Panorama of the Storm Basin

When I was at Deukmejian Wilderness Park the other day, I just shot a bunch of pictures. Later, it seemed like I might have enough to piece together a panorama of the storm basin that catches debris and water draining from the Angeles National Forest on our side of Mt. Lukens (which we consider to be "our mountain"). It's there to protect our community from catastrophes like the 1934 flood. (By the way, Woodie Guthrie wrote a song about that flood.)

Up top is my panorama. (You'll definitely need to click on the picture for a better view.) Next is my view of Mt. Lukens from the Deukmejian lower picnic area. (An earlier post shows this area during the 2009 Station Fire.) Below is a satellite view that I ripped off from Google so I could add my little arrows.

Also Nice Shriveled

Calla Lily. Pencil Plant in background. Then, another shriveled Calla.

Shriveled, Not Unlovely

Anne and I have been talking about removing spent flowers and seed pods from our Irises. For reasons that may be revealed here, I delay the inevitable maintenance as long as I can. That's Eleanor Roosevelt (above and below) and English Cottage (bottom).

Buggin' Out

At first, I only noticed the two honker eyeballs on this spider, whom I have now identified as Agelenopsis sp. (thanks to spiders pages by UC Berkeley's College of Natural Resources and Arthropods of Orange County), a.k.a. Grass Spider, builder of funnel-shaped webs in low shrubs, such as this, my not-yet-blooming butterfly bush.

Here's the crazy thing: These guys have EIGHT eyes! My picture isn't zoomed in enough to really make them all out, but the eyes are in three rows. The top and bottom rows have two eyes each; the middle row has four. Pretty awesome, if you ask me.

Next up is the ladybug garden ornament mom and dad gave me when I saw them in Austin. I put it next to my struggling little rhubarb plant in the back yard. Like me, my dad has a real thing for rhubarb and rhubarb pie in particular. It's really hard to find in grocery stores because, if they carry it at all, it's only in season for a few weeks in the early spring. When my local Whole Foods has it, it's usually $8.99 per pound, and it takes two pounds to make one pie. I've found it at Von's for $3.99 or even $2.99 per pound, but I missed this year's rhubarb shipment, if there was one, altogether.

So it makes sense to try to grow rhubarb oneself, no? If only it were so easy! It's a cool (but not cold) weather plant that gets wiped out by heat. Dad had the worst luck with it in Tennessee. This year, I thought I'd give it a try when I saw the Victoria type bulbs at OSH. There was some decent growth happening at first, but then we had a brief snap of 90+ degree temperatures, and the leaves all wilted to the ground. They kind of tried to perk up again, but then something ate the living daylights out of them — perhaps snails or slugs? I haven't caught the culprit. Now, I have this one good-looking leaf, along with about three very small struggling ones and two semi-wilted eaten-up ones. The biggest stalk is completely dead.

While in Austin, we visited a favorite spot, Tom Dromgoole's The Natural Gardener, and they had some amazing-looking rhubarb plants. I couldn't believe my eyes. It's hot there, hotter than it's been here, and yet...  The workers told dad that the rhubarb takes a lot of tending to, but I wish I knew what I'm doing wrong. Like most gardeners, I'm willing to do whatever it takes. I just don't know what that is. Rhubarb Pie Gods and Goddesses, please enlighten me!

Finally, I share three pictures of Musca domestica Linnaeus (Insecta: Diptera: Muscidae). Okay, yes, it's the Common House Fly. Three different flies, three different locations: above, on my Aeonium canariense succulent (identified using Geoff Stein's page at Dave's Garden); below, on a spent iris; and at the bottom, on my Sedum diffusum (minor form) succulent flowers (identified using the insane Sedum photos site).

 

Flies clearly adore all kinds of succulents and succulent flowers, but they seem to get truly HIGH on Carrion Flower, a.k.a. Starfish Flower, a.k.a. Giant Zulu, a.k.a. Stapelia gigantea (info. at Cal Poly Plant Conservatory). If you missed by two previous posts on that foul-smelling beauty, click here.

Cochineal Nopal Cactus (Prickly Pear)

Opuntia cochenillifera, according to the USDA site, lives only in Florida and Hawaii, but I have one that's growing like an absolute beast here in California. (I'm hesitant to prune it. It's "spineless," but that only means its prickles are invisible. You can't even feel them right away. Pretty soon, you have a hundred of them in each finger plus on every part of your body you've touched, and now they're irritating the skin like all get-out. They're blond and oh-so fine — sometimes even ungrabbable with a tweezers — but powerfully annoying. But I digress.)

In my earlier post, I mentioned that its flowers are not like the other Prickly Pears' flowers in my neighborhood, the others being petaled and yellow while mine are not. For comparison, here's a kind of random picture I took a while back of my neighbor's plant. (His is not "spineless.")

 

Well, I think the true flower might actually be that yellow thingy that extends out of all the pink bells-and-whistles, kind of like how Bougainvillea flowers are the little white guys, not the brightly colored bracts that we notice. This is a 2009 picture of my now dearly departed Bougainvillea with two sweet little flowers among all those bracts. Are they called "bracts" on the Prickly Pear, too?

Here's the weird thing that happens post-flower and pre-fruit:

That's what I really wanted to show you. I'll post what happens next.

More Mourning Cloak

Okay, definitely. Definitely, the Mourning Cloak (three of them now) are here to eat rotting loquats. . .

. . . and to "be together". . .

. . . and to contemplate life on a shriveled iris flower.

Mourning Cloak Butterfly

Nymphalis antiopa (Linnaeus, 1758)

Who doesn't love to identify and name? Mourning Cloak. Mourning Cloak! How wonderful!

At the ever-informative Butterflies and Moths of North America site, I learned, "Overwintered adults mate in the spring, the males perching in sunny openings during the afternoon to wait for receptive females." Mm-hmm. Likely.


And: "They will also feed on rotting fruit." We have plenty of rotting loquats right now because the parrots didn't return this year to feast. (As a matter of fact, the parrots haven't been flying over our house every morning and at dusk as in past years. It's sad.)

This particular butterfly has also been landing on the one geranium plant, which was holding a little water in a few of its cupped leaves, to drink. (That picture didn't come out well.)


Finally, a May Swenson poem, which mentions a Morning Cloak. I like.

Austin Trip

Tomatoes, Cactus, & Lavender

Something happened to the main stem of my first tomato plant to yield fruit. It just shriveled for about an inch and a half and the whole plant fell over. The three medium-sized tomatoes continued on to turn red, but they weren't really mature. I still have four other plants. Shown are the first tomatoes from them, from the "Marion" Heirloom plant, specifically.

 

In the front yard, I have this cactus with insane six-inch spines. Twice now, I've accidentally backed into this guy while watering surrounding plants, ending (no pun intended) up with a very sore rear. Also pictured is Mexican Feather Grass.

Lavender flowers. I love the bluish-purple with lime green combination. That bright green is from the Ice Plant (Aptenia Corbifolia "Red Apple") in the background.

Red Yucca Flower Stalks

These flower stalks are taller than I am, and I'm pretty tall. You're looking at the part right below that flowers where there appears to be a sweet little face. In general, this is a view from the way-back of the garden looking back toward the house. In the background are African Daisies (fuzzy purple dots), Dianthus (fuzzy pink dots), the goldfish pond (blurry pale blue in the center), a bird bath (blurry ultramarine blue), and various green areas (Horsetail Reed, Irises, Dwarf Date Palm, Weeping Sedge, Acanthus, etc.)

Eleanor, meet Holga. Holga, Eleanor.

Finally bought a cheap-o Holga toy camera ($29) and shot my first three rolls (Fujicolor Pro 400H, 120 film). And what photographic voyage of mine would be complete without a shot of Irises? So, here 'tis! This was also my first voyage into medium-format photography. I think I'm hooked already. The Holga is so crappy and clunky — such a refreshing change from by digital Nikon! And of course, there's something about film, something very, very special. (I had to say "special." Long story.)


*I was disturbed to learn, while researching Iris varieties for a friend, that 'Eleanor Roosevelt' may actually be 'Mallory Kay.' It's not a huge deal, since I originally picked this iris by sight (not by name), but San Souci Iris Nursery told me they are 'Eleanor,' and I have referred to them as such for about eight years. You know what? I'm gonna keep on!