Here in Central Texas, resident birds slow down their feeder feeding during August, September, and October. The chicks have fledged and are mostly grown, the next breeding season is far enough away that adult birds are just taking care of themselves. Also, there are plenty of plants with seeds and fruits available during late summer and autumn, so feeders aren’t emptied with the enthusiasm as during other times of the year. Native plants are always the best feeders for birds! Birds are certainly around, but the garden is quieter in these months; I miss the birdie antics and chatter.
In the last few weeks, avian activity has ramped up. There are more birds and a greater variety of species. As well, the mated pairs are hanging out again and feeding together. There are two Northern Cardinals, this female,
…and her mate, that are regular visitors in the garden. For a while, I spotted a second male flitting about, but I’m guessing that this handsome guy chased him off and won her heart.
Red-bellied Woodpeckers are common in this neighborhood and several of her kind regularly stop by for suet (seen here) and peanuts.
Some of the cutest birds are Black-crested Titmice. Native to Texas and northern Mexico, these adorable birds zip from tree-to-tree, branch-to-branch–and really love peanuts.
What a darling!
I’m always happy that over-wintering warblers hang out in the garden from November to April. Typically, there are one or more Orange-crowned Warblers, like this little one:
Also, Yellow-rumped Warblers and Ruby-crowned Kinglets are winter residents. So far this autumn I’ve sighted only one of the Butter Butts (Yellow-rumped Warblers) and no Kinglets in my garden. I have heard both kinds of birds nearby, so they may be snatching peanuts when I’m not looking.
This attractive fella and a buddy spent a couple of days cleaning up sunflower and safflower seeds on the ground. A White-throated Sparrow, this part of Texas is included in its non-breeding territory. I’ve seen this species before, but they’re not common visitors to my garden.
A me-and-my-shadow capture of a local Blue Jay as it snacks on some peanuts. Blue Jays are always fun birds to have around: loud, raucous, and beautiful, they’re obnoxious charmers.
I’m keeping count of my backyard birds for Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s Project Feederwatch, though I don’t really need a reason to watch birds! It’s a great way to learn about resident and visiting birds, their habits, breeding, and food likes, and it’s easy. Birds are boss and always interesting to watch!
When I began re-imagining this plot of Earth, my back garden was the sunny side up and the front garden, while facing harsh west sun, grew mostly in dappled shade. Nature evolves, change happens and the opposite is now my gardens’ norm: the front garden is glorious in sunshine and my back garden is nearly opposite, ranging from deep shade, to dappled, to part shade. In the long, hot summer months, the back garden is a refuge. It’s still hot of course, but the cover of the two mature Red Oaks, Quercus buckleyi, is a balm to that heat, allowing for a more comfortable time in the garden to work or sit.
My back garden isn’t as lush with flowers or native grasses as the front, though there are plenty of blooms and varying foliage, the palette of garden choices is simply more limited. In this photo, facing northwest and behind the yellow chairs the plants receive no direct sun.
In that space, Turk’s Cap, Malvaviscus arboreus var. drummondii, provide wide, tropical looking leaves paired with the Turk’s signature red blooms; several Drummond’s Ruellia, Ruellia drummondiana, which offer rich purple flowers from mid-summer through September, and Tropical Sage, Salvia coccinea, brightening the dark space with white, pollinator flowers. There’s plenty of evergreen, too, in the form of Giant and small Lirope and iris straps, though it’s far too shady for iris flowers to bloom here.
Another dark space, behind the Red Oak in the above photo, sits an American Agave with Purple Heart, Tradescantia pallida. I’ve planted five sections of this ground-cover in the back garden. Where it receives more sun, the foliage is a darker purple; with less direct sun, both green and purple leaves are represented. Purple Heart doesn’t not like full sun.
Straight out from the kitchen, living room, catio, and back bench, the garden is a narrow, part-shade situation. This is where most of the bird feeders reside (peanut, safflower, suet, and sunflower) and where birds hang out. The pond is also a huge draw, especially during spring and summer migrations.
In both my front and back gardens, I grow many plants that provide cover, flowers, and seeds/fruits for resident and migrant birds. However, it’s in this back space that I can watch, unobtrusively, the antics and activities of birds and other wildlife. During the day, whether the feeders are out or not, there are always critters around. For nighttime viewing, we’ve installed two wildlife cameras: one placed on the left beam of the wooden arch in this photo, the other in a different area of the garden. Raccoons are the most frequent visitors, but neighborhood Grey Foxes, Opossums, occasionally a stray cat, a bunny or two, once, a Yellow-crowned Night Heron, and (unfortunately) some rats, are active, especially around the pond.
The front garden is now wonderful for bird activity, but I don’t have a particularly good spot in which to watch that activity. The two yellow chairs in the center of that garden (see previous post) are too much a part of the garden and when I’m there, the birds scatter. I’m mulling changes to allow a bird blind–of a sort–but haven’t settled on a good way to watch the front garden birds so they won’t be offended by my presence. For now and maybe always, I’m content knowing the birds have plenty to nibble and currently, no stray cats to bother them!
It is in this shady back garden where I take most of my bird photos:
Moving south east toward the wider part of the garden, the garden opens a bit to the sky, primarily because the far Red Oak tree was damaged in Winter Storm Uri in 2021 and no longer spreads its canopy over the whole of the garden. There are pockets of sun, here and there, allowing for a wider range of plants to grow. The pond, across from the pea gravel negative space, receives a decent amount of needed sunshine in the summer months. The fish and lilies are happy with that arrangement.
I resisted digging a pond for a long time. I thought it would too much work and maintenance, but I’m pleased to say that I was wrong about that! The pond benefits from a once-per-year clean out–and it’s a long day when that happens–but other than that and adding a bit of water from time-to-time, the pond is a delight. I can’t imagine a garden without some sort of moving water feature.
Beyond the pond and central part of the back garden, and at the far end of my pie-shape lot, more native perennials and native and non-native grasses keep an old Texas Mountain Laurel, Sophora secundifloracompany.
Only some limbs and dark foliage of the Mountain Laurel are visible in the photo, top left.
The Mountain Laurel was the first small tree I planted (not long after we planted the large Red Oaks) and is at the end of its life. Birds still perch in it and squirrels still climb along its old branches. While it no longer holds a beautiful form or produces stunning purple flowers, it will stay for those critters as long as it’s not in danger of falling.
This section, which abuts the fence between our garden and our neighbor, my husband’s lovely sister, gets a good blast of sunshine. I’ve not been completely happy with some of my plant choices here; it’s a work in progress and an area that I’m still futzingwith!
Along the pathway to the back corner (where the honeybees live), two Frostweed, Verbesina virginica, and smaller companion ground-covers and perennials provide color and a diversity of foliage.
Left to its own this year due to my laziness (I usually lightly prune mid-summer), the Frostweed bloomed twice: one bloom-up in July/August, the second in October–and it’s still in creamy flowery mode. I should always be so lazy! Frostweed is a Monarch butterfly favorite and a number of the amber beauties stopped by this Frostweed for nourishment!
This crazy thing is all over the place!
Forsythia Sage, Salvia madrensis, is a garden pass-along plant–as are many of my plants. Another missed opportunity to prune in August, I was too whiny about the heat and therefore didn’t. Now, instead of standing as a more compact plant, the long, cheery bloom spikes sit at the end of even longer, brittle stems and most of those stems are a tad floppy! S. madrensis is the last perennial to bloom in my garden, strutting their yellow stuff mid-to-late October until a freeze renders its blooms’ mute. I don’t have any photos of honeybees on the flowers, but they visit regularly, and towards winter, it is usually the last plant where they get nectar and pollen. Native to the Sierra Madre Oriental mountains of Mexico, Forsythia Sage provides blue-tinged foliage and stunning blooms, and is a dramatic addition to the back garden. It’s thirstier than most of my plants, so receives some extra wet stuff from my hose (maybe twice/month in the heat), but it’s worth that effort.
In the back of the main section of this garden packed with shrubs, perennials, and ground-covers, I’ve added small trees/large shrubs.
This past summer, my back garden received no artificial irrigation in the shady spots and was watered only twice in areas that receive sun.
Thank you native, hardy plants. Thank you shade. Thank you, no grass!
My gardens–front and back–are both mature and new. I’m always re-imagining and re-configuring areas, either due to changes outside my control, mistakes I’ve made in previous years (snort–there are lots of those!), or simply realizing there are better, more biologically appropriate and aesthetic choices for a section of garden. I feel about my garden the way the second Mrs. de Winter in the novel Rebecca explains to Max de Winter about her father, who was an artist and painted a tree–just one tree–over and over, in different ways because he continually saw the tree differently. Gardens are like that, sparking interest and imagination, they are vessels for learning and experimenting, and are always places of joy, connection, and peace.
Recent strolls through my front garden gladdened my gardener’s heart. This formerly shade, now full sun space, has delivered in blooms and foliage beyond my original dreams for it! It’s a hot garden in the long summer months, though full of flowers, with attending birds and insects busy with their lives, beauty and utility on full display. In those months I enjoy the early mornings and late evenings, the hot afternoons are a time to assess the plants’ viability. Those visits are short bursts of garden appreciation and sometimes, a recognition of design mistakes. Texas summers demand respect and practicality.
Left to right: Big Muhly, Gulf Muhly, Gregg’s Mistflower, Red Yucca, and in the rear, Plateau Goldeneye
The autumn bloom-up, our so-called second spring, sometimes starts in October, sometimes in November, rain and temperatures being the deciding factors. This year, November is the graced month, with a bit of rain (though not enough…) and cooler temperatures. I traveled most of October and thought I would miss a good deal of the second spring, but warmer-than-normal temperatures and little rain at that time delayed the show. My garden has performed admirably in November and I have enjoyed every minute!
Left to right: Henry Duelberg Sage with Gulf Muhly behind, Rock Rose and Little Bluestem mingle in the center/right. A branch of Flame Acanthus borders along the right.
Autumn specialty plants, those which show-off in fall, are plenty and varied. Here, Fall Aster, Symphyotrichum oblongifolium, perky and pretty flowers abloom, bask in the late season gentle sunshine.
Some asters share space with Globe Mallow, Sphaeralcea ambigua, dark green, tiny leaves of the aster and its purple ray flowers a perfect companion to the grey, ruffled leaves and dreamsicle orange mallow blooms.
On colder days, the mallow blooms are reluctant to open up for pollination business. I’ve watched honeybees struggle to nuzzle their way into the center of the mallow, determined to work in the tight space. Sometimes they make it, sometime they shrug their little bee shoulders and move on to a more amenable prospect.
On warmer days, honeybees go all in–literally–working the blooms!
When our large freeze-damaged Arizona Ash was removed in 2021, it was the native grasses that I was most excited about adding to my garden as my garden space had never enjoyed enough sun to make native grasses happy and fulfilled. I now grow six Big Muhly, Muhlenbergia lindheimeri, their silvery blooms and graceful presence a signature of my fall garden.
I attempted to grow Gulf Muhly, Muhlenbergia capillaris, for years and failed miserably–there was no place in my gardens for the Texas sun to blast these grasses from sun-up to sun-down which is their preference. I now grow several of these pinky, plumy beauties. Mine still aren’t the head-turners like others I see around town, as they do live in a tiny bit of shade as the days shorten. But beggars cannot be choosers and I’ll take what loveliness they offer, especially when paired with Gregg’s Mistflower, Conoclinium greggi.
Honeybees are around, as they will be all winter, but native bees are done for the year, tucked in for winter or finished with their lives. It wasn’t a great year for butterflies; drought, I assume, took it’s toll. Monarchs have come through and are on their way to Mexico; it was a decent, though not great, migration.
This day, a Queen butterfly (and several of its buddies) adore the sweet, fuzzy blooms of the Gregg’s Mistflower.
Plateau Goldeneye, Viguiera dentata, grows tall and wide throughout the season, a sprinkling of sunny flowers cheery gifts during the summer months. October and November see the shrubs explode yellow, the pollinators thrilled with their abundance. Once the flowers are done, various birds descend, the seeds delectable.
I like this shot: one bud on the right preparing to bloom, open flowers, spent bloom atop and to the sides, stripped seed husks surrounding.
Turk’s Cap, Malvaviscus arboreus var. drummondii, is long season bloomer, but it’s near time for them to sleep. This shrub showcases a few individual crimson delights, but it’s clear that some chilly nights have impacted the foliage, turning burgundy from lush green.
Rock Rose, Pavonia lasiopetala, another April to December flower-power plant, still blooms! Honeybees are happy to muck around in the bed of pollen!
Four-nerve Daisy, Tetraneuris scaposa, grows happily in several spots of my front garden. Thriving in full sun, these plants rarely are without flowers. Even when this daisy freezes, within a couple of days, buds will appear, ready to yellow-up again. I guess you just can’t keep a good plant down!
Spring is already announcing its presence with a number of spring wildflower greens popping up and spreading out. This bit of Blue Curl, Phacelia congesta, greenery will grow through the next months, then unfurl its petite blue-purple blooms in April and May.
I’ve toured the garden and now it’s time for a break, to plop down and rest in the chairs, sip some nice Stash tea before the next cold front blows in. Thanks garden and plants and wildlife–you deliver joy and meaning.
My Gardener Says... 