Curls-n-Caterpillars

I love my curls.

Tiny blue flowers open from the curl.

I also love my caterpillars.

Blue curls, or Caterpillars,  Phacelia congesta, are charming spring garden additions here in Texas and neighbors, Oklahoma and New Mexico.   Native to this region, Blue curls are wildflowers worth having.  A low-growing, deer resistant herb, this springtime bloomer has performed as an annual in my garden.   The ‘curls’ part of the name is because as the diminutive flowers develop and open, they unfurl from a coiled position.  As well, the row of unopened buds evoke the curled position of caterpillars, thus the second of the common names.

Blue curl “caterpillars” flank the open flowers.

I prefer blue curls, but both names are descriptive; it’s an aptly named plant!

I’ve experienced problems with germination–sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t–but on the handful of occasions when the plant successfully seeds out and blossoms to blooming, Blue curls haven’t disappointed. Two years ago during the latter part of winter, I noticed a “weed” growing in a pot in the back garden.

I don’t yank until I’m sure an unknown is an unwanted, so I watched.  During the time that I watched and waited, a friend extolled the virtues of the Blue curls she grows in her garden, kindly offering to me some of her seedlings.  An enthusiastic “yes” was my answer to her offer, and what she gave me was exactly the thing that was growing in the pot.

Blue curls, all around!

I planted the two gifted curls near the bird or wind planted volunteer, and the three individual plants thrived and bloomed in spring.

Caterpillar stage.

Blooming stage!

Such darling flowers: unusual construction (“Compound Cyme” according the the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center), and truly gorgeous in color and form.

I adore blue flowers.  I can only imagine what Blue curls look like, en masse, in a Texas Hill Country field.  For several years, during April and May, I’ve enjoyed viewing a small cluster of these blue beauties growing alongside a bike path that I regularly ride.  City mowers and street construction hasn’t yet destroyed the wildflowers along that particular street.

I also like the foliage of this wildflower;  I’m a sucker for deeply lobed, bright green leaves.

Pre-blossom foliage. The leaves look like those of a tomato plant.

The leaves become a bit tatty toward the end of their days.

Post-blossom foliage.

Two years ago, I dutifully allowed the plants to seed out, then sprinkled the seeds and chaff in various parts of my garden.  The next winter and spring, no Blue Curl seedlings appeared in my garden. Drat–no gorgeous Blue curl wave.  Nada, zilch, nothin’.

I whined to my friend, who graciously supplied me with more seeds. I spread some (not all) of  the seeds out last autumn, and voila!, this spring a grand total of four plants germinated.  One disappeared–subjected, no doubt, to someone’s late night munchies; another, I stepped on and crushed–yes, sometimes I am that careless.  But two survived; I transplanted both to better spots, and they grew to blooming beauty!  Unfortunately, the peak of flowering occurred during the first half of May when I was traveling, though I did get some enjoyment from these pretties as the first dainty blues opened shortly before I left.

In my absence, the pollinators spent a few weeks sipping from Blue curl goodness.  A good pollinator plant, I’ve observed tiny native bees feeding, though the literature suggests that Blue curls attract butterflies, too.

My two Blue curl individuals are now wrapping up their life activities and I will leave them to their own seed dispersal.

I have seeds from my friend and plan to add more to the garden next autumn for spring 2019. I’d love to have a greater number of these sweet little spring wildflowers as they are care-free once germinated, (unless stepped on–ahem), and they fit in a variety of light situations, though probably not deep shade.

But the Blue curls will do whatever they choose to do–and I’ll enjoy what they’re willing to give the garden, and the gardener.

This photo is one of my blog banner photos.

March to Spring!

Here in Austin, Texas (zone 8b), gardener giddiness is palpable.  Gardens and wild spaces are greening up and blossoming out.  It’s March!  Spring–visual and meteorological–is imminent, and daily garden evolution attests to that reality.  The first blooms in my garden have appeared and are set to lead the botanical charge for a new growing season.

Giant spiderwort, Tradescantia gigantea, is a native wildflower and a reliable early bloomer.  Individual plants take their turns blooming, feeding pollinators, and setting seeds throughout the spring months.  Summer heat renders Spiderwort dormant.

Rainfall is welcome for new spring blooms.

 

Globe mallowSpaeralcea ambigua, is not native to Central Texas, but instead, to points west.  In full sun and with good drainage, this gorgeous shrub is a cool season bloomer in Central Texas.

A hungry honeybee joined me in admiration of the blooms; I looked and admired, but she has more “wings” in the game.

When she flew off (to one of my backyard hives?), she was covered in pollen!

More blooming goodness is on the way–for honeybees and all other pollinators– awakening from winter and revving their pollinating engines.

Happy March! Happy Spring!

A Ballyhoo for Spiderwort

Texas is well-known for its spring wildflowers: BluebonnetLupinus texensis

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Pink evening primroseOenothera speciosa,

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FirewheelGaillardia pulchella,

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…and so many others. Folks from far and wide travel to Texas to view the spring wildflower show. In a good year, open spaces and home gardens are resplendent with color from all parts of the color wheel.

I don’t grow any of the famed Texas wildflowers in my personal garden. Alas, my soil is too heavy and my space too shady for the prairy/grassland flowers that most identify as quintessential Texas wildflowers.  But I certainly love and grow many other native Texas plants and wildflowers and a favorite in bloom right now is a group belonging to the Commelinaceae family–the pride of purple–Tradescantia or Spiderwort.

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There are 19 species of Tradescantia throughout North America, almost half of which reside in Texas.  A woodlands plant, Spiderwort thrive in a variety of soils, but generally prefer part-shade to shade exposure, though it grows well in more sunny conditions, too.  In short, it’s not a picky plant.

I can’t tell you exactly which one of the Tradescantia that are in my gardens because different Spiderwort mix-n-match with one another, hybridizing readily and creating variations in color,

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…height,

…and petal shape.

A simple Spiderwort petal,

A simple Spiderwort petal,

...and a more ruffly form.

…and a more ruffly form.

I started with several individuals gifted to me a few years ago and they’ve self-seeded with aplomb.  Some clumps of these purple zingers trend very purple,

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…and others lean-to the lavender side of things.

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I think the majority of my Spiderwort plants are the Giant spiderwortTradescantia gigantea,  if only because most of them are just so darned tall.

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And so darned purple.

Spiderwort pop up in the late fall or winter, sporting grass-like foliage; during the cool season the foliage grows and thickens.

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As the days lengthen and temperatures warm, fleshy stalks shoot up from the base of the foliage.

A Spiderwort bloom stalk arises.

A Spiderwort bloom stalk arises.

In time, bloom clusters form atop those bloom stalks and purple play begins!

Spiderwort in blooming tandem with Lyreleaf sage, Salvia lyrata.

Spiderwort in blooming tandem with Lyreleaf sage, Salvia lyrata.

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In my garden, Spiderwort blooms for  a rather long period.  Often, the flowering begins at the first of March (if not sooner) and continues well through May. Spiderwort plants are best situated in a more casual garden, though if kept in check, it’s a plant that could work beautifully in a formal setting.  The key phrase is kept in check. Tradescantia re-seed with abandon and can prove weedy and thuggish if allowed to seed out ungoverned. You MUST weed wayward seedlings if they grow where they’re not wanted!  A good time to discipline these rogue germinators  is in winter and early spring, as the seedlings emerge.

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Spiderwort seedlings alongside sprinkled spent blooms of White Tropical sage, Salvia coccinea.

Spiderwort seedlings alongside sprinkled spent blooms of White Tropical sage, Salvia coccinea.

If I see a mother plant and scads of babies at her feet AND I don’t want them–out they go! The seedlings are easily removed by hand or with a weeding tool.

The mother Spiderwort is toward the top right of the photo, her progeny are everywhere else.

The mother Spiderwort is at the top right of the photo, her progeny are everywhere else.

Another strategy is to nip Spiderwort in the bud during the blooming season.  Once I notice less flower production, it means that the seeds are developing and it’s time to snip.P1030500.new

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Most of these bloom clusters are ready for seed.

Most of these bloom clusters are ready for seed.

I prune the flower stalks down to the base of the grassy foliage to lessen the spread of the prolific re-seeders.

A just pruned Spiderwort at the end of its bloom cycle.

A just pruned Spiderwort at the end of its bloom cycle.

I’m brutal with this process because I know that if I’m the least bit kind-hearted, Spiderworts will be everywhere in the garden.  I still get plenty of new seedlings each year, but keeping Spiderworts in check prevents mayhem in the garden of the Spiderwort variety.

Despite its mission to spread, Spiderworts are valuable to pollinators and pretty  for me to relish, and therefore, welcome in my garden–with practical limitations of course. Honeybees adore this plant and Tradescantia are visited by native bees and butterflies too.

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A buzzing honeybee sharing Spiderwort pollen with a Syrphid fly.

A buzzing honeybee sharing Spiderwort pollen with a Syrphid fly.

From A Seasonal Look perspective, Spiderwort are primarily winter and spring plants. In a wet and cool autumn, the foliage will emerge early; in a wet and cool early summer, the blooms might last into June, the foliage a little longer.  But once the heat of summer sets in and Spiderwort flowers have bowed out and relinquished the flower show to the heat lovers, the foliage…fades away.  I can’t honestly say exactly when the foliage is no more–but eventually, it disappears.  One of my strategies in planting for seasonal flowering is to plant early spring bloomers underneath the larger summer/fall blooming/berrying shrubs (many of which are herbaceous perennials).  I’m certain that those particular Spiderwort plants hang on for a while after the peak of their blooms, shadowed and covered by the limbs of summer/fall plants.  Since the Spiderwort plants are sheltered by the spread and height of the summer shrubs and perennials, I don’t notice what they’re doing–and I won’t notice (or think about) those Spiderwort plants again until winter’s first freeze renders the deciduous perennials inconsequential and the tell-tale grassy foliage of Spiderwort emerges from the chilled soil.  The caveat is that many of the unwanted Spiderwort in my garden occur because I neglect to deadhead those soon-to-disappear-under-larger-plants Spiderworts.  That’s the downside of planting them underneath larger plants: out of sight, out of mind.

Spring blooming Spiderwort growing amidst Frostweed, Verbesina virginica and Yellow bells, Tacoma stans. Both of these larger perennials will cover the Spiderwort by early summer.

Spring blooming Spiderwort growing amidst Frostweed, Verbesina virginica and Yellow bells, Tacoma stans. Both of these larger perennials will cover the Spiderwort by early summer.

Spring blooming Spiderwort will be overtaken by the rapidly growing Turk's cap, Malvaviscus arboreus.

Spring blooming Spiderwort will be overtaken by the rapidly growing Turk’s cap, Malvaviscus arboreus.

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Spiderwort planted underneath a White mistflower, Ageratina havanensis. Most years, the Mistflower freezes to the ground, or nearly so, allowing the Spiderwort a good late winter and spring show.

Spiderwort planted underneath a White mistflower, Ageratina havanensis. Most years, the Mistflower freezes to the ground, or nearly so, allowing the Spiderwort a good late winter and spring show.

For those free-standing Spiderwort individuals that drag into summer, their seasonal end is more obvious.

A self-seeded Spiderwort beside the pond. By late May, the bloom stalks will be pruned and by mid-summer, the foliage will wilt and the gardener will prune the foliage to the soil and toss in the compost bin.

A self-seeded Spiderwort beside the pond. By late May, the bloom stalks will be pruned and by mid-summer, the foliage will wilt and the gardener will prune the foliage to the soil and toss in the compost bin.

What typically happens is that sometime in June or July, they become terribly droopy and sad–heat is not a friend to Spiderwort plants.  I relieve any Spiderwort misery with my trusty Felco pruning shears, cutting down the remaining, sad foliage to the soil. The roots stay safe in the ground until more convivial conditions present and ready the Spiderwort story to begin again: lush winter foliage and enchanting spring flowers.

If  basic preventative pruning and/or seedling weeding is employed, Spiderwort is a desirable spring wildflower for the garden with its lovely foliage and flowers, attraction for many pollinators, and easy growing habit.  What’s not to enjoy about Spiderwort?

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I appreciate the winter foliage and spring flowers–and who wouldn’t?

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