Leucophyllum in Crazy Bloom

Next to the front porch our Texas Ranger, leucophyllum frutescens, is blooming large.

This drought hardy plant needs little water, can survive our average summer without supplemental irrigation, 

but the surprisingly substantial rain we had a month ago seems to have ramped up the flower bud production way beyond normal.  Leucophyllum usually blooms late summer but this year is ridiculous in its bounty.

In Texas, some refer to their state flower as the 'Barometer bush', due to its response to increased humidity and/or summer rain with eye-popping flower production.  Some say the buds often burst open before the rain, serving as a weather prediction.  

Our ranger is covered in blooms right now, I thought because of the soaking it got last month.  But maybe rain's on the way.  Eventually?  Meanwhile, it makes a pleasant bower where it meets up with the Acacia iteaphylla over our front porch entrance.  As they age, the flowers drop off and sprinkle the walk below, and anything else that happens to be there like our concrete fawn.

Bees love it, and many early mornings their loud buzzing greets us as we step under the bower and begin our day.  

Chair-lotte's Web?

I found an unusual web on the back of a patio chair the other day.
Some Chair!

The chair, which I am planning to restrap, was stored in a back room indoors.  When we brought it out into the light, the web was revealed.  I couldn't find a spider in residence, though there were a few small (+/- .25") shed spider skins and some dessicated prey.

I also haven't been able to find any image of a web that resembles this, especially the double-strand zigzag motif.  Aside from the fictional weavings of Charlotte, the closest thing is images of the webs of drugged spiders, part of a couple of experiments on the effects of various drugs on spiders.  The caffeine- and chloral hydrate-induced webs bear a glancing similarity.  Where would the spider lurking in a dusty back room get caffeine or a Mickey Finn?

I'm going to have another look for the spider; meanwhile . . . Anyone ever seen a web like this?

Rock Moth Cellphone

We were shopping for rocks, and had settled on the small Three Rivers boulders for this particular project.  Upon closer inspection found this White lined sphinx moth (Hyles lineata) on the face of what could seem a largish boulder to the moth.  As we picked further through the boulders, another moth was found.  We were all enthusiastic about our find and took these cellphone pictures.  The rock yard man, driver of the forklift, was not too excited but he did a fine job of loading our boulders.

Are Three Rivers boulders especially attractive to these moths?  Or maybe the rock yard man's indifference was due to a general abundance of moths among all the rocks.  We may never know; we took our pix and our rocks and left.

Photo Dump: Papilio zelicaon Edition

Anise swallowtail story, that took place in August 2011, ends in oddness.

A fat mature caterpillar in mid-August contemplates the choice between continuing to eat the fennel and pupation.  Eating wins out for a few more days . . . ha! notice the green stink bug on the right of this photo, recently molted!  Anyway,

eventually pupation is inevitable and the caterpillar assumes the position, spins a silk pad at the rear end and a silk safety line around the middle and waits.

Next day: the fresh pupa full of butterfly-flavored hope.

Three days later, the pupa has been split at the top (head area).
There was some brownish stuff inside.  Predation?  Parasitoid?  Mechanical accident?

The damaged pupa hung there and dried; its silk line broken.

one day I caught this bug, Creontiades rubrinervis, lurking around.  It even went inside the empty shell, seeking what?

Space Spider

News item in today's paper about a jumping spider that was sent to space by an Egyptian student.  Poor Nefertiti, as she was named by the student, died soon after returning from her 10 month sojourn aboard the International Space Station.  The experiment's purpose was to study the effect of low gravity on the feeding success of non-web building jumping spiders.

I was glad to read that the space travelling spider was able to adapt to the new conditions and hunt and feed during her trip, even if she had to be satisfied with fruit flies.   Article's title seems to be in error, since as stated in the last paragraph the spider will actually be added to the National Museum of Natural History's spider collection rather than residing in heaven.  Unless you believe spiders have immortal souls etc.

Another question about this story is how the Egyptian student (studying in Alexandria) came to acquire a specimen of Phidippus johnsoni, a species found in North America not Africa.  Is there international trade in jumping spiders?  Maybe he got the spider while visiting Washington DC when he won the competition.

Arachnophobes here on Earth and in space-- consider these words the next time you think about squishing a spider that has successfully navigated the ever-changing and dangerous world to reach the inner sanctum of your abode:

The Smithsonian said that the loss of Nefertiti, "a special animal that inspired so many imaginations," would be felt throughout the museum community.

Election Bug Fun

From our own LA Times:

If Romney wins, statistician will eat bug.

http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/opinion-la/la-ol-campaign-promises-20121106,0,5492503.story

If this was your wager, what bug would you think of eating?  For my part not so sure on the green stink bug pictured (picturesquely) with the story.















I'm thinking something smaller, less leggy and less smelly.  Like a silverfish.  Or a springtail.  Small.

Anyway, it's just past 7pm pacific time; it doesn't look like Mr. Wang is in danger of getting Nezara leg fragments stuck in his teeth.  I'm saying this between clenched teeth.

UPDATE:  9:20pm pacific time.  Lookin' like no bug eating will be required.  I repeat:  No Bug Eating Will Be Required!

Yeah, Cindy.  Ice cream, or maybe frozen yogurt.  Yay for frozen desserts!

By Dawn's Weird Light

This morning I got out of bed to a house filled with deep yellow light: streaming through the windows and skylight; turning everything outside to copper-bronze.  Apocalypse:  NOT.

A thunderhead had formed directly overhead and the top of it, unseen to us below in the shadow, was being illuminated by the rising sun.  Is there a name for this particular kind of light?  Do we have a word to sum up the condition of the air surround vibrating with sulfur?

I stood around gaping for awhile, snapped some photos, then noticed the airliners from John Wayne had reversed pattern and were now taking off in our direction to the north.  Away from the weather disturbance apparently.  NOAA radar map confirmed there was a large red cell directly south of the airport at 7:08.  The sound of the jet engines, so different when taking off than when gliding in, added to the general eeriness.

After awhile a rainbow grew off in the west beyond the back fence;

then I noticed this pair of katydids (Scudderia furcata), of uneven development stages, was caught up in the yellow-ness.  Then a little rain fell.  Nice.

Speaking of Wolves

So Mr. Cardui and I were off on a brick and mortar shopping expedition because after a long and blustery life one of our fans died in the middle of an off-season heat spell.  What I mean to say is, we actually needed another fan to blow hot air out of our bedroom window and we needed it NOW.

The fan that died looks similar to the one in the top photo, except it was made by Bionaire and was in no way marketed as or considered to be "retro" when we bought it, which I guess was many years ago.  Suffice it to say the little guy did well by us, not only pushing a lot of air but also fit perfectly perched on the window sill and looked kind of cute as well.  A well built item of stainless steel, it finally bit the dust just as the early morning low hit about 78 degrees one day at the end of the soon to be legendary September 2012.  Hot weather predicted into the foreseeable future; we decide to try our luck at the local retailers.

I believe both the mister and I knew in our hearts this would be a futile quest.  Back to school had passed, Xmas was less than three months away.  The clerk at CVS directed us to the area where the fans had been replaced by portable heaters.  Similar experience at Walgreen's.  A saleswoman at Kohl's just shook her head while humming "Jingle Bells" or else that's what it sounded like.  Bed Bath and Beyond had a small stack of sorry dysfunctional looking leftover concept fans as close to the exit door as they could be without being outside the store . . . good bye summer merchandise!

At Lowe's I got momentarily distracted by the small display of Halloween decor in danger of being crowded off the shelves by Xmas stuff.  Before I knew what was happening, I hear Mr. Cardui's voice from way over in the far end of what used to be the patio shop, now chock full of fake trees and boxes of holiday lights.  He's calling: come quick, hurry.  I'm thinking, fans in the Xmas section?

Anyway turns out there was this cool, large spider on the floor by the 12 foot tall display of mini lights.  I believe some sort of wolf spider.  The body length (measured against the only tool I had in hand, my cell phone) including legs was 3/4 of a flip phone.  The critter skittered along the floor in an odd floating way; Mr. Cardui swears he saw it move sideways.

Did the spider come in a box of red and green lights?  Did it pop out of a freshly unfolded plastic tree, fresh from wherever such things are made and freed at last to roam the floor of Lowe's in search of unfamiliar prey?

After playing with the wolf spider awhile we did buy a fan at Lowe's, a large cheap inelegant plastic box fan that, admittedly, did feel pretty good the next couple of ridiculously hot October days.

Note to Retailers:  Southern California is a warm climate.  Sometimes people's stuff like fans break, and it's hard to plan ahead for this circumstance.  Fans are also often used to improve ventilation in dwellings, outbuildings, garages and places of business.  Air has been known to get stuffy even when it's not summertime.  There is no real reason consider fans a seasonal item.  Better to remove shoe polish to make room for fans year 'round . . . who polishes their shoes except at Xmas?

Stop making people that simply need to buy stuff feel like tools in your big genius marketing plan, okay?

Even though the heat wave is over, and maybe even rain in the forecast, no reason to rush through the season.
## end of rant ##

Exuviae and once and future exuviator

I found two nicely complete exuviae, also known as the remains of an exoskeleton and related structures that are left after an insect has molted, hanging in the leaves of the big myrtle today.  

I brought them indoors to examine and share with Mr. Cardui, who gave them a cursory glance and continued to vacuum the rugs saying, that's something I would be more interested in getting rid of than keeping.  So sayeth the previous owners, or exuviators, as well.

These exuviae are from stink bugs, Nezara viridula, one of which I found also among the myrtle foliage.  This one might have been the source of one of the exuvia but will definitely be the source of future ones as it will be molting two more times: once to the 5th instar and once again to adulthood.

That creature on the stem next to the stink bug is a leaf hopper or plant hopper of some kind.  There's quite a few of them hopping around the myrtle .  .  .  .  .

Also lurking nearby in the myrtle but maybe from a galaxy far far away was this unidentified creature.  Watch out, it's alien weather we been having.

Somewhere in Tustin

While I was out treasure hunting on the weekend, I came across an outstanding example of what is in my opinion the best, possibly the only good, use of fake grass.

These Tustinites had captured the natural heat generating property of fake grass to promote healthy vigorous growth of their watermelon crop.  Not only do the melon plants dig the heat, but the artificial surface will no doubt help protect the fruits from rot and insect damage.

I like the way the vines are beginning to spread over the public sidewalk here.  Hope these residents don't get an encroachment ticket from some over-zealous code enforcer.

Um . . . . Yes?

This OSH ad in Sunday's paper poses what I consider a rhetorical question.

I don't have time to pull weeds, yet there are no weeds to mention in my garden.  I haven't fertilized and still plants are looking pretty good, nice and green and full of healthy growth.

Sure I've done a little pruning and deadheading now and then, but who has been picking snails and tossing them into the street?  Who's been cleaning up the fallen camellia blossoms?

And the birdbath that is suspiciously free of mosquito larvae?  Who cleaned up all the elm leaves that fell in the last couple rain storms?

There's a new member of our gnome team.

He is positioned near the front gate soliciting contributions to the planting fund.  Nobody has been doing the planting; maybe they will get on it when the funds come in.

Spider Wow

Wow.

Have You Seen the Big Rock?

We traveled to Rowland Heights over the weekend to view a big rock on an even bigger rolling transporter rig.  It's being hauled to LA County Museum of Art; more info here; also a picture of what the rock looks like under its protective wrappings.  Worth having a look; tomorrow it will be in Long Beach which is really just a stone's throw from OC.

I thought the little work lights strung around the rock were cute.

A bee, a caudiciform, a self-satisfied cackle

I found a honey bee clinging to a flower in the middle of the day, appearing to be at the end of its last honey run.  While a bit sad the scene was pretty with the bee glowing in the sunlight reflected off the flower that I was darned if I could remember the name of.

An iceplant (aizoaceae family); for sure.  This one grows erect and shrubby, with typical iceplant leaves and of course the small orange flowers.  So I searched on the internets for "shrubby iceplant orange flower" and scrolled down the page.  Not Ruschia pulvinaris or mesembranthemum; not lampranthus of any kind but there toward the bottom of page one I found a promising entry: Mestoklema arboriforme at San Marcos Growers.  No photo.  Search for Mestoklema (no wonder I couldn't remember the name, it's hard to type and hard to say) and photos confirm this is the genus but my plant could be either M. arborifome (more likely to form a water-storing stem or caudix) or M. tuberosa.  Still, I couldn't suppress a little gurgly cackle of self-satisfaction with my researching skills.  You know how Gollum sounded when he caught a fish in the forbidden pool in Two Towers?

Anyway, next day I found the bee dead, its tarsi still clinging to the Mestoklema (I'm going with) arboriforme flower.

Beware the Solanum?

I was creeping around a well-known garden center in Newport Beach whose name shall remain nameless because they are already well known enough, checking out their very cool but too expensive collection of Halloween decor.  Out of the corner of my eye, looking past the gigantic animated spider, the moon-face jack o lanterns, the headless horseman, the gothic costumes and candelabra, the skeletons, the crows, the spooky photos . . . um, yeah and the price tags . . . past all this I saw some scrumptiously Octoberesque porcupine tomatoes, Solanum pyracanthum.  Yeah, this garden center is really more of a lifestyle shopping  experience, but they do also sell plants.

Hold onto your credit cards, this one gallon specimen of one of my favorite plants was less than 10 bucks.  Since I already knew what pot it would look good in (bought when Mainly Seconds in Orange was closing for 70% off) I wasted no time picking out the best of the litter and carting my new porcupine tomato home.

Called that because 1) it is in the tomato genus, closely related and it even produces little tomato-like fruits after flowering in a tomato-like but purple way; and 2) it is covered in long spines.  Now, porcupine spines are not day-glo orange, but as you know common names for plants sometimes stretch the truth.

After the plant was potted up (with sedum nussbaumeranium, lilac lobelia, and lysimachia congestiflora 'Persian chocolate'), looking good, and set in a place of honor by the front stairs, I noticed a group of newly hatched leaf footed bugs, Leptoglossus zonatus, gathered on a flower bud.  It looked like they were in a huddle or maybe a prayer meeting but really I suppose they were just getting ready to disperse.  Here's one that was well on its way to exploring the porcupine tomato world it has found itself inhabiting.

I assume the bug eggs were on the solanum plant when I bought it, and hatched soon after I brought it home.  Tomato is one of the many many plants this bug likes to feed on, being as they say polyphagous.  Previously in my garden the leaf footed bugs have been found on pomegranate, opuntia, myrtle, jade plant and milkweed.  I guess I got some cool (and free of additional charge) Halloween bug decorations after all.

Finally one last note about solanum:  it is in no way connected with zombie-ism.  Solanum virus is NOT REAL.  Solanum is a genus of plants, not a zombie-causing virus.  Check out this article from the Zombie Research Society for clarification on all things zombie.  Thank you.