A Pearl of a Vine

Posted on May 29, 2013 by Meredith

Once again, nature has brought me a gift — one of my favorite vines, and one that I’ve only ever seen in the wild. So I guess it’s fitting that I found it in the wild portion of my yard. Thank you, wind or mammal, whichever of you that brought this seed to my garden!

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This lovely plant is called Green Milkweed Vine (Matelea reticulata) by some, but I prefer to call it by its other common name, Pearl Milkweed Vine. That shiny little center spot looks too much like a pearl to not include it in the name.

The vine will, in fact, ooze a milky sap if a leaf is broken off. If you are wondering whether it is a Monarch/Queen host plant, given that it is a Milkweed, some online sources indicate that it is indeed one, albeit a minor food source for them, perhaps. Personally, I haven’t yet seen a caterpillar on it.

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This vine is more dainty than bold, and it’s easy to pass right by it when walking in the woods. But once you catch a glimpse of its shiny little pearls, it’s mesmerizing. Mine is currently twined around a bunch grass — and annoyingly, some hackberry sprouts — but it’s growing well. I haven’t actually found the base of the vine yet — I’m so protective of it that I barely want to mess with the tangle. pearlmilkvineC05-29-13

The leaves of the Pearl Milkweed Vine are heart-shaped, and when it’s time to go to seed, this dainty vine will actually produce a whopper of a seed pod, much like its Milkweed cousins. Inside will be many seeds with silky fibers to aid in dispersal. I can’t wait!

Developing the Buffalo Grass Patch

Posted on May 3, 2013 by Meredith

A few years ago, I threw some Buffalo Grass seeds (Bouteloua dactyloides) into a patchy area of our backyard. Buffalo Grass is a short, native prairie grass. Because it is so adapted for our hot Texas environment, it doesn’t need much care. It stays 3-8 inches high without mowing, is quite drought tolerant, and it thrives in the sun. It’s a much better alternative to non-native turf grasses, such as Bermuda Grass. Of course, Bermuda Grass was what existed in our backyard when we started the take-back process back in 2008, the goal being to transform our yard into a wildlife haven.

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I hoped for success, but I hadn’t done any ground preparation — our garden was at its very beginning stages at the time, and I had other priorities, namely getting perennials established in the butterfly garden area. I threw the seeds out into the yard, mainly because I worried they’d lose their viability before I’d ever have a chance to prep the soil, and I figured at least that way they’d have a chance to get started. Fortunately, there were some patches of dirt where the Bermuda Grass had been scorched to death by the sun, then tilled, so to speak, by our rambunctious dogs. The Buffalo Grass seeds were on their own, subject to the elements, to potential smothering by Bermuda, and to getting gobbled up by birds or trampled by dogs. But happily some Buffalo Grass did sprout, and each season I’d see more and more Buffalo Grass seed stalks show up. Each time, I’d try to let them complete their cycle, so that more grass would grow.

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This spring, our Buffalo Grass patch is quite dense, with only a few spots of weeds that I’m plucking out by hand. The thin gray-green blades billow softly in the breeze, and the effect is quite lovely.

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Right now, the patch is covered with inflorescences, or grass flowers. Buffalo Grass is dioecious, meaning that male and female flowers occur on separate plants.

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Right now, I’m seeing mostly male inflorescences, but I have to assume that female flowers will show up soon. When they do, they will appear in little clusters low on the plant.

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Bees and other pollinators are busy in the Buffalo Grass patch. I admire the tenacity of the honeybees — they are so heavy that when they land on the blade of grass, they weigh it down toward the ground. But there is plenty of pollen to be had, at least. Look closely at the photo above — see the grains floating in the air, just past the bee’s head?

beeonbuffalograssB05-01-13 You can also see how big the pollen sacs are on this little honeybee.

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While basking in the awesomeness of my little Buffalo Grass patch, I noticed another visitor. This young spider tried to pretend it was an inflorescence at the top of a blade of grass. Be the flower… be the flower. My friend Spider Joe helped narrow down the ID to a likely Cheiracanthium inclusum, an American Yellow Sac Spider — or possibly a member of the Anyphaenidae family. Spider Joe and I agree that it’s pretty cute, whichever species it is.

The little spider soon decided to just move to a blade with an inflorescence already present — perhaps it will have a better chance of catching an unsuspecting pollinator that way.

buffalograssD05-01-13 And so it grows, does my Buffalo Grass patch. With luck, the female inflorescences will appear soon, and soon thereafter, so will seeds. Lucky for me, Buffalo Grass also spreads by stolons, or above-ground runners — where the plant touches the ground, it can take root. Sometimes Buffalo Grass roots can reach 5-6 feet into the ground, but most will be closer to the surface of the soil. I suspect my Buffalo Grass patch has relied on a lot on spreading by stolons — this is just fine with me. It can do so right up near my garden beds, too — it won’t be hard to keep it out of the beds. Not like Bermuda, the grass of nightmares.

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What thrills me is that the Buffalo Grass seems to be naturally winning against the more aggressive Bermuda Grass. Usually you hear the opposite scenario! Perhaps it’s because I limit the Bermuda’s spread by never watering it and by keeping it cropped short before it goes to seed (at least, I try to keep it cropped). I don’t water the Buffalo Grass either, actually, but I do let it go to seed, and there’s no reason to mow it more than a couple of times a year.

What it means is that I have hope that one day in the relatively near future I might be able to rip out the remaining Bermuda and get the Buffalo Grass to fully take over. I’m not fooling myself into thinking the Bermuda Grass will just give up and die. But I see the possibilities, and each year the area of Bermuda Grass shrinks. My Buffalo Grass has become an ally in the endeavor to rid the yard of Bermuda, and as I dig out Bermuda roots, layer in cardboard and mulch to build new beds, and give the non-native turf the evil eye, the Bermuda Grass shrinks, and the Buffalo Grass has a chance to grow even stronger.

When My Baby Trees Are All Grown Up

Posted on April 9, 2013 by Meredith

This past week was a busy but good one — three different presentations related to Texas flora and fauna kept me at a nonstop pace for a while. But somewhere in there I managed to get a few pictures, too. On Wednesday I had the pleasure of talking about wildlife gardening with the Comal Master Gardeners 2013 class, and while in New Braunfels, I visited Landa Park. The Arboretum there is home to many very old and beautiful trees, and it gave me a chance to see what some of my younger (and as such still small) trees will hopefully look like one day. For example, my Anacuas are only about 5-6 feet tall, but hopefully as they blossom, literally and figuratively, they will be the delights of my garden and look like this:

Anacua (Ehretia anacua)

And this:

No blooming tree is complete without a close-up:

Seeing stars, like I am? Just look at those blooms!

Do you see why I love them so? Actually, I adore them mostly for the sandpaper-like texture of their leaves, completely unexpected given their bountiful white star-like blooms and the delightful fragrance they emit. It’s just absolutely endearing that such a lovely plant could have such roughness overall. FYI, these plants grow in South Texas and Mexico, as far north as Austin. Don’t be fooled into thinking you want one, too, if you live up north!

Someday I’ll be able to show you pictures of their edible orange and yellow berries, so beloved by birds (you can take a peek at the Wildflower Center’s image here). But at least I can show you the unusual fluted appearance of the trunk of a mature Anacua:

Such character!

Here you can see a small grove of Anacuas near the Landa Park golf course.

They really are gorgeous trees, and I’m so proud to have two in my yard. I would plant more if I could, but my other trees might get jealous (and actually, I’m starting to run out of room for big trees). Still, I can’t wait for them to get big.

Desert Willow

Landa Park has many other beautiful tree specimens, including their historic Founder’s Oak, more than 300 years old (I didn’t have a chance to get a picture of it — alas!). Above is a very mature Desert Willow — I had no idea that eventually they take on a more gnarly appearance than a willowy one, but of course that endears them to me, too.

Texas Persimmon

Also surprising was the enormous size of this Texas Persimmon, whose trunk and branches remind me of Hulk Hogan.

The tree’s tiny blooms will soon produce fruit, edible by birds and mammals (including us — mmmm, persimmon jelly). In comparison, my little backyard Texas Persimmons have a ways to go yet (but one of them did produce its first 2 fruits just last year).

Mexican Buckeye

While many of the trees in Landa Park are decades to centuries old, young trees of a variety of species, such as the Mexican Buckeye in bloom above, have been planted in recent years in order to continue to further beautify and expand the diversity of the Arboretum. These plantings, as well as the ongoing care to maintain and monitor the health of all the park’s trees, is a combined effort of the city of New Braunfels, its Urban Forestry program, and many local garden clubs and organizations — they recognize the importance of trees to a community, and the results are simultaneously breath-taking and inspiring. Also underway is New Braunfels’ first EARIP project (Edwards Aquifer Recovery Implementation Program), in which they will work to restore habitat for the endangered fountain darter and other endangered Comal Springs species.

American Smoke Tree

While Landa Park’s American Smoke Tree might still be young by tree standards, it still seems gigantic to the 1-2 foot tall specimens I have in my yard, so small that I’m still working to ensure they establish.

In all, Landa Park’s Arboretum is home to at least 55 species of trees, most of which are native. The Arboretum walk is 1.25-miles, and you can print a map here to take with you if you have a chance to visit. There’s history to many of the trees that were selected for the Arboretum, whether native or non-native.

I’ll end the tour with a big, old Cottonwood over by the river.

Even though I don’t personally grow a Cottonwood, as it is a riparian tree, I fell in love with the bark and had to share a pic. Cottonwoods are excellent shade providers, are great for erosion control, and they are a host plant for several species of butterflies.

It turns out that my quick tree tour wasn’t nearly long enough to satisfy me. I must go back soon.

Goldenrod Bliss

Posted on November 2, 2012 by Meredith

This fall, the Tall Goldenrod in my backyard reminds me once again why it deserves substantial recognition among native plants. Admittedly, it was planted by a bird in a less than convenient spot in my garden, but the rewards it offers pollinators make it a very valuable plant, and I most happily welcome it — even if it would look better against the fence rather than rising out of my shorter perennial butterfly garden like a giant, absurdly-placed monument. Well, I regularly talk about the importance of layers in nature — I shall simply embrace the layers nature brought to my butterfly garden. When I say Goldenrod, by the way, I mean that in a plural sense — I might have started with one, but I now have more, as is the nature of the plant.

Sphaenothecus bivittata, Double-banded Bycid

Double-banded Bycid pair mating (Longhorn beetles, Sphaenothecus bivittata)
(with an interested 3rd party above)

The vibrantly-colored Goldenrod is currently a source of high drama in my garden. Nectar and pollen banquets have brought pollinators by the hundreds, and along with lurking predators, insect mating, and numerous larvae moving about, there is a constant flurry of activity going on in and around the bright yellow blooms and tall stems. In terms of habitat, the Goldenrod seems to be representative of an entire ecosystem — nature is hard at work, with all its wonderful interactions between different animal species and with the Goldenrod plants themselves. The role of Goldenrod is vital, providing a nutritious food source for late-season insects and other animals.

Goldenrods, or Solidago species, are members of the Aster family. Often similar in leaf and flower appearance, with natural variations in individual species to boot, the plants can be difficult to distinguish from each other. This causes great confusion for those trying to properly identify the species of the particular Goldenrods they encounter. For example, my Tall Goldenrod appears to be Solidago altissima, which some sources say is a subunit of Solidago canadensis, while others consider it to be a separate species. Yet another similar species is Solidago gigantea, or Giant Goldenrod. But for the plant in my garden, its narrow tri-veined leaves, pyramidal collections of tiny composite flowers, fine or absent serration on leaf edges, fine hairs on stems and leaves, and enormous height indicate that it is most likely altissima, but it all depends on the sources you agree with, because canadensis might be sufficient enough an ID. In any case, I appear to be growing what could be called Tall Goldenrod, Late Goldenrod, or Canada Goldenrod. What I do know is this: it’s a Goldenrod. Done.

Augochloropsis metallica, Metallic Green Sweat Bee

Metallic Green Sweat Bee, Augochloropsis metallica

Goldenrods’ normal habitats are fields and prairies, open woodlands, roadsides, ditches, rocky outcrops, disturbed areas, and waste areas. They often spread by rhizomes, creating colonies of clones, and this somewhat aggressive behavior is one reason some people consider Goldenrods weeds. There are species less prone to spreading, and those are perhaps better choices for smaller gardens. In my garden, my single plant has become a colony of about 12 clones, but what that means is that now I have 12 large, gorgeous bloom clusters to support wildlife. Goldenrods also can spread by seed, of course, which is how I ended up with a Goldenrod in my garden in the first place.

Goldenrods on occasion get another bad rap, unreasonably so. People suffering from hay fever sometimes wrongfully blame Goldenrods, which bloom about the same times as the wind-pollinated Ragweed, the true allergy-causing culprit. Goldenrod is mainly insect-pollinated, its pollen too heavy to be blown very far. Think of all those poor Goldenrods, mistakenly cut down when Ragweed was really to blame!

Goldenrods have high wildlife value. They are extremely important to pollinators, offering copious nectar and large, sticky pollen grains. At any point in the warmth of the day, I have hundreds of pollinators visiting the blooms. Standing up close to the flowers, I enjoy the movement of flying insects all around me, bees and wasps completely ignoring me as I turn blooms here and there for a picture or to study a particular insect. They just go about their business, eagerly moving from bloom to bloom to bloom. One cool morning, I even found three honeybees effectively frozen on the Goldenrod flowers, waiting to be warmed by the sun so they could begin to collect pollen again.

Syrphid fly

I can say confidently that the fragrant and bright Goldenrods have attracted the largest variety of insects of any plant in my wildlife garden. Multiple bee and wasp species, as well as a variety of flies, beetles, butterflies, and true bugs are attracted to the tantalizing blooms. In terms of numbers, the honeybees are the most plentiful, followed closely by numerous sweat bees, all gathering pollen and nectar. There are also many bee mimics, typically flies; their black and yellow coloration potentially help protect them from danger.

White Crab Spider

But where there are such numerous insects, beneficial predators are certain to follow, including spiders, dragonflies, birds, lady beetles and their larvae, and other natural population controllers. Many birds and mammals benefit directly from Goldenrods, as well. For example, Goldfinches and some sparrows eat Goldenrod seeds. Sometimes mammals, small and large, will eat the foliage, though it’s typically not a preferred food source for them.

Aside from the fun I’ve been having watching all the wildlife visiting my Goldenrods, there’s no denying that the bright yellow blooms provide a tremendously attractive pop of color to my garden. They love full sun and can tolerate part shade, and they like it neither too wet nor too dry. Blooms occur from late summer to fall, depending on the species. Often Goldenrods are paired with Fall Aster for a beautiful contrast of color. If there is a concern about potential spreading, transplant regularly and remove spent flowers before they go to seed. Otherwise, let your Goldenrod plants expand naturally if you have the space to allow them to do so — the pollinators will thank you for it!

Allow me to show off some more of the creatures that have been visiting my Goldenrods. Get ready for some yellow!

Scaly Bee Fly (Lepidophora lepidocera), with a Honeybee

Scaly Bee Fly

Close-up of the Scaly Bee Fly (Lepidophora lepidocera), with Honeybee.
Note the humped shape of the bee fly.

American Snout Butterfly on Goldenrod

American Snout Butterfly

Thread-waisted solitary wasp

Metallic Green Sweat Bee, Augochloropsis metallica

Odontomyia cincta, soldier fly

Soldier Fly, Odontomyia cincta

Lady beetles, mating

Ladybug larva

Ladybug larva

Syrphid fly

Just a sample of many!

A Visit to the Home of Lindheimer, Father of Texas Botany

Posted on May 3, 2012 by Meredith

In April I had the pleasure of speaking to the Comal Master Gardeners 2012 trainees about wildlife gardening, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to include a visit to the Lindheimer Home and gardens in New Braunfels.
Ferdinand Lindheimer, an extraordinary naturalist and the first permanent-resident botanist of Texas, is particularly notable in part for his vast contributions in the collecting and categorizing of thousands of Texas native plants but also for his unique role in other aspects of Texas history. In fact, his skilled passion for Texas flora earned Lindheimer an honorary title, the “Father of Texas Botany.”

In preparation for writing this article, I drove downtown to the Austin History Center, which includes in its collection of archived books and documents one copy of the translated letters of Lindheimer to renowned botanist George Engelmann, enclosed in the book A Life Among the Texas Flora, by Minetta Altgelt Goyne (note: this is book is still in print and available for purchase). My goal was not to read the entire book that day but merely to get a feel for the passion behind Lindheimer’s plant collecting, as well as to take a closer look at his personal and family history.

Ferdinand Jacob Lindheimer was born on May 21, 1802 (some sources say 1801), in Frankfurt, Germany. Immigrating to the United States in 1834 during a time of political unrest in Germany, Lindheimer traveled first to Illinois and then to Mexico by way of New Orleans. For a short while, he worked on a couple of plantations in Mexico, collecting plants and insects in his spare time. Upon hearing about the Texas Revolution, however, he returned north to enlist in the army, missing the Battle of San Jacinto by a day. After completing his time in the army, Lindheimer farmed for a short while in the Houston area, all the while studying Texas plants and insects.

Silk Tassel, named after Lindheimer (Garrya ovata ssp. Lindheimeri), growing wild

Beginning in 1839, Lindheimer spent some time with George Engelmann, botanist at the Missouri Botanical Garden in St. Louis, and Harvard botanist Asa Gray, eventually working out an arrangement to collect and send thousands of Texas floral specimens for categorization. This arrangement would last about nine years. Along with the specimens, Lindheimer wrote long detailed letters to Englemann, and much can be learned about Lindheimer, life and culture in the early settlement of Texas, and Texas’ valuable ecology and geography just by reading the translated letters.

Through Lindheimer’s letters, we learn of his fondness for sweet native grapes and how pecans and persimmons were regular food sources. We learn of different wildlife he encountered, his attention to physical fitness and health, his understanding of local Native American tribes, and just how many species of cacti and yucca there really are in Texas.
Often Lindheimer gave detailed accounts of the trials of travel or difficult bouts with illness, and finances were always a necessary topic to discuss with Engelmann, who paid Lindheimer for his plant collections. But sometimes, Lindheimer would add in the most interesting of comments, such as, “Dr. Koester’s medical treatments here are mostly unfortunate, often ghastly. Do let me know [through your contacts in] Frankfurt whether he is competent at all to practice even as a last resort.” [p. 117]

Texas Star (Lindheimera texana), growing wild

Sometimes Lindheimer’s descriptions of the Texas landscape were so poetic that I longed to have been a witness to the Texas that once was. In reference to the area that would become New Braunfels, Lindheimer wrote: “It is sufficient that we are at least here, where the streams flow crystal clear over the rocky beds. The fluid element gleams emerald green, and in its greater depths the fish rush back and forth visibly. Powerful springs cascade down from the rocky hills. They are probably subterranean brooks that have gathered in the caves of the limestone boulders and suddenly come to the surface. Forest, grazing land, and land for cultivated fields of the best quality are available. But what does that matter to me? Palmate yuccas, cactus, and mimosas and the fragrance and blossoms of them all, that’s for me. Here I have seen for the first time the total splendor of the prairies. Flower upon flower, richer than the richest Persian carpet….[p.112] If you are interested in Texas’ natural and cultural history, Goyne’s A Life Among the Texas Flora: Ferdinand Lindheimer’s Letters to George Engelmann is an excellent source of enlightenment.

When Prince Carl of Solms-Braunfels purchased Texas land for a German colony in 1844, Lindheimer served as a guide for the immigrants. He was deeded land in the new German settlement of New Braunfels and built his home on land overlooking the blue Comal River, and from there he continued his plant collecting, got married, and began his family. It is estimated that during his entire lifetime, Lindheimer collected between 80,000 and 100,000 specimens, many of which were discoveries of new species or sub-species.

Lindheimer was known for his mild voice but strong opinions. He was an active supporter of freedom and justice.

As a botanist, he was respected by many Native Americans, and in fact the fierce Kiowa chief Santanta was a regular visitor to Lindheimer’s home. (Note: On the wall in the front room of Lindheimer’s home one can see the painting above of Chief Santana by Ralph Wall; it was added to the home in 1980.)

For 20 years, Lindheimer served as the first editor of the Neu-Braunfelser Zeitung, a bilingual German-English newspaper that lasted more than a century. He published the newspaper from his house and included his own sometimes controversial writings. He was involved in local education and served as the county’s first Justice of the Peace. After his retirement, Lindheimer returned to his passion for Texas plants, until his death on December 2, 1879.

Today the Lindheimer Home is under the care of the New Braunfels Conservation Society. It has been restored to look much as it did during Lindheimer’s lifetime. John Turner, who gave us a tour of the Lindheimer home, was greatly involved in the restoration, which was completed in 1995.

Stucco covers three sides of the main building, with the remaining surface exposing the fachwerk, or half-timbering, technique employed by German settlers, with rocks or brick filling space between the timbers.

The house has a second-story loft, as well as a cellar, and a second building sits where the former outhouse had been.

Inside, one sees much of the original furniture used by Lindheimer and his family.

Original newspapers and plant specimens, as well as photographs and other items, are out on display. The image above is Lindheimer’s granddaughter Sida and her husband.

The Comal Master Gardeners do an exquisite job of maintaining pristine colorful gardens around the quaint Lindheimer house. The gardens are a combination of assorted Texas natives, popular favorites, and a selection of plants specifically named after Lindheimer.

Lindheimer Morning Glory (Ipomoea lindheimeri)

The most notable perhaps was the dainty but beautiful Lindheimer’s Morning Glory, freshly blooming just in time for my visit.

The Master Gardeners visiting with us said they hope to continue increasing the Lindheimer plants, especially those well suited for a garden (for not all of the Lindheimer plants would qualify as being ideal choices). After reading Lindheimer’s letters that accompanied his plant specimen shipments to Engelmann, I’d like to also suggest continuing to add native plant species that Lindheimer particularly loved collecting from the Texas wild – what fun it would be to research those! For it cannot be questioned that Lindheimer’s true passion was Texas flora, not just collecting it but experiencing adventure along the way.
But the Lindheimer garden is truly charming, and I commend the Master Gardeners for their dedication to creating such a lovely setting that is both an array of color and a tribute to Lindheimer. It is a garden that is a pleasure to stroll through. In fact, I was so delighted with the Lindheimer Morning Glory that I made sure to purchase one for my own garden at the Wildflower Center plant sale soon thereafter.

Today, many plant species (and one snake) bear the name Lindheimer in their scientific name. Depending on the source, there are at least 30 such species and possibly more than 40, but with taxonomic changes happening all the time, there is no way for me to confirm an accurate number. But after touring the Lindheimer Home and gardens and knowing that I intended to write this article, I decided to increase my personal collection of plants named for Lindheimer, and so far I am up to at least 7 (there might be others on the property):

· Silk Tassel (Garrya ovata ssp. lindheimeri)

· Lindheimer’s Senna (Senna lindheimeriana)

· Big Muhly (Muhlenbergia lindheimeri)

· Lindheimer’s Morning Glory (Ipomoea lindheimeri)

· Lindheimer’s Beebalm (Monarda lindheimeri)

· Texas Star (Lindheimera texana)

· Devil’s Shoestring (Nolina lindheimeriana)

I’m technically not counting Evergreen Sumac (Rhus virens Lindheimer ex Gray), but some people do — in any case, I have it. With luck, someday I’ll be growing again White Gaura (Gaura lindheimeri), which succumbed to drought, and perhaps I’ll be able to add Balsam Gourd (Ibervillea lindheimeri), Woolly Ironweed (Vernonia lindheimeri), and others to the list.

Thank you to John Turner of the New Braunfels Conservation Society and to the Comal Master Gardeners for sharing a moment in time with Lindheimer with me. The friendliness of my tour guides, my love of Texas botany, and my being a former resident of New Braunfels made my visit just like coming home. Plus I had a great time speaking to the 2012 Master Gardener class. On the way home, I viewed wildflowers in the Texas Hill Country. What a great day!

Note: If you are wanting to visit the Lindheimer Home, you’ll need to contact New Braunfels Conservation Society in advance to arrange a tour. In fact, I hear that the entire NBCS Conservation Plaza is a must-see, and it is a must-see I must see on my next visit!

A Rainbow of Texas Wildflowers

Posted on April 18, 2012 by Meredith

Over the past three weeks, I’ve been lucky enough to head out to the Hill Country a few times to see the beautiful Texas wildflowers blanketing fields and roadside edges in color this spring. They have been a most welcome sight, as last year the drought meant there were almost no springtime wildflowers at all. Thank goodness for the little bit of rain we’ve had.

Take a walk on the wild(flower) side with me…

Indian Paintbrush

Blackfoot Daisy

Firewheel, or Indian Blanket

Prairie Fleabane

Texas Bluebonnets, our official state flower, with Prickly Pear, our official state plant

Mexican Hat

Missouri Evening-Primrose

Prairie Verbena and Coreopsis

Damianita

Coreopsis

Texas is beautiful all around, but never more so than in the spring!

—————

End note: Our state is having a terrible time with an invasive plant called Bastard Cabbage, or common giant mustard (Rapistrum rugosum). I had to drive quite a distance to find pristine pockets of wildflowers in the Hill Country, for vast areas have become covered with this awful plant, which originated in the Mediterranean and thrives in the same places and soil our wildflowers do. But then it takes over with its long tap roots, large size, and prolific seeds. I opted not to show a picture of the Bastard Cabbage (my son calls it “Bad Word” cabbage) so as not to taint my post with its presence. I’m mentioning it only because I worry about the trouble our wildflowers are having!

Cheers for Floral Pom-poms

Posted on April 16, 2012 by Meredith

It’s that time of year again when pom-pom blooms abound, and I can’t help but want to do a cheer.

Swaying gently in the breeze, the Goldenball Leadtree (Leucaena retusa) towers above my spineless Opuntia as a tall yet airy backdrop. Bright yellow pom-poms stand out against the evergreen foliage, an eye-catching combination. But perhaps most enticing of all, the Goldenball Leadtree’s fragrant nectar beckons bumblebees and butterflies to partake in its sweetness, and I can’t help but take a long whiff of the delightful aroma myself.

Fragrant Mimosa (Mimosa borealis) is a vision of delicate pink fluff.

The soft pink puffballs are a contrast to the sneaky thorns up and down the branches.

I’m slightly behind in showing the photos of the Fragrant Mimosa in bloom — this week, it has already erupted in seedpods. Take a closer look above — even the seedpods have prickles. This makes both seed collecting and seed cleaning an adventure everytime.

Likewise, Huisache (Acacia farnesiana) beckons one over with its fragrant orange-gold blossoms, but watch out for its wicked thorns.

All over town, Huisache trees have been sharing their golden colors and intoxicating scent. It was tempting to bring one of these home from the Wildflower Center’s plant sale this past weekend, but I resisted, as I suspect my backyard is not an appropriate setting.

All are native Texas plants. The first two are in my garden, and the Huisache I admired at the Wildflower Center.

2-4-6-8, Pom-Poms I appreciate!

Stop the Presses

Posted on March 19, 2012 by Meredith

The boys and I just returned from a truly fun-filled wildlife-a-plenty trip to Florida, and you’d think I’d jump right in and start showing you photos. But no — first I have to show off some of the gorgeous blooms that welcomed us home. But no again, because oh my gosh I found something cool in the backyard while wandering around looking at blossoms. This creature of such colossal awesomeness must be given absolute priority in wildlife garden blogging. And here it is.

Yes, I can already hear your response. Something, I’m sure, along the lines of “What the blazes is THAT?” And perhaps there’s a part of you also saying, “Geez, Meredith is so very weird.” But,my friends, I must introduce you to this amazing creature — it is known as a trashline orbweaver spider. Can you find the spider?

Take another look:

Lo and behold, a spider I only learned about just last Saturday is right here in our backyard!

A trashline orbweaver spider has a very unique way of camouflaging itself. It creates a line of insect remains and other debris stuck together with silk. Then it sits right in the center and blends in, making it hard for birds to notice it and also staying well hidden from unsuspecting but potentially tasty insect passersby.

It was incredibly windy outside, so it was near impossible to get a sharp image of a bobbing spider on a bobbing spider web, but here’s a zoom-in on the spider.

After such a treasure of a find, does it really matter that my Crossvines are producing the most spectacular display of color ever?

They are climbing up and over the shade sails, as they please.

Does it really matter that the Texas native White Honeysuckle shrub, Lonicera albiflora, is covered in divinely fragrant blossoms?

Or that its cousin, the native Coral Honeysuckle, is perhaps at last displaying its full glory, climbing thickly to the top of the fence with its intense red blooms ever so vibrant against the dense green foliage?

Would one notice the pink and puffy blossoms of the Fragrant Mimosa?

And look at this:

A single Pomegranate bud waiting to open. Let’s hope that more buds will emerge very soon, else I won’t have much hope of Pomegranates this fall.

What about the Blackfoot Daisies, twice as big as when I planted them before our trip?

Yes, of course — they all matter!

Even this Buckmoth caterpillar, which thankfully I didn’t step on with my bare foot (I can still remember the painful sting from the caterpillar that found my foot last year), is a welcome sight in my yard. Though the caterpillar might be a stinging kind, it (or its flying adult form) is a potential food source for birds or bats or owls. Therefore, it matters, too!

Driving Home with a Giant Silk Moth

Posted on March 5, 2012 by Meredith

This weekend’s habitat event was helping install wildlife-friendly native plants to create a beginning wildlife garden at the Austin Groups for the Elderly building, known locally as the AGE building. This non-profit organization “empowers caregivers, the elderly and their families through education, advocacy, resources and support” and is a daytime care and resource facility for older members of our community.

Habitat volunteers from the City of Austin, Travis Audubon, and NWF, along with friends and family and AGE staff, got right to work. The first task was scraping out clover and grass from the future beds.

Next, volunteers watered the soil a bit, then placed a carefully arranged layer of cardboard, which also was made wet.

On top of that, we layered soil where necessary, and topped it all with single-shred mulch, kept thin under the trees. This method of lawn reduction is effective and remarkably simple.

The final step was adding plants, including Mexican Buckeye, Shrubby Boneset, Texas Mulberry, Evergreen Sumac, Turk’s Cap, Crossvine, and others. The plants were small, but small is all it takes!

The garden is a favorite sitting area for many AGE members, and the new habitat will attract many butterflies and birds for visitors’ viewing pleasure. The building also houses our Travis Audubon office — so we’re extra glad to have a new habitat right outside!

As we were getting ready to leave, my husband called me over to see a creature hanging upside-down from the car of a volunteer. It turned out to be a gorgeous Lepidopteran.

The volunteer was quite concerned, and to be honest, from a distance it really did look like a bat was hanging from his window. But I rushed right over to rescue it, and it proved to be a stunning, yet frail, Polyphemus moth. Those bushy antennae you see are an indication that this moth also happened to be male.

There are a number of threats to this beautiful species, but at least they have a variety of host plants, as well as those spectacular and “scary” eye spots, to give them a better chance at making it. The tiny little upper spots on the forewings are actually transparent. We checked.

Polyphemus moths have an average wing span of about 6 inches. As adults, they also have reduced mouth parts, meaning that they can’t eat, so they have one job to focus on: reproduction. The feathery antennae of the males are used to detect the scent of unmated females. Whether the antennae also make the male moths look sexy to females, I cannot attest. But for this female, I think they look pretty cool. Not getting to eat means something else — the moths have a short lifespan of less than a week.

As it had trouble flying, It seemed to me that this little (big) moth was on its last wing, so to speak, so I gently kept it protected and decided to bring it home with us. As it turns out, the moth wasn’t as frail as we thought.

Perhaps because it was darker in the car, the moth came to life once we got moving on the road. By the time we were on the highway, it was fluttering all about, making for quite an interesting drive home. At one point, the Polyphemus moth decorated my husband as a bowtie.

For its own safety, we didn’t want to release the moth until we actually arrived home to our wooded habitat, but in the meantime, it kept us busy in the car, as we had to make sure it stayed safe there, too.

For quite a bit of the drive, the moth seemed particularly fond of my husband (who was under strict orders not to react to the tickling sensation, nor to panic and cause a wreck). My husband replied, “Finally, there’s an animal who’s not afraid of me!” How my husband manages to seem fearsome in our happy zoo is beyond me, but our skittish cat Cricket in particular still gives him the wary eye. Not many men can boast that they’ve had a Polyphemus moth rest on their Adam’s Apple, but my husband can. Let me just add that driving in a car with a fluttering giant silk moth is perhaps a “Don’t Try This ~~at Home~~ in Your Car” scenario.

Upon our return home, I carefully gathered up the Polyphemus moth, bid it a fond farewell and good luck, and opened my hands to the sky. The moth flew up to the ash tree above, where it rested for much of the afternoon. What an adventure we all had!

A Great Start to Spring

Posted on March 2, 2012 by Meredith

Win one for the environment. Last night (technically 2am this morning), Austin City Council voted unanimously to ban single-use shopping bags at grocery stores. Bring your reusable bags when you come visit our fantastic city! The ban officially takes effect in March 2013. Austin is currently the largest city in Texas to ban single-use bags — way to go, Austin!

Even though it’s not technically spring yet, it has felt like it almost all winter. These warmer temperatures have been rather confusing to wildlife, plants, and gardeners. But spring is definitely arriving now. This past week, a flock of some 50 American Robins landed all across our property. They were too spread out to get a big group picture, but I did manage to catch a trio in the front.

Perhaps they were early birds looking for worms — it was in fact an early morning when we saw them, and we do in fact have a lot of earthworms. Who knows?

But perhaps the most noticeable spring sign in Austin is the mass blooming of our native Texas Mountain Laurels (Sophora secundiflora) all across the city. I’ve never seen so many blooming at once. They line and adorn highways, city properties, neighborhood entrances, gardens, parks, parking lots — they are simply everywhere.

Texas Mountain Laurels are one of our early bloomers, and as such pollinators adore them. They are incredibly fragrant. A brief whiff of a single bloom can smell like Grape Koolaid to some, but in mass they are almost sickeningly sweet, like grape-flavored medicine. This is why you’ll find two opposing reactions by people — some people love the scent, while others are actually nauseated by it. Most fascinating! I personally like it, but I tend to be that way about any unique characteristic of a plant. Remember, I like thorns, too (but of course, the Mountain Laurel doesn’t have any — instead, it sports poisonous seeds and nauseatingly sweet fragrance — awesome!).

The Mountain Laurel above was still freshly wet from a recent rain when I snapped the shot at Austin Nature & Science Center.

Even my little 3-foot tall Mountain Laurel joined in the purple celebration — it has 3 blooms!

While I was out there admiring our happy little bloomer, I noticed this black-and-white Lepidopteran. ~~I didn’t have time to ID it, however, but I’m hoping to have a chance, you know, some day.~~ It’s a Mournful Thyris, Pseudothyris sepulchralis. I am in great debt to Alan of It’s Not Work, It’s Gardening! for IDing this little moth for me! FYI, caterpillar host plants for the Mournful Thyris include Clematis and grapes. Apparently good resting spots for the adult moth include Texas Mountain Laurel.

Gosh, spring is a busy time of year. Have a happy purple day!