If You Plant Them, They Will Come

Posted on June 23, 2022 by Tina

Them in the equation are native plants, they, the pollinators. Pollinators and native plants share a long evolutionary history, having developed mutually beneficial symbiotic relationships: plants rely on pollinators for procreation and genetic diversity; pollinators rely on plants for sustenance and protection. Additionally, both plants and pollinators are gorgeous, admirably intricate and visually appealing, especially when working together, creating biodiversity magic.

Most people casually acquainted with the idea of pollination view bees and butterflies as front and center in the pollination world. But a huge variety of other insects also pollinate and they are important contributors to the health of plants in particular, and of ecosystems in general. For example, flies are key pollinators in most environments. In spring, I spied this Long-bodied syrphid fly, Fazia micrura, nectared on a cluster of spring blooms of Roughleaf Dogwood, Cornus drummondii. No doubt, the fly carried some pollen to other dogwood trees, and to plants beyond.

Wasps comprise a huge group of insects and are often maligned because they sting. But like this Euodynerus megaera on Yarrow, Achillea millefolium, they are common flower visitors and important pollinators.

On a different cluster of Yarrow florets nectars a different kind of wasp, a Mexican Honey wasp, Brachygastra mellifica.

While most blooming plants will attract some pollinators, native plants are particularly important sources of food for variety of pollinators. This Henry Duelberg Sage, Salvia farinacea ‘Henry Duelberg’, hosts a native Horsefly-like Carpenter bee, Xylocopa tabaniformis.

And here, a related native bee, a Southern Carpenter bee, Xylocopa micans, zooms in for a sip on the same plant, though a different flower stalk.

Both of these bees are native, or wild bees. There are about 20,000 native bee species in the world, about 350 of those are here in Texas. Most are solitary, unlike the better known honeybee. They come in an array of colors and sizes. Some, like the two carpenter bees above and most bumble bees, are large; many are tiny, like this Ceratina bee (probably?) who is crawling along the pollen offerings on the diminutive bloom of White Avens, Geum canadense.

The White Avens flower is about one-half inch in diameter. The bee is…itty bitty.

Like bees, butterflies partner with flowers and add beauty, movement, and life to gardens and natural areas. This Little Yellow, Pyrisitia lisa, pairs nicely with its pink provider, the open bloom of a Rock Rose, Pavonia lasiopetala.

For most of us, it’s the big, bodacious butterflies that we notice in a garden. And why not? They’re stunning as they waft through the garden, a pleasure to observe! I was pleased to capture the underside of this Pipevine Swallowtail, Battus philenor, as it sipped from a Turk’s Cap, Malvaviscus arboreus var. drummondii.

Wings-up is another Pipevine enjoying the bounty of an American Basket-flower, Centaurea americana. Non-native sunflowers look on with envy, though they have plenty of visitors of their own.

One of the reasons that Pipevine Swallowtails regularly visit my garden is that I grow a host plant called Dutchman’s Pipe, Aristolochia fimbriata. Though I extol the virtues of native plants and choose them when I can, the Aristolochia fimbriata is not a native-to-Texas plant. Unfortunately, the native Aristolochia in Texas aren’t easily available commercially, so a non-native is a good substitute. This pretty ground cover of green leaves decorated with spidery white veins loves shade and spreads nicely–that is until the Pipevine caterpillars munch it to oblivion. That said, after the caterpillars lay waste to the plant, it pops back vigorously, rapidly unfolding its foliage for the next generation of hungry, hungry caterpillars.

The sweet blue flowers belong to a different ground-cover, Leadwort Plumbago, *Ceratostigma plumbaginoides*. Dutchman’s Pipe blooms, but the flowers are often hidden under leaves.

In addition to providing both nectar and host plants for butterflies, it’s good to have limb and branch piles in the garden for insects, including many native bees, to create nests for their young. It’s important to leave the leaves in your garden after autumn’s drop, so that over-wintering insects–and there are many–have a safe haven in cold, wet weather conditions. Allowing some bare soil is important for ground nesters, as there’s so much land dressed with impervious cover or sterile, mono-culture turf. Providing water is always a must and pesticides should never be used in a pollinator garden. Insects aren’t pests, but instead are vital components to a healthy, vibrant ecosystem and that’s what a garden should aspire to.

Some plants seem to attract every pollinator around. Purple Coneflower, Echinacea purpurea, is one of the flowers that all kinds of pollinators flock to, like this Tiger Swallowtail, Papilio glaucus,

…and this American Lady, Vanessa virginiensis.

The big butterflies are easy to spot, hard to miss, and lovely to behold, but there are scads of little butterflies that also contribute to the pollination party. This Green Skipper, Hesperia viridis, matches its small flower’s size. The skippers are often tricky to identify, as there are many with similar coloring and markings, and they’re typically fast fliers. They’re fun to watch, challenging to identify, and important in the fabric of the ecosystem.

Some pollinators are specifically aligned with certain plants, much like some animals only eat certain plants. When my Barbados Cherry, Malpighia glabra, blooms its ruffly pink flowers, several individuals of this fuzzy golden and black bee arrive, buzzing all over the shrub. I don’t know what the bee is, I’ve never definitively identified it. I’m now thinking that it may be a Foothill Carpenter bee, Xylocopa tabaniflormis ssp. orpifex–but I’m far from certain that’s correct. It could also be some kind of bumble bee, or perhaps, a long horned bee. I’ve never seen this species of bee at any other time or on any other plant except for the Barbados Cherry. Could these two organisms–plant and insect–exist in a mutually exclusive relationship? I don’t know the answer to that, but will continue to observe and with some additional reading, learn more.

I love native plants and I always encourage their use in the garden. But sometimes, they aren’t so readily available and gardeners must rely on non-natives for their pollinator party needs. I also love hardy non-natives, especially when they provide for wildlife and aren’t invasive. In my own garden, two summer favorites are annual sunflowers, common in urban settings thanks to commercial black-oiled sunflower seeds,

…and the perennial, blooming shrub, Mexican Honeysuckle, Justicia spicigera.

As long as flowers provide, Monarch butterflies partake!

This week is Pollinator Week celebrating the importance of pollinators in our environment. It’s not hard to encourage pollinators to live in your garden. Decide on a patch (or more!) in which to remove turf, research plants which grow well where you live–and get planting! Always add some host plants for butterfly larvae, some wood piles for other insects, some bare soil for the ground nesters, and water for everyone; don’t use pesticides and you’ll be in pollinator business. Installing a pollinator garden is less work than toiling over high-maintenance turf and it’s more interesting, full-of-life and lovely. You’ll be amazed at who will show up to be part of the garden experience. Bees, butterflies, bugs, birds–they all have a part in a pollinator garden.

A garden isn’t a garden without the wings of life that give it purpose.

Honeybee on Plateau Goldeneye, *Viguiera dentata*

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.

Autumn Natives

Posted on October 23, 2020 by Tina

I live in a region with nearly year-round gardening. Summer is hot–that’s a given–and winter is chilly, punctuated by hard freezes–sometimes rainy, sometimes dry. Spring and autumn are delightful, even when spring ends earlier than I’d like and autumn arrives way after it’s due. These pleasant months are the best times to be outdoors and in the garden; I’d suspect that many Texas native plants agree.

Perennials in the Asteraceae family are common, but well-worth having. These cheerful Fall aster, Symphyotrichum oblongifolium, bloom for 2-3 weeks and I always look forward to their lavender display.

I like Fall aster even when it doesn’t bloom, but how can you not grin when you see these charmers?

This combination of blooming perennials and shrubs provides interest for the gardener and food and cover for birds and insects. The background shrub is Barbados cherry, Malpighia glabra. Its subtle pink blooms are barely visible in the photo, outshined by its more colorful companion blooms. White blooms atop the leggy stalks of Frostweed, Verbesina virginica and the red hibiscus-like flowers of Turk’s cap, Malvaviscus arboreous are worthy competitors for attention to the lemony-yellow daisies of Plateau goldeneye, Viguiera dentata.

More Goldeneye to brighten your day.

It’s not just flowers that add to autumn’s beauty, but native grasses are at their peak during this time. My garden is a shady one and I only have a few spots of truly full sun and therefore, limited room for the stunning native grasses that grow well here in Central Texas. Native grasses need the blast of the Texas sun to shine! But this Big muhly, Muhlenbergia lindheimeri, sits in one of those sunny places. It’s a gorgeous plant–even in winter–but in autumn, its fluffy panicles sway gracefully in the breezes.

The muhly is photobombed by a couple of branches of native Turk’s cap (left and front). The pinks in the background belong to the non-native Coral vine.

Be still my beating heart, I love this plant. I’m now growing several in my front garden (the back is too shady to host these sun lovers). This is the oldest of the bunch and I think by next year, the youngsters will be just as impressive.

A different specimen from the one above.

Another Goldeneye/Frostweed vignette benefits from the addition of Inland sea oats, Chasmanthium latifolium.

Inland sea oats are excellent grassy perennials for shade. The “oats” are chartreuse in spring, deepening their green during summer, turning tan in autumn. I think that the group in the above photo turns toasty earlier because it receives more sun. This group below, growing in my back garden and in significantly more shade, still retains some of its green highlights; eventually, they’ll all turn to a warm tawny until pruning, just before spring.

Texas craglily, Echeandia texensis, is a less common garden perennial than the others I’ve profiled, though available in some local nurseries. I purchased mine from Barton Springs Nursey years ago and mine have spread somewhat by seed, but I’ve also separated the fleshy roots into new individual plants.

The lovely flowers, alternately posed on tall bloom spikes, are small, orange-yellow and lily-like. Texas craglily is a member of the Liliaceae family.

The base of the plant is grassy, with fleshy foliage and despite its delicate appearance, a tough and drought-tolerant perennial. From its grassy base which appears in late spring and provides lush green throughout summer, the plant sends up bloom stalks in September, blooming until November. An elegant plant, the bloom stalks move with the wind, flowers and seed pods in almost constant motion.

This week marks Texas Native Plant Week, a celebration of the native plants of our regions. Texas is a big place with a wide range of topography and weather patterns, but there’s something for every garden, plants that will please every gardener. Native plants, Texan or otherwise, are must-haves for any garden. They’re easy to grow, they belong where they grow, and they nurture endemic wildlife. In the bigger picture, most regions enjoy a wide palette of gorgeous and valuable native plants: trees, shrubs, perennials and annuals, grasses and succulents. No matter where you garden and call home, if you haven’t tried growing natives, give it a whirl! You’ll be amazed at their beauty and ease.