I have seen the best plants of my eco-region driven into ghettos of greenbelts, invaded by non-native plants, poisoned with herbicides…

I see public areas, along roadways and in park areas, mowed so low that the grass is turning brown and burnt by the sun, despite sprinklers and watering, and occasional rains brought on from sub-tropical weather disturbances in the Gulf of Mexico.

I see the berm behind my house, where a stand of wildflowers in bloom had been cut down in late May while the ground was still wet, and where the native Silver Bluestem grass, which had once dominated the berm, had returned, mowed down in late July, parched and sere under the August sun. Because the contracts signed say they have to mow a certain number of times within certain calendar limits.

I have written emails to my HOA and the Municipal Utility District, and received no response. If a tree falls in the forest, or a native plant goes extinct or disappears from a region because of destruction of habitat, does it make a sound if there are no humans to hear it cry out?

And yet, life goes on.

I have seen the Clematis drummondii, with their achenes in showy white plumes, and must make a note to get out of the house for a photo safari soon, while this year’s show is still on. I have seen the Passiflora  vines and the Gulf Fritillary butterflies in their back and forth movements between fertilization, egg-laying, larvae consuming the plant, and adult butterflies dancing about. I have seen the native plants in my yard, both those intentionally planted, and those volunteers who have been recognized and protected, thrive or at least survive.

And I have seen the birds drinking from the water fountain, having been provided with plants that provide food (and insects that thrive and provide food as well), shelter, and a place to build their homes. I have seen the hummingbirds zooming about, grabbing sips of nectar from the salvias, the Texas Red Mallows, and the Flame Acanthus (though this year, I’m afraid I haven’t quick enough to focus and click on the camera quickly enough to capture one in mid-flight.

And as the globe warms, I wonder what changes I’ll be seeing in the plants that thrive in this area, and whether enough humans will start to think outside the box of “that’s the way we’ve always done it,” or “that’s the I’ve always heard it should be,” to make a dent in the greenhouse we are living in.

But enough of that. Time for some photos – some OK, some not so great, but the subject matter supersedes this one’s talents: