Here comes the sun.

After two weeks or so of cold, gray, drizzly weather, followed by a nice rain, the sun has emerged!

One of my favorite parts of winter:  the little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium) turns rust! I did not realize this grass grows nationwide, and throughout much of Canada.
I bet it's lovely against a white backdrop . . .

Sickness engulfed my household over the holiday break. Day after day of that Oregonian weather did not help matters. I would go off the deep end if I had to put up with such weather for months on end. Apparently I live in the right geographical state for maintaining a healthy mental state.

Some thistle - this is likely its prettiest phase.

Spider web adorned with moisture.

But a bountiful rain (a relative term) over the last two days has led to a beautiful day, with everything looking fresh and clean and sparkly. My sense of well-being is directly related to the amount of sunshine I’m exposed to, so I’m feeling pretty good right now!

I have always just called this nolina 
(Nolina lindheimeriana), but it has a really fun
common name:  Devil's shoestring!

This morning I ventured out with the camera to see the sights and enjoy the sun and cool breeze. I was astonished to find a single wildflower in bloom, took pictures of drops of water beading on leaves, checked on the bluebonnet seedlings (yes, they have germinated!), listened to a few ecstatic birds, and thoroughly enjoyed communing with nature.

Winter is not over, of course. More rain is forecast for this weekend along with a “polar” cold front, as a weatherman termed it. Of course “polar” in Central Texas does not mean the same thing as it does in Alaska. Perhaps we will get a freeze out of it, perhaps not.  My daughter might feel moved to wear her boots rather than her preferred footwear:  flip-flops.  Or not.

The Texas redbud (Cercis canadensis var. texensis) is so confused.
It normally blooms in March, but it misunderstood the recent warm weather!

I hope wherever you are the day is as gorgeous as it is here, and you get to spend some time enjoying it!

Plains or prairie fleabane
(Erigeron modestus) -
the first wildflower
of the year!

Prairie verbena (Glandularia bipinnatifida - left) and
bluebonnet (Lupinus texensis).

What is going on around here?

Something is going on around here. I'm not sure what it is. Something is different. Hmmm.

Flame-leaf sumac (Rhus lanceolata) is - well - flaming.

Fall-blooming Copper Canyon daisy
(Tagetes lemmonii)

Let me lay out the clues for you.

Strange colors have appeared out in the yard and woods. The normal greens have been interrupted by occasional oranges and yellows. Very odd.

The wicker rockers have disappeared from the porch. I've so enjoyed rocking in those chairs these past few months - feeling balmy breezes on my bare arms while gazing out at my colorful domain. The rockers have been replaced by a wood rack half-stocked with oak and cedar logs. This is not near as comfortable for domain gazing. Sort of knobbly. Strange.

 

My laundry has become bulkier, recently populated by sweatshirts and blue jeans, instead of t-shirts and shorts. Bizarre.

Here's the real kicker: it is cooler outside than it is inside. I know! What the h-e-double-l is transpiring here on the hill?

What? Fall? You mean, autumn? That elusive season that sometimes appears after the marathon that is summer in Texas, and before the sprint that is winter?

Oh.

Never mind.

Little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium)
is going to seed.

Brown is the new green!

The latest issue of our local newspaper proclaimed “A Brown Lawn is a Water Conscious Lawn.” Hey, I am so there.

This morning I mowed the front yard for the – I kid you not – FIRST TIME this year.  One huge benefit to being in a months-long drought: grass does not grow. You can infer from this statement that I do not water the yard.

Mowing the aforementioned front lawn went something like this:  clouds of dust billowing and greenhouse gas emissions spewing while I trotted round and round mowing down sparse dead seed stalks of weeds that sprouted after the last rain of substance (in June). Afterwards, I was probably unrecognizable. The sweat coating my body combined with flying dust to create - mud.

Twice I have planted native grass seed out front. Alas, because of my stinginess with water, the tenacity of the King Ranch bluestem, and the scarcity of soil, the native grasses have not flourished. Even if they had, they would be dormant and brown under our current conditions.

Instead I have clumps of dormant KR, a few withered wildflowers, lots of bare dirt, assorted bones scattered by the dog, and of course, rocks. Lovely!

I find that I’m scanning lawns as I drive through towns, proud when I see parched grass. I’d like to stop and put a gold star on the front doors of those houses. But I guess that would be strange.

When I visited my youngest sister in an Austin suburb yesterday (she is also an avid gardener), I found that she, too, has been stingy with water. Her rationale:  she recently bought a Prius, so she has to be green now.

In my ‘hood, we are all on wells and very few people water lawns. Generally, you cannot see yards from the street (we’re a private bunch). There is no pressure to produce that perfect verdant lawn. In fact, there might be more pressure here to let that grass turn brown. We are all scared of dry wells.

So hey, brown is the new green! Be proud of that brown grass! And while you’re surveying your brown lawn, revel in the money you are saving on water bills, fertilizer and gas to power the mower. Enjoy doing something else on Saturday morning. More importantly, know that you are conserving water and doing your part for the planet!

And if you find a gold star on your door, you’ll know what it means.

Favorite spot in the garden:

Well, the garden is hurting. But this little plant got a drink recently, and looks pretty today. I really like the dainty little blooms and tiny red berries, and the leaves have an interesting frilly shape. Pigeonberry (Rivina humilis) is a Texas native, and birds like the berries.