we’re talking about fresh paint, still mostly talk. Marty doesn’t see the need.
We’ll be heading south sooner than I’d like to take care of some much-needed upkeep on the 1919 bungalow. October has brought serial days of 100-degree heat to Southern California, so it’s definitely time to install a heat pump. It’ll be the first AC in the house’s history, a grim milestone. That and the new roof is the best we can do to confront the supercharged El Nino predicted to bear down this winter (this weekend!) and through next year.
telescoped in this view are multiple parallel webs only a few inches from each other. Spiders rule the October garden
Looks like I’m leaving the Oregon garden in good hands. (all eight of them).
mornings are foggy and misty which usually burns off before noon. No sustained rain yet. Our first October in 2021 brought rain all month. The hunter next-door was extremely bummed
Only the birds see the contrast between the fenced-in lawns surrounding us and this planted madness. Bindweed still creeps under the fence looking for a toehold, and the garden shed becomes engulfed in neighboring Himalayan blackberry by summer, at which point Marty asks for access to cut it back.
By fall the strong shapes and outlines that began to build in spring lose focus and blur into each other, even with all the evergreens. I’m constantly watching the evergreen/deciduous balance, which easily tips over in favor of evergreens if I’m not careful. But that herbaceous seasonal surge and transformative arc has me hooked.
there’s a few young evergreens in here that will change the balance next year: a self-sown Euphorbia stygiana, a small Cassinia leptophylla, even an evergreen Viburnum atrocyaneum var. harryanum. Manzanita, Brachyglottis greyi and calluna pool at the base of the pedestal
Helicotrichon sempervirens with newly planted Erodium manescevii in front. An order to Dancing Oaks was planted a couple days ago.
I had front-loaded the edge of the patio with evergreens, and many have been removed to leave some breathing room as the rest of the garden matures. The patio was effectively getting ringed in, blocking a view of the garden, not a bad effect in a large garden but claustrophobic in a small one like this. Hebe ‘New Zealand Gold,’ Cassinia x ozothamnus, and Phlomis monocephala were removed in spring for lower-growing plants. That and removing the third stock tank has opened things up. Even with a lot of the recent removals and thinning, the paths are more implied that usable! At least they’re still useful for maintenance access.
On October mornings I always bring a tool to knock down all the spider webs crossing the paths. I hate it when the spiders catch an occasional bee — I’ve rescued a couple, which I admit is silly
so many great time-lapse performances in a garden, hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, from the creatures, from the plants through the seasons
tall spires of Lobelia tupa still opening flowers at the tips
Aster horizontalis ‘Lady in Black’ finishes in October what she started in spring, the structure and leaves strong all summer
The variegated euphorbia (‘Silver Swan’?) was planted on arrival in 2021. Incredible shrub-like longevity for what I thought was a short-term plant.
fatshedera flower buds?
Acacia pravissima full of flower buds — not sure if or when they will open
my little multi-trunk Sinopanax formosanus did well over summer, another evergreen initially planted at the patio’s perimeter
sesleria gets moved around the garden a lot because it thickens up so fast. Holding this corner is one of its best looks. Being evergreen it needs a lot of grooming in spring. Deciduous cutback grasses are easier maintenance, but for now I feel the sesleria is worth the work. Bamboo canes support tithonia, which fell over in high winds but obligingly righted itself with help — fence high, started blooming in October. On the other side of that fence are the neighbors’ two large dogs that really want to get a piece of Billie
the east side is a mix of some permanent planting but also a cutting garden
the few potted plants have been pulled under the covered porch. Scented geraniums, mangave, Aloe boylei. Just behind the patio Phygelius ‘Strawberry Blond’ has been there for the hummingbirds since June
WordPress offers a subscription AI function now, which is tempting in terms of formatting, security and updating, chores I always fall behind on/have little interest in. I’ve looked around for some tech help in the past, but the blog is considered a small potatoes job. The current iteration with all the archives listed on the right is not one I’ve chosen, and stuff I have chosen has become nonfunctional. I’d love to command AI to keep up on all the housekeeping, but it sounds too good to be true. Maybe something to explore over the winter.
Theo in ball cap with a visitor framed by a rose and fuchsia-covered arch
Theo Margelony moved with his fuchsias from Manhattan to Portland in 2019. Knowledgeable, warm and very friendly, I have bumped into Theo and his partner Kevin Gepford a couple times on garden tours. Knowing there’d be a warm welcome at their open garden in early September, it was that more than an interest in fuchsias that prompted me to attend.
Fuchsia ‘White Knights Amethyst’ — not an easy one to source but I love the elegant branching habit and slim dark flowers
I’ve grown a few hardy fuchsias in my time but otherwise haven’t explored the genus much. But I am completely open to plants with a long season and something to offer hummingbirds. Hummingbirds currently are lured by phygelius and Lobelia tupa in my Oregon garden late September, but some backup would be nice. In the Los Angeles garden grevilleas and aloes handle the job year-round, and it’s in that garden that I became a fan of the equivalent of having your own private troupe of tiny circus acrobats perform multiple times a day. In a small garden, I think it’s fair that where my plant interests and aesthetics converge with supporting wildlife, we can collaborate, whether the needs are shelter, pollen, nectar, seedheads. And surprisingly our interests as far as plant choices converge quite a bit.
As cutback shrubs, and/or spared a hard winter, hardy fuchsias can make great size in summer, with nectar available at least July to frost. And with warmer winters, possibly even longer. Theo’s garden had more examples than seemed possible for a Portland city garden.
The shrubbiness made for a sheltered, relaxed and easy-going garden. You gotta appreciate the specialists for congregating the best of their favorite genus in one garden.
With over 200 hardy magellanica cultivars in Theo’s garden, September never looked so fresh, and with plenty of steam left to roll til frost. For a fuchsia devotee, the PNW is the place to be.
hardy ‘DebRon’s Draco’ — if a label was missing Theo knew what it was
The Fuchsietum makes the case that fuchsias can share space with and complement all kinds of plants. Palms, perennials, abutilons, crepe myrtles, daphnes. And even though fuchsias are an obvious favorite, the garden wastes no time waiting for their summer arrival. Theo says it’s bustling with incidents and successive schemes starting with the early bulbs of spring, whose leaves are now buried under the skirts of fuchsias.
Disporum cantoniense ‘Moonlight’
didn’t catch the tag on this daphne
fall-blooming cyclamen and fatsia
pulmonaria still flawless in September
fuchsia with fall-blooming asters
fuchsias and a dwarf conifer
fuchsia with the toad lily tricyrtis
Theo says there are three pomegranates in the garden
The enthusiasm for plants surrounds the house on all sides.
the new greenhouse for overwintering tender fuchsias and propagating
back of the house
patio on side opposite the greenhouse
frontyard through the breezeway
and back to the front porch
looking across the front garden to the driveway
and back down the front steps, leaving the Fuchsietum for a world that. now seems just a bit toned down
I’m guessing full sun here at the coast, zone 8-9. Some hardy fuchsias are supposedly root-hardy to zone 7 and possibly even zone 6 (‘Riccartonii.’) I should be able to fit in at least one of these exceptionally long-blooming shrubs for my hummingbird friends. Thank you, Theo, for the recommendations! More soon, AGO
David Brenner of Habitat Horticulture’s 30×150′ green wall installed at SF MOMA 2016
San Francisco’s Museum of Modern Art’s exhibit “Matisse’s Femme au chapeau: A Modern Scandal” is closing September 27, 2026. I visited in July and was thrilled to be immersed in a world where an artistic revolution mattered to artists and nonartists alike. Modern art champions Gertrude and Leo Stein’s early 20th century sitting room was recreated, and the galleries were filled with art work influenced by Matisse’s “ugliest painting.” The exhibit chronicles an incredibly exciting pre-WWI cultural moment. It was a bracing, restorative visit even before I found the green wall.
included in the Matisse exhibit — View of Agay, Albert Marquet 1905
Wandering around the galleries we discovered an enormous green wall on one of the terraces. Lush, robustly healthy, and filled with plants I wouldn’t think to associate with green walls. There was repetition of Salvia chiapensis, for example, abutilons. And mahonia!
“recycled plastic geotextile, soil, and water”
Mahonia eurybracteata, if I’m not mistaken
Salvia chiapensis
I’ve seen a lot of succulent green walls. Ferns and other shade plants look naturally at home. Phlebodium aureum
I’ve seen similar fern walls on hikes along the Nehalem River
yes, that’s a fatsia leaf lower left
suitably shaggy backdrop for Calder’s sleek stabiles
looking out at the terrace from inside the museum
the epic scale of the green wall gives it a commanding presence that holds its own amongst the artwork. Supposedly the country’s largest green wall at the time of installation in 2016
Matisse would’ve loved this
As I say the exhibit closes September 27, 2026, but Brenner’s green wall is a permanent installation. If you can go, it makes for a fine afternoon.
Rumex sanguineous, the bloody dock, which I love saying and writing, has been flawless all summer. Which is gratifying because, as an edible, I assumed my battalions of snails and slugs would have made lacework of it. Apparently not to their taste. Full sun, happy in this heavy soil that’s on the dry side in summer.
If you allow the tall, brushy brown flowers to form, you will have lots of bloody dock. This year I cut the flowers off before they could form seed.
January 2022. In the beginning there were three stock tanks, now there are two. Corner stock tank on the left with young Rhodocoma capensis in the gravel was removed recently. Billie had a lot of room back then!
Leaving bloody dock and on to some recent changes. Last Saturday morning I was pruning the Rhodocoma capensis at the Wonder Garden, something I do frequently with mine. Limbing it up into an arching, vase-like shape to give surrounding plants some breathing room. Maybe it was the size of the towering restio at the Wonder Garden that influenced what I did to mine Saturday afternoon when I got home.
July 2024 with Solanum laxum and Iris ‘Gerald Darby’ Rhodocoma capensis upright stems just visible behind the stock tank. And this is when tetrapanax still grew in this corner! Round scalloped leaves of Darmera peltata lower right before it started to weaken from lack of light and water.
I can become unreasonably attached to certain plants, I admit, but on Saturday something snapped and cold practicality won. It was obvious that this heavily trafficked corner closest to the back stairs needed some serious breathing room. (Marty had been saying this for months.)
Solanum laxum May 2026. When first planted I wasn’t sure it would be hardy. Great evergreen vine but rampageous. Nonstop flowers, no scent, no regrets.
The potato vine Solanum laxum was requiring such frequent cutting back to keep the walkways passable that I was leaving loppers permanently propped against the stairs. And a ladder was now needed to keep it off the roof. ( I hate it when ladders become part of routine care.)
After the purge. The molinia is a few years old. Some of the new Salvia sclarea were planted here once the tank was removed.
And once I started to look at this corner critically instead of emotionally, I realized the 6-foot stock tank wasn’t growing anything particularly irreplaceable and should be removed as well. Which left the restio. Without the tank holding it back, I knew I’d have to keep the loppers handy to clear the walkways of the arching restio in perpetuity.
Marty carefully removed the restio without damaging surrounding plants.
Once the decision was made the work was quick. Marty happily tackled the vine and dug up the restio while I hid in the house. Change is hard. But I love the result (even if the neighbor’s entire two-story house is now visible from the stairs instead of just half of it). We emptied the stock tank of soil and gave the tank and soil to a new home. The original idea for the tank was to grow the native moisture-loving Darmera peltata. Without adding water daily, the tank was impossible to keep moist enough for the darmera, which has been moved to the east under a downspout.
With the vine, stock tank and Rhodocoma capensis removed, a formerly crowded phormium and Eryngium pandanifolium are stretching out and enjoying the autumn sun. Pots have been moved to take advantage of the all-day sun here too.
In preparation for winter rain, Agave ‘Vanzie’ was dug up and potted so it can be moved under the overhang .
The plants get up to really interesting associations throughout the season. And even though they lean into and on each other, it’s amazing what intricate support systems they devise. Even after an afternoon of heavy wind, the garden moves together like a single organism.
Aster ‘Coombe Fishacre’ and Symphytum ‘Axminster Gold’ were buried under Sanguisorba ‘Red Thunder’ which I cut back to get a jump on spring jobs — I get antsy in fall.
autumn light is an event in its own right
Acacia pravissima contending with Helianthus ‘Lemon Queen’
Lobelia tupa leaning in to demonstrate how fine it looks with Chionochloa rubra. Silver lacy leaves are Geranium robustum. I really like this rambling geranium in or out of bloom. Cutback midsummer for new leaves. Original plant from Secret Garden Growers, hardy I think to zone 8. It’s overwintered here.
Getting handsy with Chionochloa rubra. This geranium seems to be resseeding into the gravel
Is Euphorbia characias always this blue or is the rusty pheasant grass making it appear bluer?
I visited the local dahlia growing fields again last weekend, now in full bloom. Out of all the vibrant saturated colors Dahlia ‘Renoir’ still managed to make an impression
street view of a variegated azara in a garden visited last weekend, more on that soon
Lastly, a video (sorry about any ads!) with Rosy Hardy visiting Derry Watkins at her home and nursery Special Plants. Wonderful to hear Derry proclaim it’s okay if plants don’t live forever! It’s okay to make changes! Truer words…
greenhouse, silo, new potting shed. Parking was just behind the garden shed
interior of new potting shed, through which visitors enter the garden
A couple of the gardens I’ve visited through the HPSO Open Gardens program this summer involved the owners’ experimenting with a naturalistic planting style as they gained more space to garden. Sometimes called the New Naturalism or the New Perennial Movement, sometimes simply “Oudolfian” after the Dutch designer most often associated with this movement in garden design. Generally, and very superficially, it’s a reliance on building hardy herbaceous plant communities. Developed in complex, successive layers, the garden surges through the growing seasons, beginning with bulbs and ending with the skeletal remains of grasses and blooms standing over winter. The style originated in cool, northern latitudes and has influenced gardens and been adapted, with varying success, all over the world. To fully engage the landscape, paths provide the tracks for an immersive and some say pastorally emotional experience.
grasses are essential to naturalistic planting
Dairy Creek Meadows is the dramatic result of the new owners exploring naturalistic-style planting on 30 acres of former dairy land. Craig Quirk and Larry Neill’s previous Portland town garden Floramagoria was an extravagant construct, with both horticulture and hardscape at full throttle. Working with designer Laura Crockett, the garden vibrated with a condensed intensity made up of assertively architectural planting, seating pavilions, intricate container displays, hot-colored furnishings, painted walls, inlaid mosaic rugs. It was a sensual surround of strong color and form that left me reeling — I took very few photos during my visit in 2014. House and garden changed hands in 2023, and Quirk and Neill retired to 30 acres to create Dairy Creek Meadows. (I was told the friends who took over Floramagoria have kept it relatively intact.) Laura Crockett has been involved with Dairy Creek Meadows as well.
from town to country
Features like a mosaic welcome mat adorn both old and new gardens.
And a lot of the design flourishes that made Floramagoria such a unique experience have also been incorporated into Dairy Creek Meadows. The intensity and intimacy of the small jewel-box garden that was Floramagoria has been traded for big gestures, panoramic views and sweeps of planting, all anchored by that fabulous greenhouse and farm buildings, old and new.
the Hartley Botanic greenhouse and crevice gardens
If I understood correctly, the first order of business was installing the Hartley Botanic greenhouse. Along with the farm buildings and silos, it is the main structural point of reference for the new garden and takes command of the surrounding meadows beautifully.
on the greenhouse bench
Crevice gardens by Kenton Seth and Chris Dixon
white flowers in the distance are Perscaria polymorpha, a big plant so good I even added it to my small garden
Androsace lanuginosa
distant turquoise ceramic totems by Dustin Gimbel, with pieces by him also in the greenhouse
kitchen and cutting garden
Along with the crevice garden, there’s a vegetable and cutting garden, pond, and large containers for bog plants — a carryover feature from Floramagoria. Gardens surround the owners’ private home as well. Guessing from my lack of photos, the private home may have been off limits this tour.
I asked about the interesting salvage grates and bits added to the paths and was told that Laura Crockett sources them
The same strikingly bold taste and confident touch that made Floramagoria special is here at Dairy Creek Meadows, with the experimental planting scaled to suit the vast spaces. Visit if you get the chance. More soon, AGO
Visiting Cistus Nursery over the summer, I was struck how walking its paths was so reminiscent of visiting Western Hills, a Northern California garden and nursery founded by Lester Hawkins and Marshall Olbrich in 1959, and which I visited regularly in the ’80s and ’90s. After the inevitable ownership changes began in the 2000s, Western Hills fortunately weathered the evolution from a beloved private garden and nursery to now a non-profit educational institution of inestimable horticultural value.
weeping katsura Cercidiphyllum japonicum
And that strong connection I feel between Cistus and Western Hills is not all in my nostalgic imagination. Sean Hogan knew the original Western Hills through his work in Bay Area botanical gardens in the ’80s and ’90s and is currently on Western Hills’ Horticultural Advisory Committee. If you can go, I wouldn’t miss the chance to hear him speak at this garden he knows so well.
a new gathering space
There are still some great gardens with nursery operations, and the PNW has a fair share of them, including Cistus. If you have such a destination available to visit, you know what a treasure these places are. Walking the garden, dashing to the plant tables to check availability, chatting with staff about horticultural minutiae and new plant acquisitions. There is no other garden retail experience that can match it.
Western Hills July 2026
Perhaps more important than the benefits to personal gardens, these horticultural hubs educate and inspire future gardeners and nursery people. Visiting Western Hills last July it was clear the current owners and board members are making the most of the legacy opportunities the garden offers for building a thriving horticultural community. You can sign up for their monthly newsletter here and apply to their horticulture intern position here.
archival correspondence of the original owners
Western Hills currently offers a few plants for sale, but nothing like the offerings in the heyday of Hawkins and Olbrich. And I’m not clear if that will eventually be part of the vision of the nonprofit foundation. If you go to the talk, ask Sean!
I attended a couple HPSO Open Garden tours last weekend, one close to home in Manzanita on Sunday, and the other on Saturday about 60 miles east.
some of the wonderful containers in the Kuestner garden in Manzanita on Sunday August 30
From the first garden visit on Saturday I took home only plants, no photos. The exact inverse result of most garden tours! The owner has been recovering from medical mobility issues that unfortunately began in spring. For decades the garden had absorbed the owner’s horticultural passions, first for penstemons and now with salvias. We both go way back with salvias, so there was lots to discuss.
And then I stumbled on the table in back staged with 4-inch nursery pots. Of course I had to inquire about this small nursery operation. Not for sale, take them, please, he said. I thought he was joking. No joke, he said, you have no idea how hard it is to give away plants. (I’m still trying to process this remarkable assertion that runs completely contrary to my simple world view.) And yet he couldn’t stop propagating. There were some nice salvias, including some Canary Islanders like broussonetii that I was pretty sure would become large, non-blooming shrubs for me in Oregon and then die over winter. I wouldn’t bring it home to the Los Angeles zone 10 garden either, where regular irrigation is uncertain.
But I could definitely use hardy biennial Salvia sclarea, which I had been trying to grow from seed. Now I had two more to add to the one that successfully germinated. Take more, take more, he pleaded. I grabbed a Salvia ‘La Trinidad Pink’ just because its reputation precedes it, and also because I’ve never grown this microphylla found by the Yucca Do nursery near Nueva Leon in Mexico some years ago. I hope next year will be easier for this generous household and keeper of so many salvias.
Senecio cristobalensis, one of many in the Kuestner garden, including one that has wintered over in the ground in this coastal Zone 9-10ish garden
The garden I visited on Sunday I had seen just a few weeks before, but I really wanted to check out the progress of Mark’s tithonia, which was way ahead of mine. I took a few photos of this garden but not as many as I would if Mark wasn’t also a friend. And Billie was with me roaming the paths too, as if that’s not enough distraction. But you could point a camera anywhere in the Kuestner garden and come out a winner. It’s a mostly shade garden filled with rare evergreen trees like eucryphias that Mark dotes on, with pockets of sun carved out for summer stuff.
the tithonia in question, unlike mine, was heavily watered and fertilized. Manzanita gardens are built on sand. Mark continuously adds lots of compost to beef up the free-draining conditions. This tithonia is just getting going and should blaze on until frost.
happy aeoniums in summer on the coast — I really need to bring up some of mine from the Los Angeles garden. Mark does have a small greenhouse to shelter these in winter
Dahlia ‘Forncett’s Furnace’
Seems like everybody I know is growing Windcliff begonias this summer — sorry, didn’t get the name
on an arch the very elegant Berberidopsis corallina, an evergreen climber from Chile
lower down a passiflora also shares the same arch
Grevillea victoriae, part of a boundary planting, photo taken from neighbor’s driveway
also taken from the neighbor’s driveway — so many abutilons in the Kuestner semi-shaded garden. Overhanging shrub on the left is a very large flannel bush
standing out among the crowd, dark-leaved Dahlia ‘Bishop of Llandaff
I checked out the local dahlia grower’s fields yesterday, but it’s still very early for much of a show. In local gardens around town, dahlias left in the ground have been up and blooming for a couple months. The grower doesn’t risk leaving the tubers in the ground over winter, so late August/September is when his fields start showing more than a smattering of blooms. But some varieties were well advanced in growth and bloom over others.
The qualities I look for in a dahlia are rarely mentioned in catalogues. Size, color and shape of flower are included in print descriptions but not the overall habit of growth. Walking the fields really clarifies what makes a good garden dahlia from one grown for a vase.
long dark stems of ‘Phyllis Farmer’ made a strong impression as useful as a cut flower and in the garden. Graceful, lightweight habit of growth, without massive leaves or thick awkward stems. A waterlily type
My feet and sandals were covered in raw sienna-colored dirt by the time I walked the extent of the fields without another soul in sight. Just me and the dahlias.
‘Pam Howden’ was another standout in the field for number of blooms, long stems, also a waterlily type
‘Pam Howden’
I grew ‘Verrone’s Obsidian’ a couple years ago with mediocre results and spindly flowers. Here’s how it looks grown well
very floriferous single, elegant in habit ‘Sunny Side Up.’
This morning the downpipes were gurgling from a heavy mist almost veering into a light rain. Probably nothing measurable though. A morning like this is why the boardwalk is much appreciated.
Rather than keep cosmos in pots like last summer, the seedlings were moved here. ‘Rubenza’ and ‘Apricotta’. No surprise, they make bigger, better plants in the ground
Kniphofia northiae backed by Hedychium ‘Tara’. Tall grey shrub is corynabutilon with tiny mauve flowers in early summer
Parahebe perfoliata with fresh growth and flowers after mid-summer cutback. Grass is Calamagrostis brachytricha
Here’s the view of the Oregon Coast back garden through the sliding doors, a view I look at a lot. Like both my gardens, it’s small and densely planted. It’s still exciting to throw back the curtains every morning and head outside, just as it was opening the kitchen door onto the LA/Long Beach, CA garden all those years. Everything in Oregon has to survive the winter while I’m gone, without protection, just as the zone 10 garden has to survive the summer while I’m here, with minimal supplemental irrigation. (Marty is in Long Beach right now and watering liberally; the garden is definitely showing the stress. I think the neighbors who promised to water occasionally went camping.)
looking east down the length of the small patio. I can’t wait to see what a young Euphorbia ceratocarpa and Grevillea ‘The Precious’ planted along that fence look like next year.
taken about a week ago, before I moved the potted single orange dahlia closer to the hose. Keeping the container watered in August became a daily job. The dahlia definitely needs to be removed from its galvanized tub and split up next spring. When I split Sanguisorba ‘Red Thunder’ then too I may try some of this dahlia in the back border.
I think this is pretty much peak summer 2026, with nothing else waiting in the wings to make an appearance. All the early performers are submerged under the growth of mid to late summer.
Dahlia ‘Windcliff Peach’ and a very dozy bee
the dahlia tank was sitting in front of Persicaria ‘Blackfield.’ Both the sesleria and persicaria are forgiving plants that accommodate squeezing in any summer containers. I’ve plunged in pots of cosmos here too. Yellow sprays of Verbascum roripifolium have continued all summer. It tends to grow horizontal, so cutting back the top growth makes more side shoots that create the cloud effect.
I’m always mentally toggling back and forth between the two gardens, so some quick context might be helpful. This is my sixth summer here playing in a new garden on the Oregon Coast zone 8-9, after 30-some years in LA’s zone 10 frostless garden. But old habits die hard — I still mostly plant for a dry summer. It’s the cool summers on the coast that make all the difference as far as quality and length of bloom. Even easy stuff like cosmos was a struggle in zone 10 summers.
leaving the back porch and into the garden looking east. Tithonia towers over the lobelia now but still no blooms — maybe September. The cool climate has its strengths as well as drawbacks
On the coast I stick to small simple flowers that make a wash of color and avoid more resource-intensive things like roses, peonies, clematis and others whose growth habits and down time I find difficult to handle in a small garden. If there’s one constant between the two gardens, I’ve always been a “community organizer” type of gardener, preferring the overall effect to showcasing a certain plant, even making agaves and aloes share the spotlight with grasses and shrubs down south.
at the foot of the lobelia some oregano is coming into bloom with nearby rock gardenish tanks and Mangave ‘Whale Tale’
This little erodium has been in bloom since June, ‘Fran’s Delight’ from Xera Plantsin June before the reds of persicaria, sanguisorba and Lobelia tupa dominated
today, with a single eucomis bloom backed by persicaria
Calamint in bloom, the sterile ‘Montrose White.’ Another plant that grows well in both north and south gardens, extremely dry tolerant. Releases wonderful minty scent when brushed which makes it great for narrow pathszone 10 garden September 2016. Both Salvia uliginosa and calamint are included in the Oregon coast garden this year as well Mid-June with penstemons and geum, showing an example of the successions rolling through the garden.
mid August with persicaria and Scabiosa ochroleuca dominant. Funnily enough, both of these plants are the rare perennials that performed in summer in the zone 10 garden too. The scabiosa is famously dry tolerant (and a vigorous reseeder). The persicaria is usually recommended for moist conditions but if your soil is heavy, like mine in LA and Oregon, it handles dryish conditions well and doesn’t seem to require a winter rest to bloom.persicaria in the zone 10 garden August 2013. In winter in zone 10 I always begrudge the space given to summer-performing plants and usually reclaim it for another aloe or agave. Now that I’m in Oregon for summer, the Long Beach garden no longer has to entertain me both winter and summer
in the narrow beds on the east side, the “community organizing” style and succession planting that I find a lot of fun is less effective, a good place for standouts like Rubus lineatus
Joe-pye weed was removed from the back garden and added to the narrow borders on the east side
so cool — low tide at Cape Meares yesterday morning
It’s Friday. We’ve been up to our eyeballs in weird all week. How about a walk through the San Francisco Botanical Garden?
At the southern entrance was a searing melange of annuals that was repeated beyond the gates throughout the entrance plaza. Beautifully grown as far as gradation of heights, etc. The bodacious planting had me imagining the staff brain-storming this splashy summer display to knock the socks off visitors, and then the methodical work of ordering seeds and planting out hundreds of annuals. The saturated color impulse was so aggressively retro it felt brand-new. A horticultural middle finger to San Francisco’s typically overcast summer skies.
Jack Kerouac-style hat in a nice touch at the entrance
A standout among the petunias and ageratum was a tall, silver-leaved orange daisy, maybe an arctotis of some kind. Wasn’t there once an annual called Venidium ‘Zulu Prince’ or has it now changed names?
needs sun to fully open
After looking around at seed catalogues, I’m fairly certain this is Venidium ‘Orange Prince.’ Looks like a scorcher, right? From my reading, it actually prefers a cool summer like San Francisco (or my Oregon coast garden, maybe next year).
inside the plaza with tibouchina topping the fence
And that marigold was a nice choice too, a simple tall-stemmed single, color of burning embers, maybe ‘Cinnabar.’ The kind that Christopher Lloyd made acceptable again, along with tall-stemmed ageratum. No dwarf varieties, no Victorian bedding-style blobs allowed.
And don’t panic, the entrance plaza is filled with all the cool plants that thrive here year-round, like cussonia, beschorneria and agave.
The first day we arrived was a hot muggy mess. What had become of my San Francisco, with its unsurpassed weather for long cool city rambles? The next day the city mercifully returned to its baseline overcast conditions.
old gnarly banksia arching over a path
Now we’re wandering into the garden, through the Mediterranean, South African and Australian sections.
tree with the rounded leaves reminds me of the Robinson Crusoe tree Dendroseris litoralis that used to be available through Annie’s Annuals
The cactus and succulent garden is not large but the gravitas leant by its age and maturity make up for size.
like a lot of its tribe, Euphorbia lambiii is a robust reseeder
Agave chiapensis in bloom
the Pewster Bush was dotted around quite a bit, Strobilanthes gossypinus
fuchsias leave their heart in SF year-round
Brugmansia sanguinea. Because of this visit, I was primed to admire this in a friend’s garden over the weekend, and of course he had a rooted cutting to share…
Incarvillea arguta
A couple standouts not frequently seen were the hardy gloxinia Incarvillea arguta and francoa. The latter I grow in the front garden and mine was in bloom in July as well. From Chile. Great stiff evergreen crinkly leaves, loves a cool summer. Makes an incredible container plant too.
massive bloom display on francoa
whether white, pink or purple flowers, I believe all are Francoa appendiculata var. ramosa
