May 8, 2014

     Our drought continues, despite three-quarters of an inch of hard, thunder-scented rain today about noontime. The Creek is no longer a continuous flow from the hills of Burnet down to the Colorado River, but the Pond remains spring-fed, even if it doesn't flow out above ground into our part of the Creek. The image directly below shows looking down-stream across dry-bones of a stream, with American water-willow (Justicia americana) blossoming white, with rabbit-foot grass (Polypogon monspeliensis) lush and soft to the eye, and with our own devil's yellow-hair in disguise--Dodder (Cuscuta japonica)--sucking away the liquid nutrients of whatever plant it can strangle (the small bit of gold in the center of the image below and then above the Creek about half a dozen photos farther down this page).

     I find the image below interesting if only because of the story it's telling of a hillside turned gray from our really bad drought and heatwave a few years ago; of a greenhouse roof; of a stone-field filling in with grasses; of young sycamores boldly rising up since the flood tore out the others about six years ago; and the much-reduced Creek of today.

Here are some water-willows with a bit of stream passing through:

History book.

     After the storm blew through today, I found this pair of painted buntings (Passerina ciris) dead beneath one of our home's south windows against which they presumably found that the reflection of lights and leaves was solid. They were only a foot and a half apart from one another. I've been seeing a pair of buntings flying around our yard for the past week. 

     The French name for this bird is nonpareil, meaning "without equal."

Water-Willow in Time of Drought

"Water Willow"

Dante Gabrie Rossetti (1871)

     So, sometimes a lovely little painting just doesn't cut it.  Honesty trumps snobbery and pretension.  I do enjoy, however, the boat in the background.  Boats are good.

     But this afternoon I returned after several days' absence to The Creek to hose down the orchard and blackberry vines.  In the mean time, that gorgeous and abundantly growing plant along the southern edge of the pond and beside much of the upper section of creek had  bloomed (see blog entry on reasons for depression).  Without warning and without waiting for me to pull up a stone seat to watch, sweet white and purple blossoms on slender four-inch spikes had bloomed all across the deep green swatch of Justicia americana.

Justicia americana (L.) Vahl

American water-willow, Water-willow

Acanthaceae (Acanthus Family)

[photo credit: UT's Native Plant Database  http://www.wildflower.org]

     

     Here is a less than spectacular image (Android phone standing in) of water-willow growing on the southern end of The Pond.

     Before we completely demolished the double-wide trailer up the slope from the pond, we dug up two old rose bushes under its front door and transplanted them over beside the orchard and berries.  Now they're thriving nicely, to the great satisfaction of the leaf-cutter bee.  Below is an example of her handiwork I saw and photographed today:

     Of the family Megachilidae, this very small bee that resembles more a housefly, seems to prefer rose leaves as the material with which it will line a buried hole and into which it will lay eggs.  I first watched this insect ten years ago.  Seems I had never noticed cuttings out of leaves like this before, but now I see them everywhere.