It’s Grown In

Posted on July 20, 2022 by Tina

Last autumn we removed an old, freeze-damaged Arizona Ash from our front garden. Within a few hours, the west-facing garden morphed from mostly shade to full sun. With no tree canopy protecting the garden, it now faces all day, blistering Texas summer sun and that’s a thing that demands respect as well as tough-as-nails plants. I recognized early on that some established plants would welcome the challenge, but others would need immediate removal, and a few would require observation throughout the growing season to assess their viability in the changed conditions.

This is a view of my front garden in early December from the corner where the driveway and street intersect, using the zoom feature to capture the innards of the garden where the yellow chairs sit.

All that remains of the poor tree is a stump, now happily hosting a large potted bougainvillea, thriving in the searing summer sun.

A front-on photo in December demonstrates a completely new landscape in the center part of the garden. I transplanted appropriate plants from other parts of my garden, as well as newly purchased shrubs, perennials, and some small trees to this open garden. The southeast quadrant of the garden (behind the orange pot, along the right side of the photo) and the northwest quadrant (outside of this photo, to the left) are the two sections of establish plants that I left in place.

This shot was taken in June, roughly at the same angle. Stuff grew in! Who knew that would happen? Full disclosure: the following photos were taken in late May and June. (I’ve been meaning to write this post for a while.)

The tall 5-7 foot spikes in the background, right side of the photo, are American Basket flowers, Centaurea americana, and in the middle of the garden, you can see the large leaves of a couple of common sunflowers, which have grown to 6-8 feet. Both of these annuals have bloomed since late May, providing for pollinators, and now, as they complete their blooming cycle, for birds who are feasting on seeds. The tall plants have also allowed privacy for the seating area of the garden. I have planted several small trees and large shrubs for the long-term, but it will be a few years before they will be large enough to act as privacy screens.

I left bits and bobs of Common Yarrow, Achillea millefolium, and they’ve proved pretty and hardy, rocking their rich green foliage and fresh, creamy flowers.

To this bright landscape, I added Globe Mallow, Sphaeralcea ambigua, its grey foliage and creamsicle-orange blooms a fetching combination, several pink-to-red flowering evergreen Autumn Sage, Salvia greggii shrubs, and silvery Wooly Butterfly bush, Buddleja marrubiifolia. These new plants have flourished in the heat and with the abundant sunshine. Graceful Mexican Feathergrass, Nassella tenuissima (bottom right in photo), Gulf Muhly, Muhlenbergia capillaris, and rusty Little Bluestem, Schizachyrium scoparium, are new native grass additions. All are well-adapted to harsh conditions.

Red Yucca, Hesperaloe parviflora, adds lofty salmon flowers and keeps the little Red Oak tree company.

In June and July the sunflowers and basket flowers have towered over the garden. Pollinators are busy from sunrise to sunset: bees buzzing, butterflies flitting, and hummingbirds chasing one another, vying for dominance over disputed territory. Pretty pink- blossomed Rock Rose, Pavonia lasiopetala and the crimson blooms of Big Red sage, Salvia pentstemonoides, rest below the taller plants at the corner of the garden.

As this very hot summer drags on, some plants are showing heat damage. At the corner of the garden grows a ground-cover, Blue Mistflower, Conoclinium coelestinum. It has struggled with the heat and morning-to-evening sun, plus it’s situated at the intersect of the street and driveway, enduring reflective heat from the asphalt and cement.

Crispy critter! Last summer, which was a more ‘normal’ summer, the ground-cover grew well, lush and green, blooming beautifully in autumn. But this summer has been particularly hot; Austin just recorded its hottest 7 day streak ever and we’re breaking heat records regularly. The mistflower isn’t up to that kind of grilling. There’s also no water at this corner; the soaker hose is situated about three feet away. So what to plant there? I’ll probably go with one of the smaller native grasses or something like a Blackfoot Daisy, Melanpodium leucanthum or a small native yucca–all sun and heat lovers needing minimal water and care.

The sunflowers and basket flowers are colorful protectors of the center part of the garden, which I enjoy in the early mornings and late evenings. Their growth is a little wild and rangy, but I like that and more importantly, wildlife is pleased with the choice of meals.

Native perennials, like cheery Engelmann’s Daisy, Engelmannia peristenia, and the blue-blooming Henry Duelberg sage, Salvia farinacea, are rock stars, happy during long weeks of heat, though even they are growing weary with the oven-like temperatures.

Purple Coneflower, Echinacea purpurea, always puts on a good show, though the blooms are mostly done and seeds are spent; I’m currently pruning them to the ground, their rosette set to weather the remainder of summer. Coneflowers generally return in autumn with rain and cooler temperatures, not as tall or prolifically, but flowering nonetheless. While that’s something to look forward to, temperate weather seems almost an impossible dream right now.

While I’m pleased with most of my established and new plants, I’ll need to remove many irises and all of the day-lilies and crinum lilies. The full-day summer sun is too much for these bulbs. I’ve also grown a couple of shade-loving spring ephemerals and they’re now frying in this sunny, hot garden. If they survive until fall, I’ll need to move them elsewhere.

As I observe the good, the meh, and the ugly of this new garden, I realize that changes are required and I look forward to the time when I can tweak the problem areas. It’s way too hot to contemplate the particulars of that work for now, so I’ll have to be content with mulling, fretting, and flip-flopping about what I want to plant.

A garden is ever-changing, never completed, and full of challenges .

Gardening on the Land

Posted on January 23, 2022 by Tina

Last August, a native plants and wildlife gardening buddy, Deb, sent to me a link to a New York Times article which I’d somehow missed in my own subscription. Written by author and podcaster, Margaret Roach, the article profiles landscape architect Darrel Morrison’s gardening philosophy, developed throughout his remarkable career. Roach also highlights Morrison’s knitting of ecological diversity with traditional design elements, as well as a thorough description of his “four principles” of landscape design.

The first principle involves planting for “natural diversity” to lessen water and chemical use in the garden and to mitigate climate change. Morrison suggests that a variety of plants native to a region offers the best outcome to achieve a diverse garden. Avoiding the use of invasive non-native plants is paramount to achieve this goal.

Morrison’s second principle promotes an “experientially rich” garden, one with active pollinators and other wildlife. Additionally, gardening with plants of differing structures and growth habits adds life and movement, enriching the garden community.

The third principle is that a garden should reflect where it is. My garden in Austin, Texas should look, feel, and smell different than one situated in Eugene, Oregon or Madison, Wisconsin. A garden should be of its geographic place.

Morrison’s final principle is that of change. A garden should be “dynamic,” changing with time and seasons, which is opposite to the typical American outdoor space of expanse of green turf and pruned shrubs which looks the same year-round. I like Morrison’s quote on this particular point: “Painting is two-dimensional; architecture and sculpture, three-dimensional,” he said. “But landscapes are four-dimensional, with time being the fourth dimension.” Seasonal change, and planning for it, is important.

March/April blooming Gulf Coast Penstemon, *Penstemon tenuis*.

Gulf Coast Penstemon in late July-August: dried seed heads that have opened and spread seeds; leaf stalks turned burgundy with summer’s heat and drought. At the base, evergreen rosettes keep the plants’ place in the garden.

In my garden, I’ve mostly followed these principles, though I’ve never assigned names to them. While I am a native plant enthusiast and grow quite a few, I’m not a purist. Most of my non-native choices are Mexican, as these are all excellent pollinator plants and hardy in Central Texas. Other non-natives provide for structural and/or evergreen appeal. Some non-natives have an emotional connection, as they originally came from my parents’ garden or as pass-along plants from friends.

Early on in this garden adventure, I developed some guiding principles of my own. I knew that I wanted a garden of mostly native plants, chosen for their beauty, resilience, and variety. I also wanted plants that require little supplemental irrigation. In short order, I recognized that planting natives meant that a whole new world of wildlife soon followed. In brief: if you plant them, they will come. My garden is alive with movement and life–in the air that surrounds and on the ground that supports.

For me, design elements are least important, though I recognize that it’s a more attractive garden if there is a conscious blend of evergreen and deciduous, a deliberate pairing of soft form with structure, and glorious pops of color throughout the year, changing with light, time, and temperature. Whimsical or elegant, non-plant items also enhance a garden and add a human touch. Pathways allow experience of the garden.

My garden is different today than it was five years ago, ten years ago, twenty years ago. The back garden was once full-sun, but oaks grew it to mostly shade. With recent freezer-burned thinning of the trees’ foliage, it now straddles those two extremes. The front garden was shady; going forward, the Texas sun will shine on it for years to come, until a small oak tree grows up and eventually casts its form over the garden.

Garden creation requires experimentation and mistakes are part of that process. Garden creation also requires patience and observation.

At the conclusion of the linked article about Darrell Morrison, the author recounts a story about how he began his work on the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center in Austin:

For Mr. Morrison, ever the willing pupil, every place has something we can learn from, especially the natural areas.

In 1992, when he was engaged by the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center, nine miles from downtown Austin, he borrowed a sleeping bag and tent, and spent the first night camped out on the 42-acre site.

“It’s a good thing to do: to see the sun go down, smell the smells of the junipers, hear the morning birdsong,” he said. “I think you do know the place better for it.”

Apparently, that got the former first lady’s attention. Years later, Mrs. Johnson was receiving guests at a reception. She had suffered a stroke and her eyesight was diminished, so when Mr. Morrison reached the head of the line, he reintroduced himself: “You may remember me, Mrs. Johnson. I’m Darrel Morrison.”

“Of course, I remember you, Darrel,” she replied. “I tell all my friends how you slept on the land.”

I garden in a moderately sized urban lot in a large city. While I’ve lived here a long time, I’ve never slept on my land, aside from some lazy afternoon snoozes in the swing chairs. But I have watched this space. I’ve observed the sun and shade, seen sunrises and sets, and felt the breezes. I’ve noticed the insects and birds, and lived with plants from seed to compost. The garden and I have experienced triple digit temperatures, snow and ice, and floods and drought.

I’ve gardened on the land.

Garden Art

Posted on October 21, 2020 by Tina

As it’s Texas Native Plants Week, I thought I’d contribute a photo which profiles a few of the lovely native plants in my garden, as well as a seasonal piece of garden art which has highlighted the front garden this fall.

Clockwise, starting from the bottom left of the photo: the winter rosettes of Big red sage, Salvia pentstemonoides and moving upwards, the pink blooming shrubs, Rock rose, Pavonia lasiopetala. Behind those, peeks out white blooming Tropical sage, Salvia coccinea paired with some spikey foliage of a Red yucca, Hesperaloe parviflora, plus three, second year Big muhly grasses, Muhlenbergia lindheimeri. The two yellow spots of sunshine in the background come in the form of Plateau goldeneye, Viguiera dentata and their frothy, cloud-like companions are Frostweed, Verbesina virginica. Lastly, the diminutive daisies dancing at the bottom right are Blackfoot daisy, Melampodium leucanthum.

For more information on growing native plants in Texas, check out these informative sites, Native Plant Society of Texas and the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center.

Native plants are beautiful, easy to grow, and reflect the place where you live–in Texas, or elsewhere. Native plants evolved alongside their companion critters and so attract and nurture pollinators, birds, and wildlife of all kinds and sorts.

Native plants bring a garden to life.

I’m linking with Anna, in Oregon, for Wednesday Vignette. Additionally, I’d like to give a nod and a link to OregonFlora, a gorgeous website profiling the native plants of Oregon. This site gives information about where native plants of Oregon are found, how to use them in home gardens, and lots of other valuable information for anyone interested in native plants. This site and the work related, is headed by my friend, Dr. Linda Hardison with her Oregon State University team.

Native plants rock!