Yesterday’s nursery jaunt included Roger’s Garden in Newport Beach, where I found the New Zealander of the title, Cassinia fulvida, and Village Nursery in Huntington Beach. Driving empty freeways sounds like a great time, but it eerily underscores how aberrant this moment is in the life of a formerly bustling metropolis.
there it is — unassuming, hebe-like Cassinia fulvida, the Golden Cottonwood, reminiscent in leaf and stem of another twiggy New Zealander, ozothamnus
Roger’s seems to have methodically removed most of their heroic succulent display plantings filled with statement agaves and aloes in favor of blowsier, bloomier plantings with admonitions on signage to plant pollinator gardens. I get the outreach effort for pollinators but still miss the agaves…why can’t we have both sculptural and pollinator-friendly plantings? I suppose it’s difficult for staff to change up the plantings working around spiky plants, not to mention the water needs being asymmetrical as far as keeping the blooming stuff going…
Cassinia fulvida, ultimate height 4-6′, width 6-8′ — one will be too big for the space allotted and I bought two! That’s lockdown shopping for you.Kiwi plants are fab. Another New Zealander planted earlier in the year to replace a grevillea, Lophomyrtus x ralphii ‘Sundae’ on the rightWith Sideritis oroteneriffae, some annual coreopsis, ‘Druett’s Variegated’ silene which spent last year in potsI’ve been attracted to lophomyrtus for years and have mostly grown dark-leaved varietiesA better look at Coreopsis tinctoria ‘Tiger Stripes’ breaking into bloom with Aloe camperi and ‘Red Planet’ cordyline. Orange bloom against the garage wall is the vine Senecio confusus. Marty just added another hose bib at the back of the office/garage — a “watershed” moment for me. No more dragging hoses to reach the back of the garden and potting area.love the green tips on aloe budsSenecio confusus trained on fishing line to run under the eaves, the stems fastened with plastic clips used for training tomato plants. Behind the funnel of pitcher plants on the left is Salvia mexicanaunknown cultivar of Salvia mexicana growing like gangbustersstrappy-leaved silvery astelia in the stock tank is another New Zealander. In the ground on the left is the False Aralia, Dizygotheca Elegantissima aka Schefflera elegantissima, which is doing surprisingly well in front of the cypresses. The False Aralia is from New Caledonia.
At Village Nursery I found some fun things to add to the shady stock tank in front of the lemon cypresses. I’ve been using this end of the stock tank to throw in bromeliad pups, so removed a bunch and planted Astilbe ‘White Gloria’ and a Blue Bear’s Paw fern Polypodium (Phlebodium) aureum. As I mentioned last week, a container here with Hoja Santa (Piper auritum) and the False Aralia was moved out, with the Hoja Santa planted under the Chinese Fringe Tree and the False Aralia planted in the ground just about where it lived in the container, so its light exposure conditions didn’t change.
Astilbe ‘White Gloria,’ one gallon planted in the stock tank and another in the ground adjacent. Not having much experience with astilbe, I’m not sure the one in the ground will manage in the dryish soil. The nurseryman said astilbe come back every year for him and he looooves them.blue fronds of Phlebodium aureum areolatum.
I’m sure there’s other New Zealanders I’ve left out. But meanwhile, elsewhere in the garden…
To the right of the chair, the white pot is filled with Cosmos ‘Xanthos.’ Roger’s had bushy six-packs of it, while the ones I started from seed a few months ago are still only an inch high — an insurance policy. This view was taken from the outpost on top of the laundry shed, where I spend an hour or so reading most afternoonsHiding among the grasses is a clump of Agapanthus ‘Indigo Frost’ planted last year, with seven buds!the nicotiana seeding against the house turned out to be a coveted lime greenthe nicotiana blooms directly under a wall planter by Potted that was recently moved here. The same Sticks on Fire has survived six years in the metal pocket.
The dwarf breadseed poppies (Papaver setigerum) are just about over, but there’s still lots to keep this guy busy. Hope you’re having a good week! Take care.
ah, the sun lovers, which include this self-sowing annual, Orlaya grandiflora, the Minoan lace from Crete
So you’re planting and planting your little garden and having the best time, but because your undisciplined and eclectic taste runs to every kind and type of green life, from ground hugging to tree size, inevitably you wake up one morning and wonder:
Where did the sunlight go?
sun lover: I brought back a bad case of Rocky Mountain Penstemon Fever from the trip to Denver last year. This is Penstemon superbus in its first summer, so the big test will be how much water it needs to survive to autumn
Full sun, half sun, part sun, morning sun, mid-day sun, afternoon sun, bright sun, reflected sun, harsh sun, cool sun — the latter is probably what best describes dappled light. Like the number of words Eskimos have for snow, zone 10 gardens care deeply about degrees of sunlight.
sun lover: the last dyckia in the garden is potted, just one rosette of the wide-leaved D. platyphylla, with orange flowers so delectable I could nibble them. But truthfully, with dyckias, it’s more their body-piercing armor, ankle-biting ways, and rapidly colonizing propensities that banished them to containers, not a lack of available sunsun lovers: the ‘Diamond Frost’ euphorbia insinuates itself in the garden and around pots in a way I doubt I could duplicate by design — some plants in the garden work out these interesting arrangements without any assistance from the gardener at all
About that loss of full-day sun. There’s no need to panic, especially in Southern California, where at our latitude summer sun can be especially punishing. And I still have plenty of full sun for the plants that can handle it. But for a good quarter of the garden at least, it’s a dappled life now.
the dappled life: I planted a few Kniphofia thomsonii but only one managed to push a bloom through the dense planting of sesleria, agapanthus, tulbaghia, all interwoven with tetrapanax roots. The other kniphofia clumps are still visible and thickening up, so maybe they’ll figure it out. The grass is Stipa ichu, the Peruvian Feather Grass, mild-mannered relative of the weedy Mexican Feather Grass and slightly taller. But they both sway and dance and ham it up when backlit. I’ve grown it before but now have given it more sun, because it will flop in too much shade. The twisted arms like it’s been harpooned belong to a tormented Aloe ferox hybrid (‘Lavaflame’?). I vacillate over yanking it but it’s developing an interesting presence and become quite the character.
And it turns out this gentler version of Southern Californian sunlight suits a lot of plants just fine. It’s not exactly shade gardening though, because full sun does break in throughout the day.
In my back garden, the biggest reduction in sunlight starts at the east fence, where the lemon cypresses (Cupressus macrocarpa ‘Citriodora’) now soar over 25 feet and Acacia baileyana ‘Purpurea’ holds the corner. Morning light does filter through in varying intensities. Aloes still bloom here if planted where the morning sun is strongest and where the afternoon sun can slide in too. Amicia zygomeris loves it here, as does Plectranthus argentatus, bromeliads, sesleria. The new ‘Indian Summer’ alstroemeria have been tucked in here, so we’ll see if they get enough sun to bloom well. It’s dawned on me rather late in life that herbaceous stuff, grassy stuff, not sculptural evergreen succulents, are preferable for conditions under trees that rain down a steady stream of debris. And whether the tree is evergreen or deciduous, they all drop something.
The back corner of the east fence gets full morning light and can grow sun lovers like alstroemeria, agave, castor bean, even the Coulter bush — the problem is more one of shallow soil from tree roots. But there are deep pockets to plant in if you dig around for them. There’s a young African spear lily, Doryanthes palmeri, in the far corner getting plenty of sun to grow too.the stock tank hides the legs of the lemon cypresses and provides enough root run for the astelia and bromeliads that handle this dappled light so well. Root-crowded soil is one of the trickier aspects of gardening near trees, but there are ways around that too (containers!) Variegated agaves appreciate something less than full-day sun too.A strong blast of afternoon sun does sneak in here, and Piper auritum was recently moved to avoid the daily wilting Hoya Santa, Piper auritum, a little beat up just after the move under the Chinese Fringe Tree, Chionanthus retusus. Fatsia japonica ‘Camouflage’ was also moved here.
I think I mentioned recently how I would never never underplant the Chinese fringe tree again. It’s a debris monster, so I’ve opted to sweep its flowers, berries, leaves and twiggy bits back under its canopy, letting it sheet compost in place, with nothing planted to obstruct the relentless cleanup. But then this potted Hoya Santa (Piper auritum) was wilting dreadfully in the afternoon sun hitting the base of the lemon cypresses, and I couldn’t face another summer keeping it hydrated. I wasn’t ready to part with it, because I love the big coarse leaves that resemble a brunnera on steroids. Studying my options, it dawned on me that big-leaved plants with leafy skirts that could be swept under wouldn’t have the same issues as small, low-growing plants constantly getting their crowns smothered in debris. Once the realization hit, I planted the Hoya Santa pronto into this gentler light and loved the results so much that I also released a Fatsia japonica ‘Camouflage’ from its container to grow here as well.
The Chinese fringe tree accommodates and shelters quite a range of plants, hanging from its branches and now at its base, letting enough light through for them to flourish but not get scalded by summer sun. Epiphyllum guatamalense monstrosa arrived via mail order last week and has been tucked into a Dustin Gimbel funnel planter hung from a branch.the Coastal Woollybush, Adenanthos sericeus, deserves mention for hoisting itself over 10 feet high and transforming into a shimmering column of silver, with a thick horizontal branch at ground level filling out and balancing the weight. The purple leaf acacia has a high and light canopy that allows in plenty of sunlight. But if the woollybush hadn’t obtained a head start before the tree grew to size, I doubt it would have been able to reach the sun like it has.potted Hedychium ‘Tara’ moved in at the base of Sonchus palmensis. Lomandra ‘Platinum Beauty’ has been combed in this odd way to give some budding Brodiaea ‘Babylon’ enough light to bloom
So many plants I love and grow, like the sow thistles from the Canary Islands and melianthus to name a couple that quickly come to mind, dislike full afternoon sun and complain by wilting when they get it.
Tree-size Euphorbia tirucalli with its head in all-day sun is a handy trellis for a clambering fatshedera that prefers shadier digs. The pencil cactus is great in a large container because it can stand some neglect, and the fatshedera works really well in dry shade, as does the Fatsia japonica ‘Spider’s Web’ on the right and assorted foxtail agaves, Tradescantia sillamontana, and other odds and ends
Mediating sunlight opens up all sorts of interesting possibilities and allows for growing a really wide range of plants.
Although fuzzy and silver, Tradescantia sillamontana prefers a little protection from afternoon sunTwo days and no bathers yet. Patience! It takes a while for birds to build trust with a bird bath and its placement
And the shrubs and trees that tame the sun also bring one of the most amazing garden features of all — birds. It is astonishing to see what wings in throughout the day. Just like us, birds crave both an open prospect and refuge, with some cover nearby if a hawk should scan the garden, and placing a bird bath in proximity to both shelter and a view is key to success. I’ve been beating myself up for dawdling in choosing a birdbath, but I don’t want to bring in a clunky, oversized monolithic white elephant I’ll regret in a couple months then not be able to move and keep clean (then in despair plant up in a dog’s breakfast assortment of succulents, etc etc.) I saw this sleek bird bath by CB2, and nearly pulled the trigger, but ultimately opted to use the little side table for now.
Playing with the light is one of the most absorbing aspects of making a garden. And this little garden, now over 30 years old, really keeps planting interesting as it evolves, bringing increasing complexities of light to exploit.
With demoralizing chaos at the federal level continuing unabated, it’s incredibly reassuring to experience the pragmatic approaches deployed locally. Let’s just take for an example, oh, I dunno — shopping for plants, for instance.
Alstroemeria ‘Indian Summer’ — the plummy, dusky leaves really are a game changer in Peruvian lilies
I’ve been shopping every couple weeks at International Garden & Floral Design Center near LAX and finding some nice things there — more verbascums, the real-deal, non-impostor Penstemon ‘Sour Grapes,’ Leucospermum ‘Brandi.’ Yesterday I checked out H&H on Lakewood Blvd. near the 91, and found the Alstroemeria ‘Indian Summer’ that I was this close to mail-ordering. Like with the penstemons, I bought two one-gallons already in bloom. A couple of indirect influences the coronavirus has had on the garden: more than the usual impatience for results coupled with the knowledge that I’ll be home this summer to water in spring plantings. As a general rule, fall is always touted as the best time to plant for Southern California, but then there will always be exceptions, and this is most definitely such a time.
Penstemon ‘Sour Grapes’ — a cultivar that goes way back to the UK garden of Margery Fish at East Lambrook Manor
International Nursery is enormous, so social distancing is easy. They’ve rerouted access to the cash register, but that’s about the only change I could see, other than the decals on the ground to indicate safe distance when waiting in line. H&H is another large, power line-easement operation, and they had an employee at the gate who lets a certain number of cars in; beyond that number, it’s a no-go and the gate is shut. I parked up the street and walked in. When ready to leave, I asked if I could take the cart filled with plants down the street, load the car, and then return it; if I left my driver’s license, not a problem. Safe, efficient, sensible solutions, and very much appreciated.
Agave xylonacantha ‘Frostbite’ — I’ve not seen this offered local before in an affordable size, so I was almost glad to be wearing a mask when my eyes lit on it because my face was probably making all kinds of happy goofy expressions.
Walking over acres while looking at plants is a huge stress reliever. I’ve shopped at the enormous grounds at Village Nursery in Huntington Beach too. And now that Annie’s Annuals has temporarily shut down mail order due to an overwhelming response, International is a nice local option for her plant offerings, especially summer annuals.
As spring stuff fills in, some rescues have to be undertaken so treasures don’t get swamped, like Echeveria agavoides ‘Ebony’ dug out of the ground and repotted. And it definitely could use more sun to darken the tips.
The challenge in planting and shuffling things in late April is avoiding damage to the rest of the burgeoning garden. I’ve knocked a few buds off, but no real catastrophes. This morning I pulled out a rangy Euphorbia mauritanica that never grew into the tight bun I’d been hoping for. An Aloe ‘Moonglow’ in too much shade got that full sun spot. I chose this euphorbia for a stock tank in Mitch’s parkway, where in much harsher circumstances it’s achieved impressively tight cushions that are now beginning to throw acid-yellow flowers, so at least I can admire it at its best there. (A stock tank on gravel for the parkway turned out to be the right idea now that a neighbor with very poor dog etiquette lets his Great Dane wander over for bathroom breaks. Plants in the ground would never survive the onslaught.)
spring means oxalis is into everything
The creeping fig, Ficus pumila, on the back wall has been cut back, the bocconia thinned of old, woody growth, the Mexican root beer plant, Piper auritum, moved out of afternoon sun — all big projects I doubt I’d undertake unless housebound. I’ve wall-papered a wooden screen with this and started inquiries to have the east gate fabricated — not bad for a notorious procrastinator.
elongating bloom spike on biennial Verbascum olympicum. I’ve just planted a few V. bombyciferum ‘Arctic Summer’ from Internationalalways a surprise when bromeliads do this — Bilbergia ‘Violetta’Sonchus palmensis building up flowering architectureSo far the plan to train the Passiflora vitifolia ‘Scarlet Flame’ up the pergola support behind the sonchus and then across horizontally is working out nicely. (I no longer plant sonchus in the ground because they grow fast and big and then increasingly shabby over the summer. I think this one has rooted through the drainhole though.) Up…Up…And over! Fishing line is my new best friend for training vines. There’s a Mexican Flame Vine, Senecio confusus, similarly trained across the eaves of the garage/office, just starting to bud. The passiflora is in the ground, the flame vine in a large container.Nicotiana mutabilis loves the dappled shade at the edge of the canopy of the purple fernleaf acacia. It quickly achieved over 5 feet in height, and now side branches are growing to bulk up its girth. I picked up these nicotiana local under Annie’s Annuals label at International NurseryAloe camperi’s bloom timing coincides nicely with other spring flowersgrowth of summer annuals like this coreopsis I mail-ordered from Annie’s Annuals has leapt forward now that days are warmer. This heat wave is driving everyone crazy because the beaches are closed — well, some beaches, anyway; specifically, Los Angeles and San Diego beaches are closed, Orange County and Ventura County beaches are open.Dianthus ‘Single Black’ opened this week, along with Orlaya grandiflora and Centranthus lecoquiiBaja Spurge, Euphorbia xanti, is another one I keep potted because it can turn into an unmanageable thicket in the ground. This one survived in a pot on rain alone and still managed to bloom, so it was brought off the potting bench and plunked into the garden
I hope you’re likewise finding some room to maneuver in the margins of your local guidelines, catching up on projects, and supporting businesses as they find a way forward. Who knows, maybe we’ll really live large and order some takeout this week….stay safe!
I knew for the past year or so that the Los Angeles Times would eventually publish an article on the Glatstein family’s Long Beach garden designed by ceramicist Dustin Gimbel a few years back. Even so, the March 31, 2020 appearance of “In turbulent times, a magical art-filled garden offers solace,” by Lisa Boone, managed to catch me off guard. I’d seen these photos by Mitch not long after it was finished, so I knew the layout and incredible detail work by Dustin, but the story of the making of a garden told in hindsight, at a time when we’re in the teeth of a pandemic, can’t help but feel epic and visionary. Boone’s choice to frame the garden against this backdrop was the perfect mechanism for exploring what this garden means to the Glatsteins and why someone would pour their creative energy into designing such a place. In the context of these first months of 2020, a garden naturally assumes the level of importance and can be discussed with the same design enthusiasm as any domestic space, albeit one where kids and ducks roam freely, animated by a revolving cast of wildlife. It’s a long, lush piece with lots of detail and depth, one I know you’ll enjoy. Much has grown in since these pictures, new projects have been undertaken, sheltering in place has been decreed, and the garden absorbs all of it with utter grace. It’s a wonderful piece of writing about a project that gives new life to the words “dream team”; the clients and designer sharing the same dream of what a garden can be and mean for a family in a busy neighborhood, in both happy and anxious times — playful, sculptural, serene, stimulating, filled with interest for the plantsman (Jeremy), and brimming with daily wonders for the kids. Have a look at these old photos by Mitch to find your way around, but be sure to read the article which includes lots of recent photos as well as some “before” photos too.
“We wanted something that was beautiful and would be an adventure for the kids,” Glatstein said. “We wanted to invest in a work of art.” LA Times “In Turbulent Times…”
The Chinese Fringe Tree is in a full-on blizzard of blooms
I’ve decided I’ve got to cut back on baking — that’s just not sustainable for this unforeseeable, housebound future. So today I hope to tackle the creeping fig on the back wall, which has footage of overgrowth and is also being colonized by the dreaded asparagus fern. It’s nowhere near as satisfying a task as filling the house with warmth and delicious aromas, but much more necessary. Personally, what’s essential and nonessential gets a little blurry. More cake? Nonessential. More plants? Obviously essential. Like everyone else with a garden or a house with windows (or a bunker with grow lights), I’m on a ferocious mail-order tear, and have scoured U.S. nurseries for a source of Eryngium guatamalense to no avail — if you know of one, drop me a line! From photos I’ve seen, that eryngium looks pretty essential to me. And what about those dreams? Daytime has its own hushed, dream-like quality, while nighttime dreams have suddenly become novelistic in detail. I’m also getting back to long walks, suitably masked of course, and finding some lovely garden scenes all over town. (I can’t carry the big camera so it’s all for Instagram.) Here’s some of the blooms that are washing over the back garden at the moment.
lots of the brick red nicotiana turned up this spring, not so much the white and lime greenthe nicotiana reseeds in light shade as well as full sunPapaver setigerum opened up those tangerine sherbert booms this week — must stop making food analogies!I haven’t weeded out this big nicotiana rosette against the house, hoping for lime greenThe pelargonium corner is adding lots of little blooms that reward close inspection like Pelargonium ‘Pomona’I can always find a couple seedlings of Solanum pyracanthum to pot uppoppies love to reseed into the bricks and can be carefully pried out when small with a butter knife for replanting — hoping these named varieties get the memo: ‘Apricot Chiffon,’ Golden Chiffon,’ ‘Red Chief’Salvia ‘Big Pink’ still at least a couple weeks away from full bloom
The creeping fig wall, Ficus pumila, is just behind the bocconia and nearly overwhelming the narrow access path. It has everything — nasty sap, dust enough to provoke coughing jags that will worry the neighbors, huge amounts of green debris to deal with later. Before I hunt for the clippers, I’ll leave you with four choice words: One-Bowl Pound Cake.
More posts on what’s blooming this April can be found on May Dreams Gardens.
A quick tour around the back garden this early April morning.
There it is!
A tidal surge of spring growth is washing up on the gravel under the pergola. It’s a small-garden microcosm and abridged version of a long, undulating path with plants billowing and spilling onto gravel, one of my favorite spring sights. Good thing the plants and I have no need to practice social distancing. Salvia microphylla ‘Big Pink,’ just lightly starting to bloom, is the big plant sprawling almost to the bricks, approximately 3X3′ at the moment, which very soon will be enveloping the legs of the chair — no big deal. There’s plenty of other places to sit.
Hello poppythis side table used to hold soaps and salts in the bath house. I think I prefer rotating plants on it under the pergola, pressed on all sides by poppies and salvias. The bath house I share with the parakeet got a spring cleaning and is outfitted with candles and stuff to read, now that I’ve rediscovered the slow pleasures of a hot baththe girth of the pelargonium corner continues to expand That agave believe it or not is an americana, about a ten-year-old pup that doesn’t offset, very uncharacteristically slow. I’m guessing it’s ‘Mediopicta Aurea’ — doesn’t like a lot of sun. Such lack of vigor is very unamericana-ishReseeding Cerinthe major and Agave ‘Dragon Toes’with some ixia thrown inPretty sure both kinds are from Annie’s Annuals — creamy ‘Buttercup’ and this one, ‘Venus’the window box of salvias and copper canyon daisies is starting to take up a little too much porch spaceA pot of California poppies in sunset shades will have to stand in for a superbloommore kangaroo paws — planted this fall/winter, ‘Regal Velvet’ took no time to settle in and keeps throwing bloom stalks. I think it’s up to ten now. Anigozanthos ‘Harmony’ is getting reintroduced to the garden, from 4-inch potsPitchers stretching higher and higherIn the southeast corner, under the fernleaf acacia, a two-year-old ‘New Zealand Purple’ castor bean is finally bulking up and leaning on Agave americana var. striata’ for support — they make a nice couple!Coulter Bush, now known as Hymenolepis crithmifolia, and Plectranthus argentatus also grow under the fernleaf acaciain the front of the house, new growth on Fatsia japonica ‘Spider’s Web’ is very similar in color to new growth on the rice paper plantA Salvia mexicana, a passiflora, and a grevillea are most definitely not maintaining social distancing‘Flying V’ passionflower has wandered from the garden and headed for the roof eaves of the garage/office — this could be incredible or disastrous, possibly both at the same time Who says I’m obsessively counting buds?
Big plan for the day is to drag the sewing machine down from the attic, see if it still works, and hunt around for suitable fabric for face masks. Then I’ll probably grab The Old Patagonian Express by Paul Theroux to read in the lookout over the laundry shed. Enjoy your day and indulge your every whim — within social distancing limits. Forward!
As of today, March 30, 2020, in Southern California we can still walk our neighborhoods, if not the parks, trails, and beaches, and that is no small comfort. Mitch’s base during this “safer at home” period has been Hollywood, and he took some photos of a garden that he visits regularly on daily walks, one the locals know as the Blue Garden. Poppies, native and somniferum varieties, irises, scarlet flax, larkspur, phlomis, brugmansia, and dozens and dozens of blue bottles can easily turn a short walk into the highlight of the day, even if done solo or keeping a distance of 6 feet apart. Can gardens be heroes too? I think so.
Mitch sent along this note: There are “secret” public steps that run along the vertical length of this garden, so everyone in the neighborhood has a relationship with it. The garden is experienced on those steps, in the rhythm and timing that it takes a human to climb stairs, and at that speed the frequency and composition of blue glass is a knockout.
Everyone knows the place as the Blue Garden. But the speed & isolating frames of photography run opposite to the human experience in this case — in my images, it looks like there are a few blue items sprinkled across terraces lackadaisically, when in reality as you experience the installation on foot, the piercing blue is overwhelming.
There’s a couple of Ty Nant imported mineral waters, more than a few Sky Vodka liters, swanky olive oil, Absolut Vodka for sure, but no Sapphire gin — it’s the wrong hue.
There’s a resolute carpet of dymondia, poppies reseeding through railroad ties, rebar arbors, a few pendulous daturas — it’s a rich detonation of spring.
Someone has been generous with color and seed catalog purchases for years.
We photographed with Velvia 50 because that’s what’s necessary under quarantine. Bombastic saturation, irresponsible color fidelity, wild drunken cangiantismo. We need this.
The delight of walking through a landscape with a camera at magic hour after so many days indoors simmering beans cannot be overstated.
Agave ‘Jaws’ needs careful handling. I sawed off a couple leaves from the base this week that were crushing Yucca rostrata and now type with bandaided fingers.
Since I greedily planted the long, narrow front garden smack up against the fence that separates us from legions of parked cars and noisy, fast-moving traffic, it’s difficult to maneuver around for photos (and maintenance). Also, a lot of toothy customers are packed in these close quarters, like the fearsome ‘Jaws,’ and Furcraea macdougalii. I constantly vacillate between privacy and a more streamlined garden that’s visually open to my neighbors. The west end closer to the driveway is unhedged, but this eastern end is like a little green cloister.
Looking east at a hedge of ‘Little Ollie’ “dwarf” olives (now upwards of 9 feet!) Curving pathway leads to east patio. The driveway is behind us to the west, past Acacia podalyrifolia.
The cotyledon I wrote about earlier in the week is in the front garden, and a young tree aloe ‘Hercules,’ and a manzanita ‘Louis Edmonds,’ and a Nolina nelsonii, various agaves, Graptoveria ‘Fred Ives’ — it’s a mishmash of a garden. The main criteria for a plant’s inclusion is, once established, the ability to go completely summer dry.
trunk of the triangle palm and its proximity to the house from 2010
And towering 20 feet over it all, fairly close to the house, is the triangle palm, Dypsis decaryi. I’ve noticed that when there isn’t a clear viewpoint or sightline into a space, planting is less about design than a collector’s free-for-all.
In March reseeding Erodium pelargoniflorum carpets the ground around the succulents — you can see the little white flowers cozying up to ‘Jaws’ in the first photo. This annual erodium completely dies out when the soil dries out in summer.
From April 2014 — a bulb with tall white flowers like a giant snowdrop, Albuca maxima, has also lightly seeded among the erodium and a few stalks are budding up for bloom this yearAloe ‘Hercules’ and Furcraea macdougallii This northern boundary is fence and boxwood. Eastern boundary is a hedge of ‘Little Ollies’ Even though the garden is loaded with spikes, I draw the line at planting opuntias in the ground.
The 3-foot wooden fence is backed on the sidewalk side by a 7-foot high box hedge — a dodge to get around fence height ordinances. I’ve always hated this fence/hedge arrangement, and as of a month ago I desperately wanted it gone — but a month of sheltering in place has changed my mind again. For one thing, so many birds and small mammals love these hedges — to nest in, to duck into when danger threatens. And both the boxwood and olives are fantastic for what turns into a very dry summer garden — the olives being far more attractive than the box, which gets patchy and thin but usually recovers with winter rain. And then there’s that investment in time to grow the hedges and their abilities as sound buffers, carbon sinks, and particulate sponges to consider. And lately I can re-appreciate the psychological distance they provide too. For now, I think the hedges are winning this very old argument.
In 2010 the street was more visible — as was the smoke tree in the corner! “The drought-tolerant boxwood hedge was a useful means of ‘greening’ up the front of the house to hide the minor revolutionary act of taking out the lawn we inherited with the house many years ago, when such an act drew lots of raised eyebrows.”From 2010 — notice how I always photograph low to avoid the choppy fence/hedge backdrop.In April 2010 with Papaver rupifragrum in bloom before the big agaves moved inAgave guadalajarana in 2011April 2012 — poppies with Mr. Ripple looming in the distanceFrom 2013 with phormiums, gastrolobium and ‘Blue Glow’ agavesIn 2015 with Agave ‘Mr. Ripple’ whose increasing bulk was making a nightmare out of clipping the dwarf olives and even using the path. (Mr. Ripple was removed in July 2015)
But planting and experimenting with even an awkward bit of ground is enormous fun — a leucospermum and Acanthus spinosus were planted just yesterday.
Acanthus spinosus planted 3/27/20 near the pearl acaciaPearl Acacia January 2016 (Acacia podalyrifolia) This tree draws a lot of comments and questions as to its identity
For more garden tours, both front and back, although the Theodore Payne Native Plant Garden Tour had to be canceled this weekend, they had the genius idea to share it online — and you can check it out here.
Leaving the bizarro world aside for the moment, and desperately clinging to the bright side, at least this unusual March has been a good month for rain in Los Angeles. We’re just about an inch below average, which is great for the spring garden tours (if they hadn’t been cancelled…)
Cotyledon orbiculata var. flanaganii
In the front garden, this brawny, chunky succulent has taken over a big swath of ground. For now I like having more of the same plant as opposed to an intricate tapestry, but that could change. When it’s in bloom, like now, I especially appreciate the multiple statuesque stems with mop-topped apricot bells.
Cotyledon orbicuata, Pig’s Ear, with rounded leaves for comparison, a great plant in its own right.Also in the front garden, Agave oteroi ‘Lanky Wanky.’ I buried the long, lanky stem, kind of defeating the purpose, but I didn’t care for the snaky growth habit. Weird little thing. Love the blonde teeth that whiten as they age.the blue barrel Ferocactus glaucescens looks like a different cactus after a rainwash This might be my favorite phase of the purple-leaved acacia, when the yellow pompom blooms turn into twisting purple pods. Pelargonium ‘Queen of Hearts’I lost the label, so this is one of my ongoing plant ID projects. Similar to Senecio stapeliiformis except for the flowers and thorns. Also similar to Euphorbia aeruginosa except for lacking typical lime green flowers Edited to add ID by Jeremy: Euphorbia greenwayiAlbuca….wait, wait, I know this one! Albuca corkscrewalis? No, silly! Albuca spiralis — nice when the name describes the plant.Anigozanthos ‘Red Velvet,’ a small-in-stature kangaroo paw planted last spring.
For more plant portraits, a lot of the arboreta and public gardens include What’s in Bloom on their websites — for example, here’s Descanso Gardens.
Continuing in a reflective, “safer at home” mood, from the AGO archives, these would be plants that got away for various reasons — grew too large, grew too slow, grew in a spot I needed for something new, but all of which are fabulous constructs and sorely missed. And now I find they are difficult to replace. Yes, seed might be available somewhere in the world, but I’ve often found that when plants are rare and scarce it’s for a simple reason — they are difficult to propagate. I can get some annuals to grow from seed, but difficult stuff? My patience and skills aren’t really up to the task. If you find any of these plants along your zone 10 plant acquisition routes, I can assure you they are interesting characters to grow and observe.
Solanum marginatum, the extremely poisonous White-Margined Nightshade from northeast Africa. Grew to a beamy 4X4′ — and has thorns. Dangerous beauty. (3/25/20 Edited to add that after an office purge, seeds were found in a cork-stoppered glass tube, labeled 2012, sown in sterile potting soil, and something has germinated!)Argemone munita — a CA native with matilija poppy-like flowers, this one got away when a nearby Euphorbia cotinifolia tree crashed down on itLimonium peregrinum — a South African sea lavender that’s very, very slow and was presumably overwhelmed by nearby plants — or my impatienceBuddleia ‘Silver Anniversary’ — I think this smallish, sterile hybrid is still available. It too had its moment like other trendy silver plants Stachys ‘Bello Grigio’ and Senecio candidans ‘Angel Wings.’ Wonderful felted, silvery presence. With Geranium ‘Ann Folkard’ which Robin Parer pointed out recently used to have chartreuse leaves and now is more often sold with medium green leaves. What’s up with that?Geranium maderense ‘Alba’ – biennials can be tricky to fit into a small garden’s schedule, especially those that grow as big as large tumbleweeds. There were seedlings from this blooming event for years that I could never quite find the room to grow…and then there were no more.Bought as Brachysema praemorsum ‘Bronze Butterfly,’ now filed under gastrolobium. A shrubby Australian that flourished in the front gravel garden for over a decade, including during a lengthy drought. I know I must have deliberately removed it when reworking the planting — but what a good plant!
And then there was that unnamed chartreuse, crinkly-leaved verbascum, and the willowy Euphorbia ceratocarpa…
I’m convinced that plant and garden people have deep inner resources, but even so, please take care…and don’t stop planting!
