Since the oaks finished flowering, I’ve been checking on the baby acorns at every opportunity. The valley oaks have the lead at this point; they will eventually be much larger than the coast live oak acorns so that’s not surprising. It’s fun to peek among the leaves and see what I can spot — not every oak produces flowers/acorns every year so it’s a bit of a treasure hunt.
I have lived within an hour’s drive of Conejo Valley Botanic Garden for decades. How is it that I never visited until the other day? What a lovely place! What other nearby natural joys am I missing out on?
It was a delight to come upon an unfamiliar, yet local, oak tree, Quercus tomentella. This species is a relict. Though it is now limited to the offshore islands, it was once widespread in mainland California, as evidenced by the many late Tertiary fossils of the species found here. The tree in the gardens is young (planted 1995). All going well, it should grow two and a half times this high. Live long and prosper, Island Oak!
Further to my post of March 29, it looks like the macadamia is pregnant!
Correction on a previous blog post, and an attempt at a comic-style nature journal page (probably only entertaining to me). A reminder that sometimes we see what we want to see.
UPDATE 5.6.23: I incorrectly showed the position of the female flowers. See this post.
It promises to be a great year for acorns around here! Most of the coast live oaks are currently sprouting thousands of yellow fingers, male flowers on their long catkins. Their female counterparts are hard to see, but if you look closely you can find them wedged in the angle between leaf and branch.
California’s oak woodlands sustain higher levels of biodiversity than virtually any other terrestrial ecosystem in the state. More than 300 species of birds, reptiles, amphibians and mammals depend on oak woodlands for food and shelter, and that doesn’t count the many hundred species of insects, spiders, mosses, lichens and fungi.
Like so many other habitats, oak woodlands are under severe threat from development and climate change. But for this year, at least, we can look forward to a healthy acorn crop. Yay!
Experimenting with stencils and mark-making, à la Esté MacLeod.
The myoporum thrips is an invasive species that’s causing a lot of damage to Myoporum laetum and M. pacificum plants in landscapes and nurseries along the California coast. We have five M. laetum trees alongside our driveway; one of them has been infested with this insect for a couple of years now.
Last year we tried introducing lacewing larvae to the tree for natural pest control, but we had storms soon afterwards and never saw evidence of adult lacewings. I’d like to try that again this year, after the winter rains are done.
The thrips can kill even well-established trees so it would be good to get them under control.
They say the best time to plant a tree is ten years ago. The second-best time, in our case, is five years ago. We’re happy to see flowers on the macadamia for the first time; here’s hoping that they pollinate successfully. We do have a lot of bees in the yard, so there’s reason to be optimistic.
The macadamia is native to rainforests in south east Queensland and northern New South Wales, Australia. (It is not native to Hawaii, as many people think.) Our variety (Cate) was developed here in Malibu, and suits a more Mediterranean climate.
Another day, another wetland, this time in the company of my rad SIL, Cass. The Maroochydore Wetlands Sanctuary at Bli Bli is, according to one of their interpretive signs, “home to 180 species of birds, 30 species of crabs, five species of mangroves, and untold species of reptiles, amphibians, insects, crustaceans, molluscs, plants and fungi.” And millions of mosquitoes. I even wore Aerogard, an exercise in futility.
I was particularly taken with the Orange Mangrove, Bruguiera gymnorhiza. It has the largest leaves of all the mangroves in the Sanctuary, bright red-orange flowers, and an interesting method of reproduction. We found a propagule that had dropped onto the boardwalk, and helpfully shot it into the mud below. According to Wikipedia, the propagules are eaten by many indigenous groups in northern Australia and southeastern Papua New Guinea, and there is also evidence of them being eaten in India, Bangladesh, and other parts of Southeast Asia.
Around here, you can’t swing a quoll (not that you would) without hitting a park or green space. Mature trees, creeks, and playgrounds abound, which provide huge quality-of-life enhancements to residents, whether they realise it or not.
Brisbane has, on average, 54 per cent green cover, though, as in most cities, affluent areas have more mature trees than poorer suburbs. (In comparison, Melbourne had just 23 per cent total tree cover in 2020, and Sydney had 34 per cent. All three cities lost green cover between 2013 and 2020.)
Needless to say, I’ve been spending time every day in the nearby green spaces, mostly just sitting and breathing it all in. Today, there was also a little sketching in a pink cafe with a fancy chandelier. It’s good to mix it up.
hashiworks 