At Lotusland (USDA zone 10), it was thrilling to see succulents set free from ceramic pots to creep and spill over rocks. Increasingly, even in frost-free gardens, succulents have become the darlings of container designs, but where they can overwinter outdoors it’s great to be reminded of the incredible synergy of succulents and stone.
The clamshell beach at Lotusland
Backed by a low retaining wall dripping with dudleyas and other succulents
(Thank you, Kathy!)
I visited a couple nurseries today and was a bit horrified by the seemingly overnight invasion of flat after flat of “spring color,” a reaction which made me wonder if I’m growing snobbish. So am I a snob? I don’t think so, just possibly confusing strong personal opinions with snobbery. I am amassing stronger opinions the older I get, exclusionary opinions that make distinctions and draw battle lines, if only for my own sense of clarity on issues. But I don’t think that strictly counts as snobbery.
Roses would be an example. No floribundas. I would never plant a rose for scentless masses of color.
(I can’t think of any plant from which I’d ask for masses of color, preferring the intriguing, shimmering inflorescences of Stipa gigantea to, for example, landscape roses, though that’s not strictly an apples-to-apples comparison.)
We can agree to disagree. Many people will prefer strong color over all else and find what I’ve come to love weedy and insubstantial. Others will find any rose unbearably old-fashioned, just as bearded irises go in and out of fashion. A mature stand of bearded irises in bloom nowadays is a rare sight in my neighborhood. These sorts of plants, bearded irises and roses, have in the past inspired extreme loyalty that overlooked any faults as garden plants. I recognize well that loyalty, since years ago I once gamely tried to make a garden out of a collection of old roses, over 30 in number of mostly noisettes and tea-noisettes, in this very same small garden. And though I loved them all, I have never felt more constrained and miserable as a gardener. Tastes change.
Reuben’s friends, Hal and Bill, invited us to visit their lovely garden, classically bricked and box-hedged, and this is but one stand of their many irises in bloom interspersed among trees of Euphorbia lambii and sprawling matilija poppies. (Who can look at bearded irises in bloom without thinking of Henry Mitchell, who took his yearly vacation the few weeks his hundreds of irises flowered, to stay home with them in their fleeting glory?)
And yet Hal and Bill were most excited by their new “meadow” of toadflax, Linaria maroccana. Tastes change.
As far as roses, I ask for intense scent, voluptuousness of bloom and iridescence of petal, preferably in a climber. Many can deliver all this.
But I’m finding I feel tyrannized when I grow more than one at a time. And the water bill doesn’t like it much either.
Right now, that one rose is the tea-noisette climber ‘Bouquet d’Or,’ and she amply represents all rosedom for me.
She makes do in a narrow gravel border with some exotic bedfellows like this beschorneria at the far end.
Tastes change.
Faithful readers of Reuben Munoz’s blog, Rancho Reubidoux, will have followed Reuben’s decision to join the Riverside Flower Show and Garden Tour, cheering him on as he underwent the harrowing process of qualifying to be on the tour and then the months of grueling preparation leading up to the fateful weekend. Fortunately, I live within 50 miles of RR and wouldn’t miss the chance to tour Reuben’s garden for the world. Garden designer Dustin Gimbel, who blogs at non-secateur, drove out with me to catch the tour of RR yesterday, a gorgeous, balmy Sunday. Tickets for the tour were bought at the Elks Lodge, where the “Flower Show” part of the festivities takes place, with tables holding row upon row of lovingly tended blooms in vases, orchids, succulents, all neatly identified. Very country fair. I could have happily passed a couple hours in the flower show hall, but the prospect of seeing Reuben’s legendary Rancho lured us quickly out of the hall, back in the car, with the “treasure map” in hand that would lead us to the fabulous riches of Rancho Rubideaux, home to Reuben, Paul, Inky and Frito, the latter two safely tucked away with friends for the tour.
Who can say at what number an enthusiasm or “keen interest” ends and a collection of plants begins? 20 hostas? 6 agaves? 114 daylilies?
When the genus is as diverse in leaf and flower as salvia, a collection interspersed throughout a garden may not even be noticed.
Salvia calcaliifolia
leaves of Salvia calcaliifolia
Australian hybrid ‘Wendy’s Wish’
Salvia ‘Christine Yeo’
Salvia wagneriana
leaves of Salvia wagneriana
leaves of Salvia karwinskii
Salvia ‘Waverly’
leaves of Salvia broussonetii
Salvia chiapensis
Beautiful plants for Southern California and other mediterranean climate zones.
The front gravel garden is aglow in orange. Dyckias, Spanish poppies.
Personally, I’m on very good terms with orange. Some good plants refuse to come in any other color.
Véritable chaise des jardins parisiens restaurée.
Google translation: “Chair of the true Parisian gardens restored.”
The Parisian shop Le Prince Jardinier is mentioned by Natalia Hill in her piece “Get Stuffed — The Animal Wonderland of Deyrolle,” found on the Huffington Post. I never pass on an opportunity to read about this fabled Parisian taxidermy/natural history shop dating back to 1831, which was nearly lost in a devastating fire in 2008.
Photo of interior from Deyrolle found here.
In her article, Ms. Hill mentions that a garden shop, Le Prince Jardinier, is on the ground floor of Deyrolle and gives a brief history of the chairs:
“These garden chairs adorned the grounds of the famous Luxembourg, Tuileries and Palais Royal gardens for over 80 years (1923-2005).
Parisians over generations would have enjoyed their use. In 2005, the chairs were mostly in disrepair and about to be thrown away.”
It was Prince Louis-Albert de Broglie, who bought Deyrolle in 2001, who also stepped in to restore the Parisian park chairs.
“CUSTOM Available only in the color of your choice: black, dark green, green amazonite, chrome, blue, yellow, red, pink … Transport costs on request.
(Disponible SUR COMMANDE uniquement dans la couleur de votre choix: noir, vert foncé, vert amazonite, chrome,bleu, jaune, rouge, rose… Frais de transports sur devis.)”
Simone de Beauvoir (“I wanted to talk about these things. I wanted to talk about all sorts of things with people who, unlike Jacques, wouldn’t let their sentences trail away at the ends.” Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter) probably talked up a storm in one of these chairs. Supply the name of your favorite writer, painter, poet, philosopher, and they’ve probably passed away an afternoon in a chair very similar to this.
And then there’s what photographer Andre Kertesz did with the chairs at the Luxembourg Gardens. Like a gardener, a photographer never actually sits in a garden chair. Not for long. Which is probably why I don’t hanker after pricy chaises and oversized lounge furniture for the garden, which only steal precious space from plants, but hard, expressive little chairs like these.
Photos from Chasing Light
Plenty of bees on these poppies.
(You weren’t expecting hard science, I hope. )
But this is a subject too serious for flippancy. The short version is that bees are still in serious trouble (and by symbiotic association, so then are we), their numbers drastically reduced since Colony Collapse Disorder was first identified in 2006. Neonicotinoids seem to be generally implicated, along with mites:
“Beekeepers are treating chemically for varroa mites, but when bees leave the hive and encounter agricultural insecticides, we see lethal synergies between the bee hive chemicals and the agricultural chemicals.â€
Neonicotinoids have yet to be banned in the U.S. but are presently banned in France, Germany, and Italy.
Workable theories are still evolving, as illustrated by another quote from the article quoted from above: “One of our biggest frustrations has been defusing the expectation for ‘a cure’ for CCD. The answer, when it comes, will be a knowledge-based enterprise, not a product-based enterprise. The answer will be messy.â€
(A messy situation that could inspire a dark sci-fi film treatment in the 1950’s Ed Wood style, directed by Tim Burton:
Pollinators are disappearing, including the heavy hitters, bees and bats. Human population soaring. Jobless and soaring. Humans sign up to be trucked around to agricultural sites to pinch hit as pollinators for meager wages, wearing specialized proboscis masks, work now considered coveted employment, with riots breaking out to fill vacant pollinator positions. The poor diet and working conditions of the “drone” humans, along with chronic exposure to agricultural pesticides, exacerbates paranoid violent tendencies. These “drone” humans begin to feel their meager subsistence as pollinators is threatened by local, organic market gardeners. Much conflict and sci-fi violence ensues, until The One (The Beeity), made part bee/part human by synergistic effects of pesticide cocktails, is able to communicate between bees and humans and unite both species. Vested interests, of course, seek to destroy the truth-telling Beeity, played by Tilda Swinton, hovering on lovely gossamer wings, etc, etc.)
What do you think? Pass the popcorn? So eerie when life imitates a plot from cheesy ’50’s science fiction movies.
The early morning hours around this 4-foot stretch of poppies sound like a saw mill. Zzzzzzz, zzzzzzzz, zzzzzzzz.
I find that sound very comforting.
You won’t be rushing home from work to check on how these plants are holding up on a hot, dry summer day. Just forget about them.
Aeonium with a nice, snaky curve, ballota, sedum, golden sedge, and a little pelargonium with tiny white flowers, similar to the scented geranium known as the “nutmeg geranium,” really all species pelargoniums. New purchase from Robin Parer’s nursery Geraniaceae, Pelargonium x fragrans ‘Joanne’s Spring Clover.’
These little scented pelargoniums are as tough (but as tender) as succulents.
There’s a man-eater loose in the neighborhood
Image found here.
Not a tawny blur of shadowy stripes, but a flutter of ferny glaucous leaf, 4X4 feet. Big enough for a tiger cub to hide behind.
Corydalis heterocarpa, Corydalis heterocarpa var. japonica, Japan Fernleaf Corydalis.
Perhaps arrogantly, I feel I’ve tamed this man-eater, but beware of letting this invasive fumitory stalk your zone 10 garden.
However, this fast-grower would probably make an easy, lush, scene-stealing exotic for summer containers in colder zones.
Seeds are available from B&T World Seeds and Plant World Seeds.
