fantasy herbaria of Anne Ten Donkelaar

Gardens are inspiration engines, filled with mesmerizing sights, sounds, and scents. For an artist, it’s a bottomless treasure trove of ideas. Have a look at the “flower constructions” of Anne Ten Donkelaar.

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(from “Dearest Nature“)

The “flower constructions” series of photographic images are made of paper cutouts and dried plants. Note the pins holding the pieces in place, giving a unique 3-D effect to her work.

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Fantastical and surreal, yes, but I love how it also alludes to centuries of scholarly collecting and mounting of herbarium specimens.

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In the series “broken butterflies,” again the scientific collecting of lepidoptera specimens is referenced, but poetic emphasis is placed on their inherent transformative powers, as bits of damaged butterflies are tenderly combined with other materials to make fantastical new creatures, rechristened with names like “Queen of Wings” and “Rainbow Warrior.”

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In the “underwater ballet” series, dream-like images are taken of flowers that have been anchored in water, in which the flowers “float gracefully around in the cold water, capturing a silent image of a spirited dance.” (via Design Guru)

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Gardens — a perpetual inspiration feedback loop.

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Posted in artists, inspire me, photography | Tagged | 1 Comment

Bloom Day September 2017, fall-planting edition

Nothing much new to report for September Bloom Day, hosted by Carol at May Dreams Gardens. Anything new in bloom here is from fall planting. Okay, so technically I’m a little premature with fall planting, but patience has never been my strong suit.

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Tecoma ‘Bells of Fire‘ is a newish compact variety that will probably behave more like a shrub than vine.

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It’s been tucked into a corner of the narrow planting strip on the east patio, the same strip where Passiflora ‘Witchcraft’ was recently planted adjacent to a now fence-high Tecomaria ‘Hammer’s Rose.’ Vines or vine-like plants seem to be the answer for this awkward little strip. (Both the tecoma and tecomaria come from the tropical bignoniaceae tribe.) When planting the Tecoma ‘Bells of Fire,’ I trained a hose with a steady jet of water into the hole, waiting for the water to top the rim then slowly reabsorb. Waiting and waiting — I never could get the hole to fill, because the soil continually sucked in every drop. At least the drainage is good. The potted agaves are getting moved to this patio for full winter sun, whereas that little potted quiver tree, Aloe dichotoma, has been flourishing in harsh sun here all summer — a very tough customer.

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Although it comes with the toughest of bonafides, even the tecomaria has been a struggle to shepherd safely through the dry season in this hellish strip. The photo isn’t very helpful other than to show that the tecomaria, just behind the potted Euphorbia canariensis, has finally topped the fence, with a few light peachy blooms at the tips. If the tecomaria and passiflora want to mingle on the rebar trellis, so much the better. Vines are intrinsically social beings, after all.

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This strip has become a notorious graveyard for plants. The soil seems determined to revert to bone-dry dust. I suspect my neighbor’s palms and lawn on the other side of the fence are the water-hogging guilty parties.

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More fall planting. Salvia chiapensis is a long-time, absolutely reliable friend of the garden that has cycled in and out for many years. Of all the salvias I’ve grown, this salvia is a standout for its relatively compact, vase-like shape, willowy habit, long period of bloom, and the toughness of its crinkly, rugose leaves, which never droop mid-day like the thin leaves of the spectacular new hybrids such as ‘Wendy’s Wish’ and ‘Love and Wishes.’ By planting it in fall, it’s a gift for the year-round hummingbirds throughout fall and most of winter. So much easier than messing around with feeders. It’s always available locally, like this beautifully grown specimen from H&H Nursery, whenever I want it back in the garden.

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The chocolate daisy Berlandiera lyrata has been in bloom all summer and really does scent a hot mid-day with chocolate perfume.

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Agastache ‘Blue Boa’ was planted early/mid summer. Pennisetum ‘Karley Rose’ leans in, a boisterous grass with a big presence. One clump was removed earlier in the summer.

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The serrated, strappy leaves belong to Eryngium pandanifolium, whose seedheads are now a rusty brown.

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Looking from the back porch. Grasses are Pennisetum ‘Karley Rose,’ in the back, Pennisetum ‘Cherry Sparkler’ in the foreground (replacing a ‘Fairy Tails’ mid summer that had taken on the manners of a playful baby elephant). A glimpse of Miscanthus ‘Little Kitten’ leans in from the right. This miscanthus is not what I would describe as small and kittenish — it’s becoming apparent that if you love grasses, be prepared to split them up into smaller clumps every year, a job for late winter here. Still, I do think our dry, rainless summers are a good match for grasses. No worries of them getting smashed to the ground in rainstorms, and they sail their plumes on surprisingly little supplemental irrigation.

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Muhlenbergia ‘Fast Forward’ began ramping up the past week, but it is getting squeezed by Miscanthus ‘Little Kitten’

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Verbena bonariensis is mostly finished, except for one seeded into the bricks.

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Several plants of Aloe ‘Cynthia Giddy’ dotted throughout the back garden continue to make rod-straight torches 3 feet tall, which completely satisfies my craving for strong verticals throughout summer. The big succulent leaves of Pedilanthus bracteatus are to the right, lightly in bloom now too.

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Protea ‘Pink Ice’ threw its first two blooms this summer. I poured the water on all summer to get it established, something I apparently failed at with two leucospermums.

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It’s always a surprise how much care and vigilance future drought-tolerant shrubs need to become established. If you hand water like I do, slip-ups happen. A lot.

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A container filled with white cosmos was added in August, with some dark purple sweet potato vines, and that wraps up another Bloom Day report, fall-planting edition.

Posted in agaves, woody lilies, Bloom Day, pots and containers | Tagged , , , , , , , | 13 Comments

golden gardens

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Doing some blog research for fall planting, I was surprised to find what a luminous phase the garden entered briefly around 2014. I’ve always been drawn to bright-colored leaves, but in this period the garden glowed as if irradiated. Chief sources of pale and golden yellow at the time included the lemon cypresses at the east fence, the variegated mint bush in the foreground, Prostranthera ovalifolia, then mid-garden the lemony spikes of Yucca recurvifolia ‘Margarita’ (aka ‘Margaritaville’), and just barely visible in the back the Giant Reed, Arundo donax ‘Golden Chain.’ Out of these only the three lemon cypresses, Cupressus macrocarpa ‘Citriodora,’ remain.

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The wonderfully fragrant mint bush, even though short-lived, is always a pleasure to have around, especially this shimmering variegated form. When in bloom, a lavender wash of little bells covers this Australian shrub.

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Undeniably beautiful but an aggressive colonizer, the Giant Reed was eradicated in the nick of time, but not before swallowing up weaker growers in its path like kniphofias. (Anything in the path of the Giant Reed is by definition weaker.)

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Here the arundo pulsates and plans future conquests behind the white form of the biennial Geranium maderense.

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The yucca emitted a radioactive glow of its own, but as it grew to the height of the pergola it began to block views of everything else in the garden. As it bulged out onto the patio under the pergola, I expected it to knock on the back door any day. It was removed not long after the summer of its first bloom.

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At the bast of the pot, recently planted Yucca ‘Bright Star’ makes a more acceptably ground-hugging, acid-yellow rosette. Finally, the local nurseries have brought in quantities of this hard-to-find yucca. Cached in the large pot, a variegated Pittosporum crassifolium gleams as bright as the glittering blooms of the miscanthus, which give the garden a heady case of effervescence, a foaming fountain of pale champagne. The dark phormium in the distance is a night-and-day changeup in tone from the large Yucca ‘Margarita.’

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The variegated form of St. Augustine grass adds a sunny blonde rinse to any planting, but I do check frequently for any runners encroaching on Aloe scobinifolia.

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Another notable shrub I’ve grown for brightening a garden is Corokia virgata ‘Sunsplash.’

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Vines, too, can have golden forms, like Polygonum aubertii ‘Aureum.’ The golden form of jasmine, Jasminum officinalis ‘Frojas,’ was a weak grower, while the golden hops, Humulus lupulus ‘Aureus,’ was much too strong. For giant chartreuse leaves, there’s the elephant ears like Xanthosoma ‘Lime Zinger,’ and there’s a vast selection of small perennials with chartreuse leaves (agastache, dicentra, creeping jenny, tiarellas, heucheras, hostas, etc.) for suitable climates, but at ground level the effect is quite specific and requires possibly more careful handling. I prefer a brightening effect and am not necessarily going for crazy-quilt, even if that’s sometimes the unintended result. For tall succulents, there’s the African Candelabra, Euphorbia ammak — I’m always on the lookout for a little more shine in the garden.

Posted in design, journal, Plant Portraits, pots and containers | Tagged , , , , , | 6 Comments

dog days of August bite garden

My leaning Cussonia gamtoosensis took a serious dive earthward in late August. Like a watched pot that never boils, it’s difficult to discern when a chronically leaning tree is in imminent danger of failing, but clearly the cabbage palm was on the move earthward. Hoping drastic surgery might save the tree, one of its three branches was removed, the one leaning most northward, in an attempt to lighten the canopy. A sawhorse was positioned just forward of the trunk for insurance. In just a few days, the tree was leaning entirely on the sawhorse for support. There was no denying that the pot had finally boiled over. For a day or so I thought about leaving the sawhorse as a permanent support — this tree is so stunning that even with an ugly sawhorse holding it up it still had beauty to spare, but all the planting around it looked cheapened, and there was the safety of nearby Grevillea ‘Moonlight’ and the ‘Hercules’ aloidendron/aloe to consider. Checking the tree’s roots, a vast network of soil-less pockets was discovered, either a consequence of the tree slowly uprooting or the soil-displacing activities of ants. Whatever the cause of the tree’s failure to remain upright, it was time.

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An appropriate name for the garden now might be “The Stumpery” — the massive stump of the smoke tree ‘Grace’ is still here since the tree’s removal in August 2012, now propping up a foxtail agave, Eucalyptus ‘Moon Lagoon’ has not been fully cut down even though new growth from the base has long since died, and now the cussonia, all of which comes from being something of an incorrigible risk taker as far as experimenting with plants. Will I ever change? Probably not, as long as there’s strength left to deal with the consequences of an indiscriminate appetite for plants (see “ghosts of gardens past.”) Of course, the dog days of August had nothing to do with the loss of the unstable cussonia, but the heat did take out quite a few first-year introductions lacking the root system to withstand the stress, including two leucospermums.

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But well-established plants have amazing resistance to extreme heat. Check out the defensive posture of Agave ‘Blue Flame.’

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‘Zwartkop’ also protectively curled in on itself. (Not all aeoniums are created equal as far as summer dormancy goes. ‘Zwartkop’ doesn’t get too shabby, nor the variegated ‘Sunburst,’ whereas ‘Goliath’ is abysmal, losing most of its leaves.)

But the loss of the cussonia set in motion a day of furious digging and plant shifting. It is ever thus: first comes the heartbreak, then the cold calculation of new opportunities, the ongoing saga of creative destruction in the garden. Now I had a prime spot for Melianthus ‘Purple Haze,’ which has always hated dealing with full afternoon sun all summer. With the cussonia gone, the bog sage cut back, Rudbeckia triloba pulled, the melianthus could be settled into a dappled sun/afternoon shade location adjacent to Grevillea ‘Moonlight,’ which needed a bit of straightening after the pushing and shoving it endured from the cussonia. Time will tell if the melianthus appreciates being dug, split, and moved during the warm days of early September. All I can say is that the hot weather combined with losing the cussonia put me in a bit of a ruthless mood.

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But it’s always good to shake things up and get a fresh look. Agave ‘Snow Glow’ shines even more backed by a chorus of the bromeliad Bilbergia ‘Hallelujah’ which were uprooted in the upheaval.

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In the full-sun vacancy left by the melianthus was an opening to try Senecio palmeri, endemic to searingly hot and dry Guadalupe Island off Baja California. I’ve had an eye on this one at the local nursery all summer. Goats were introduced to the island by whalers not long after it was first identified, so there’s very little of it left on the island.

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Looking for Senecio palmeri at the nurseries, I fell under the spell of Passiflora ‘Witchcraft.’ Reputed to bloom only in late summer/fall, with leaves that burn in too much sun but flowering poorly in too little sun, i.e., troublesome, it has The Stumpery’s name all over it. (“Wicked witchcraft, and although I know it’s strictly taboo, when you arouse the need in me, my heart says yes, indeed in me, proceed with what you’re leading me to,” etc.)

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More sparkly lights seemed appropriate after the dog days of August. In this season of unusually fierce storms, wishing you a safe weekend.

Posted in agaves, woody lilies, clippings | Tagged , , , | 7 Comments

Sunday clippings 9/3/17

Did the Powerball mania descend on your home too a couple weeks back? Just because I never buy Powerball or lottery tickets, magical thinking really kicks in when news of the big jackpots reaches even my normally oblivious state of mind. Obviously, I reason, this is meant to be, so I better get ready. First, I check how much of a bite taxes would take out. (The $700 million jackpot translated into roughly $330 million after taxes in California if delivered in one payment rather than an annuity.) Then I start making lists for giving it away. (I will blow PBS’ mind with my Powerball donation, and we can kick the Koch brothers’ money to the curb!) Conspicuously absent from my preparations to become a millionaire is dusting off plans for my dream house. I don’t have a dream house. What an oversight! The furthest I’ve ever gotten in dream house planning is daydreaming about buying land for a really big garden, in USDA zone 10, near a body of water with a dock and a little sailboat for Marty…and living in an adapted container or maybe an Airstream trailer, surrounded by numerous corgis, blue heelers, and Irish wolfhounds. Low aspirations, that’s been the problem all these years! I am not a deserving winner because my megarich dreams are feeble, weak sauce! No wonder I never win.

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Photo Courtesy of Barbara Bestor Architecture via Dwell

Perhaps the trick is to have readymade plans for a dream house to appease the Powerball gods. Let me help your odds. Maybe this is your dreamhouse. It’s not mine (where’s the dock and little sailboat?), but it has some features I’m completely on board with, e.g., the movable walls, deep roof overhangs, the multiple buildings which give a sense of having a personal compound, but not in a bad, evil-cult sense but in a surrounding-yourself-with-friends-and-family sense. And it’s located in Montecito, California, an area that has snagged my attention recently for housing some fabulous early 20th century estates and gardens. I used to think Montecito began and ended with Lotusland, but there’s more early 20th century estates to explore, like Casa del Herrero and the currently inaccessible *Austin Val Verde. And who knows what else is taking shape and strategic advantage of that spectacular climate at this very moment? Just possibly a house and garden that will be looked on in the future as a notable early 21st century estate.

So have a look around this Montecito estate known as the Toro Canyon House, built in 2012, approx. 4700 square feet. (Diving further into the property specs, no wonder I’m smitten. Landscape architect is the incomparable Isabelle Greene & Associates.) I’ve omitted most photos of the interior, so check out the links if you’re interested.

Photos are by Laure Joliet except where noted.

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The Mediterranean Garden Society’s 23rd Annual General Meeting in late October includes a pretrip to Santa Barbara/Montecito that will stop at Lotusland, Casa del Herrero, as well as gardens designed by Isabelle Greene. (I am most emphatically not implying that Toro Canyon House is included on the tour. I have no idea which Greene houses will be toured.) This pretrip is limited to 50 attendees, with preference given to out-of-country visitors, so it’s possibly sold out. I’ll be calling to check later in the week.

*You may have noticed I keep mentioning the Austin Val Verde estate. Any info would be much appreciated.

Posted in agaves, woody lilies, climate, clippings, design, garden travel, garden visit, succulents | Tagged , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Re-post: Amsterdam houseboat gardens

In the aftermath of the 500-year storm event in Texas and the horrendous suffering it has inflicted, offering lovely houseboat scenes may seem overly naive, if not downright cruel, but just try not to dwell on the design issues that brought Houston to its knees. I know I can’t. My own city of Long Beach, much of it also in a flood zone, is developing a new, high-density Land Use Element plan for the next 30 years, and already there’s lots of pushback, at least in my neighborhood. Here in Los Angeles, we already have canal cities with names like Naples and Venice, and wetlands are in constant battle with development.

From The Atlantic’s 8/28/17 “Houston’s Flood is a Design Problem“:

The reason cities flood isn’t because the water comes in, not exactly. It’s because the pavement of civilization forces the water to get back out again…Roads, parking lots, sidewalks, and other pavements, along with asphalt, concrete, brick, stone, and other building materials, combine to create impervious surfaces that resist the natural absorption of water.”

For most of us, hope comes as naturally as taking that next breath, so I’m hoping for smart, empathetic leadership that embraces the best of what designers, architects, builders, and scientists have to offer us as we stare down a future of extreme weather events and rising population, and having to accommodate both on increasingly stressed and poorly managed land.

The re-post from Mitch’s visit to Amsterdam in 2012, “Amsterdam houseboat gardens“:

    “Can you string together three other words that conjure as much bliss as those? Perhaps you can. But having been obsessed with some garden or other most of my life, and having lived with a boat captain most of my life as well, I’ve had more than a few daydreams about living on a houseboat — where there must be plants too, of course. I’m using the word “garden” liberally here — that irresistible impulse to keep the plant world close at hand, responsible for it, bound to it.

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    “Calm down…surely not the houseboat of that Piet. Remember, it’s a very common name in The Netherlands.

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    MB Maher left Iceland and has been roaming the canals of Amsterdam the past week. He sent these photos along with a little note:

    there seems to be some unspoken agreement that houseboat decks will function as the city’s metaphor of green space. all dutch houses have extensive gardens but all are hidden by the inner-courtyard structure of the city blocks…there are also certain visual jokes like papering the portholes and skylights with plant-themed wallpaper to maintain an illusion that the entire houseboat is filled with greenery. not sure if the weber grill and garden gnomes are in earnest or jest as well.

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Posted in climate, design, MB Maher | Tagged , | 3 Comments

to the kids, with love


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Remember this photo from a few posts ago? The “east wing” was getting readied for my son Duncan’s engagement party.

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Add lights, paper lanterns, friends, family and cake, and voila! Duncan and Kristy’s engagement party last Sunday.

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A trip to the Downtown LA flower market a couple days before the party was probably more fun for me than helpful — a last-minute grab of grocery store flowers to fill a couple throwaway urns we found curbside probably came out looking the freshest, with just a few branches of Grevillea ‘Moonlight’ thrown in for good measure.

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Kristy cuts the cake (by long-time family fav Amaltifano Bakery in San Pedro. George’s Greek Cafe in downtown Long Beach catered the food.)

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All the party photos are by Mitch.

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There was so much to do, I never picked up the camera again. Although I intended to document prepping of some of the flowers in another pair of urns, these photos are as far as I got. We’ve been working on a project with surplus stairway spindles, and I grabbed a couple to support these urns because I wanted some height to swag and drape passion vine. The pointy ends of the spindles were hammered directly into the gravel. Rather than using cut leaves, I bought some 4-inch pots of chartreuse sweet potato plants and variegated plectranthus as a base for the flowers. I also grabbed some succulents and bromeliads from the garden.

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I had trialed the ‘Flying V’ passion vine in vases, and it lasts for days, so I knew it’d be tough enough to last at least the day of the event in the little floral water tubes, even during a heat wave.

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You’ll have to imagine these finished with white hydrangeas, lime green amaranthus, eryngium, with leucadendron and phormium from the garden. Empty pots, empty garden rooms, and every heart filled to overflowing. All our love, you two!

Posted in cut flowers, journal, MB Maher, pots and containers | 9 Comments

the Virginia Robinson Garden

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There’s always a local, hometown garden or two that we never get around to visiting, right? And that holds true even in garden-starved Southern California. The Virginia Robinson Garden in Beverly Hills has been written and rewritten in seemingly vanishing ink at the top of my must-see list for decades.

Continue reading

Posted in climate, design, garden visit | Tagged , , , , , , | 14 Comments

Bloom Day August 2017

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August is a mixed bag in the garden, with parts of the garden exuberantly bulging out of bounds while other areas grow threadbare. Bocconia and tetrapanax share the award for most frequent dropping of big, yellowing leaves, and the melianthus has typically thinned out by August too.

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Thank heavens for summer-blooming aloe, ‘Cynthia Giddy.’ (Also blooming is Aloe elgonica. Aloe ‘Kujo’ is without blooms for the first time in months.) Lilac-pink blooms almost out of frame belong to a valerian, Centranthus lecoqii, from the Huntington plant sale a year or so ago.*

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I prefer this color to the muddy red of Centranthus ruber, and it seems to reseed less too.

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A NOID Kelly Griffin hybrid aloe has been reblooming at the path’s edge all summer, with Verbena bonariensis.

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Max Parker’s splendid gift of Passiflora ‘Flying V’ has kindled an interest in these vines that love Southern California. I’m partial to the “bat-wing” leaf types but willing to explore all kinds, particularly nonrampant varieties that aren’t touted in catalogue descriptions as “perfect for quickly covering a chain-link fence.” No thanks. ‘Anastasia’ gets great reviews, and I’m also leaning toward P. holosericea (Max blogs at hook and spur.) ‘Flying V’ has been blooming all summer but is looking particularly fine now in August, more lush and with larger leaves.

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Rudbeckia triloba is an August garden’s antidepressant.

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Bursting through the passionflower trellis.

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And crawling on the ground when it eludes support.

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Grevillea ‘Moonlight’ is crowding Aloe ‘Hercules,’ which I’m hoping gains enough height soon to soar out of harm’s way. In the meantime, the grevillea was tied back a bit to give the aloe more elbow room.

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That’s Stipa ichru arching its blooms over gaillardia. The tally of yellow daisies in my garden this summer include this Gaillardia “Mesa Peach,’ Berlandiera lyrata, and Anthemis ‘Susannah Mitchell,’ the latter slowing down in August. The chocolate flower, berlandiera, really loves the heat of August.

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Succulent-leaved Crithmum maritimum, the Rock Samphire, really starts surging in July. I recently saw this cliff dweller featured in a vertical garden design. It’s that tough of a plant.

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Lavender ‘Goodwin Creek Grey’ and Ruby Grass are starting to pick up the pace in August.

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Ruby Grass, Melinus nerviglumis, really is the perfect size for a small garden. When I read in The Bold Dry Garden that Ruth Bancroft also liked to use this grass among her succulents, that was all the validation I needed.

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Tall and lanky Amicia zygomeris has a typical pea flower, yellow in color, but the purply stipules and lush, healthy foliage are more the attraction.

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Also thinning out are the flowering wands of the bog sage, Salvia uliginosa, but still with enough presence to continue bringing in the hummingbirds.

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Anigozanthus flavidus turns out to be the perfect partner for supporting the bog sage. The kangaroo paw’s yellow flowers were aging and browning, so I snipped off only the flowers and left the stems to continue supporting the sage. This goes against accepted wisdom to cut the entire bloom truss of kangaroo paws down at the base for best rebloom, but I will attend to that later in fall.

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The vine Solanum valerianum ‘Navidad Jalisco’ has been thinning out and dropping leaves, and in this case it’s a relief to clear it back and off the lemon cypresses as blooms fade.

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The stock tank cutting garden doles out a few blooms every day, like Dahlia ‘Twyning’s After Eight.’

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The gesneriad from the Denver Botanic Garden plant sale, Chirita flavimaculata, has been surprisingly floriferous, planted at the base of the tetrapanax.

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Two of the four trusses of Eryngium pandanifolium are still deeply colored, while the first two to bloom have faded to a buff color.

Not pictured but deserving of notice, Gomphrena ‘Fireworks’ is a summer mainstay, as are the calamints. For more August reports, head over to the host site for Bloom Day, May Dreams Gardens.

*(Edited to note the subsequent removal of Aloes ‘Cynthia Giddy’ and ‘Kujo’ due to aphid infestations, something I’ve noted seems more problematic with hybrid aloes. ‘Moonglow’ has this tendency as well and may possibly be managed by thinning out leaves and branches periodically and spraying with insecticidal soap.  The aphids literally suck the vigor from the plant,  killing off entire leaves, reducing flowering, etc.)

Posted in Bloom Day | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

keep on planting

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image of Iris reticulata from Wikipedia Commons

Collections of Virginia Woolf’s copious letters and diaries have sustained me through some dreary, uninspiring times. By turns bitchy and transcendent, but always dependably filled with trenchant and unflinching observations of her life and times, I return to them periodically as supplemental oxygen when the present seems unbearably thin and life-sapping. Vox reminded me of this precious resource today, the balm of brave, enduring words from the past, this time quoting from Leonard Woolf and his memoir Downhill All The Way, which I have yet to read. After starting out as a novelist, Leonard’s energies turned more to politics and managing their Hogarth Printing Press that published (and actually printed, with woodcuts by her sister Vanessa Bell for the covers) his wife’s ground-breaking modernist fiction. His own legacy includes his internationalist work with the League of Nations that later became the foundation for the United Nations. And he was a very enthusiastic gardener. Here’s the quote from Vox:

I will end … with a little scene that took place in the last months of peace. They were the most terrible months of my life, for, helplessly and hopelessly, one watched the inevitable approach of war. One of the most horrible things at that time was to listen on the wireless to the speeches of Hitler — the savage and insane ravings of a vindictive underdog who suddenly saw himself to be all-powerful. We were in Rodmell during the late summer of 1939, and I used to listen to those ranting, raving speeches. One afternoon I was planting in the orchard under an apple-tree iris reticulata, those lovely violet flowers. … Suddenly I heard Virginia’s voice calling to me from the sitting room window: “Hitler is making a speech.” I shouted back, “I shan’t come. I’m planting iris and they will be flowering long after he is dead.” Last March, twenty-one years after Hitler committed suicide in the bunker, a few of those violet flowers still flowered under the apple-tree in the orchard.”

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