Two for the Dandelion Man

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Texas dandelions already are lining country roadsides 

The so-called Texas dandelion, known more formally as the small-flower desert-chicory (Pyrrhopappus pauciflorus), shares a number of characteristics with the common dandelions (Taxaracum officinale) that signal the arrival of spring in much of the United States. Native to Eurasia, common dandelions have naturalized widely: a fact welcomed by some and despised by others. The small-flower desert chicory, on the other hand, is found primarily in Texas, Louisiana, Oklahoma, and New Mexico.

Both plants bear yellow flowers, and both exhibit the jagged leaves that gave rise to the plants’ name; ‘dandelion’ comes from the French dent de lion, or ‘lion’s tooth.’ While common dandelions remain open for most of the day, Texas dandelions open early and close by noon or early afternoon. Entire fields of that plant can seem to disappear between breakfast and lunch; both flowers will close on rainy or especially cloudy days. 

Masses of the Texas dandelion lined Highway 3 outside Dickinson on February 21; that same day, common dandelions were scattered through sections of the Dudney Nature Center in League City. Seeing them brought to mind some words from Wendell Berry in the documentary film Look & See: A Portrait of Wendell Berry:

The world is in fact full of free things that are delightful. Flowers. The world is also full of people who would rather pay for something to kill the dandelions than to appreciate the dandelions. Well, I’m a dandelion man myself.
An explosion of common dandelions certainly suits local pollinators

 

Comments always are welcome.

Speaking of Dewberries

~ shoreacres ~ 34 Comments
Southern dewberry ~ Dudney Nature Center

When I mentioned the occasional pink buds-to-white flowers development of our local dewberries in my previous post, I didn’t expect to find dewberries in bloom four days later. But their season of flowering generally is considered to be March and April, and we’re close enough to March that I shouldn’t have been surprised.

There certainly is nothing trivial about this berry, which bears the scientific name Rubus trivialis. As soon as I saw the scattered flowers, I began imagining the berries to come, not to mention the obligatory cobblers and jams. As I made my way through the thicket of canes for photos, I also remembered a second non-trivial aspect of the plant: the recurved thorns (or prickles) that can stop a berry picker or photographer in their tracks. 

The dewberries’ Jabberwock-like ‘claws,’ ready to snatch and catch

On this day, I was doubly pleased: both to find the flowers, and to finally extricate myself without damage from vines that had tempted me just a little too close.

Comments always are welcome.

From Pink to White ~ A Spring Delight

~ shoreacres ~ 36 Comments
Walter’s virburnum ~ Armand Bayou Nature Center

Spring’s colorful flowers always are welcome, but the reappearance of the white flowers I favor provide equal pleasure: anemones, dewberries, spider lilies, coastal germander.

Sometimes, of course, I can be surprised. On February 15 at the Armand Bayou Nature Center, a shrub just coming into bloom caught my eye; it reminded me of bridal wreath spirea, but on closer inspection only the color of the flowers was the same. Eventually, I learned that I’d come across Walter’s viburnum (Virburnum obovatum), a plant whose common name honors Thomas Walter (c.1740-89), an English-born botanist who came to live in South Carolina and who described this species in his Flora Caroliniana, the first document in a region of North America to utilize the Linnaean system of classification.

The shrub was filled with buds that, in full flowering, will help to explain another common name for the plant: Florida snow. The transformation of light pink buds into pristine white flowers reminds me of dewberries, which often show the same pink and white combination as their flowers develop.

A larval host for the spring azure butterfly (Celastrina ladon), Walter’s viburnum resembles other species in the genus by attracting a wide range of pollinators with scents promising a nectar or pollen reward. Most viburnums produce very little nectar; the primary reward, especially for bees, is pollen. In time, birds and other wildlife will consume the small fruits that develop: red at first, and then black.

Attractive as these flowers are, they also stand as a reminder to begin looking for another native species:Viburnum rufidulum, or rusty blackhaw. I found one of those dramatically larger trees in bloom at Brazos Bend in March, and March is nearly here.

Comments always are welcome.

The Sun Seekers

~ shoreacres ~ 43 Comments
American alligator ~ Alligator mississippiensis

If you’re anxious for blue skies, light breezes, and spring’s moderating temperatures, you’re not alone. Retreating before winter’s onslaught, the cold-blooded among us took to mud, rock crevices, and brushpiles to protect themselves from the unforgiving season. Now, lengthening days and sunlit hours are tempting the reptiles into the open, ready to bask in the rising warmth.

In southeast Texas, the sight of an alligator basking on a bayou bank is as sure a sign of spring as  dandelions or daffodils. Alligators don’t hibernate, but when cold weather comes calling, they undergo a period of dormancy called brumation. As temperatures drop, they excavate tunnels or depressions in the mud to serve as winter retreats. Once the temperature drops below 70 degrees, they stop feeding; below about 55 degrees they enter dormancy, slowing their metabolism and becoming lethargic. 

Alligators brumating on the bottom of bayous or swamps still are able to respond to temperature changes and to move; from time to time they’ll resurface to breathe. Occasionally one can be spotted with only its nostrils visible while it catches some breath before slowly sinking back into its protective mud. 

Red-eared slider ~ Trachemys scripta elegans

Red-eared sliders, Texas’s most common aquatic turtle, prefer quiet, slow-moving waters with mud bottoms, but they’re highly adaptable and can tolerate anything from brackish waters to man-made ponds. Like alligators, they’re cold-blooded and rarely leave the water except to bask, sunning themselves on convenient rocks and logs.

Basking turtles also remain buried in mud during the winter months, living off stored fat deposits while their metabolism slows. Below 50 degrees,  they become nearly motionless, rising to the surface only occasionally for food, water, or air.  On especially warm days they may become active, leaving the water to bask at the surface, but when the temperature drops, they return to the mud and a state of brumation.

Northern cottonmouth ~ Agkistrodon piscivorus 

It’s common enough for rattlesnakes to emerge and prowl Galveston’s dunes on warm winter days, but the presence of a northern cottonmouth on a Brazoria Wildlife Refuge road was unexpected. Also known as water moccasins, these snakes can be found around swamps, sloughs, irrigation ditches, rice fields, and salt marshes.

As temperatures drop, they also enter brumation, sheltering underground or in isolated crevices to wait out the cold. Like alligators and turtles, they don’t fully sleep, but they become much slower and less active: not eating, but taking an occasional drink of water, or venturing out to warm themselves in a sunny spot. 

Snake sightings are less common in winter than in spring and summer, but on sunny days after cold nights, it’s worth watching for them.

Not a snake in the grass, but a sunning snake in the gravel

Another common Texas reptile, this fine example of what I take to be a prairie lizard (Sceloporus consobrinus) inhabits grasslands with sparse vegetation, open canopy oak-hickory forests, and sandy soils of upland pine forests like those found in the Big Thicket.  

Generally terrestrial, it will climb logs, fence posts, and trees to escape danger, and often basks on fallen debris or rocks as it takes in the winter sun. Otherwise, like its reptilian friends, it seeks shelter in burrows and engages in brumation when conditions turn cold, waiting like multitudes of humans to enjoy another season in the sun.

East Texas lizard ~ Definitely Sceloporus, and possibly consobrinus

 

Comments always are welcome.

A New Season of Looking

~ shoreacres ~ 39 Comments
Common yellow woodsorrel ~ Oxalis stricta

Thanks to commercial landscapers and enthusiastic gardeners, coastal Texas rarely is bereft of color during the winter months. Pansies, petunias, and snapdragons galore add pleasing accents to shrubs and trees that remain green throughout the season. That said, the emergence of dependable natives, like this trio I found on February 9 at the Dudney Nature Center, provides a different sort of pleasure.

One of several woodsorrel species in southeast Texas, the bright spots of yellow provided by Oxalis stricta are an early delight; pink-flowered species will come later.

While occasional crow poison flowers can be found throughout the winter, their numbers increase dramatically in spring, and their color brightens. They’re sometimes called false garlic because of their appearance, but they lack any garlic scent.

Crow poison ~ Nothoscordum bivalve

One of my favorite early spring flowers is Texas umbrellawort. An endemic, it’s listed for only a few counties in the state. Although it hasn’t yet been listed for Galveston county, it most assuredly is here, blooming early and dependably at the Dudney Nature Center.

Still quite small, these early Tauschias will develop stems as much as a foot tall, as well as multiple clusters of blooms. For now, their appearance is a sign that spring truly is arriving, and it’s time to begin looking for the glories that will follow.

Texas umbrellawort ~ Tauschia texana
The singular and cheerful life
of any flower
in anyone’s garden
or any still unowned field–
(if there are any)
catches me
by the heart
by its color,
by its obedience
to the holiest of laws:
be alive
until you are not.
Ragweed,
pale violet bull thistle,
morning glories curling
through the field corn;
those princes of everything green–
the grasses
of which there are truly
an uncountable company,
each on its singular stem
striving
to rise and ripen.
What, in the earth world,
is there not to be amazed by
and to be steadied by
and to cherish?
Oh, my dear heart,
full of hesitations,
questions, choice of directions,
look at the world.
Behold the morning glory,
the meanest flower, the ragweed, the thistle.
Look at the grass.
                        ~ Mary Oliver

Comments always are welcome.