A Few Autumn Pollinators

While it still feels like summer (101F on Sunday!), autumn is here. The garden is lush with blooms, marking the second spring that Central Texas enjoys, the welcome blooming bonanza which is the payoff for our long, hot summers. It’s also very dry here; there’s been little rain since sometime in July. I don’t water the garden all that often, but I’m doing so this week.

The pollinators don’t mind either the heat or the drought as long as pollen and nectar are in good supply. I’m witnessing a huge variety of pollinators, all zipping (some crawling!) from bloom to bloom, filling the garden air with whiffs of wings and buzzes galore.

Plenty of American Bumblebees are gathering up pollen for overwintering nests. This one works the rich blue flowers of Henry Duelberg Sage, Salvia farinacea, ‘Henry Duelberg’.

Take a look at her pollen pantaloons! (Correctly known as corbiculae.)

The big showy butterflies are also active. This Giant Swallowtail, Papilio cresphontes nectars on luscious flowers of a Mexican Orchid tree, Bauhinia mexicana, the expansive, graceful wings carrying the insect from flower to flower.

Clusters of diminutive white blooms on Evergreen Sumac, Rhus virens, hosts scads of beetles, native bees, skippers, bigger butterflies, and honeybees.

This sumac is now two years old, just over 5 feet tall, and producing its first set of blooms. I’m loving it, as are the pollinators.

I’m not absolutely sure what this handsome critter is, but my best guess is that it’s a Blue-winged Wasp, Scolia dubia. Autumn flowering Frostweed, Verbesina virginica, lures the most interesting and varied pollinators; everyone seems to love these snowy blooms. Many of the pollinators who make their pilgrimage to frostweed in fall are nowhere in the garden at other times of the year. There’s always something that I’ve never seen before.

It’s nice when pollinators share mealtime!

Few Monarch butterflies have come through my garden as they make their way to Mexico and those that have visited were unwilling to participate in photo sessions, wings swooshing away from me in annoyance. Their cousins, Queen butterflies, Danaus gilippus, are common and active and don’t mind a photo–as long as their sipping of the sweet stuff isn’t interrupted. This two-fer spent time on the Plateau goldeneye, Viguiera dentata.

Texas Craglily, Echeandia texensis, attracts bees to its yellow-orange lilies. In particular, bumblebees excel at the hanging-upside-down trick.

Honeybees also grab onto the the stamens of craglilies for their share of pollen and nectar.

Cheerful pink Rock Rose, Pavonia lasiopetala, bobs in the background.

A significant cool front is headed our way, tomorrow and the rest of the week thankfully cooler. No rain is in the foreseeable future. I’m glad my garden is drought-tolerant, packed with native and well-adapted plants, and I’m pleased that it is a respite for wildlife. All wildlife–pollinators included–and this gardener, appreciate the bounty and beauty that these plants offer, especially in stressful times.

Hanging by a Thread

As I wrapped up some necessary gardening chores early this morning, I saw a newly emerged Pipevine Swallowtail, Battus philenor, resting near its former home, the shell of its chrysalis.

I should have dropped the pruning shears, wiped the brow, and grabbed my camera, but I didn’t. By the time I remembered that there was a photo worth getting, the butterfly was off to its adult business: its wings dry, its proboscis unfurled for nectaring, and the search of a mate a keen objective.

Every day, I pass by this seedling where the caterpillar made its home for a few weeks; I never noticed it. The chrysalises are such small, unobtrusive things, it’s easy to miss them in the lush of the garden. I’m not a scorched earth pruner, but when it’s hot and humid and I’ve had just about enough for one morning, it’s sometimes easy to forget the garden’s purpose. I guess the chrysalis isn’t the only thing hanging by a thread.

I’ve seen a Pipevine flitting in the garden today; I’m glad it was up and out in the early morning, shedding its temporary home for the wider world.

Garden Blues

My garden has the blues and I couldn’t be happier about it.

The full sun front garden is bursting with color in its second year of being, the blues not depressing either the garden or the gardener. I’m fond of blue flowers and grow several different species, most of which are native to Texas.

In this new garden I’ve planted five clumps of perennial Mealy Blue Sage ‘Henry Duelberg’, Salvia farinacea; all come from a plant I purchased years ago. This salvia is a late spring/summer/early fall bloomer and spreads by both seed and root. I should add that while it spreads, I don’t consider it aggressive; if a sprig pops up, it’s easy-peasy to yank out. It’s a dream to transplant: pull up a clump with roots, stick said clump in the ground, water a few times and it grows and blooms, beckoning the pollinators!

Mealy Blue Sage is favored by a wide variety of pollinators, like this honeybee. She is all-in for these small blooms.

Bigger pollinators, like this Black Swallowtail, Papilio polyxenes, are fans of the mealy blues, too.

Another blue that makes me cheerful is Indigo Spires, Salvia x ‘Indigo Spires’. This perennial is a hybrid cross of the native Salvia farinacea and Salvia longispicata. I planted this specimen in my back garden a couple of years ago where it received some afternoon sun, but when the front garden morphed to full sun, I moved it there where it would get most-of-the-day sunshine, be a happier plant, and bring on the blues. Indigo is bigger than the ‘Henry Duelberg’, with longer bloom spikes and larger leaves.

Many years ago when my back garden was full sun, I grew an Indigo Spires. In late summer and fall afternoons, there were often fifteen to twenty American Bumblebees working these blooms. Sadly, I haven’t seen that many bees on this plant, but the bees that are around definitely make a bee-line for these blues.

If there was an award for blues in the garden, I think it would go to the Blue Curls, Phacelia congesta. I didn’t mean to have so many this year and I should have culled some of the seedlings, but I am a softy. I have a hard time removing seedlings of desirable plants unless I have someone who will take them to another garden space. These are Texas annual wildflowers, so leaving them in place didn’t stress me too much as I knew that they’d be done with their show by mid-May when I could remove them, making room for the summer perennials.

When the Curls reached the zenith of their flowering, there was a constant gentle buzzing in the garden and movement throughout the garden’s air. Honeybees, Carpenter bees, a myriad of tiny native bees, skippers and larger butterflies all flock to partake of these charming blue-violet flowers.

Honeybees sharing a meal of Blue Curl nectar and pollen.
Honeybee and Grey Hairstreak each mind their own business as they sip the sweet stuff.
Red Admiral (Vanessa atalanta) on a Blue Curl.
Fiery Skipper (Hylephila phyleus) lights up the blues!

A variety of beetles and leaf-footed bugs got into the act of working these sweet blue blooms! Everybody, it seems, loves Blue Curls.

As the Curls’ blooms faded and the seeds developed, migrating songbirds were in the garden from dawn to dusk. I witnessed Common Yellowthroats, Lincoln’s Sparrows, Clay-colored Sparrows and Lesser and American Goldfinches noshing on the seeds and, no doubt, some of the tiny insects that were also on the plants. As these migratory birds fly northbound from my garden, they’ll pass along seeds to other places for next year’s wildlife.

Blue Curls are a cornucopia for wildlife. The insect and bird song, color, and life that these blue beauties brought to the garden during March and April eclipsed all other plants in the garden.

That’s why I didn’t remove them!

In the back garden, things are shadier, but the blues reign. Another violet-blue flowering plant is the perennial Heartleaf Skullcap, Scutellaria ovata and it thrives in part-shade.

Velvety, grey-green foliage accompanies these diminutive blooms.

The grey-green stalks with fuzzy foliage appear in winter, fresh color against the freeze-rendered browns and tans. Heartleaf Skullcap spreads as a ground cover, adding blue bloom spikes atop the foliage from late spring through mid summer. Summer’s heat ends the blooms and fades the foliage; the plant eventually disappears. The gardener helps that process by shearing to the ground or pulling up the plant. Thick roots lie dormant in the soil, safe from the Texas heat, waiting patiently until cool winter, when it emerges with fresh stems and foliage, ready to grow and begin its cycle in the garden for a new season.

The pond’s water lilies are pink and yellow, but its bog plant, Pickerelweed, Pontederia cordata, rocks teeny violet-blue flowers borne on spiky stems. The plant sits in slow-moving water, blue spikes rise above luscious foliage.

Many of my blues suggest a liaison with lavender or violet, but this final blue is a true blue: spring and autumn blooming Majestic Sage, Salvia guaranitica.

This is the only non-native blue that I grow; its home base is in Central and South America. A gorgeous, rich blue, the plant is colorful in spring and autumn, choosing to rest during the sweltering summer months. Most of the bees that visit nectar steal, though my honeybees and some of the tiny native bees crawl deep into the blooms for their sweet treat.

I grow a few other blues that will sing their songs in late summer and fall. The blues in a garden are the kind of blues we should welcome–for their beauty and for what they provide for the wild things we share space with. Add some blues to your garden, you’ll be happy you did!