With the heat wave mostly over, yesterday I drove south to Newport Beach for some garden time. Bathed in the cool coastal conditions at the Pacific Ocean, the Sherman Gardens & Library are a genteel lunch and garden destination that always has something worth looking at. The succulent and cactus garden, for instance. The first clue that this was not going to be a relaxing wander through the lath houses and brick pathways was the free admission. Didn’t I used to have to pay to get in? The entrance had been changed as well. The newly improvised entrance led straight into the succulent garden.
The path out of the succulent garden led into what used to be the central planting area that opened up as you entered from the old entrance. These beds were mass-planted with ranunculus. The rest of the gardens, estimating maybe 75 percent, were under renovation, blocked with fencing. So head’s up: Call before you go. The renovations look to be extensive.
From the website I should have checked before visiting:
“Pardon Our Dust!
From March 9–27, enjoy free admission to the gardens. Please enter on Dahlia Avenue and follow the signage marked “Enter Here.”
We are laying important pipes and will close the pathway that leads to the central garden until March 21. You can still enjoy our adobe courtyard, train display, pepper tree, and succulent garden.”
peeking through the construction fencefrom a visit in 2020, the central path between the lath houses, looking roughly toward where the construction fence is now to the rightUnless I’ve got my orientation completely wrong, this is the central area in 2020, this year planted with ranunculusThis planting in 2020 would be just beyond the construction fence
There was, however, an indoor clivia show and sale. Not growing clivia and not particularly interested in doing so, I spun around the entrance a few times before plunging through the doorway and into an unfamiliar horticultural world.
clivia are dappled shade plants for the greenhouse or zones 9-11 that require dry and cool resting periods in winter to bloom well
It’s not often I’m surrounded by plants with which I have no point of connection. But what I could connect with was the hybridizer’s zeal and enthusiasm that was evident in the varied shapes and colors of the clivia blooms. They were identified only with numbers, no names.
similar colors and flowers shapes with Vireya rhododendrons
in vases I was reminded of freesias but without the strong scent
The clivia show and sale continues on Sunday, March 22, 2026.
We were given pencil and paper to vote for our favorite, and I chose No. 7, which reminded me of Alstroemeria isabellana
After leaving the Sherman, and starved for lunch, I grabbed some sushi and headed for the Newport Beach Civic Center, where I lunched with agaves, dyckias, dragon trees and cactus.
A pink-flowered puya in bloom, possibly Puya spathacea
lots of spineless dyckias were massed near the path, possibly the cultivar ‘Naked Lady’
Dragon tree underplanted with Euphorbia resinifera
It was a day of contrasts, for sure. More soon, AGO
first poppy, a dwarf breadseed — in bud last night, in flower this morning. Papaver setigerum
Monday morning dawned fresh and cool with a minor epiphany. Stepping out the backdoor, the opening of the first poppy scrambles a sleepy brain with the sensation of a delicate jellyfish floating over the garden (upside down).
Salvia ‘Waverly’ in large pot planted from a one-gallon in November, needing water every morning this week
This week’s West Coast heat wave has been written up in all the national newspapers. Yesterday, taking in our nightly PBS Newshour, we were dumbfounded to be looking at our local park on the newscast, near the beach where Marty runs, with locals being interviewed on how hot it’s been. As much as 35 degrees above normal for this time of year, is how hot it’s been.
house at the beach where Marty runs and we walk Billie, stopping to admire this flawless Agave guiengola ‘Creme Brulee,’ a large, soft-leaved agave that’s not easy to grow unblemished
Monday wasn’t too bad, with a lovely scrim of morning fog, then reaching mid 80sF in the afternoon. Tuesday soared to a stupor-inducing 99F. *Wednesday is predicted to stay in the 80sF here at the coast and through the week. (*Edited to add: W-F reached 90F here at the coast.)
With the garden set to return to autopilot when we leave in a few weeks, it’s time to get the final tweaks in as far as best chances for survival. Emergency moves included a large clump of pyrrosia that was poorly sited and getting burned by some sneaky shafts of sunlight penetrating the grevillea’s canopy. Neighbors have promised to check in and water the pots.
salvia thriving even in full reflective sun
A couple weeks ago the Garden Conservancy put out a request for volunteer docents for their Palm Springs Open Days this Saturday. What a great day trip! Checking the forecast, I was dumbfounded that it could get that hot in March. Regretfully, no way. Not a good look when the docent passes out in the garden.
this salvia just exudes cool even in a heat wave
planted today Sideritis syriacus from High Country Gardens
A box of plants arrived Monday from High Country Gardens, impeccably packed and on time, most destined for the Oregon garden (intriguing Verbascum ‘Letitia’). I built the order around the only source I could find for sideritis, plants I really miss having in the garden. I’m hoping these two Sideritis syriacus reseed, as it has in the past. With the forecast showing cooling at the coast, these were planted this morning.
the past few years I started adding lots of new varieties of tulbaghia. Incredibly tough plants. This is ‘Flamingo’
fairly sure this is ‘Tequila Sunrise’ kangaroo paw, very tall and slender
There’s been more activity at the far boundary wall since Bilbergia ‘Hallelujah’ was introduced there.
the remnants of a formerly largish brick patio nibbled away over the years for more planting area
former patio now barely holds a stool. Pot holds Sansevieri:a cylindrica aka Dracaena angolensis
Other shady characters are on the move to the cool back wall too, including more bromeliads and a few ferns, Blechnum gibbum ‘Silver Lady,’ Asplenium bulbifera and Pleopeltis lepidopteris. The latter tolerates dry conditions very well, not sure about the other two…
funnel planter was getting some witheringly strong morning sun and needed a change of exposure
a small clump of pyrrosia tucked into the cool shade against the wall
ferns getting a trial here like Blechnum ‘Silver Lady’
Queensland Bottle Trees at the flea market on a mild morning last Sunday. Brachychiton rupestris.
Canopy of my container-grown Brachychiton discolor, a large-leaf evergreen bottle tree
African Veldt Grass at the beach
What I’ve been calling couch grass has been identified by a landscape restorationist neighbor as African Veldt Grass. It is a fairly recent menace and of the very worst kind. Ehrharta erecta (annual) and Ehrharta calycina (perennial) are both perpetually in seed spread by birds, wind, shoes, etc. One of my short-lived theories accounting for its vigorous presence in the garden was that the generous spacing around plants now that I’m not here full time allowed in more weeds. There was rarely bare soil showing when I gardened year-round. But this nasty weed penetrates the densest clumps of sesleria and tulbaghia and sneaks in under the rosettes of large succulents. It infests the entire neighborhood now and needs constant vigilance to control. I really don’t recall it in the garden prior to 2020. My neighbor used Fusilade when eradicating this weed from acres of native plant communities.
With temps in Los Angeles unable to stay out of the 80s°F for long, the absence of a picnic table in my life rose to the level of an all-consuming void. Marty knows this fixation of mine well and has talked me out of my sense of picnic table deprivation for years. Too big, too heavy, termite candy, another albatross to maneuver around, not critical, important or necessary. And the kicker: We’re spending summers elsewhere. All sound arguments against.
Sonchus palmensis jumped into bloom this warm week. 87F on Sunday March 8.
That I’ve long craved a picnic table and not just another table and chairs or benches might have had something to do with everything signified by “picnic” — a lark, an escape, an impromptu playful gathering. The more chaotic things get, the more power that word holds over me.
Last weekend I idly search-stringed “modern picnic table” and was shown a powder-coated, lightweight aluminum table and benches with rounded corners. Orange color on sale. With tax return in the bank, I dusted off my standard picnic table pitch but this time had photos and dimensions. To make him laugh, I included my disingenuous running joke of a justification, “Think of the parties we’ll have!” (He prefers more parties than I do.).
benches tuck under table for a small footprint, and the fence works as back support if desired
This time the pitch worked, and my arguments in favor won the day. The table arrived three days later. In the interim I admit to worrying that my picnic table fever just possibly made me an easy mark for some junky merchandise.
The hardscaped east side of the house has been bare since downsizing pots and stuff in 2021. In other words, crying out for a picnic table. The orange Loll couch was moved beyond the fringe tree in the background.
Marty assembled the table and benches in under two hours, expressing admiration for the packaging, design, assembly instructions, and inclusion of all necessary components. He loves it and is no doubt dreaming of the parties we’ll have (ha!)…and with picnic weather temperatures nearly year-round now in Los Angeles, my crazy picnic table fixation arguably just makes good sense.
When the blog Late to the Garden Party, a steadying presence appearing on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, abruptly stopped at Monday, I wrote yesterday: “Hi Kris — what a disturbance in my world when there’s no Wed/Friday posts by you. Just letting you know your garden musings are missed — maybe a Blogger issue?” This morning Kris’ husband Jeff responded that Kris has some medical issues and will resume blogging as soon as she’s able. So we’ll all have to be patient until that kind, thoughtful voice rejoins our online community. Feel better soon, Kris!
“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.” (lath house Jeff built for Kris, AGO 2018)
Some plant failures just don’t let go. Three tries is generally considered reasonable, but after that? After that, reason doesn’t have much to do with it anymore.
Aloe polyphylla
At my local nursery, coming upon a few gallons of the spiral aloe, I had to admonish myself to keep walking. Don’t stop to admire, just keep walking. Walk on by. Even so, I reflexively engage in the habitual process of mentally ticking off pros and cons, as in: That’s a pretty good price, $20/gallon. Remember when a spiral aloe was prohibitively pricey and/or mostly unavailable? Maybe tissue culture is easing scarcity.
Many years ago I had a spiral aloe about five times this size, but I bought it at that size from a grower in Northern California at the Great Petaluma Desert Nursery — that one never spiraled either.
And the cons: Remember how this aloe doesn’t appreciate hot, dry conditions but requires impossible-to-meet conditions? Alpine conditions. Cool, moist, but not too wet, strategic drainage. And after multiple attempts, I’ve never had one survive much less do the mythic spiraling thing. Fool, spiral aloes love the Bay Area, not Southern California, so keep walking! But that price…I apologize in advance, little aloe, for the torment you’re about to receive. Unappreciative of temps over 80F is a tricky requirement when yesterday, on February 27, we pegged over 90F…
annual Isotoma ‘Bottle Rocket Blue,’ about a foot tall and wide
Other than the spiral aloe and reintroducing shrubs previously grown, Phyllica pubescens, Leucadendron ‘Ebony,’ Alyogyne ‘Ruth Bancroft,’ there’s been no new planting, just working with what’s been surviving the half-year absences. With a few minor exceptions like playing around with an intriguing annual I’ve never grown before, found locally, Isotoma ‘Bottle Rocket Blue’ from Australia. Possibly perennial here.
Feather bush Phyllica pubescens backed by isotomaPhyllica pubescens in 2013
Felicia echinata
The Dune Daisy is newish to the garden. I really like the wiry energy and endurance of this little daisy. This is its second year living in a container with other dry-tolerant stuff like the caudiciform Pseudobombax ellipticum.
This tender South African perennial has a very tidy, evergreen presentation of tall wiry stems with stiff, deep green, small, myrtle-like leaves.
About four buds are showing on this leucospermum bought at a Huntington Beach nursery closing sale in 2024, ‘Brandi Dela Cruz’
Several varieties of the South African pincushions have graced the garden in the past. They need sun and lots of room, and those conditions are both moving targets depending on what else is growing. Leucospermum ‘Brandi Dela Cruz’ was planted in 2024 just outside the shade canopy of Grevillea ‘Moonlight’ but getting less than the full-day sun that’s ideal.
Aloe ‘Chompers’?
Exciting to see the first bloom truss on an aloe labeled ‘Chompers.’ It’s impossible to find a reference for it now. A divaricata selection by Kelly Griffin (or so I thought), I like its relatively lightweight structure, in leaf and flower. A see-through aloe.
it needs a few more trusses for better garden legibility
new plants like Alyogyne ‘Ruth Bancroft’ settling in for a good soak. Trunk on the left is sprawling Yucca ‘Magenta Magic’
Because so rare, rain is a big deal in Southern California and stirs up intense feelings. Will it be too much? Not enough? Will the roads flood? Will there be mudslides? Will it be more than we can handle or a disappointing nonevent? Whether it fills you with dread, annoyance or excitement, rain has come to town again this week, the debut of the Lunar New Year, and settled in as a slick backdrop to daily life. And daily life has become vibrantly colorized by neighborhood festivities celebrating the Year of the Horse.
Yucca ‘Magenta Magic’
A full day of rain on Monday was spent in the garden office, door open, me on a divan with a laptop to scroll news (will SCOTUS weigh in on tariffs finally?) but mostly staring through the doorway at the changing patterns of rain and wind and marveling at the novelty of precipitation in the garden. There was some excited whooping when the downpour became so intense on the galvanized pergola roof as to drown out conscious thought. Billie chose a lookout spot half in the office, half in the garden, paws on the doorsill, nose in the rain-fresh air. (After an early morning encounter about a week ago, she still smells slightly of skunk when her fur is wet but not much worse than tulbaghia/society garlic at this point.) Marty sits at his computer desk checking news, tackling the Los Angeles Times crossword puzzles, getting ready for taxes.
Aeoniums love the winter rain. What I’ve considered Aeonium balsamiferum is probably something else. This slow-growing aeonium has always remained a prostrate ground cover, whereas the Balsam Houseleek is supposedly shrublike. I’ve had this aeonium for aeons, growing with (and smothering) ledebouria
Begonia ‘Spirit of Pemba’ still in a nursery gallon, responding to the rain
Tuesday was dry, so we headed out for walks and to check out the local Vietnamese temple in full regalia for the Year of the Horse, following the scent of astonishing amounts of free food being prepped and cooked in covered but open air kitchens. Perfect weather for pho. On the walk Billie enthusiastically drinks from the abundant puddles, as if it’s her only source of water. Must be an evolutionary hangover for her.
at the temple which draws devotees from miles away. Parking in the neighborhood is severely impacted during week-long festivities. Long Beach saw a significant influx of Vietnamese and Cambodian refugees in the ’80s and ’90s in a diaspora known in shorthand as the “boat people” — LB has the largest Cambodian population outside Southeast Asia.
temple-goers walking down our street this week
a small glimpse of the extensive outdoor kitchen on the temple grounds
Attributed to the imperial court painter Han Gan of the Tang dynasty, Night-Shining White is widely regarded as one of the most important horse paintings in Chinese art history, and one of the few surviving examples from the Tang era. From Artnet’s “It’s the Year of the Horse! Here Are 6 Iconic Horse Works From Throughout Art History”).
Overnight rain Tuesday/Wednesday leaves some remnant small puddles in the morning. A possum on the fence caught out after sunrise was a noteworthy occurrence for Billie. Wednesday was all turbulent wind, no rain.
new growth of purple tradescantia color-bombs Mangave ‘Mission to Mars’
with flowers about an inch and a half across, this very non-florist-like gerbera showed promise for more naturalistic plantings. Planted early 2025, It appeared either dead or dormant last fall after a dry summer but has rebounded with the rain — didn’t record the name, something silly and forgettable no doubt
looking mid garden to the east fence — there’s no more moves to make! Newly planted shrubs this visit are Leucadendron ‘Ebony’ (again), Phyllica pubescens (again), and Alyogyne ‘Ruth Bancroft’ (again). It took a lot of pondering to find full sun for all three, avoiding the winter shade band. ‘Ebony’ is dark smudge lower left, near the pewter bush Strobilanthes gossypina. All the agaves pictured are variants of attenuata except distant Agave ellemeetiana, which is similar to attenuata except it does not trunk. Some of the easiest, most neglectable plants in the garden.
Leucadendron ‘Ebony’ in particular is tricky to site. Backlighting helps offset a potential black hole effect from such dark leaves
At Natural History Museum studying bugs in habitat — just kidding, what draws kids in more than spiders having a tea party?
Thursday was a good solid day of rain that we mostly spent at the Natural History Museum with lunch at the Michelin-starred food court Holbox.
Friday and Saturday were dry. Taxes are done. SCOTUS ruled on tariffs fwiw. And I finally had a fish taco to love since my go-to source closed. Dry for now but maybe more rain next week. Lunar New Year festivities end with the Lantern Festival on March 3. More soon, AGO.
Within a day or two before leaving the Long Beach garden last spring, Grevillea ‘Moonlight’ sheared off an enormous middle branch, violently bifurcating that luminous, stately canopy into goofy ears. The tear was rough and I assumed possibly fatal, but there was no time to address the disaster — or solution really. This February has produced a mighty flush of flowers on a 12-foot, V-shaped tree, so the solution appears to be to leave it alone for now. It is a fast-growing shrub/small tree in constant bloom that I would immediately replace if lost entirely.
nice foreground against a hot blue sky
For wildlife, this grevillea is the mainstay of the garden, whatever its awkward shape. With the aloes covering about two months of blooms, December and January, the kangaroo paws now taking up the baton and fattening up long-lasting flower spikes for early spring, I feel the garden is in good hands whether I’m home or away. Did I choose these plants for their wildlife benefits? Honestly, no. I chose them for their beauty and low-water use. As the garden continues its self-editing process while I’m away half the year, I never know what to expect. Many other plants I chose were either too rampant (passiflora) or unsuitable for a summer-dry garden (melianthus). I’ve got a makeshift roster of friends and neighbors who help to water containers (so they say!), but the garden itself gets no deep watering for the months I’m away.
Grevillea ‘Poorinda Blondie
Not all grevilleas have proven as resilient as ‘Moonlight.’ To be fair, ‘Poorinda Blondie’ was newly planted in November 2020, and I left the garden on its own October 2021. By October 2024, ‘Poorinda Blondie’ had collapsed.
The sonchus are budding up, and there’s no question that a giant dandelion will be the life of the party when in bloom. It’s become a regular presence through the years, robustly reseeding despite most references suggesting Sonchus palmensis does not reseed — wtf? Geranium maderense also reseeds luxuriantly, thinned to five plants that should bloom maybe by March. (Being biennial, I think this year it should cycle into flower but no guaranties.) Seedling poppies and orlaya are entrenched in the garden too for early summer, a show I mostly miss but know by their ghostly skeletons I pull out in fall. And the tall pencil plant, Pedilanthus bracteatus, is another year-round source of nectar for hummingbirds. When I’m home, I see these guys every day and can’t help but feel responsible for them!
Pedilanthus bracteatus October 2023
So a garden that looks like all leaves, all the time, has a few tricks up its sleeve.
Erodium pelargoniflorum sttil reseeding after all these years
Other tough plants that survive without much attention are the false bromeliad, Callisia fragrans, interplanted here with an early prototype mangave that pups efffusively. Threading through the strappy leaves are self-sown Aristolochia fimbriata. All three would happily cover yards of the garden if allowed.
really spiky plants like this dyckia were potted and moved to safe locations to spare guests a nasty surprise, a strategy that has worked for the plant’s benefit too
Salvia ‘Pink Pong’ — I’m never immune to the intrigue of a new salvia. This one is a cross between involucrata and microphylla. Probably not a contender for surviving the months I’m away, but I’ll take some cuttings
Cussonia paniculata repotted (repiped?) to gain some afternoon shade under the grevillea. A lush canopy still eludes me, but it’s got a fine-looking trunk!
note the False Nasturtium, succulent leaves of Senecio tropaeofolius, potted and in the ground, another enthusiastic reseeder
Aloe ‘Tangerine’seedheads
to keep the record straight, this was labeled Aloe labworana, but ID uncertain
88F predicted for today then hopefully cooler later in the week. Take care, AGO
Bilbergia ‘Hallelujah’ — what goes around comes around
A couple years ago I gave a friend’s new garden some Bilbergia ‘Hallelujah,’ which were recently returned to me, fattened up but congested with conifer debris. Too messy to deal with, was the verdict. Too true. I let the bromeliads sit a few weeks, not having an appropriate site that wouldn’t cause more debris to rain down those speckled funnels. Yesterday, scuffling weeds out of the narrow strip of soil against the back fence, epiphany struck. A shady, no-debris site was staring me in the face. I put down the hoe and grabbed a spade.
Once thoroughly cleaned, it was quick work settling the broms in, which suited me fine since temps have been in the low 80s°F.
Special ordered from Flora Grubbs, Phyllica pubescens was the last thing I planted before backing up to admire the job, tripping over the bottom step of the porch…
I’ve been on very light duty as far as the garden since falling hard on my tailbone January 9, keeping to small jobs like wrangling bromeliads. Hallelujah, almost pain-free! (Coincidentally, if you follow The Pitt, a coccyx injury was a subplot last week.) Take care and watch where you put your feet! More soon, AGO.
In a completely unexpected twist, both my granddaughters have parents who work in museums. In terms of time spent, both kids are bonafide museum rats. In Oregon we volunteer at a small museum, and in Los Angeles we’re constantly exploring its impressive range of museum offerings (usually on free passes). I’m probably the rare school kid that was never taken on a field trip to a museum, so as an adult/museum volunteer I’m fascinated by how exhibits are put together, how to stage and build exhibits and present sometimes unwieldy cultural information. I can only surmise that as a volunteer I’m repurposing years of telling a garden story, considering the best placement, staring at light patterns, always struggling to make a garden more legible despite an inclination to include too much.
chandeliers and dinosaurs, where else but at the Natural History Museum, Los Angeles — kids see a lot of bones and taxidermy at any natural history museum
Since becoming volunteers, if we can fit it in, we now make it a point to visit every museum we come across, large or small. Quite a change from previous museum habits of mainly visiting the great ones in Europe, e.g. the Uffizi, Musee d’Orsay, V&A, etc. Museums with large endowments are a wonder of design and craft, staffed by professionals with credentials in museum studies, graphic design, art history and exhibit construction. Small-town museums obviously lack similar resources, but just as in visiting gardens, there’s lots to learn from museums of every budget and size. And kids take surprisingly well to adopting the “quiet” voice and manners necessary for everyone to enjoy these spaces.
taxidermy at the Natural History Museum, Los Angeles — kids fall easily under the spell of these hushed spaces
NHM Los Angeles
NHM Los Angeles
NHM Los Angeles
taxidermy room at Tillamook Pioneer Museum, Oregon. Often small-town museums give me a vibe of having been designed by Wes Anderson.
Tillamook Pioneer Museum — at the smaller museums, don’t be surprised to find you have the entire place to yourself
small-town museums are often housed in beautiful historilc buildings — we all admire this light fixture at the Tillamook Pioneer Museum
exhibit on clayworks industry and “beehive” kilns, Fairhope, Alabama, (population approx 23k) beautifully done with backdrop of photographic wallpaper — note details like the curved corner. Museum is housed in the former City Hall. Fairhope is one of two remaining “Single-Tax Colonies” in the U.S., a utopian-minded civic venture
Museum of History, Fairhope, Alabama, firehose nozzle display shows some “flat lay” skills (we were in Fairhope recently for my brother’s celebration of life)
Astoria’s Heritage Museum, formerly the City Hall, exhibit on the Coast Salish indigenous people of the PNW. And, yes, there is a Goonies exhibit here too
Los Angeles Maritime Museum in the old ferry building — years ago we ate at this restaurant right before it closed! If you live in a small town, your local history museum most likely could use your help.
“Corita Kent: The Sorcery of Images,” Marciano Art Foundation, Los Angeles, aka the “Pop Art Nun,” show includes this revolving triptych of over 1,000 photos as well as her work with serigraphs. Startling to find Sister Corita’s nun’s habit was exactly the same as the nuns who taught me, including my art teacher Sister Mary Paul — museums shake loose all kinds of dusty memories
Marciano Art Foundation — had to get a photo of the tree aloe
at LACMA Chris Burden’s Metropolis II takes up a whole room — last time we were there the cars and trains of this “kinetic sculpture” ran on Thursdays, so you might want to call ahead to double-check. Your kids will thank you!
the sublime Ruth Asawa at LACMA
“How to be a Guerrilla Girl,” Getty Research Institute, showcasing 40 years of the anonymous feminist art collective and new work for the exhibit, ends April 12, 2026, really fun show
Many of the original GG’s had backgrounds in advertising
Some founding members were confused by “guerrilla” and thought it referenced the great ape, so the collective leaned into the joke — how an iconography is born!
Since its founding, members’ identities have remained secret, and the GG’s are never seen without their gorilla masks in public, as shown in this blurry photo from the GRI show’s opening November 2025.
We recently visited the Monuments show at the MOCA Geffen, which is overwhelming for a lot of reasons, not least the physical scale. The logistics and funds necessary to transport these massive statues across the country could only be handled by a museum with an endowment like Los Angeles’ MOCA Geffen.
at MOCA Geffen thru spring
“The exhibition reflects on the histories and legacies of post-Civil War America as they continue to resonate today, bringing together a selection of decommissioned monuments, many of which are Confederate, with contemporary artworks borrowed and newly created for the occasion. Removed from their original outdoor public context, the monuments in the exhibition will be shown in their varying states of transformation, from unmarred to heavily vandalized.”
Marty grew up in the South and has always told me that American History was taught to him through the filter of the “Lost Cause,” which I found incredible, almost hard to believe. Visiting the Monuments show with him, watching his complete and quiet absorption in the exhibit, I knew his childhood memories of seeing them in parks as a young boy added another chilling layer to the experience.
“Orion’s Cabinet,” Abigail DeVille, MOCA
“Orion’s Cabinet” by Abigail Deville: “The work draws on photographs of Richmond, Virginia, the capital of the Confederacy, set ablaze by retreating Confederate forces at the end of the Civil War. Here, the cabinets become both a ruined political landscape and fragile vessels of domestic memory.”
“A museum is a place where one should lose one’s head,” says Renzo Piano, architect of the Resnick Pavilion at LACMA. And large or small, I always do.
garden ephemera like an aloe flower never ceases to charm
A pot of posole bubbles on the stove as the garden soaks up last night’s downpour. I’ve moved on from coffee to green tea to quiet a scratchy throat. The spicy posole will be therapeutic as well. Then maybe a bath and a nap after a late night. And there’s lots of end-of-year reading on the political events of 2025 to peruse on a quiet New Year’s Day. New Year’s Eve was a raucous one, with booming firework explosions harassing the neighborhood dogs including our Billie.
Umbels of flowers from Cotyledon orbiculata join kalanchoe in a surprisingly coordinated winter floral display — expected from perennials, not succulents!
I love that the trevesia is shooting up new growth from the base and filliing in some mid-ground air space. The original trunk is approx 15 feet now
Aloe’Swordfish’ and Sedum adolphii
For gallons of inexpensive, ground-covering succulents, in Los Angeles you can’t do better than Ricardo’s Nursery for prices and selection, on Atlantic Boulevard where Long Beach borders Compton. (When did we last pay $8 for a gallon?) I’ve been infilling with these GCs around the agaves and aloes. It’s one of those nurseries that requires an adventurous attitude because not much is labeled. The shambolic approach appeals to me, and if. you’re interested in obscure tropical fruit trees these guys are really on their game.
We lost family members in 2025 from sudden, unexpected illnesses. Twenty years old is indisputably, tragically too young, and yet my brother’s passing at 69 was a shock as well. My brother was a big Saul Bellow fan, so this year I’m going to read (reread?) one of his favorites The Adventures of Augie March. I wonder how many friends and family members know this source of his dog’s name Augie. I think I’m most struck by how losing a sibling also means the abrupt disappearance of that shared ecosystem of references, jokes and stories, whether personal, political, musical, literary, that is unique to every familial bond, as richly complex and ephemeral as a flower. Take care, find comfort where you can, more soon! AGO
