Flowerhead

More monarch caterpillar fun for your viewing pleasure.  This one, still actively caterpillaring unlike his pupated kin in the previous post, was caught in an interesting position while eating this milkweed stem down to the nub.

Phlomis Purpurea Pupation Pilgrimage

On the afternoon of January 12, a warm and inviting day here in Tustin, I realized I would be an idiot if I didn't get some gardening done.  You could say I was drawn to the task by an irresistible force; or you could say it was a very good idea to soak up some sun and get that long-delayed garden clean-up done at the same time.

The phlomis purpurea was a likely candidate for pruning.  I was told several years ago the secret to success with phlomis is to pinch back pinch back and pinch back some more.  This particular phlomis is definitely due for pinching if not regulation pruning.  But, its six-foot tall spires of fuzzy gray leaves are full of buds and flowers, so I set to work cutting back other plants around it, working my way in and up to the task of cutting it back.  As I turned my red-handled Felcos from the rudbeckias and hummingbird sage, the sighting of these two monarch caterpillars in pupation mode stopped my clippers in mid-snip.

Monarch caterpillars often leave the milkweed they have been feeding on and climb other nearby or sometimes not so nearby plants to seek a place to pupate.  (By the way, they sometimes wander off the milkweed to molt, as well.)  These fat ones had traveled about 10 feet out and 3 feet up from their home milkweed.

One of them wandered restlessly over the phlomis while the other caterpillar had already assumed the J position,

having selected a spot (the mid-rib of the underside of a phlomis leaf), spun a small silk cushion, hooked its cremaster through the silk, and proceeded to hang and await the final molt.

 Photos of the J were taken Jan 12 at 3:30 pm; I found the pupation complete but still hardening at 10:30 am Jan 14.  I'm assuming the pupation molt occurred morning of Jan 14, so this caterpillar spent at least 1.5 days in the J position.

The second caterpillar wandered around until the following morning, Jan 15, when I caught it hanging in a J around 8:20 am.  This one made much quicker work of its transformation, and just 3 hours later at 11:30 it had shed its skin and a very fresh chrysalis was squirming and shining in the sun.  You can see the shriveled black skin is still either hanging on or is just caught up by the pupa's attachment point.

I remember thinking this caterpillar had not chosen wisely, as it seemed tenuously attached to the outer edge of a droopy leaf.  Using phlomis leaves of any type seemed ill-advised, looking down on the thick bed of dropped leaves.  But, the pupal stage lasts just 10 to 14 days usually so I was hopeful the leaves these two chrysalises attached to would hold that long.

In the next couple days our Santa Ana winds kicked up.  Though the blow did not reach the Storm Watch predicted, biblical proportion of 80 mph, it did rattle the branches a bit.  I checked on the two from time to time and on the afternoon of Jan 20 found the second hasty pupa had fallen off its attachment.  I was able to find it in the soft duff of fallen phlomis leaves.  I picked it up gently with my sweatshirt-gloved hand.

I took the five day old fallen pupa inside and attached it to a bamboo skewer with some white glue and jute string.  It had some brown marks on it, maybe damage occurred when it fell.  It is spending its days now suspended over a small plastic bowl, but when (if) it turns transparent as soon-to-eclose monarchs do I will take it out and attach the skewer to a likely shrub so the butterfly can emerge in a natural setting.

As of right now, both pupae are still green and so are not expected to produce butterflies for a day or so.  But while I was checking on them a female monarch was depositing eggs on the nearby milkweed leafs, maybe drawn there by an irresistible force or maybe it's just a very good idea on a bright shiny day to lay eggs on milkweed if you're Danaus plexippus.

one egg on a fuzzy schizocarp

I've gone poetic in the past about lacewing eggs.  They appear delicate, tenuous, ethereal.  But in reality the stalk they rest upon is exceptionally resilient and while this egg itself may fall prey to various fates, eggs, and more importantly their contents, continue to prevail in sufficient quantities to prolong the existence of lacewings.  An individual egg as seen here stands alone like a punctuation mark, an embellishment on the mother lacewing's statement about life.

This egg is attached to the dried schizocarp of Pavonia praemorsa, full of seeds that may or may not ever sprout.

Sour Grass Spring Sign

Um, yeah it is just 80% into the first month of the year.  But in this southern California backyard it looks and feels a lot like spring.  The Celtic calendar has spring beginning February 1, and this reckoning makes complete sense in my garden.

There are plenty of plants in bloom right now: rhaphiolepis, geranium, acacias, salvias, phlomis.  But this Oxalis pes-caprae being visited by a honeybee whispered spring to me on a recent morning.  Also known as sourgrass or Bermuda buttercup, this is an early blooming weed that arises from perennial corms left behind when the top growth is pulled or dies down in late spring.  An invasive weed, I never have the heart to attempt eradication precisely due to scenes like these on a bright January day.

Not an Orchid Nut, But

My mom is nearly an orchid nut; she could be a full-fledged one if she was not so tight with her cash.  But you can't eat orchids and the Great Depression made a big impression on some people.  One day she got me to take her to an orchid "show" (which I had already learned is actually a sale) to look around . . . and buy orchids.  Orchids are interesting; many of them have devious means of getting insects to pollinate them, as an example.  And the epiphytic lifestyle, using other plants as support for the roots instead of soil, enables them to grow and be grown in very different ways than soil-bound plants.  Their ways have endeared them to enthusiasts who have hybridized like crazy making a vast variety of shapes, sizes, colors, smells, etc.  Maybe I should be an orchid nut.

Anyway, a small thing labeled "Bl. Seagull's Yellowbug" caught my eye and it was the only thing I bought that day.  Since then it has bloomed a couple times, currently has two bright yellow flowers that are covered in tiny brown spots, maybe from raindrops.  Anyway, I thought they look striking nonetheless against the very blue expanded metal patio table the plant sits upon.

A Lucky Meeting

It was so nice out this afternoon, it just seemed right to put profitable work aside for a bit and finally get to some of the overdue cleanup in the back forty.  These two monarch caterpillars seeking pupation sites caught my eye before I decided to tip back the phlomis.  More on them later.

A Quarter Hour in the Grass

There is a clump of pennisetum growing in the parkway, planted a year or so ago I think and I've misplaced its proper name.  Maybe it's p. a. hameln.  By rights it should be cut back soon but meanwhile and as long as I'm procrastinating garden chores it is a wild place of tangled leaves, scraggly blossoms and home to many things. 

Just a quarter hour's observation revealed katydid eggs glued in overlapping rows on a stem; a weird colored bagrada hilaris nymph clinging to an inflorescence;

 a glowing elm leaf; a schistocerca nitens grasshopper nymph casting an annoyed look at me as I parted the foliage; a green lacewing perched gracefully on a twisting leaf; a geometrid caterpillar of uncertain coinage; and the simple but irresistible combination of milkweed seed meeting grass seed.

Take time to observe, always time to trim later.

Snail Mail, Literally

There are so many small garden snails around the yard now, and I find them in all kinds of high places.  Do they climb because it's colder near the soil?  Too wet down there?  Some of them are actively feeding and crawling around, but many are lethargic or even dormant. 

 







This one found a spot inside the mailbox.  Its shell is a bit crushed, probably the junk mail got thrust rudely upon it while it was taking its rest.  Interesting I suppose but it too got flicked into the street. 

 I have a bad feeling about the chances later in spring for seedlings and 4" potted rudbeckias in a garden that is already so full of snails.

Happy Belated New Year and Bug count

Time to box up the lights and ornaments, and finally get the Bug Count post posted.  As is my habit, the count is posted on the actual day of the survey, 12/28/10.