California Poppies
Gilbert: I just wanted to say that I'm a nerd, and I'm here tonight to stand up for the rights of other nerds. I mean uh, all our lives we've been laughed at and made to feel inferior. And tonight, those bastards, they trashed our house. Why? Cause we're smart? Cause we look different? Well, we're not. I'm a nerd, and uh, I'm pretty proud of it.
Lewis: Hi, Gilbert. I'm a nerd too. I just found that out tonight. We have news for the beautiful people. There's a lot more of us than there are of you. I know there's alumni here tonight. When you went to Adams you might've been called a spazz, or a dork, or a geek. Any of you that have ever felt stepped on, left out, picked on, put down, whether you think you're a nerd or not, why don't you just come down here and join us. Okay? Come on.
Gilbert: Join us cause uh, no one's gonna really be free until nerd persecution ends.
~Revenge of the Nerds (1984)
I remember the first time it dawned on me just how much I was missing when I began moving across the land on a bicycle instead of in an automobile. At 60 miles per hour, you see the forest but you miss the trees. On a bike, time slows down and space constricts revealing surprising and wonderful details about the landscape that otherwise would go unnoticed. Getting out of the car and onto a bike is like stepping up to an image that from afar looks like the Mona Lisa, but upon closer scrutiny reveals that is actually a mosaic of a thousand miniature images of George W. Bush.
That effect and realization were amplified when I climbed off the bike and started exploring my surroundings as my creator (whoever and/or whatever that might be) intended: on two feet. Crawling slowly across the land like an insect instead of rolling over it on two wheels, I was able to see and hear slices of life and evidence of the geologic and historical past that I’d completely missed before. The shed skin of a rattlesnake. Camouflaged scorpions the color of dirt. Fossils of ancient sea creatures embedded in sedimentary rock. A tarantula hawk dragging a tarantula carcass to its nest. A fox slipping silently into the trail side brush.
From another perspective, my understanding and appreciation of the local biota also came into sharper focus after I began my campaign of botanical disobedience. I suddenly noticed the incredible richness, diversity, and vibrancy of the plant community that makes up the chaparral ecosystem. Far from being uniformly dull, dry, prickly, and generally brown, I discovered that this native plant community is colorful, vibrant, varied, and incredibly compelling. Fascinated by this realization, I embraced my inner nerd and began in earnest trying to identify some of the plant life I was seeing. Beyond wanting to understand something about the land that I use with a high degree of frequency, I wanted to know who the interlopers were. I wanted to know who belonged and who didn’t.
So I started taking photographs of interesting or beautiful plants I was seeing. Then I’d come home and scour the Calflora website in hopes of making an identification. It’s not as easy as I thought. There’s a bazillion plant species that grow in Southern California and subtle differences in color, flower size, flower shape, leave configuration, elevation, and geographic location can make a definitive identification challenging. Then of course there are sub-species that look exactly alike which adds to the complexity of the whole affair. Finally, the pictures posted online never look exactly like the plant I’m looking at. Either the color is off or the angle is weird or the lighting is different or the perspective is dissimilar or the photograph was taken during a different season or whatever. So there’s always a margin for identification error.
Heading into mid-summer, I would have thought that the blooming season was pretty much over. But despite the lack of moisture, there’s actually still a lot going on out there. If you look, you’ll see that the hills are still dotted with yellow and red and orange and purple and and pink and white and green. Below are examples of a few of the natives that I’ve come across recently. Yeah, I’m a nerd, and uh, I’m pretty proud of it.
The beautiful and delicate Plummer’s Mariposa Lily is both native and endemic to California. It effectively exists only in 5 counties in Southern California: Ventura, Los Angeles, San Bernardino, Riverside, and Orange. Calflora categorizes it as rare on account of its limited range. If you live in one of those counties, go see it now. It’s going off.
Soap Plant or Soaproot is a perennial herb native to California. It is not endemic to California, but its range doesn't extend far beyond the Golden State's borders. You'll know this plant by its spindly appearance and startling white flowers. The native Chumash peoples used this plant to make soap and brushes. They also stirred crushed bulbs of this plant into pools which stupefied fish that then floated to the surface.
Narrow-leaved Milkweed is probably the single-most important plant for Monarch butterflies. The plant plays host to Monarch larva which consume the plant before they pupate. Narrow-leaved Milkweed is native to California, but not endemic, although its range is limited to the western United States.
Also known as Prostrate Spurge, Smallseed Sandmat is an odd little plant with an ugly name, but beautiful white flowers and vibrant green leaves. The plant, which oozes a sticky white substance, likes dry and/or sandy areas. Native peoples apparently applied the plant to scorpion and snake bites and chewed its roots to promote vomiting, to loosen bowels, and for stomach troubles. Smallseed Sandmat is native, but not endemic to California.
Another native to California, the Chaparral Bush Mallow is a shrub commonly found in the chaparral ecosystem. It has violet, cup-shaped flowers and irregular green leaves. Chaparral Bush Mallow is not endemic to California, but one variation (nesioticus) is a rare plant that is endemic to Santa Cruz Island and is federally listed as an endangered species because only approximate 120 individual plants remain.
Known by its alternate name, Slender Tarweed, this ubiquitous annual herb is native to California, although not endemic. Often found in dense populations, this sun-loving plant is one of several that gives the Southern California hills their golden hue. From an ethnobotanic standpoint, tarweed was used by the native peoples of Santa Barbara, Ventura, and Santa Ynez to make pinole, one of their staple foods. Tarweed roots were also eaten by the Miwok who considered it an important part of their diet.
This is one of my absolute favorite plants. It's so distinctive, and weird, and chalky. Aptly named for its coating of powdery surface wax that reflects light and acts as a water repellent, this California native is typically found growing on steep, rocky slopes where fog is common. You can find the Chalk Dudleya outside of California, but it is confined to Western North America. Sorry East-coasters.
This is another odd, but interesting plant. Rub it's hairy leaves between your fingers and then smell them. Gross! A member of the mint family that also goes by the name terpentine weed and camphor weed, this plant's name derives from the strong vinegar-like odor it emits. The unpleasant smell is propionic acid, a phytotoxin that the plant releases to kill or injure competing plant species. This bad-smelling boy is native to California, but not endemic. But if you want stinky fingers, you'll have to travel to western North America because is isn't found beyond there.
When we were kids, we used to say "first the worst, second the same, last the best of all the game." We said that when we got chosen last for whatever activity we were doing to convince ourselves we weren't total losers. Of course, it wasn't true in those instances...we were total losers. But in this case, that is certainly not the case. The stunningly gorgeous Humbodlt Lily is indeed "best of all the game." I've always called these beauties "Tiger Lilies," but I've discovered just recently (with a nudge from a couple of knowledgeable Instagramers) that the "Tiger Lily" is a distinct species of lily (there are actually two tiger lily species, the California Tiger Lily and the Sierra Tiger Lily). This native and endemic to California, which is loved by hummingbirds and swallowtail butterflies, is categorized by Calflora as rare based upon it's limited geographic distribution.
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