You Made My Day!

Four years ago I saw my first Zebra Longwing floating over the garden and was inspired to use it as the subject in a Japanese woodcut printing class I attended. Through the gruelling removal of wood with hand chisels to make the printing plates, I developed a sore wrist, an awesome appreciation of woodcut artists, and an obsession for this butterfly.

It doesn't seem to flap as much as other butterflies, but uses its long wingspan to glide around. Often when you see it, the thing is overhead and you are looking at the underside with the light coming through.

According to official lists it's not supposed to be seen in my county. I've come across one in my garden each year but as soon as I run for the camera it has disappeared. Except today! This one was so busy feeding on the Frostweed that I was able to get many good images. It made my day!

Spot Watching

Today I went out looking for something new to photograph, as I'm tired of thinking about the economic collapse of America, and needed a break from my work. As you may have noticed, lately I have been enjoying finding the abstract in nature with my camera.

Our ponds are so small and shallow compared to our neighbor's that they mostly attract butterflies who need shallow water to drink safely, birds for bathing, and some frogs. But today I spotted this lovely dragonfly, common to North America, but not seen at our pond before. It is a male 12 Spotted Skimmer, Libellula pulchella. Females do not have the white spots. I know in botanical terms pulchella means pretty. There's almost a mauve glow to his body.

Our English peas, Yellow Indian Woman and mothe beans are up in the garden. Now that the wildflowers have finished blooming, the sheep are grazing the short grass prairie. This makes them very happy. Phoebe becomes much easier to handle as if the prairie is a sedative, and Finley just boings around until he takes on the shape of a blimp and they are led back to their pen. The cusp between summer and autumn is just so beautiful. The 12 Spotted Skimmer perches on a twig, exhibiting calmness and fearlessness as I snap away. His ups and downs are far removed from those on Wall Street.

Waltzing Matelea

It's a rare day you will see one of these. Otherworldly, sparkling like a faceted garnet, it beckons from my front porch with sort of a lipstick seduction.

I've tended this plant for about fifteen years and it has bloomed maybe five of those. Gonolobus (matelea) cyclophyllus is a rare plant in the Milkweed family found in Mexico. It attracts pollinators by smelling like rotten meat. Before you turn up your nose, I must tell all you chocolate lovers that the cacao tree is pollinated by tiny flies, so I doubt that its flower smells any better.

Another interesting thing about this plant is the caudex develops corky tubercles. Because it is capable of storing water in the swollen base it is considered a caudiciform. If you want to see other Dr. Suess-like plants just google caudiciform. I once had quite a large collection, and hope to again keep quirky flowering plants. That's one of the things that makes me the flowerweaver.

We have a couple of similar native plants. This one, Matelea reticulata, or Pearlvine Milkweed, is equally as stunning. Instead of a faux garnet it has a faux pearl for its center. Milkweeds feed many beautiful butterflies when they are still hungry caterpillars, and provide many of the phytochemicals used in medicine.

Can you see the similarities between them?

What is it and how can I stop whoever you are from eating it?

Wish I could tell you this was my latest fiber art project as the textures and colors are fascinating. It's certainly inspirational. Can you guess what it is?


Instead of being creative I've been trying to deter varmints from the cucurbit patch we planted across the creek in May. As soon as the vines began to sprawl we noticed a few nibbled off and instantly suspected the resident cottontail. My husband valiantly erected a knee-high bunny fence around the area in a day. The vines blossomed, and hordes of bumble bees arrived.

Each morning we would survey the patch with our coffee cups in hand, smiling over the beautiful melons, winter squash, and pumpkins that were forming.


Did you guess pumpkin? They are a French heirloom with a hard to pronounce name. Here's the whole fruit from which the detail was taken. These babies are really tactile and fun to explore with hand and camera! I just hope they taste good, too.

Back at the patch, we noticed something was now eating Hokkaido squash and Tigger Melons. We didn't think it could be the bunny, so we placed the half eaten orbs into a large Have-a-Heart trap expecting a raccoon. But the culprit(s) continued to feast in the trap without springing it.

The thief was obviously smaller. We pushed a Ketch-all into the mouth of the other trap, and the next morning we had the cutest, plump field mouse in possession. He/she was relocated across the river. We proceeded to catch two more, but unfortunately the fire ants found them before we did. If you have ever experienced fire ant bites, you will know this is not a preferable way to go.

The damage was continuing to increase, and we were running out of patience, ideas, and time. I remembered WalMart sells fox urine in its hunting department to mask the scent of sportsmen (or, at least that's what they claim). Wouldn't that smell deter a bunch of pesky field mice?

As we sprayed the patch I tried not think about caged foxes being fed diuretics whose urine was probably being collected in third world countries by children, now being sold by uninsured low wage American or illegal workers putting mom-and-pop fox urine stores out of business. When your pumpkins are being devoured, you might have to briefly turn a blind eye to political correctness.

My husband said he could smell it, but I couldn't. Apparently the mice couldn't either because they continued their nightly gorging. Somehow they knew it smelled of trickery. Too bad Bunny Foo Foo was not bopping them on their heads!

Then, something altogether unexpected happened....a grey fox showed up inside the fenced patch to eat the mice! We had all been tricked!

From the looks of the half eaten things, our cucurbits were ripe. This is what was harvested yesterday. Not bad for our first attempt at pumpkins even if we lost half to the wild residents. We just hope the fox does not discover our chickens.

A Fraction of a Second Makes a Difference

The world watched swimmer Phelps become the greatest Olympic athlete ever, winning by fractions of seconds. That smidgen of time can make or break everything.

Yesterday I made a very bad mistake of forgetting to latch or improperly latching the garden gate--which also takes only a fraction of a second--and our dog Cody ran in and grabbed my beloved rooster, who never even saw him coming. The shaking was over with in a fraction of a second, and Apollo died of a heart attack in my arms. These days I seem to be a portal to the other world.

Our other dogs would have done the same, but poor Cody has been enabled to act out his instincts due to my stupidity on two occasions now. I realize I have never totally forgiven him for the death of my cat. He isn't innately mean or evil, and he started his life on a two foot chain in an asphalt parking lot having his hip kicked out of its socket as a puppy by his mean owner before I rescued him. I can only blame myself for Apollo's demise. I'm not angry at the dog, but I don't feel any love toward him. So I am weighed down with sadness.

I loved this chicken, probably second only to Avo. I wailed for hours. We buried him in a downpour, which seemed like the heavens crying with me because we've only had five inches of rain since the beginning of the year. This ruins our breeding program, too. I wish I could start yesterday over again, and latch that damn gate.

Frank's Fiber Factory

This is NOT snow, it's Frankenfur. Most people have dust bunnies, but we have dust buffaloes made of this. Most people have dogs, but we have a fiber factory.

Today was Francisco's day at the groomer and this is what we BRUSHED off of him. With this much fur, he was always carrying around sticks, leaves, entire ecosystems in his tail alone. It took us six hours (nine if you count breaks) and by the time we were finished we had enough fur to build a couple more dogs. If Aunt Sara can spin this, maybe I can knit an entire bed spread. (which is where it would have ended up anyway).

Frankie was an exceptionally good boy. Here's Aunt Connie with her infinite patience and tender touch. The last groomer I used sedated him without my permission. Connie doesn't use sedatives, she just charms all the dogs into thinking they are royalty and that baths are really fun.

Here's me and my big fuzzy who'll be a lot cooler this summer.

What's Your Name?

Although I cannot claim to know all of the wildflowers of Texas, I know a goodly portion of what grows in the Hill Country by their binomials. The others are ones I once knew, like an old friend you see after some time and you can't for the foggiest recall their name.

So it's always exciting to run across a plant I've never seen before. I've been watching this one for two years and have not figured it out yet.

It's a small perennial growing out of a limestone slab in a dry creek, so it doesn't get much water. It's in dappled shade/sun and blooms in May as a greenish-brown flower with four petals. Last year I thought perhaps I'd missed the petals and was looking at sepals, especially since they are glabrous, but on closer observation this year this appears to be all it's got.

The most interesting thing about the flower is it only opens during a downpour of rain! It doesn't open when it's just cloudy, drizzling, or lightly raining. We're talking a sky is falling, cats-and-dogs drenching. Is there such a thing as pollination by heavy rain? I haven't seen any creature attempting to pollinate it. As soon as the rain ends, the flower closes again.

My friend Marshall Johnston (Vascular Plants of Texas) doesn't recognize it, and has suggested emailing BRIT.