The Blooms of August

I don’t want to bore, but it’s hot here, I’ve complained about the heat in earlier posts,  and I want to be done with it.  That said, the heat isn’t done with me or the garden, so I’ll stop whining and get on with raptures about the awesome, heat-loving blooms of August.

The Lemon Rose mallow, Hibiscus calyphyllus, is a perennial which grows and blooms in a fairly shady area of my garden.  There aren’t blasts of blooms each day, but always one or two lovelies brightening the garden with butter yellow petals paired with a rich maroon center.

 

Hands-down, the best summer bloomer I grow is the Texas native Turk’s Cap, Malvaviscus arboreus var. drummondii.  A perennial shrub which grows in any condition, it’s a star in my garden. Drought tolerant, it’s also an excellent wildlife plant.  The petite hibiscus-like flowers are brilliant red and never open, but that doesn’t deter the pollinators.

A Southern Carpenter bee nectar stealing from a Turk’s cap bloom.

Though “stealing” nectar, the bee is pollinating. Check out the pollen grains on its bottom and wings. The pollen grains will be transferred to other flowers as the bee moves on to other flowers.

The sprinkling of red is a cheery greeting each sultry morning.

 

Another August-happy mallow is the Althea, or Rose of SharonHibiscus syriacus.  Some (like mine) are simple in petal formation, others are double-petaled and ruffly.  I can’t remember what cultivar I have and I’m hopeless about keeping plant tags, especially with impulse purchases–which this was.  Regardless, the Althea has proven  a nice late summer flowering shrub.

Also, my honeybees are big fans!

I grew up in Corpus Christi, Texas along the Gulf of Mexico.  My mother grew a number of these lovely shrubs–pinks, whites, lavenders– in her garden and I always wanted one of my own.  The Althea is typically a great bloomer after rains, awash in sweet lavender goodness.  There hasn’t been a drop of rain since early July and I water sparingly, but the lavender ladies are open everyday for business.

 

August heralds the purples in my garden:  the turning from green to purple of the fruits of the American beautyberry and the blooming of native Drummond’s Wild Petunia, Ruellia drummondiana.

I became enamored with this perennial when I managed a garden where it grew prominently in shady areas.  I left for vacation one late July-August during the typically hottest and driest time of the year and just before I left, the automatic sprinkler system stopped working and wasn’t repaired until after I returned two weeks later. Needless to say the garden was dry with wilted, unhappy plants all around–except for the ruellia.  Not only were the ruellia fresh as daisies, but blooming their ruellia hearts out.

That’s a plant I want!

I collected some seeds and while it took a few years before I enjoyed my own wild petunia fest, they’re now a true staple in my increasingly shady garden.

 

Another excellent shade-to-part-shade bloomer which scoffs at heat and drought is the Mexican HoneysuckleJusticia spicigera.

Mexican Honeysuckle is a funny plant in that it doesn’t have particular bloom period.  I’ve seen it bloom in deep winter, early spring, late fall, and at the height of summer–it seems to do what it wants, when it wants. You have to admire a plant that blooms on its own schedule.

 

I grow Firecracker plantRusselia equisetiformis, primarily for its ferny foliage, but when the tubular crimson flowers appear, it’s a treat.  Tiny native bees also love the flowers, but are hard to catch with my camera.

                                                        

Early morning August sunshine highlights unopened firecracker blooms.

 

This is the last hurrah for the Big Red Sage, Salvia penstemonoides.  It’s a beautiful summer bloomer, but is nearing its seasonal show for the year.  I’ll leave the bloom stalks for a little longer, just in case a bird might fancy a seed snack.  I look forward to their magenta magic next summer.

 

The Big Red sage rocks a deep, dramatic color, but the blooms of  Branched foldwingDicliptera brachiata couldn’t be more different.  I have no idea where this plant came from, I’m assuming a nice bird deposited a seed or two in my garden at some point.  It took a while to identify the plant when I first noticed it growing and blooming several years ago.  I look forward to seeing the delicate little flowers each August and September.

The flowers are the opposite of ostentatious.  In fact, I have to search for the little blooms as they’re hidden among the foliage.

 

Back to the bright are the bougainvillea that I grow in containers.  I’d prefer to keep them on the patio overlooking my back garden, but shade is the name of the game there, so along the driveway they sit, soaking in sunshine and calling attention to themselves.

 

This particular bougainvillea grows in an upright form, rather than with more typical arching branches.

My mother-in-law gave me this bougainvillea 20-some years ago and I’ve kept it going since.  I root prune every few years in early spring when I remove the bougainvillea from its garage winter home.

Since it’s been so hot, I’ll finish with some cool white.  The two Mexican Orchid treesBauhina mexicana  that I grow have provided spidery beauties all summer with no breaks in blooming.

The little trees are really rangy shrubs and are drought and shade tolerant.  Large butterflies and a variety of bees are constants at the blooms.  This particular tree’s flowers are white with a subtle hint of pink, whereas its mother plant, my other orchid tree, produces pure white flowers.

August is a tough month here in Texas, but there are blooms which make the late summer heat bearable.  Please check out The Blooming Garden for profiles of monthly blooms and remember fellow Texans–autumn is just around the corner.

Too Hot, Too Cool

Truthfully, I haven’t had the courage to follow too closely, but here in Austin, we’re at about 30 days of over 100º F for this summer, with most of those days occurring in August.  I’m ready to pull the plug on the August oven, but I’m having trouble finding the cord.

The garden is holding up well, even with afternoon heat which delivers a tired, wilted look–for both garden and gardener.   August in Texas is always hot, but thankfully it also ushers in the cool purpling of the American beautyberry, Callicarpa americana.

The diminutive pink beautyberry blooms of June are long gone and the replacement purple fruits will remain until birds eat or cold withers–which ever happens first.

Autumn is coming–eventually.  The cool of the purple must suffice and for now, that’s enough.

Joining today with Anna and her Wednesday Vignette.   Check out her beautiful Flutter and Hum for musings of various sorts.

Morning Glory

The Carolina Wrens are at it again.

The flower that the wren is singing to is a Purple Bindweed.

Singing loudly, this little one serenaded its companion, the lavender flower of a Morning glory vine.   While I could only manage one clear shot of this particular adult on the morning of the glorious concert, it was a family of four–both parents and two fledgling wrens–who were chirping and feeding in the area along a fence covered in vines.

Carolina wrens are delightful native songbirds living and breeding throughout a wide swath of the eastern and southeastern parts of the U.S.  I suspect that the wren couple currently visiting my garden are on their second brood for this year, as there were some fledglings in late spring (May) and now, two new little wrens accompany their cheery parents on their neighborhood rounds.  Wrens have never nested in my garden, but they nest nearby and visit daily.  Wrens are well-known for building nests in odd spots:  little eggs laid in hats left abandoned, then transformed into bird nurseries;  hungry chicks with mouths wide open in empty pockets of blue jeans or work shirts left hung on clotheslines; tiny birds peeping hungrily from typically quiet mailboxes, and wren babies settled in nesting material atop patio ceiling fans are examples of the quirky nesting choices made by wrens.

Busy birds who don’t stay still for long, wrens eat insects and spiders, as well as the occasional lizard and small snake.  In winter, my wrens love the commercial suet that I hang in the garden.  They hunt for food in brushy, shrubby habitats of both urban and rural habitats where they’re well-hidden by foliage. As wrens forage low to the ground, I spot them only because the limbs of shrubs and perennials wave mysteriously and when I investigate, a Carolina wren–or two–dash up and away from the foliage cover and insect buffet.

This is an ideal environment for wrens; full of native plants, safe in cover, with available water.

This is an ideal environment for wrens because it’s full of native plants (paired with non-natives, too) which provide cover and food,  along with available water.

 

Wrens climb trees, snipping insects and bark lice as they go; when they forage on the ground, they sweep leaf  detritus in their search for munchable meals.  Their pointed, slightly curved beaks are ideal for grabbing insects, whether hunting on shrubs, in trees, or on the ground.

Like other wildlife, wrens benefit from brush piles because the piles are rich with diverse insect populations and provide cover for the wrens as they feed.  The vines on my back fence act similarly by providing habitat for abundant insect life and leafy protection from predators as the wrens hop from one area to another in the never ending search for their meals.

Carolina wrens are monogamous for each season and defend their territory year-round, which means that they sing all the time and I’m privileged to enjoy their beautiful songs and calls.  Carolina wrens are comfortable in my garden; we–birds and gardener–are partners sharing a healthy habitat.