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:
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| 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."
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