Glory in the Morning

 

A desiccated floral beauty in the wash caught my eye the other morning, and I asked my hiking partner what it was. "Morning glory," she said, pointing out the dry vine twisted around branches of its host. 

Suddenly, then, I began seeing it everywhere, wrapped around branches much the way Therese and I had wrapped Christmas lights around the century plant "Christmas tree" for the weekend show at the gallery.

And now, at last, I could make sense of this phone photo Therese sent me last summer, when the morning glories were all in glorious bloom in the wash.

"Family" Resemblances Can Be Deceiving

Century plant reaches maturity

In the foreground you see the agave commonly called century plant, putting up a new stalk that will flower later this season, after which the plant will die. It doesn't really take 100 years for a century plant to reach maturity, but it does take a long time. In the background and to the right of the mature plant, you can see last year's stalks on two other plants. Some people here utilize spent century plant stalks for Christmas trees. Somewhere I must have a photograph of an Arizona friend's spectacular Christmas tree all decorated and hung with lights, but I can't find it. Here, however, is the agave stalk that forms the basis for those holiday trees. Use your imagination to see it indoors and transformed.

Agave

This post was inspired by my friend Kelly, who recently posed for a photograph next to some giant stalks that looked like agave to me but that she said were asparagus sculptures. I told her both were in the lily family. I was wrong! Agave -- above -- is in the amaryllis family. But look at it closely, Michigan friends! Does this not look like asparagus to you?

Agave -- amaryllis family, not lily

It turns out that another ubiquitous southern Arizona plant (one I originally mistook for a palmetto when first seeing it years ago and one I consistently confused with a couple of other plants the first winter we stayed in Dos Cabezas), the soaptree yucca, is in the lily family with asparagus. Below is a new yucca stalk as it appears right now in May. The yucca, please note, does not give its life when it flowers but can have old and new stalks together on the same parent plant. 

Yucca - lily family (with asparagus)

Which looks more like asparagus to you, agave or yucca? First impressions can be deceiving to the amateur botanist!

I'll close out this post with a photograph of an old, dried-out stalk from the previous year's flowering. And thus endeth the lesson on giant Arizona plants that look like asparagus.

Don't Look for Ocotillo Here Today

A friend back in Michigan asked me what is blooming right now in Arizona. Soon there will be some big, fantastic flowers along the highway, but prickly poppy seems to be taking its time this year, and I don't have a new photograph of the showy Western wallflower, so I thought we could just tour scruffy mesquite country and take a closer look at what there is to see.

There are so many yellow composite blooms in the Southwest that some people call them all, in exasperation, DYCs -- for damned yellow composites. I will never learn them all, but they are as cheery as Michigan dandelions when they first appear.

in sun

The image above shows a globemallow blossom. Globemallow was one of the first Western blooms I learned to identify, drawn to it by its spectacular color, but I don't know which species this one is. Even the field guide (Audubon) admits that members of the Sphaeralcea genus can be "difficult to identify," and before the flowers appear, the plant is weedy and somewhat unattractive. But then comes that salmon-orange blossom, and I forgive completely! Here is a second photo of globemallow, just to show that I hold no grudges and do, really, appreciate having it around. 

in shade

While we're on the subject of weedy plants, we might as well address also the question of Western peppergrass, Lepidium montanum, a member of the mustard family (Brassicaceae). Like so many of the mustards, peppergrass lacks large, showy blossom size, but it makes up for that in abundance.

And a closer looks shows that the flower is attractive, in its own quiet way.

Another small, inconspicuous but abundant plant flowering now in mid-April has sweet, tiny faces that remind me of little flowers I saw dotting the grass in the parks of Paris, France, in the month of May (on my first, long-ago visit). See how they look pink when closed and then open to show white rays around a yellow center, like miniature daisies?

My field guide tells me this plant is spreading fleabane (Erigeron divergens), not the most appealing name for such a darling little flower, while the pâquerette I came to know and love in Paris is Bellis perennis. Oh, the mystery of botanical nomenclature, how two plants can look so similar and be only distantly related! Another mystery to me was why the translation given for pâquerette is 'daisy,' while I always new daisy as 'marguerite.' Anyone interested in the difference between large daisies and the little Easter daisy (hint: latter grows in the grass) can find information -- in French -- here. 

Here is one more easily overlooked high desert April bloom. Phacelia doesn't even have a common name, which tells you how much attention is paid to it, but when the dusty, lavender-grey blooms are at their fullest, the air around this ground-hugging plant buzzes with active pollinators. 

I said this post would not have very showy flowers, but my last one for today is showy indeed. Here in Dos Cabezas we don't have it carpeting entire acres, but a little patch of Mexican poppies shouts with joy, and anyone seeing it has to smile in response. 

And there you have it -- another lesson in looking carefully at the world, so as not to miss any of the gifts, however small, that are all around us.

Adventures Close to Home: Ocotillo Forest

So often what I show you in these adventures must seem repetitious, but today's mountain hike went in a different direction. Our destination was high ground where the ocotillo is getting ready to open its flowers to the sun. Here is the point where we really started to climb --

-- and maybe the photograph directly below will give some idea of how far from the road we ventured. Can you see our ghost town home at all back there in far distance?

One thing I know you can see in that last image is how open the ground is, compared to lower down in Dos Cabezas. We had gradually left most of the mesquite behind and now encountered more barrel and prickly pear cactus.

The old girl (dog girl, that is) had been staggering around earlier in the cabin, as if her legs could barely keep her upright. She can be like that in the mornings. Once outdoors, though? She is a new animal! Rambunctious as a puppy, eager to run and explore! I do keep an eye on her, of course, to make sure she doesn't get dehydrated or exhausted, and when she seems to be looking for water, I stop and we both have a drink. I also suck on a lemon -- for the electrolytes -- and Sarah has a couple of dog treats for energy.

Despite many stops for purposes of hydration and photography, the humans were on a mission this trip. Here is Therese (Sarah standing by), showing me why we made the arduous climb. 

But you still can't see how very tall they were, those ocotillo. This picture Therese took of me, standing right next to one of the plants, may give a better idea.

And here is Buddy in the ocotillo forest. Can you see him? He's a big dog but looks little here!

The ocotillo flowers are not yet fully open, but before long every tall wand ends in a bright red flame. They're getting there....

The forest of ocotillo had been our main objective, but it was not the only gift the mountains gave us. What has Therese spotted here on the edge of a deep ravine?

If we were back in Michigan, I'd call these black-eyed Susans, but what are they called here?

Then there were these brilliant mounds of color, such are also blooming along the roadsides right now, and I took the opportunity (far from roads) to get a good closeup. Now do my friends want to argue about what this flower is?

Once again, it was a beautiful and exciting day in the mountains -- and this time we humans refrained totally from political discussion. Not a single word! That was the icing on the cake.

Closeup Magic

I have a story about horsetails that I'll save for another time. Today you should simply appreciate the beauty of sunlight on morning dew on these little prehistoric survivors. And the closer you get, the more magical they will appear.

Rabbit Brush, December, Dos Cabezas

Rabbit Brush is a common and variable species in a genus found only in western North America. Some races are light green [the leaves], others have silvery hairs. Navajo Indians obtained a yellow dye from the flower heads.  

- The Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Wildflowers: Western Region, by Richard Spellenberg

Chrysothamnus nauseous is a member of the sunflower family (Asteraceeae). The wash is full of rabbit brush, mostly gone to seed but with a few yellow flowers remaining, and in this so-far warm late December there are still butterflies in the wash, also. Amazing to Michigan eyes! The species name give me pause, however. Would a cow who ate rabbit brush (if one did) become nauseated? I still have a lot to learn. 

Hairy Willow Herb

Epilobium hirsutum

Where has this little plant been all my life? Probably right under my nose, where I finally noticed it the other morning, by the side of my favorite secret creek....

December Brings Morning Frost