It’s winter for a short time more and the ranch is wearing winter colors —

cold blues,

shades of gray,

and gentle browns bitten by freeze.

I love a winter day that points to spring

while carrying along memories of fall.

Today I am in my swing, a favorite spot to write,

looking out across winter

while reflecting on harvest gold,

whitish cream,

and layers of brown that shimmer in the sun and wave in the wind.

I’m falling back to a favorite season when seed heads of the native grasses reach their full splendor and reveal who lives with me at the ranch.

The military order of Sideoats Grama,

the small hairy tufts of Texas Grama,

the sparkling seeds of Little Bluestem,

 

the showy plumes of Lindheimer’s Muhly,

and the dainty floating seeds of a Lovegrass are characteristics of the native grasses that blanket the hilltops and slopes.

Once I learned their names, a walk among them took on new meaning. I appreciated that Little Bluestem is one of the “big four” most desirable prairie grasses, that Texas Grama is highly drought tolerant, and that longhorns may not love a lovegrass but seed-eating birds do.

These are facts found in a reference book.

But then, I noticed… how the seeds of a sideoats grama look like they stand in salute as I pass,

how the swaying spikes of muhly grass

resemble the white flag of a white-tail tail

as the deer darts and bounces away,

and how the entire top of a lovegrass breaks free to disperse its seed, floating in the wind like a tumbleweed until lodging itself in a new location.

No matter where a lovegrass lands, it softens the view, like love landing on the soul.

These are stories of how I experience the grasses.

Some experiences among the grasses entertain, like my game of “Look Closer,” the sport of slowing down to discover treasures all around.

Try it.

Look closer!

What a brilliant blue settled in a sea of brown.

Some prizes are hard to hide in the grasses.

Others are impossible.

Observing grasses in the morning dew is a magical experience.

A blanket of water lying across a field of grass glistens white like snow.

But when examined closer, the drops of dew dangling from the stalks and seeds are like jewelry — strings of beads reflecting gems of many colors — the price set by the Creator is free.

 

Grasses at the waters edge call up a community experience.

They attract the thirsty —

whether in love

or at war.

I walk the shore and reflect on the truth of how I shall never thirst. (John 4:14)

Grasses around my home bring comfort.

Outside, a maiden grass near the window

reminds me to watch for seeds of possibility in my days.

Sprays of grass grace my flower arrangements.

And brought inside —

lovegrass sends an airy welcome,

a sampling of seeds sparks curiosity,

and at the right hour, a pop of luminance makes me smile.

Like people, the grasses live among the company of all types and colors.

The blending is beautiful.

The hillsides of grasses are like an orchestra, an ensemble composed of different instruments that together perform a symphony of color, shape, texture, and size, overwhelming the emotions of all who behold the artistry.

And, while it takes the full orchestra to perform the symphony, the individual instruments speak uniquely to each listener. What moves one symphony goer may be the velvety sound of a viola, another the rousing timber of the trumpet, and another the feel of the deep booming bass drum.

In my orchestra of grasses the silver bluestem is the instrument that moves me.

Silver bluestem rises above the even mat of grasses and their fluffy seed heads shimmer pure white when the sun shines through them.

They are radiant.

And yet, as bright as a silver bluestem shines in the direct sun, it is when darkness sets in and the setting sun shines through its seed head that it becomes resplendent, holding on to the light longer than all the other grasses.

Like little beacons of light, they float above the tops of the grass.

They remind me of volunteer work that brings light to a situation where before there was no hope to see.

They remind me of lost loved ones, their memory still luminous while we walk in the shadows.

They remind me of christ, always the light, and most radiant when all else dims, and we let him lead the way.

It is through the stories of how I experience the grasses where I challenge what I think and discover what I believe.

Still, I’m interested to match my experiences with more knowledge of the names.

So, I am undertaking a new project — an inventory of the plants and trees of the Lost Madrone Ranch.

And, I’ve engaged the help of an expert, Patty Leslie Pasztor.

Unlike the flood clean-up experts, or the broken refrigerator expert, or the expert who reports you need a new roof, Patty is the expert you want to come visit.

She is co-author of the book, Texas Trees: A Friendly Guide, the former native plant horticulturist at the San Antonio Botanical Garden, former park naturalist for Friedrich Wilderness Park, and a Master Naturalist instructor on too many topics to list.

I am lucky to call Patty a friend — a friend I met when our kids were in kindergarten together, but a friend I came to know through walks at the Lost Madrone Ranch.

It is a joy to walk with Patty. She is not only an expert in trees, native plants, birds, and butterflies, but her ability to spot everything — from the ordinary to the rare — is exceptional. And, when she finds a find you can’t help but share her enthusiasm.

[An excited gasp…]  Oh, oh wow… look!

“Scarlet Hedgehog Cactus, Echinocereus coccineus, beautiful! So cool, it is usually further west.”

“Hey, that’s a Three-flower Melic Grass, Melica nitens, neato that you have it!”

“Yay, definitely Matelea edwardsensis! Endemic to the Edwards Plateau! That is really, really neat!”

“Spreading Least Daisy, Chaetopappa effusa, another endemic, it grows no place else in the world, that’s so cool!”

“Here, taste it, it tastes like cucumbers!”

Last fall was our first walk to identify grasses.  The weekend before, I collected grass to get a jump on the inventory. My dining table looked like a science lab, and I had identified close to 20 varieties of grasses.

After walking with Patty, the collection grew to over 30 varieties and stories enriched my list.

A full inventory may take several years of searching.

Seasons of rain and sunshine versus seasons of drought will decide whether some plants appear, so it may take several seasons before seeing them.

Did you know that a single mullein plant (not native but found at the Lost Madrone) can produce over 100,000 seeds that can lie dormant and viable for over 100 years, on hold for the right conditions to grow?

What other seeds might be waiting?

Livestock, wild pigs, and other wildlife on the ranch will also impact what I find to identify.

I often wonder as I watch the longhorns graze, “what might they be eating that I will never know was here?”

Texas beargrass is all over the ranch and it blooms a cluster of cream flowers in spring and early summer. In over 10 years of knowing this, I had never seen a bloom. Then, last year I was climbing out of a gorge late in the afternoon as the sky was darkening when [Patty gasp…], there it was!

I did not have a camera lens to take a clear picture close up, but I snapped a few shots and planned to return the next morning with a macro lens.

Here is what I found the following morning.

I haven’t happened upon another one since. How many other finds have I just caught or just missed?

On a different walk with Patty, we found an Indian Breadroot, a favorite of wild pigs. I had never seen one.

Unlike livestock who mow the grass, when pigs eat native plants they devour the entire root, so they may impact whether I ever see a particular plant again. We covered the breadroot in a heap of dead cedar hoping to protect its chance to go to seed. I’ll be looking for it this spring!

Time will impact my inventory too. Walking at the ranch is one of my favorite pastimes, but scouting hundreds of acres with my view to the ground will be a time commitment with limits.

And, even when I think the inventory is complete, like all learning, there will always the possibility to discover more.

What will I do with all the discoveries?

They may inform different management practices, or they may just inform what is and I’ll leave it at that.

Take Silky Bluestem…

 

Just off my bedroom porch, between the groomed yard and the left-wild acres beyond is a small patch of Silky Bluestem, a grass not found anywhere else on the ranch. In fact, of the over 27 species of bluestems found in Texas only six are non-native and Silky Bluestem is one. It hails from Australia, grows in four U.S. states, and shows up on lists of Texas invasive plants. Patty made a quick identification and said, “hmmm, you might consider getting rid of it.”

Until learning its name, here’s what I knew. I think it looks lovely — the seed heads have silky white hairs and chocolate brown awns and they flop to one side as a group all going in the same direction.

 

When the light catches the seed heads the group looks like a glowing patch of floating caterpillars.

A year ago, my niece was visiting from Colorado and her close relationship with nature inspired the blog post, As a Child. It was a post about walking “as a child does” to see — admitting all data, the beauty and the unnoticed, and more important, finding the beauty in the unnoticed.

One afternoon, Ella asked if she could use my camera to take a few pictures. A short time later, I found her at the edge of the yard lying under the Silky Bluestem

with the camera pointing toward the sky.

Her captivation with the little patch of bluestem struck me. Did she see caterpillars too?

A few days later, I smiled when downloading her pictures, seeing her perspective on the invaders.

Lovely.

Did she see the gift?

 

Hmmm, for now I think I’ll leave the Silky Bluestem.

Spring is coming soon, Patty will return, and new names will be added to the inventory.

I look forward to posting profiles of the plants and trees we find, but more important will be the questions the hunt inspires and the stories written along the search.

I hope you will keep walking with me at Take Comfort.