks itself out in purple blossoms, and all is forgiven for another season.

I'm noting swellings at branch nodes on even the typically tardy leafers - the sumac and althea are perhaps only a couple of weeks away from greening out. 

Sumac (Rhus lanceolata)

Althea bushes, while not native, are very well adapted to Texas weather and they've responded to warmer soil with opened seed pods in preparation for generating new plants as well as new leaves on established specimens.

Seed pods open up like flowers as a predictor for beauty yet to be realized.

The bottlebrush tree, another well adapted non-native, is getting ready to do...something! I'm not familiar enough with bottlebrush to recognize if these are blooms-to-be or simply new leaves on the way but they are very attractive in their own right...whatever they are.

Now that the bottle tree has a couple of years under its belt, I'm optimistic if these are not in fact blooms in progress, that the eventual flower display will (finally!) justify my interest in having one.

On a "blink and you'll miss it" timer, this spirea bush (cultivar unknown) is mere hours away from being covered in delicate white blossoms.

And as you'll see on the stem close up to the buds to the left in this closer shot, even the aphids are back (if they ever really went away).

I never noticed aphids on the spirea before, which probably means only just that - I never noticed. I'm coming to realize most of the activity I notice going on in my gardens has always been going on, right under my nose.  Since things are doing reasonably well without my intervention, watching and waiting for natural systems to balance themselves out over time is usually a safe move.

A safe move depending on your gardening goals, that is.  The spaces here behind the fence are private. Except for close friends or family, we don't invite visitors in.  If things look a little ragged, we don't mind.  Other than grabbing a shot for those of you coming here to read blog posts I don't have to get beds "viewing ready" for anything or anybody.  And the many lessons to be learned? They will wait until the pupil is ready.  This garden is keeping to a schedule all its own.