Pretty Pollen Powerhouse Plant

The spring garden is popping with all sorts of pollen-laden plants and pollinators are punctilious in their pollination proclivity. In particular, bees–both native and honey–are performing their tasks, adding to the pulchritude of the garden and the procreation of new plants.

Five Desert Globemallow shrubs, Sphaeralcea ambigua, that now grow in my full-sun garden, are powerhouse plants with pretty flowers; honeybees are passionate about these blooms. Four of the shrubs are pictured here, two in front, and two on either side toward the back, near the wall of the house. One shrub grows prolifically off-camera. I’m pleased as punch that I now have the perfect place to grow these peachy/sagey plants.

All five were damaged by the week-long hard freeze in January, but have rebounded with aplomb. I’m pumped about their growth and blooms.

Sun or clouds, honeybees visit the dreamsicle mallow blooms daily; they exit the blooms sprinkled with pollen, and buzz forth, from one bloom to the next. I can’t help but wonder: is it possible that honeybees become too pollen-packed to fly to their hives?

While Desert Globemallow is native to North America, it isn’t native here in Central Texas and can be a pain to procure. Mine have produced a couple of seedlings; with some good luck and careful transplanting, sharing of plants is in the plans.

In its native range of Nevada, Arizona, California, Utah and parts of Mexico, Globe Mallow tends to a longer bloom time than I’ve enjoyed here in humid Austin. These pretties’ bloom production will become pokey once summer’s heat pummels the garden. Except for occasional freeze damage during winter, the foliage is perfectly attractive year-round.

A tiny ant heads in one direction along the petal while the honeybee heads in another, finished with her work on this flower.

Prolific blooming at its finest, the Desert Globemallow flowers are preferred by pollinators and the pride of this gardener.

A Riff on Pink-n-Blue

Riffing on a recent post from Steve at Portraits of Wildflowers, I’m enjoying my own celebration of the annual pink-n-blue spring happening. It was Steve’s post that reminded me that I do have a redbud tree and that maybe, just maybe, it might be loaded with blooms this year. This little tree has grown apace since the front garden shed its shady ways and began thriving in full sun after the removal of a large, ice-storm damaged Arizona Ash tree.

The plant seeded itself in this spot 10-plus years ago. It didn’t grow much and never bloomed, though the foliage certainly looked to me like redbud foliage.

Absent other clues, I just wasn’t 100% certain what it was–until last spring. Last March a few of the signature dainty pink flowers, hugging close to the limbs, appeared. Yes! A redbud tree! I was tickled pink!

Once the tree was exposed to full sun, it took off in height and width, and this spring for the first time, it is in full flower production. Blooms have appeared throughout the limbs, in concert with the unfolding heart-shaped leaves.

There are several kinds of redbud trees which grow here in Texas. I believe that this one is an Eastern Redbud, Cercis canadensis var. canadensis, mostly due to its glossy leaves. There are a number of these trees in my neighborhood and there are several small seedlings in other spots in my garden.

As I’ve observed the blooms, tiny native bees seem to be the primary pollinators. On a breezy day, they’re hard at work, but difficult for me to capture in a photo.

The common name for this tree describes the red buds, before blooms open. But it’s the lovely shape, lush foliage, and sweet pink flowers that most people remember about this tree and its relatives.

Pink blooms and blue skies–spring has sprung!

Who-Who’s There?

It wasn’t the signature hoot of a Great Horned Owl, Bubo virginianus, that alerted me to its presence in a neighbor’s big, beautiful Live Oak tree early this morning, but instead, the vociferous complaints of a mob of Blue Jays, Cyanocitta cristata.

I think this gorgeous bird is a juvenile Great Horned Owl, most likely last year’s hatch. It could be an adult, as our neighborhood has sustained at least one pair of nesting Great Horns for years.

Just after I returned from visiting stunning Costa Rica in November, for several weeks each day, I heard a call that I couldn’t identify, even with the Merlin app sound feature. In time, my neighbor (and sister-in-law) discovered that the call is the ‘begging call‘ that young owls use for catching the attention of their adults. Once they’ve left their parents’ tutelage, young owls use that call for a time to let their parents know where they are located in the wider world.

Handsome Bird stayed in the tree for at least an hour, with its Blue Jay back up screamers serving as annoying company.

Blue Jay nemesis perches on the branch just above the owl, cawing nonstop.

As I snapped photos, the big, beautiful bird turned southward, spread its magnificent wings, and flew to a quieter spot. Maybe it’ll get some rest today, before hunting commences at sundown.