How many butterflies can you find?

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A young planting of Mexican Flamevine, Pseudogynoxys chenopodioides, has been attracting so many butterflies to our yard lately.

Zebra Longwing, the official state butterfly of Florida, sips nectar from a Mexican Flamevine flower

The vine, in the same family as daisies, Asteraceae, is native to Mexico, Central America and the West Indies. My plant came from small cuttings my daughter and I snipped off about a year ago from a sprawling stand of Mexican Flamevine growing along Lake Minneola.

Yikes!
Quite the climber!

Since my garden history includes many times when my love of vines has outweighed common sense, I was understandably conflicted about adding yet another potentially overly-aggressive plant to our landscape.  I knew Mexican Flamevine would be an attractive addition to the yard if I could only figure out the right place to put it.  I also knew that due to my lazy nature, no matter where it was planted, it would probably get out of control.  Hmm...what to do?

Amber looking rather pleased with our find

My 'must-have-another-vine' me was the winner. Unable to resist the incredible color of the plant's bright, daisy-like flowers, I took home a few cuttings, stuck them in some of Ralph's potting soil, placed them in a shady spot where they'd be watered regularly and then basically forgot about them.

What a color!!

It turned out that one of my cuttings survived.  Unfortunately, I didn't realize it at the time because I foolishly neglected to label it. (Remember what I said about me being lazy?)  So a few months ago, when I decided to install a potted Beach Sunflower (Helianthus debilis) - another rooted cutting that was growing without a name tag - in the sandy soil next to our trampoline, I mistakenly planted my rooted cutting of Mexican Flamevine instead.

Oops! Took the wrong plant 

By the time I realized my mistake, the Mexican Flamevine had begun to thrive.  It had extended new stems and leaves and multiple flowers had begun to bloom.  From the kitchen window, I look right at it.  While washing dishes or working on the counter my eyes are constantly drawn to the brilliant orange blooms.

Apparently, I'm not the only caught up in the plant's allure.  Butterflies aplenty have been coming to visit!  The Gulf Fritillary and Zebra Longwing have been the most frequent visitors so far but other flutterers, bees and pollinators check it out as well.

Here's a short video I made of several Gulf Fritillary butterflies fluttering around the bold blooms on a hot summer afternoon. 

How many can you find?

I don't know yet where my Mexican Flamevine will end up, but I doubt if it will stay in the place where it's currently growing.  I only hope that at some point I'll figure out an appropriate spot for it to go. Somewhere where it can thrive without growing out of control.  Somewhere where I can see it often and enjoy the show.  Somewhere that will make us all happy - plant, pollinators and lazy gardener me. 

A walk through the gardens

Now that summer is officially here, I decided to go for a walk around the property and check out some of the many hot-weather ornamental plants.

My first stop was at the Angel’s Trumpet, Brugmansia, which is growing next to the clay wall along our driveway.

Angel's trumpet (Brugmansia sp.)

This is my first year growing the bushy plant, and it’s already taller than I am with more than a dozen buds about to open. I planted it long enough ago to have forgotten what color the pendulous floral bells were going to be so, it was a nice surprise to see the first two peachy-pink flowers emerge.

Another plant that escaped my memory is a white crinum lily that had been transplanted to a spot beneath the Louis Philippe rose bushes. In addition to the rose, which is a sprawling, hardy, bright red bush with fragrant blooms, the white crinum is growing among numerous pink rain lilies and a solitary pineapple plant with fruit almost ready to pick.

White crinum lily

The Florida Exotic Pest Plant Council considers Japanese honeysuckle, Lonicera japonic, an exotic pest, but I've grown the vine for more than 20 years and find it quite manageable. It’s far less invasive on our property than many other vines that aren’t on the council's list.

Japanese honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica)

I like Japanese honeysuckle because it triggers memories of my childhood in Yardley, Pa. where the bushy vine grew wild around the railroad tracks near my parents' home. In those days, when I went for walks or bike rides, I'd always stop to pick a flower (or two or three) to suck the “honey” from the sweet-smelling flower's stem end. I know now that the stem end is called a calyx but to my younger self, the stem end was just a soft straw through which I could catch a taste of sweetness on a hot summer day.

I believe my fondness for honeysuckle is due to long-ago memories of nectar between my lips combined with the fragrance of so many flowers in one place and the buzzing whirl of bees competing with me for the nectar. One plant stimulating so many senses is pretty heady stuff.

Orange Flame Justicia, Justicia chrysostephana, is another relatively new addition to my garden. It was given to me last year and although it flowered a bit in 2014, it was still in a pot. A few months ago, I transplanted it into the ground in an area of enriched soil where it gets a fair amount of sun and regular water.

Orange Flame Justicia (Justicia chrysostephana)

It seems to like its new home. Several orbs of bright orange flower spikes protrude above large green leaves. In the morning, I sometimes see hummingbirds fly to the orange flowerheads. They’re attracted to the color, and I am too.

I like Justicia so much, I want to add more to the landscape. My daughter Amber has several other colors of Justicia growing in her beautiful yard in Winter Garden, and I'm hoping she'll pot up some cuttings for me.

Black-eyed Susan, Rudbeckia hirta, has such a happy face. A few years ago, I planted a couple seedlings alongside the barn. Over time, those original two flowers multiplied — not a lot, but enough to hint at the broad field of wildflowers I'd someday like to have.

Black-eyed susan (Rudbeckia hirta)

Some people call Passiflora incarnate maypop or apricot vine, but when I first arrived in Florida this fancy flower with the frilly purple fringe was introduced to me as passionflower vine. I've had a passion for it ever since.

Purple passionflower (Passiflora incarnata)

When we lived on a small lot in Kissimmee, I grew the wild purple passionflower on a trellis along the side of our house. It made a beautiful living wall that attracted butterflies and bees. When we moved to Groveland in the early 1990s, I no longer needed to cultivate the vine because it grew wild throughout our property. I see it in the woods, along the shoreline, creeping across fields and even in the bamboo groves where it does its best to cling to the canes and reach up high.

Although I absorbed the beauty of other flowers on my walk, I conclude with a mixed pot of two plants. Several years ago, I placed a large square container of white caladiums and pink rain lilies just outside my bedroom window.

Caladium and rain lilies

Although I didn’t realize it at the time, those flowers in that spot provides me with me with a special gift. In the summer, I wake up each morning and go to sleep each night looking out at the caladium's heart-shaped leaves and the rain lilies' cheery pink flowers. It’s a fine floral way to start and end a day.

This season makes scents

On my way to town the other day, I stopped by my neighbor's house to pick up some eggs. As I carried them back to the car, my neighbor plucked a gardenia bloom off a large bush by his house and gave it to me.

"Thank you," I said. "I love the way gardenias smell."

After securing the eggs so they'd travel undamaged, I slid into my seat and placed the gardenia on the dashboard. The flower's fragrance filled the air. Instead of being in the cozy confines of my compact car, I suddenly felt as though I had entered a flower shop.

How to freshen your auto's air the natural way:  Place gardenias on the dashboard 

Gardenias are only one of numerous flowering plants that are currently infusing the atmosphere with their aromatic charms. Others include white and purple wisterias, four-o'clocks, butterfly gingers, roses, magnolia blossoms and the small white blooms of Confederate jasmine. While I enjoy each flower's unique fragrance, Confederate jasmine might just be my favorite because of its transformative quality as well as its ability to saturate the air with sweetness.

Confederate jasmine entwined around a pink oleander bush

Despite its name, Confederate jasmine is neither a true jasmine nor is it native to southeastern U.S. Scientifically known as Trachelospermum jasminoides, this Chinese native is a fast-growing, disease-resistant, drought tolerant vine that boasts small, sticky, pinwheel-shaped white flowers from late spring through summer. Although all parts of the plant are poisonous if ingested, I find its intoxicating fragrance and delicate beauty more than compensates for its toxic features.

Like most vines, Confederate jasmine is a climber. It likes to climb and climb and climb some more. A single plant will quickly overtake a tree, a house, a wall or a fence. Several years ago, I planted a few small sprigs along an ugly clay wall that parallels our driveway. With little more than hope to go on, I stuck the young starts into the ground with minimal care and even less preparation and then promptly forgot about them. Without even realizing it was happening, the clay wall began to disappear. Bit by bit, the plant's coverage increased. Today, the clay wall is almost entirely covered by a screen of green leaves and white blooms. And the air — oh, my goodness — how amazing it smells whenever I step outside!

The clay wall by our house hidden behind an expanding screen of Confederate jasmine vines

Of all the places where I see it growing — and during this time of year, I see Confederate jasmine alongside most roads and in every neighborhood I pass through — the setting I like best is when it covers a fence. Confederate jasmine planted along a chain-link fence not only perfumes the air, it also manages to transform an ugly structure into a botanical showcase.

With so many fragrant flowers to choose from during Central Florida's warm-weather season, the need for artificial air fresheners should be non-existent. Three days after I placed my neighbor's flower on my car's dashboard, the solitary gardenia bloom continues to infuse the auto's interior with floral perfume. When its fragrance finally abates, I probably will replace it with a few sprigs of Confederate jasmine or, if I feel in the mood for a spicier aroma, a snippet or two of rosemary, basil or peppermint leaves will do the trick.

In this period of floral profusion, it's more relevant than ever to take time — to make time — to smell the roses.

Another Florida Scrub Jay encounter

I took my usual back roads route to town this morning in the hope of seeing some Florida Scrub Jays in the yet-to-be-developed acreage along Grassy Lake Road in Minneola.

I wasn't disappointed.  Not only did I see a solitary sentry surveying its hilltop domain, but a second jay appeared to stand guard together.

Solitary sentry

If one guard is good, are scrub jays safer with two guards standing watch...

Shortly after, hunger must have struck because one of the two birds left its post to seek out some Rosary Pea seeds.

Pretty to look at but deadly if eaten by humans.  Fortunately, the toxins in Rosary Pea do not harm birds at all

Rosary Pea Vines are twining their way throughout the area where the Scrub Jays live.  Although highly toxic to people, the bright red and black berries are perfectly safe for birds to eat.

A scrub jay enjoys a Rosary Pea snack

The orange blooms of flame vine light up the landscape

If you like bold colors, you’ll probably love the cascading blooms of Pyrostegia venusta, commonly known as flame vine or flaming trumpet.

Pyrostegia venusta is one of those you-can’t-help-but-notice-me vines. The bright orange tubular blooms of this vigorous climber jump out of the landscape like a flash fire, blazing a colorful streak across the dull winter landscape.

Many flame vines have been catching my eyes over the past few months while driving around Central Florida. Occasionally I’ve passed “well behaved” vines that cover a fence or tumble over a trellis in an attractive, neat fashion. More often than not, however, the vine’s height-hungry tendrils have reached up and out of control.

Native to southern Brazil, northern Argentina and Paraguay, flame vine was first spotted in North America in the mid-1800s and quickly made its way across the southern, warm-weather states. Other vines may be satisfied with creeping along the ground, but not this one. It insists upon upward mobility. Once established, a single vine can grow to be 80-feet-tall and can cover entire tree canopies, smothering the trees that lend it support.

Although not listed as an invasive plant species by the Florida Exotic Pest Plant Council, the rampant growth pattern of this vine makes it unsuitable for many landscapes, including mine. As much as I admire its beauty, I’ve also noted its aggressive behavior. I don’t want to add yet another difficult-to-control plant to my own landscape. However, that doesn’t keep me from appreciating it elsewhere.

I still remember the first time I noticed this flower. It was many years ago when I was new to the area and exploring some of the older downtowns. I was driving along Main Avenue in Minneola en route to downtown Clermont when, on my left, I passed by an older two-story wooden building housing the Just My Style Hair Salon & Spa. In front of the structure was a white arbor and low fence completely engulfed by what I later learned was flame vine. What a sight! The plant’s orange blooms were — and continue to this day to be — absolutely stunning.

While people like me admire these climbing beauties from afar, hummingbirds take a more hands-on — perhaps I should say, “heads-on” — approach. The nectar-producing flame vine flowers, which also attract bees, are just the right shape to accommodate a hummingbird’s long bill. The vine also draws songbirds but for a different reason. The dense, tightly woven vines provide well-hidden places to build nests and raise young.

Flame vines have not finished blooming. They should continue producing prolific amounts of tangerine-colored flowers throughout March and early April. So the next time you’re driving down the road and pass a flash of color spread across the treetops or notice a fence line covered in a flush of radiant blossoms, you’ll know you are passing one of nature’s boldest bloomers. Flame vine may not burn like a fire but its beauty will be emblazed on your memory for years to come.

To plant or not to plant...

SIMPLY LIVING
When I visit my daughter in Winter Garden, I often take back roads instead of the highway.  I find back roads more interesting with their twists and turns, pretty views and occasional surprises.  Sometimes I see unexpected wildlife, but more often, I spot an unfamiliar wildflower growing along stretches of yet-to-be developed land.

Last week on the drive to Amber's house, I noticed an reddish-orange-flowered vine scrambling over the underbrush along a yet-to-be developed stretch of roadside.  

Long after I returned home, the pretty vine kept twining through my mind.  I wondered what it was and if it was a native plant or an invasive exotic.  Over the years, I’ve learned to be careful with vines.  All too often I've made the mistake of introducing attractive climbers to our landscape only to find out after they became established how difficult they are to control.

One of my (many) mistakes was adding wild blue morning glory vine to the landscape

Although I didn’t pull over last week to take clippings of the unfamiliar bloom, my resolve weakened a few days later when I found myself along the same stretch of two-lane road. 

It only took a couple minutes to pull onto the shoulder, hop out of the car - clippers in hand – and snip off a few lengths of the sprawling vine.  While there, I snapped a few pictures as well.  My plan was to look up and identify the vine when I returned home then post pictures online before planting.  If I received enough positive feedback – reassurance that it wasn’t a known problem plant and wouldn’t spread like crazy – maybe I’d add it to our landscape.

The plant turned out to be Ipomoea cocchinea (CQ), native to the eastern United States.  It has many common names including red or scarlet morning glory, scarlet creeper and redstar, a moniker referring to the star-shaped, pale orange throat of the flower’s small tubular blooms.  

Scarlet morning glory climbing across shrubs

To help me with my decision, I posted a picture of the plant to a Facebook group called Florida Botany asking if anyone had personal experience with the plant.  Before long, several members responded.

“I love these,” wrote a member based in the Florida panhandle.  “When we had them, they died back good in winter, allowing me to control their growth.”

Sharing her enthusiasm was a member based in the state’s central east coast.  “I had a volunteer show up in my mom and dad’s yard sometime ago and have not found it to be invasive at all.  In fact, I wish it would show up more, as I love it!”

Three hours later, the first negative comment arrived.  “My experience with I. Cocchinea is a little different,” wrote a Stetson University biology professor.  “I love them but have had them completely overgrow small trees.  One vine almost completely covered a dahoon holly.  Now that they are established, I get tons of seedlings every year.”

While the first two posts offered encouragement, the professor’s comment gave me pause.  His description of the vine’s aggressiveness mirrored my previous experiences with several other “found” species that I unwittingly introduced to the landscape. 

Reading over these and other comments as well as doing more online research provided much to ponder. 

On the plus side, the Florida Exotic Pest Plant Council does not consider Ipomoea cocchinea invasive.  And wildlife like it.  The vine’s small but bright colored flowers attract any number of butterflies, bees and hummingbirds.  Who wouldn’t want to add a natural hummingbird magnet to their yard?

On the negative side, it sounds like Ipomoea cocchinea will self-seed prolifically, popping up in unwanted spots like my husband’s vegetable garden.  Not a good thing.  Also, as my past experience with blue morning glory (Ipomoea indica) proved, once established it will be nearly impossible to eliminate.

While I stood by my computer weighing the pros and cons, a new comment popped up on Facebook. 

“I’ve found them to be pretty aggressive,” wrote a Florida Botany member from Crawfordville.  “I sure wouldn’t put them in my garden but might allow them out by the roadside.”

His comment offered the kind of compromise that made sense to me.  Red morning glory vine, I think you found a new home. 

Found plants enhance garden

White-tipped green foliage and reddish-pink blooms combined with ease of care make ‘Daisy Mezoo’ a lovely addition to garden beds or container plantings

SIMPLY LIVING

Some of my favorite flowers had their start as tiny snips from another person’s garden.  Although I may not know the plant’s name or growth pattern, something about its appearance makes me brave enough to ask a stranger for permission to take a cutting. 

Occasionally, such uninformed decisions backfire. 

That’s what happened many years ago when I took a tiny snippet from a lovely blue-flowering morning glory vine covering a towering pine on the outskirts of Howey-in-the-Hills.  The fact that the tree’s limbs were almost entirely concealed beneath this climbing beauty should have been sufficient warning, but I was young and impetuous.  I loved the color – blue as a summer sky – and was determined to add it to my yard.

The beautiful blue flower of wild morning glory vine is quite alluring

Add it, I did.

Two decades later, wild morning glory vines continue to run rampant on our property.  While still awed by the beautiful blue blooms, I’m long past believing I’ll ever rid our property completely of the enchantingly insidious vine.  Although they could be controlled with herbicide, we opt instead to limit the area where they can wrap their greedy tendrils around whatever ground, shrub or tree they encounter. Outside the designated area, it’s a different story.  The vines are subject to the mower’s ruthless blades.

Regular mowing prevents invasive vine from growing out of control

Despite my morning glory fiasco and a few other less than positive found-plant experiences, my penchant for procuring free-for-the-taking plants remains strong. 

About a year ago while attending a Garden Web plant exchange in Oakland, I became enamored with a white-tipped green-leafed succulent cascading over the edge of the host’s raised bed.  After gaining permission to take a few snippets home, I proceeded to plant the cuttings in various locations around the yard, experimenting to see which would work best.

Plant lovers from around Central Florida gather at a Garden Web plant swap

 

At first, little happened.  The cuttings weren’t dead but most weren’t taking off like crazy either.  Considering what happened with the morning glory, I didn’t find lack of exuberant growth to be a bad thing.  I waited patiently, occasionally checking on the plants’ progress but in general, gave the cuttings little attention.  I didn’t even bother to discover their identity. 

Until recently.

A few weeks ago, while perusing the garden beds, pausing to pull a few weeds here and snap a few pictures there, I noticed that the cuttings rooted in the only container receiving regular irrigation was doing exceptionally well.  Not only was this one plant growing faster than any of the others – by now it too cascaded over the edge of its container - it was the only one with a surprise.  Tucked amongst the foliage was an abundance of reddish-pink, dime-sized flowers.  

The unexpected blooms were the push I needed to find out what exactly I had planted.

I posted a picture of the flowering plant on Facebook and asked for identification help.  My daughter Amber responded with a link to an article by Anne K Moore on the www.GardenSmart.tv site entitled, “Icy Plant For Summer’s Heat.”  

The article described Dorotheanthus bellidiformis, also known as Livingston Daisy Mezoo Trailing Red and included an image that looked exactly like my plant.  More research ensued and before long I became well informed about my botanical find.  Daisy Mezoo Trailing Red is a variety of ice plant that works well as a groundcover, in rock gardens, hanging baskets or in mixed-plant containers.  While drought tolerant, it also responds well to regular watering, is unbothered by pests or plant diseases and requires little care other than protection from extreme cold.  From all I read, it does not have a tendency to become invasive, spreading out of control like my misbegotten morning glories.

I couldn’t be happier with this discovery.  Not only do found plants provide beauty and add variety to the garden, each cutting contains a memory of where it originated.  When I walk around our property and come upon morning glory vines enthusiastically engulfing an elderberry bush or banana plant, the blue flowers remind me of my own youthful exuberance.  For just a second, I’m back in Howey-in-the-Hills, clipping off a section of vine, filled with excitement to be bringing it home. 

Wild morning glories engulfing banana plants

Likewise, as I walk around the house pausing to observe the latest growth on my pretty ‘Daisy Mezoo’ succulents, I think back on that Garden Web plant exchange.  Each attractive leaf and unexpected bloom reminds me of the generosity of gardeners.  People who love plants not only like to share that love others with others, they enjoy sharing plants as well.

POSTSCRIPT
For those wondering how to start cuttings, I suggest buying a container of rooting compound called Rootone at your local garden center and following the directions on the container.  

Here's a link from the Rootone site that is very helpful:  How to start cuttings.  I'm also including a helpful video I found online on how to root cuttings that is also informative: 

   

Vines are...divine!

Blue sky vine beautifies a chain link fence

Simply Living
December 12, 2011

I love vines.

I love their tenacity and reckless abandon. I love the way they march onward and upward despite minimal care and attention.

I find their variations in fragrance, color and delicate beauty appealing. I see vines growing in wild places or in other people's yards, and I want them. They captivate and entice me.

Fortunately, I'm learning to resist.

Vines have a way of taking over. It's in their nature. If you are prepared and willing to put the time and effort into reining them in, then cultivating vines is a worthy occupation. They can look lovely crawling over an arbor, trellis or pergola, and they work well at hiding an unattractive wall or object. Vines add beauty to a hanging basket and do a good job as a ground cover. However, if you are unable to regularly monitor and control their growth, a pretty little vine can turn into a pretty big problem.

I've made the mistake of planting vines and watching them grow out of control on numerous occasions. I've done it with wild morning glory, purple and white wisteria, passionflower, cypress vine and Dutchman's pipevine. In each case, what started as a snip — a tiny cutting gleaned from a larger plant — turned into a rambling monster over the course of a summer.

Part of the problem is that vines know no bounds. When you plant a broccoli seedling or an impatiens plant, it grows bigger and broader but never wanders. It stays put — a concept that doesn't mesh with the word "vine."

A vine's essence is to grow up, stretch out, sprawl sideways. It does whatever it can to extend its range as far away from the initial root as possible. Some vines do their climbing with help from tendrils, while others twine or use aerial rootlets. Whatever the method, the result is expansive growth far beyond where the plant was originally established.

Pruning is necessary to keep vines in check.

When it comes to vines, I also require a certain amount of restraint. I need to prune back my predilection to cultivate more vines than I have time or energy to control.

Recently, I've found myself coveting a blue sky vine that grows along the entry fence to a home on one of the back roads I frequent. Every time I drive by, I feel a yearning. I want that vine! Its flowers are such a beautiful shade of blue. It looks so pretty along the fence.

If I stopped and asked, I'm sure the homeowners wouldn't object to my taking a clipping, snipping off a little segment to plant at my own home. But if I got a clipping, what then? Once it was rooted, where would I place it? Would it grow out of control as so many other vines have done? Would it become a problem?

It probably would.

Before I add any new vines to the landscape, I need a plan, a place for them to grow and a means to control them when — not if — they start to grow out of bounds.

I have a solution, at least in my mind.

I envision a series of arbors in a long row. The arbors would form a tunnel that I could walk through and on each one, a different vine would climb and twine. The arbors would be separate so that the plants couldn't intermingle. Mowing the ground between them would keep them contained.

I love vines but I'm trying hard to resist the urge to add more to the landscape. Someday I might get a snip of that lovely blue sky vine but I've promised myself it won't be until all the necessary infrastructure is in place and I have the time and inclination to keep the vine in check.