oxalis — 2016 — The 21st Century Matriarch

I skipped February and March for an intimate landscapes post (after Eliot Porter’s Intimate Landscapes book available online here) but am starting them again this month.

In the roots and moss on a path in Centennial Park – I saw a parallel to crossroads on a map or visualized a decision at the fork of a road that has been taken by others but not enough to wear away the moss.

Low growth thrives at the base of a tree and surrounds a stump. A Jack-in-the-Pulpit is blooming there too.

The skunk cabbage surrounds the trees along a now hidden stream and the ferns are filling in the remaining spaces under the trees.

The thick oxalis almost overwhelms the cairns when the sun is shining (the plant’s flowers close up at night and cloudy days). Other plants cover other items with their foliage. The lighter green in the background will be pink lilies later in the summer.

Here an old stump provides a dark backdrop to the pink and yellow of spring flowers.

I was visiting in the Dallas area last week. It rained most of the time so activity was skewed more to things done indoors…..but the sun came out long enough for some garden pictures. The plants are growing well with the early warmth (and following a milder than usual winter) and plenty of moisture.

Irises are still blooming. The bulbs have been moved around as they have gotten too thick in beds either in this yard or in yards of friends and families. My mother remembers where they came from originally.

Pink Preference Sage that was planted years ago by my grandmother is showing its color too. It fills it area with its pleasant pink and green. She got the first plant from one of her sisters.

Mourning doves inspect the garden from the pathways.

The Oxalis is growing in rounded mounds. The mounds grow and the flowers open when there is plenty of light then close again at night or when the clouds are thick.

Garden ornaments peak through. The plants have been propagated from a small bed that my grandmother had started in her last gardening years.

The same is true for the white and yellow clumps of flowers that interrupt the edge between the patio and grassy yard.

The buttercups started the same way. These come back from seed every year at the base of a 24-year-old rose bush my grandmother received as a gift for her 80^th birthday; it had huge blooms that were just past prime so I didn’t photograph them.