A sultan of a succulent

Erepsia lacera. A succulent with large, sweet sultan-like flowers. (At least what I call sweet sultan, the annual Centaurea moschata.)

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From Annie’s Annuals. A fast grower. As often as I trim it off the bricks, I’m surprised to see any flowers.
My mom pointed them out to me the other night, and then added she would like some in her little garden too. This from a woman who only recognizes pelargoniums as possessing true flowers.
With my mom’s seal of approval, now I know this little succulent definitely has crowd appeal. I’ll need to take some cuttings since Annie’s currently doesn’t have erepsia in production.
Fortunately, rooting cuttings from succulents doesn’t overtax even my weak propagation skills.

Also known as ‘Paarl Roosvygie,’ in Afrikaans, I guess. From South Africa.

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Just behind the erepsia, bulbinella in a good flush of bloom too.
The dark green menace on the right is Agave ‘Jaws.’

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Some Good News

If newspapers had come in two editions this past decade, one edition with only good news, the other edition with not-so-good news, the good news edition would have been slim indeed. Flung by the delivery person who always aims for my agaves, it would probably have blown away down the street like a kite before hitting my driveway. This past decade knocked the stuffing out of me, forcing me to jettison what little I thought I’d come to understand about human nature. I’ve never been one not to face unpleasant facts, but a blog about gardening seemed a reasonable response to what I’ve witnessed so far of the 21st century. It seemed a good time to focus on what you love, no matter how narrow and insignificant the subject might seem to the uninitiated, and find others who valued it as well.

In that spirit, this will come as good news only to a very small number of people, but that select few can rejoice. Western Hills, the garden, has been saved, for the moment at least, though it may not be a nursery ever again.

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A photosynthetic palace, a beloved Northern California nursery destination for many years, as written here previously. All photos by MB Maher.

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The view from the house on the property.

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In honor of the occasion, I did a quick tour around my garden to identify plants obtained from Western Hills. Not many are left. Possibly a dyckia. Astonishing what a meat grinder my garden is, chewing up plants and leaving no trace. An elephant’s graveyard for nursery stock.

I did find what is probably the last notebook entry of a Western Hills shopping trip in April 2003:

Corydalis ‘Pere David.’ One of countless blue corydalis I fed into the meat grinder garden.
Daphne ‘Carol Mackie.’ Oh, to recapture the innocent days of gardening youth when one blithely purchased daphnes with every expectation that they would flourish.
Angelica sylvestris purpurea
Hellebore ‘Boughton Beauty’
Ruta chalepensis, the fringed rue
Viola ‘Dancing Geisha’
a variegated plectranthus
Sisyrinchium ‘Judith Kinear.’ (No hits when searching for a plant under this name today.)
Helicotrichon sempervirens ‘Sapphire’

From the Garden Conservancy website, the new owners are Chris and Tim Szybalski. Chris is co-owner of Westbrae Nursery in Berkeley, Calif.
With their purchase of Western Hills, I just know this is the beginning of another beautiful collaboration between people and place.

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Posted in garden visit, MB Maher | Tagged | 7 Comments

Fail Better (Summer Recap)

I admit it’s a little early for a summer recap, but there is a penultimate feel to the garden today. By this time, whatever plans I’ve laid have either happened or failed to happen.

It’s time to admit this is as lush as the little tropical terrace will get this summer. And what a lot of somber green there is, though that’s mostly an impression the back wall covered in creeping fig brings. The fig, Ficus pumila, is getting shaggy again and needs the second of its twice-a-year shearings.

The tetrapanax, pushing up behind the potted variegated agave, has made it to about 3 feet this year. In the telescoped view a photo brings, a golden-leaved coprosma is directly behind the rice paper plant, then the dark green of the wall, though in actuality there’s plenty of other things growing here too, and even a short pathway that curves inward behind the pergola. The trunks belong to the smoke tree ‘Grace.”

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Mixology in the Garden

A couple days ago a non-gardening member of the household burst through the screen door and out onto the porch and barked at me, “Grow me some cilantro!”

I barked back, “Grow it yourself. The smell makes me retch. What do you want it for?”

And the non-gardener went on to detail the alcoholic beverages for which cilantro is a useful ingredient.

At which point it occurred to me that we’re obviously taking entirely the wrong approach in attempting to encourage non-gardeners to get their hands dirty by touting the healthy benefits of growing fresh vegetables, including exercise and obesity reduction. What a virtuous bore. Maybe a bit less virtue and more vice?

Infusing booze with homegrown ingredients would seem a much more likely inducement. In another example of those zeitgeist-channeling moments we all occasionally stumble into, the New York Times had an article on this subject the very day the non-gardener fired off a request for cilantro.

So we made up a list of possible home-grown candidates, some more fanciful than others since not just infusion but distillation would be required, but just an idea list:

cilantro
mint
parsley
chilis
juniper (gin)
potatoes (vodka)
artemisia (absinthe)
malbec grapes – vodka and wine
tomatoes
tomatillos
carrots
cucumber
pumpkin
basil
blueberries
string beans (bloody mary’s)
lemons
et cetera
et cetera

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Think of the beautiful bottles you’d have to collect! And the bacchanalias, the harvest parties, with tables and ingredients staged and ready for guests to make mixology magic on a Labor Day weekend.
It might even induce me to grow more vegetables. Just don’t ask me to drink anything flavored with cilantro.

Posted in Ephemera | Tagged | 6 Comments

Cinema Botanica No. 2: Green Card

There’s only one reason this wisp of a movie, Green Card, was screened again at the Cinema Botanica.


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And that reason is the star of the movie, who literally oozes charm and charisma.

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For me, the star is indisputably the greenhouse. They should have just named the movie Greenhouse and been done with it.
If asked to choose a movie based on a brilliantly orchestrated car chase scene or the interiors of a 19th century apartment with attached greenhouse, I know which one I’d prefer.

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This movie has stuck with me since its release in 1990 for that simple reason alone, a spectacular greenhouse attached to a rooftop apartment in New York City.
These are the sort of dreams movies should peddle more often.

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The only scene enlivened by people and not the greenhouse that I remembered was Andie MacDowell dreamily reciting to the building’s co-op board how she’d restore the greenhouse and tend to its plants if they’d just give her the chance. Oh, the poor neglected cordylines and begonias! The board’s insistence that only a married couple can buy the apartment starts the immigration/green card deception rolling and chugging down its rickety tracks. Hard to imagine a time when a light-hearted movie involving immigration issues seemed like a good idea, but this was long ago, in that innocent era of the late 1980s. (Irony intended.)

When a well-intentioned movie fails, made by talented people, it’s a fascinating conundrum. Written, directed, and produced by Peter Weir, so there’s no one else to blame. Weir, director of such movies as Witness, The Mosquito Coast, The Year of Living Dangerously, Picnic at Hanging Rock, The Truman Show. This man can make a watchable movie. My theory is that Weir came up with a high-concept movie premise, attempting to make a Faustian bargain by helming a Hollywood-style romantic comedy, then had too much subtlety as an artist to deliver it. He blurred when he should have sharpened, whispered when he should have shouted. Weir just couldn’t be the hack this rom-com movie needed. I really think Weir was more interested in the greenhouse too.


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There’s confusion in the way characters are drawn. Girl horticulturalist is uptight and not in touch with the juicy things in life and needs to be opened up by a man so basic he’s almost feral. You’re kidding me, right? Someone with their hands in the soil has lost the pulse of the natural world?

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Are we supposed to see her as a defeminized, unsocialized wallflower because she likes plants and runs around in cargo pants and army boots? If so, that perception is canceled out by how she’s done up the apartment, all vintage and shabby chic. Andie MacDowell just can’t get anything across with this role, but you can follow the plot by watching her hair. When her hair is constrained in braids or buns, she’s uptight. When it flows, she’s softening toward our anti-hero Depardieu. Seriously. Follow the hair.

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But Gerard Depardieu is even more perplexing. Think of a sculptor beginning a massive heroic statue, just slapping clay around into a rough outline, then leaving the studio briefly for a quick smoke. The enormous lumpy statue creaks, animates, then walks out of the studio in search of the nearest bar. This is Depardieu. An oak of a man. The body is all out of scale. Massive, rounded shoulders above narrow hips that seem unequal to the task of holding up his torso, he lumbers and lurches through the movie, wearing a dark, baggy Frankenstinian jacket. And along with the greenhouse, he’s the best thing about the movie. Amazingly elemental. And when he gives the little speech about leaving school at the age of 12 to begin a life of petty crime, something in his delivery had me looking up his bio the next day. That little speech is indeed a description of Depardieu’s early life. But this movie is not worthy of his talents. Check out The Return of Martin Guerre to see what he can really do.

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In the army boots photo above, there’s architectural salvage being made use of in the public garden MacDowell is working on with her group, the Green Guerrillas. Weir seems genuinely interested in the subject and brings in this level of detail.

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I usually end up doing a mental remake after watching an uneven movie such as Green Card. Mine would star French actor Vincent Cassel and Ellen Page of Juno and Inception. We only need a photo of Cassel.

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Maybe this time they’d both be horticulturalists, but the conflict would have Page growing edibles, while Cassel is interested in green walls. How will their relationship survive such a mind/body schism? That’s as far as I got, but I do know there’d definitely be lots more screen time for the greenhouse.

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Posted in Cinema Botanica | Tagged , , , , | 16 Comments

Stolen Garden Kisses

The one-foot tall agave and the giant Polygonum orientale, Kiss Me Over The Garden Gate, would seem fated never to meet, to exist in separate physical planes, forever divided by height and differing moisture needs.

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But meet they do, and even kiss, when the agave is grown in a mossed basket hung from a wire tripod about 5 feet high, and the 6-foot Polygonum orientale is bowed over by the weight of its tassels. They totally surprised me with their affection for each other today. Too much fun playing matchmaker to this unlikely duo.

Posted in agaves, woody lilies, Plant Portraits | Tagged | 4 Comments

More Talk About Buildings and Plants

I left work in Santa Monica yesterday afternoon and fought the traffic east down Wilshire to check out the new Rolling Greens store on Beverly.

Stopped at a light, I was very surprised to see these hard-core, drought tolerant containers and stone hardscaping outside the offices of the Beverly Hills Greater Los Angeles Association of Realtors, so popped off a quick photo from the car, waiting for the light to change, paparazzi style. The dragon trees and cactus made for quite the spectacle on stately Wilshire Boulevard, the containers gleaming in the late afternoon sun. From the car, the hardscape of rust-colored stones or broken stained concrete appeared over-large and uneven, uninviting to pedestrian foot traffic. It does read well driving by, though. This is Los Angeles after all, where supposedly nobody ever walks.

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My stop at Rolling Greens was brief. Beautiful store, an inspired choice to adapt the former Town Tire Company building. Not much plant inventory this time of year, but still a wonderful horticultural asset for the neighborhood, heavy on pots, books, and furnishings.

Debra Prinzig blogged about the opening of Rolling Greens in December 2009.

Posted in The Hortorialist | Tagged | 7 Comments

Urge to Travel

Three very good posts recently on reclamation and repurposing of industrial sites, as well as public spaces, even if only temporarily, as in the case of the forest made of the Champs-Elysees.
From the Huffington Post 8/24/10, which includes mention of NYC’s High Line, which A Tidewater Gardener also visited recently, producing that stunning blog entry.
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Studio G found this converted water tower in the Netherlands, the Villa Augustus. Photos from VA’s website.

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Villa Augustus’ kitchen garden, supplying their restaurant:

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Posts like these are too good to let slip away without an encore.

(Autumn always brings a nearly irresistible urge to travel.)

Posted in garden visit | Tagged , | 4 Comments

Euphorbia Love

Euphorbia, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

Perennial, shrub and tree.

You give a frost-free garden dappled shade and ruby tints high overhead. Euphorbia cotinifolia, about 15 feet, max.
I’ve been entertained by the sound of your ballistically exploding seeds as the temperature reached into the 90’s.

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As fresh in August as in spring. Euphorbia ‘Ascot Rainbow’

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Outdoing all other claims on green. Euphorbia mellifera.

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Safe to say your reputation is sound enough for some minor quibbling. There’s this small problem with scale you allow to congregate on E. characias. In fact, here in zone 10, E. characias never makes the large shrubs it does in zone 8. E. x martinii does much better, a natural hybrid of E. amygdaloides and E. characias. And I’ve heard E. myrsinites is tough, but apparently not tough enough for the gravel garden, so I’ve abused your good nature in that regard. E. lambii appears to be struggling in the gravel garden as well, yet I know you can pull it off — I’ve seen E. lambii grown xeric at the Huntington cactus garden. More water while you are getting established would be appreciated, wouldn’t it?

Back to your many fine qualities. Your ubiquitous cheeriness in Euphorbia ‘Diamond Frost,’ perennial in zone 10, returning amongst the crush of plants I squeeze in around you, always forgetting you were there first.

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You never complain but only find ever more ingenious ways to outmaneuver the throng. Like climbing up the grapevine.

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And I’ve read you earn your keep just about everywhere you are planted, even if only for one summer. You’re getting quite the reputation for containers too, but it’s straight into the garden for you here.
(You are so good that buying the new, darker-leaved ‘Breathless Blush’ seemed a safe bet. How is it possible to create such a weakling from you?!)

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I’ve also read that some of your tribe are considered weedy. (E. dulcis ‘Chameleon,’ you may see yourself in this description. I’ve read about your antics elsewhere, although you despise zone 10.)
None are weedy for me, not even E. characias. Just a few seedlings I’m always grateful to have.

Euphorbia seguieriana ssp. niciciana, Siberian Spurge, has colonized bare spots in the gravel garden but never infiltrates into other plants. But I can’t remember when you last flowered. Have you ever flowered? Definitely not a euphorbia to be let loose in good garden conditions, but I appreciate the lushness you bring to the spiky growers around you.

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I know how euphorbias will shine all winter with hellebores and grasses, so I’ve been quietly slipping you in amidst the waning summer party. Euphorbia ‘Silver Swan.’
(Your kin, the ‘Tasmanian Tiger’ was no tiger in my garden.)

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Your bracts decorate the garden for ages, stippling patterns amongst leaves like the nubby textures from beads on plain 50’s sweaters.

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My love always swells for euphorbia in late summer and winter. Spring and summer too. Nonstop euphorbia love.

Posted in Plant Portraits | Tagged , , , , | 7 Comments

Fried Cannoli & The Banyan Tree

My aunts and cousins called my mom, who called me. Our bakery was back in business after what turned out to be just a brief hiatus of a couple years. The owner decided early retirement was not the answer, reopened his bakery at a new location, and started cranking out his Italian family recipes again. All is well with the world once more. The shelves were empty but for trays and trays of the house favorite, cannoli, by the time I got there mid-afternoon, yet there was still a long line at the door.

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The bakery is 3/4 of the way to the South Coast Botanic Garden, which I’ve been meaning to pay a visit ever since the July issue of Pacific Horticulture profiled the SCBG and mentioned their enormous banyan tree grove of Moreton Bay Figs, Ficus macrophylla, tucked deep into the garden, unbeknownst to me. The last time I visited the SCBG I had small kids in tow, and no wonder I never consulted their map or perused their garden in any kind of orderly fashion. Today’s agenda, the bakery reopening coupled with a visit to the SCBG, was sliding into place like beads on a string.

Banyan trees have the barked equivalent of “washboard ab’s,” seriouslycut. Sinuously sculptural. Latent arboreal lust surges forth at the sight of these towering, beautifully muscled giants that fling their enormous branches low and horizontal and ripple their massive roots through the forest floor like sea serpents.

Walking amongst a grove of these leviathans was worth the trip alone, but the cactus and succulent garden was much better than I remembered too. It was a hot, solitary, dusty tramp over pathways that dipped and billowed from methane settlement, this whole site being former landfill. What bliss. Though I did eventually bump into a film crew deep in the garden, which broke the spell just a little.

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Plant labeling was overall very good. A botanic garden is bound to have much of interest, even in mid-August, and the SCBG didn’t disappoint.

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Dicliptera suberecta, the Uruguayan Firecracker Plant. A beautiful, drought-tolerant subshrub, but too much for my small garden to handle. Here it has the room it needs to sprawl.

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A shrubby native euphorbia, E. xantii, Baja Spurge, billowing like baby’s breath in the cactus garden.

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I’m guessing this bromeliad winding around the base of this palm is an aechmea, possibly A. recurvata, but no name card for this one.

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Detail of an agave labeled A. toumeyana, a giant, bumpy, whiskery agave approximately 4×6. Plant Delights describes this agave’s habit as forming “a splendid tight colony resembling overweight hedgehogs at a feeding trough.” Zone 7-9. The variety Agave toumeyana var. bella is supposedly more compact, growing as a singleton rather than a herd of hedgehogs.

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Pumpkin. By this time, it occurs to me that sitting on the passenger seat of a closed-up car in the hot sun these past two hours might not be the best thing for my cannolis.

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So I headed for the exit, but was waylaid by lush vines of Dolichos lablab. (My one dolichos at home has withered away this August.)

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Scent was pouring out of this double datura, the jimson weed, perfuming quite a large area, making it impossible to leave.

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I did put the windshield shade up after all, so the cannolis were probably fine.

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I didn’t know it, but my visit coincided with their dahlia festival. Where is that exit anyway?

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The exit now in sight, but there’s a little fuchsia dell just off the gift store. Lots of shrubby species fuchsias, most of them labeled mite-resistant, though this one lacked ID.

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Almost there, but then there’s this beautiful shrub, spotted in a parking lot median as I was leaving. The car just in sight, cannolis probably dripping off the seat by now, but this shrub had to be investigated. Amazingly fresh looking for August. Nasturtium-like flowers, bi-lobed leaves. Maybe a bauhinia? Very graceful, scandent habit. A little Internet research later brought up Bauhinia galpinii, The Red Orchid Bush, a sprawler to over 20 feet.

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To paraphrase The Godfather (“Leave the gun. Take the cannoli“), it was past time to leave the banyan and take the cannoli, but I’m thrilled to have rediscovered the SCBG.
Next time the cannolis are coming inside for a picnic.

Posted in agaves, woody lilies, garden visit | Tagged , , , , , , | 8 Comments