So I did act on those August fidgets and started work on a path through the back garden. The planted back garden encompasses roughly a 14X40′ rectangle, and I’ve been inclined to keep every inch of it available for planting, with paths changed up as the planting varies over the years. Having a deep border of 14′ to plant has been useful for playing with seasonal summer stuff. But goals change, the drought tightens its stranglehold, and for now I‘ve put in a gravel path that bisects the garden lengthwise from the west, stopping roughly in the middle.
looking west over the rock spine plantings
With my back to the east fence, looking west at the open office door, very little of last week’s work is apparent. The removal of the tall Roldana petasitis approximately mid garden is the most notable absence. I didn’t bring the path all the way through to the eastern end. If completed east/west through the entire back garden, the proposed path would continue to wind roughly past the Yucca rostrata on the left and the tall blue chalksticks (Senecio ficoides) on the right and lead out onto the east patio. I may (or may not) get around to doing this later in the year.
Just outside the office door at the western end of the garden, the new small path begins, maybe 14 feet in length. A corgi-sized path. Billie was completely unaware of the work until it was finished, due to her afternoon nap schedule, and was a little hesitant about the change. Having been continually chastised to stay out of the plantings, she obviously suspects I‘m playing a trick on her now.
Aloe ‘Moonglow‘ on the right, Aloe ‘Tangerine‘ on the left.
She tested it out very carefully.
car jack stands are useful paw guides along the new path for Billie. Mangave is ‘Navajo Princess.’ The sweet potato was added a couple weeks ago. The reddish-bronze color is not always available locally, but when it is I usually can find a spot for it. Another sweet potato was moved elsewhere to make the path. Two non-blooming ‘Gardeners World’ Lychnis coronaria were also removed. Sinningia ‘Invasion Force’ was moved to the rock spine. Shrub-like Senecio medley-woodii was removed as well as most of Berkheya purpurea. Chocolate daisies were pulled up, but there’s more berlandiera elsewhere in the garden. The red kangaroo paws were removed.
And it‘s still stuffed! Looking east, the short path bisects the deep 14-foot wide, 40-foot long border lengthwise.
The short run of bricks are a relic from the old path that ran east to west in an arc. And look how they glisten! A couple days ago the morning mist blissfully morphed into a light rain that lasted over an hour.
Anisodontea ‘Strybing Beauty‘ starting to rebloom
Looking through the pergola, Agave salmiana var. ferox ‘Medio Picta’ shows up dramatically against gravel. The variegated Agave mitis on the left was transplanted, replacing a big clump of Aloe ‘ Moonglow.’ The biggest job was cleaning up and sawing back the bocconia, which had thick, mostly bare-leaved branches soaring over 8 feet.
Leucadendron ‘Ebony‘
Billie inspects newly replanted beehive pot
The path ends at Leucadendron ‘Ebony‘ and turns toward the southern creeping-fig covered wall. It’s maybe 14 feet of path before it turns to the south wall. With Mangave ‘Kaleidoscope‘ having bloomed, I saved the pups and filled its pot with some offsets of Xanthosoma ‘Lime Zinger‘ that needed a home. Phormium ‘Jester‘ was struggling in too much shade under the fernleaf acacia so was added to the pot in full sun. A large pot is a good visual guide for Billie as well as a foil to her digging energy. She loves to dig anywhere I‘ve been recently working in the garden.
So many good plants in the center of the garden were revealed, including three Echium wildpretii and restio Chondropetalum tectorum, one of four planted last year. I‘ve decided to use the evergreen restios in tandem with winter-blooming aloes. Grasses like miscanthus are usually ready to be cut back by the time the aloes are blooming, so restios make a fresher companion for them.
And that is where the August fidgets led me this year!
I think the potted Agave Snow Glow might be getting ready to bloom too
To continue with the hyper-journaling of the back garden, Alcantarea odorata has been tied upright to the tetrapanax and hummingbirds are able to visit the opening flowers safely and regularly again. That was done last week. Lovely heavy mist this morning that stained the pavement wet.
No sign of pups at the base of the bromeliad yet
but Mangave Purple People Eater has produced a pup, planted upper right
growth continues to surge on the trevesia in August. Im calling it Trevesia palmata, but Im not certain about the ID — it was a gift labeled as a green cussonia, quote unquote. My keyboard is still in ee cummings mode (lacking in some punctuation)
Yesterday I started on that path I was envisioning, which doesnt transverse all the way through yet, but its a start. I transplanted what I wanted to keep and saved some Aloe Moonglow pups, if anyone is interested. Ive got another big clump of Moonglow so cant use them all. With the current news cycle, just thought you might need a garden report distraction this morning…
I love to play with the varying scale that moving through a garden affords — plants experienced ankle-high, hip-high, the landscape pressing in, opening up, receding in the distance. I know a lot of gardens love the throw rug of a central lawn upon which to view the surrounding plants, where you can spin and turn in deciding which direction to explore. Openness, choice. But for whatever reason, Im bonded to the insistent journey of paths. If I had to guess the origin of my affinity for plant-lined paths, it likely stems from the lush growth the winter rains brought in spring to the empty fields near my Los Angeles home, and the paths the neighborhood kids blazed through the tall grass and mustard, the hidden forts we built — all of it lasting at most two months, before summer heat and drought burned it all away.
Miscanthus nepalensis and Justicia brandegeana ‘Red’ at the very southern boundary of the garden, maybe 4 feet from the 8-foot-high, creeping fig-covered CMU fence.
Im never quite happy with the movement through this small, plant-obsessed garden, no doubt the reason I change it up constantly. Today Im fighting an impulse to take out the middle of the garden and carve a path from the pergola to the back fence. I want a strolling, immersive garden this August, not a central garden filled with plants ringed in perimeter paths. (And less ambitiously, I also want the punctuation on my keyboard to function properly — apostrophes disappeared this morning as well as questions marks. Lets check out exclamation points — aha!)
looking south under pergola to creeping fig wall, miscanthus and shrimp plant just visible on the distant left — a possible gain of 6-feet of path if the Phormium ‘Black Rage’ and the middle planting are emptied out
In this fantasy, the miscanthus and justicia would remain, but Id have to pull out the central, very dark Phormium ‘Black Rage,’ one of the best Ive grown, the Roldana petasites, a young Rhodocoma capensis, kangaroo paws, emptying the giants out of the center and rebuilding it with low-growing aromatics, sculptural and swaying things too. (Also in this fantasy, I am not a rabid experimenter with new plants.) But all fantasies aside, in reality it would be a very short, silly path from pergola to the back fence. Better to have a long path meander east to west in this narrow rectangle, and that would mean a wholesale changeup, risking mature plants like Leucadendron Ebony (which from this view is mostly concealed by the phormium). Way back in the 90s, the garden did have a path that ran east to west, dry-laid brick on sand, but I gradually pulled it up to make room for more plants like the phormium…no doubt changes undertaken in August. This month always brings the change-it-up fidgets, a desire for new paths, new ways to experience the plants, new perspectives.
Try to imagine a little bungalow in place of this Tuscan villa — try hard and dont laugh — so the back of my house is on the left, the creeping-fig covered boundary wall on the right. That distant tree on the right is my fernleaf acacia. Looking out my office door east, I could make a walkable path through the center of the garden. It would mean massive amounts of replanting, but it is technically doable…
Sesleria Campo Azul — sitting under the pergola frames this view, but how much more enjoyable it would be to walk through it
If I ran a path east-west again, some of the sesleria would have to be moved, but grasses are very accommodating to change-up whims. Ive given an overly large share of ground in this small garden to seslerias but dont regret this bargain. I could struggle with keeping something watered for months or have these oatsy, light-catching blades and flowers. And I love how a manihot aka hardy tapioca has found a way through.
Agave kerchovei with newly arrived carex
And its not like I dont move plants all the time anyway. I love this part of making a garden. I moved a couple clumps of Carex testacea on Friday — the big fibrous rootballs really hold together when transplanted, so theres a good chance for success, even when doing this in August.
Two big clumps of Carex testacea were moved from the rock spine planting, one coming from the left of the restio. The chartreuse clump is Carex Everillo, a very promising sedge that tolerates more sun than I anticipated. I had planted five in deep shade in spring and noticed the clump in the most sun was by far the strongest in color and size, so a couple were moved to almost full-day sun here, just missing strong afternoon sun.
gravel visible again after Carex testacea was removed, adding a little breathing room for plants like a small, struggling Banksia repens
The other clump of Carex testacea was smothering my Aloe wickensii. Now the aloe just has to contend with Carex Feather Falls — another sedge new to me this year that is simply fabulous. I can see this sedge spilling onto my new east-west path.
Kalanchoe bracteata and sideritis before removal
after removal and replanting — if it wasnt for keeping the dog and cat from digging, Id clear out a lot of the pots too — ringing the planting with pots here is not great feng shui imho
More plant moves, but no new paths yet. A very large Silver Teaspoons kalanchoe was removed last week, maybe 3X3 feet in size with regular clipping. Winter blooming, adored by hummingbirds, the kalanchoe was an easy, invaluable place holder, protecting Leucadendron Jester while it deliberated whether to thrive or fail. With the leucadendron seemingly choosing to thrive, I began to contemplate removing the kalanchoe, first trying to prune it back to see if that helped the flow in this corner. After removing the old sideritis nearby of a similar size, the kalanchoe looked even more awkward. Is there a feng shui for gardens, question mark…because a perceived lack of flow really bugs me now, and I hate having to look over and around one plant to see another. Instead Im envisioning a long east-west path, each plant luminously outlined in the morning sun. Ah, the August fidgets strike again! But of course August is not the month for such garden upheaval in zone 10b, which is better scheduled for autumn — a delay that will help cool down and refocus the mad, impulsive fidgets of August.
We have a new member of the family, so of course I had to immediately become acquainted with little Hannah, who resides in a foggy coastal Oregon town. And even though she’s only days’ old, I began deliberating before leaving, What shall she call me? Nana? Mimi? Grandmothers in our family style themselves with the French word for grandmother, Memere, but my mom seemed to so thoroughly own that title that it feels inappropriate somehow to take it on. After meeting little Hannah, I’ve decided she can call me anything she wants — just please call me! Anytime, anywhere…
the big news while I was away — flowers opening on bromeliad Alcantarea odorata
As well as helping friends pack and move house, Marty handled the garden and Billie while I was away and seemed overwhelmingly pleased to have me home to take over garden responsibilities again. I didn’t make it easy for him, leaving lots of new plants needing extra attention while they settle in, next to succulents that don’t want any water at all, etc…I still can’t get over what a phenomenal job he did at the hot end of July. I planted an Annie’s Annuals order a day or two before I left — what was I thinking? — and not a single plant was lost. Bravo, Marty! (And sorry I’m such a PIA.)
Between Marty’s dutiful attention to watering duties and the 90-degree heat, the garden is incredibly lush, with the trevesia in particular throwing some bronzy new leaves that look like they were cast in dyed concrete.
It’s always so much fun to prowl the garden after a few days away, when it has even more of a capacity to surprise. There were buds on this tillandsia when I left, but I was unprepared for this graceful performance. Possibly T. stricta — tell me if you disagree. I’m very lax with tillandsia names.
The blooming tillandsia is massed with other bromeliads and succulents on wire scaffolding along the east fence, and this arrangement has worked out surprisingly well throughout sumner, mostly getting by on misting
Pineapple lilies opened.
With the high temps, the tropicals exploded into growth and flower, like this shrimp plant.
A six-pack of Gomphrena ‘Fireworks’ was planted down the rock spine right before I left.
The gomphrena hasn’t made much size yet, but at least all six survived. The Carex testacea on the right is lush, happy, and reseeding along the rock spine. A Libertia chilensis was just squeezed into this area too, part of the Annie’s Annuals order.
This little coreopsis was a recent local find, ‘Hardy Jewel Desert Coral’ — not much info available on it other than the name implies it’s perennial and not an annual.
The sideritis and Verbena bonariensis were pretty much done, so they were both pulled — with high hopes for reseeding — and a couple Sesleria ‘Campo Azul’ I had potted in reserve were slipped in. (This sesleria, along with the sedge Carex testacea, have become the dominant grassy presence in the back garden.) Now Aloe marlothii can get a nice baking this August and redden up those spines.
Silvery succulent is Kalanchoe bracteata
And I took the opportunity to clean up some of the wandering pups of Agave lophantha ‘Quadricolor.’ I really need to pull that bloomed-out ruby grass as well — Melinus nerviglumis provides plenty of seedlings.
bloom on bromeliad Alcantarea odorata
Back to that crazy bloom truss on the bromeliad. I’d been debating whether to stake it, and in a week’s time it’s become nearly parallel to the ground. I really need to make a staking decision or risk damaging the flowers. (I think the better approach might be to tie it with fishing line to the tetrapanax.) The individual flowers are lightly scented. I can find no information on if and how many pups will form, and whether they will be on the bloom spike or at the base. My Tillandsia secunda is incredibly prolific, continually throwing pups along the spike and at the base, and has been doing so since July last year! In bloom a full year, I noticed new flowers buds forming on it again just this morning, which means more pups will form along the stalk — very different from agaves. My White Agave, A. mitis var. albiodor, has finished blooming, and I’m desperately scanning the base for a single pup — I may have spotted one — whereas I’ve taken at least a dozen pups already from the tillandsia.
Hoping your gardens are also pleasing you this summer, whether nourishing your eye or stomach — or both!
not my pool, but don’t you feel cooler already just looking at it? (photo by MB Maher)
With the drought tightening its grip, Californians have been asked to cut water use by 15 percent compared with last year. Even so, yesterday I let a hose trickle to deep-water parts of the garden, which was getting by on strategic spraying of mostly new plantings and containers up till now. And I’ve been continuing with new planting even into July, filling the holes repeatedly with water before settling in a couple new passifloras. (After all, the government encourages us to consider the benefits of “Using Trees and Vegetation to Reduce Heat Islands,” and I think maintaining a cooling biomass balanced with smart resource management is an important discussion to have now.) Last month’s water bill had us pegged at using 165 gallons a day. The average usage per person is roughly around 100 gallons, so we’re doing okay considering it’s a summer water bill.
All these lilies were planted fall 2020 in my zone 10b, about a mile from the Pacific Ocean. We had very little winter rain, but the bulbs managed to grow and bloom on mostly hand watering and careful mulching. Bulbs were sited near plants that love the extra water, such as bocconia, and well apart from the agaves and other dry garden plants. IDs are based on what I ordered and notes on where the bulbs were planted, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility that some IDs aren’t correct…speak up if you have a difference of opinion! And let me just say that waking up to a newly opened lily bud is not a bad way to start a July morning…
‘Bell Tower’ — a single bud, stem 3 feet, needs staking. I prefer multiple buds per stem even if the flowers are smaller individually
‘Black Beauty’ hovering over a kalanchoe leaf, about 5 feet in height, 6-7 buds to a stem that needs staking
‘Black Beauty’
and ‘Black Beauty’ again
‘Red Velvet’ — stems over 6 feet with up to 12 buds, the only lily that hasn’t required staking
‘Red Velvet’ — I’d love to have this lily increase and return next year, along with ‘Black Beauty,’ ‘Silk Road,’ and ‘Eurydice’
‘Eurydice’ using Sonchus palmensis for some support but the stem is fairly upright on its own – 2-1/2 feet tall, about 6 buds per stem
‘Silk Road,’ about 5 feet in height, needs staking, approx 6 buds per stem — not too sure about the ID on this
‘Silk Road’
For such over-the-top floral extravagance, I gotta say growing these lilies was surprisingly easy, with only a couple no-shows, mostly the coppery colors (‘Make Peace’ and ‘Copper Crown’). Whether any return next year is an open-ended question — and if they don’t, that’s fine too. One season of thrills more than justifies the expense — keeping in mind what you’d pay per stem as cut flowers. Order the bulbs now for the best selection for fall planting.
‘Eurydice’ lilies opened this week, an asiatic with martagon-esque, downward-facing blooms. Zone 10 gardeners are reminded that lilies do not necessarily return every summer for us, so arborator cave (grower beware!)
2. The echeverias are blooming — the one above is a gigantea hybrid.
It has this scrumptious, stone-fruit coloration of plummy stems and apricot blooms.
3. The young Passiflora vitifolia continues to relax into the garden, this summer its first of blooming really well.
It’s escaped the pergola and is reaching out to the tetrapanax for more support. For now, I’m taking a lenient approach. Adding further to its allure, after the flowers drop, the dark, papery bracts stud the vine.
4. My apaganthus and grasses experiment continues, with no verdict as of yet. However, very few of the agapanthus planted last year rebloomed this summer — that’s a single flower of ‘Indigo Frost’ out of three plants. I added in a couple ‘Brilliant Blue’ yesterday. In a larger garden, with more generous spacing, I think this could work. The size and height of Sesleria ‘Campo Azul’ is a good fit for the agapanthus flowers. Historically, agapanthus don’t mind being crowded and do grow among grasses in their native South Africa. In the long run, if the experiment means I have to choose grass or agapanthus, I’m favoring the grass. This selection by Native Sons is that good. The sesleria responds well to irrigation but is also very tolerant of dry conditions, and aloes work well with it. The agapanthus may need to become better established to tolerate the same irrigation regimen. For a larger zone 10 garden, imagine a long sweep of big succulents like agaves in gravel, backed by rhythmic pockets and bays of this grass and agapanthus and maybe kangaroo paws for summer — try it and let me know how it works! If that sort of thing appeals to you…
5. ‘Fiesta’ aeonium is greener than ‘Mardi Gras,’ which languished then disappeared a while ago. Both are known to be weak growers. I actually prefer ‘Fiesta,’ and maybe with more green to the leaves it might have a bit more oomph in vigor.
6. The containers against the office/garage. Orange flowers are Senecio confusus, which confusedly collapsed in spring, and armfuls had to be pulled down from the trellis and under the eaves. I assumed it was dead. New lush growth resumed not long after I planted a Cobaea scandens in the same container to pick up the senecio’s slack. The cobaea has reached the eaves now and will hopefully have some flowers soon to mix it up with the orange daisies. With eucomis and Solanum pyracanthum and a bunch of other stuff. Lower right silvery plant is Didelta ‘Silver Strand.’ And, no worries, those bottle openers hanging near the clock are purely decorative….
In the U.S., enjoy your long weekend!
(Six on Saturday is hosted by The Propagator — this is the first week I’ve crashed the meme!)
The dwarf statice, Limonium minutum, are new this June. Planted along the spine of rocks laid down last November, their tight cushions send out slender stems that branch upward to hold aloft sparkling clouds of everlasting blooms, creating a gauzy mist over surrounding succulents. Hardy to at least zone 5 too. I love the effervescence they add from a small footprint, bringing a see-through performance that doesn’t smother other plants. So far, unless they’re terribly intrusive reseeders, we’re good.
Very new this June, as in just planted yesterday, are two rectangular planters filled with Anigozanthos ‘Tequila Sunrise,’ Leymus condensatus ‘Canyon Prince,’ Teucrium azureum, and Cuphea micropetala. The leymus grasses will most likely be moved into the parkway in fall. I used this grass in the no-water hellstrip for a local pocket park, and its flourishing icy blueness is one of my favorite sights when walking Billie to the park. So I may break my “never planting our hell strip again, oh, hell no” rule and use it in our own parkway, where it just might be able to outcompete car doors and careless shoes and trash where other plants failed.
Kangaroo paws ‘Regal Velvet’ and ‘Tequila Sunrise’ — the fading flowers on ‘Regal Velvet’ have been cut and brought into the house for dried flowers. I dislike the color as it ages in the garden, especially since ‘Tequila Sunrise’ has a much longer period of vibrancy and holds its color better
‘Tequila Sunrise’ is possibly my favorite paw of all, and I may add it to existing clumps in the garden in fall, replacing the red ‘Regal Velvet’ — a good grower but I dislike the way the color ages. ‘Regal Velvet’ might be good if separated from the orange paws and moved against the grey east fence.
The cuphea, aka Giant Mexican Cigar Plant, should be able to handle summer in a container. It’s too much of a sprawler to squeeze into an already packed garden, but I knew my hummingbirds would be furious if I didn’t bring it home. (I rarely see this cuphea for sale locally but found it at Village in Huntington Beach.) The back planter holds the kangaroo paws and a leymus, giving the paws sun and light at their crowns; the front planter got another leymus and the big spreaders like the cuphea and teucrium, so they can spill onto the bricks and not on the paws.
the potted Yucca linearifolia was brought back from the dead, dug up from the garden and nursed back to health — and yes, I’m very proud that I stuck by it during an extended ugly period, something I find difficult to do!
Even though I haven’t had much luck with the parrot’s beak plant, Lotus berthelotii, in the past, I added a couple among the new plantings along the rock spine, and it seems happy here, along with Hebe ‘Quicksilver’ and Marrubium bourgaei ‘All Hallows Green’ (formerly a ballota).
lotus, hebe, and marrubium near the base of Leucospermum ‘Tango’ — large succulent-ish leaves upper left are Brassica cretica subsp aegae grown from seed from Liberto Dario
Planted a couple months ago from a 4-inch pot mail-ordered from Dancing Oaks Nursery, Bupleurum fruticosum surprised me with throwing a bloom. Which was intense instant gratification to see the umbels for which this evergreen shrub is justly famous and the reason why I’ve repeatedly tried to make it happy in my garden.
I’ve been reading nothing but good reports on Euphorbia ‘Blue Haze’ and found three small plants locally. E. ‘Dean’s Hybrid’ is another one I’d like to try.
I was crazy happy to find this unlabeled herbaceous euphorbia locally at Green Touch Nursery. I splurged on the 3-gallon, about 3-feet tall, but gallons were available too and I’m debating whether to go back and grab a couple more.
It’s not mellifera, lambii or stygiana, all of which I have grown. Those red petioles are an insanely brilliant touch. It reminds me of Euphorbia ceratocarpa, a plant I grew and lost many years ago. It was Oscar’s day off when I found it, so I need to call him and see if he has an ID for it.
The bloom on bromeliad Alcantarea odorata is taller than me, and I’m 5’8″ — the growth seems to be slowing and the buds are fattening, so maybe flowering is imminent.
For someone who loves to change up the garden, for once that’s not the case — I’m really going to miss this big bromeliad under the tetrapanax.
At Upland Nursery in Orange I found Vriesea ‘Nova,’ which may get the alcantarea’s spot once it’s done blooming. When the alcantarea’s pups make size, though, I’d love to see that silvery rosette sidled up against the tetrapanax again.
On the northeast side of the house I finally planted my long-suffering Cussonia paniculata after seeing how well Max’s are doing in the ground in Oakland (check his Instagram feed here). Mine has been so slow, countless years, in building a rounded canopy. It will actually get good morning sun here, and some late afternoon sun as well. Adjacent Cussonia spicata, still potted, has the same problem — spindly leaf growth but atop a much longer trunk.
Deeper in the shade against the house, Sansevieria cylindrica was recently added for some height and line to balance all the big leaves.
Schefflera taiwniana at lower left, potted sansevieria on a pedestal, Fatsia japonica ‘Spider’s Web’ on the right
The new scheffleras are starting to come in to local nurseries. I think I found this Schefflera taiwaniana at H&H in Los Angeles. The sheltered, northeast exposure is my best guess for giving it a decent chance. The new mystery euphorbia has a very similar foliar effect, but for sun.
Begonia luxurians
I’ve had such a hankering for the palm-leaf begonia this summer and have been looking everywhere for it. Village Nursery in Huntington Beach is where to find them locally — and nowhere else because, believe me, I’ve looked.
Malabaila aurea is one of those plants in the category of you’ve got to grow it for yourself to believe it. Tiny, insignificant yellow umbels transform into the most extraordinary seedheads. A few plants are flowering, and if I want more plants next year I’ll have to resist saving the dried seedheads for vases and leave them to self-sow. Just wow.
not new but returning for several summers now, Eryngium pandanifolium
Grevillea ‘Poorinda Blondie’ is hanging in there its first summer, which so far has been very mild and nothing to complain about here in coastal Southern California. My heart goes out to all of you currently coping with extreme weather events. And if you are considering celebrating with fireworks this upcoming holiday, please reconsider — they don’t mix well with the extreme drought conditions out West.
Billie now has many friends that stop by our gate when walking their dogs throughout the day, and everyone comments on how comically looong she’s gotten, and also how skinny! She’s definitely in a growth spurt, corgi style!
a dragon tree, Dracaena draco, takes decades to reach even this size — Venice, Calif
A few years ago I had the opportunity to help with a small front garden, that was designed to receive only occasional hand watering. I planted agaves and other succulents, dymondia, some bromeliads, three Hesperaloe ‘Brakelights,’ (all of which withered away — why not choose life, hesperaloe!?) and a dragon tree, Dracaena draco, the first and only time I’ve planted this succulent tree. Although slow growing, I knew its potential size might be a problem — I seem to have a fatal attraction to Canary Islanders! Right now the dragon slumbers in the form of an innocuous, leafy rosette, roughly about 4X3′. But when it flowers, which is still a long way off, but when it does, its stem will begin to branch and develop that mesmerizingly dense, umbrella-like canopy, with branches radiating outward like arterioles, that can rise over 20 feet. Now, with the house changing hands soon, I’m debating whether to dig it up or leave the botanical time bomb in place.
Dracaena cinnabari image by Daniel Kordan
My smoldering moral dilemma involving a single dragon tree was recently inflamed by some amazing images by photographer Daniel Kordan. Dracaena draco is not the only dragon tree named for its red sap, which Greek myth says originates in the dragon blood spilled when Hercules vanquished Ladon in the Garden of the Hesperides. The subject of Kordan’s photos is Dracaena cinnabari, the Socotra dragon tree from Yemen, that also spills red sap when cut, a resin used not only medicinally but also in many other applications such as for dyes and varnish. The storied dragon trees have sparked imaginations for millenia, Greek, Roman, and Arab. And now I’m in a quandary over what to do with the baby one I planted in a small city garden in Los Angeles, facing a busy sidewalk, where its presence goes mostly unnoticed….for now.
Dracaena cinnabari image by Daniel Kordan
I might have to go shopping for a large pot this weekend for a baby dragon tree — and happy Father’s Day to all our dads!
One of the movies on heavy VHS-cassette rotation when my boys were young was Jules Verne’s Mysterious Island. Hot air balloon escape from a Civil War-era prison, crash landing near an uncharted island to fight for survival against monster-size crabs, chickens, and bees — all exquisitely rendered by the special effects artistry of Ray Harryhausen. Riveting stuff (and the boys liked it too, ha ha…)
A single truss bloomed in March this year, with satellite trusses forming like elephant ears in May.
Now I’ve flipped the script on the bees. Watching them frenzy over my Tree Dandelion, Sonchus palmensis, I have to wonder if the local bees feel they’ve wandered into a mysterious island of their own. Up and down the street dandelions come in the garden-size variety, but buzz over our fence and the dandelion is as big as a tree. And there may be more than one soon, because it’s apparently happy enough here to self-sow. For zones 9b-11.
Self-sown seedling of Sonchus palmensis, lower right rosette.
Coming from what are to me the ultimate mysterious islands, filled with one-off, eccentric, and just plain gorgeous flora, the Canaries, Sonchus palmensis turns the back garden into an adventure, for me and the bees.
