Sea Lavender

The first time I saw sea lavender, Argusia gnaphalodes, was somewhere in the Caribbean, possibly Grand Cayman, or Aruba, over 30 years ago. The beauty of its green-gray whorls of silky soft leaves so impressed me that I pinched off a tiny piece and showed it to the agricultural customs agent at Miami International Airport. He identified it for me, and explained that it once had been common along Florida east coast beaches, but was becoming increasingly rare due to development. (Environmental laws give Florida's wetland plants some protection. But some of the most rare and vulnerable native species require high and dry land, precisely the sites most coveted by developers, and often come out the losers).

Argusia gnaphalodes - Tip of Stem

After moving back to Florida in 1990, I began looking for the plant - in vain. So far my sources disagree on whether the plant occcurs naturally on the state's sw coast. Next year I will be stalking local state park and public beaches in search of it. Otherwise, it is native to Florida's east coast north to Brevard County, the Keys, West Indies, Yucatan Peninsula, and the Caribbean coast of central America and Venezuela. 

 Finally, about 2 years ago, I discovered a row of scraggly and generally unimpressive pots of Argusia at the All Native Plant Nursery in Fort Myers*, and pounced. Over the last 2 years it has become a handsome, fully-leafed out shrub about 3-and-a-half feet tall and wide. Barring calamity, it will keep spreading, though perhaps at a slower pace.

Argusia gnaphalodes  - Front View

I planted it in March, several months before the advent of the rainy season. I watered it well for the first week or so, until it seemed to be doing fine on its own, and since then I have neglected it completely, even though it is growing in one of the most difficult areas of our yard - a south-westerly slope of pure sand and brutal daylong sunshine. The summer rains no doubt were crucial to its establishment. 

In fact, gardeners living farther inland, where drainage is not so severe, and salt-laden wind not so common, might have trouble cultivating sea lavender, because it cannot take saturated or highly organic soils. It might also be subject to mildews and molds further inland, where there is less wind - speculation on my part, but possible.

(I have found transplanting native plants during the fall risky. I don't think the plants are programmed to grow in the absence of sustained rain, and stay in a semi-dormant state either until they die or the summer returns. No amount of watering seems to compensate for regular, saturating showers).

Like many plants in the Borage Family, Argusia gnaphalodes is extremely hairy everywhere except the petals and fruits. A dense covering of flattened hairs protects the succulent leaves from dehydration, too much sun and salt. It also gives them the silky softness of a puppy's ear. The leaves reflect silver in bright light, so much so that it's easy to overexpose photographs. In lower light, the plant can appear quite blue. 

Older Flowers - Low Light

Arg-The Latin root of the genus name, Argusia, refers to bright or silver light. The species name derives from a superficial resemblance to a genus of weedy winter annuals in the Aster Family, Gnaphalium.  

The leaves, flat, slightly succulent, and a little spatula-shaped, alternate around the stem, and terminate in a dense whorl. They are about 3-4 inches long and one-quarter inch wide. As the stem elongates, lower leaves die, but don't fall off immediately. Eventually the bottom third of the plant will show these bare stems. The habit may not be to everybody's taste, but I think it makes the plant more interesting. Pendant stems can root, which makes Argusia an important dune-stabilizing plant. 

Backside of Plant - One Stem Starting to Droop

The flowers are formed in a tightly wound cyme, which straightens as the blooms mature. 5 petals, somewhat crinkled, are united at the base. Young flowers are white, with the centers turning pink-maroon as they age. They are said to be mildly fragrant, but so far I haven't been able to catch that. 

Young Flowers

Fruits start out yellow-green, and turn brown or black as they ripen. I haven't seen any ripe fruits yet, so I suspect something eats them before I notice,

Immature Fruits

One of the main reasons this gorgeous plant isn't grown more is that basically nobody knows about it, which is a shame, because for coastal landscapes, it's unbeatable. 

See my blog post, All Native Plant Nursery, April 9, 2020.

Once You Have Goldenrod . . .

 "Once you have goldenrod, you will always have goldenrod," was the cryptic remark of a stalwart in the Naples chapter of the  Florida Native Plant Society when I took home a specimen she had potted. I asked what she meant, and she just gave me a wry smile, and said, "You'll see."

It didn't take too long. Look up "goldenrod" on a search engine and you'll find topics like, " How do I control goldenrod in my garden," and "How do I get rid of goldenrod in my garden."

Besides being tough as nails, the species I got from Freda spreads vigorously by rhizomes. Pot it up, and it creeps out through every drainage hole. Pull it out, and it shows up across the path, or in a neighboring bed after a few weeks. It produces thousands of seeds, but they don't seem to be all that viable, because the plant doesn't jump all the way across the yard, but stays mainly in the general area where I first planted it. Maybe the seeds are mostly for the little creatures that must eat them.  

"Our" goldenrod grows outside the easterly wall, which is remarkably deficient in windows, so I don't have a good idea of what goes on with it. Still, I get the idea that the butterflies and skippers that visit us generally find other flowers in the yard more attractive. On the other hand, I rarely pass by it without seeing some manner of wasp or bee vigorously stuffing itself or collecting pollen. Often there may be several species feeding at the same time.

Paper Wasp on Goldenrod

The plant in our yard seems to fit the description of Solidago fistulosa, "Pinebarren Goldenrod," better than any others, but I'm making no guarantees. There are over 100 species of goldenrod worldwide, and they hybridize readily. On the other hand, according to the 1998 edition of Wunderlin's Guide to the Vascular Plants of Florida, only about 5 species occur naturally in southern Florida, and it doesn't really look like any of the other possibilities.

Goldenrod, Pen & Ink

It doesn't form a classic basal rosette like many members of the Aster Family, including some goldenrods, but just pops straight out of the ground, and reaches for the sky, unburdened by any side branches. Narrow, lance-shaped leaves, sometimes with toothed margins, alternate around a bristly stem. The leaves are attached directly to the stem, with no petioles. As the stem elongates, the lower leaves wither and may or may not fall off.

The inflorescence is somewhat pyramidal, and made up of graceful, arching wands, alternating around the stems, and bearing numerous saturated yellow heads. The heads have both disc and ray florets, but the latter are a little sparse. The stem usually forms just one inflorescence, at its end, but if you cut off a faded inflorescence, the remaining stem sometimes will produce more blooming wands on its sides. It won't make a new, blooming "pyramid." 

Goldenrod Sketch

The stems can get up to 6 feet tall (though mine don't get that high), and the leaves die from the bottom up, so eventually you have a cluster of dead heads and seeds atop a bare stalk irregularly flagged with withered leaves. That's definitely when it needs to be cut back hard, but being a negligent sort of gardener, I rarely do that in a timely manner. This trait could be masked a bit if the goldenrod were placed behind lower-growing plants. Some of ours have spread into a clump of lavender lantana, but it stays too low to hide the stems completely when they get unsightly. 

It's often windy here, and I should stake them. If our yard were bigger, and the  garden beds wider I could let the goldenrods droop,  but as it is, they flop over and obstruct the path, and become something of a nuisance. It's a magnificent plant, and I wish I had space for a grand swathe of it, bending and bowing in the breeze, instead of my constrained, small patch. But I wouldn't do without it. For one thing, it reminds me of the wisdom,humor, and lop-sided smile of a long-dead friend. 

Megachile Bee on Goldenrod

 

Twisted-Banded Airplant

 The twisted-banded airplants (Tillandsia flexuosa Sw.) in our yard bloomed most of the summer, and are producing seeds now. This "airplant" is neither rare nor common in Florida, though I suspect loss of habitat is making in more infrequent. It ranges as far north as central Florida, and southward through the Caribbean, parts of Mexico and Central America, Columbia, Venezuela, and the Guianas. It also is a plant of the lowlands, staying from sea level to about 400 meters in elevation. It is quite salt tolerant, thriving in our yard only a few bits  of barrier islands away from the Gulf of Mexico. Some of the plants mounted on small trees got blown 90 -180 degrees off their axes during Hurricane Irma in 2017, but they gradually grew back toward the light. 

Tillandsia flexuosa and pup

The typical plant could be described as "loosely wrapped," with around 10 -15 stiff, leathery leaves arranged in a loose spiral. After the plant has produced seeds it eventually falls apart. The size and appearance of Tillandsia flexuosa vary dramatically, depending on where the plants are growing. The specimens growing in the harsh scrub of the Naples Preserve or Rookery Bay's upland areas are gray/silver, sometimes with tinges of crimson, with darker gray horizontal bands. 

Young T. flexuosa in Naples Preserve

Those living in more shade are progressively a greener gray/almost white, with darker green horizontal bands. The leaves may recurve rather dramatically or remain more upright. I have observed the greatest degree of recurving in plants in fairly deep shade, and suspect it is the plant's way of seeking more light. The plant produces pups, and over time will form a small colony. Given the behavior of the plants in our yard, it germinates fairly easily as well.

T. flexuosa seedlings on Fiddlewood

Do you see the anole?

The inflorescence, which can grow up to a meter tall, is branched, with flowers on alternate sides of the branches. Each branch ends in a pair of bracts, one  normal-sized and one much smaller and sterile.  The bracts and flowers grow at fairly wide angles to the branches - often near 90 degrees, which gives a slightly zig-zag appearance. I imagine that this, and the slight curvature of the areas between the bracts gives the branch greater strength and stability, since the process of flowering and seed production is fairly long. 

Inflorescence

The flowers are a deep, warm pink, and open over a long period, so the plant produces points of intense color, rather than a large display. Once the seeds have dispersed the insides of the bracts reveal themselves to be a deep, rich maroon, which also is attractive. A flower arranger probably would love the dried inflorescences. 

A non-local variety of the plant is viviparous, meaning that the seed germinates in the fruit before the fruit is detached. The mangrove "pencil" is a good example of vivipary. I have noticed seedlings on the dried branches of the inflorescence, and assumed that they had fallen and been trapped by residual fibers, but obviously I need to observe my plants much more closely next year.  The photo below shows somewhat out-of-focus green seedlings on the right of the inflorescence.

 

My first plants came from a legal rescue in the Panther Reserve, just north of the Fakahatchee Slough. Several large trees had been felled to make room for a greenhouse for native orchids, and I and fellow members of a botanical identification course visiting for the day were welcomed to harvest the epiphytes. (The trees were going to the shredder). Since then, I've become an active parking-lot stalker, especially where there are old live oak trees. Usually the fallen epiphytes are the ubiquitous ball moss (T. recurvata L) and wisps of Spanish moss(T. usneoides L), but I've found a fair number of the twisted-banded airplants as well. I haven't found that many lately, so maybe the supply has been exhausted.

I occasionally find pot-belly airplants (T. paucifolia Baker)  and Southern needleleaf (T. setaceae Sw) on or under declining shrubs. I don't take any from a healthy host, but if the shrub is definitely headed for the shredder, I will break off dead branchlets and the airplants. I stopped picking once, because I felt greedy, only to notice the next week that all the plants had been uprooted and replaced, so I won't have as many scruples now when it comes to harvesting from dying shrubs in parking lots. 

Our plants thrive in the shade and branches  of a Fiddlewood. It never has flourished, and I fear it eventually will die, but in the meantime it provides a perfect habitat for the Tillandsias and other epiphytes.

For more on Spanish Moss, see my post on April 12, 2019, "Southern Gothic - Spanish Moss."

See also "Parking Lot Potbelly." Feb. 27, 2019.

August in the Garden

 I've spent most of my outside hours pulling things out of the yard lately, when the weather allows it.  It's gotten horribly overgrown with lots of  rain and neglect. I'm not the earliest of risers, and the day quickly heats up. The heat and humidity are such that it's easy to flirt with heat exhaustion doing "just one more thing." Some days the relative humidity is just about as high as the temperature. This is summer in southwest Florida, and even though I get uncomfortable and worry about hurricanes, it's my favorite season.

 

I spend a lot of time drinking coffee and staring at a Spanish stopper  through the dining room window. This tree/shrub is unassuming almost to a fault, and since it has a short blooming time, it's easy to miss its "glory days" altogether. But because of my coffee habit, I usually know what's going on with it.

Spanish Stopper, Eugenia foetida

Even the most modest natural things, living or not, can possess an element of striking beauty that is visible only to the passer-by who chances to pause and look. Spanish stopper is a typical wallflower, present, but not noticed. It has rather narrow, vertical habit, so is good for small spaces and hedges. Despite its species name, it does not stink. 

Spanish stopper has its moments of glory when clusters of white flowers clothe the branches. The petals are shell-like and delicate, and the flower itself is adorned with numerous stamens. They are intensely beautiful, even though they have to be observed closely, even with a handlens, to be seen clearly. They make the shrub look like it has been dusted with snowflakes. The flowers don't last very long, especially if it rains, but they are superb while they last. 

One reason our yard is such a mess is that I tend to leave plants that seem "interesting" to me for one reason or other, and a lot of them turn out to be weeds. West Indian pink root, Spigelia anthelmia, isn't the most rampant, and I'm not sure I'd even call it a pest. It's not quite showy enough, even for my taste, to merit cultivation, yet I'm loathe to pull all of it out. The deeply veined leaves are almost sculptural, the tiny flowers attractive, and the general form graceful.

 Dried extract of leaves, roots and stems is available on the Web for homeopathic treatments of nervous disorders and headaches. All parts of the plant are toxic, though. But then again, so are many drugs. It has been used as well to treat worms - hence the species name "anthelmia." As far as I've looked, none of the plants in my yard have had pink roots, not even in cross-section.

Spigelia anthelmia

I have several vines, both planted and uninvited (morning glory) on the fence between us and one set of neighbors. I trim them when they tumble over into the neighbors' space too much. I try to keep the worst of my horticultural untidiness confined to our yard. 

Among the "casualties" of my  pruning were numerous sprays of coral honeysuckle, Lonicera sempervirens.  Native to much of the United States and Mexico, it isn't vouchered for Collier County, but it grows well here nonetheless.  It slows down periodically, but I don't think it every ceases flowering completely. It's a great favorite with hummingbirds and some butterflies. It's on the side of the yard, though, so I don't often see it or the visitors, which is a pity. In this sketch I agonized less about getting the trumpet shaped flowers in correct perspective, and just went for the energy.

Coral Honeysuckle, Sketchbook Pages

Finally, with all the rain we've been having, everything is very green and lush. A few days ago we had the largest flock of white ibis we've seen for a long time grazing in the vacant lots across the canal from us. They will forage unperturbed even in a fairly heavy rain. They've adapted well to the suburban landscape. I don't know how many get poisoned by lawn fertilizers and pesticides, but as long as they stick to the vacant lots they probably are safe. Ibis are common along the beach, too. I don't know whether some prefer salt and some fresh, or whether they use both here. Inland, they would have only freshwater prey, obviously.  Old-time Floridians, like my father, call(ed) them "curlews." There were still a few immature (brown) birds mixed with the flock.

Ibis

This was the quickest of sketches - just an impression of  the birds as they grazed and squabbled. They were gone a few minutes later.

-------------------

I have a longer post about the Spanish Stopper:

https://flbysb.blogspot.com/07/07/2020

I also have a longer post about Spigelia Anthelmia:

https://flbysb.blogspot.com/06/08/2018.

Mistletoe Cactus

When it comes to mistletoe cactus, Rhipsalis baccifera, there's not much "there" there, to steal a phrase from Gertrude Stein. It certainly is not a show-stopping plant. It doesn't even look like a cactus. Its white berries and slender stalks give it a very superficial resemblance to mistletoe, but mistletoe has leaves and is a parasite, and not even distantly related to cacti.

Pendant Stems of Mistletoe Cactus

Rhipsalis baccifera is an epiphyte that has adapted to the extremes of sea-level mangrove swamps and the high altitudes of the cloud forest, and everything in between. The general assumption among botanists is that cacti are exclusively New World plants, and have evolved relatively recently. Mistletoe cactus fits that theory, being native to 2 counties in southern Florida, the Caribbean, eastern Mexico, Central America and throughout much of tropical South America. But it also is widespread, and considered native in tropical Africa, South Africa, Sri Lanka, Madagascar, and parts of India. How it got there  has had scientists scratching their heads for generations.

  Rhipsalis the largest genus of epiphytic cacti, and Rhipsalis baccifera has numerous subspecies. The classification probably needs cleaning up, but the fact remains that the species is highly polymorphic (appears in many different forms). The vast differences in geography and habitat would account for these differences. It even varies on the cellular level, with most New World species being diploid, while Old World species are commonly tetraploid. 

 Like other so-called "airplants," it uses its roots mainly for anchoring and stabilizing rather than for absorbing water and nutrients. It sometimes also grows on rocks. Trailing stems of my plants have rooted in the upper layers of potted plants standing lower on my shelves, which makes me think that it would creep happily in a layer of humus or porous light soil at ground level. Rhipsalis baccifera, subsp. baccifera is the form found in Florida and much of the New World tropics.

The stems of the Florida native are about the diameter of cooked spahgetti, hence its second common name, "spaghetti cactus." Stems of other subspecies may be thicker, angular, or flattened. The stems can grow up to 9 meters long, though they generally are shorter. My plants have stems only about 2-one-half feet long, but that is because I haven't found a good place for them, and they don't grow as lushly as they should.

The stems hang downward and may branch into multiple stems, which also branch. They are tender and succulent, though become somewhat woody at the base. The main feature that distinguishes cacti from other spiny species is the presence of an areole, a generally raised, cushion-like structure from which the spines arise. The stems of mistletoe cactus have only rudimentary areoles, which tend to disappear with age. With a hand lens you can see a few hairs emanating from these very basic structures. New growth is reddish, and quite spiny/hairy. 

Areoles on Opuntia (Prickley Pear  Cactus)

In all the years I've had my plants, I've never managed to catch them in bloom. That's mainly because I've just left them under a tree or bush and forgotten about them. In fact, I'd forgotten I even had them until  Hurricane Irma in 2017 exposed one clinging for life in a crotch of a defoliated 7-year apple (Genipa clusiifolia). By all accounts the flowers are small and insignificant, though with the aid of a hand lens, "insignificance" sometimes can spring into beauty. Translucent whitish berries are borne directly on the stems or on a very short stalk. Birds eat the berries, helping to disperse the species. 

Adventitions Roots, New Growth, Rudimentary Areoles

In fact, the plant is so unassuming, yet vexing in its variability, that a specialist named Ken Friedman wrote, "So many species are named R. baccifera that it is almost impossible to tell an original. Four or five  growing in my greenhouse  have different vegetation although the flowers are similarly inconsequential. If anything, they are large weeds that take up more room than they are worth." 

So how did this modest plant colonize such a large portion of the globe? The theories that exist are not exactly convincing on their own. 

The least likely theory is that the  plant was spread by the shipping trade in the 15th century and onward. But the plant is widespread into interior regions of the Old World, and not limited to the port areas. That kind of spread normally wouldn't occur in a matter of hundreds of years. Even more problematical is the fact that Old World subspecies differ significantly from the "ur-type," R. baccifera, and such evolution normally requires eons, not centuries to occcur. The plant also is prominent in Ayurvedic medicine, which some believed began as early as the Bronze Age. It is possible that it was a later addition, but it still takes a long time for something to become entrenched in regional  medical lore.

The next theory involves continental drift. This theory holds that the plant was well-established before the breakup of the supercontinent Gondwana. The fly in the ointment here is that Gondwana probably began to break up around 180 million years ago. If cacti as a group didn't evolve until some 30 million years ago, as is generally accepted, that leaves a huge gap. In that case Rhipsalis would have to be an atypical, extremely ancient genus. Since cacti leave few, if any, fossil records, nobody really knows when Rhipsalis evolved, but it probably was well after Gondwana's destruction.

That leaves us with birds, which we know are frequent vectors of plant dissemination. It certainly makes sense for the distribution within the New World. Many of Florida's native plants were brought by birds  from the Caribbean and the Bahamas. A problem with this theory is that most birds migrate north to south or the reverse. I'm not aware of any seed-eating birds that currently migrate over the Atlantic from the Americas  to Africa and beyond. That would be a vast distance for a seed-eating bird to traverse, and also a vast distance for a seed-eating bird not to poop. We don't yet have any fossil record of any ancient bird prototype that would have been up to the trip either.

The "answer," if there is one, is probably a combination of continental drift and the birds. The breakup of Gondwana didn't exactly occur overnight, but over the course of millions of  years. In fact, we are still moving. What eventually became Africa and South America would have been much closer at varioius points in geological history than they are today, and there most likely would have been islands and mountaintops that are now submerged or destroyed. Then island-hopping by birds would make sense.

Personally, I rather like the "space aliens" theory put forward by "Laidback Gardener" Larry Hodgson, who suggests that, "millions of years ago, space aliens moved the plant around, just to mess with scientists trying to understand how R. baccifera got around." Why not?

Further Reading:

“The Cactus That Traveled the Globe.”Larry Hodgson. Http:/laidbackgardener.blog/2018/12/03/the-cactus.://

Rhipsalis baccifera (JS Meuller) Stern. In Cactus Journal (Croyden) 7:107 (1939). With comments and photographs by Ken Friedman. www.Rhipsalis.com/species/baccifera.

“I Havana a Clue How I Got Here; Cactus Goes for a Drink in Cuba, Wakes Up in Cape Town.” Jan. 27, 2014 by alieyres. http://blogs.reading.ac.uk/2014/01/rhipping-yarns.

 

 

Peeling Bark - An Attractive Feature of Simpson's Stopper

Peeling bark is just one of the many charms of the  Florida native plant, Simpson's Stopper (Myrcianthes fragrans). The specimen in our yard, which I have "limbed up" and trained into a multi-trunked large shrub, is shedding its bark now. It doesn't happen all at once, but seems to start at the base of the trunks, and progress upward through the branches. 

Old, papery bark peels back to reveal vividly-colored new surfaces which beg to be touched as well as seen. They are smooth as though sanded, and the hands itch to experience their fullness. The new wood gradually will fade to a pale beige, but for a time will display nuances of siena, gold, and even hints of green. 

The old bark, mottled with dirt and remnants of lichens may be held in place for a time by the scar of a fallen branchlet. It looks riveted in place. 

My photo below shows that my watercolor sketch doesn't exaggerate the colors.

Healthy plants shed their bark for a variety of reasons. It may be to facilitate growth, to get rid of harmful organisms, or even to aid in photosynthesis. Whatever the explanation, it is one more reason to marvel at the variety and beauty of plants.

Smooth, New Wood

Mahogany/Mahagony

 

Yet another Florida native plant that people know and don't know from parking lots is the Florida, or West Indian Mahogany, Swietenia mahagoni. I've always been puzzled by the discrepancy between the common name, mahogany, and the species epithet mahagoni. There must be an explanation, linguistic or otherwise, but I haven't found it yet, and I always forget which is which). 

I 've concluded that people are pretty blind to plants beyond vague perceptions of their presence. So while residents and tourists alike "see" many mahoganies in southern Florida, they really aren't aware of them. Besides, the trees they do encounter are generally mangled by storms, bad pruning, or both.

Typical Wind-Damaged Mahogany

But they can't help but notice when sometime in mid-to-late April the tree drops all its leaves, seemingly overnight. Then, the bare asphalt of parking lots is transformed into a sea of light brown leaflets, which form piles and swirls, ankle deep where they collect against curbing. 

You don't want to park under a mahogany tree this time of year, because the remaining fruits, hard and woody somewhat pear-shaped capsules, also drop. Kids call them "mahogany nuts," and the the less civilized in that age group find them great missiles for attacking each other, cars and mailboxes. 

Mahogany Capsule, Seed, and Cross Section

 

When the fruits hit the ground they break apart into segments, which make for bumpy, uncomfortable driving. I don't know whether they actually damage tires, but they can't do them any good, either. So after the leaf drop, you slide around on the leaflets and crunch over the pods until the leaf-blowing crew returns.

Not Much Fun for Drivers

A plant with this behavior is called "semi-deciduous," which is a new one for me. I always thought that a tree was deciduous or not, but it's more complicated. It turns out that "semi-deciduous" trees do shed all their leaves, but only for a brief period before new growth begins. So unlike hickories, many oaks, and other more northern trees, which are bare for months, semi-deciduous trees are leafless for only a brief time. Many of Florida's tropical hammock trees show this behavior. The late spring shed makes sense, considering that the rainy season is just around the corner. 

While mahoganies are very strong, and rarely toppled by windstorms, their habit of putting out branches at acute angles to the trunk makes them vulnerable to limb splitting. In their natural habitat they  had to push through to the top of the canopy, so perhaps didn't develop these weak joints so typical of cultivated specimens.  (A fascinating video, Chief Chekika's Not So Secret Island Hideaway in the Everglades, has footage of hammock mahoganies which tends to bear out my theory. See http://kayakfari.wordpress.com for the video).

Weak Joints on Mahogany Tree

Most of the planted mahoganies around here are still upright, but pretty mangled. They certainly don't have the elegant, rounded canopy that they should. Parking-lot and street trees suffer further indignities of having to exist in only a limited soil area, with asphalt or concrete covering what normally would the spread of the roots. They alternately gasp for moisture during dry seasons and nearly drown in wet seasons. The fact that they persist at all shows just how hard it is to kill plants in south Florida. 

Swietenia mahagoni, the "Florida," or "West Indian" mahogany, once grew in abundant stands in Florida, the West Indies, Cuba, Jamaica, the Bahamas and Hispaniola, but over-harvesting has made it rare in nature. As early as 1775, a book by Bernard Romans, A Concise Natural History of East and West Florida, noted about mahogany that, "little or none now remains here." (Cited by Florida Mahogany Project)*. The plant in the wild is considered "threatened and endangered" in Florida, and harvesting is illegal, though bits salvaged from storm-damaged trees may be sold. It also is illegal to import endangered Amazon mahogany, but apparently tons of it still get through into the US. Various species of Swietenia grow well in plantations, but it is said that the wood of cultivated trees does not have the rich red coloration of native specimens. 

Mahogany was valued highly for ship building, not only for its durability, but especially because it did not splinter. In the era of wooden ships, flying splinters were as lethal to sailors as cannon shot itself. The beauty of mahogany's deep red wood also made it ideal for fine furniture and interior ornamentation. 

Young trees have reddish bark, while the bark of older trees is greyer and more fissured. Flowers are inconspicuous, and supposedly  fragrant. I've never seen one, since they are high up on the tree. (I'll have to start looking for some young trees)! 

Mahoganies may not be suitable for small yards because of their potentially large size and aggressive lateral root system, but in the right situation, they are majestic, up to 60 feet tall, with a large, rounded crown. Some people think they are messy because of their annual leaf drop, but then some people evidently don't have enough to worry about. 

Because mahoganies have somewhat fern-like leaves - in botanical language, pinnately-compound leaves -  they cast dappled, not deep, shade. What looks like a leaf is actually a leaflet, and a complete mahogany leaf has 5-8 pairs of paired leaflets. The leaf itself is 4 - 10 inches long, with leaflets 2 - 2- and-a-half inches long and a half-inch to a little over and inch wide. New growth is purplish-pink, turning to spring green, and then throughout the summer assumes a deeper green. Leaflets are elliptical to lance-shaped, with asymmetrical bases, and slightly pointed tips. They are smooth and shiny on top, and slightly duller underneath. 

3 Young Mahogany Leaves 
Somewhat Atypical in number of Leaflet Pairs

The fruit is a woody capsule, slightly pear-shaped, 3-5 inches long, and around 3 inches wide at the base. It is held on a stalk, and when ripe, splits from the base upward. Inside, winged seeds are pressed tightly together around a central column. An opened capsule still containing its seeds is beautiful. Some people varnish them to keep them intact.

Opened Capsule Showing Seeds;
Central Column Removed

An ironic twist to the mahogany story is that while it is threatened in habitat, the Florida Native Plant Society reports that there are instances when it can become invasive outside its natural range. 

More information on the Florida Mahogany Project and be found on its Facebook page, and in an article on the website http//www.Floridajourneys.com.

Greenbacked Heron Guests

 Three greenbacked herons have been visisting our backyard lately. Since they basically are solitary birds, my guess is that it is a pair with last-year's offspring still hanging around, but who knows? I see a single bird more often than the group, but they are incredibly good at blending in with the shadows and foliage. This particular one likes to perch on the rim of a lotus pot that is more out in the open. 

Greenbacked Heron - On Right Has Raised Crest

The birds are about the size of a small crow. Their coloration and habit of sitting very still for long periods,  (in bird time, at least), make them hard to pick out within the  dappled light of low branches. I observe them from inside a screened porch, which makes them even harder to spot. 

Despite their common names - greenbacked, little green, green heron - they appear mostly slate blue or a murky teal on their backs, upper wing backs, and crests. It is only in certain light that a green iridiscence is visible. The breast and neck of "our" birds are a rich chestnut with a few white streaks, and the bird's underparts are grayish. Juveniles are browner, and have a white breast streaked with chestnut. The legs are supposed to be yellow, but through the screen, the legs of my visitor seem to be pinkish-beige. Breeding males sport bright orange legs. Another common name is "shietpoke," apparently in reference to its habit of letting fly when flushed, and "skeow," because of its call.

Perching, Colored Pencil

With their often squat posture, the bird's size can be a little hard to judge, because it can "telescope" its long neck in and out. The extended neck is about the length of the bird's body. The greenbacks's hunching posture results from retracting the neck. That posture along with the size is enough to id a greenbacked heron in this area. A former neighbor who often saw the bird fishing from a sagging docking line interpreted this pose as aggressive, and called the bird "Mr. Ugly." Mr. Ugly did have the unlovely habit of chasing away any other birds trying to infringe on his fishing grounds, but as far as I have observed, the behavior is typical of most birds. 

Postures
(The Neck is Longer in Relation to the Body than Shown)

Their legs are short for herons, so they stick mostly to the shallows when they feed by wading. Some have been reported to dive. I've never seen that behavior with greenbacks, but I have watched a great blue egret dive from a dock into about 3-4 feet of water to hunt for fish attracted by a snook light. This went on night after night. The little greens here like to hunt from low-hanging docking lines, and a conduit leading from the seawall to our dock. (The conduit runs under the dock, so the bird is well-hidden). At low tide they will perch on oysters that have accumulated on the seawall. In nature, they hunt from exposed roots and low branches.

Little greens also know how to fish, dropping small bits of sticks, straw and prey into the water to attract minnows. They also deliberately stir up prey from  the bottom when wading.

Their diet consists of minnows, crustaceans, insects and mollusks. An avid birdwatching acquaintance observed little greens coughing up bits of shell and bones. Maybe it was clearing its craw?

The most common calls are a metallic, repeated "kuk-kuk-kuk," and an explosive, rather high-pitched "skeow." I hear both, and sometimes either duets or duels of the "skeow" cry. Some of my bird books say that the "yuk-kuk" is an alarm call, while others give the "skeow" cry that purpose. I often hear both calls without seeing the birds at all.

My solitary visitor likes to drink from the lotus pot, and also spends a lot of time staring at the water. It's early days for tadpoles, but I won't be surprised if I see it fishing for them this summer.

Both sexes work to build the nest, and both feed the baby birds by regurgitating. The baby birds quickly become adept at climbing.

Front Cover

When I started this blog I vowed not to be a perfectionist when it came to my sketches. I've certainly fulfilled that pledge with my attempts to portray birds. My summer project will be making my way through John Muir Laws' book, The Laws Guide to Drawing Birds. (Audubon, 2012).  A lot of this information is included in his Laws Guide to Nature Drawing and Journaling, which I can't recommend highly enough. It was published in 2016. John Muir Laws offers many instructional videos and tips on his site, johnmuirlaws.com.

Front Cover

This book is one of the best on nature drawing and journaling I have read. It combines plenty of detailed instruction - not just exhortations to "do this," - and plenty of inspiration. If you don't want to buy  2 books, this one contains the gist of Laws's book on bird drawing. 

Great Sketching Book for Children

 I wrote the following review of Jean Mackay's The Nature Explorer's Sketchbook: For the Art of Your Discoveries, for a local weekly. It never was published, so I'm running it here.

Front Cover

Want to introduce children to the natural world, or just get them away from their digital toys? Jean Mackay’s The Nature Explorer’s Sketchbook is a great start. The book combines instruction with an enthusiastic invitation to get involved with nature. Artist-author Mackay writes on the very first page, “The world is a Big and fascinating place. Let’s go out and explore it.”

 

The firsts 25 pages of the book introduce the reader to nature journaling, with plenty of specific sketching ideas along with very basic drawing and painting instructions.

 

With roughly 55 blank pages following, the book is designed for immediate action, making it easy to jump from reading to doing. Some of the blank pages are subdivided into smaller squares and rectangles - a subtle way of introducing children to page design. The stretch of blank pages is broken up with “Try This” ideas, which keeps interest and enthusiasm from flagging.

 

From the initial “This Book Belongs To “___” to the last page, the book actually becomes the child’s work as much as the author’s. In fact, Mackay stresses, “You make your own rules - it's your book."  As for feeling discouraged, her advice is practical, “If you draw something you don’t like, just turn the page and try again.” In this way Mackay motivates the reader to keep going, and when it is finished the child will have a real sense of accomplishment along with a personal record of discoveries and experiences.

Artwork By Jean Maccay

Jean Mackay incorporates language with her own sketches, and writing is as important as drawing in this book. Combining writing with drawing helps establish a deep connection between the observer and world being observed.  She writes, “The more you sketch the more you will see.” That is true of writing as well. 

 

She doesn’t stop with generalities, but gives specific tips like noting sensations, the weather and how the sketcher feels. One exercise is to fill a space entirely of words written large or small, decorated or not, to describe the sense of a place. 

 

She also encourages the reader to write down questions about what is being sketched, looking up information later, and adding answers. Some questions about a plant, for example, could be whether it is edible, what the various parts are called, why it is growing where it is, and so forth.

 

In content and organization this childrens’ book does not differ materially from similar books for adults. The difference lies in the amount of detail about techniques and materials.  While just a little more information on materials and techniques might have been welcome here, the author clearly wants to get children involved and excited immediately. In view of this goal, less is likely better. 

 

Mackay mentions that a heavier paper than what is in the book would be better for watercolor. I tried a small, wet sketch. While the paper buckled, it didn’t start to disintegrate or tear, and it dried fairly flat. As long as the user doesn’t go hog wild with water or scrubbing, the paper in the book should be fine for starters. 

 

The current emphasis on the STEM curriculum – science, technology, engineering and mathematics – raises the question of whether the creative arts will be neglected or ignored in the education of young people. A book like The Nature Explorer’s Sketchbook shows how language and art can go hand-in glove with these categories.  The subtitle, For the Art of Your Discoveries, says it all. 

 

The book is enlivened with Mackay’s delightfully fresh and energetic sketches, mostly done in watercolor. While this kind of seemingly loose and spontaneous style actually takes years to perfect, it is not intimidating, and perfectly suited to her topic and audience. She does not talk down to her audience, and constantly seeks to encourage and inspire.

Back Cover

Older teenagers might find this book too juvenile, but curiously enough, it probably would appeal to busy grownups for the same reasons it would please children. If you buy this book for your offspring, you may end up wishing you had a copy for yourself. The book would be a wonderful resource for teachers, day camps, and whole-family activities.  

 

The book is published by Tumblehome Press, a non-profit childrens’ book publishing company that aims “to inspire a love of science through the power of story.”

 

It is a sturdy paperback, 10 x 7 inches large, and has good –quality binding, that should withstand a good deal of abuse. Considering the cost of books and decent drawing paper, this little manual is very reasonable at $16.99. It’s release date was Nov. 1, 2020. It is perfect for summer vacation activities and gifts.

Jean Maccay has a great blog, "Drawn In." Check it out.

Signs of Spring

Just a few days ago I heard the familiar lament, "I like Florida, but I really miss the change of seasons." We don't have jonquils and crocus, but  there are plenty of signs heralding the advent of spring in SW Florida. As for color signals, what more do you need than the show put on by flowering trees - deep yellow Tabebuia,cooling lavender Jacaranda, delicate pink masses of flowering almond - just to name a few.  

The trees named above aren't native to Florida, but so much goes on in March in the natural world that I labeled 2 posts "March Madness" in 2017. This year has been a little crazy apart from the garden, and  I have made many more scribbled notes than sketches. I hope to catch up on some of the later spring manifestations.

The return of the swallow-tailed kites is a sure sign that the winter has turned. I spotted my first one of this year in the second week of March. These striking white-and- black-marked raptors demonstrate how little color has to do with real beauty. No matter how many I've seen, a soaring swallow-tailed kite still takes my breath away. Author and artist David Allen Sibley talks of their,"unmistakeable; incredibly graceful, flowing flight."(The Sibley Guide to Birds, p. 111). The birds don't use just their tail feathers for maneuvering, but also can twist their entire lower body to execute their aerial acrobatics.

Swallow-tailed kites nest in tall trees in hardwood forests, and due to development, especially intense timbering and replacement of mixed forests with pine plantations, their range in the U.S. has shrunk drastically. They used to nest as far north as Minnesota. Now they are limited to peninsular Florida, and the coasts of Georgia, South Carolina, Alabama, Mississippi, and eastern Louisiana. They return to South America in the fall. 

They pluck their prey - reptiles, amphibians, insects and small birds from the treetops or catch and eat them in flight. I haven't read that they do so, but I wouldn't be surprised to find that they also rob nests of other species. Perhaps that is calumny, but "Mother Nature" isn't kind, and she doesn't always go by the rules.

Frangipani, Plumeria sp., isn't native to Florida, but it consumes few, if any, resources, and isn't invasive. It is a quintessential "pass-along" plant. I got mine from a sister, who got hers from a friend. All you have to do to grow it is stick a branch into the dirt, water a little, and watch it grow. Once it is established it needs no irrigation or fertilizer. (At least the one in our yard behaves that way). There are many species and varieties, but the only two I see around the neighborhood are a  pink-flowered and a yellow-flowered one. Ours is  yellow-flowered, and fragrant. Frangipani is one of the flowers traditionally used in Hawaiin leis.

Frangipani Flower Cluster

Once the weather is good and dry, frangipanis lose all their leaves, and look completely dead and more than slightly creepy - like some sort of alien life form, which is just waiting to emerge and wreak havoc. 

Dormant Frangipani Branch

I used a variety of colored pencils to capture the gray-green, turgid look of these branchlets, which really do resemble dead fingers. The true color is something in between all my attempts. The large dry markings are leaf scars from previous seasons, and the squiggly maroonish things at the very tip are nascent leaves. New growth literally bursts through the skin. Buds and stems don't magically appear on the branches, but rupture the skin, leaving oozing wounds. 

Last month, bloom stalks capped with numerous flower buds started rising from the branch tips, and now the first flowers have opened. The plant is a member of the Dogbane Family, and all parts, including the white sap, are somewhat poisonous. I haven't found the sap irritating, but I haven't gotten much on my skin, and other people might have a reaction to it.

Emerging Flower Stalk
Maroon Structures are Young Leaves

The Great Southern White and Florida White butterflies reappear in mid-to-late March. Both occur here about the same time, and I'm not quick enough to id them on the fly. When we first moved here in 1994, we would see great swarms of white butterflies, but now we see them singly or maybe in pairs. If you can get close enough to see them, the bright turquoise tips on the antennae are a dead giveaway for the Great Southern White.

White Butterflies:
Great Southern White, Left, and Florida White, Right

The emergence of lubber grasshopper nymphs is also a marker for spring. The nymphs start emerging in great numbers in February. So far they have defoliated one bougainvillea, and demolished the Crinums and Tradescantias. They'll all recover, with the possible exception of the Tradescantia. which really are happier in more northern sections of Florida. There must be many microorganisms that afflict the nymphs, because the number of adults I see later on is a fraction of the immature population. Both nymphs and adults allegedly are toxic to most predators. 

Newly-Emerged Lubber Nymphs

Just like "up north," perennials are forming new basal rosettes and resuming growth. Elephant's foot and rosinweed have made a fine beginning, while blackroot and Pluchea have resprouted directly.  Native grasses like Elliott's Love Grass and Pink Muhley are sending out fresh, colored blades from what clumps of dried foliage from last year. Gaillardias sown by last year's plants are germinating here and there in the yard. I leave them where they don't block a path, and try to transplant others, even though it sets them back. 

March brings persistent drying winds. Our last rain was the second week in February, and given the wind and increasing sunshine I have to water at least twice a week now, whereas during winter even the potted plants don't require a lot of attention. 

Blue-Eyed Grass

Blue-eyed grass made a magnificent display throughout late winter and early spring, but is going to seed now. The tickseed is also beginning to appear somewhat the worse for wear.

It's March Madness in the garden all over again. There is plenty more going on, but I have to stop for now.