Natives
I love flowers that thrive and surprise. My scarlet sage, the mealy sage, the spiderworts, gregg’s mist flowers, and the trees my son planted. All came as unknowns but took up residence once in the ground as though it were the culmination of their life’s work. Now I have another. The Scarlet Leather Flower (Clematis texensis). Gifted to me by a friend, for two seasons it pondered its future, before springing to life this spring. The vine climbed. The flowers bloomed. And now it’s showtime. As of this writing, the vine is up in the neighboring crape myrtle.
The flowers are bell shaped with thick scarlet petals tinged with yellow. When the petals open and fall to the ground, a new show arrives, a cluster of pale green seeds, with twisting feathery tails. I can imagine them, when the time comes, catching a wind to try and find a new place to call home, or maybe snagging a ride on the side of a passing animal or bird. In any case, I’ll do my part to help the cause of propagation and try my luck at bringing some seeds to life.
When native plants find their feet, as this little vine apparently has, it’s a good sign they’ll be able to live on their own with a modest amount of help, with only occasional drinks of rainwater from the barrels in the heat of summer. Other than that, they’re on their own and happy to be here. And I’m happy to have them for the gift of flowers and butterflies and hummingbirds. It’s a humming, colorful, cycle of life that’s good for my soul.