Marxism

While in Rio de Janeiro a few weeks ago, I made a point to find a few spaces designed by Roberto Burle Marx, a very influential Brazilian modernist landscape designer, including his landscape at the Petrobras and BNDES building downtown, and Parque do Flamengo. One of his famous designs is that of the wavy sidewalk patterns on the Copacabana Beach, which was based on Portuguese pavements. Various black and white pavement patterns are now found throughout Rio.

Once again I didn't make it to his personal gardens south of Rio in Guaritiba, which is now a national historic site and apparently amazing. But I was lucky enough to have a long lunch with a woman who lives down the street from the property and who used to go to many parties and visit with Roberto.

First stop: Petrobras.

The gardens at the Petrobras are very subtle and symmetrical, almost underwhelming in a way. This is especially true because the water features have been drained to prevent mosquito breeding and disease. However, there were a few notable design elements.

The photo at the top of this post shows his pavers spaced inside of lawn. I think I learned somewhere that his use of this in designs inspired North American landscape designers to do the same. I see this all around Austin in modern landscapes.

The patio below has a wonderful pattern. Notice how none of the pavers come together to make four corners. That kind of symmetry would stop your eye and cause dissonance as you experience the pattern. We used the same design rule for our back walkway.

Here John and I are in front of a planting bed. The hill behind us is also a large Marx corporate garden at the BNDES building, which I sadly didn't get any photos of but did see a giant hummingbird with a forked tail there.

Below you can see a beautiful stone patterned patio and walkway that connects the Petrobras and BNDES buildings, with the Petrobras building on the left and the Metropolitan Cathedral on the right, evoking a Mayan pyramid.

Next stop: Parque do Flamengo.

This is one of the largest urban parks in the world, and was steps away from our apartment. It has more than 150,000 trees of 300 different species. 

I didn't take too many fotos at Flamengo, but here's one of a wavy pavement patterns specific to this park.

The same walkway with Pão de Açucar in the background.

The view from Urca which is a mountain that is halfway along the way up to Pão de Açucar. Flamengo beach and park can be seen in the middle left.

And below a couple of beautiful flowers that were blooming in Parque do Flamengo (uh, not sure why my camera decided to focus on the background instead of the foreground in that first one...dang!).

Go West!

So I realize this isn't a travel blog, but things are pretty brutal in the old home garden. So, what do we do in Austin in summer to escape the heat? Why, of course we go to the desert. Yes, it sounds crazy, but in reality there are parts of the Texas western desert region that are certifiably cooler than the rest of Texas. The Davis Mountains. The Chisos. 

And late summer is the rainy season out there, so the landscape is surprisingly green. Grasses that are stubby nothings in May, like blue grama and side-oats grama, are now fully blooming and batting their eyelashes in the breeze.

This is a beautiful white eryngo of some kind that would make a beautiful plant for a home garden. But coveting aside, it's gorgeous just the same...

The evening bloomer below smells citrusy sweet like star jasmine, and has a similar flower. I thought it might be a nicotania of some kind, but I have no idea. I do bet the hawkmoths love it.

Birds and other critters abound this time of year, and are different from the spring. Tarantulas were poking about, as were red-eyed phainopepla, grey foxes, and javelinas. Bright yellow Wilson's warblers and deep red rufous hummingbirds are already migrating back south from their northwestern homes. And big, beautifully armored grasshoppers buzzed across the landscape like black knights.

Still, there were hot spots, like down around the Mexican border along the Rio Grande.

But no bother. Awaiting us back at the campsite were cool, star-sparkling nights with heat lightening flashing like disco lights...

Ah, west Texas!

The Lost Pines

For the first time since the great fires of 2011, we ventured east to the Lost Pines and Bastrop State Park. What was once a land of towering green pines, blooming white dogwood trees, ferns and forest floors covered with pine needles is no more. This ancient grove of loblolly pines, separated far from its nearest neighbors, has been forever altered by the fires.

And though the fires were tragic, there is beauty to behold. New plants are growing forth in ground that is unencumbered by the deep shade of the acidic pines. A few woodpeckers call. Blue and red Eastern bluebirds flitted through black branches, and pine warblers snuck their way past treet trunks and falling, dead limbs.

A post-fire landscape is quite otherworldly, but also beautiful in its resilience.

Small tufts of grasses and sedges strike a surprisingly modern pose with this beautiful red plant. (I have no idea what this is. Anyone?)

It's important to wear sunny pants...

Much of the understory is laying itself out like a Piet Oudolf garden in winter, all texture and shades of tan.

Pokeweed is quite dominant, much of it with bright red stalks and drooping with berries.

Switchgrass and rattlesnake master (which I've never seen in the wild in Texas) are filling in along dry and wet streambanks, along with little bluestem and Indiangrass.

This clumping grass is beautiful, with pom-pom like tufts of grasses bursting forth from its main body. Is this a native species?

I think this is a burnt out yucca, all of its fine internal fibers exposed and waving across the ground, as if a pale haired Tolkien elf suddenly vanished into the ground, leaving behind its hair.

The beautiful golden wood from an oak tree whose bark had been peeled away by the charring fire.

And meadows of grasses now growing where none grew before...

The Desert Mind

It was high time, frankly, to leave the confines of Sprawlstin behind for a few days of the crisp, minimalist West Texas desert. Just beyond Dripping Springs headed west, I can feel the city and its suburbs and strip malls slough off. The lightness of being begins around there. But it's way out in the Chihuahuan Desert, with it's open space, the smell of creosote bush, the marauding storms that echo through the valleys, that I begin to feel most at ease.

When in need, we like to head to the Davis Mountains. It's inspiring. It's calming. It's raw. And it's full of great and subtle beauty.

The mountains and valleys are recovering quite gracefully from last year's fires. Smooth sotol and Spanish dagger hold forth. Cholla cactus blooms.

And the birds are gangbusters. Among some unidentified, we saw:

Montezuma quail
Scaled quail
Vermillion flycatcher
Ash-throated flycatcher
Bewick's wren
Black-chinned hummingbird
Blue grosbeak
Black-headed grosbeak
Brown (Canyon) towhee
Summer tanager
Black-crested tufted titmouse
Phainopepla
Acorn woodpecker
Scrub jay
And more...

The old fort is worth a visit, especially when coming down from the mountain on the hike over from the state park.

Pit Stop Prairie

On our summer prairie tour, we discovered many restoration projects at rest areas.

Unbeknownst to Bodi, he is happily sitting there picking up hitchhiker ticks. Fun for us.

Retama at Balmorhea

Retama branches stretch beside the cute hacienda-style rooms at Balmorhea State Park, Texas. Too bad those fireplaces don't work any more...

Sunset Over the Davis Mountains

Monarch Migration in West Texas

The monarch butterflies were on the move this past weekend (Oct 8-9, 2011) across Texas. It was everything we could do to not kill hundreds of them as they flitted southward to Mexico and we sped down I-10 to Balmorhea State Park. (It's really tragic to kill such a beautiful creature that has been flying so hard and so long across the vast plains of this country, trying its best to get to Mexico.)

When we arrived, we found ourselves in a magical enchanted land, with thousands of monarchs flying all around us, finding roosts in the trees of the state park on a windy West Texas day.

Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve

The tallgrass prairie is a highly overlooked and important ecosystem that quickly fell prey to the plow despite its significant role in our continent's ecology. The prairie once spread from Canada to Texas, and though the plant and animal species composition changes across such a huge north-south range, there are many species that occur commonly. From Texas to Wisconsin, you can find little bluestem, big bluestem, Indian grass, switchgrass, beebalm, black-eyed susans, butterfly weed and much more. The prairie is (or was) home to a beautiful array of plant and animal species.

When Lewis and Clark ventured forth into the once prairies, they came across sights that are almost impossible to imagine today: rumbling herds of thousands upon thousands of bison rolling across the Missouri prairies with wolf packs nipping at their heels. Mountain lions and grizzly bears slinked through the shoulder high grasses and forbes. (Those two predators seem to us like mountain species only because we have forced them to retreat to those higher, more untouched ecosystems.)

Sadly, you can't find very many true prairies in the wild. What once covered more than 140 million acres of the United States is now less than 4% of its original area. Most commonly, you can stumble across small remnants along roadsides, in cemeteries and on land that wasn't good for agriculture.

It's that last reason that we can thank for the existence of the Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, which is a 10,000-plus acre piece of prairie in the Flint Hills of Kansas outside of Strong City.

During a recent visit, the prairie was very much in its mid-summer dormant phase, transitioning from shorter spring bloomers to taller fall plants, like the tall grasses and asters. It was 100 degrees.

Still, we found a few things blooming - or just finished blooming - and the skies were wide open.

Hoary vervain (Verbena stricta)

Purple prairie clover (Dalea pupurea var. purpurea) (Just finishing blooming)

Leadplant (Amorpha canescens) (Just finished blooming)

Beebalm (Monarda fistulosa)

Butterflyweed (Asclepius tuberosa)

I would love to come back to this prairie in the spring or fall to watch the real show, and to have more time to hike further into the backcountry to see the bison. The prairie is a real treat - it takes time for the eyes and mind to refocus and truly appreciate its beauty.