Cheers for Crinums

Posted on August 7, 2026 by Tina

Each July, without fail, at least one of my clump of Crinum lilies blooms. These plants have never been prolific bloomers, though the flowers are some of the loveliest and most fragrant in my gardens. Years ago I dug up a handful of bulbs from my parents’ South Texas garden and mine have flourished, much as theirs did. I’ve since separated my bulbs and established new groups, creating clusters of strappy lily greenery throughout my back garden. I have no firm idea what the plant’s name is, though the flowers look most like an heirloom lily called Grandma’s Pink Lily.

For the most part, these plants serve as foliage accents in my gardens. I grow six individual clusters of Crinums: rich green foliage emerging from bulbs in the ground, arching gracefully, providing a cooling appearance in the hot summer months. Some receive little sunlight, others a bit more, but none grow in full sun as they fry in our July/August heat. I wish they were evergreen, but they give up the growing ghost at winter’s first hard freeze.

This Crinum group spans a small garden wedged between the path to the pond and the limestone patio.

It is also the most consistent bloomer of all my Crinum clusters. Always in July, this group sends up a fleshy stalk or two, which then sprouts five to ten blooms that open over the course of two to three weeks. It’s also the group which receives the most sunlight, at about half a day’s worth during the summer months.

This group has never produced a bloom, but I like the long, green straps near the bird bath along the path to the beehive.

This bunch only receives early morning dappled light, but does occasionally flower.

This Crinum crew has only been in place for about four years. I planted three bulbs as an accent partner to the Turk’s Cap behind them. This year, one stalk grew up and the pinks made their debut on the garden stage!

The large, sweet-pink flowers open in the evenings, remaining open for about two days.

I didn’t see any pollinators as I snapped shots, but in the past I’ve witnessed Horsefly-like Carpenter bees visiting the blooms. As well, I imagine that there are some night-time pollinators who partake from the pinky goodness.

I like the foliage and am content with the fact that these aren’t great flower producers. But when flowers appear, I cheer and relish the summer gift of charming pink and gentle fragrance. Once the flowers are done, the straps remain, green and verdant, until a frost ends their year.

The Crinums’ flowers are done. I remember and appreciate, patiently awaiting another year to enjoy their presence.

When a Tree Falls on a Pathway

Posted on July 31, 2026 by Tina

If a tree falls on a pathway and no on is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

Well, I can’t answer that great philosophical query, as the tree trunk fell when I wasn’t on the pathway to my SIL’ s house. I was caring for her cat and plants while she traveled and I’d walked the pathway at about 3pm, then once again just after 7pm. The pathway between our homes was clear during my mid-afternoon jaunt, but blocked (or mostly so) by early evening. The fall and presumed BOOM occurred sometime late afternoon.

So why was this dead tree, or snag, allowed to stand, as it was so obviously no longer producing leaves? Dead trees are important part of a healthy and vital ecosystem, beyond the obvious foliage-producing life of a tree. According to forest ecologist Dr. Jerry Franklin, of the University of Washington, a living tree “has only partially fulfilled its potential ecological function” and trees’ death and decay are the second important act. Wildlife of all kinds use snags for protection, nesting, and food and for many years and generations. As fallen wood decays over time, it nourishes and enriches soil.

Once a snag falls, it is called a log.

The photo doesn’t clearly show just how deeply the log sank into the soil as it hit the ground, but it’ll require a bit of smoothing out and possibly some additional soil.

The rust color of the trunk is where the large limb/trunk vacated the remains of the old and dead Arizona Ash. There’s plenty of rot in the state of that tree!

A wider view demonstrates where the tree sits, with SIL’s property to the left, ours to the right.

From my garden, the Poverty Weed, Baccharis neglecta, acts as a screen to the remaining two snags.

The Weed planted itself a couple of years ago and I’ve become quite fond of it. This view is from the center of my front garden, looking toward my SIL’s garden.

The downed log is a sizeable chunk of wood!

SIL will hire the arborist that we’ve both worked with to chain saw this log into pieces. Depending upon how big and heavy those slices are, I hope to “snag” a few of them to place in my gardens, though whether I can lift and move them is a whole other issue! I utilize downed limbs and decaying wood in my own gardens to serve as homes for critters and to enrich the soil. I’m certain that SIL will also want to do the same in her garden with the remains of her tree. Our beetles, native bees, birds and other critters will appreciate their new digs and food sources, and the soil where the log pieces will sit will improve as the wood decays.

My SIL and I clearly don’t live in a forested area where trees fall regularly and because we live in an urban environment, we are cognizant of the dangers of falling limbs and trunks to ourselves, our visitors, and our properties. The tree has been monitored by an arborist for several years and all of the upper canopy limbs pruned away as they became potential problems. Only the substantial trunk and remaining three (now two) large partial limbs remain. Resident owls and hawks have used the snag to perch, wood peckers have built nests, and many other birds regularly perch for safety and hunt insects in this snag. An even greater variety of insects, beetles, native bees, and who know what other critters have found safe havens in this mass of wood.

A completed woodpecker hole (and one that was started, but not finished), now lie near the ground, but once provided for Red-bellied Woodpeckers and their chicks.

Other holes were created by insects for their progeny.

I suspect that our wet spring and summer may have hastened internal rot and caused this one side of the trunk with limb to break away. For safety, it may very well be time to remove the entirety of the tree; that will be a decision for my SIL and her arborist. If so, I’ll miss this hulking thing.

For most of my years in this house (since 1985), this tree has been a monument in the neighborhood. It was one of the largest trees and cast its huge umbrella of limbs-n-leaves over most of my front garden for decades. After it succumbed to winter storm Uri five years ago, the bulk of the tree died and limbs were removed. The dead and dying tree–the snag–added structural interest to the gardens. I will miss the busy activity of birds, squirrels, and other critters in and around the snag. When it’s gone, a defining focal point of each of our gardens will be forever altered.

There is a season and a time for every matter under heaven.

Another Pink on Pink

Posted on July 23, 2026 by Tina

I grow plenty of pink flowers in my garden and also see plenty of pollinators in my garden. Sometimes, the pink flora and pink fauna are in sync and share space.

While photographing pollinator action for a post about Pollinator Week 2026, I observed this Southern Pink Moth, Pyrausta inornatalis, resting on an open-petaled pink Rock Rose, Pavonia lasiopetala. The pair of pinks are different in hue, texture, and shape. Well, that post never wrote itself and most of the photos remain dormant in my laptop, but I like this summer’s second observed pink on pink.

The pollinator here was at rest, rather than pollinating. Those that pollinated were not as color-coordinated, but beautiful and valuable, nonetheless.