chaparraljournal

[chaparraljournal]

The twin chaparral yuccas (Hesperoyucca whipple) at peak bloom. It’s been only a few weeks since these two were small green stalks without a single flower between them.

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Western redbud (Cercis occidentalis), a neon standout even when the rest of the landscape is awash with wildflowers.

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California lilac (Ceanothus thyrsiflorus) in full bloom. Glorious.

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California bluebells (Phacelia minor), also known as Canterbury bells.

I think we’ve had more purple/blue wildflowers this year than any other color.

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With the blooming part over, this purple nightshade (Solanum xanti) sets about forming its fruit.

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Common stork’s bill (Erodium cicutarium), a tiny plant growing in the narrowest, shallowest crevice possible in this boulder. Nature finds a way.

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Bajada lupine (Lupinus concinnus), a tiny plant maybe 3 inches tall.

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Spotted hideseed (Eucrypta chrysanthemifolia).

It’s a native of the American Southwest and California, but to me it looks like something you’d find in the Alps.

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The manroot, or wild cucumber (Marah fabacea), a sprawling vine that is happy growing up through a bush or along the ground.

In a previous post I mentioned its weird, spiky fruit. By happenstance I learned that this is what wild cucumbers (that is, uncultivated) really look like—far different than the smooth and oblong cucumber we put in our salads.

What’s even more surprising is the that the wild cucumber sprouts tiny flowers that are different that then flowers on the vine.

So you have the wild version of a fruit that we consider a vegetable that grows on a vine with one kind of flower along the stem and yet sprouts another on the fruit itself. And which looks nothing like what we consider a ”cucumber.”

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Clematis (Clematis pauciflora), a pretty yellow vine that seemingly only shows up in rock crevices. A native of the California high desert and chaparral habitat, it’s ranked as “G3,” the least critical stage for “vulnerable” plant species.

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Collared annual lupine (Lupinus truncatus). I love the color change going up the stem.

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The dried seed pods of last year’s chaparral yucca (Hesperoyucca whipplei), looking for all the world like something out of “Little Shop of Horrors.”

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Fringed redmaids (Calandrinia menziesii), tiny, low-growing flowers that can range from pale pink and lilac to deep magenta.

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A lesser goldfinch (Spinus psaltria). A male, as identified by his black cap.

These are tiny, among the smallest birds, measuring only about 4 inches long, and are typically monogamous for life.

They’re among my favorites for the beautiful flash of yellow as they fly by.

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Threadleaf ragwort (Senecio flaccidus),a member of the daisy family. We had only one plant and maybe three blooms this spring, and all of them exhibited the same slightly twisted, downward petals.

A native of the Great Plains, it likes dry and “disturbed” habitat such as creek beds, dirt roads and trails.

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Some other views of the thickleaf yerba santa (Eriodictyon crassifolium).

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The San Diego horned lizard (Phrynosoma blainvillii), a “species of special concern” as designated by the California Dept. of Fish and Wildlife. They’ve been affected by habitat loss and the spread of non-native Argentine ants, which eat the lizard’s preferred diet of harvester ants.

Small and sluggish, the horned lizard’s main defense is camouflage. On soil they’re essentially invisible. It’s only when one ventures out onto the concrete driveway that I can spot them (I always scoop them up and return them near the closest plant).

They look rather like a miniature triceratops, don’t they?