The native milkweed I mentioned last time that had trilled me by volunteering for our yard has been identified as the Sand milkweed (Asclepias arenaria). If a SAND milkweed was going to grow anywhere, what better place than where this nothing but miles of sand underfoot. Photos of the plant shape, leaves, and flowers vary greatly, so it was a challenging ID for me until I asked those knowledgeable folks who frequent the Facebook page Texas Flora. Amazing folks and, if you're a Texas gardener, a lovely place to get lost scrolling through.
WINE BOTTLE WALKWAY EDGING
You may know we've been collecting friends' and strangers' wine bottles for months, soaking off their labels, and burying them upside-down and halfway into the sand as a border for the backyard's walkways.
Early on, we recognized the need to bolster the line between the yard's walkways and raised beds, which are made of soft, trucked-in sand that kept seeking the lowest level possible because of the overly generous visits of the dreaded rain, wind, and gravity. Winter was too chilly for me to brave the temps and wind-driven chill factor (you thought I was kidding when I said I didn't like to leave the house when it gets below 60). And spring was too busy with other priorities, so I fell behind schedule.
I've started back at it and can now visualize the end one day soon. We've managed to border all of the walkways along the slope from the raised house pad and beyond, and have now switched to beer bottles because the remaining beds and walkway are at the same level. Quicker/easier to de-label, quicker/easier to install.
Disclaimer: The walkways aren't complete because they're still a hodgepodge of sand, rocks, weeds, and piles of pulled weeds drying and losing their bulk.
If you're local and drink beer from bottles, I want your empties.
But probably only during July because
I'm going to have this thing DONE before Ray returns in August.
I need your beer bottles now, and I'll come to you to pick them up.
Our lines are open and operators are waiting for your call.
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As I've learned, Texas natives or not island natives, and despite experts claiming they'll grow here, only island natives really survive or thrive here. Everything I've planted has been hard-hit. Besides losing all the planted milkweed to the spring's salt winds, some of the red lantana has gone over the rainbow bridge, as well. Three survived the initial shock of arriving and were blooming beautifully in early spring, but since the southeastern storms came, they're now just sticks with a few leaves. I noticed signs of new leaves and even tiny bits of red, so I won't give up on them yet.
The pride of barbados that didn't die shortly after arriving also were burned to the ground in spring, even the largest, two-foot tall one that bloomed last summer. Most have started back and show a fairly healthy set of leaves, though none are yet taller than eight-inches. The guessing game is whether they'll continue shrinking each year or will eventually become adequately well established.
Spring storms also took a small spiny hackberry given to us from a friend and co-member of the Native Plant society, who claimed it would thrive and make up for the loss of our non-natives. Neither occurred. I was quite sad to also discover both silverado sages (Leucophyllum frutescens) died, each in different parts of the yard.
WHAT WORKS
It's July, the beginning of year two on Mustang Island, time to get over it and move beyond the mourning phase. I'll go for a positive report next time of what's alive and — hopefully — what's resumed blooming now that the spring storms are done.
Ready for a preview?
Take this happy colony of plants, for example. These store-bought native perennials have been thriving like gangbusters and their blooms have the insect world abuzz — Gaura lindheimeri. Thank you, Lowe's for last fall's mistreated-plants dollar-cart.
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