Retama (Parkinsonia aculeata): A Seasonal Look

Posted on October 8, 2015 by Tina

As I close out the year of learning about the Retama, Parkinsonia aculeata, for Tree Following at Loose and Leafy, join me for year-round look-see at this fascinating native tree to parts of North and South America. Indigenous to Texas and westward to California, as well as to large areas of Central and South America, this beautiful small tree is a boon for wildlife and native plant/wildlife gardeners alike.

This October of 2015, my Retama tree is green, leafy, and full of life.

There is little change from my September and August Tree Following posts, except that there are few flowers left to complement the feathery foliage.

Interestingly, there aren’t many seed pods on my tree this year, either. Seed development varies from year to year and I’m betting that there are fewer because the mass of late spring blooms were knocked of during our heavy May/June rains: fewer flowers, fewer seeds.

In October, with summer continuing its hold of warm (not hot!) afternoons, arid breezes, and no rain, the Retama presides, lush-n-lacy, over my back garden.

Retama foliage is a series of leaflets aligned opposite one another along paired leaf stalks.

As the days shorten and the temperatures cool significantly, the leaflets adorning the paired stalks begin dropping off.

The stalks will be left, for a time, as a spidery remembrance of the elegant and unusual foliage.

If or when there is a hard freeze (after all, Retama flourishes in tropical and semi-tropical climates), all manner of Retama foliage–leaflets and stalks–vacate the tree, joining with other deciduous leaves–either on the ground as mulch, or in the compost bin for future soil nourishment. Here in Austin, that will typically occur in late December and January.

The limbs and trunk of the tree remain green throughout winter. This adaptation is valuable for survival and stunning to observe. The transfer of the photosynthesis process from foliage to limb allows Retama to continue feeding during times of drought, and to maintain vigor during the relatively short, but temperature variable, winter months.

In the deep of winter (such that it is in the Southwest U. S. and other regions where Retama is native), the green of the limbs and trunk provide life-affirming color and are an attractive feature in the winter landscape.

Without foliage, the thorns on the branches are more noticeable. Be careful, they bite!

As spring approaches in March, the Retama responds with green,

…green,

…green foliage.

Retama is a member of the Fabaceae, or legume family. Other Fabaceae plants are nicknamed “broom”, if they sport slender stems with tiny leaflets. The unusual leaf or “broom” arrangement of Retama lends a soft, verdant look to the tree throughout its growing season.

By May or June, clusters of bright yellow flowers form and will flower continuously, causing pollinators to visit regularly and, no doubt, eagerly.

The Retama flower is an interesting one, because the petals are bright yellow, except for one which is called the “honey” petal. The honey petal is pale to deeper orange.

Once pollinated, the colored petal deepens and remains on the tree longer than the other petals. The flowers adorn the plant in response to rainfall and can bloom for a long period of time–late spring, all through summer, and into the fall. My particular Retama does not grow in full sun, so it’s never achieved the mass blooming that a Retama in blasting sun would produce.

In this year (2014-2015) that I’ve Tree Followed the Retama and profiled it for A Seasonal Look, the tree experienced a range of extremes–not that unusual here in Texas, as this is a land of extremes–but noteworthy. We enjoyed a “normal” spring with mild temperatures and average rainfall. However, in May and early June, we received nearly 20 inches of rain, temporarily halting an 8 year drought. Known as a “rain bomb,” that type of flooding has always occurred in Central Texas and is often, though not always, a drought-buster. The Retama’s response to the heavy rains was to drop its first flush of glorious flowers that had opened in May.

For the latter part of June and into July, my Retama was flower-less, but it did produce more clusters as the summer months progressed. Once the rain stopped in early June and the Texas summer temperatures and dry conditions settled in for the duration (and duration and duration…), it took a little time for the tree to set out its signature bloom sprays. I didn’t water my gardens until mid-July and have only watered four times as of this post. After the flowers were pummeled by the May rains, the tree bloomed up again, much to the delight of the bees, butterflies and hummingbirds.

Oh, and the gardener too.

In more typical years, the Retama is a solid bloomer during the toughest months of our growing season and with minimal rain or irrigation. After the wet spring and then with no rainfall until late August/early September (and not much then), many plants succumbed. Even some native plants that are evolved to withstand the capriciousness of the Texas climate, struggled this summer. The Retama? It flowered and foliaged along just fine, thank you very much:

In July,

….August,

…and September.

It was green, blooming and gorgeous. What’s not to love about that?

Birds are constant companions of this tree.

As the flowers fade and the seed pods form, first green,

…then brown,

…the tree adds other delectables to the landscape besides pollen and nectar: small mammals and birds (in particular) enjoy feeding on the seeds. In areas of the world where Retama is invasive (parts of Africa, India and Australia), it is most likely birds who’ve spread Retama to problematic levels. I don’t want to blame birds for Retama’s invasiveness–that’s squarely on people and lack proper management for introducing non-native and potentially harmful species to new areas without first experimenting with natural controls. Where Retama is native, it’s an excellent plant: water wise, wildlife friendly, and beautiful. Where it’s an introduced aggressor in the landscape, it’s proven a serious problem for indigenous flora and fauna, requiring great efforts to remove. For example, Australia has banned the sale and planting of Retama.

Have I mentioned that it’s always best to plant native?

Here in Central Texas, the Retama is a plant which needs little, if any, supplemental watering. It grows remarkably fast, reaching to “tree” height in a matter of a few years. I mulched it when it was a baby tree (I think I purchased it as in a one gallon pot), but I don’t mulch established trees. Retama is commonly available at locally owned nurseries, especially in late summer and fall, which are good times of the year to plant perennials and trees here in Texas. Retama has a graceful natural form and doesn’t require pruning, except if a branch dies–or perhaps if the gardener is weary of getting dinged on the head by a formidable Retama thorn.

Retama trees aren’t particular about soil types, so no amendments are necessary. If much irrigation or rainfall is the norm, Retama will seed out, but in its 12 or 13 years in my garden, I’ve only found a half-dozen seedlings from my tree.

If you live in Retama’s native range, you’d be hard-pressed to grow an easier or lovelier tree to accent the southwestern garden.

In Spring,

…Summer,

…Autumn,

…Winter,

…Retama is a stunning tree: hardy and reliable, wildlife friendly, and darned pretty to look at. Who doesn’t want plants with those descriptors?

Possumhaw Holly (Ilex decidua): A Seasonal Look

Posted on February 13, 2015 by Tina

When January and February roll around and if a significant freeze has occurred, this is something gorgeous to see in Central Texas, as well as many other places.

Waxen limbs decorated with luscious, red berries, this is the winter iteration of Possumhaw Holly, also known as Winterberry and Deciduous Holly.

Its scientific name, Ilex decidua says it all: decidua comes from the Latin meaning decidere, to fall off. Trees which retain leaves, like the Yaupon Holly, Ilex vomitoria, in the background, are evergreen.

Trees which lose leaves in winter are deciduous, like the Possumhaw in the foreground. A Seasonal Look focuses on this deciduous, berrying tree, valuable for wildlife and desirable for gardeners and homeowners.

My experience with Possumhaw Holly rests primarily with the one growing in my back garden which is about 13 years old.

Possumhaw grows in a wide range of the continental United States–from the Southern states upwards into Illinois, in parts of Florida and Texas. Possumhaw is common throughout Central Texas and into West Texas, but my father has one in Corpus Christi, Texas (along the Gulf of Mexico coast) which is beautiful with masses of berries in winter. It is in winter that most people turn their heads at this stunning, understory tree, but it’s an excellent tree year-round to include in the home or commercial garden.

The berries are red in the deep of winter,

…and are sometimes stripped very quickly after ripening by the various birds which find them yummy, like Mockingbirds, Blue Jays, and Cedar Waxwings, and also by the small mammals, such as squirrels, which enjoy the tasty fruit. Some years though, the berries remain on the limbs even as new spring leaves emerge.

The bark is pale and relatively smooth,

…complementing the colorful berries in winter and the bright green of new leaves in spring. Usually it’s in March (in Austin) that the tree begins leafing out. In more northern latitudes, that spring leaf flush occurs later. In mild years, not all of the previous season’s leaves will have dropped completely, so there are occasions where last season’s leaves and some berries adorn the tree alongside new foliage.

The leaves are vibrant green, obovate, and slightly scalloped.

Once new leaves are fully out, tiny white flowers appear and are not particularly noticeable by people but are favored by bees and other pollinators. The flowers don’t last long, but instead develop into teensy green berries,

….and then those berries grow. One caution, though: the Possumhaw is dioecious, meaning that the trees are either girl trees or boy trees. It’s the girl trees you want–they produce those fab berries. Additionally, I’ve read that it’s beneficial for Possumhaw to grow near to other berrying plants for cross-pollination to occur. My neighbor grows another Texas native, the Yaupon Holly, Ilex vomitoria, within spitting distance from my Possumhaw.I like the combination of the two Ilex species, hanging out together in the back of my garden.

Other common garden berrying plants, like Burford Holly, Ilex cornuta, also serve as pollination partners.

Possumhaw is a tough customer that handles heat and drought conditions during summer, always looking fresh and verdant. According to the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center, it has “moderate” water needs–it is a plant that is often found in river bottoms, after all. Mine gets a little water by soaker hose, once or twice per month in summer–but that’s it. Mine also grows in decent soil and I’m a mulcher, but Possumhaw is found in a large variety of soil types, so it’s versatile and thrives in a variety of situations.

I’ve allowed my Possumhaw to develop multiple trunks,

…and I don’t prune often, unless a branch is broken or in the way of something else. (Ahem, fence.) However, Possumhaw responds well to pruning and is attractive as either a multi-trunked or single trunked tree–it truly is a matter of aesthetics how you’d want your Possumhaw to look, more formal with pruning or less formal, without.

In the late summer, the berries begin blushing,

…and the blush deepens with passing of the autumn months. One day, the glorious red arrives.

During autumn, the leaves tend to develop into a more yellow shade of green, sometimes actually turning yellow. Once a hard freeze occurs and the leaves fall, it’s all about the berries!

Such beauty in a rather dull time of year. Possumhaw is a worthwhile little tree for many in the United States to grow–plant one today, for spring,

…summer,

….autumn,

… and winter.

You will love this addition to your garden and so will the wildlife in your gardens who rely on this nurturing tree.

Additional information: https://mygardenersays.com/2015/02/16/possumhaw-addendum

Big Muhly, Lindheimer’s Muhly (Muhlenbergia lindheimeri): A Seasonal Look

Posted on June 6, 2014 by Tina

This is the second post as part of the new and continuing series, A Seasonal Look. Today we’ll look at Lindheimer’s (Big) Muhly, Muhlenbergia lindheimeri .

Be still my beating heart! THAT is a beautiful plant!

The slender, graceful foliage in spring and summer and the fall/winter inflorescence of the Lindheimer’s or Big Muhly, Muhlenbergia lindheimeri, is eye-catching and always makes my heart skip a beat. My oh my!

Lindheimer’s Muhly is one of my favorite plants. (I know. I say that all the time.) I think it’s stunning year-round and a desirable garden addition–from its early spring-green strands of foliage growth,

through summer,

to the zenith of its beauty in fall.

Lindheimer’s Muhly is a native Texas grass. Endemic to Central Texas, it’s become a popular landscape plant for home and commercial gardens. L. Muhly is excellent in full sun and requires little water once established. It is a lovely ornamental grass and regionally appropriate for our gardens. Lindheimer’s Muhly is gorgeous when planted in pairs or groups,

or as a single specimen.

It’s a plant which adds structure, foliage interest and grace to any garden, whether in a mixed perennial bed or a desert-themed garden.

In most locally owned nurseries here in Central Texas, L. Muhly is available in four-inch, gallon and larger containers–depending upon the store and time of year. Lindheimer’s Muhly is an easy plant for the most neglectful gardener. The only maintenance is pruning the grass in late winter, preferably in February. Other than that, this plant requires little care. One other chore the gardener might undertake is to rake fallen leaves out of the grass after autumn leaf fall.

Personally, I don’t bother. But if you find fallen leaves tangled in the grass unattractive, it won’t hurt your Muhly to rake them out. Go for it!

As for pruning Lindheimer’s Muhly, all that’s required is pruning straight across in a “buzz” cut or pruning into a rounded shape. You can use hand pruners or larger lopping pruners. I have an old, electric pruner and I simply let’r rip–it takes about 30 seconds for me to prune a mature plant. That’s it!

Here are some examples of L. Muhly after winter “hair” cuts.

An advantage of pruning in late February versus early January ( well after the typical first hard freeze renders the plant dormant), is that pruning in February results in only days or weeks before new growth begins. A week or two after pruning, the new spring growth visibly arches up and over the pruned portion of the grass.

Also, it’s a good idea to plant L. Muhly with early to mid spring blooming perennials or native annual spring wildflowers. I’ve planted mine with Heartleaf Skullcap, Purple Coneflower and iris as neighboring companion plants. As the Muhly is growing from its winter prune, the blooming annuals and perennials can flower with abandon and strut their stuff. Later in summer and fall, when the Muhly is in its full glory, the earlier spring bloomers have exited center stage–either by complete dormancy (like Heartleaf Skullcap) or reverting to a less showy, non-blooming state.

It’s not necessary to prune Muhly–after all, in the wild they aren’t pruned. I experimented a couple of years ago with one of my Muhly grasses and didn’t prune in late winter. Here it is in spring:

and in the early summer:

I eventually selectively pruned the dead foliage out of the plant because I preferred the newer green growth to dominate and considering that my Muhlies are in a cultivated garden, it’s appropriate to “neaten” them with a late winter trim. Pruning isn’t necessary for the health of the plant–pruning is for aesthetics only.

Lindheimer’s Muhly is deer resistant and will get two to five feet tall and about three feet wide. L. Muhly prefers full sun, though it can take some shade. It can also grow in a variety of soil types, though as it’s native to the Edwards Plateau eco-region, it prefers a rockier soil. The two original Muhly plants in my gardens succumbed to increasing shade, plus the soil in my garden is somewhat heavy. My property lies along a junction of the Edwards Plateau and the Blackland Prairie eco-regions and is the heavier Blackland Prairie soil. The combination of increasing shade and clay soil is not ideal for L. Muhly. Last year, one Muhly rotted out completely and the other was well on its way. I removed both, but added two more L. Muhlies to the garden.

I replaced the two rotted Muhlies with new, one gallon-sized plants in fall 2013. Seedlings and newly purchased specimens are easy to plant–just water for the first few weeks, then back off of the irrigation. Mature L. Muhly require minimal irrigation. I water one or twice per month during the summer months. Also, I don’t mulch my Muhlies thickly–a thin covering is fine.

The replacement Muhly grasses receive more sun than the originals–they should be happier.