Nature’s Trick, My Treat

American White Water Lily ~ Nymphaea odorata

On Sunday, I made a quick trip to the Attwater Prairie Chicken Refuge, about a hundred miles northwest of home. I hoped to find some Maximilian sunflowers along the way, but I hadn’t visited the refuge in months, and was generally interested to see how it looked, post-drought.

Short on time, I didn’t take the entire auto loop through the refuge, but I did hike up to its little lake: a spot that often hosts a variety of birds and is surrounded in season by a variety of wildflowers. My most unexpected find was three water lilies floating on its water: the first that I’d seen this year.

In wetter years, water lilies abound in our ponds and ditches, but thanks to the drought, many of those spots went dry early and no water lilies bloomed. Finding my first on October 29, near the end of their usual season, both amused and pleased me. Given some water, nature had pulled off a delightful trick: one that became my near-Halloween treat.

 

Comments always are welcome.

Pond Lights

 

Every year
the lilies
are so perfect
I can hardly believe
their lapped light crowding
the black,
mid-summer ponds.
Nobody could count all of them—
the muskrats swimming
among the pads and the grasses
can reach out
their muscular arms and touch
only so many, they are that
rife and wild.
But what in this world
is perfect?

I bend closer and see
how this one is clearly lopsided—
and that one wears an orange blight—
and this one is a glossy cheek
half nibbled away—
and that one is a slumped purse
full of its own
unstoppable decay.
Still, what I want in my life
is to be willing
to be dazzled—
to cast aside the weight of facts
and maybe even
to float a little
above this difficult world.
I want to believe I am looking
into the white fire of a great mystery.

I want to believe that the imperfections are nothing—
that the light is everything—that it is more than the sum
of each flawed blossom rising and falling. And I do.
                                                                  “The Pond” ~ Mary Oliver

 

Comments always are welcome.
The water lilies, Nymphaea elegans, were photographed at various ponds in Brazoria County.

Summer, Rising

White water lily ~ Nymphaea odorata

Today, rising creeks and rivers are afflicting some parts of our state, but soon enough the rains will depart and summer will arrive: its rising heat and humidity making February’s freeze seem even more improbable.

A different sort of rising is taking place in area freshwater ponds and lakes. This weekend, I found three species of native water lily thriving at the Brazoria Wildlife Refuge. Michael Eason describes the white water lily shown above, Nymphaea odorata, as the most freeze-tolerant of our native species.

Lampazo amarillo, or yellow water lily ~ Nymphaea mexicana

On the other hand, the yellow water lilies also seem to have prospered through the winter months; a dozen or so already were in bloom.

Tropical water lily ~Nymphaea elegans    

The tropical water lily doesn’t float on the water’s surface, but rises above it on peduncles, or stems, several inches in length. Its sepals are marked with the same colors as its leaves, which are purple on the bottom and green above.

The genesis of one common name for Nymphaea odorata, ‘alligator bonnet,’ is easy to understand. Innumerable alligators, both young and old, were cruising among these flowers; its easy to imagine one of the creatures rising to the surface, flower-bedecked and smiling.

 

Comments always are welcome.

A Different Amarillo

 Mexican water lily ~ Nymphaea mexicana

 

Texas is home to four native species of water lily. Nymphaea ampla, though common in Mexico and the Caribbean, is quite rare, while N. odorata, a white lily that floats on the water’s surface, and N. elegans, the so-called blue water lily, are relatively common.

Our fourth lily is uncommon enough that I’d never seen one until I discovered a pair blooming in a pond at the Brazoria Wildlife Refuge. The Spanish name for Nymphaea mexicana — lampazo amarillo, or yellow water lily — brings to mind the well-known Texas city. According to the Texas State Historical Association:

The settlement was originally called Oneida but was by majority consent renamed Amarillo after the nearby lake and creek. These natural features had been named by New Mexican traders and pastores, probably for the yellow soil along the creek banks or the yellow wildflowers that were abundant during the spring and summer.
Charles F. Rudolph, editor of the Tascosa Pioneer, blamed the [Fort Worth and Denver City Railway] employees for ignoring the word’s Spanish pronunciation; in 1888 he prophetically stated, “Never again will it be Ah-mah-ree-yoh.” Most of the town’s first houses were painted yellow in commemoration of the name change.

Unfortunately, when the Texas Legislature designated an official state water lily in 2011, it chose a cross between Nymphaea mexicana and another cultivar known as Nymphaea ‘Pink Starlet’ rather than one of our natives. Nymphaea ‘Texas Dawn,’ created by Ken Landon in 1985, is a lovely flower, but like the designation of the crape myrtle as our official state shrub, its selection clearly was influenced by factors other than its inherent beauty.

No matter. Lampazo amarillo will be blooming by morning, and it’s that amarillo that’s on my mind.

 

Comments always are welcome.