Roadtrip East: Oklahoma

It’s funny how memories from years ago fade in accuracy, yet they suddenly come alive with a renewed perspective. Even though I tend to remember so much.

It was my first homecoming football game at my alma mater in 31 years.

Las Cruces to Norman OK, around town and then back, is a long drive! You’ll see the scenery and plants change, as the climate and even soils, change.

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From the Chihuahuan Desert around White Sands and east of Tularosa, to the Sacramento Mountains before Ruidoso, it changes fast on the almost 4000 foot climb.

I could live right there.

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Not far east of Ruidoso NM, tall ponderosa pines thin out to Juniperus monosperma, Pinus edulis, and Nolina greenei.

Then the riparian belt along one of the most beautiful spots in New Mexico, the Hondo Valley. Home to a few ranches and small farms, plus the Rinconada-Hurd Gallery. Those folks are connected to the Wyeths, I seem to recall.

“There’s a farmer in the valley, he’s as happy as can be
A pretty, dark-eyed señorita, works besides him in their fields…” – Flying J Wranglers

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Several more bends in the road and down further in elevation, it’s Chihuahuan Desert: Fouquieria splendens, Dasylirion leiophyllum, and Nolina greenei compete with various arid-native grasses like Bouteloua spp.

Most every map and book misclassifies this as plains grassland. Sound familiar, ABQ?

Not very plains with the savanna of desert candles within thin grasses. Nothing like Amarillo or where we’re about to travel.

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Now were on the Llano Estacado, where Quercus havardii anchors the semi-arid, sandy western side and the borderline sub-humid eastern sides.

But with many ecoregions, there is some transition from soil differences. A good map might use dashed lines instead of solid lines on the plains, unlike for sharper changes most mountain ranges.

Here, Chihuahuan desert grassland native Hilaria mutica grows with spotty desert grasses, though some of this is overgrazing on sandy soils, too.

Texas has some pretty, pastoral rest areas. This one is east of Lubbock on the eastern edges of the Llano Estacado.

Now we’re on the Rolling Plains and nearing the sub-humid prairies of north Texas and a large swath of central portions of the great state of Oklahoma. On a climatic boundary from steppe to prairie, where weather often sets up a dryline, it’s usually windy. Not to mention we are now in Tornado Alley.

By the time daylight ran out, the air was decidedly more humid, at least at that point in time. This is just west of Seymour, my only stop for BBQ on the trip. And look at those lush grasses, even if Johnsongrass. And the hefty trees are a mix of prairie hackberries and oaks.

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A couple hours after dinner and dark, I reached the lowest elevation as I crossed the Red River into the great state of Oklahoma. The full moon was up. My phone’s GPS showed 950 feet elevation – that’s low for me.

One could really feel the moisture in the heavier air, though it cooled and dried some coming into Norman in time for bed.

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Awakening at my weekend lodging in Norman, it was chilly, with everything covered in dew, and much different than home. But there was a large Opuntia to keep me company.

I saw that lusher Opuntia also in Amarillo the next day. It had some winter damage, but it must be tough to live in their bipolar weather swings!

After breakfast, walking the campus brought back memories, though OU seems to have gone crazy with Acer rubrum. But it’s a fitting color in the land of crimson and cream.

So collegiate of an atmosphere with the fall colors, and relaxing, especially that I no longer have to do studio projects or homework. This building is new construction or a total renovation of the building I did some time in, the architecture school.

“Of campus beautiful by day and night…” And in October, we’re not worthy. Of all the campuses, this one makes me smile that I’m an alumnus. Not that several others aren’t also amazing. Stanford comes to mind.

This view down the north passageway was magical in that light.

The view on the South Oval towards Bizzell Memorial Library is better than ever.

I really like OU’s use of broadleaf evergreens as formal hedges or as just accents. They really take advantage of what they can do in humid Z 7, regardless that it is on the eastern Great Plains, one of the most wild climates in North America.

I only wish there were far more prairie plantings on campus, and not mostly lawn vs. shrub. They certainly have enough lawn that they could afford to lose some to swaths of native prairie.

Though lawns need little irrigation there. Mostly, there is no turf irrigation.

This my friends is the Cherokee Gothic Architecture style, a term coined by Frank Lloyd Wright himself.

On game day, so peaceful. I sat at the other end and just took in my favorite place on campus when I went to OU.

Entering the North or Van Vleet Oval, the original campus buildings at OU.

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Walking around and off campus over my 4 years, I always envied people who live in a cozy, residential neighborhood like this, walk to their job at the university, and don’t need to park for games.

A shady garden of Liriope muscari and Buxus microphylla under a tree I forget, but possibly Betula nigra.

The game and all that crimson of us Big Red fans. Boomer!

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Sunday meant it was time to drive back home to the desert and some interesting life turns later that week.

When it got light, I was on the rolling, sub-humid prairies west of El Reno. Since this region already had their first freeze or two, all the deciduous trees lining the distant creek or river were turning or were going bare. Ranch or range land here.

The above strips of wooded areas are a mix of Juniperus virginiana, Quercus stellata, and Q. marilandica.

And in special spots, areas of a more southerly influence with Quercus buckleyi, mixed with taller grasses like several species of Andropogon and the state grass Sorghastrum nutans and Rhus aromatica turning OU crimson. The soil is a cross of that same crimson and that other Oklahoma school’s orange. Got to be fair.

Many call it simply “red dirt,” and it’s quite sandy where oaks grow.

Some areas have low woods of oaks and even some hickories, called Cross Timbers. These were a pain to cross for early settlers.

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West of Clinton, it shifts into semi-arid steppe. If you like it, watch Dances With Wolves, or like I did in college, finish the drive to Denver, so you can drive through about the same thing for 450 more miles.

At 20-25 inches of rainfall on the eastern ends of steppe, there are even shorter wooded areas of hybrid oaks between the Cross Timbers just noted and Q. havardii we discussed much earlier going east. You won’t see many trees, soon.

This is a fall, post-first hard freeze expanse of russet Schizacrium scoparium.

Below looks unfrosted, with some strips of tardily deciduous or semi-evergreen Quercus mohriana, which I’ve seen on protected, moister places on the southern plains as far northwest as far southern Colorado.

Midwestern or southern prairies and western steppes meet, as the cool sculptures of Juniperus virginiana mix with Artemisia filifolia, russet little bluestems, and so on.

This was by Shamrock, which is on that dryline and boundary between humid and dry air often in the warm season. Those oaks in the distance are relics from moister times, or colonizing since white man has stopped prairie fires. Either way, it’s moist enough to sustain them in the right soil; not so in 20-30 miles west.

The first true Yucca glauca, confused by many with the smaller and earlier-flowering Yucca baileyi var. intermedia in the middle Rio Grande Valley and northwest. This is simply a greener, more watered version of the high plains around and east of Denver. That yucca is everywhere there, too.

Now, were nearing Clovis, still semi-arid steppe, and flat! We’re back on the Llano Estacado, with loads of center pivot irrigation. Just like so much land between Denver and the western third of Kansas.

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Transitioning into arid lands, some Prosopis glandulosa and Artemisia filifolia and decidedly less grass cover.

Chihuahuan Desert is now winning out, with this shrub (not sure of the ID) mixing with some Larrea tridentata nearby.

Bouteloua curtipendula gives way to creosote bush scrub and gravelly desert pavement soils.

West of Roswell, classic Chihuahuan desert grassland with Echinocereus dasyacanthus hiding all over, Vachellia vernicosa, and Nolina greenei or N. texana. Got me.

Looking just like Amarillo or Denver the foothills by Alamogordo, it’s Dasylirion leiophyllum once again on limestone-derived aridisols. Not mollisols. Sheesh!

And Mimosa biuncifera aka Wait-a-Minute Bush. Brush against one and you’ll know why.

Juglans microcarpa along the dry arroyos.

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Very few people I’ve heard who drove through Oklahoma, even on I-40, say they weren’t pleasantly surprised at how attractive it was.

Coming from the desert or high plains to the west, it’s not all table-flat, and the countryside is refreshingly green. Coming from the east, the land opens up before Oklahoma City or even Tulsa, when the southeastern forests give way to the southern prairies. Even Norman, which looks like the quintessential college town in the US Heartland, has been paying attention to attractive streeetscape treatments; it was not nearly so attractive in the 1980’s.

Living in New Mexico 27 years and in San Diego before that out of college, I’ve forgotten much about the middle of the US…think of an irregular triangle or oval touching Denver on the west and spreading out to the east including Oklahoma City, Kansas City, and Omaha. (where I was born)

Norman was exactly as I remembered it, just like when I went there as a college freshman. The mood was much like the Denver suburb I spent middle and high school…cordial. Nothing offensive is meant by that, but compared to other surrounding areas, its blend of college students and residents are just that way.

With 35 inches of rain each year, plus some ice / snow storms or tornado sirens thrown in with plenty of wind, that red clay soil nourishes a good variety of leafy oaks and other trees of the southern prairies. In late October, the mix of green and fall colors was amazing even in the balmy low 80’s the day I was in Norman, to watch the Sooners beat up the visiting Kansas State Wildcats for our homecoming game.

OU’s campus has always looked stellar, maybe now better than ever?

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I hope to post on my drive from Austin back to Las Cruces soon. It’s at least as interesting.

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Inspirations

Many people become designers by having something capture their emotions while functioning well, then they adapt it.

When done with consideration to one’s unique space, users, and the originator, that isn’t plagarism. Everything is inspired by something else. Very often we see other built designs, but ultimately that comes from something else in the natural world.

At the Desert Botanical Garden last week, I did that very thing.

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Durable Barriers: steel posts and angle irons allowed to oxidize, as well as wire mesh and welding, combine a simple effect and rustic ambiance; I like both.

While the round stones-impressed-into-cement-in-a-handrail isn’t practical financially, using rebar verticals to allow plants to grow behind or through is desirable. Many of you know my appreciation of soft and sharp in nature or gardens.

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Opaque Panels: sometimes these are taller than me, and other times like this they are short. No matter, what a great backdrop to create a focal point.

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Generous Desert Forms: one may get “that looks like Phoenix…” (in a childish whine) from those who reject anything not Denver X Monet X tundra. I have. But part of regionalism is abstracting wild forms into a small vignette.

Round cactus pads dancing between vertical, stoic yucca trunks and some other spots of spikiness is the condensed version of countless land areas in my region. So, why not amp up our spiky sparsness?

I now live where regionalism is more acceptable. Those yuccas and cacti are all Chihuahuan and not remotely Phoenix (Sonoran), so they borrowed from us! While they work handsomely there, they work even better in Las Cruces.

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Informal Hedging: softening or blocking the background, to enclose and privatize a space all year must be done without losing existing scenes and borrowed views. Such a balance will be a challenge in more than one area of my compact property.

While I had several Rhus ovata / Sugarbush at my first Albuquerque house, they were not used at my last house, so they get a leg up! This plant’s crisp, evergreen foliage and colors always got accolades.

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Unusual Fillers: another specific plant packed in more than I would have thought grabbed my attention. Euphorbia antisyphillitica / Candelilla is native to lower elevations in the Chihuahuan Desert. Rarely used in southern New Mexico’s valley, it sustained only a little freeze damage at -5F to +5F in 2011, so this could fill in some tight planting areas I have. Maybe.

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Water: on an incredibly balmy April day in 2012, this water feature told a story better than on my chilly, rain-washed “winter” day as I wore a bulky jacket. The form and warmer weather lighting nails down habitat related to the architecture and ecology. The bird might agree, too.

Many unbelievable situations conspired to get me out of probably never doing landscape design for others again, but that changes when it’s for me! I can see clean lines that reflect my modest home’s form, including a water feature with sculptural, spreading desert plants that thrive where I am.

So, ignore saguaros, palo verdes, or other tender, low desert fare. That tends to come with the territory in Phoenix.

Yes, there will be Gambel’s Quail, Curvebill Thrasher, Roadrunner, and several species of hummingbirds in my garden, especially if I can splurge on such a water feature.

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Crunchy and Permeable: with only 10 percent of the space here, I’ll have less of this same thing, probably with larger 3/4 inch crushed rock so it’s less messy when walking inside onto carpet in the office to change the song, or the bedrooms.

Imagine the warm, crunchy sound walking on it, with the ability of the surface to absorb storm water to benefit tree roots. I’ll have less impervious paving than I did at the last house.

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Light It Up: in summer, darkness means it’s bearable to be outside. Even if I momentarily spot the glowing eyes of a mountain lion or the careful pace of a coyote watching me on the grill. And at any time of the year, it’s nice to extend indoor living out, even if one bundles up to do so during our drive-by winter.

Contrasts

While in Phoenix for other matters, I first took time out to visit their world-class Desert Botanical Garden. I was in search for design inspiration and some relaxation.

Contrast is something I appreciate, being a flowers-optional designer in a 2 dormant seasons climate. Somewhat like the low desert in Phoenix, except as you’ll see they have no true winter unlike Las Cruces’ 2 month “hit and run” winter.

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The tans and browns of walls and permeable decomposed granite walkway, sure. But without the bold forms and dominant use of blue-green accent plants, this would look weaker. The yellow line of (overused) Echinocactus grusonii doesn’t hurt, here.

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Same as earlier shot, except angular agaves with a semi-circular seat wall make this pop. So does something I learned at my first job in ‘8*: provide a reveal on a wall to create more shadow and dimension.

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I enjoyed this on my cool, cloudy Monday as much as on a warm April day my first visit here in 2012. Yellow with tans and blue-greens, bold with the wall edge and crunchy walking.

The water feature in the middle was more captivating when warmer. Since I want a blue wall or two, a yellow wall might also be needed nearby. This is not a massed planting, but a highly naturalistic one, typical of many xeriscape designs in the Sonoran Desert.

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Same direction and module, yet different materials…concrete and steel.

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This is the closest thing I saw at DBG that fits in with the whole Marfa minimalism schtick. Oddly, this gridded massing contrasts 2 Chihuahuan Desert species…undervalued Agave lechuguilla and alienesque Euphorbia antisyphilitica.

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This is a great, sculptural arc of dark with bright, and wet with dry. The dark beach pebbles are a good texture.

While out of my price range for now, something about it could be abstracted with my area’s own hardy desert plants behind it to work. Cholla anyone?

You bet, since chollas are a symbol of my region, yet highly underused or used poorly. I specified them occasionally including using a few different species of cholla at my old house. A colleague even admired my former trio of the silver-form Cylindropuntia echinocarpa in pots, saying, “of course you would use chollas!”

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What seals the deal on the Desert Botanical Garden, other than various designers’ inputs, is the sense-of-place created.

There’s no denying their garden is in the Desert Southwest, right down to the specific location. There’s no compromise by using contradictory imagery, either.