Dew, dew, dew what you did, did, did before

From November 9th at the Riata Trace Pond, look what the dew did to this gulf vervain (Verbena xutha) inflorescence. For a closer look at the effects of the roration, click the excerpt below.

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As a Thanksgiving follow-up, you can check out an appreciation of America by Jewish Iranian refugee Roya Hakakian, A Modern-Day Pilgrim From the ‘Land of No,‘ that appeared in Common Sense by Bari Weiss.

© 2021 Steven Schwartzman

Firewheel edge-on

On the morning of May 25th I went out to an area where there still wasn’t much light. Even at a high ISO, all I could manage was an aperture of f/4, so I decided to go for some limited-focus portraits like this one of a firewheel, Gaillardia pulchella, with dewdrops on it.

Making the most of a least daisy

The previous post showed you a densely mixed colony of four-nerve daisies and much smaller least daisies (Chaetopappa bellidifolia), whose flower heads are maybe only a fourth of an inch (6mm) across. While I was on the east side of Yaupon Dr. on April 23rd I found a least daisy rising a little above a horizontal spiderweb that lay close to the ground and sparkled with light reflected from morning dew. Those reflections played through the elements in my lens and in so doing created the unusual nonagon-strewn portrait you see here.

© 2020 Steven Schwartzman

Away from Bull Creek

Away from Bull Creek but still in St. Edward’s Park on June 11th I found a bunch
of horsemints, Monarda citriodora, in a clearing. I aimed straight down at one.

It was morning, and the corona of dewdrops atop the horsemint hadn’t evaporated yet,
as you can see more clearly by clicking below for an enlargement of the center.

If you’d like a reminder (or never knew) what a horsemint looks like,
here’s a more-conventional view of one from the side:

© 2019 Steven Schwartzman

Green

‘Tis not shamrocks but wood-sorrel (Oxalis spp.) greening the ground in our back yard on February 25th.

And if it’s more three-part green leaves ye be craving, here’s another view of southern dewberry
(Rubus trivialis), this time from February 27th in the northeast quadrant of Mopac and US 183:

© 2019 Steven Schwartzman

Maximilian sunflowers in February!

Maximilian sunflowers (Helianthus maximiliani) are fall-blooming wildflowers—except when they decide to bloom in February. More precisely, the date was February 27th, and the place was the northeast quadrant of Mopac and US 183. In this perennial species even a plant with dead leaves was giving rise to new flowers.

In both photographs the droplets attest to a morning that had been misty and occasionally even drizzly. In fact I’d gone out hoping to photograph some fog but it had dissipated by the time I reached this site. Speaking of which, I’ve photographed Maximilian sunflowers on this plot of land in their traditional season, and I’ve also photographed common sunflowers there. It was on one of those that I took a picture of a tiny bee fly that got Freshly Pressed in just the second month of this blog way back in 2011. Maybe you’ll be freshly impressed if you take a look at it.

© 2019 Steven Schwartzman

Dewdrops on spiderwebs on silver bluestem seed head remains

Click for better clarity.

West of Morado Circle this past Christmas morning.
Silver bluestem = Bothriochloa laguroides subsp. torreyana.

© 2019 Steven Schwartzman

A differently shaped and colored wildflower in December

In case you thought yesterday’s picture of bright yellow camphorweed barely counted for wildflowers in December because the flowering came only three days into the month, here’s a picture of a droplet-covered prairie verbena (Glandularia bipinnatifida) on the misty morning of December 18th at the Riata Trace Pond.

© 2018 Steven Schwartzman

Bushy bluestem covered with droplets

As you heard once before, on the morning of December 3rd last year I set out to get some fog pictures. I didn’t get any, unless you count pictures of plants covered with droplets that had condensed out of the fog. The bushy bluestem (Andropogon glomeratus) seed head shown here is another example. If you’re unfamiliar with this native grass that takes on delectable colors and textures in the late fall and winter, you can look at a stand from farther back in space in time.

© 2018 Steven Schwartzman

Okay, make that three whites in a row

The first two had white in their names: white prickly poppy and white avens. The rain-lily, Cooperia pedunculata, isn’t named that way, but it’s white all the same. This one was growing near the intersection of Brite Rd. and FM 713 in Caldwell County on April 23rd, a few days after the rains had begun making themselves at home in central Texas. That said, I think the droplets on this flower were from dew rather than rain.

© 2015 Steven Schwartzman