Blue Eyes Smilin’

Each January, a sprig of “grass” emerges from a crack in my limestone patio. I look forward to its appearance, as I know that a sprinkling of cheery little blue blooms will decorate the diminutive stalks during March and April. I don’t know where this Blue-eyed Grass, Sisyrinchium angustifolium, came from and it’s never reproduced anywhere else in my garden. I have seen clusters of them scattered in the turf at the park adjacent to the local elementary school, but I don’t know of any closer to my garden.

Not actually a grass, this sweet patio gift is a member of the iris family. Each year, I promise that I’ll look for, and collect, seeds; each year I forget. This year is no exception on the promise end of things, but I have made a note of watching it carefully as the blooms fade, in hopes of gathering seeds to sow in fall somewhere else in my garden.

Such dainty, dancy things, they wave gently with spring breezes, happily blooming where there aren’t any other blooms to compete and over-shadow.

Look at that cute face!

Next year, seeds and seed-gathering willing, they’ll grace an additional area of the garden.

As I thought about the title of this post, “Blue Eyes Smilin’ ” popped into my head, obviously a riff on the song that made Willie famous, Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain, though it was written by Fred Rose. That song has been in my head all day, so I’m sharing.

Almost Lunch

On a sunny morning last week I was in the garden catching shots of pollinators doing their pollination thing. I spied a Sphinx moth (maybe the Banded, Eumorpha fasciatus) working the rich pink, tubular flowers of my Hill Country Penstemons. Sphinx moths are extremely quick flyers and before I could take a photo of the moth at the penstemons, it zoomed, blurred wings in action, to a red blooming Autumn Sage, Salvia greggii. I snapped a couple of shots and then heard a flump.

I peeked around my camera and at my feet a Blue Jay had landed, wings akimbo, flopping on the ground. At that point, the moth flew off with lightening speed, the jay following in blue-streaked pursuit. Clearly, the jay thought it had a chance at a meal and winged in for the snatch. This all took place in a matter of seconds.

I don’t know if the jay actually had claw or beak on the moth at any point, but the moth escaped, bolted upwards and outwards, zig-zagging, first left, then right, and then headed off over the street and away from danger. The Blue Jay veered left to the neighbor’s tree and squawked its disappointment (and maybe embarrassment?) at missing a meal.

There’s never a dull moment in the garden!

Texas Dandy

In February, I posted about the non-native dandelion that is common in gardens and pathways pretty much everywhere. Though most people consider it a weed, I have no argument with that little flower, since it’s an early bloomer for pollinators.

Fast forward about six weeks with spring in full swing, and the native dandelion, Texas Dandelion, Pyrrhopappus pauciflorus, has made itself comfortable in my garden. Here it is, upfront and on stage, Four-nerve Daisy, Tetraneuris scaposa, waving in the background.

This little aster is a paler shade of yellow, more butter-yellow, than many other native yellow asters. The lower portion of its anthers are colored a deep maroon, which contrasts nicely with the soft yellow.

The flowers open in the mornings, though I’ve noticed that they are sleepy heads and it’s well after sunrise before they greet the day. The blooms close by mid-afternoon.

Like other flowers in the Asteraceae family, the seed heads are snowy white puff balls, just waiting for that perfect breeze to carry them off to land in another home.

In my garden, I haven’t seen any of the typical bee/butterfly/other pollinators nosing around the blooms. Instead, there’s often a cucumber beetle in the center, presumably doing the business of pollinating.

This individual planted itself just outside the bounds of the garden, which is typical; these usually grow in the pathways of my garden.

It’s a complementary plant alongside the planned garden, though it’s not the only one that invited itself to join the community.

The wide-leafed plant situated just behind and to the right of the Texas Dandelion is a volunteer American Basket Flower, which I wrote about last year. And next to that is a Coast Germander, Teucrium cubense, that appeared last year as well, uninvited, but not necessarily unwelcome. Not an aster, but instead in the mint, or Lamiaceae family, the dainty white flowers bloom non-stop and the foliage was evergreen all winter.

I think all three unplanned additions are dandy!