First, behold Mr. Mantis (Stagmomantis californica), reigning with quiet authority atop what appears to be a cultivated beauty from either the Rosa hybrid tea or the Rosa grandiflora group. A throne of petals, fit for an insect of such calculated poise.

Second, we step into a grand theater of succulents, a stage bristling with spines and silent drama. I can name but three amidst this thorny spectacle. What first appears, on the left, to be a saguaro (Carnegiea gigantea) is, I believe, none other than the true colossus of Baja—Pachycereus pringlei—towering above its desert court, creating a regal and peaceful presence in the soft, dusk light. At its feet, a rebellious gathering of Opuntia sp. (prickly pear) flaunts their paddle-shaped cladodes like a troupe of unruly performers, indifferent to the grandeur above. And in the foreground, bundles of Echinocactus grusonii squat heavily, their ribbed, barrel-like forms evoking the look of stout kegs hoarding the last drops of desert rain.

Third, we have two Cephalocereus senilis—the Old Man Cactus—draped in wispy white manes that would make even the most disheveled philosopher (or ZZ Top stan) jealous. 

Fourth, standing in all its gluteal glory, we have a tree that appears to moon us with cheeky audacity—Ceiba speciosa, a flamboyant rejection of conventional treehood, seemingly equal parts tree, succulent, and mischievous evolutionary prank (like the platypus). Its swollen, curvaceous trunk, brimming with stored water, teeters on the edge of arboreal indecency, resembling nothing so much as a massive, spiky derrière planted squarely in the garden to make passersby blush.

Fifth, we have a grumpy old wizard with a midlife crisis. Cleistocactus strausii stands shrouded in silver, its wild-haired exterior screaming “Get off my lawn!”—until, suddenly, bam! Out come the hot-pink blooms. It’s as if this cactus, despite its cantankerous exterior, just couldn’t resist accessorizing.

Sixth, we have the Creeping Devil Cactus (Stenocereus eruca), another–though less voluptuous–Silk Floss Tree (Ceiba speciosa), some familiar figures we’ve already named, and a few species still awaiting identification. The Creeping Devils, with their yellow-tinged, sinuous forms, slither across the earth like fugitives in a jailbreak, inching forward with the slow, deliberate determination of escape artists. If only they understood LA traffic, they might reconsider. Or perhaps their ambition is greater—a slow-motion exodus to a land with fewer wildfires and better water rights, where a cactus can finally breathe easy.

Seventh—and I must confess, I’m struggling here. What I previously identified as the Creeping Devil Cactus (Stenocereus eruca) in the image above was yellow-green, yet below we have another spiny escape artist plotting its slow-motion getaway, only this time in a ghostly, pale hue.

To make things more perplexing, there’s even an ID tag boldly declaring the paler-hued cactus to be Stenocereus eruca—so what gives? Could the one above be a younger specimen, a color morph, or was I duped by a doppelgänger? Whatever the case, it seems this species is as sneaky in taxonomy as it is in movement. 

Meanwhile, other potential specimens include Pachypodium sp. (on the left), multiple patches of Cleistocactus sp. or a similar columnar cactus, adorned with fiery red blooms, and (on the right) a riddle of Agave sp. standing guard like bouncers at a prickly establishment.

I may well have misidentified a spine or two in these attempts at botanical sleuthing. Perhaps keener eyes will spot what I’ve missed—or even set the record straight.