Joann Merritt's Essays

A Fall Advertisement For Native Plants
November, 2002

The following is taken from notes I made last fall, 2002. I read an article that accurately refers to fall as the “Gone to Glory” time of year, for me it’s also a time when multi-colored leaves fashion an award winning native plant advertisement. Or perhaps the leaves had an identity crisis and wanted to change from their plain everyday chlorophyll existence to a bright and flashy personality that grabs one’s attention. In any case, Mary Kay herself couldn’t have achieved a better before and after make-over. For about a month I practically lived on the trails on our 2 acres whether there was sunshine, fog, mist, light rain or even snow! Like a good movie that one hankers to see over and over again I felt compelled to revisit the trails in case I had previously missed some glorious sight.

An outdoor table and chairs issued a middle of November invitation to come sit awhile and enjoy the family of Golden-leaved Soapberry trees that have taken root from the parent trees planted in our yard some 30 years ago. On the right is a large patch of New England Asters attracting 15 to 20 species of colorful butterflies when the sun shines. Due to the drought birds are scarce but a pair of Cardinals usually visit this area.

Only the hardiest plants such as Christmas Cholla, Yucca, Ephedra and mesquite have survived without being watered. Rain accompanied by wind caused mesquite beans to fall and lichen to form on the trunks. After the rain Huisache Daisies sprouted and winter rosettes appeared giving us hope that there will be wildflowers next spring. Quail, thrashers and other fruit-eating birds should be eating the red Cholla berries but they have evidently sought greener pastures and juicier fruit elsewhere.

A path strewn with leaves leads beside a motte of sumac trees that the grandchildren have proclaimed by sign to be “The Enchanted Forest”. In past years a Wood Nymph butterfly was found in this suitable wooded habitat, also a pair of Bell’s Vireos nested here until the parasitic Brown-headed Cowbirds discouraged them.

Bush Muhly, a delicate native grass, resembled fingers of fog following the contours of the land. It grows in abundance under mesquite trees where in fall the seedheads glow with a soft orchid haze and dew or light mist glisten like jewels atop the mounds of grass. Our 12-year-old windbreak arborvitae trees have dropped some of their purplish-gray cones that now decorate the blanket of fallen branchlets. Long needles of Afghan Pines have knitted an attractive ground cover (an afghan?) underneath the row of trees.

The evening sun low in the western sky illuminates a collection which includes an old tree stump, watering rock for the birds and my Valentine Heart Rock surrounded by still vigorously growing mint. The Buttonbush has lost its orbs of white blooms and small “brown buttons” while its leaves are tinged with yellow and red. Even though the sun casts long darkening shadows it manages to brighten the day’s end by sending sunbeams through the soapberry leaves.

Just two weeks later the seasons changed abruptly and Jack Frost sculpted a winter scene using 8” of snow. In the early morning light the heavy snow blanket failed to obscure the valiant red blooms of Autumn Sage while a cedar stump of early 1900 vintage that I salvaged from my grandparents ranch site wears a tall baker’s hat of snow. Green 5-lobed leaves of a Vitex tree mixed with red leaves from a pear tree accent the snow as tall blades of grass peek through making exclamation points emphasizing the beautiful winter scene. The neighbor’s pecan tree viewed through our back door gladdens the morning as sunlight dances through its golden leaves and my happy trailing begins anew.