Eryngo, Too

Blueflower Eryngo ~ Eryngium integrifolium

Despite obvious similarities to the Hooker’s Eryngo currently blooming in my friend’s pasture, the Blueflower Eryngo I occasionally find in east Texas displays narrower bracts, a less-spiny apperance, and smaller, more rounded flowers. Also known as simple leaf eryngo, the plant sometimes is called  blue-flower coyote-thistle, although several other eryngos are known by the name coyote-thistle, including Eryngium vaseyi: a plant endemic to California.

Members of the carrot family, a few Eryngium species host larvae of the Eastern Black Swallowtail butterfly, but blueflower eryngo isn’t one; other members of the genus are better choices for a butterfly garden.

That said, it’s an exceptionally pretty plant that thrives in a moist environment. Found in late summer to early fall in wet pinelands, savannahs, damp woods, and bogs, it’s said to prefer the same areas as pitcher plants and grass pink orchids. In fact, that’s where I found these: in the Big Thicket area of east Texas.

 

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A Hint of Things to Come

 

A tall and dramatic Liatris species, this prairie blazing star, Liatris pycnostachya, will come into full flower later in the summer. It blooms from the top down; here, it shows the first hints of its future color, as well as the pleasing structure of its buds.

 

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A Bouquet in a Blossom

 

If you enjoy a mixed bouquet, the Maryland milkwort (Polygala mariana) might appeal. Its pink-to-purple petals, combined with brightly colored accents, attracts the eye despite its small size; the densely-packed racemes of the plants shown here were only a half-inch in length.

As its name suggests, the plant can be found throughout the southeast and up the east coast. In Texas, it blooms in moist open pinelands and savannahs or on seepage slopes, and often is found in the sandy soils of the Big Thicket. At the Watson Rare Plant Preserve, Maryland milkwort filled a sunny, open area near the snowy orchids; in the Big Thicket’s Solo tract, they lay scattered along a sandy service road.

Several online sources describe the plant as having a single infloresence atop a simple stem, but I frequently have found the stem that supports the flowers branching near the top. 

Seen from above, the flowers have a pleasing symmetry. I found the bits of yellow described as stamen sheaths, but haven’t found a single online reference to the orange. The shape suggests they might be stamens; if anyone knows, I’ll add the information.***

In the meantime, I’ll enjoy yet another new flower from the Piney Woods: an intricate and colorful ‘mixed bouquet.’

 

 *** I found more information about the flowers’ various parts in a discussion of a related species: Polygala sanguinea, or purple milkwort.

It seems the lavender ‘petals’ actually are sepals, while the yellow and orange tube-like structures are the fused petals of individual flowers. At the center of the inflorescence, you can see unopened buds. As for color changes in the floral tubes, here’s what the article says:

“What explains the different colors of the floral tubes? If you look carefully, the yellow flowers are closest to the center of the display. They are the most recently in bloom, open for business, the bright yellow actively beckoning pollinators. The peach flowers have been open longer, and are shutting down. The deep pink flowers have been in bloom the longest, and are no longer seeking pollinators for themselves. This kind of color change is usually a plant adaptation to direct pollinators only to the receptive flowers that have not yet been pollinated. It makes the most efficient use of the pollinator’s efforts from the perspective of both the pollinator and the plant.”

As it turns out, ‘bouquet’ was a perfect description.

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What a Difference a Week Makes

Fewflower milkweed, April 26

Nestled among the ferns lining the boardwalk at the Watson Rare Native Plant Preserve, this pretty orange milkweed fairly glowed. Initially, its color tempted me to think I’d found butterfly milkweed (Asclepias tuberosa), but the purplish cast to the flower’s center, the single stem, and thin leaves suggested otherwise.

In fact, I’d come across fewflower milkweed, Asclepias lanceolata. A species native to coastal plains of the United States from New Jersey to Florida to southeastern Texas, its bright, reddish-orange flowers frequently appear in marshes, or wet pine barrens characterized by well-draining sandy or loamy soil. A host plant for monarch, queen, and soldier butterfly larvae, A. lanceolata also provides nectar for adult butterflies and insects.

Tall, with lance-shaped leaves opposite one another on the stem, the plant  branches near the top into one to three umbels.  Each contains an average of only seven flowers, giving the milkweed its common name: fewflower. When I returned to the preserve a week after finding the plant with partially opened flowers, nearly all in its three umbels had opened, making its few flowers very impressive, indeed.

The same fewflower milkweed on May 3

 

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Extra credit if you already know which song gave rise to the title.

 

Carolina on My Mind

 

In the process of exploring East Texas, I’ve become intrigued by the number of plants in the region that bear ‘Carolina’ in their name. Carolina larkspur; Carolina buckthorn; Carolina elephant’s foot; Carolina crane’s-bill: I’ve seen and photographed them all.

One of the most delightful Carolina namesakes is the Carolina lily (Lilium michauxii), the official state wildflower of North Carolina.  Found in the oak-pine woodlands and forests of deep east Texas, it’s an uncommon Texas native, and uncommonly beautiful.

The plant bears one to six blooms at the top of each stem. Its six tepals (three petals and three sepals) are strongly reflexed, or bent backward; six slender filaments with brown anthers protrude from the center of the flower, as does a long style with a three-lobed stigma. 

While similar to the Turk’s Cap lily (Lilium superbum), there’s quite a difference in size. Carolina lily usually is two to three feet tall, while the Turk’s Cap lily is much taller, and bears more than twice as many flowers.

 

Named by fellow botanist and explorer Jean Louis Marie Poiret (1755-1834) for French botanist Andre Michaux, who traveled widely in the southeastern United States, the lily did some traveling of its own, expanding its range all the way to Texas. Finding it at the Watson Rare Plant Preserve was an unexpected treat.

 

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