Winter Walkout 2017

Labeling my walk this morning as a "winter walkout" seems like lying, but the calendar rules, so that's what I'll call it.

Leaving my front door, the first thing I noticed was this American flag.  The flag is not, technically, in my yard, even though it's visible from my front door, so I don't think I'm breaking the winter walkout rules by including this vignette.

Since I see it every time I leave my house, this algae-stained and sadly weathered flag has become symbolic to me.  The folks who display it are staunch conservatives; I'm sure they consider themselves to be displaying their patriotism.  I, however, see many other layers of meaning in its treatment as well.

Passing by their garden this morning, along the sidewalk in front of their house, I noticed a red camellia bloom with multiple centers:  colorful, perfectly imperfect, brightly shining for a few days...and then gone forever.  How's that for reading meaning into the natural world?!

Looking up, Spanish moss draping from the trees silvered the sand live oak canopies, which were silhouetted against the crisp blue sky.  It was truly a gorgeous morning!

Across the street, a painted concrete ball added a touch of whimsy to an otherwise classic, if rather off-kilter, driveway pillar.

Why a soccer ball?  I have visions of sports-mad teenagers living in the house, but I have never actually seen any activity beyond a single parked pickup truck in the driveway.

As I passed under the sand live oaks whose finery of Spanish moss had caught my eye, I looked up into the interior of one of the trees, relishing the texture of the heavy, sinuous branches with their finely textured leaves against the sky.

Live oaks, sand live oaks, burr oaks, cottonwoods, prairie elms - I love statuesque, gnarly trees with character!

Despite the February date, azaleas are in full bloom around here - about 3 weeks earlier than normal.  It always amuses and entertains me to imagine how azaleas mirror the personalities of their owners.  This big, beautiful plant feels like a woman with her hair down, relaxing in the sunlight.

Across the street, however, an azalea hedge separating two houses has a much more "buttoned up" appearance, sacrificing blooms and density for formality and "neatness".

As I pondered the character-predicting capabilities of azalea shrubs, I heard a large bird calling loudly up above me in the tree canopy.  Frustrated by my rude intrusion as I stood stock still on the sidewalk just below her perch, a red-shouldered hawk squawked at me from a tall pine for several minutes before finally flying off, unwilling to tolerate my presence any longer.  As she flew, I mentally thanked her for allowing me to capture her picture, despite her irritation.

Continuing down the sidewalk, I couldn't pass up a picture of this evocative rope swing, taking advantage of a meandering sand live oak branch in someone's front yard.  I just wish there had been several small kids playing on it while I passed by!

Not too far away, another large oak was in obvious decline, being strangled by a rapacious English ivy vine scrambling up its trunk to compete for the light above, while its roots competed for water and nutrients below.

Even as I was aiming the camera, trying to get a good angle on the ivy vine and oak tree, I registered calls from the red-shouldered hawk again.  Looking up, over a house roof and into a back yard, I saw a huge nest with its raucous owner standing guard nearby.

I had known there was a pair of red-shouldered hawks nesting in the area, as I'd seen some of their mating displays from our backyard, but now I know where their nest is!  Even a short walk can uncover some pretty amazing discoveries.

"Hawk Street" ends in a cul-de-sac that borders the local golf course.  I couldn't resist a quick photo of these blooming azalea bushes along the golf course fence, framed by oak trunks and overhung with Spanish moss.

Continuing around the cul-de-sac had me heading back towards home.  As I walked past a quite neglected (but obviously once loved) front yard, I noticed this little concrete cherub.  Nestled down in a mix of variegated English ivy and fern fronds, he was a warm love note amidst the ragged remnants of the overgrown landscape.

As a contrast to the earlier "interior landscape" of the sand live oak tree, I snapped a quick picture looking up into a fairly young southern magnolia.  They are both native trees, but there is such a different quality of light, color and texture in their forms!

Hearing a variety of different bird calls, loudly rattled off in sequence, I wasn't too surprised when this mockingbird flew over to a hedge, then up onto the electric wires.  It was so nice of him to pose for me!

Across the street from the mockingbird, more "buttoned down" neighbors are obviously careful to keep their azaleas from looking too wild and crazy.  These shrubs are probably younger than the earlier hedge, in a sunnier location, and pruned more frequently, so there were more blooms and a thicker appearance overall.  Still, I prefer my azaleas to be free.

Rounding another corner, I was looking at a highly squared off azalea when I noticed the trunk of the southern magnolia shading it.  What causes this braided appearance?  Pruning up of the branches earlier in its life?

Speaking of pruning, why was it necessary to pollard this poor tree, looking like hell in the hell strip?  I didn't recognize the species from just the truncated remains of the branches and the bark alone, so I'll have to keep an eye on it and see what the leaves look like when the poor thing finally manages to push out a few.

As an aside, though, the bark on the trunk had obviously been a favorite place for yellow-bellied sapsuckers to feed over the years, bearing a textural pattern of holes that could almost be used to create a modern art piece.

Now I was completing my small neighborhood loop, looking at the streetscape, ornamented by sand live oak trees, with the light behind me.   Aren't these trees wonderful?  It was the presence of these trees that attracted our daughter to this neighborhood, 5 or 6 years ago.  (Then 2 years ago, she and her husband and our grandbabies attracted us to the same neighborhood!)

In the foreground of the photo above, you can see the soccer plinth and a stump in front of it.  That stump is the remnant of a large popcorn tree, an invasive species (in the Euphorbia family!) that was, thankfully, cut down a year ago.  The stump is beginning to sport an accent of frilly fungus as it starts to decompose, but it was the deep blue of the spiderwort blooms that caught my eye.  I'm a real sucker for blues of this hue.

As I approached the end of my walk, I couldn't resist capturing this quintessentially southern scene, again from the garden across the street from us.  Oak trees provide structure, high shade, and a catch-hold for graceful Spanish moss.  Underneath those picturesque giants, tall, dark green camellias and lower, rounded azaleas bloom brightly, skirted by fallen camellia petals and ferns.  Can't you just hear the whispered southern accents and the clinking of ice in tall drink glasses?

Thank you for coming on my winter walkout with me.  It's been fun to share my regular haunts with you - and I've loved seeing where everyone else is doing their winter walkouts, too.

As I finish, though, I have to wonder what it would be like for different people to walk the same route and share what caught their attention.  Wouldn't that be a fun way to compare and contrast how each of us sees the world differently?!  Another project for another time, I guess.  I hope you're enjoying the world around you, whatever season your weather is bringing these days, wherever you're planted.

Spanish Moss, Gray Beards on the Trees

Softening the branches on many of the trees in our neighborhood, Spanish moss drapes lazily down, creating a mood redolent of heat, humidity and southern tranquility.  I love it.  The streamers of Spanish moss were one of the features I fell in love with when I first drove down this street.

So I was rather shocked when one of our neighbors started talking about how he needed to find someone to take the moss out of his trees, because it was killing them.  I knew from my time in Mobile, Alabama, that Spanish moss is an epiphyte, a plant without roots that does NOT take nutrients from the plant that it is living on.  Epiphytes get all their water and nutrients directly from the air, rain and dust.  They are NOT parasitic, as mistletoe is, despite their similar location in the canopies of trees.

How could anyone not like this beautiful, graceful, gray-green plant that waves so softly in the slightest breeze?

It turns out that there are several serious, fairly widespread misconceptions about Spanish moss.  One of the saddest and most damaging of these misconceptions is that it will harm your trees.  The truth is that Spanish moss will often colonize trees that are already beginning to decline, growing more rapidly than on nearby, healthier trees due to the increased light that occurs in the thinning canopies of the trees that are already dying.  This has made it all too easy to blame the trees' decline on the Spanish moss.

The only "damage" that Spanish moss will actually do to a healthy tree is to partially shade the leaves of the lower branches and, if it's heavily festooning a tree, increase the wind resistance should the tree be in an area unlucky enough to be hit by a hurricane.  The photo above is the canopy of the same tree in the previous photo. The tree is healthy and actively growing, despite having a large amount of Spanish moss growing on it.

Even the concern that large collections of Spanish moss can "weigh down" a branch and cause it to fall appear to be mistaken - Spanish moss is very lightweight and branches that have fallen are almost always found to have other structural weaknesses that brought them down.

So what is this odd plant?  Is it, indeed, even a plant?

Yes, indeed, Spanish moss IS a plant.  Going by the scientific name of Tillandsia usneoides, Spanish moss is actually a flowering plant in the pineapple family!  It is NOT a moss and it is NOT Spanish.  Apparently, if you look really closely during the summer months, you can see small blooms that are variously reported to be green, bluish, or yellow.  Not having looked for said blossoms, I hadn't noticed them before...but I looked for them today and I found them.   Do you see the bloom in the photo above?  Here is a closeup of it....

They are apparently even mildly fragrant.  Here is another flower, more of a true yellow in color.

Although one of the primary structures of Spanish moss is its long stem, which can reach 20 feet or more in length, there is no functional xylem or phloem in the plant.  Each cell either gathers its nutrients and moisture directly from the air and photosynthesizes energy itself or it gets its resources from a neighboring cell.  There are small, very narrow leaves.  Both the stems and leaves are covered with overlapping gray scales that are important in capturing the airborne water and nutrients that sustain this plant.

Not surprisingly since it's native to this area, Spanish moss is actually an important plant for wildlife.  Several birds use it extensively for nesting material, including the Baltimore Oriole.  The Northern Parula (warbler) is said to nest where Spanish moss and other similar lichens occur, building its nest inside the hanging festoons.  There is even a spider that lives only in Spanish moss; many other animals use it for shelter or as foraging grounds.

Looking straight up into the middle of hanging Spanish moss, you can see how nests could be hidden in the larger clumps.

Humans have traditionally used Spanish moss, too.  Native Americans made a tea from it to help cure fever and chills, and they used Spanish moss fibers in clothing, bedding, and to make rope.  They added Spanish moss to clay to make bricks and pottery stronger, and they used it to help start fires and to fire pottery.  The European settlers came to use Spanish moss, too.  Surprisingly, I learned that the seats of Model T Fords were actually stuffed with Spanish moss, as were other types of cushions and mattresses.  It was sometimes used as insulation in homes.

Even today, Spanish moss is used frequently in floral arrangements and for craft projects.  It is said to make an excellent mulch for plant beds, which I intend to try out.  It is common here to see piles of Spanish moss put out for the city waste trucks to pick up;  why not scavenge some of it, keeping it from the landfill in the process?  It's free, it's a beautiful gray-green color, and it's organic.  What's not to like?

As I did research for this post, I saw one final use mentioned for Spanish moss:  apparently in some locales it is draped from fences or wires as a privacy screen between neighbors!  I haven't seen that on Pinterest yet, but I'll bet some artful soul could really make an interesting backyard feature using the general concept.

Speaking of Spanish moss and landscape features, Mobile, Alabama, apparently used to be known for the gracious live oaks, heavily festooned with Spanish moss, that lined many of its streets.  When we lived there, we were told that the Spanish moss was declining, though, due to air pollution.  Certainly there is not much Spanish moss left in Mobile.  What little I've seen there tends to be on the back streets, which fits well with the idea that air pollution decreases its viability.

Of course, when I think about it, Spanish moss IS an epiphyte - a plant that gets all its nutrients and water from the air, rain and dust.  Is it so surprising, then, that poor air quality would decrease its health and therefore its ability to survive and reproduce?

How does Spanish moss actually reproduce?  It seems atmospheric, not reproductively vibrant.  However, as mentioned above, it's a flowering plant.  Thus, it produces (tiny) seeds that can and do produce new plants.  More frequently, though, Spanish moss probably spreads by wind or by animals such as birds, which carry small pieces of the plant from tree to tree as they move around.

Spreading across the landscape as if by magic, creating a mystical feeling by its very presence, Spanish moss is a special plant that creates a unique sense of place as it grows.  I'm excited to be able to encourage it here in our own personal landscape.