Potted’s Eternal Gratitude Sale – last weekend

 photo P1010027.jpg

There it is, behind that gauzy curtain of Acacia iteaphylla.

 photo P1010034_1.jpg

Potted’s City Planter, pretty much untouched since first planted. I really should trim back those lanky succulents, but overall I’m amazed at how unblemished and pristine the City Planter remains after almost four years outdoors. For longevity, you just can’t go wrong with the surefire combination of Potted’s meticulous attention to fabrication details paired with the death-defying Sticks on Fire (Euphorbia tirucalli), rhipsalis, and a bromeliad or two. Tillandsias would also be the perfect show-offs for a City Planter. So many possibilities. We are so incredibly fortunate to have the hippest outdoor design store right here in Los Angeles, and even more so when Potted gets in a grateful mood this time of year.

This weekend is your last opportunity to browse Potted’s Eternal Gratitude Sale. With their celebrated eye for curating the coolest stuff around for the outdoors set, from “kitsch to cottage and vintage to modern,” there’s not a design dud in the entire store, which is why this annual sale is such a momentous occasion. 20 percent off everything in the store and on-line — there’s not a better time to sprinkle some of Potted’s design magic on your outdoor havens.

And mark your calendars for February 19, 2018, 10-11 a.m., when Potted brings it to Palm Springs for Modernism Week. Tickets sell out fast!

Potted Style:” Design Impact with Containers in the Modern Home & Garden

“Potted Style:” Design Impact with Containers in the Modern Home & Garden


Posted in design, garden ornament, plant nurseries, plant sales, pots and containers | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

clippings 1/3/18

 photo IMG_7604.jpg

What do you think? Can 2018 possibly get any crazier than 2017? Early evidence certainly points to 2018 getting a running head start. Here’s my own personal, crazy-killing antidote. Finding landscapes like this.

 photo IMG_7639.jpg

And this.

 photo IMG_7575.jpg

And more of this.

 photo IMG_7600.jpg

Elemental, enduring, time-tested.

 photo IMG_7595.jpg

Crazy can’t touch this.

 photo _MG_7458-002.jpg

My hiking boots are still covered in the transcendent dust of Boyce Thompson Arboretum, where these photos were taken the last weekend of December 2017.

 photo IMG_7601.jpg

Leaving Los Angeles just before noon on Friday, December 28th, night had already fallen and all the luminarias had been lit by the time we arrived at Phoenix’s Desert Botanical Garden for the last Friday of their holiday celebration Las Noches de las Luminarias. If you ever find yourself feeling slightly jaded in the middle of the frenzied winter holidays, I highly recommend this festival for rejuvenating the spirit that’s been buried under endless to-do lists. (I was even flooded by an extraordinary musical memory when a band played a long-forgotten hymn from childhood. Perhaps it’s commonly sung at Christmas services?) Saturday morning we left Phoenix to drive a couple hours east to Boyce Thompson Arboretum, where the traffic really begins to thin and the shimmering cholla, saguaro, and opuntia press in close as the highway turns to two-lane blacktop.

 photo IMG_7532.jpg

Some loose ends: Early in December I offered a year’s pass to the Huntington Library & Botanical Gardens, and I’m happy to report that local blogger Kris (Late to the Garden Party) is the lucky recipient.

 photo IMG_7502.jpg

Department of Inspiration: More details soon, but a quick save-the-date for the next installment of Natural Discourse, The Songs of Trees, to be held this year in San Francisco on January 27, with the concurrent exhibit “Living Proof: flora, fauna, and fossil fuels” opening January 13 at Space 151 at 151 Potrero Ave, floor 2, San Francisco CA. And even if you can’t attend, you can still support the great, life-affirming work Shirley Watts is doing with Natural Discourse, her ongoing series of “symposia, publications, and site-specific art installations that explores the connections between art, architecture, and science within the framework of botanical gardens and natural history museums,” here.

 photo IMG_7626.jpg

Posted in clippings, garden travel, garden visit | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments

hebes again

It’s winter, and as usual my eye craves big pots of rotund, evergreen orbs and cushions in the Mien Ruys, Dutch style. Closer to home, Sara Malone at Circle Oak Ranch in Northern California, makes a creative argument for the year-round joys of evergreens. I’d mass them in phalanxes, dot them here and there. This recurring winter garden dream tends to evaporate every spring at the grim thought of shepherding this herd of potted green orbs through the dry season. Maybe I could rig some irrigation for them in an unused corner? (What unused corner?) Easy evergreens like box and westringia would be the obvious choice here in zone 10, but there is a tempting Hebe sutherlandii at the local nursery. There is a reason Southern California no longer plants hebes in the ground, which was a widespread practice at one time, and you will discover this reason at the end of this lengthy narrative posted in September 2015, entitled “the case of the disappearing hebes.” Time does march on: Banksy the cat now resides with us, and our great friend Ein passed in 2017. Hope you’re enjoying this post-holiday week.

 photo 11189586_1615664221979192_572090722_n.jpg

I was in San Francisco recently for several days cat-sitting a charming fraidycat in the Mission district named Banksy. It was during this trip that I solved the case of the disappearing hebes, those lovely little shrubs from New Zealand. Because I just can’t seem to acquire a photojournaling habit of anything but plants, I’m borrowing some of Jessica’s wonderfully expressive photos to fill in the cast of characters.

photo from Thread and Bones

 photo MG_6824.jpg

photo from Thread and Bones

This hallway was definitely a character on the trip. Since this photo was taken a couple years ago, it has been covered, and I mean every inch of it, with throw rugs. Because of the rugs, the apartment has taken on the personality of 221B Baker Street. Also because of the rugs, the downstairs neighbors were spared the deafening knowledge that a corgi had taken up temporary residence and was delighting in thundering up and down that hallway. After a quick visit with Mitch and Jessica the night before they left for some lengthy photo work, we had the “railroad” apartment to ourselves for five days. Banksy pretty much kept to his room, the middle bedroom, and we had the front, streetside bedroom.

 photo P1012043.jpg

So it was the four of us, me, Marty, Ein, and Banksy, and that long hallway, where the curtain billows all day just as in the photo.
Ein emptied out the kibble from the cat bowl only twice, showing amazing self-restraint…for a corgi.

 photo 10838442_922791367733197_604897834_n.jpg

photo from Thread and Bones

Banksy and Ein, while not exactly enemies, didn’t become best friends either.

We were thrilled to be leaving the stifling heat in Los Angeles for the legendary cool summer environs of San Francisco. Surprising both us and the mostly non-air-conditioned residents of San Francisco, the heat was stifling there as well. The Mission hit 100 degrees the day we arrived.

 photo 1-P1018555.jpg

While in the city, of course, there was the ritual trip to Flora Grubb Gardens

 photo 1-P1018557.jpg

 photo 1-P1018563.jpg

and the required visit to Annie’s Annuals & Perennials in Richmond, timed nicely with fall planting.

 photo 1-_MG_3386.jpg

I also horned in on a tour of the Reid garden near Sebastopol via my very nice contact at the American Conifer Society, Sara Malone, whose own fabulous garden at Circle Oak Ranch was also on the tour. Unfortunately, I only had time for the early morning visit to the Reid garden and had to get the car back to the city.

 photo 1-_MG_3405.jpg

Glimpse of a mature leucadendron on the upper left. I think the garden is likely in zone 9. Penstemons, zauschnerias/epilobiums, ceratostigma and salvias were in bloom, with some roses having a late-summer flush.

 photo 1-_MG_3395.jpg

The garden has incredible atmosphere and spatial presence built up over decades of deeply informed selection and placement of beautifully appropriate plants.

 photo 1-_MG_3491.jpg

The Reid garden is not at all conifer-centric, but a wonderful mix of dry-adapted trees, shrubs, grasses and perennials.

 photo 1-_MG_3477.jpg

I believe the rose on the arbor behind the potted agave is ‘Mme Alfred Carriere,’ a creamy, very fragrant climbing noisette.

 photo 1-_MG_3379.jpg

The blue pool on the lower left is Crambe maritima. Mine have done remarkably well all summer on restricted irrigation.

 photo 1-_MG_3358.jpg

I’ve wanted to see this garden since learning of it through Pacific Horticulture.

 photo 1-_MG_3452.jpg

 photo 1-P1018615.jpg

Back to the case of the disappearing hebes. I confess I hadn’t thought about hebes in years and hadn’t even noted their disappearance from SoCal.

 photo 1-P1018641.jpg

Along with traipsing through spectacular gardens, there were mundane chores to do in the city as well, like laundry. Needing the services of a Laundromat and finding the one familiar to us in the Mission shuttered, we headed to the Marina district. Which is where I found this majestic stand of Salvia ‘Purple Majesty.’ I dropped off Marty and Ein at a nearby Laundromat and promised to bring back food. But first I needed to examine these enormous clumps of salvia. They were admirably dense and uniform in habit, unlike the rangy specimens I grow. This planting is at the George Moscone Recreation Center.

 photo 1-P1018606.jpg

The shrubs surrounding the salvias were just as remarkable. Hebes! Beautiful New Zealanders. I haven’t seen hebes for ages.

 photo 1-P1018613.jpg

Ruddy coprosmas with pale, variegated hebes.

 photo 1-P1018635.jpg

 photo 1-P1018608.jpg

There used to be hebes in Southern California. Where had they all gone? Is changing fashion ruthless enough to cause complete eradication? Possibly, but even more ruthless is Fusarium oxysporum v. hebei. From the Monterey Bay Nursery website:

[F]ormerly important stalwarts in California landscaping, but now essentially extirpated due to the introduction of Fusarium oxysporum v. hebei. This disease persists in soils and nursery beds for years, and induces systemic, incurable stem infections which ravage landscapes and commercial crops. By the early 1990’s hebes had essentially left the commercial trade in California.”

Rather than choosing for flowers, my favorites have always been “those with tight, dense, box-like foliage in grey or green, and the whipcord types with minute, scale like leaves and stringy branches…
Some of the smaller leaved types can be more resistant, may be tested in the ground, but don’t come crying to us if they die. You have been forewarned
!”

I have no idea what chances for longevity the hebes at the Moscone Rec Center have, but they appear for now to be in robust good health. I personally have no problem with short-lived plants, say three to five years. I love the changeover. But public landscapes are on different timetables.

Upon returning home, awaiting me was the July issue of Gardens Illustrated with, of all things, an article on hebes by Noel Kingsbury.
Famous for championing the “new naturalism,” comprised of perennials and grasses, Mr. Kingsbury struck me as an unlikely proponent of these tidy shrubs, but the man knows his hebes. He describes the changing fortunes of hebes as falling in and out of favor relative to garden styles, whereas in California the reason for their disappearance is not mercurial tastes but insidious pathogens.

Photobucket

Hebe ‘Quicksilver,’ photo from 2010

The next time I find a Hebe ‘Quicksilver’ at a nursery, I’ll know its chances for survival face much better odds in a container than in the garden.

Posted in garden travel, garden visit, journal, pots and containers | Tagged , | 6 Comments

Occasional Daily Weather Report; Thomas Fire’s impact on gardens and plant nurseries

Stepping out the back door this morning, my skin instantaneously felt the difference. Running to check the hygrometer on the front porch, that immediate sense of all-encompassing hydration was confirmed. The needle registered over 90 per cent humidity. The pergola eaves were dripping with morning dew, and the big, gulping lungfuls of air I ravenously inhaled were rich with moisture for the first time in the weeks since the second largest wildfire in California’s history broke out. Trivial annoyances, like this bad case of chronically chapped lips, will heal quickly. Healing a broken heart? I can’t imagine where you’d begin. The general news coverage and live, interactive fire maps, while terrific, have understandably lacked specificity. For example, along with all the human and animal lives in danger, I’ve also been worried about the fate of plant nurseries and gardens on those maps. This is where Instagram has come to the rescue. San Marcos Growers posted this message and photo on Instagram a couple days ago:

 photo 20cdd779-df84-45e5-b8da-fd82c63e2cec.jpg

Kniphophia ‘Christmas Cheer’ blooming with plumes of smoke from the Thomas Fire in the background. The nursery remains undamaged and OPEN !” San Marcos Growers 12/18/17

This message was posted this week by Lotusland:

 photo 62184cce-0346-4629-9699-713fb999d0b9.jpg

 photo shop-after.jpg

Not everyone has been so fortunate. Australian Native Plants Nursery lost nursery structures and offices to the fire.

 photo 25009102_716575591873098_5511195626412441600_n.jpg

The Santa Barbara Botanic Garden, which I visited in October, seems to be okay, judging by this Instagram post today.

No word yet on the fate of the Taft Garden, at least that I can find. Winds are expected to pick up again later today. Stay safe!

Posted in climate, Occasional Daily Weather Report, plant nurseries | Tagged , , , , , | 10 Comments

bloom day December 2017

 photo P1010021.jpg

I noticed just today that the big, sprawling Corsican hellebore seeded into bricks against the south CMU fence had begun to bloom and so was eligible for inclusion in this December Bloom Day report, hosted by Carol at May Dreams Gardens. Until we get the creeping fig (Ficus pumila) trimmed back on that wall, it’s a bit of a no-go zone. Keeping the wall trimmed is at least a three-times-a-year job that we’ve reduced to two times a year, spring and fall. Come to think of it, I think we skipped fall this year, which is why the overgrowth of the creeping fig nearly caused the blooming hellebore to escape my attention.

 photo P1010024.jpg

I’ve been pinching back Eremophila glabra ‘Kalgoorlie’ to keep it dense and low, and trimming its branches off adjacent lavender and Phyllica pubescens, all the while worrying that these constant interventions might impact flowering.

 photo P1010034.jpg

No need for worrying — it’s having its best overall bloom I’ve seen. Lots of little golden trumpets for the hummingbirds.

 photo P1010007.jpg

I’m very impressed by how quickly the eremophila and grevillea shrubs have become winter mainstays for the hummingbirds. The largest grevillea in the garden is ‘Moonlight,’ with recent additions of ‘King’s Fire,’ pictured above, and ‘King’s Rainbow.’

 photo P1010022_1.jpg

I love that the hummers and I share the same taste in plants, so to speak. I’m not exactly what you’d call a “flowers first” gardener, and perhaps it’s the height of selfishness, but I don’t think I’ve yet to include a plant solely for the pollinators that I couldn’t whole-heartedly admire as well.

 photo P1010047.jpg

Soon to be augmenting the shrubs is the imminent arrival of the flowers of winter-blooming aloes, like this Aloe capitata var. quartzicola.

 photo P1010016.jpg

Here again, the hummers and I are on the same page. We adore winter-blooming aloes. I wish I could devote acres to them.

 photo P1010005.jpg

I’m counting five trusses this year on Aloe cameronii.

 photo P1010024_1.jpg

Aloe ‘Moonglow’ has two bloom spikes, ‘Jacob’s Ladder’ just one, with a few more aloes still too young to bloom this year.

 photo P1010028.jpg

Tecomaria ‘Hammer’s Rose’ is still blooming at the tippy-top of its 6-foot plus stems.

 photo P1010010.jpg

A potted Rosa ‘Mutabilis’ has been a surprisingly eager bloomer in these cooler temperatures.

 photo P1010015.jpg

I haven’t committed garden space to ‘Mutabilis’ yet and doubt that I will, because the sunniest real estate is already spoken for.

 photo P1010018.jpg

The massive Pearl Acacia near the front of the house, Acacia podalyrifolia, seemed to erupt into bloom overnight, wafting far and wide that distinctive scent with notes of anise.

 photo P1010040.jpg

Some succulents are as much about graphic lines when in bloom as out of bloom, like these flapjack kalanchoes I planted for winter, whereas I doubt anyone is growing the senecio tribe for its flowers.

 photo P1010014_1.jpg

The “spoons,” Kalanchoe bracteata (Silver Spoons) and orgyalis (Copper Spoons) are also beginning to bloom.

 photo P1010037.jpg

Little Echeveria diffractens is in bloom.

 photo P1010022.jpg

Passiflora ‘Flying V’ still wants to throw some small blooms even though night temperatures are scraping the low 50s, which I know probably still counts as shirt-sleeve weather for some, but it’s definitely hoodie weather for me.

 photo P1010020.jpg

This weird strain of Pelargonium sidoides, tiny flowers on tall scapes with big leaves, is starting to grow on me.

 photo P1010029.jpg

The pedilanthus are another winter-blooming attractant for hummingbirds.

 photo P1010006.jpg

Sky-scraping, tawny bloom architecture dominates the garden in December, with new contributions from tetrapanax and Bocconia frutescens pictured above, and old contributions from spent grasses and dessicated bloom trusses of Eryngium pandanifolium.

 photo P1010003.jpg

With more golden notes from fallen leaves, like these Pseudobombax ellipticum. I forget where I read or who was telling me that in Southern California, as a general rule, there should be no planting done between Thanksgiving and Christmas, but the soil is so warm from the mild temps that I bet that advice can be safely ignored this year — that is, if the nurseries were filled with anything but wreaths, trees, and holiday gear. I’m impatient to discover how many ladybird poppies I can fit in for spring once the grasses and calamint are cut back, which can be done as late as February/March, and for nurseries to be flooded with new plants again. It’s always a conflict, the golden, mellow picture that greets me every morning and the urge to dig, to plan new pictures. Happy December Bloom Day!

Posted in Bloom Day | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

winter solstice 2017

 photo 1U6A8631 2-X2.jpg

The winter solstice is little more than a week away, on December 21st, after which point the days will blessedly begin to lengthen again. Huzzah! There will at last be more and more light, always cause for celebration, even if some of these longer days turn out to be possibly the coldest we’ll have to endure. Eventually there will be no more winter sun shadow on a quarter of my garden, and I’m choosing to focus on that. Otherwise, I’ve always had somewhat of a minimalist, neo-pagan approach to the rituals of the winter holidays — decorate a tree, maybe some evergreens for the mantle, lots of cookies. This year’s approach is much the same, with just a few twists to keep it interesting. I usually jump into action about a week before Christmas, preferring the excitement of this concentrated-effort approach versus stretching it out over a month.

 photo 1U6A9051 2-X2.jpg

This year I’m hoping to get to Phoenix to see the Desert Botanical Garden’s celebration of lights, Las Noches de las Luminarias. And instead of my diehard cookie recipes, I’m trying these salted caramel sandwich cookies this year, in an attempt to duplicate the ones we devoured at Sellands in Sacramento, where we stopped on a recent trip to the Oregon coast.

 photo 1U6A8712 2-X2.jpg

And here’s a first: I made personalized Christmas cards this year, using these photos Mitch took of Duncan’s wedding at Heceta Head Lighthouse in Oregon in early December. (And an unaffiliated shout-out to Shutterfly. The results came in the mail today, incredibly timely and beautifully rendered.)

 photo 1U6A8646 2-XL.jpg

The wedding was held here, at the former lighthouse keeper’s inn. For two wonderful days the hard-working staff fed us, kept our glasses full, and transformed Kristy and Duncan’s very personal, ceremonial wishlist into the wedding of their dreams. The stormy ocean thundered in affirmation, lace was spangled in sparkling drizzle — it was pure magic for us PNW weather junkies.

 photo 1U6A8549 2-X2.jpg

 photo 1U6A8653 2-XL.jpg

 photo 1U6A8606 2-X2.jpg

What else? Jonathan Gold just released his list of the best tamales in Los Angeles for the holidays, so we might try to track some down for our own taste test. Barring that, I may make some tamales myself again. Oh, and I gave mulled wine a try, which might be more useful for scenting the house than for tastiness, but it really upped the festive quotient for me.

Even more festive is the opportunity to give a local reader a year’s pass to the Huntington Library & Botanical Gardens. Let me know if you’re interested. I’ll take comments here through the end of the year.

The winter solstice, with longer days just ahead — is this a wonderful time of year or what?

Posted in clippings, edibles, inspire me, journal, MB Maher, photography | Tagged , | 8 Comments

summer is overrated

 photo P1010010_1.jpg

Agave bracteosa ‘Monterrey Frost’

I know those are fighting words, especially depending on where you live and your opinion of winter in general, and I’m not trying to pick a fight. We all miss those long days that stretch luxuriously into a warm twilight then blur into a sultry evening, when all of a sudden it’s 9 p.m. and you haven’t had dinner yet — but if you’re a bunch of plants living in a Los Angeles garden tended by one woman, November is indisputably on your side.

 photo P1010010.jpg

And then there’s this intoxicatingly slanted light that makes my garden look like I’m walking into a Terrence Malick movie every morning.

 photo P1010033.jpg

 photo P1010025.jpg

I’m embarrassed to admit just how much time I’m spending staring at the light this time of year. Usually the first pot of coffee is consumed in this sole pursuit, and sometimes the second pot too.

 photo P1010021.jpg

And all because of this orbital business of the earth tilting on its axis, light once again becomes a friend and not a bully. And you can splurge on salvias as winter annuals, because unlike in summer the flowers open slow and last and last. (Salvia chamaedryoides x ‘Marine Blue’)

 photo P1010118.jpg

The plants and I can finally relax.

 photo P1010014_1.jpg

 photo P1010075.jpg

Okay, so Thanksgiving was over 90 degrees, but we know that’s a short-term anomaly that won’t stretch on interminably for months and months. We can deal.

 photo P1010025_1.jpg

We can deal because we are closer than ever to the rainy season, however meager it may be.

 photo P1010004.jpg

Sure, the days are shorter, but when the sun isn’t making you cry uncle anymore you find yourself immersed in those timeless moments like staring into and pondering the heart of natural mysteries.

 photo P1010021_1.jpg

 photo P1010008_1.jpg

 photo P1010001.jpg

 photo P1010002.jpg

 photo P1010008.jpg

 photo P1010020.jpg

And then there are the winter-blooming aloes stirring, like Aloe cameronii.

 photo P1010012_1.jpg

Counting aloe buds is a favorite pursuit this time of year. ‘Moonglow’ has two trusses budding up.

 photo P1010014.jpg

Shriveled-up Aeonium balsamiferum relaxes again into plump rosettes.

 photo P1010039.jpg

Succulents are so much happier in the cooler weather, giving positive reinforcement for experimentation and new mashups.

 photo P1010080.jpg

I’m basically inventing stuff to do just to be outside — repot this, move that. Agave ocahui ‘Wavy Gravy’ was beyond ready for a bigger container.

 photo P1010028.jpg

Neglected projects are pursued with a vigor not seen since spring. Rescue the hechtia being swallowed whole by the agaves in the gravel garden? Done.

 photo P1010029.jpg

 photo P1010024.jpg

The long-delayed bird bath project? Done.

 photo P1010026.jpg

And there’s the undeniable appeal of digging and moving heavy stuff around without breaking a sweat.

 photo P1010077.jpg

Young potted plants love this gentle autumn light, as opposed to the scalding glare of summer.

 photo P1010057.jpg

 photo P1010099.jpg

After a season of winter sun, Agave cerulata just might be ready for full sun next summer.

 photo P1010102.jpg

Pelargonium echinatum is done with summer dormancy, brought back to life with a big drink of water.

 photo P1010011.jpg

Agave xylonacantha finally gets a bigger pot.

 photo P1010018.jpg

 photo P1010012.jpg

And because it’s such a joy to be outside, you try all kinds of crazy things with stuff on hand, like inventing new supports for tillandsias, birdbaths, etc.

 photo P1010036.jpg

Just giving props to autumn, because it’s the most fun I’ve had in the garden since spring.

Posted in agaves, woody lilies, climate, Occasional Daily Weather Report, pots and containers, succulents | Tagged | 19 Comments

new and semi-new plants

 photo P1010017.jpg

perky pilocereus at OC Succulents

What plants have grabbed your attention lately? Last week I was chasing down a hard-to-find compact form of one of California’s native buckwheats, Eriogonum giganteum var. compactum. The Grow Native nursery at Rancho Santa Ana Botanic Garden currently has about 30 on offer in 4-inch pots, reason enough for me to justify the hour’s drive to the foothills to grab three of them.

Photobucket

I’ve been excited to trial this elusive form of St. Catherine’s Lace for some time. Even though the distinction between compact forms and full size can be subtle, if not meaningless, there’s no way of knowing other than growing the plant yourself. Salvia leucantha ‘Santa Barbara’ is supposedly a compact form, but I failed to note any appreciable difference in ultimate size. Currently I’m growing a so-called compact form of Tagetes lemmonii, the big, shrubby, late-blooming Copper Canyon Daisy with the fruity-scented leaves. Even confined to a stock tank, in its first year it’s closing in on 6 feet in height. I’m not one to heedlessly advocate dwarf forms of plants, but in small gardens they can be undeniably useful.

 photo 1-P1014203.jpg

In 2016-17 I was crushing on another buckwheat, Eriogonum crocatum, which was found at Theodore Payne’s nursery, glimpsed here in March 2017. It was last seen being engulfed by a miscanthus in mid-summer. It’s a lovely buckwheat, silver leaves with chartreuse flowers.

 photo P1010564.jpg

Sometimes I have to grow a new plant a few times before a lasting impression is formed. I brought home Salvia curviflora last week, pictured above, thinking it was making its debut in my garden, only to find its debut was actually made in 2013.

 photo P1010822.jpg

my garden, Kalanchoe thyrsiflora with Salvia curviflora, 2013

I ran across the 2013 blog entry on the salvia when checking on flapjack kalanchoes, which grow towering flower spikes in winter here. Recently Gail (Piece of Eden) had invited me to her home to attend a meeting of her garden club. Strolling her garden after the meeting, there it was, Kalanchoe thyrsiflora enlongated in epic bloom, whereupon I was attacked by pangs of envy.

 photo P1010011.jpg

I always kick myself in winter for not persevering with this succulent through summer, when it has to be protected from being overwhelmed by rampant summer growth. But I love vertical lines in the garden, and no less in winter when everything else is in retreat, so I couldn’t resist a couple large plants in bloom I found discounted at OC Succulents in Torrance. Each blooming rosette will die off after flowering, hence the discount. I can grow on the offsets to blooming size or treat it as a winter annual.

 photo P1010016.jpg

Lots of cacti in 2-inch pots at OC Succulents. Nicholas Staddon remarked that 50 percent of California nursery growers were lost in the recession.

The speaker at Gail’s garden club meeting was Nicholas Staddon, now with Village Nurseries after a stint with Monrovia, and he was full of interesting new plant news. I’d just planted this fall a couple Lavandula ‘Silver Anouk,’ which Mr. Staddon singled out as a great foliage plant, not particularly the best lavender for blooms. The variegated lavender ‘Meerlo’ is similarly best appreciated for its foliage since it rarely blooms, but it is long-lived, a rare trait in lavenders. Also exceptionally long-lived for a lavender, possibly up to seven years, is ‘Goodwin Creek Gray,’ heading into its second year in my garden. A compact leucadendron, ‘Hawaiian Magic,’ should be widely available in 2-3 years. Mr. Staddon considers Hesperaloe ‘Desert Flamenco’ to be the most floriferous, with 9-10 months of bloom, while Hesperaloe ‘Pink Parade’ has leaves as large as a yucca’s. Ceanothus maritimus ‘Valley Violet,’ with smoky purple flowers rather than the typical blue, has merited inclusion among the august company of other UC Davis Arboretum All-Stars, an honor not easily obtained. And the best desert willow in his opinion is hands down Chilopsis linearis ‘Desert Diva,’ discovered by Mountain States, for whom Mr. Staddon also consults. He also had glowing praise for Callistemon ‘Bottle Pop,’ among many other plants I’ve not mentioned.

 photo 1-P1014626.jpg

We all marveled at the rapid ascent in popularity of Acacia ‘Cousin Itt,’ even though most of us (excluding Kris, also in attendance) have had mostly poor results so far. Mr. Staddon suspects the difficulty may lie with nursery stock being lightly rooted, so check the rootball before purchase.

Posted in plant crushes, plant nurseries, Plant Portraits | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

autumn garden triage


 photo P1017134.jpg

I spent most of October traveling, intermittently home just long enough to sweep up piles of ash and note that the customary accumulation of a summer’s worth of city grime on leaves had been augmented by heavy particulates from local wildfires. That smothering combination was especially troublesome for woolly, pubescent leaves like those of sideritis, some of which died, as opposed to the smooth, glabrous leaves of succulents like agaves, which could be easily hosed off.

 photo P1010002.jpg

The big tetrapanax leaves seemed especially challenged by the combination of grime and then heat. I tried hosing off the black shadow monster residue encrusted in the rice paper leaves’ venation (how about that season 2 of Stranger Things?), without much success, and then the 100+ heat wave finished off most of the leaves, crisping and curling them into old parchment just as the flowers started to form.

 photo P1016608.jpg

Even though I was absent most of October, it was easy enough to read the garden’s tea leaves and understand what a stressful time it endured without me. Lobelia fistulosa, tall and healthy when I left in early October, collapsed entirely in the Santa Ana wind conditions and high temperatures. In autopsy mode, studying its skeletal remains, I noted how it was bathed in strong sunlight as opposed to the morning sun/afternoon shade conditions in which it was planted. More tea leaves to read. It was then I realized my neighbor had cut back most of the overhanging canopy of his pepper tree while I was away. Rotten luck for the lobelia during a heat wave. This photo was taken last July with the caption: “Lobelia fistulosa, which looks healthy and on track to bloom next year.” Not on track after all, but now completely derailed. That Euphorbia stygiana had given up long before October. Euphorbias mellifera and lambii go to the head of the line as most reliable of the big euphorbias for my garden.

 photo P1010035.jpg

No triage needed here: Recently planted Grevillea ‘King’s Fire’ flourished while I was away.

 photo P1017082.jpg

You know that newly in love phase when a stunning plant first joins the garden? That’s where I’m still at with this gorgeous redhead with the silver leaves.

 photo P1010037.jpg

 photo P1010020.jpg

Grevillea ‘King’s Rainbow’ was just weeks in the ground before the heat wave hit yet doesn’t seem fazed at all. My kind of plant.

 photo P1017075.jpg

I always suspect Phyllica pubescens is just waiting for any flimsy excuse to die, but to its credit it did endure a very hostile October.

 photo P1017056.jpg

The bocconia in the back is sporting some seriously bare nekkid legs. As the fleshy leaves are continuously shed, they slide to the ground with a loud plop. Lots of plopping going on. Hopefully, its winter plumage will fill in soon.

 photo P1010032.jpg

Leaves of Aloe cameronii became somewhat ruddier, not a bad thing at all. And I can’t believe I let Aeonium ‘Mardi Gras’ deal with full sun all summer, but I did, and it’s fine.

 photo P1016964-001.jpg

Senecio palmeri, shown here planted in September, shrunk by two-thirds. I cut off the dead growth and remain hopeful for the rest. I saw lots of this senecio at Santa Barbara Botanic Garden recently, where it was flourishing in full sun, so I know it’s tough. (SBBG has a great nursery, and I couldn’t resist bringing home Lephechinia fragrans ‘El Tigre,’ which I had just seen in a local SB garden the day before. I’ve mostly been steering clear of lepechinias since trying out L. hastata, which is much too big for my garden.)

 photo P1010026.jpg

A shallow bowl of Echeveria purpureum purpusorum left in full sun looks none the worse for wear.

 photo P1017101.jpg

 photo P1010027.jpg

While some of my agaves showed damage, Aloe striata withstood the heat wave’s blast without blemish. The little silver leaves belong to Dichondra sericea, brought home in May 2016.

 photo P1010005.jpg

Like Aloe striata, the silver spoons kalanchoe is recommended for sun or partial shade. Even so, it sailed through the 100+ temps and dessicating winds and is now getting ready for winter bloom.

 photo P1010038.jpg

Agave geminiflora keeps coloring deeper and deeper. Again, not a bad thing. I’m so attracted by this ruddy contrast with silver that I dialed it up by adding for winter a ‘Red Planet’ cordyline with some rusty-colored aechmeas and pale Cotyledon orbiculata dug up from elsewhere in the garden.

 photo P1017059.jpg

Agave ‘Blue Flame’ was showing leaf burn even before the heat wave, after I pulled off some pups and exposed that previously protected side to full sun. I cleaned it up a couple days ago, cutting off most of the burned leaves and cleaning out the debris that accumulated under its leaves, a nasty job. I felt as virtuous afterwards as if I’d cleaned out under the fridge. And then I had to offer that scratched arm to the phlebotomist yesterday for a routine blood draw. I don’t think he understood what “cleaning out an agave” really means.

 photo P1017022.jpg

Another trouble child I fret over is Agave gypsophila ‘Ivory Curls,’ which is especially prone to leaf-tip burn. Maybe, in this instance, crowding it among other plants provided some measure of protection.

 photo P1010008_2.jpg

Agave ‘Royal Spine,’ which had burst through and shattered its previous pot, got a new home when the potted Adenanthos ‘Silver Haze’ succumbed to the heat. I had left the agave in its shattered pot all summer, which I justified as a form of open-air root pruning (or neglect, if you insist on looking at it that way).

 photo P1017012.jpg

A grassy-leaved aloe hybrid, Aloe ‘Topaz,’ recently moved into more sun, is finally throwing its first blooms.

 photo P1010030.jpg

It was getting swamped mid garden but immediately responded to the increased air circulation and full sunlight on its leaves — which is basically the story of so many plants in my garden, which would prefer to live at the edge and not the interior. Unfortunately, there’s a fixed amount of “edgy” real estate available. Just yesterday I moved an Aloe camperi to a sunnier location. I do this a lot, growing new plants in less-than-optimal conditions until more accommodating digs open up.

 photo P1010031_1.jpg

Aloe conifera hated being in the garden, but has been coaxed back to life in a container.

 photo P1010001.jpg

With the changing light, potted plants are once again on the move, like the variegated form of Kalanchoe beharensis brought out into the post-heat wave, softer autumnal light.

 photo P1010020_1.jpg

The past couple nights raccoons have been roughing up bromeliads planted in the ground, turning them over for slugs and snails. Aechmea bromeliifolia var. rubra in a container was unscathed.

 photo P1017057_1.jpg

That’s probably enough plant talk! It just feels so good to dig around again in the cooler temperatures. And there’s talk of possible rain for Los Angeles the next couple days.

 photo P1017059_1.jpg

Have a great weekend.

Posted in agaves, woody lilies, garden ornament, garden travel, garden visit, journal, pots and containers, succulents | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

postcards from Santa Barbara gardens

Ever since the area became accessible by car and rail in the early part of the 20th century, it has been a favored location for estates and marvelous gardens, among them El Fureidis, Val Verde, and Lotusland. — The Lightest Touch; Isabelle Greene’s Enduring Design for the Lovelace Garden.

 photo P1010133.jpg

Last week I found myself in Santa Barbara on a Mediterranean Garden Society bus tour with garden lovers from all over the world; Australia, Spain, Portugal, Italy, England, Greece, Switzerland. That I managed to be there at all was entirely due to the kindness of Shelley Harter, who answered my laughably tardy inquiries two days before the tour was to begin and said yes, there was still space available and I’d be most welcome. I don’t know why I’m always surprised when these sketchy, last-minute plans of mine pan out, because it’s been proven again and again that plants and garden people are unfailingly the nicest, warmest group of people I’ve ever had the privilege to know. Even when late October temps uncharacteristically reached a stupefying 105 degrees Fahrenheit, the comaraderie never faltered as the bus chugged along roads against the majestic backdrop of the Santa Ynez Mountains.

 photo P1010036.jpg

The MGS annual meeting took place in Los Angeles/Pasadena the end of last week, and the Santa Barbara tour of Lotusland (which I’d visited a few times before, see here), the Santa Barbara Botanic Garden, and other estates and private gardens earlier in the week was denoted as a “pretrip” to the annual meeting. Marty and I camped at El Capitan State Beach and drove in to town to meet up with the tour bus each morning. While I toured, Marty visited museums, swam in the ocean, ran along the beach, then met up with me around 6 p.m. every day to head back to our camp, where we explored the beach then roasted sausages over a campfire as bats took wing into the twilight sky. It was a little slice of heaven less than three hours from Los Angeles.

 photo P1010154-001.jpg

Santa Barbara is permeated by Spanish influence, starting with its name and ending with its building codes, which after the 1925 earthquake mandated that all new buildings be relatively low-slung and constructed in the Spanish Revival style. This design homogeneity, as well as the mediterranean climate, reinforces its reputation as the “American Riviera.” The climate easily encourages any budding love of plants and gardens, just as the periodic droughts, price of water, and fire ecology push back hard to test that love. Hearts are broken, meetings with insurance adjusters are set, and some choose not to rebuild. Nearly every garden we visited contained at least a few charred trees, while some houses and gardens were entirely rebuilt after the devastating Tea Fire of 2008. A landscape architect on the tour from Northern California, whose house was destroyed just weeks ago in the wine country fires, said seeing these homes and gardens reborn gave him some much-needed optimism.

 photo P1010043.jpg

The Spanish/Moorish influence is seen in the gardens as well, in the use of evergreen hedging, shaded seating areas, water running in fountains and rills, vistas arrayed along an axis.

 photo P1010030.jpg

This owner-designed private garden is a modern-day example of the Country Place Era, a period in landscape design beginning in the late 19th century extending to the 1940s, when European influence was the inspiration for the early 20th century American estates designed by the likes of Jens Jensen, Beatrix Farrand, Fletcher Steele, Lockwood de Forest, Jr., Warren Manning, Charles Platt, and Ellen Shipman.

 photo P1010070.jpg

 photo P1010080.jpg

 photo P1010076.jpg

 photo P1010103.jpg

Oil jar encircled with Agave attenuta, box, and in the background, clipped westringia, which Australian visitors instantly recognized. The international perspective on the gardens was a huge part of the enjoyment for me.

 photo P1010055.jpg

This garden had just days before replaced lawn pathways for crushed rock. I can’t imagine the green of lawn here now, as the crushed rock emphasized the garden’s place in a landscape surrounded by buff-colored mountains that shimmered in the heat. To my eye at least, the crushed rock also strengthens the overall design, contrasting with the evergreens.

 photo P1010089.jpg

 photo P1010088.jpg

Other areas of lawn, used in the past for games for a younger household, have been whittled down as well. The owner expressed her frustration with drip irrigation and has decided to rip it out. You just never know when the drip hoses are failing until something is dead, was one of the reasons she gave, along with the spike in water bills being the only indicator of a leak somewhere in the system. She keeps a daily water journal, recording meter readings for the garden which are kept separate from the house’s water use. The privacy the family prizes from trees surrounding the property is constantly under threat as trees and shrubs die off in the current, extended drought. Last winter’s rains unfortunately favored Northern California over Southern California.

 photo P1010183.jpg

Succulent gardens were another theme, and there were fantastic collectors’ gardens on the tour. These hoses are a crucial clue to this garden’s good looks in late October. The owner, Jeff Chemnick, a field botanist, irrigates once a week and is liberal with 20/20/20 fertilizer too. He said his cycads in particular were suffering and yellowing before this regimen. Since visiting this garden, I’ve been wondering if my succulents suffer leaf burn in heat waves because I’m so stingy with water.

 photo P1010195-001.jpg

 photo P1010187-001.jpg

 photo P1010176-001.jpg

There were acres like this, packed with rarities of cactus, palms, cycads, tree aloes, cussonia, agaves. An intriguing twist to this garden is that everything you see is for sale, catering to those desiring large, mature specimens. Any resultant gaps in the garden happily make room for newfound acquisitions, many waiting in the wings, grown from seed collected on his frequent expeditions to Mexico. If he’d rather not part with a particularly rare agave, for example, he simply places an absurdly high price on it. Some of the largest, most pristine Agave guiengolas I’ve ever seen were in this garden. (You can read more about Jeff Chemnick, who handled our barrage of questions with incredible good humor, on his site Aloes in Wonderland.)

 photo P1010144-002.jpg

The pachypodium in flower drew lots of interest from tour-goers.

 photo P1010186.jpg

 photo P1010206.jpg

Isabelle Greene’s work was the most naturalistic example on the tour, avoiding hard angles where possible and settling lightly into the surrounding chapparal. The naturalistic swimming pool she designed for the Lovelaces in the 1970s was a revelation then and is still as shockingly serene today, crazy as that sounds. I guess I’m used to overly designed gardens, not underdesigned, yet this quiet vision is the result of an enormous engineering undertaking. All rocks were found on site. This sensitive treatment of the landscape honors many thriving heritage oaks, which are notoriously distressed by supplemental irrigation.

 photo P1010212.jpg

More examples of Isabelle Greene’s work. (A visit I did not record to her own house and garden was a highlight of the tour.)

 photo P1010234.jpg

 photo P1010224-002.jpg

 photo P1010114.jpg

Lockwood de Forest, Jr., in addition to his work on Lotusland, worked as landscape designer for another estate on our tour, Casa del Herrero, a national historic landmark built in the 1920s, “considered one of the most fully developed and intact examples of America’s Country Place Era that took form and flourished on the West Coast in the early 20th century.” (see here).

 photo P1010109.jpg

The eight-pointed star is rich in meaning to many cultures throughout the millenia, here seen in the shape of a shallow pool/fountain at Casa del Herrero.

 photo P1010127.jpg

The “House of the Blacksmith” is now controlled by a nonprofit at the behest of the original owners’ grandchildren. (de Forest’s work on an estate many consider to be the apex of the Country Place Era, Lotusland’s neighbor, Austin Val Verde, will remain unseen for the foreseeable future, currently in private hands after years of contentious legal disputes that successfully beat back plans to open the estate to the public.)

 photo P1010105.jpg

 photo P1010130.jpg

 photo P1010117.jpg

 photo P1010091.jpg

Swimming pools help ease the heat of the long, dry summer.

 photo P1010006.jpg

The recent addition of a skirt of paillettes has given this bench as much sparkle as the sunlit pool.

 photo P1010156.jpg

I had to look this one up. The Blue Ginger, Dichorisandra thyrsiflora, in Jeff Chemnick’s garden.

Attending the Mediterranean Garden Society’s meeting in 2018 will take a little more careful planning on my part. It will be held in Costa Blanca, Spain.

 photo P1010083.jpg

Posted in agaves, woody lilies, climate, garden ornament, garden travel, pots and containers | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments