The Sun Will Rise and The Sun Will Set (Lessons Learned as the Seasons Change)

"Hope is being able to see that there is light despite the darkness."

~Desmond Tutu

A few days ago, I stopped by Lake Waubesa to see if the ice had melted. After an unusual, record-breaking stretch of mild weather, I knew the ice shacks would be gone. What I didn't know was that I'd have a front-row seat to a spectacular sunset.

The sky was on fire and colorful in every direction. The lake was still frozen, but showing signs of cracking and opening with the sun's unseasonable warmth.









This experience didn't impart new knowledge; rather, it prompted spiritual acceptance that the sun will always rise and will always set ... until it doesn't. I might as well enjoy moments of beauty and gifts of living on this stunning, fragile planet, as it spins through space. I'll try to do my part, as one of many stewards of its resources.

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How about you? What garden inspirations and lessons have you learned or reflected on during the past season?

Contributions from both hemispheres and all continents are welcome! To join in the "Garden Lessons Learned" meme, simply write a post or share one you've already written about lessons you've learned during the past season. Then share your links or observations in the comments on this post. This post will be available always under the "Lessons Learned" tab at the top of this blog. I'll share your posts on the PlantPostings Facebook Page closer to the equinox.

Happy spring to friends in the Northern Hemisphere, and happy autumn to those in the Southern Hemisphere!

(I'm taking a little blogging break for an exciting adventure! I'll share highlights after I return.)

Join Me in the Sunshine at the San Diego Botanic Garden

It's looking like the Midwest will have an early spring this year. However, even during a mild winter my mind tends to wander to warmer places.

Last year, in March, when we traveled to San Diego, one of my favorite destinations was the San Diego Botanic Garden, in Encinitas. As with all botanical gardens, my time there was too short. But here are a few highlights.



In the children's garden, signage and garden descriptions are friendly and informative.



This whimsical planter on a post describes the precious resource of water and how to conserve it.



Without words: sculpture illustrating the importance of pollinators.



This sign explains hummingbirds' penchant for long, tubular flowers, as the little friends circle around the nearby flowers and hide in the treetops.



The San Diego Botanic Garden provides protected habitat for Monarch caterpillars.



And a "bed and breakfast" enclosure for butterflies through all their life stages.



Many butterflies, like this Giant Swallowtail, flit and float throughout the gardens.



This "Fiddler" steel sculpture seems to come to life at the center of a mixed garden area.



Mariachis covered in succulents--perfect!



And dancers nearby--pure joy.



One area of the garden is dedicated to a tropical rain forest theme.



Including the specialized plants that inhabit rain forests.



Some epiphytes in the gardens are potted, while others perch on trees.



Likewise with plentiful succulents, like this Kiwi Aeonium, planted directly in the soil.



Others planted in pots.

And then more plants ...



Lilac Verbena (V. lilacina; syn. Glandularia lilacina), native to Baja California and Mexico.



Olulu or Cabbage on a Stick (Brighamia insignis), nearly extinct and native to the Hawaiian islands.



Coral Tree (Erythrina caffra), native to South Africa.



Long-Leafed Cycad (Encephalartos longifolius), native to South Africa.



Baja Fairy Duster (Calliandra californica), native to California.



California Brittlebush (Encelia californica), also native to California.



Blue Chalksticks (Senecio mandraliscae), native to South Africa.



Clivia (C. miniata) native to South Africa.



California Lilac (Ceanothus arboreus), native to California.



The botanical garden also has groves of Citrus, native to various Asian and Pacific locales.



And other fruits, such as Bananas (Musa acuminata), native to Southeast Asia.



One of my favorite spots: the walled garden. Secret gardens with benches always beckon.



Draping over the walled garden are giant Weeping Bottlebrush (Callistemon viminalis, syn. Melaleuca viminalis) trees.



Yummy.



While I was in this walled garden admiring these trees, hummingbirds were buzzing by. But I couldn't seem to capture them in a photo--partly because of the great camouflage of the trees.



Later, I enlarged one of the photos and found a surprise hummer. You can see how easy it is for them to hide among the leaves and flowers. :)



Bye, for now, walled garden and San Diego Botanic Garden. I hope I'll visit again before too long.

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(Note: The San Diego Botanic Garden has a substantial collection of native and xeric plants. A future post will focus more on these plants.)

It's Only a Rock Wall ... Or Is It?

Nothing exciting is happening in my garden these days ...

Wait!



Let's check out the rock wall!



Wow, this moss looks lush and vibrant, even in the middle of winter.



Up close, it resembles a thick forest landscape.



The lichens are alive and multiplying, too.



As the snow and ice retreat, their pathways and wanderings become colorful and dimensional.



Huh ... moss in a tiny "cave"; I wonder if insects or critters find refuge here?



Each rock has a unique shape, structure, and colony of life forms.



The snow wraps around like the hug of a warm blanket.



I'm curious about all the creatures, plants, and life forms that live between the rock and the snow.



Nature offers fascinating collages, draping across the rocks.



The warmth of the rock encourages Sedums to sprout early.



And Lamiums caught between a rock and a hard place can thrive even during the bitterest season.



Shaggy, dormant grasses add winter interest.



Did these tiny collections of sticks, nuts, and fruits occur only through gravity and happenstance, or did a small mammal bring them here?



Some of these spots actually look warm and comfortable. I guess the rock wall is more than simply a pile of cold, hard rock: It's a vibrant, active ecosystem!

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Update: The quality of this video is poor, but perhaps worth including with this post. It shows a Mourning Cloak butterfly checking out the rock wall (for a possible hibernation spot?) a couple of years ago:

Mourning Cloaks are among the few butterflies that overwinter as adults in cold climates. Visit Butterflies and Moths of North America to learn more about them.