Ludwigia octovalvis – Mexican Primrose Willow

Mama Burd (my mom) has flown to Kentucky to be closer to the mountains and my little sis and begin anew. After the loss of dad in January 2025 and then the loss of their home to the floods of July 4, 2025 it was time for a change. She’s been there not even a week yet and I’d promised to continue my work of recognizing native plants on the acreage and documenting them.

First up is a new discovery, a plant I hadn’t hear of yet. The Mexican Primrose Willow. I discovered the pretty little greenery several weeks ago as it began to grow and after identifying it have been waiting for blooms to post. They bloom July through October so I’m super excited to see more of the pretty yellow flowers to appear.

They are so delightfully simple and remind me of the drawings of Tudor roses in England.

Although they’ve four petals to the rose’s five they still bring to mind English summers. Gads I miss it there.

Growing along the river banks.

They’re coming up next to a willow who chose to grow here this year. This willow is almost smack dab where the pecan tree used to overhang the water, and I’m hoping it’ll grow similarly just branching out and shading the creek in the hottest days. If you zoom in you can see the plethora of yellow blooms.

From the Texas Natural Gardner website we learn:

Blooms July-October. Ribbed stems are erect and branched, sometimes woody at the base. Leaves are lance-shaped to ovate, with sunken venation and a reddish to pale midrib. Bright yellow, solitary flowers arise from leaf axils. They close in the evening and reopen in the morning. The fruit is a capsule that opens irregularly. Larval host: Water-primrose Hornworm Moth.

Which looks like:

It’s pink!!

I haven’t seen any yet but am ecstatic about providing a habitat for them to visit and grow and make babies!

There are still towering ragweeds by the waters edge that I’ve allowed to grow because either they’re super hard to reach or they are growing where I wanted the soil to be held in place. I plan on taking them down an evening this week as they take up so much space they crowd out the good natives.

Apparently the primrose willow can proliferate but only grow to 3-6 feet wide/high. They should be easy to manage and if I can get them all along the banks they’ll provide good cover for other critters as well and help crowd out the baddie plants I don’t want here. Can you IMAGINE the dark foliage and yellow blooms along the water under a tall elegant willow tree? Heaven.

Also the ducks have multiplied, Madame Muscovy had babies and brought along a white domesticated friend. They come to my call now and don’t startle around Bunny which is lovely as she wouldn’t hurt them anyway.

Traditionally Mexican Primrose-willow has been used to treat skin diseases, diarrhea and flatulence. In fact, a 2012 paper by Yakob et al in World Applied Sciences Journal 16 (1): 22-29 suggested the use of Mexican Primrose-willow as an antioxidant as well as a treatment for diseases caused by E. coli.

Definitely a plant I’m happy to have here and encourage to find little spots to grow!

Wake Up

How has it been so long? I didn’t forget about this blog, not in the least, rather, so very much has happened. I took to updating my stories on IG instead of the blog after Dad was gone. Four months after his death in January 2025 their property was hit without mercy by the torrential rains and land-changing floods in July. Perhaps it is time to start reliving it a bit, to document it better here. And almost a year later.

Right now I sit in the cottage that used to be the rental house on the property, tenant and all. Mom’s house is gone, as are her raised bed gardens she built, the pear and plum trees, the vineyard, and all her landscaping in the front yard that she painstakingly put in for the past 25 years.

The flood stole it all away July 4th-5th night last year. It took hundreds of saplings and established trees, carved at the riverside, and deposited hundreds of tons of boulders and caliche mix from upriver. The wall of water reached easily over 25 feet high on the property, evidenced by debris that still sits and waves in the branches of the trees left behind. Dad’s tools and shop were swept away as well, the only things left were the roof balanced on the joists well enough we could prop them up, and what tools we could find in the resulting mud. Most is buried and I will never see it again.

Two homes and the residents inside as well as their vehicles were swept across the street and rammed with immense force into mom’s house, which destroyed it and the shop. Mom and I escaped with our critters and our vehicles and go bags, but we knew nothing of what was lost until the sun rose the next morning.

I promise, I will tell the story once again. All of them, in fact. What my brain can remember, anyway.

Sitting now watching it rain outside the land has changed, and I hope so very much that it can change hands into my own. I never thought I’d have the chance to own this place, but here it is, and I want to grasp it and grow with it as it enters a new era. Mom is ready for her new life, and I am ready for mine.

Walk to Dad’s Shop

I’m working in my dad’s old shop, on my folk’s property with the trees that I’ve loved for more than half my life ❤️

My dad, the trees I belong to, they’re all here.

You said today that there is a new energy to my art,

But familiar.

And I knew instantly it was Dad you feel.

Every time I walk in the shop. Every time. I smell him and breathe deeply, trying to draw the smell of a machine shop and sweat and concrete deep within my very marrow.

I feel him like the trees outside. They who nod as I pass, singing them good morning with the sunrise.

I feel him there too, as I creak open the door, he is nodding at me from across the shop as he turns back to what he was working on.

Like so many times before.

In parallel universes now perhaps, he and I, circling one another.

Claiming a corner with our tools, both dancing to Jimmy Buffett on the radio.

It is quieter now,

But the walls will shout his intensity with pictures and airplane parts coated in sawdust.

And I will create, I will singe my very soul into every piece I touch because I’m surrounded by so much love that sometimes I think I will burst from aching and pining so deeply yet living so much joy

Every day

That I can walk to Dad’s shop.

Heartbeat

I keep thinking of when mom asked me to come check on him, that she thought he just died. I was working at home, but ran over next door.

He was so still in bed, his cheeks turning sallow already, and I just leaned over with my chest to his and listened to see if I could hear anything. There was no sound of breathing or heartbeat, and I kept desperately changing positions to try to listen at a different angle. But nothing.

I began to cry, trying to find any sounds. Then gave up, kept my head there and cried quietly, telling those around me that I couldn’t hear anything.

His face was so relaxed, he didn’t hurt or struggle, he just fell asleep. And I sobbed knowing I couldn’t hear his voice rumbling deep in his chest again.

Sleeping

He’s been doing nothing but sleeping since we had to start him on morphine yesterday. Hasn’t woken up or said any words. I don’t think he will wake again.

I still rub his head with the coconut lotion and dab a little on his nose. He doesn’t wake but he grins and relaxes. Mom tried getting him alert in the morning but he didn’t open his eyes or say anything back.

His feet are puffy and red, he’s not drinking water, but his breathing is constant and steady. He goes to his in home care on Weds but I don’t know if he will be here still by then.

Found a song I want to dance fire to. It popped up on Spotify while I was sanding in the shop, tracks wet through the sawdust on my cheeks.

Confusion

He’s not able to walk to the bathroom today it seems. Waking confused and needing an explanation for what’s going on. Feet are puffy and sore, I keep on with the massages but he seems he has pins and needles in his toes, so I’m much more careful with softer touches.

Dad was supposed to go into his home this weekend but they can’t take him until Thursday. I don’t know if he will make it till then to be honest.

His brother Steve is here until Monday to spend time with him and he’s helped so much already. It’s just nice to have his super calm energy here. Out of the four brothers his is the gentlest heart, though his brother Matt is close behind.

My sister is flying down next week, but will drive down in an instant from Kentucky if we think he’s going.

Today I finished sanding mom’s custom mini bat, and hung it to dry. The resin has copper dust to add some weight, another layer of light blue, and some green powder sprinkling of stars. Working in the shop and dancing to music is a relief, just getting out and moving helps so much.

Fairness

There really is none at time of quick decline. You get a good day and hope the next is too, feel you’ve earned it with a few bad ones.

Where he was walking two weeks ago without too much trouble now he is barely able to make it to the bathroom.

Each time he sits we wonder if this will be the time he can’t get up again.

Spent the past three nights over at their place as he’s gotten to where he wants to get up a few times a night. He was doing that pretty regularly but in the past three nights he’s stopped getting up as often.

Feels like just days ago Mom would catch him getting a “sippy” (shot glass) of scotch at 2am or even 9am. No harm in that, not like the booze would kill him. He’d open cookies or snacks at the kitchen counter, spilling cheerios and milk on the floors. Pain in the ass to clean up but now I miss the messes as he’s simply not capable of doing any of those things anymore.

He’s started in the past two days being much less comprehensible, coughing more, and today is seeing people in the room with him. Mom and I know it’s close, but we don’t know how close of course. Could be days or weeks, it’s impossible to tell.

His body is simply getting tired. It reminds me of the scene in Lord of the Rings when Theoden is old and weak. We can see him in there, under the sallow skin and weepy eyes. He’s just not as present as he used to be.

It feels like his mind is elsewhere but his body is keeping him rooted to the ground.

I still rub his head with coconut lotion because he’s a Parrot Head and it makes him think of the beach. Every day he leans his head back and soaks in my touch. Lately it’s been freezing hard here in central Texas and my fingers have been cold, and he gets a quick shiver. But they warm quickly, then I do his feet and calves and shins with some aloe vera lotion, put his socks on, and watch him doze off with a grin on his face. Unless his feet hurt that day, they’re swollen and puffy and he gets nerve pain now in his toes.

I’ve been working in his shop, cleaned out a little corner to set up my gear and speaker for music. I turn on the fire-spinning playlist I made for last year and add new songs to my 2025 list. I dance and sand wood pieces I’m working on and look at the walls around me, hung from floor to ceiling with tools, airplane parts, car parts. My shop will forever more have airplane parts tucked away in corners.

I will hear his voice singing along with Jimmy Buffett each time I first open the door.

“Mother, mother ocean,

I have heard your call,

Been wanting to sail

Upon your waters

Since I was three feet tall…”

Goodbyes

I’ve not much in me to write. Today I work from my folk’s place as I insist that mom take time away from home. She is out for the day and I’ve stayed with pops, working in the back office. Today he hasn’t gotten up or stayed awake all day, been snoozing. Hasn’t touched his coffee or water or eaten, which is unlike him. He’s always loved his food!

I’ve let him rest but did wake him a few hours ago to say hi and ask if I can bring him anything. He didn’t wake very much, and said he didn’t need anything, and quickly fell back to sleep.

Yesterday he had three meals as well as snacks. Today he sleeps.

Don’t blame him really. His brother and son came to visit for several days last week and it was rough. Mom said the goodbyes were hard, I’m really glad I wasn’t here to see them. I would have lost it.

This is the last time they will see him living, and their visit felt like mourning far too early.

Good days and bad days, for him, for us, it’s a waiting game and just trying to keep him happy. He was grumpy this weekend because he had a hard time communicating, and his walking has declined dramatically. Muscle control is just getting harder and harder. His legs tremble as he walks, making it hard to walk. As he struggles to lift his leg to move forward the other one bearing the weight of him shakes. I don’t want to embarrass him so I try not to watch.

There is a weight in me that is waiting. The edge of it nudges from time to time like the shoulder of an unwelcome stranger on the subway. I stay busy because I am my father’s daughter and it’s how I stay sane.

Head rubs

Mom very understandably needs time away from the house (and I support it), so on days when she has Pilates I am going to their place to check on dad. Work breaks allow for it as I work from home thankfully.

When she went today I walked over during lunch to check on dad, and he was at the table enjoying pie and a tall glass of milk. Yummy cherry pie, he sat spooning it up from the container, listening to the radio. I went over to rub his shoulders and neck a bit as I used to when I was a child. He loved it so much when I was growing up that I’d happily spend a few mins each day just rubbing or walking on his back. In passing I’d squeeze his shoulders to wordlessly send love directly into his skin. Thanks to mom and dad I always was an affectionate kid. Hugs and cuddles, little hip bumps while cooking in the kitchen, saying that the room was full of “hippies”. Bad joke but still makes me giggle.

We’d go to Mazzio’s pizzeria after church meetings on Sundays, adults sat around a big table together and us kids at a separate one. At some point the kids would wander off to the arcade and I’d go but get bored so always came back to the interesting grown-up conversations. There would be a handful or two of adults chatting about whatever and I’d start with mom or dad and go around the table, just listening and rubbing shoulders. Everyone was used to it, and I loved being able to sneak into their world a little bit.

Then I got married to someone who didn’t want to touch me. Refused to try, for I needed it so much I complained about it constantly. And he didn’t take me seriously. I had to grow cold to survive. To retrain myself suddenly to not need the touch I was formed by.

I’ve had the most complicated relationship with touch for 20+ years now and haven’t been able to find a way to heal it. I shy from it, because it’s so INTENSE to me.

I didn’t think of these things when I was rubbing his shoulders today, then his neck, and his scalp. He had the most beautiful hair, but this last round of radiation knocked it out. His scalp hasn’t adjusted yet and is really dry, so I went to grab some of mom’s moisturizer and rubbed it onto the skin. It was almost luxurious to be able to feel his scalp go from dry to smooth and as my fingers went over his head I watched them trace the scars from his surgeries. He’s had a hard time verbalizing but was able to turn and tell me that if he was a kitten he’d be purring. I giggled and wondered how long he’d been thinking it before he was able to get his mouth to say it. I told him I’d see him later and I had to get back to work, and to let me know if he needed anything at all. He smiled and poured himself another tall glass of milk and kept eating his cherry pie.

In talking to mom today she thanked me for rubbing his head and shoulders, she knows he needs the physical touch. And of course I told her it was good for me too, which it is.

Then it hit me. That he can gift me this before he goes. To teach me once again as I was taught as a kiddo that touch is a beautiful thing. That it’s not awful anymore, that it doesn’t have to be painful. That it can in fact soothe someone, and it can soothe me at the same time.

It has been so long. And this is the best lesson and the greatest comfort. He will be getting ALL the lovely head rubs, as long as he wants them.