firsts

Although the time of the tulips is over, life goes on. With the warmer weather, the first flowers of some species are just opening. The first chocolate flower (Berlandiera lyrata, above) opened today, and I crouched down to the ground to sniff its cocoa goodness.

The very first flowers of Penstemon heterophyllus 'Margarita BOP' opened this week, just a hint of the show to come.

The very first of the Blackfoot daisy (Melampodium leucanthum) opened yesterday, looking a little distorted. I expect that the perky daisies will open more perfectly within the week.


The sulfur buckwheat (Eriogonum umbellatum) has shed its winter burgundy, and has begun its spring show of chrome yellow. In a few weeks the yellow will turn golden and then accented red before fading.
The first flowers of this bearded iris (sold to me as 'Immortality') are opening today. I planted it last year, and although it developed many growths, it didn't bloom on them as 'Immortality' is suppposed to. I'll see what happens this year.
The great thing about this time of year is that despite the passing of some flowers, others are just beginning. It's the time of year to appreciate the flowers, for as summer's heat comes, there will be less.

lasts

The last of the tulips have faded, the petals suddenly shriveling and dropping. When they were blooming, I would sit and look at them, thinking that this moment in time will never happen again, and that the flowers, so ephemeral, would be gone in a few days. That moment, however, felt like forever, as if the tulips blooming was the only existence possible, for it was the only moment that I existed in. Which is, of course, how we all live, whether live that way mentally or not. Photography feels a bit melancholy, a way to try to live in the past. As such, is photography a negative force, preventing us from living in the present?

The tulips have faded. Their time is past. It is the way of life.

GGW: picture this photo contest

Gardening Gone Wild is having a native plant photo contest. Some really cool plants and photos have been posted. So of course that had me thinking: what would I submit? Since the limit is three photos, should I submit photos with cool plants or photos that are great shots? Sigh. Well, here are the photos that I've chosen, simply because they are some of my favorite photos of plants native to New Mexico, technical merits aside (as you can see, I like the P. linaroides so much, it's my banner), but I think I'm going to post some runner-up's in a different post simply because there are so many cool plants out there. (Penstemon linarioides above, Nolina texana below, and Echinocereus reichenbachii var. caespitosa bottom)

mountains

This is why they call these mountains the Sandia ("Watermelon") Mountains. Those magic few moments as the sun is about to set, when the mountains turn a luscious color, create an image complete with seeds (trees scattered in the cliff faces) and a rim of green (more trees). As you can see, the snow from Friday has melted.

Hmm, now that I'm looking at it again, I'm sure there are plenty better pictures out there than what I've captured here. This photo actually makes me think they should be called the Carne Mountains.

The sunset tonight was rather tame by New Mexico standards, but the photo turned out nice. That's Mount Taylor in the lower left. I like the way the clouds just left of center look like another mountain, floating up there. Maybe it's Avalon.

Ceanothus caeruleus

I'm amazed that my Ceanothus caeruleus is starting to bloom. I noticed this first cluster beginning a few days ago. Last year, after winter damage and a hard pruning, the plant started blooming in late July. I was singing its praises in August.

Here it is April, a full three months earlier than last year, and the first flowers are opening. The difference is that this year, after a relatively mild winter, there was much less dieback, and the buds on the ends of the twigs developed flower buds. I'm surprised and impressed, since as you know, I can never get enough of blue flowers. If last year was any indication, this shrub will continue to bloom until November. Not bad, eh?

Then when you realize that this species is not even supposed to survive here, and that the plant tolerates dry conditions, and is not bothered by insects or the rabbits, you might understand why I'm so excited. Granted, the show is not (so far) as exciting as the Ceanothus in California, but those species on the coast bloom for a few weeks in the spring and then are done.

And to think that I almost took the plant out and discarded it, since it looked so severely winter damaged the first and second years. Now it's all: "yes sir, that's my baby; no sir, don't mean maybe; yes sir, that's my baby now!"

Too bad it's crowding out the Eremurus. What do you do when your kids fight?

two blues

One of the plants I most look forward to seeing bloom in the spring is this Veronica (above, close up, and below, in the garden). Sold to me as Veronica tauricula, a web search only finds Veronica tauricola, which looks subtly different in the web photos. This year's cold has decreased the number of flowers slightly, but it is still a delight. It required a season or two with irrigation to get established, but now seems to look the same whether I water it or not.

Salvia 'May Night' (below) is a stalwart, surviving drought, neglect, shade, sun. It looks better in sun and with constant moisture, which encourages a more dramatic bloom and rebloom. Without irrigation only the basal leaves survive, and in a shrivelled state. Once established, it will regrow from roots if you try to remove it, although with perseverance it can be eradicated in a season or two.

Yellow Bird

My sister gave me this Psychopsis papilio 'Yellow Bird' a number of years ago (9? 10?). From a clump of low four-inch leaves, the thread-thin stems grow three feet long with 5-1/2 x 2-5/8 inch flowers. The stems last many years and produce flowers sequentially at the tips during the warm months. Due to the thin stems the flowers dance on any breeze, and the thin stems disappear against a green background of foliage, making the flowers look like a number of butterflies fluttering. The typical form of Pyschopsis papilio is yellow with orange to brown bars. This form is almost an albino.

brr.

When I went out, the neighborhood was in a cloud bank. When it cleared, the mountains looked like this. I soon discovered that handling metal in the cold is not a lot of fun.

welcome back winter. heh.

I'm NOT amused.

tulips

Tulipa clusiana (above) and Tulipa batalinii 'Red Gem' (below). Photos always seem to miss the grace of T. clusiana, as well as the attractive pie-crust leaves.

snow? snow!

Woke up today with yet more snow. Now I'm really wondering what it's going to do with the garden this year. The sage (above) was really crusted with ice.




Salvia 'May Night' and tulips, looking pretty tough.


Eremurus, seeming to withstand whatever the weather brings. We'll see if I get flowers by the end of May.


Veronica tauricola (may not be an accurate name, but that's what the label said), this morning.
Veronica tauricola , this afternoon.

monterey wanderings

Just wandering about. Considering that my garden in Albuquerque is still predominantly brown...

It rained much of the time. But this pacific coast hybrid iris was still beautiful.
Echium fastuosum. Almost a weed in these parts. Heh. A weed. I wish I had a few photos of the Ceanothus. Some were 15-20 feet tall (a tree in Albuquerque) and absolutely, solidly covered in blue.
I'm not sure which Grevillea this is.

Sights along the bay front walking path.

Monterey

On another interview, I took a few photos at Point Lobos.

Kelp, from a great height (I think my interviewer thought I was going to fall off the cliff when I took this photo, as he warned my twice not to fall). Each "leaf" blade is about 2-3 feet long.


The California poppies were going gangbusters.


Dudleya clinging to the rocks.



Sea lions with pups. It's birthing time and the beach was closed. Good thing I had my zoom lens.

family photos

My father gave my sister these Chinese ground orchids (Bletilla hyacintha) a number of years ago. She put them in the only space she had, and ignored them. They bloom like this every year. In case you are wondering, they are indeed a true orchid.


This is the hill behind another sister's house. Don't you want to find out what is on the top?


My father has a few lovelies blooming, such as this Bleeding Heart (Dicentra spectabilis).


My father obtained this Dendrobium kingianum from my second oldest sister. They are grown outdoors all year round. The half-inch blooms are fragrant, but only at a certain time of the day.


The cymbidiums are starting to fade, but are still looking pretty spectacular. They grow outdoors year round. What you don't see here are the rows of these orchids at various houses in the neighborhood, each row made up of 15-20 pots.

furry beasts

I like the ones that are a little fuzzy. Oh so touchable.


Stachys lanata


Origanum dictamnus


Ballota pseudodictamnus


Salvia argentea (seedling)


Artemesia versicolor


Salvia daghestanica

bellevalia

I believe this is Bellevalia pycnantha, also known as Muscari paradoxum. It looks much like a grape hyacinth, although the color is a difficult-to-photograph but dramatic dark navy blue (compare to my earlier post on muscari), and individual flowers are angular rather than globular. It blooms rather late in muscari season. The combination of dark flowers and strong upright leaves makes for a plant larger and more elegant than the floppy leaves and forthright casual flowers of Muscari armeniacum. It is not a flower that will grab your attention from 30 feet away, or from 5 feet away for that matter. One has to look for them. But they are certainly worth looking for. I'd like to combine them with something cream colored that blooms at the same time.