Blue, Bluer, and Bluest-Eyed Grass

~ shoreacres ~ 5 Comments

I’ve come to prefer native wildflowers to commercially-grown Easter lilies as tokens of the day. When I featured white variants of our lovely blue-eyed grass (Sisyrinchium angustifolium) in my Easter post, one commenter asked, “Do they appear side by side with the blue-flowered ones?” Indeed, they do. The mix shown in the photo above is typical of what I found when I discovered great numbers of the flowers on March 20.

Naming the color of these flowers isn’t as simple as calling them ‘blue’ or ‘white,’ however. Roaming among the flowers, I discovered several shades of blue that pleased equally. Some were barely blue: as pale as the color sometimes called ‘ice blue.’

Others, slightly darker, displayed noticeably blue veining in their petals.

Most typically, the flowers are a consistent, medium blue that sometimes appears to create a blue haze just above the ground when they appear in large numbers.

While finding white blue-eyed grass flowers always is a treat, I was equally surprised to discover a cluster of blooms showing off the most deeply saturated blue I’d ever seen. Clearly, as with other members of the iris family to which they belong, color variation is one of their most pleasing qualities.

 

Comments always are welcome.

Easter Beauty

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A surprising discovery at the Lin Sohn Buddhist temple in Dickinson, Texas

Perhaps no flower is more closely associated with Easter than the white trumpet-shaped blooms of Lilium longiflorum. Native to three southern islands of Japan, the flower already was being cultivated in China and Japan when early Western explorers reached the area.

In 1777, Swedish naturalist and associate of Carl Linneaus Carl Peter Thunberg discovered the lily, and sent samples to England. By the 1880’s, bulbs were being grown commercially in Bermuda for shipment to the US, and the rest, as they say, is history. Today, most Easter lilies found in stores or on church altars are produced by growers in a narrow region of the California-Oregon border. 

From my perspective, white variants of the Texas native known as blue-eyed grass (Sisyrinchium spp.) provide a wonderful alternative to traditional Easter lilies, although they won’t be found in stores or on altars. Members of the iris family, they appear in early spring along roadsides, in fields, and wherever nature is allowed to have her way: as pure and elegant a symbol of the holiday as could be wished.

Lovely even in profile
A bit of the purest white imaginable

 

Comments always are welcome.

The Uncommonly Beautiful Orchid Tree

~ shoreacres ~ 44 Comments
A better-than-average recovery 

My sole archival photo of the Brazoria Wildlife Refuge’s Anacacho orchid tree  (Bauhinia lunarioides) was taken in 2017. After that, I missed the bloom for a few years, and after the disasterous freeze of 2021, I feared the tree had gone the way of the refuge’s Texas mountain laurel: unable to recover. In both cases, I couldn’t have been more wrong. This year, the mountain laurel was thick with blooms, and the Anacacho orchid was spectacular.

Like Texas mountain laurel, Anacacho orchid is a member of the Fabaceae, or pea family. Although native to Texas, it’s found only in a small portion of the state: in the Anacacho Mountains, and in the Devil’s River canyons and arroyos along the Texas-Mexico Border.

Some say its leaves resemble hooves, which explains a common Spanish name: Pata de vaca, or cow’s foot. Its preference for dry, rocky, or well-drained locations helps to explain why it’s done so well at the Brazoria refuge, as well as in places like San Antonio and Corpus Christi, where it’s often planted near residences because of its relatively small size. 

If the tree experiences freeze damage, it may lose all of its leaves, but spring will bring new growth and a profusion of flowers, like those I found at Brazoria on March 21. 

 

Comments always are welcome.

A Sage Named for Its Leaf

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Lyreleaf sage in a wooded area of Brazos Bend State Park

Willing to tolerate heat, humidity, or drought, the perennial known as lyreleaf sage (Salvia lyrata) even tolerates mowing and foot traffic, making it a useful and elegant ground cover. 

A member of the Lamiaceae, or mint family, the plant is native to southern and eastern states well beyond Texas. Its specific epithet, lyrata, was chosen because its lobed leaves were thought to resemble the musical instrument known as a lyre. First appearing as a low-growing, ground-hugging rosette, the dark green leaves often are tinged with purple or marked with distinctive purple veins; some have a rounded form, while others are deeply lobed. 

A recognizable leaf of Salvia lyrata
A newly-developing four inch bloom stalk ~ Brazos Bend State Park

Square stems typical of the mint family emerge from each rosette, topped with whorls of lavender or light blue flowers that extend from distinctive purplish-brown sepals. Blooming from mid-spring until early summer, each tubular flower is about one and a half inches long. 

Contrasting colors of bracts and blooms in a League City drainage ditch

In addition to its ornamental appeal, lyreleaf sage is an excellent pollinator plant; bees, butterflies, moths, and hummingbirds are attracted to its nectar-rich flowers. Goldfinches and mourning doves are fond of its seeds; although they tend to avoid the leaves, deer occasionally browse the flower stalks, while squirrels will nibble the buds.

Blooming beneath a shade tree near the Brazos River on March 15

Lyreleaf sage can be found in a variety of habitats, from woodland edges to open roadsides and fields. At one of the secondary entrances to the Brazoria prairie, I found a small cluster of the plants growing in full sun, accompanied by Indian paintbrush. That dry roadside certainly differed from the shady Brazos Bend woods, but the flowers were equally charming.

On a Brazoria County roadside, no shade was no problem

 

Comments always are welcome.

Those Widespread Wisterias

~ shoreacres ~ 52 Comments

Climbing up, over, and around a chain link fence on its way to a nearby telephone pole, this free-range neighborhood wisteria has been trimmed back over the years by multiple freezes, but on March 15, its delicate colors were emerging once again.

Like the Texas mountain laurel shown in my previous post, wisteria is a member of the Fabaceae, or pea family. Its buds, flower clusters, and color are remarkably similar to Texas mountain laurel, and, like that plant, it also produces toxic seeds.

Buds of Wisteria sinensis

The buds and flowers can vary in color from plant to plant, ranging from light lavender to a deeper purple. 

Two Asian wisteria species, Chinese (Wisteria sinensis) and Japanese  (Wisteria floribunda), were introduced to America in the early 19th century; both escaped cultivation and now are considered invasive in many parts of the country.

A native wisteria (Wisteria frutescens) can be found in east Texas and throughout the southeastern states. It grows more slowly than the introduced species, and blooms later: from April to June, and sporadically during the summer. An easy way to distinguish native from non-native wisterias involves their leaves. The native plant’s leaves emerge prior to flowering, while the Asian species produce their flowers first.

During a visit to the Linh Son Buddhist temple in Santa Fe (Texas), I was reminded that wisteria sometimes is white. That plant had undergone some trimming that gave it a more tree-like form; the flower clusters were being swarmed by shiny black carpenter bees. 

Perhaps a cultivated variety of Wisteria sinensis

While the form of its buds was identical to other wisterias, I was surprised by their color. Their transition from pinkish buds into pure white flowers was delightful: yet another example of nature’s transformative powers.

 

Comments always are welcome.