in bloom this week: agarita

We have only one agarita--Mahonia trifoliolata, "trifolata" for reasons you can clearly see in the photograph. Yes, I know, they do look like holly leaves, don't they? And the plant produces a small, scarlet berry that looks like a holly berry, as well, except that it ripens in the summer. The berries are tart-sweet and delicious in jelly, or so I'm told. Our single 4' x 4' shrub has never produced enough to make jelly with, so I leave them for the birds and the coons, who clean them out as soon as they're ripe.

In one or two of the China novels, I've described the way the berries are gathered: by spreading a cloth on the ground under the bush and giving the branches a sound thwacking. The reason for what might strike you as severe maltreatment is obvious, too, if you will take another close look at the leaves. The points on this little guys are stiff and needle-sharp, and a close encounter is painful. Which makes the agarita a good barrier shrub, in case you want to keep your neighbor's rug rats out of your yard. It's native to Central Texas, west to Arizona and south to Northern Mexico.

As a gardener, I am glad for plants like the agarita, who know their place and thrive in it without any special care from me. The birds planted this shrub beside the drive, and all I've ever done is trim away a few dead branches, admire the tiny yellow flowers, and appreciate its contribution to the health and well-being of our population of birds and small mammals. In fact, over the years, I've abandoned the exotic primadonna plants that sulk if they're neglected for more than a day or two. My garden is full of natives like the agarita, suited to the tough life, up to the daily challenge of making a living on this small patch of hot, dry, limestone soil they call home.

Reading Note, from Barbara Kingsolver's Small Wonder:

Whether we are leaving it or coming into it, it's here that matters, it is place. Whether we understand where we are or don't, that is the story: To be here or not to be.... Among the greatest of all gifts is to know our place.