weekend plans

 photo C26T2014.jpg

Any big plans this weekend? We’re promised some rain, so it won’t be warm enough for pool parties.

 photo C26T1708.jpg

I’m meeting up with a friend this Sunday at the Huntington. While she’s traveling in Southern California, she’ll be visiting another garden about 100 miles north of Los Angeles. MB Maher took these photos there about ten years ago.

 photo C26T1906.jpg

Stumped?

 photo C26T1927.jpg

Hmmm, paths lined with slag glass…there’s a big clue.

 photo C26T2044.jpg

Still stumped?

 photo C26T2029.jpg

Lotusland, created by retired opera singer and garden fabulist Ganna Walska, someone who has been in my thoughts this week that honored extraordinary women on International Women’s Day, March 8, 2018.

 photo C26T1827.jpg

And can you feel the buzz of excitement as we “spring forward” this weekend? At last…

Have a great weekend.

Posted in agaves, woody lilies, artists, garden travel, garden visit, MB Maher, succulents | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

wednesday vignette

 photo IMG_8070-001.jpg

High up on a windy hill, on the site of an old quarry, two people level and plant and build and dig and move rock to mend a gouge in the earth. Each night cautious paws softly explore the smooth, hand-laid paths, releasing the scent of thyme into the night as the garden darkens and the builders briefly rest.

(Kris, you’re not late at all but just in time.)

Posted in clippings, garden visit | 6 Comments

this week in the garden; more silver leaves

 photo P1017211.jpg

Silver plants have sneakily become a new obsession. I should qualify that as unfamiliar silver plants, ones I haven’t grown before, and I’ve grown a lot. (Last year’s silver crush was the Afghan fig ‘Silver Lyre,’ mail-ordered from Cistus, a stunning hardy fig that apparently hates zone 10.) Another silver, Centaurea ragusina, a cliff-dweller from Croatia, was brought home from a local nursery this weekend. (The link to San Marcos Growers is worth a read. 19th century English plantsman William Robinson apparently knew and loved this centaurea, but for whatever obscure reason it’s now rarely seen in cultivation. Reputed to remain dense and not inclined to lankiness.)

 photo P1017212.jpg

Planted late Sunday near a young African Spear Lily, Doryanthes palmeri, and gently settled into the garden by rain Monday night — life is occasionally capable of such sublime, perfectly timed moments. Other silver-leaved plants in the garden this year include 2017 holdover, slightly scraggly Hazardia detonsa, three of the compact form of California buckwheat Eriogonum giganteum, two Salvia pachyphylla, the Senecio palmeri from Santa Barbara Botanic Garden. And that’s not even counting the silvery succulents and greyish lavenders, including the very white ‘Silver Anouk’ lavender. This could all result in a drearily grey, covered-in-volcanic-ash effect come summer or the realization of a textural, intoxicatingly aromatic, light-refracting slice of heaven, able to handle the worst of summer’s heat and drought. All silver-leaved plants, with rare exceptions (the New Zealander celmisias, unfortunately) are capable of a luminous performance in summer gardens precisely because of their leaves’ reflective adaptations to hot, harsh summer conditions. And in any case, it may not be up to me to decide whether I like a garden heavily weighted in silver. Many of these are notoriously touchy and prone to die-off, and the eriogonum even in a compact form may overwhelm this small garden. Still, even though there’s a good chance of failure, aren’t the possibilities exciting?

 photo IMG_8001.jpg

Aloe striata and Euphorbia rigida, with Grevillea ‘King’s Fire’ in bloom in the background. Note the cold-induced blush of pink on the tips of the leaves of potted Agave weberi ‘Arizona Star.’ The blue grassy leaves next to the potted Agave ‘Burnt Burgundy’ ‘Blue Ember’ belong to a dark maroon, single carnation, Dianthus caryophyllus ‘Single Black.’ So excited to see this in bloom for the first time this summer, knock wood. It may flop and sprawl, beg for lots more water than I’m willing to give, or look bizarrely out of place among succulents, but at this moment the potential of tall, merlot-red blooms floating over blue-leaved succulents is pure excitement. And scented to boot.

 photo IMG_8003.jpg

With the miscanthus cut back and moved elsewhere, all sorts of shapes pop into focus; the conebushes and Yucca ‘Blue Boy, for instance. A couple Beschorneria ‘Flamingo Glow’ were reshuffled, and I wasn’t sure how they’d respond to being moved. Both are doing well, one shown here amidst Carex testacea. In the foreground overhanging Agave ‘Mateo’ is Grevillea ‘Moonlight.’

 photo P1010006.jpg

And further back the tawny blooms of Bocconia frutescens, shown here in bud back in December. This shrub is now 9 feet tall and due for a cutback in spring.

 photo IMG_7998.jpg

With the two clumps of pennisetum cut down at the base of the urn, the strong shapes of agaves and yuccas once again come to the fore. Zig-zagging from Yucca ‘Bright Star’ in the foreground, then on the left Agave ‘Ivory Curls,’ jogging to the right again with Agave mitis var. albidior, and in the distance Agave salmiana var. ferox ‘Medio Picta.’ There’s a couple pale yucca in there too, Yucca pallida, two remaining of three originally planted. Planted among these agaves for summer are calamints, now showing new growth after the winter cutback, which will keep the bees busy all summer and still keep things light and airy with good air flow and strong light penetration. Just out of sight behind the urn are the two Salvia pachyphylla and brittlebush/hazardia. The Mojave sage has a forbidding reputation for being difficult in garden conditions, but some beautiful specimens turned up locally, so now I can find out for myself. Some Argemone mexicana sown directly in the garden are germinating here too.

 photo IMG_7992.jpg

That great silver for shade, Plectranthus argentatus, was slipped into a pot growing some cuttings of Sedum dendroideum and Senecio serpens. The senecio, instead of its normally dense habit of growth, elongated in the shade but kept its chalky blue color, spilling out like water. Plant abuse can produce interesting results. Kalanchoe schizophylla temporarily sits on the spindle until I get around to hanging the pot.

 photo IMG_8007.jpg

Squeezed by Melianthus ‘Purple Haze’ all summer but still managing to quietly gain size are a couple of hybrid aloes moved from the front garden a couple years ago. I think the aloe in the foreground is a ferox hybrid; hopefully, it will bloom next winter and clue me in on its identity. It’s forming a nice, solid trunk and should soar over the surrounding plants in another year in this dry jungle under the tetrapanax canopy. The melianthus was relocated near the bocconia to escape full afternoon summer sun, and now the aloes own this little patch and have really gained size. There’s a big clump of Anigozanthos ‘Tequila Sunrise’ here, several phlomis, ballota and the two Lavandula ‘Silver Anouk. I’m hoping it all knits together beautifully in a couple months, spiky rosettes among smallish, silver-leaved shrubs.

And that’s my record of silvers thus far in the garden for 2018 — always subject to change.

Posted in agaves, woody lilies, journal, plant crushes | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Kate Ballis’ Infra Realism; Palm Springs as you’ve never seen it before

 photo Infra.jpg

In a sharp rebuke to my last post about how balmy the weather has been, this unexpected February cold front afflicting the West Coast has me and the cat cooped up in the garden hut/office as close to the space heater as safety allows. The cat snores softly while I gorge on as much political news as sanity allows, which in my case, barring an intervention, is apparently a lot. I know what you’re thinking: But your daytime temps in Southern California are only in the 50s! To which, as a cold weather tenderfoot and native Angeleno, I respond: Yes, but that wind! Through my office I watch as it tosses the giant tetrapanax leaves, bowing them up and down like sycophantic courtiers. (All the political reading must have brought sycophants to mind.) And, no, I didn’t make the trip to Palm Springs for Modernism Week, but hiding indoors from the wind I did find some amazing infrared images by Australian photographer Kate Ballis (via The Fox is Black) that make being a shut-in that much more tolerable.

 photo InfraRealims-4719.jpg

My photos are capturing something otherworldly. We take it for granted that the sky is blue, that it fades into the background, but through infrared everything is subverted and suddenly the sky is pushing against the picture plane. My work, in that sense, straddles science and magic, providing a glimpse into the unknown, making the unseen, seen.” — AnOther, “Reimagining California Landscapes Through Infrared”

 photo InfraRealims-5058.jpg

Ballis originally chose California, particularly Joshua Tree and Palm Springs, for the first instalment of this project because of the way nature and architecture coexist in those areas. ‘In these suburban spaces you have these beautiful mid-century properties that are painted in these subtle pastel hues, so they are almost camouflaged against the surrounding desert. People also spend so much time cultivating their gardens full of succulents, but they end up just disappearing into the landscape.’”– AnOther, “Reimagining California Landscapes Through Infrared”

 photo InfraRealims-3996.jpg

(Richard Neutra’s Kaufmann house)

 photo InfraRealims-4416.jpg

 photo InfraRealims-4867.jpg

 photo InfraRealims--6.jpg

 photo Dreamscape.jpg

Have a great weekend, and stay warm!

Posted in artists, clippings, design, photography | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

friday clippings 2/16/18

 photo IMG_7750.jpg

dark background is the creeping fig wall (Ficus pumila covering 6-foot high CMU wall, extending 2 feet up from the top, for a privacy-enhancing 8-foot wall)

It’s been an incredibly balmy week in Los Angeles, notwithstanding a teasingly insufficient bit of rainfall earlier in the week. Spring seems downright pushy this year, and I did go ahead and cut down the big grasses today, something I usually leave until March. I brought home a couple gallons of Lomandra ‘Platinum Beauty’ last week, and found the marketing information intriguing. Garden writer and designer Susan Morrison on this Sunset Western Garden Collection selection:

It is amazing how many of my clients request ornamental grasses for their garden designs, only to change their minds when they discover most varieties must be cut to the ground in the winter. Enter Platinum Beauty™ Lomandra, an exceptional choice for year-round interest in hot, dry gardens. Although it looks like an ornamental grass, because it is actually a perennial herb, it does not require cutting back and in fact, is virtually maintenance-free.”

Gosh, do people really avoid grasses because of the once-a-year cutback? They’re incredibly vibrant perpetual motion machines for so much of the year, and the handful in my garden take maybe an hour’s work to cut back. BTW, the lomandra is stunning. (In case you’re looking for the connection, these are random photos having nothing to do with what I’m writing about.)

 photo P1010013_1.jpg

Plant people are irredeemable light watchers. To wit — as spring approaches, sunlight is flooding nearly the entire back garden now, so I don’t have to worry about stuff like grevillea, adenanthos and Salvia ‘Desperado’ getting too much winter shade anymore. More watching: a hummingbird is nesting in the creeping fig wall, which Marty just cut back last week, and now the formerly shaggy wall is “high and tight” and ready for spring, and we have an unobstructed view of the ongoing nest building.

 photo P1017166-001.jpg

And I’m completely out of pots now that cuttings and seedlings have filled up every last one available. I keep thinking of a remark I overheard at a recent rare plants sale, at which the plantsman was also selling some ordinary-ish pots: “I already have way too many plants. What I need is more pots.” So true.

 photo P1010002.jpg

I’ve started to update Dates to Remember to keep track of the rush of events that begin to tumble in on top of each other this time of year. (Let me know if there’s a must-see event that’s not listed.)
Modernism Week in Palm Springs is underway, and this Monday, February 19, 2018, Annette and Mary will be presenting “Potted Style: Design Impact with Containers in the Modern Home & Garden.” Coincidentally, my youngest son left his convertible in the driveway for us to babysit (road trip!)

 photo P1017158.jpg

I had lunch in Venice this week, and of course I had to steer the conversation to the topic of long-time resident and landscape artist/local hero Jay Griffith, founding patron of the late great Venice Home & Garden Tour. The mood in Venice is already palpably bittersweet, as this former working class artists’ colony continues its unrecognizable transformation into upscale boho playground for bajillionaires, so it didn’t help to learn that the irascible enfant terrible of Southern Californian landscape design is selling his compound. Last sold in 1993 for $335,000, the 8,207-square-foot lot and its 773-square foot structure is on offer for $3.95 million. Curbed Los Angeles has more info on the sale here.

In honor of the occasion and of the OG Venice resident who championed outdoor design in the eons before the ubiquitous phrase “blurring the line between indoors and outdoors” was coined, here’s some charming career advice via The Human Scale from Mr. Griffith.

Learning from Jay:

1. Listen to what your critics say, and learn the technical details from them.
2. If someone doesn’t like your style, that’s their problem. Style is what separates you from the next joker.
3. Get a good accountant and lawyer. They will save your ass.
4. You do not need to work more than 40 hours a week to be successful.
5. If you are working yourself to misery, you’re doing something wrong.
6. You do not need to be friends with everyone. Burn a bridge every once in a while.
7. When you are successful, tell everyone I taught you all the secrets.
8. It takes a long time to figure out what kind of designer you are. Let it happen.

Photobucket

Maybe we could rub Mr. Griffith’s signature Aladdin’s lamp and transport Venice back 20 years, when a little house and garden wasn’t as unattainable for teachers, firefighters, and chefs as getting a fourth wish from a genie. Have a great weekend.

Posted in agaves, woody lilies, artists, clippings, design, garden travel, journal, MB Maher, pots and containers | Tagged , , , | 8 Comments

a much-delayed visit to Descanso Gardens

I was determined to attend botanist Jeff Chemnick‘s talk on plant exploration in Oaxaca, Mexico, yesterday, 7 p.m., hosted by SoCal Hort, located in an auditorium within spitting distance of Griffith Park. I had just visited his home garden/nursery in an October trip to Santa Barbara and very much wanted to know more about his plant-exploring Mexico Nature Tours.

 photo P1010016_1.jpg

My domesticated Echeveria agavoides will have to do as a stand-in for those depicted in the wild. Jeff’s slide show of previous tours was a who’s who of the leading lights of horticulture, all having what looked like the time of their lives: Carol Bornstein, Bart O’Brien, Randy Baldwin, Greg Starr, Brian Kemble (leading a pack mule). With 30 years of experience exploring Mexico, it looks like you couldn’t find a better tour guide than Jeff, one who knows where to find the often dwindling colonies of astrophytum, mammillaria, echeveria, agave, dioon, furcraea, ferocactus, fouquieria, pseudobombax, etc, etc. Don’t miss his talk if you get the chance.

 photo P1010025.jpg

Also not in habitat but my front garden, Agave titanota ‘Lanky Wanky,’ a selection by Kelly Griffin, another attendee of Jeff’s tours. Titanota shows incredible variability in the wild, which Jeff says sparks vociferous debate among tour-goers, much to his amusement. Jeff is more of a cycad guy, yet finds his group’s varying enthusiasms irresistible, whether it’s orchids, tree dahlias, bromeliads, birds — his knowledge on all that and more is encyclopedic.

As always, driving to the foothills from Long Beach for an evening lecture requires careful strategizing. Even though only 30 miles north, leaving after 4 p.m. from Long Beach would be an insane, gridlocked commute, so I was on the road by 1 p.m. Of course, I would stop by Potted, just down the street on Los Feliz, and then figure out what to do with the remaining four or five hours once I was there. Mary and Annette were in full bustling mode, making Potted even more gorgeous than the last time I visited, which seems impossible and yet they keep doing it over and over. Their experience with plays and film really comes through in staging the shop. Mary helpfully suggested a visit to Descanso Gardens, about 20 minutes away, to kill some hours before the talk. It sounded like a sensible, if not exactly thrilling plan. Frankly, I’ve always had a bit of a bias against Descanso, associating them with predictable displays of dwarf annuals in summer and then their infamous camellia garden extravaganza for winter. You know, that boring public garden stuff. And these strong opinions were formed by….not a single visit. I’ve never visited Descanso, ever. (Though I did write a brief post citing a news article about it here.) And apparently Descanso has changed quite a bit in the decades I’ve been clinging to those strong, untested opinions.

 photo IMG_7843.jpg

Okay, so I was wrong. Very wrong. I wasn’t expecting simple rusticity with Salvia apiana and Verbena lilacina.

 photo IMG_7874.jpg

But it’s not all my fault. I just wasn’t paying attention as Descanso slowly turned the ship around on a mission to save what oaks they could and replant an oak woodland, even if it meant disappointing some of the camellia lovers.

 photo IMG_7851.jpg

Expecting tidy floral displays, instead I found this. Acres of woodland to explore. After years of clearing out eucalyptus and other exotics, in 2014 five acres of oak woodland were opened to the public.

 photo IMG_7858.jpg

Can I walk to the nursery and buy a new camellia? Yes I can,” Sullivan said. “Can I run down to Armstrong and purchase that oak tree? Probably not. This is a naturally occurring oak forest.” — Brian Sullivan — “A Change of Plans at Descanso Gardens

Brian Sullivan left Descanso in 2013 and is now Vice President for Landscape, Gardens, and Outdoor Collections at New York Botanical Garden. He started at Descanso as an untrained gardener.

And not to worry, there are still dozens of camellias just about to burst into full bloom, and a rose garden, a Japanese garden, a new entrance garden almost completed, restoration of historic buildings, and the gift shop had a nifty selection of plants. (Thanks for the well-grown Plectranthus argentatus.) But that oak woodland is really something, a place you’ll want to take your kids and grandkids to for years to come.

So it turned out to be a fine day for a lecture and some unexpected nature touring very close to home.

More on the woodland restoration from “Planting and Protecting California Oaks“:

In a presentation on the history of Descanso Gardens, Brian Sullivan, director of horticulture and operations, referenced the evolving mission of Descanso. Originally developed as a camellia farm for the cut flower industry, owner Manchester Boddy bought two entire camellia nurseries in 1942, Star and San Gabriel, before the owners were sent to Manzanar. Boddy planted 50,000 camellias over 19 acres under the mature oaks.

When the gardens were transferred to a public botanic garden in 1953, maintenance of the camellias continued to include hand watering each plant. In the 1980s oscillating sprinklers were installed for efficient overhead watering.

In the 1990s the Descanso Guild, nonprofit overseers who manage this L.A. County Parks Department property, began to review the foundation of the garden: the California oaks. The conditions so favorable to camellias, including shade, leaf-enriched soil, and overhead summer watering, were detrimental to the oak overstory. In nature, the oaks would be re-seeding and replacing themselves. The density of the camellia plantings edged out new oaks and curbed the camellias. Planted so closely, these C. japonicas were unusually tall and gangly, with sparse blooms.

A long-range study was conducted last year to review and revise the garden’s maintenance, with an eye to the future health of the camellias and oaks. The resulting plan is being enacted, concurrent with growth and dormancy cycles. The camellias are being pruned, which will force prolific flowers. And the camellias will be gently “teased apart” from the oaks and re-established in a separate 10-acre “estate garden,” complete with micro-spray irrigation. The oaks will slowly return to the cyclic rains of Southern California’s Mediterranean climate with cool, wet winters and hot, dry summers.”

Posted in agaves, woody lilies, garden travel, garden visit, journal, succulents | Tagged , , , | 7 Comments

a faithful February friend

The Cactus Geranium, Pelargonium echinatum, has been brightening my February for over a decade. And it just might be one of the most well-documented plants on the blog. This photo from February 12, 2013, is one of many over the years:

Photobucket

I just potted the Pelargonium echinatum into this chipped Bauer pot inherited from my grandmother. A chipped Bauer pot ceases to be a sacred cow and can definitely mix it up with the other garden pots…The pink-limbed, trailing cactus in the clay pot is Lepismium cruciforme.”

That Lepismium cruciforme hasn’t had the staying power of the little pelargonium, still in that chipped Bauer pot. Supposedly it can live up to 20 years, especially if I continue to withhold water during summer and give it the rest it craves. That this little pelargonium prefers to abstain from water during our long, dry summer puts us in perfect sync. No wonder we’ve gotten along so well for so long. Such a performance is a lesson in knowing when to pick your fights, when to bloom, when to retreat.

Photobucket

Above photo from February 2011 showing the seedpods that give pelargoniums the common name “cranesbill.”

 photo P1010007.jpg

I love everything about it — the drape and swag of its stems studded with felted, scalloped, grey-green leaves.

 photo P1010015_1.jpg

The clusters of five-petaled flowers with their dark tattoos.

 photo P1010013.jpg

The dangling buds on gracefully elongated flower stalks (peduncles).

 photo P1010004.jpg

That piercing intensity of concentrated color just when you think the month of February really could use a kick in the ass.

 photo P1010008.jpg

And, again, its resilient adaptation to hot, dry summers like mine by shedding its leaves and photosynthesizing through its stems.

 photo P1010006.jpg

It has my complete admiration for rousing its dessicated, gnarled, leafless stems into a performance like this every February.

 photo P1010003.jpg

Posted in plant crushes, Plant Portraits | Tagged | 2 Comments

monday clippings 2/5/18


 photo P1010037.jpg

There’s an unexpected addition to the container garden, and not one that I’d necessarily pick out of a lineup as an especially attractive succulent, like Agave ‘Kissho Kan’ in the foreground.

 photo P1010011.jpg

I encountered this little space oddity on a walk last week. This is a rooted cutting given to me by the plant’s owner, after he found me hunched over his parkway examining the mother plant, which bears the outline of a miniature oak — a dense, umbrella-like canopy atop a stout, 2-inch caliper trunk, the whole plant maybe 2 feet high. Growing singly in a sea of iceplant, its identity stumped me completely. And not to brag, but that doesn’t happen very often on my walks, basically because there’s not a lot of rarities growing in local parkways. I had no idea what it was, and unfortunately neither did the owner. My quiet afternoon stroll was immediately transformed into a plant-hunting adventure. Maybe it was some kind of colletia? It does have little thorns, but nothing as nasty as Colletia paradoxa. Without any leaves to go by, that was my only clue.

 photo P1017143.jpg

I nicknamed it the “Crystalline Entity,” (and Next Gen Star Trek fans will know why), and image-searched colletias off and on for a day or so, which was a dry well. I eventually abandoned the colletia theory and on a new hunch cut into a leaf — milky white sap oozed out, the tell-tale signs of the euphorbia tribe. Within a few seconds I had its identity, Euphorbia lignosa, a leafless, caudiciform succulent from Namibia. I’m going to leave a note with its identity in the grower’s mailbox. You think there’s any demand for an amateur consulting horticultural detective?

 photo IMG_7732.jpg

Yesterday, Super Bowl Sunday, was deliciously quiet in the garden. It felt like I had the world to myself. And so it seemed a good idea to replant the tractor funnel, that held a single cylindropuntia, with Zig-Zag Cactus (Selenicereus anthonyanus aka Fish Bone Cactus), various rhipsalis and bromeliads that needed a new home.

 photo P1010019.jpg

And I noted that Baja spurge, Euphorbia xanti, had begun to bloom, so I moved it where it could mingle with the potted annuals and their similarly tiny, meadowy blooms. It’s perfect for a very dry garden, but instead I’ve kept it in the nursery container since bringing it home last year, knowing that it becomes an overgrown thicket of new and old growth in the ground. I’ve been nipping off the dried-up old twigs, so now it’s full of fresh growth and baby’s breath-like blooms. It will be a cloud of bloom in a couple weeks.

 photo IMG_7771.jpg

A nice surprise as a container plant — a see-through, gauzy presence that plays off big leaves and is very tolerant of full sun and other abuses. One of the best things about containers plants — surprise! — is their portability and the endless opportunities they offer for mixing it up and pairing with other blooms and textures.

 photo IMG_7755-002.jpg

Of course, containers have many, many functions. I’ve been nursing a sick ‘Goliath,’ a refugee from the front gravel garden that’s been dug up and resettled in a pot for more sun. Too much shade in winter and too many aloe mites have been weakening the giant. He’s definitely a statement plant, and one not readily available, so he’s worth some trouble. Maybe he’ll outgrow this ugly phase. I’ve been cutting off the mite-infected leaves and treating with alcohol, and for the moment he’s clean. A tree aloe (aloidendron) thought to be a cross between barberae and vaombe. The best outcome would be that all this trauma transforms him into a double-headed Goliath.

 photo IMG_7765.jpg

Another “statement” plant, Agave vilmoriniana ‘Stained Glass,’ shares the east patio with the recovering Aloe ‘Goliath.’ The agave is the picture of rude good health, an unavoidable contrast to the convalescing giant.

 photo IMG_7743.jpg

The blooms of the Silver Teaspoons (Kalanchoe bracteata) have colored up and opened, adding another layered wash of warm orange to the winter garden. The grasses haven’t been cut back yet, but I have a feeling all these warm, rainless days mean spring is coming early, so I’ll be surprised if they’re not cut back by the end of February.

Posted in clippings, journal, pots and containers, succulents | Tagged , , , , , , | 5 Comments

the January report

Another January gone. There have been nine reported on the blog. A lot has changed, but a lot is still weirdly the same. (For example, my obsession with poppies and agaves.) Inconsistent, ambivalent, flighty — those are the words that would first come to mind if I had to describe myself, so it’s surprising to find something written eight years ago still holding true. From January 2010:

Here’s the soloist for January, intended to be part of the spring corps de ballet, an Orange Chiffon poppy:

Photobucket

This poppy blooming today just reminds and reinforces the direction I’ve been heading in anyway, of planning for a big early spring show and reducing attention (and irrigation) in the dry season.”

Photobucket

“One day this direction may ultimately land me looking at my garden filled with aloes blooming in January, with very little room left for herbaceous stuff later in the year, as seen in the Huntington’s succulent and cactus garden several winters ago.

 photo P1010047.jpg

And so this direction has come to pass. Lots of winter aloes in bloom this year and a few self-sowing poppies now filling in the increasingly diminishing gaps left open for spring and summer growers. The only real foil to this plan are the ants and aphids constantly attacking the stemless aloes, even in winter. I’m on my second Aloe capitata var. quartzicola, pictured above.

Photobucket

Photobucket

Agave guadalajarana January 2011, worthy of three photos. By January 2012 it was gone — simply sheared off at the base. I need to check around with local growers for availability because sudden death aside, it’s such a good, non-suckering, mid-sized agave.

Photobucket

This detailed little succulent garden near the front porch and driveway has been completely given over to a roof-high Acacia podalyrifolia.

Photobucket

Also from January 2011. Both the Euphorbia ‘Diamond Frost’ and Amicia zygomeris are currently in bloom now in 2018. How’s that for continuity?

Photobucket

In January 2012 I brought home this tank, now occupied by Agave vilmoriniana ‘Stained Glass.’

Photobucket

January 2013 I was swooning over raindrops on aeoniums. We clocked just 6 inches of rain that season, which is still more than we’ve had so far this season.

 photo P1011466.jpg

January 2014 I still grew Coronilla valentina ssp. glauca. Miss this scented evergreen beauty every damn winter. Inexplicably never available locally. The variegated form shimmers like nobody’s business. The non-variegated form self-sows profusely, and there always seems to be a seedling around for potting up for reserves…until there isn’t.

 photo P1011886.jpg

Acacia podalyrifolia January 2014.

 photo _MG_1311.jpg

January 2015 I still had my community garden plot, the one I could never visit frequently enough to keep the veggies watered. I love the planning and planting stages, but the follow-through with an off-site garden a couple miles away — big fail.

 photo 1-P1010612.jpg

In January 2016 I was finding new California natives to love, like the Catalina Silverlace, Constancea nevinii.

 photo 1-_MG_4810.jpg

January 2017 I reported on a visit to Rick Bjorklund’s garden in San Diego, a visit I repeated a few weeks ago.

Obviously, there’s two things I’ve never been ambivalent about — plants and gardens! Have a great weekend.

Posted in agaves, woody lilies, blog, succulents | Tagged , , , , , | 6 Comments

Australian garden design

Australia. Big continent. Vast, you might say. My familiarity with Australian garden design, however, is the opposite of vast. Southwestern Australia is one of the five true mediterranean climate zones, like where I live here in Los Angeles — dry summers, wet winters (theoretically). And also like here at home, climate change is unsettling longstanding rainfall patterns. In many respects, we are close compatriots, horticulturally speaking, and I’m enjoying becoming more and more familiar with a few of its many exceedingly gorgeous plants. So many of Australia’s plants feed my hummingbirds all winter. Yet what I know about Australian garden design would fit in a hummingbird’s beak. English, French, Spanish, Dutch — a decent amount of garden design news gets through. But Australia? It’s basically a news blackout. There’s The Planthunter, Georgina Reid’s excellent blog, which doesn’t seem to load for me lately. She’s even done a piece on an Australian designer I’ve been looking into today, Fiona Brockhoff, but I can’t load the article (“Fiona Brockhoff’s Seaside Rebellion.”)

Here’s a couple photos of Ms. Brockhoff’s work to whet your curiosity too. Dry gardens with a beautiful control of volume and tension.

 photo events_og_karkalla.jpg

 photo 1504759635420.jpg

photos via The Sydney Morning Herald, “Renowned designer Fiona Brockhoff opens her Toorak garden.”

 photo wonderfully-laid-out-drifts-with-tall-stipa-gigantea-in-the-background-photo-michael-mccoy.jpg

Michael McCoy is another high-profile garden designer in Australia. You can learn more about him via his blog The Gardenist. Verbascums, Stipa gigantea, penstemons, euphorbias — we could be in Beth Chatto’s garden in East Anglia. It would seem Australian designers are also scouring the world for beautiful plants to handle their summer dry gardens, as well as utilizing the best of their own native plants –just like home, where a mix of exotic and native plants are being called on to help deal with an unpredictably changing climate.

 photo 0f9be578-a567-4d8c-a52a-53608a6fc7ee.jpg

So alluringly strange yet familiar at the same time. Greg Lyons’ garden, photos by photographer Claire Takacs for Homelife.

 photo d61c42da-e2f5-4b25-aa52-e755d4f91ceb.jpg

Photos of Greg Lyons’ garden by photographer Claire Takacs for Homelife.

It only makes sense to do some research, because you never know when a trip to Australia might present itself, right?

Posted in artists, climate, design, garden travel | Tagged , , , , , , | 10 Comments