Small Coastal Germander and the Pollinator Party

I first became acquainted with the Small Coastal Germander, Teucrium cubense, when one magically emerged underneath a Brazos blackberry vine in my garden about 10 years ago. Diminutive snowy blooms sparkled along the stems, the foliage suggesting a member of the mint family (it is a Lamiaceae). It took me a while to figure out who this stranger was, but I was delighted to learn that it’s native to Texas, other southern states, plus areas a bit westward. The germander grew and bloomed in that spot for a couple of years, then left my garden as mysteriously as it originally appeared.

Fast-forward a few years, add a devastating February freeze, followed by an old, severely damaged Arizona Ash tree removed, and the minty germander planted itself in my newly minted full-sun garden. This tidy little ground cover, evergreen in winter and decorated with delicate white pops throughout our long growing season, is not only cute, but a pollinator magnate as well.

One afternoon a few weeks back, I sat in the garden and observed the activity surrounding this rewarding plant. This germander has quite a following! There were dozens of flitty, crawly things, all honing in on the bounty offered by the blooms. The air surrounding the germander teemed with life, gentle buzzing the song of insect labor. Honeybees were the largest of the pollinators, sometimes muscling the smaller insects off of a bloom, stingy for their share of the flowers’ goods.

There were at least two species of wasps attending the pollinator party. A number of Mexican Honey Wasps, Brachygastra mellifica, Euodynerus, Potter wasps, dressed up in their yellow-n-brown stripes, added their particular beauty to the germander as they sipped and flit.

This one concentrates on its meal, wings closed.

A different wasp, Pitted Mason Wasps, Euodynerus foraminatus, also fed from the germander. Smaller and less stripey than the honey wasp, they made their presence known, gracefully moving from stem to stem, bloom to bloom.

Beetles are also in the pollination business, especially so with this germander. In looking through various sites and gobs of beetle photos, I’m still unsure what beetle this is, but several of its kind worked the blooms. Their shiny blue-black coloring contrasts with the pure white flowers.

Another kind of beetle, brown and nondescript and much smaller, is unfamiliar to me, but all-in with these blooms. This bit of brown that isn’t in a clear photo, worked blooms along with plenty of its buddies, all proboscis-focused on the flowers.

I didn’t manage any good captures of native bees who also liked the germander, but saw plenty tiny Lasioglossum, or Sweat bees flying, landing, and pollinating.

Coastal Germander holds its own in the hot-colored, full-sun garden, its cool white flowers and rich green foliage a balm in the mid-spring flower-power show. It visually pleases humans and softens the louder colors of the garden.

Coastal Germander’s most important role is as sustenance for many insects, the true calling of plants and their reason for existing. Plants and insects evolved together and are partners in the diverse quality of life for all ecosystems.

Side Eye

This Green Anole, Anolis carolinensis, delivered a side eye as I ambled through my garden and greeted him with a cheery hey there, buddy!

He displayed his dewlap once or twice during our one-sided conversation, whether in competition or flirtation, I won’t make a guess.

I moved on with my chores and he continued his exploration of the Softleaf Yucca foliage, but kept a wary eye on my movements.

Beauty in the Rough

The sandpaper feel of its foliage is what gives Roughleaf Dogwood, Cornus drummondii, its common name. I’ve always thought that the beauty of this small tree deserved a more poetic name, perhaps in praise of its graceful form or lauding its creamy blooms and fruits.

Regardless, I’m pleased to house two of these lovelies in my back garden. Excellent wildlife plants, these little trees are the gifts that keep on giving: pollinator magnet blooms, lush foliage for wildlife cover, hardy-drought resistant additions to the garden, yummy fruits for native and migrating birds, and purple-to-mauve-to-pink golden fall color for all to admire.

The petite flowers bloom in mounds from March through May. Mine are mostly done.

The flowers attract a wide variety of pollinators. Each blooming season seems to host one particular kind of insect as the primary sipper of the good stuff. Last year, I recall that different species of syrphid flies were 2024’s insects of rough-leaf choice. In other years, migrating Monarchs have stopped by in decent numbers. Always, the home-grown honeybees partake of the dogwood’s offerings.

This blooming season it was iridescent Blow Flies, Calliphoridae, who were the primary beneficiaries of the nectar and pollen of the dogwood blooms. There were others who pollinated, like our resident honeybees, and I viewed some smaller butterflies at the flowers, but the Blow flies were the most numerous visitors.

Once the flowers have bloomed and provided, the beginnings of the berries is nigh.

In this photo, note the assorted stages: in the lower background, buds are just opening; in the foreground, flowers that are done, leaving the ovaries to become fruits; and to the right, an uneaten fruit from last season. In the course of rain, heat, ice, and wind the once-luscious berry is darkened, hard, and presumably unappetizing.

These are a few of the fruit sets from this spring’s floral bounty.

By August, the small green spheres will grow larger and milky-white. Blue Jays, Northern Mockingbirds, migrating neo-tropical birds, plus squirrels and other mammals will feast on juicy fruits. The fruits of the dogwood are drupes: skin with a fleshy outside and seeds inside. Drupe is a fun word.

As summer arrives, revving up its hot-rod heat, these little trees will remain green and lush. Birds will rest and hide, and berries will ripen for late summer/autumn snacks.

Wildlife is sustained, the gardener smiles.