photography

Lagniappe for Lagniappe

~ shoreacres ~ 79 Comments
Home of Ferdinand Lindheimer ~ Father of Texas Botany
New Braunfels, Texas

In 2017, as my interest in native plants and prairies began to develop, I created this second blog as a place to share images of the flowers, grasses, and creatures that increasingly intrigued me. Meant only as ‘lagniappe’ — a little something extra for myself and for interested readers of The Task at Hand — it became much more: a tool of discovery; a way to hone photographic skills; and a way to satisfy my own curiosity about the new worlds I’d begun to encounter.

When I announced my intention to begin a new blog to readers of The Task at Hand, one commenter wondered how maintaining two blogs would go for me. How it’s gone, at least from my perspective, is wonderfully well. It’s been a good bit of work –especially if you include travel time! — but the knowledge I’ve gained from my readers and from others has equaled the enjoyment my explorations have brought.

What I never expected was that Lagniappe would be gifted some lagniappe of its own. When I learned this blog would receive the Native Plant Society of Texas’s Digital Media Award for 2021, it would be an understatement to say I was shocked.  Only the arrival of my plaque** made the award seem tangible and real.

During the awards ceremony on October 9, another surprise was yet to come. A yearly photo contest invites entrants to submit one photo from each of Texas’s twelve ecoregions. In 2019, I sumitted three photos; last year, I submitted four. This year, having traveled more extensively, I was able to submit photos from five regions; of those five, four were declared winners.

Once the awards ceremony was over and the excitement had died down, a friend asked if I was going to set any new goals for myself. Laughing, I told her I planned only to continue as I have in the past: traveling the state, learning more about our native plants, and becoming more skilled as a photographer. Then, I paused. “Maybe next year,” I said, “I’ll be able to submit photos from seven ecoregions.”

 

Comments always are welcome.
** Observant readers may have noticed that the title on the plaque isn’t “Lagniappe,” but the blog’s tagline. A new, ‘edited’ plaque is on its way, and I’ll update the image when it arrives.

The Glories of a Vacant Lot

~ shoreacres ~ 61 Comments
Deer pea vetch surrounding green milkweed ~ Asclepias viridis

One of my favorite places to roam lies along a short Brazoria County road. Dead-ending at a fish camp on Hall’s Bayou, it has a ditch and a small, triangular piece of land on one side, and a small private hay meadow on the other. Sunflowers, ladies tresses orchids, a variety of milkweeds, and some lovely blue sage all have been found on the land, but it’s generally impossible to predict what I’ll find.

On April 6, I decided to visit the spot to see what might have appeared. It was a trip well worth making.

Browne’s savory ~ Clinopodium brownei

I’ve seen this pretty ground cover for years. With the help of Michael Eason’s Wildflowers of Texas, I finally identified the tiny, complex flowers.

Closeup of Browne’s savory
Lady Bird’s centaury ~ Zeltnera texensis

Once known as Centaurium texense, Lady Bird’s centaury became Zeltnera texensis after genetic analysis split the genus Centaurium and limited Centaurium to Eurasian species, placing Lady Bird’s centaury in Zeltnera.

Named after the former First Lady, the flower resembles mountain pinks, but the isolation of individual blooms helps with identification. Most guides place the flower in the rocky soil of the hill country, but Eason notes that it has spread southeast, into the Houston area.

Spring obedient plant ~ Physostegia intermedia

Three years ago, a nearby field was filled with hundreds of these flowers. Named for their stems’ willingness to remain in place once bent, they’re not so obedient when it comes to staying in place in the garden. They can spread enthusiastically, and I hope to find more as the season goes on.

Blue-eyed grass ~ Sisyrinchium angustifolium

Like the Herbertia blooming at the Varner-Hogg plantation, this lovely plant is a member of the iris family. It’s quite common, and always appealing.

Roughstem rosinweed ~ Silphium radula

Rosinweeds have been blooming for weeks, and their sunflower-like faces always appeal. I’m equally fond of their buds and seedheads, but for now, this flower will do.

Curly dock ~ Rumax crispus

An introduced plant that has naturalized nearly everywhere in the world, curly dock often is mentioned by foragers. The flowers appear in whorls encircling the stem; here, the separation of the clusters of fruits makes the pattern visible.

Carolina Geranium ~ Geranium carolinianum

With flowers only about a third of an inch wide, this common native lawn flower is easy to overlook. After identifying it, I began to see it everywhere, even in the grassy areas of the marinas in which I work.

Slim milkweed – Asclepias linearis

Surprised as I was to find both green and slim milkweed spread across the hay meadow, they clearly had been blooming for some time. A few plants had pods developing already, and a multitude of pollinators were visiting the flowers.

Bur clover, bur medick  ~ Medicago polymorpha

Another introduced plant, bur clover reminds me of a favorite member of the pea family: Vigna luteola, or hairy cowpea, the only native species of Vigna in Texas. Small-flowered, bur clover’s blooms are about a quarter-inch wide, but its vibrant yellow makes it noticeable.

Butterweed ~ Packera tampicana

This was the year I finally began to sort out the various Packera species. Some are obvious, like the prairie grounsel (Packera plattensis) I found in the hill country, but others required deep contemplation of stems and leaves, since the flowers appear quite similar. Also called yellowtop or Great Plains ragwort, this lover of disturbed ground was growing at the edges of the ditch that had been deepened and mowed.

Sand rose gentian ~ Sabatia arenicola

Smaller and differently-leaved than the meadow pinks (Sabatia campestris) that are so common here, this pretty flower prefers sandy soil, and often can be found on the inland side of dunes. Like Lady Bird’s centaury, it was new to me, and a delight to discover.

 Delta arrowhead ~ Sagittaria platyphylla

Just add water — even in an inland ditch — and the Delta arrowhead will be happy to make itself at home. One of my favorite ‘ditch diamonds,’ I’m always happy to see its unusual and pleasing flowers.

Horrid thistle ~ Cirsium horridulum

There are a number of names for this thistle, including some that sound more like a curse than a name. Still, despite the miserable, prickly, damaging thorns, the flower is entirely approachable, and on this particular afternoon the bees were everywhere: a good reminder that the flowers we find so pleasing visually also have a purpose.

As for those vacant lots? The next time you come across one, you might want to stop, and have a look.

 

Comments always are welcome.

 

Beauty, Times Two

~ shoreacres ~ 42 Comments

 

Week after week, I watched this pair of yellowlegs as they foraged back and forth across a shallow, grassy mudflat that developed after weeks of unusually heavy rains. I never saw them fly, and I never heard them call; they were too busy plucking indeterminate creatures from the sandy mud.

While they fed, I amused myself by trying to decide if they were greater yellowlegs (Tringa melanoleuca) or lesser yellowlegs (Tringa flavipes). There are ways for an experienced birder to distinguish between them — body size, the length of the bill, the nature of their call — but I never was certain which species I was seeing until the day something startled them. Calling to one another, they flew up and away from their buffet table.  A later comparison of yellowlegs calls convinced me they were Lesser, not Greater — but no matter which species, I found them a great delight.

 

Comments always are welcome.

 

Remnants

~ shoreacres ~ 49 Comments

 

Yucca treculeana, known variously as Spanish dagger, Spanish Bayonet, Don Quixote’s Lance, or Palmito, is a familiar sight in Texas. It begins life as a small, sharp-leaved shrub (see some examples here) but can grow to several feet in height while producing the large clusters of impressive, cream-colored flowers that draw people’s attention.

As the plant grows, dead leaves collect and hang beneath the living. Occasionally, the weight of those leaves, combined with the death of the plant, will topple the yucca to the ground, where it offers shelter to nesting birds, refuge to various other creatures, and opportunities to a photographer.

This one, on the Willow City Loop north of Fredericksburg, Texas, pleased me especially.

 

 

A Beauty, Not a Beast

~ shoreacres ~ 58 Comments
Double-crested cormorant (Phalacrocorax auritus) sunning at the Brazoria Wildlife Refuge

 

If beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, so, too, might ugliness. Underwater, the cormorant’s a swift, graceful predator: astonishing in its ability to glide and dive, sweeping up uncounted fish in the process. But once it exchanges the water for land, many consider the bird — songless, lacking in bright colors, awkward and somewhat ill-proportioned — to be as ugly as any on the planet.

When I had the opportunity to spend some time with a remarkably accepting cormorant recently, a closer look revealed some interesting, and even attractive, characteristics.


Its lightly serrated beak, hooked at the end, allows it to hold its prey firmly. Why this one continually opened and closed its beak while I watched, I can’t say; perhaps it was showing off for the camera.

Its long, flexible neck, capable of twisting and bending like a heron’s, allows it to preen even the most hard-to-reach feathers. Secretions from its uropygial gland, more commonly known as the preen gland, are composed of  a mixture of waxes, fatty acids, lipids, and water.

As the bird preens, rubbing the glandular secretions through its plumage,  some waterproofing may take place, but the primary benefit is to keep its feathers supple and in good condition. The familiar spread-wing posture cormorants assume when out of the water generally is agreed to be a method of feather drying.

For years, I saw cormorants only at a distance, and assumed them to be pure black. Instead, their feathers are a mixture of brown and black, with occasional flashes of iridescence. The brown head feathers, thick and velvety,  are especially attractive, and help to set off their turquoise eyes. Sitting eye-to-eye with such a placid and receptive creature is an uncommon treat.

Comments always are welcome. For a poem dedicated to this fine bird, see my current post at The Task at Hand.