The wildflowers have arrived and are spectacular this year. Decorating the highways, they add a sense of wonder to driving.
But one of the best places to enjoy wildflowers is a rural cemetery. You don’t have to worry about getting run down when you step out of the car. It’s also so peaceful and quiet.
Indian Paintbrushes (Castilleja) bloom a little earlier than Bluebonnets (Lupinus texensis) but they remain side by side for many days. There are actually several different varieties of both Paintbrushes and Bluebonnets.
Wildflowers are not known for their scent, but a wonderful aroma surrounded us when we stepped out of the vehicle. Wasn’t able to determine which ones provided the smell.
The older headstones were fascinating.
Think these are Prairie Phlox (Phlox pilosa). Little clusters were scattered here and there.
The scenery around the cemetery was serene.
Pink was the dominant color here.
White Prickly Poppies form large colonies that are visible from a distance.
The wind was so strong, their delicate petals were brown in one direction.
In front of this handmade headstone is a weed I couldn’t identify. All the weeds were lovely in this setting because none were prickly and seemed at home.
Dotted Blue-Eyed Grass (Sisyrinchiurn pruinosuem) makes me wonder how it got that common name. The eye is yellow, so it’s doesn’t seem logical.
Found some headstones with my maiden name. Have no idea if they were related to me.
Notice the fake flowers beside the marker. That’s very common in Texas because most of the year, there are no native flowers or even foliage in the long hot summers.
I was curious what this growth on the stone is. Some kind of fungus but this was the only stone I saw it on.
There are a number of low growing native white daisies or asters. Don’t know which one this is.
A thick carpet is formed by this unknown native. It’s definitely not a plant for your yard unless you intentionally want a covering of this instead of grass. It spreads by runners and seems prolific.
“Do you love life? Then do not squander time, for that’s the stuff life is made of.” Benjamin Franklin