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Treemageddon in Texas

Visitors to Austin are usually surprised by how green it appears, especially when they're looking down into a canyon full of Texas (or Escarpment) live oaks, Quercus fuisiformis .  Over the past few days, those live oaks have been creating a symphony of deep popping, crashing sounds as their leafy canopies and limbs became heavy with ice, causing them to split and crash to the ground. It's not pretty.  It's not fun.  But an energetic person with heavy gloves and a chainsaw could put a couple of kids through college by digging us all out.  It would seem many are doing just that.   On a personal level, I learned a few things. First, my neighbor's elm has looked like it's been on its last limb for at least five years now.  We've mentioned the very large, dangling limb that could fall with a slight breeze.  She ignored us.  She seemed to decide we were evil as a result.  Interactions became somewhat chilly.  And yet, when that and another enormous branch became ice
Recent posts

Some Treats to Make You Come in From the Heat and Rest a While!

  Here's a link to the story of how a wildlife film maker in Bristol, England, made use of his time during the COVID lockdown, and the discoveries he was able to make in his own yard.  Grab your bowl of popcorn and click here to enjoy!  The sounds are almost as good as the photography. After you've enjoyed that visual feast, you might hop over to Sam Drogge's "Eye Candy" page on flickr .  His bee pictures allow you to get up close and personal with many of our native bees. And if you haven't already heard of Carol Leonardi Clark - as a Texas Master Naturalist, a very active member of the Native Plant Society of Texas, as a Monarch Steward working tirelessly as chairperson to Bring Back the Monarchs to Texas, as a math coach, or as an amazing photographer - well, let me hurry up and make the introduction!  As you can tell from the few of her many "hats" mentioned here, she's an incredible advocate for the natural world, especially here

Seasons are Changing on Subscribing

  You are clearly a discerning group.  There are less than 100 of you and I'm deeply grateful for each and every one.  However, I'm about to lose all of you.   Blogger's "easy to follow instructions" to export my subscribers to a CSV don't seem to apply to me, even though I actually do know what a CSV listing is. After searching every single aspect of my blog, every bit of minutiae behind the curtain,  I found a list of "followers".  But there was no "Analyze", no "Email Subscriptions", nor "Manage Your Email Subscriber List" to open a new page to then export. So here's my request for a early fall/late summer activity.  Once Blogger gets its subscribe feature working again, or  I decide it's worth a move to WordPress, could I  possibly trouble you to follow me again some day? I'd be ever so grateful.  Otherwise, hope to see you at a Garden Bloggers Fling or even out gardening. See you again soon and thank you

Pollinator Passion

There HAVE actually been some good things happen in 2020.   One for me was being fortunate to join a small group working to certify Austin as a Bee City through the Xerces Society.  As part of that effort, we've formed Pollinate Austin - PollinATX for short - and, of course, I wanted to share it with you. We intend to publish a newsletter with articles we're sure you'll find of interest.  We'll link to events and resources within our community as well as simply delight in our favorite "gateway bugs" (yes, they're not true bugs but well, you know.)  If you share our passion, you'll want to be part of the fun. Subscribe to the newsletter here:  https://forms.gle/VcYiKxqmi618PjBSA And follow us on Facebook here:  https://www.facebook.com/PollinATX     Looking forward to seeing you!

Wildflower Wednesday - Ironweed

Ironweed  Vernonia fasciculata is my pick for Wildflower Wednesday  as it's just starting to bloom in my garden and is one of my all-time favorites.  One look at that color, and its mop of flowers often covered with bees, and I knew it belonged in my garden. But where to find it?  As with too many native plants, it wasn't available locally so I deployed an even better option - found it in a field slated for commercial development, asked permission,  and "rescued" several. It took a couple of years to seem happy, but now it dies to the ground each winter only to return the following late spring/early summer to make me and the bees happy. Evidently ironweed doesn't make everyone happy.  Check out this quote I found online:    " Ironweed  was  named  for its rugged stalks, which stubbornly persist throughout the winter. Its underground stems are equally tenacious, sending up sprouts even when repeatedly mowed. The plant's vivid purple

The Welcome Mat

Each year as the Monarchs funnel through Central Texas on their way to Mexico's oyamel forests for the winter, I hope they see my welcome mat.  It's a small multi-colored spot in the midst of the green  suburban lawns and brown pastures surrounding me.  Nectar producing plants are planted in clumps at least 3 feet wide to increase visibility for my anticipated guests, and offered in a variety of colors to appeal to many eyes - both single and compound. At the beginning of this 2019 fall migration, the mistflowers were the big draw.  They create a long early swath of blue in the front yard that gives way beyond the Turk's cap ( Malvaviscus arboreus ) to a tall blue mistflower that threatens to climb the six foot tall fence in the back.  The blue in front is Gregg's blue ( Conoclinium greggii ) and the tall one remains a mystery that was sold to me as "fragrant mistflower".  Just as they fade, the shrubby boneset ( Eupatorium havanense ) fires up on the

Gardening in Air Soup

This morning I stepped outside and was met with a solid wall of hot air, stifling enough to convince me to go right back inside to complain about it.  Motivated by the sight of a gasping oak leaf hydrangea, a bit later I headed out again.  Honestly the air was so thick, I wondered why no Texan had yet developed something like diving apparatus to allow us to breathe in the summer heat.  Oh right, I remember, it's called air conditioning, but I've yet to figure out how to take it outside with me. This is summer gardening in Central Texas - a little time snatched from the crack of dawn,  short mid-day forays faster than an anole's tongue out and back again,  then a final exhaustive push to finish in the afternoon when the heat has built up but you do it anyway before collapsing in a soggy heap.  It's when 90 degrees is considered a cold front. So you've probably already figured out there won't be any pictures of cheerful, healthy posies in this post.  Th