Autumn Flowers

As my last post indicated, fall is a great time for flowers here in Central Texas. Though we enjoy a long growing season and a short dormant season (some flowers persisting even during winter) I think of the fall floral show a last hurrah before winter’s chill sets in.

One perennial growing in my formerly shady front garden/now full sun front garden that’s rocking the change is Pigeonberry, Rivina humilis.

A small ground cover, about four inches tall with a spread of maybe two feet, Pigeonberry is often touted as a shade/part-shade plant. Leftover from its time in the shade, the Pigeonberry has proved itself worthy as a full sun plant. Dainty flowers bloomed all summer, continuing that streak into October. Beginning sometime in September, luscious berries appeared, adding to the mix. It’s a pretty combination, the sweet pink of the petite flowers and the rich crimson, yummy looking berries!

By the end of October, it was all about the berries. As we’ve experienced a couple of chilly nights, the diminutive flower clusters are gone, some berries are left, foliage is burgundy–and there are about a million seedlings poking up from the ground! In case you’re wondering, I don’t often see pigeons at the pigeonberry, but doves and blue jays partake regularly.

Purple Coneflower, Echinacea purpurea, are also reliable participants in our second spring. They bloom tall and stately in spring, grow toasty and seed-producing by mid-summer, are pruned to green rosettes in August, and once September rolls around and after some rain, about one-third of my cones bloom up again for fall. The flowers never grow as tall as in spring, but I appreciate whatever blooms they want to deliver.

Another pink pretty are the mallow flowers of Rock Rose, Pavonia lasiopetala. These shrubs have blooms all summer, but in fall the pink really pops!

Here are a few more Rock Rose, paired with Goldeneye, Viguiera dentata. These two make a lovely couple!

The Goldeneye are towards the end of their golden glory, but the has-been flowers segue to seed heads and they’re also cute. Flocks of tiny Lesser Goldfinch, as well as sparrows and wrens, nibble on the seeds, spreading them far and wide.

Fall Aster, Symphyotrichum oblongifolium, is great year round: attractive foliage, a sprinkling of happy aster flowers in spring and summer, and withstanding the hottest days and brightest sunshine. In fall, the explosion of purple always makes me smile.

I like it partnered with another plant in the Aster family, Four-nerve daisy, Tetraneuris scaposa and the not-yet-in-bloom Gulf Muhly grass, Muhlenbergia capillaris. It’s hard to beat those cheerful aster faces.

This little bit of Fall Aster is blooming only after being in the ground since August.

It’s at the base of a large Turk’s Cap, Malvaviscus arboreus, (with the large, heart-shaped leaves) and the winter rosette of an up-and-coming, spring blooming native Texas wildflower, Blue Curls, Phacelia congesta. The flowers of the Blue Curls are almost the same color as the Fall Aster, though in a bluer hue.

In a mild year, Mexican Honeysuckle, Justicia spicigera, will flower its orange, pollinator attracting blooms constantly. A hard freeze will knock it back to the ground, but it rallies and by mid-summer is back to its blooming ways. This autumn, it looks good with a young Goldeneye,

…and some (left to right, bottom of photo) White Tropical sage, Salvia coccinea, a Purple Coneflower, and another Texas native perennial, a Texas Craglily, Echeandia texensis.

This Texas Craglily sits in my back garden and is blooming well, even with more shade than it likes.

Last fall, after the tree was cut down, I transplanted four other individual Texas Craglilies from the back to the front garden and they’ve flourished in the heat and sun. They’re delicate looking, with fleshy foliage, but don’t let that fool you: they’re hale and hardy in a sunny space. They die to the ground in winter, return rather late in spring; the foliage looks nearly identical to that of Spiderwort. Lush and neat all summer, bloom stalks develop in September (usually), then orchid-like, orange/yellow blooms sprout all up and down the stalks. Honeybees and a variety of native bees are constant visitors.

The red flowers in the background are blooms on two Autumn Sage, Salvia greggii.

Turk’s Caps have a prolific, long blooming season, but are nearing the end of their flowering cycle. The swirled hibiscus blooms are still bright decorations in the garden. Fruits for the birds are developing, green at first, then red.

Cenizo shrub, Leucophyllum frutescens, sometime referred to as Texas barometer-bush, is blooming, signifying an increase in humidity and the possibility of welcomed rain. A honeybee was busy on the morning of this photo, but wouldn’t cooperate with my photographic efforts.

Finally, my roses stood up to the heat of summer, sometimes blooming, sometimes resting. With cooler temperatures, constant flowering will be the norm until a hard freeze. This Caldwell Pink looks like a bridal bouquet and its fragrance is a dream.

Flowers in fall–it’s a cheerful and hopeful way to end the growing season!

Autumn Garden

Central Texas is deep into its second spring, the autumn blooming bonanza that occurs after summer’s heat abates and rain returns. I’m pleased with the results in my “new” front garden, primarily planted last December and January. The garden thrived in the hot summer, plants surviving and growing, valiantly withstanding heat and drought. With autumn’s arrival and October’s gentler temperatures, plus a smidge of rain–it’s exploded with color and life. Native perennials abloom with nectar and pollen keep pollinators crazy-busy, while native grasses wave their delicate panicles in the wind with grace and elegance.

Who says there’s no autumn color in Texas?

Along the lengthy driveway, bright Plateau Goldeneye, Viguiera dentata, brings sunshine to its spot and contrasts with rich purple Fall Aster, Symphyotrichum oblongifolium. .

Moving away from the street, towards the house, the Aster fronts a Barbados Cherry, Malpighia glabra, not currently in bloom, but always providing lush green cover for birds. Globe Mallow, Sphaeralcea ambigua, its silver foliage a stand-out, complements both Aster and another Goldeneye.

Across the span of driveway cement, more lush Goldeneye towers over orange Mexican Honeysuckle, Justicia spicigera. Both attract various pollinators and provide cover for critters, though the Goldeneye also produces seeds beloved by finches, wrens, sparrows and mammals.

Looking toward the house, blasts of autumn yellow dominate, but there’s also plenty of white, red, blue and pink, buttressed by the large swath of cheery orange Honeysuckle.

Another pairing of Goldeneye and Fall Aster. I do like yellow and purple together!

In the center of the garden, colorful flowers surround: white from Mexican Orchid tree, Bauhinia mexicana, and Tropical Sage, Salvia coccinea; red from several ‘Martha Gonzales’ roses; pink from a ‘Caldwell Pink’ rose; blue from’ Henry Duelberg sage, Salvia farinacea.

Observing the garden’s center from a different angle, we see the back side of the driveway Goldeneye–it’s a big plant. It’s really too big and once the flowers finish and the seeds are devoured (by critters) and sown (by the wind and gravity), I’m yanking it out. I’ll separate bits of each stalk-with-root and replant in other spots where its rangy, floppy character is less cumbersome and more appropriate. It needs space to spread.

The smeary red flower photo bombing this shot is the flower of a Turkscap, Malvaviscus arboreus.

Another dab of autumn pink comes with a cluster of native Rock Rose, Pavonia lasiopetala, paired with a second Mexican Honeysuckle shrub and more ‘Henry Duelberg’ sage. From my shady back garden, I transplanted five individual non-native, but well-adapted Softleaf Yucca, Yucca recurvifolia, and a couple of smaller native Pale-leaf yucca, Yucca pallida. These plants will serve as stalwart evergreen anchors. As expected, they were hot summer champs and flourished in the Texas sun.

To the right of the yucca sits a Texas Beargrass, Nolina texana, which spent many years in a large ceramic container. I was hiking at Enchanted Rock last October and along the trails around the rock, noticed plenty of arching, shapely Beargrass clumps throughout the sun-blasted landscape. I’d always kept my potted Beargrass in shade/part shade, but inspired by the beauty of those Beargrass individuals full sun with no water, decided to pull mine out of the pot and plant it directly in the sunny garden. It was a bear (yuk!) to remove, but has settled nicely into its new home. It bloomed in the container, it’ll be interesting to see if it blooms in the ground.

The ridiculously brilliant pink-in-the-pot is a bougainvillea. It sits on the stump of the removed Arizona Ash tree. Bougainvillea love the heat, bloom magnificently from May through November, but will be safely tucked away in the garage for winter. Maybe I’ll find a garden gnome to be the winter stump care-taker.

Throughout the garden, wispy Mexican Feathergrass accompanies flowering perennials, but they’ve all gone toasty, as they do, in autumn.

I’ve always loved silver and grey foliage and with a full sun situation, now indulge this passion. I planted several Globe Mallows and a couple of native Wooly Butterflybush, Buddleja marrubiifolia. The mallows develop in a tidy, round form while the Wooly Butterfly bushes grow vertically, often in a wonky, decidedly non-tidy, shape. That’s fine with me, I rarely turn wonky away.

I’m thrilled with the six gorgeous Gulf Muhly, Muhlenbergia capillaris, I can now grow, thanks to the blasting sun. A pretty, tough green-foliaged thing in spring and summer, autumn sees the plants’ flower spikes become feathery and frothy in stunning pink/purple hue.

I’ve had a few Lindheimer’s Muhly, Muhlenbergia lindheimeri, grasses for several years, but was able to add a couple more. I mean, why wouldn’t I?

This garden is a beacon for bees (native and honey), butterflies and moths, and birds, many and active. I love my shadier, sedate back garden, but the colors, forms, and textures in this sun-drenched space are worth the end of a dying tree and the efforts involved in re-imagining this area. I’ve made some mistakes (duh!) and will move a few things this winter, but I’m happy with the garden’s progress.

In this garden, second spring equals autumn color!

Thanks, Wildflower Nymphs

Every year for most of the past decade, I find a wildflower in my garden that I didn’t plant. Each year it’s a different wildflower and typically not repeated by either seed or root during the next growing cycle. The wildflowers have all been Texas natives, usually spring or spring/summer bloomers. Each plant has appeared in a different spot: some in the back garden, some in the front; a few popped up in containers where other things were housed, and several have grown along the southern side of my house, where there isn’t much of a garden, only a utilitarian pathway.

Where do these garden gifts come from? Maybe birds have dropped seed by way of their excrement, maybe seeds wafted into my garden space from the wind. Perhaps, wildflower nymphs, being such quirky critters, choose to leave me something new and unique to my garden– just because they can.

This year, Texas Thistle, Cirsium texanum, was the wildflower nymphs’ gift of choice.

This pretty-in-pink flower bloomed in June and July, having arrived as an attractive, though prickly, evergreen rosette. Trust me when I say that those prickles HURT! Actually, the wildflower nymphs left the rosette last year, but no flowers appeared, as Texas Thistle is a biennial, blooming in its second year. I was aware of the rosette last year, but left it alone and unidentified.

While I never observed any eggs or larvae on this foliage, the Texas Thistle is a host plant for the Painted Lady butterfly, Vanessa cardui. Indeed, I enjoyed the presence of several flitting Painted Ladies earlier this summer. Thanks , Texas Thistle, I’m glad someone likes that foliage!

Bright blooms develop atop stems with few leaves, about 18 inches from the base of the plant. Once open, they resemble deep pink Koosh balls.

Insects, especially native bees, are big fans of this plant. Here, a Leaf-footed bug, Leptoglossus, and its nymph (immature form of the bug), rest on a bud. They were probably doing some bug-like slurping, but I didn’t see any damage to the bud or plant.

I didn’t bother the bugs. Generally speaking, I let bugs be bugs; mostly, they’re harmless.

In the information about Texas Thistle from the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center website, the bumble bee is specifically mentioned as a frequent pollinator of thistles’ disk blooms. Lots of bumbles have graced my garden this year, though I observed none of them on the thistle flowers. However, other native bees relished the nectar offered and picked up pollen as they worked the blooms. I’m not sure what species of native bee this little one is, but its pollen pantaloons are packed with rich pollen, gifts from the flower.

Most years, the wildflower nymphs have gifted one individual plant of one species. This year, there were two thistles that magically bloomed: the one of this post, growing in full sun along the side of my house, and a second, in a pot of variegated American Agave, in part shade, in my back garden. That one didn’t produce as many flowers as this one, but both completed their life cycles; I hope that the seeds will assure some thistles in my garden in future seasons. Also, the other nymph wildflower gifts have been annuals, but as mentioned, Texas Thistle is a biennial, 2022 its year to flower. Those wildflower nymphs, they like to mix-it-up and keep me guessing.

So, wildflower nymphs–what will it be for 2023? I await your gift(s)!