On a cloudy, not-too-windy morning, I strolled through my front garden, stopping to admire one of my Globe Mallow, Sphaeralcea ambigua, shrubs. Its soft silver-green ruffly foliage, paired with the stunning dreamsicle orange blooms melts my gardener’s heart.
Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed a streak of movement, though it took a minute or so for me to see it again, catching sight once the flash landed. It was a zippy thing, this flash, not lingering on any surface–until it did. The mystery critter proved to be a Green Sweat Bee, Halictidae, and was all in with the luscious mallow blooms.
I was pleased to see this bee at the mallow, though not surprised: this plant attracts a wide variety of pollinators. I now have enough areas of full sun for this gorgeous native North American plant to grow it in several areas of my garden.
Last week a cold front barreled into Austin, dropping temperatures 56 degrees, from 88F to 32F within a 24 hour span. As the wind picked up in late afternoon and I was covering a few of my container plants, I ambled to our lone beehive, Bo-Peep, noticing that the ladies were heading inside, having finished foraging on that warm day, soon to be cold night. I don’t know if they knew that it would be freezing for the next few days, but it would make some sense that they were snuggling in for the duration of the chill.
On the entry board of the hive, this stunning moth was also ambling about; the bees ignored the moth, the moth ignored the bees.
I’ve seen this species of moth before, mostly in flight, but it was always too quick for me to identify. A Grapevine Epimenis, Psychomorpha epimenis, this moth species uses grape plants as its host plant, meaning that it lays eggs on the plants, the larvae eat the plant as they mature to adulthood. In one local source that I found, the author mentions that the adults typically fly in February, laying their eggs on the still dormant vine. My Mustang Grape vine, Vitis mustangensis, has grown along a trellis for a number of years and is courtesy of a passing bird, raccoon–or something. I’ve never noticed caterpillars on the vine, but will keep a keen eye out for them in the next couple of months.
This moth sports red spots on its wings, indicating that it’s a male; females’ spots are orange. I was able to catch a glimpse of the underside of the wing, too. I like the mottled grey/black pattern, black dots on charcoal grey background. What a handsome fella!
During my winter pruning frenzy, I recently pulled some of the grape vine, which I’m now regretting. Though there’s still plenty of vine left and probably eggs on the vine, I wish I’d been aware that the vine is a host plant. Next year, I’ll leave the vine alone until later in spring, giving the larvae time to hatch, eat, grow, and become lovely little moths to grace my garden.
As it became colder, I wondered if the moth found refuge inside the hive, or if the bees would have tolerated a cold weather interloper. Maybe they became sisters and brother during inclement weather. Or did the moth fly off, finding warmth and protection under leaf or branch elsewhere in the garden?
The late winter garden is a palette of muted colors marked with skeletal trees and shrubs. The evergreens, big and small, contribute welcomed dots of green, plus there are others who offer various reds to the garden environment. The tidiness of a pruned, simplified landscape has a certain appeal, but it’s also easier to bird watch in this season of leafless trees and mostly dormant plant life.
Here in Central Texas, bird colors span the rainbow: Blue Jays, Cardinals, Red-winged Black birds, Gold finches and other color-tagged critters. Along with the showy birds, there are birds whose understated plumage blends well with the winter environment, like this winter visitor, a Yellow-rumped Warbler, Setophaga coronata. Her dabs of sunny yellow are surely highlights in her feathers, but most of her colors and markings are warm and subtle, making her sometimes hard to spot in a tree. But at the suet feeder–which she loves–she is more easily observed and admired.
A beakful of suet is a yummy thing!
As she digs into the suet cake, she doesn’t realize that the sticky stuff…sticks—and stays!
A year-round native resident, this Carolina Wren, Thryothorus ludovicianus, echoes winter browns and tans in his patterned plumage. He may not wear loud colors, but he sings with volume and gloriously for his territory and family; wrens are tiny birds with mighty voices. Wren song is the first birdsong I hear each morning throughout the year.
He posed with a strand of freezer-burned tendril of Star Jasmine vine, appearing as a weird appendage attached to the wren.
As he sung at the end of a day, he hopped along the fence, eventually creating distance from the plant part.
Wrens bop right and left in time with their chirps, tails flicked, eyes watchful.
A significantly less pretty bird and certainly a much larger bird than the two above, this Turkey Vulture, Cathartes aura, perched for a while in my SIL’s backyard tree. Turkey Vultures are common in the southern U.S. and throughout Central and South America. They soar majestically with the breeze and low to the ground looking for carrion. Though I see them all the time in the air, I’ve never seen one perched in nearby trees. It sat for a time and I wondered if there was something dead in my SIL’s back garden.
Dead squirrel? Opossum? Rat? Who knows what lunch was for this huge bird.
Turkey Vultures are scavengers and important links in a healthy ecosystem as they clean up the dead. Gentle creatures, they’re only interested in a nice meal of carcass; they are not predators. I was tickled to observe this one so close, but it eventually took flight, spreading impressive wings wide, circling over my garden as it gained altitude, moving along to find its next meal.
I appreciate the quiet of winter. I look forward to pruning last year’s growth and its revelation of the “bones” of the garden. I am witness to both successes and failures in the garden and of plants that I’ve chosen to create it. As with a muted landscape, even in a plainly colored bird, there is still much beauty in a darling face or in the pattern of the plumage, when hues are neutral and soft. That said, after many freezes this year and as March approaches, I’m eager for spring and daily observe signs of its arrival.
My Gardener Says... 