Ceanothus - California's Native Version of Lilac

Ceanothus, commonly called wild lilac, is a chaparral plant that takes the form of a shrub. The clumps of small flowers arranged on the tips of its branches create inflorescences similar to lilacs, but that's where the similarity ends. True lilacs are deciduous and thirsty, while ceanothus are evergreen and drought tolerant.

Ceanothus can also take a variety of shapes: ground-hugging prostrate subspecies, like the popular 'Carmel Creeper', or  shrubs like 'Yankee Point'. Their blooms can range from white (like the 'Snow Flurry' pictured above) to a deep blue-purple ('Julia Phelps').

The ceanothus hybrid 'Ray Hartman' can be shaped into a small tree and this one spent a December indoors in a pot as our decorated holiday tree before it was planted in the yard. In three years, it has nearly tripled in size and is helping provide a natural screen between yards. A prolific bloomer, it attracts a range of bees and butterflies and as it branches out it's creating more shelter for birds.

 The 'Ray Hartman' has become one of my favorite ceanothus and a dependable spring bloomer.

Early Spring Flowers in Southern California

 

Throughout the yard, winter rains are promoting early California flowers. The Mexican redbud (Cercis canadensis var. mexicana) showcases lush magenta blooms on naked branches.

 

Inflorescences of tiny bright blue flowers tip the spreading arms of the 'Ray Hartman' ceanothus.

These are the shapes and colors of the kinds of flowers we typically find beautiful, but they aren't the only flowers. 

The California coffeeberry (Rhamnus californica) unveils clouds of rusty-brown star-shaped flowers. They aren't the flowers of bouquets, but they will attract pollinators and hopefully produce fruit for birds and other wildlife. If you look closely you'll see specks of pollen spilled across the coffeeberry's leaves. 

This large mushroom is a fungi flower–the fruiting body of an underground web of life. 

 

Identifying mushrooms is challenging, but I think this is a giant leucopax (Leucopaxillus giganteus).

Since the beginning of the rainy season, we've had just under 28 inches of rain. Generally, in the Los Angeles area we hope for 12–18 inches over the course of a year. The abundant moisture has promoted the growth of pincushion moss (Leucobryum glaucum). Our north-facing garden walls look more like England than dry Southern California.

Mosses reproduce via spores rather than seeds. The fringe of tiny stems rising up from the moss are the sporangium, the pods holding the spores. They aren't your typical flowers, but these too will bring new growth.   

April Is Native Plant Month!

Did you know that the U.S. Senate has found something to agree on: Native Plants!

On March 25th, U.S. Senators Rob Portman (R-Ohio) and Mazie Hirono (D-Hawaii) introduced a resolution declaring April as "National Native Plant Month." Amazingly, the Senate passed the declaration by unanimous consent. They all agreed!

Wherever you live, native plants are vital to your local wildlife. 

Flowering native plants provide the pollen and nectar vital to native insects. 

 

This mallow was one of the first native plants we grew successfully. It provides food for native insects, which in-turn provide food for the Bewick's wren and bushtits that regularly nest in our yard. 

A family of western fence lizards live in the protection of its branches and leaves.

The mallow also helps hold our hillside. We know it is in the right location because it has grown from a single plant to patch of plants.

 

This cultivar of California fuchia (Epilobium canum) feeds our Anna's and Allen's hummingbirds. I love the brilliant red flowers.

Ceanothus has long been some of our favorite native plants. Also known as California lilac, they bloom in a range of purple to white flowers. This new specimen is a 'Ray Hartman'. It will grow to the size of a small tree. We used it as a living Christmas tree in a pot this past December and now it is filling out nicely to become a screening plant between us and our neighbors. 

The purple to blue flowers feed a variety of bee species, including valley carpenter bees. It has grown six inches in the past four months. We are thinking of adding a second plant beside it.

The Douglas iris (Iris douglasiana) (in white and purple) are showstoppers in the spring and their ground cover provides a year-round home for a lovely alligator lizard, another insect eating native species.

Native plants are adapted for their location and native wildlife is adapted to interact with them. Planting native plants can change your yard from sterile landscaping to a wildlife refuge.

Cistus and Sage in a Wildlife Garden

rock rose (Cistus salviifolius)

For years the rock rose (Cistus salviifolius) was a lush green plant with no flowers. It grew in dappled shade under an ornamental plum tree. For the past year, the tree has been gone and the rock rose has received more sunlight. This spring it is blooming for the first time in fifteen years. I had forgotten it's blooms were white.

Sometimes, you just have to be in the right place at the right time. You can survive and even do well, but one small change can transform existing to thriving. It is an important lesson to keep in the back of my mind. A moment in the garden always brings enlightenment and a new perspective. 

'hot lips' sage (Salvia microphylla)

While Cistus are not natives, as Mediterranean plants they are well suited to California's typical Mediterranean climate. There's another lesson: not every plant in the garden has to be a California native.  

The 'hot lips' sage (Salvia microphylla) is stunning this year. It's a North American native frequently visited by both our Allen's hummingbirds and valley carpenter bees.

The California natives continue to bring waves of beautiful blooms. The redbud has transformed to green leaves. It has passed the flower baton to the Douglas iris (Iris douglasiana). These native California iris have really rebounded with the winter rains. The garden speaks clearly if you listen: change is constant.

 
 I found three new Allen's hummingbird nests this weekend. More hummingbird stories to come.

Rain Brings Renewal

bush anemone

Finally an inch of rain.

Time for putting native plants in the ground. It may seem odd to plant as we ease into winter, but our California native plants do best when they have the winter to establish themselves.

For our Mediterranean Climate Zone, dormancy comes during the summer. Winter and early spring are the seasons of growth.

I've planted a second bush anemone as well as white sage, San Miguel Island yarrow, and some white buckwheat. The yarrow and the island subspecies of buckwheat we planted last year have reseeded themselves and small plants have come up on their own. That is the joy of native plants. Even with the drought they are doing well. 

Hidden Gardens of Los Angeles

red-legged frog sculpture at Malibu Legacy Park

Here and there in the corners of the city, there are wonderful public gardens.

I'm spotlighting a few of them on The Earth Minute (theearthminute.com). Each profile offers a one-minute video of the location and details on parking, accessibility, and amenities.

The Malibu Legacy Park offers native plants, a host of birdlife, and mosaic sculptures of California wildlife.

Orcutt Ranch Park is a quiet stroll through California history–complete with lemons, adobe, and an ancient oak tree.

Orcutt Ranch Park rose garden

Yellow is the Color of Spring

Spring has definitely come to Southern California. A little bit of rain and the sticky monkeyflower has bloomed. This native monkeyflower hybrid with light yellow-orange flowers was a fall purchase from the Santa Barbara Botanical Garden.

Warm days are bringing out the creatures that hibernate–desert tortoises and western fence lizard. The longer warmer days have also enticed a male valley carpenter bee (Xylocopa varipuncta) out of the wooden tunnel where he hatched and grew as a grub. He is all golden and pristine on his first day out in the world.

His mother burrowed a tunnel into the trunk of our bottlebush. Then she laid eggs in the tunnel (each with a supply of food) and  sealed up the tunnel. The young male had to burrow his way out of his nursery.

It is easy to tell males and females apart, because the females are black and the males are golden. 

Spring promises more discoveries.

 

California's Native Cherry

Native plants are the basis for creating wildlife habitat. The scarlet blush spreading across the Catalina cherry fruit alerts birds, insects and even mammals that this important native chaparral fruit is ripening.

Frequently introduced fox squirrels will ravage the fruit before it can ripen, but as more of our native plants mature there is more fruit for all of our wild visitors to discover. Today the house finches, hooded orioles and mockingbirds are beginning to enjoy these plump cherries. And of course the plants themselves provide nesting locations for birds (Allen's hummingbird).

The native cherries of California’s chaparral are related to the bing cherries and other varieties that humans cultivate, but these are wild growing plants. The Catalina cherry (Prunis ilicifolia lyonii) is found across the southern California Channel Islands (Santa Cruz Island). It is closely related to the holly-leaved cherry (Prunis ilicifolia ilicifolia) found along coastal hillsides on the mainland. But as the name implies, holly-leaved cherry has a leaf with holly-shaped prickles. The chaparral plant evolved this protection to reduce browsing by deer and other large herbivorous animals.

We have both holly-leaved cherry and Catalina cherry growing in our yard. Their close ancestry means we also have hybrids of the two. The Catalina cherry has evolved over the last 10,000 years without a large herbivore. In the Channel Island ecosystem there was no need to protect its leaves from large browsing animals, so the plant stopped expending energy on prickly leaves. The edges of the leaves are smooth.

Instead the Catalina cherry put more resources into larger fruit to attract the Channel Island fox (Urocyon littoralis). The small omnivorous fox relies on fruit for much of its late-summer-to-autumn diet. It can swallow the large pit of the cherry and transport the seed to areas distant from the parent plant in its scat.

While the fruit of the Catalina cherry looks similar to a cherry you might eat, I had my own moment of discovery when I tasted one. This cherry has not been cultivated to western human tastes. It is edible. The skin is somewhat sweet, but the pale flesh is astringent. Only when it is almost over ripe does it lose its bitterness and become palatable. According to Jan Timbrook in her book, Chumash Ethnobotany, the fruit of the cherry or “islay” was more valuable to the native peoples than acorns.

The fruit was used two ways. On occasion the thin layer of very ripe flesh was eaten directly or was mashed and dried to create a kind of fruit leather. However the most valuable part of the fruit was the seed or pit. Typically the fruit was collected in large quantities and allowed to rot. The flesh was then removed and the pit was cracked open to reveal the seed kernel inside. Like acorns, these kernels were poisonous if eaten directly and they had to be specially treated. The kernels were washed a number of times, either in hot or cold water, to leach away a form of cyanide. Once the bitter-tasting poison was gone the kernels were boiled, made into a mash and formed into balls or cakes. According to Timbrook’s sources the cakes are bean-like in texture and taste. 

So valued were islay cakes that they were frequently placed as offerings at sacred locations.

I wonder how the Chumash discovered the process to take advantage of this resource? Why did they even think the seed was valuable? Did they observe bear, deer, rodents, birds or other animals that made use of this plant?

I have often seen the pits opened and the kernels eaten out by some animal, but I’m not sure who. Still more to be discovered in my own yard.  

Discovery in the Garden

For the past few weeks I’ve been crazy busy with work, tasks generated by the wants of people. It sucks you in until it seems important, urgent, even vital. But in reality the pushing of paper from one pile to another, the sprinkling of well-placed words and the measuring of spaces between lines of text is a never-ending job without surprise or discovery. In other words, most of us humans are engaged in lifeless pursuits.

This morning, I went out into the yard for just a few minutes and watched two different species, a valley carpenter bee and an Allen’s hummingbird drinking nectar from the same “lipstick sage.” The amazing thing was they each approached the plant in a different way. The hummingbird drank directly from the red trumpet flower. The bee grabbed onto mature flowers that had turned white and licked at the outside base of the bloom. When it did this, the flower trumpet dropped under its body and the bee was put in a position where its legs went into the flower thereby delivering pollen.

The variety of species that are living in this small suburban plot of land has increased dramatically since I first started documenting and replacing “traditional” landscaping with plants and features that would create habitat. (hummingbird territories)

Discovery is a daily occurrence in a natural habitat; and that natural habitat doesn’t have to be a distant rainforest. Everyday the habitat that surrounds my home offers me real moments of life–survival, birth, death, discovery and change.

Rain Comes to Dry California

 What a difference an inch of rain can make!

Saturday it rained for over six hours. The rain gauge measured an inch and a third of spring-awakening water. By the next day, the Douglas iris committed itself to bloom.

While we are still in need of five or more inches to bring us into the “normal” range of rainfall, this gentle winter shower has washed the dust from the leaves and prompted some of the plants to reach for spring.
The Douglas iris is a California native and like all of our other native plants responds rapidly to rainfall. The deep purple blooms typically open throughout April, this year they're a bit early. There are hybrids of this native that come in a variety of shades, from white to deep purple and burgundy. Interestingly, in our yard, it is always the original purple that blooms first and is the most robust. The blooms last for a month or so, depending on the rainfall. The slender green leaves are fibrous and deep in color, they survive both frost and drought. We’ve been most successful with them planted in partial shade.

Our biggest challenge comes on four-tiny legs; pocket gophers that like to lunch on the iris’s rhizomes. If I can keep the rodents at bay, the Douglas iris comes back in larger clumps each year. Even if you initially put them in the wrong spot, they transplant easily. The Douglas iris demonstrates the beauty and practicality of planting natives.

They say it may rain again tomorrow. The iris and I are hoping that is true.

Be EcoPositive - Meeting Change Head-On with the Environment in Mind

Change is constant and sometimes overwhelming, but if you focus on little things, occasionally you can have a positive impact.

An international corporation has purchased two of our local shopping malls and for the past 5 years, or more, they have been working on a project to create a shopping "Village" with a network of walkways and mixed use areas that would connect the two remodeled malls. Many long-time residents of our suburb were up-in-arms. The increase of traffic and people was not welcome. 


I went to the planning meetings that were open to the public and I must give credit to the local city counsel office and the multi-national corporation for giving the local residents an opportunity to speak.


From the very first meeting I realized this change was coming. Whether I liked it or not, a shopping "Village" was going to be built. What could I do to make this change more ecopositive? I've seen similar projects by this owner in other areas of the city and the world. They usually are well laid out with beautiful landscaping. But one thing stood out to me, the landscaping was sterile; there were no native plants.


At that first meeting comment boards were put up around the auditorium with ideas pre-printed on them. We were all given stickers to express our priorities for the items that were important to us, green for positive, red for negative. We were encouraged to add ideas as well. I walked up to the comment board with the heading "Landscaping" and I wrote "Native plants that will be drought tolerant and provide habitat."


As I wrote, someone beside me said, "Yeah, why not?" If there was going to be new landscaping, why not restore habitat for birds and butterflies with native plants. I watched the green stickers of support multiply. This was an ecopositive suggestion with no downside.


I stayed on the mailing list and any time opinions were solicited I continued my mantra, "Native plants in landscaping."


The project has been through many transformations and slowed with the economic situation, but yesterday I saw a full page add in a local paper titled "Sustainability at the The Village, Coming Soon!" Change is moving forward. There were three bullet points on the page. The third one started "Native landscaping..."


There are little victories in making a positive difference. When it is an ecopositive difference all living things benefit.

Climate Change in California

I know most people think of Southern California as having year-round warm weather. And while it is true that we don't have snow in the lower elevations, we do actually experience cooler winter temperatures with a winter rainy season.

Over the past few years I have been noting the signs of autumn: leafing out of the wild currants, ripening of the toyon berries. The winter hibernation of the western fence lizards and desert tortoises mark the seasonal change as well. While the tortoises are fast asleep, this morning I saw a young fence lizard out warming itself in the sun.


I've also been recording signs of spring: hummingbird nesting, blooming of the manroot and more.


Last year the Allen's hummingbirds in our yard started to seriously nest in January. The earliest date we have recorded. A lone chick survived from these early nests because winter storms did arrive in early February. Winds tossed youngsters out of nests and sudden cold temperatures overwhelmed young chicks. The one Allen's hummingbird chick was the earliest recorded wild bird hatchling in North America in 2010. 

This year we had some early autumn rains, cold weather and then December has had some record warm days. Last year we recorded the manroot blooming the first week in January. On Sunday, December 12th I took these photos of the manroot not only emerging from the ground, but getting ready to bloom. Will this plant survive to fruit in summer if it emerges so early from the ground?


The male hummingbirds are performing breeding displays. Will we see nesting even earlier this year? If so, will the chicks survive when winter temperatures return?

Bull Thistle - A Real Weed

Most people regard all thistles as invasive weeds. I happen to think they are beautiful and I have taken photos of them all over the world.

Recently we had a thistle sprout in the driveway. I decided to let it grow. Several species of thistle are native to Southern California and their nodding flower heads provide seed for our local lesser goldfinches and house finches. The down that creates the parachute to help spread the seed is used by a variety of birds and small creatures to provide plush comfort to their nests and homes.

The thistle in the drive has flowered and I think it is lovely–prickly, but delicate.

However, after consulting a few books and two reliable websites Oregon State University and Invasive.org, I have identified my thistle as a bull thistle (Cirsium vulgare) a European / western Asian import. The “vulgare” in its scientific name means common. This imported thistle can be highly invasive and problematic.

For the sake of my local wild environment, this thistle must go.

Some “weeds” are welcome additions to your backyard biodiversity, others are not. If you have a thistle find out if it is a beneficial native or a problematic invasive and act from a position of knowledge.

Letting Go of the Word “Weed”

The dictionary defines a weed as “a wild plant growing where it is not wanted and in competition with cultivated plants.”

I’m letting go of this notion that wild free-growing plants are unwanted. And in doing so, amazing things are growing in my yard.

This wild cucumber or manroot (Mara macrocarpus) creates a beautiful delicate vine with white flowers in early spring. Now the fruit, these amazing prickly orbs the size of baseballs, are maturing and creating an exotic look. Because this vine is a native, it won’t grow out of control. It will die back to just its root during the summer.

But I didn’t plant this beautiful vine; it appeared.

The easiest way to increase native plants in your yard is to embrace the wild plants that show up on their own.

In an attempt to “control” nature, we label things as “weeds” and yank out the hearty native foliage that sprouts in our yards. Yet these plants typically are best suited for our soil, climate and water availability. These plants often are transported by native animals that depend on this vegetation for food and thereby spread the plant’s seeds.

Some plants that appear can be very invasive, but usually these are not native species. In my own yard I have a terrible problem with Oxalis pes-caprae, a South African species. Nothing eats it, it spreads uncontrollably and it pushes out other plants.

Native species usually have some creature or climate adaptation that controls their growth or spread. Before you pull out a new plant in your yard, identify it. Know What You Grow.

Earlier this year I discovered a black nightshade that had been introduced to the yard. At first I didn’t know what it was. But a friend saw my photos and identified the plant. A little research revealed that the black nightshade is an important native food source for some animals. I left it in. It is growing beautifully with purplish fruit, but the two plants have stayed small and have not spread.

I also have stopped trying to control my natives. I let a young mallow take hold about a yard from its original planted parent. Wild plants grow in the spots that are best suited for them. Yes, if a plant sprouts in a pathway I will remove it, but these self-starters are more likely to thrive in the locations they have chosen.

The valley scrub oak (Quercus agrifolia), that we lovingly planted 12 years ago, died in last year’s drought. But the four valley scrub oaks that were naturally planted by scrub jays are all healthy and growing. Toyon, Catalina cherry and holly cherry, are all natives reproducing naturally and becoming vital to erosion control on our hillside.

It’s my intention to create habitat in my yard, so I am letting go of the word “weed.” I’m embracing the wild plants that find their way to grow in our corner of the city and increase our backyard biodiversity.

Snail-Free Zone

Brown snails are an invasive non-native species in California. Everyone complains about them in their gardens. They poison them, step on them, even salt them. They were imported here as a food species, but they escaped and have been a problem in local gardens ever since.

They are a problem because most people water too much and grow non-native plants that snails have a taste for. When you try to grow an English garden in a Mediterranean climate you are creating a smorgasbord for brown snails.


When we first moved into our house the entire front yard was African daisies. In the spring and summer the slope was a beautiful array of purple and white. But, the African daisies were filled with snails and sow bugs. At night the snails would venture out from the daisies and devour everything else in the yard. The first couple of times I tried to grow vegetables, everything was eaten by snails.

We tried trapping them in beer, poisoning them with bait, even copper-covered stripping around plants we wanted to protect. The bait was probably the worst part because it was bad for other species as well. Of course the poison bait never worked completely and the subsequent generations seemed to tolerate it more and more, until it was useless.


Finally, I got disgusted. The hillside was eroding under the tangled vines. An area of African daisies died back, because of the snails, and I tore them out. In that small area we planted some native plants. We mulched these plants with bark and an amazing thing happened–the snails left that area and the biodiversity began to increase.

We stopped using poisonous bait and an alligator lizard moved in and started eating the snails.

Now our native Douglas iris are beautiful, drought tolerant, homes for a variety of native insects, they hold the soil, and there are no snails.

My Gardening with Intent action this week is to decide which section of African daisy I am removing next and what native species I will use to replant.

Garden Guardians - Preying Mantis

Part of having a sustainable garden is trust. Trust that if you offer nature the opportunity to create balance that the predators will help control the species that can be pests.

Realistically, balance has to be nurtured.

For example, this egg cluster was laid by a preying mantis last fall. She produced two foamy masses with eggs (that I know of). One on a grape vine and one on the wisteria. When I pruned both of these vines during the winter, I made the conscious choice not to prune the section of vine with the egg cluster.

If I hadn't been paying attention, I would have clipped off these twigs and tossed them in the green bin. I would have lost 50-100 potential garden guardians. The preying mantis is an important beneficial insect, eating a wide range of garden insects. Besides, the female who laid these eggs visited a class that I taught on insects. When I released her back into the garden she laid this egg mass and I promised her I would watch after them.

The more you know about the beneficial creatures and plants in your garden, the more likely you are to identify their needs and offspring. Give them a helping hand by proving native plants and you will helping to restore a natural balance in your home ecosystem.

I don't spray any insecticides in my yard. Instead I provide a safe place for natural predators–mantises, beetles, salamanders, lizards, spiders, bats, birds and more.

Is my trust in nature's balance founded? The proof will be revealed in how successful my veggie garden is this year. Any bets?

California Natives in Spring

The ceanothus is blooming in bursts of blue-purple flower sprays. This lovely California native is green year round but is shows off in the early spring. Throughout the Santa Monica Mountains large specimens are edged in purple to white blooms, giving them the common name California lilac.

There are a variety of cultivars and this Yankee Point ceanothus hugs the ground, making it perfect along the walkway up to the house.

Meanwhile, the spring rains and the increasing sunlight have awoken the slumbering redbud. While I love our flowering ornamental plum, the tree is older and suffers from termite damage. It is at the later part of its life. Beneath it we have planted a young redbud, a native species that will one day replace the plum. The redbud also blooms and the seedpods it produces are a food source for a variety of birds. Succession is a normal cycle in a habitat and we have chosen to let the plum nurture a native tree to eventually replace it in our wildlife habitat.

Planting native plants doesn't have to be an all or nothing proposition. Gradually adding natives allows you to learn where different species will be successful.

Answer to the Mystery Plant - Black Nightshade

The one thing I love about blogging is that it allows me to communicate with friends near and far and to interact with a community of people sharing information.

Last week I mentioned a new plant in my yard that I was unable to identify. Tristan, a friend who is working in the field as a biologist, sent me the following information:

I saw the new plant on your blog, it looks like black nightshade (Solanum spp.). I see this plant often in the Central Valley. You're right about the berries being toxic to mammals, particularly in large quantities and when the berries are green (although I've seen the seeds of the green berries often in raccoon and coyote scat).

The Photos: From UC Berkeley were a dead ringer for the plant in the yard. Black nightshade is found all over the world, including California.

The interesting part is that we have just recently become aware of a raccoon that has been frequenting our yard. It could be the means by which the black nightshade had its seed carried onto our hill.

So the question is...do I pull it out or let it stay? Some sources say black nightshade is very toxic. Others say that it is not that toxic and an important food for birds. At the moment there are only two small plants in a fairly out of the way part of the hillside, so I will let it stay and watch which, if any, animals interact with it.

Respecting biodiversity means sometimes reevaluating past beliefs about different species. There are no good or evil species, just species interacting with a web of life.

The Arrival of a New Species

A new plant has appeared in the yard. It stands about 2 feet tall and is growing beneath some established native holly cherries. It is the perfect example of how the biodiversity in our backyard is constantly changing.

While many species like the trapdoor spiders and slender salamanders have been here since we moved in 16 years ago, others are gradually appearing as the yard becomes home to more native plants. Chocolate looper, western fence lizard and Allen's hummingbirds.

Some plants, like this non-native asparagus fern, have spread to other areas of the yard because the native hermit thrush that visits over the winter eats its berries and moves the seed in its droppings.

The native manroot, on the other hand, has moved into the yard from the surrounding hillside. The manroot or wild cucumber has a large seed pod that explodes with mature seeds helping the plant venture into new territory.

Within the last month I have noticed a new plant. This volunteer arrived via seed either carried by the wind or a visiting animal. The berries on it could be food for a bird, but they have the appearance of something that might be toxic to mammals. Each berry is about the size of a green pea.

I've been looking through California plant ID books and on-line sources, but I have yet to figure this one out. A friend thought it might be pokeweed, but it doesn't have a red stem and the berries are quite different. If you have an idea as to what this might be, please let me know.

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