The Desert Mallow is tentatively blooming. Most of the buds are still tightly furled, but a few brave buds have burst open in all their orange glory. This is a wild flower here in Northern Nevada, although this one has decided to become a permanent resident of my herb bed. I thought they re-seeded every year, but, apparently, given water and food, they can become a perennial. I wish they smelled as pretty as their little one inch blooms look, but, alas, they pretty much stink. But the bugs love them, and when the winds are calm, bees, flies, and wasps of all kinds flock to these flowers in droves. If there are any volunteers this year, I should plant them where I would like to grow squash. So far, to get any fruit set, I've had to hand pollinate both zukes and yellow squash.
Hand pollinating can be relaxing and enjoyable, but sometimes, I'd just rather have Mother Nature take care of it. This second photo depicts some of the still tightly curled Desert Mallow buds. In a few more weeks, there could be hundreds of bright orange flowers - but for the moment, there are less than a dozen of them.
Other plants that are growing and even blooming, in spite of a long, cold, dreary spring include my upright rosemary and the tough as nails bearded irises. Herbs are also doing well - especially the oregano, its cousin, sweet marjoram, and the lemon balm. The lemon balm enjoys this weather so much that many seeds from last year have germinated and are working on their first and second set of leaves.
Although the apple trees survived our extra brutal winter this year, only the two Fuji's bloomed with any vigor. The Gala had less than one dozen flowers. Since the Gala is the cross-pollinator for the Fuji's, and visa versa, there chances are pretty slim that we will have apples this year. Add to the fact that they bloomed during a cold, windy week at the beginning of May when the bees were still sleepy means the chances are really about none. Inspection of the trees confirm this. At least the three young trees seem to have survived the winter. The old tree of unknown parentage that my husband saved from the house-builder's bulldozer, however, does not look like it will survive this brutal spring season. I continue to water her as if she were going to live - but if not, then this summer she will become something else. I recently saw a book on wooden buttons. Maybe some of her branches will be reincarnated that way. And her gnarled trunk might warm our house as firewood. And, of course, I have my photos of her. But for now, I encourage her with water, food and words.
