The Natives are Restless

Native Texas plants are back in action!  March always heralds the time of the natives, and many are eager for the season to begin.  They’re  budding up and blooming out!  It’s true that several of my non-native plants are, or have been, blooming:  irises, poppies, and Mexican honeysuckle.  But this native Texan  appreciates native Texas plants which are lovely and posses the evolutionary chops to weather the weird–no matter the confusion of seasons or the Texas weather patterns.

 

This sweet thing is a hybrid columbine, a cross between the native Aquilegia chrysantha and another native, Aquilegia canadensis.

I grow the two different columbine species in my garden and the plants hybridize with ease, creating a third alternative, with varying color schemes–sometimes more yellow, sometimes more red.  On this particular hybrid, the butter yellow petals and the blushed spurs show off qualities of both types of columbines.

The sunshine-cheery Golden groundselPackera obovata, is modeling its spring wears, though with less oomph than in years past.

There’s still plenty of pop with these diminutive blooms; there’s no denying that yellow is bright.  But last summer, most of the individual plants in my small patch of groundsels succumbed to the heat and drought.  I didn’t realize that the soaker hose buried in this  garden had developed a leak. While a couple of plants not far from the groundsels received good soaks when during their twice per month drink, these poor little things got none of the wet stuff.  That garden boo-boo occurred during an especially hot and dry spell in August and September, and it wasn’t until the rains returned and the temperatures softened that I discovered that there were few remaining groundsels.

I don’t know if these other rosettes will produce bloom stalks this spring–time will tell–but I’ll certainly keep a better eye on things next summer.  Golden groundsel is a tough native plant which doesn’t need babying,  but two months with no water and hot temperatures is a bit too much to ask of them.  It’s a wonder there are any left!

 

This terra-cotta beauty is the bloom of the CrossvineBignonia capreolata.  

This individual vine grows in shade, up a fence, only producing a few blooms each spring.  Directly across from this vine, at the opposite end of my garden, grows a second Crossvine, also along a fence.  That second Crossvine receives much more sunshine, making many more blooms.  For now, all of its blooms are growing over the fence, where my sister-in-law enjoys them.

Oh, well, I’m sure she won’t mind if I walk over to say ‘hi’ to the wayward flowers.

 

Giant spiderwort, Tradescantia giganteaare solid, reliable spring blooming natives, dotting gardens and roadsides with purple-to-pink clusters.  Each new day as I walk my garden, ever more of these purple clusters appear, petals open for whatever pollinators happen by.  Spiderwort can be aggressive, filling a garden with bright color and fleshy green stalks and foliage.  But its pollinator power and luscious color are well-worth tolerating its bullying behavior.  The thuggy individual plants are easy to yank up and give away!

The first blooms of these plants show up on short bloom stalks, but as the days lengthen, the bloom stalks grow taller, in kind.  Many spiderwort plants in my garden reach up to two feet tall.

And, the bloom clusters are stunning.

As Texas ramps up for the new growing season, the natives are restless.  Native plants provide sustenance for wildlife and beauty for gardeners and wildflower watchers.  Native Texas plants–and there are many for every season and every growing situation–are ready to strut their stuff.

Not only do I celebrate blooming native Texas plants, today is Texas Independence Day!   Hats off to the Lone Star State!

Symmetry

I was adjusting the blinds at one of my front windows, when I stopped to appreciate, then photograph, this late afternoon, late winter scene.

The ceramic container holding the American century plantAgave americana, is hugged by a cushion of poppy greenery.  I should have thinned the seedlings long ago, but their verdant green beguiles, enchants the gardener, and therefore remain.  As the weeks pass and the days lengthen and warm, the poppy stalks will grow to at least 18 inches in height, eventually topped by scarlet blooms, with plenty of pollinators in attendance.

Just behind, Big muhly grass, Muhlenbergia lindheimeri, acts as a halo, fanning out  gracefully, late day sunshine highlighting leaf and panicle which are toasty at the upper ends, spring green near the bottom.  That green indicates the time to prune in nigh;  I’ll trim all of my grasses in the next week–the last of my winter pruning–in preparation for new growth, a new season.  Of course in nature, these grasses aren’t pruned by anyone, they simply continue:  brown-to-tan leaf structure sloughing off, its work done, making way for the new, the green–a process practiced and followed, year in and year out.  

An evergreen Barbados cherryMalpighia glabra, barely visible behind the muhly, echos fresh green growth, its dense cluster of foliage perfect for wildlife cover. Garnishing the scene and in the far distance, a neighbor’s Live oak tree, foliage intact, towers over all.

For more garden scenes, vignettes, thoughts, see Anna’s Flutter and Hum and her Wednesday Vignettes.

First Blooms

The first spring blooms have blossomed.  I’ve watched my irises, recognizing that the burst of color was imminent, and here it is.

Dotted with last night’s raindrops, the unknown variety has graced my garden for years.  I’ve researched this lovely, mostly by photos, and have found several species that are similar to what I grow, but I haven’t ever committed to anointing this iris by name.  Weirdly, I look far and wide when I’m identifying native plants and have, on occasion, spent hours scrolling through photos and descriptions in attempts to identify an unrecognized plant.  Yet with the iris plants, I’m content to simply enjoy the beauty of this non-native, without need for a definitive name.

It’s really a misnomer that the irises abloom today are the “first” blooms, since there are several perennials that have bloomed all winter.  But irises are quintessential spring flowers and I think it’s fair to allow them the title of number one–just because.

 

The true surprise this morning was the first open poppy of spring 2020.

I’d seen the buds, but guessed one or another would open later in the week.  A German friend gave me seeds many years ago;  I sowed those seeds and 20 years later, reap the benefits of their beauty and pollinator activity.   I collect seeds from each crop in late spring, sprinkle those seeds in autumn, and enjoy the bounty in March and April.

The poppies, or at least these firsts, are early.

Honeybees love these flowers, though none were up this morning to work in this first bloom’s offerings. I imagine bees will visit as the sun appears and day progresses.

Honeybees–like the garden–are ramping up for the growing season.