‘Limpopo’ spreads fast and benefits from division every 3-5 years
Crocosmias bring a freshness to August, particularly in the early bud stages when the whole plant embodies something plump and juicy. Looking at them gives me a craving for nectarines. But we’ve all seen them at their worst, in overgrown, disheveled clumps, so there’s no arguing if you’ve decided to steer clear of them. I will say that growing them hard against a boundary where they can’t overspread and not mid-border has worked well for me. And some varieties like ‘Solfatare’ are much less vigorous than, say, ‘Lucifer.’
I first visited Mary and Harlan Courtney’s garden in late July 2022 and wrote about it here. It is a strikingly unique, materials-driven, artfully idiosyncratic approach to managing a slope, where the retaining infrastructure designed by Harlan is as prominent a feature as the plants.
new guest house addition on the left has been completed since my last visit, fresh paint to match on the main house
I’d heard that the garden was to be included in a book, and The Spirited Garden was released this spring. After this June visit I ordered the book, which I highly recommend for the generous amount of photos and knowledgeable writing on 17 PNW gardens. Along with the Courtneys’ garden, PNW touchstones like Cistus are included. (If you’ve attended a PNW “Fling” garden tour, the book covers in-depth some of these featured gardens e.g. the Kuzma garden, but also includes rare treats such as a tour of Ann Amato’s home and garden sanctuary.)
This garden unabashedly wears its hardscape on its sleeve. Along with Harlan’s free-standing sculptures, there are painted culvert pipes, varying heights of undulating Corten retaining walls, experimental types of gabion. The engineered design solutions contain and counterpoint Mary’s adventurous planting, and any visit is an overwhelming eyeful.
The Sulphur Cypress, Cupressus glabra ‘Sulphurea’
Mary’s planting is wide-ranging and robust enough to balance the visually arresting hardscape. This June visit differed from the last one in July in that the cutting garden filled with cosmos and dahlias as well as mid-summer perennials were still gaining strength. This visit I was struck by all the stunning conifers that Mary had been planting that are large enough now to make a statement. You never know who’s going to be a conifer fan! A winter tour of the garden to see the conifers would present an entirely different mood, magical in its own way — especially if the surrounding meadow is dotted with the local herd of grazing elk.
sulphur cypress with Chamaecyparis lawsoniana ‘Blue Surprise’ Port Orford Cedar on the left
Pinus contorta ‘Taylor’s Sunburst’
Cupressus arizonica ‘Limelight’
Abies concolor ‘Wintergold’ White Fir for its incredible color in winter
I’ve never seen the New Zealand Bur better grown — a solid mat of Acaena inermis ‘Purpurea’
future site of the geothermal-heated greenhouse — keep an eye out for the next tour date!
Closing with a photo of the workshop. Thanks again to the Courtneys for opening their stunningly imaginative garden. More soon, AGO
By the end of July the garden is definitely over the top. A surging, buzzing, no-holds-barred spectacle I’ve been looking forward to since spring.
By mid-summer the only place to rest your eye is the sky. (And fences and houses…) My motto is the eye can rest when it sleeps.
Alstroemeria ‘Third Harmonic’ rampaged through the zone 10 garden, but surprisingly behaves much more meek and understated on the Oregon coast
Even Alstroemeria ‘Third Harmonic’ can barely keep up. The Silver Spike grass, Achnatherum calamagrostis, seems to keep it in bounds. The grasses are the glory of this very windy coastal garden.
I do have to brag about the clean lines of my Eryngium pandanifolium. I pulled off so many splaying, crosswise, thorny leaves in spring that I wasn’t sure it would be strong enough to bloom. And here it is with three shoots forming. If you want to grow this big eryngo in a small garden, cleaning up the leaves in spring is the only way. And no lie, it’s a nasty job requiring long sleeves and gloves. Otherwise it will be a sprawlingly annoying and scratchy mess that you will grow to hate as passionately as you once admired it.
Marty has been staring at our overstuffed garden for so long, after visiting another recently he asked, Where are all the plants? And why are the paths so wide? Ha, I’ve made a convert!
persicaria has become the bees favorite, bumping the butterfly verbascum from the top of their list
While I was away for a week the persicarias swung into action. Obviously preferred by the bees to all else, the persicarias have added incredible vibrancy to the scene. Just standing next to all the noisy thrumming action gets me buzzing with energy too.
Dahlia is ‘Windcliff Peach’ with the yellow scrim provided by the butterfly verbascum, V. roripifolium. With Persicaria ‘Summer Dance,’ veronicastrum, allium, Crocosmia ‘Limpopo’
Lobelia tupa is a hummingbird battleground by July. Leafy tower on the left is tithonia, which depending on ultimate size may be too much for this little corner to bear.
I like how Lobelia tupa gets leavened a bit by the variegated figwort
First order of business next spring is dividing Sanguisorba ‘Red Thunder.’ After several years’ growth, its falling-off-the-barstool, lush and leaning ways would be impossible to manage without bronze fennel for support.
Bergenia ciliata in the concrete tank. Digitalis grandiflora, phygelius, thalictrum
This little corner near the east fence somehow became filled with buttery yellows for mid-summer, a gratifying bit of serendipity.
yellow and orange foxgloves that bloom later in summer are my preference over the spring kinds like purpurea
Thalictrum flavum ssp. glaucum seems too delicate a thing to join the mid-summer rumble
When it became apparent that this kniphofia was not the dwarf torch lily I thought I purchased (K. hirsuta), it was moved out of inappropriately tight quarters. So what was it? This summer has indisputably revealed its identity as Kniphofia northiae, the Octopus Red Hot Poker. The polar opposite of K. hirsuta, the dwarf poker, K. northiae is the giant in the group. Apart from pulling off a few tatty lower leaves, it comes through winter looking like this. (At least last winter, which was mild.) It produced a flower in spring, but it’s really more about the shape and scrollwork of the substantial leaves. And it likes my heavy, wet soil too.
Hydrangea ‘Dark Angel’ planted 2022
My sole hydrangea, picked up at the local farmers market a few years ago. Dark leaves, picotee flowers give it a novelty look that leaves me uncommitted, but it pretty much grows itself. I could fill the east borders with them, they love the coast that much. Silver-leaved Argentina lineata was moved to the less crowded east side of the house this spring. Over the years I’ve made repeated attempts to get the spinach substitute purple-leaved orach established enough to self-sow in both north and south gardens. Maybe this year does the trick.
Dahlia ‘Crazy Legs’ picked up at Swan Island Dahlias a few weeks ago, same day as the Cistus Plant Fair
seen around town, white breadseed poppies noted for next year
While in the Bay Area we visited a Gravenstein apple orchard, a fruit that goes back to the 17th century
at the orchard I met a sweet pup named Presley who loved lounging in the thyme
agaves on the streets of San Francisco
I finally secured the sheet of die-cut salvage metal I’ve been eyeing for years at the local welder’s. The owner was never there, no one knew what to charge, etc. etc., but yesterday the stars aligned and we agreed to pay per pound. Tucked out of the way for now. More soon, AGO
at the southern entrance to San Francisco Botanical Garden
I was in the Bay Area last week catching up with familiar places, and discovering some new ones too. Immediately upon arriving at the southern entrance to the San Francisco Botanical Garden (free admission before 9 a.m.!), I was struck by some dark, richly colored planting among broken stonework.
‘Zwartkop’ aeoniums peek over low walls of Spanish limestone
The allure of this little garden of ancient stone and dark-leaved plants and flowers held my interest longer than my companions were willing to wait, and they drifted off as I took time to absorb this small but strongly atmospheric space.
Alstroemeria ‘Indian Summer’
There is a small plaque that briefly explains how these stones from a Spanish monastery ended up in this garden. It’s quite a story. We start with a very wealthy, antiquities-obsessed collector, newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst (aka Citizen Kane). In 1931 he purchased portions of the 12th century monastery Santa Maria de Ovila with the intention to reuse the stones at a Northern California estate. The Spanish government had confiscated the monastery in 1835 and later sold it on for peanuts to a banker, who sold the Chapter House to Hearst.
annual scabiosa and Leucadendron ‘Ebony’
Despite a ban on exporting historical artifacts, Hearst proceeded to build the necessary infrastructure of road and rail to eventually transport the stones on a fleet of 11 ships to a San Francisco warehouse. Later in 1931, after Hearst had acquired approximately 10,000 stones, what remained of the monastery was declared a National Monument of Spain and thus foreclosed to further pillaging.
Library Terrace Garden
Then the Great Depression ruthlessly rearranged wealth and livelihoods. Hearst ended up relatively broke and abandoned the project. Eventually, warehouse storage fees owed to SF were forgiven in exchange for the stones, which were then kept in Golden Gate Park. A plan to use them in some sort of folly in the park failed to secure financing.
Astelia ‘Red Devil’
After decades of storage, with multiple grand plans contemplated and abandoned, in the 1960s the stones found a modest new life in a few places in the botanical garden, including the one that snared my attention, the Library Terrace Garden.
After studying the perimeter plantings for a while, it was time to explore the enclosed space protected by the low retaining walls of Spanish limestone.
The interior courtyard rearranged various stone shapes into rough seating areas and planters, which accentuated the feeling of visiting a tumbled-down ruin.
But the journey of the stones didn’t end at the botanical garden. A Trappist monastery in Vina, California learned of the stones in the ’50s, and a new obsession took form of a more reverential kind; to rebuild a replica of the 800-year-old Chapter House in Northern California.
monastery stones are also included in the garden of scented plants. Nutmeg pelargonium, chocolate cosmos and Lepechina hastata atop the wall
The stones had come full circle, from Hearst’s folly to once again a place of devotion, completed in 2018. Gaps were filled by Texas limestone. Built to earthquake code, “The reassembled chapter house is the largest example of original Cistercian Gothic architecture in the Western Hemisphere, and it is the oldest building in America west of the Rocky Mountains.” (Wikipedia)
nicotiana growing in the stone wallthe stones are dotted throughout the botanical garden. (This leucadendron had small fine leaves and looked to be a dwarf form)monastery stones used in a gazebo near the rhododendron garden
More soon, AGO
(P.S. — I’m having issues with WordPress, so the photos may take a while to load.)
That annoying dream. Shop, prep, cook, plate. And just as you’re sitting down to savor the meal, you realize you’ve forgotten about a very important engagement and must leave the feast and dash out the door. Annoying dream or mid-summer trip, it all means leaving the party in full swing.
Marty tells me it rained overnight and this morning — hallelujah!
Ecological degradation starts innocently enough. On a walk into town, an unexpected jolt of clear orange spotted peripherally doubled me back to the rack of plants always on offer outside the local senior’s center. For sale for $6, and I only had a rumpled fiver in my pocket, but I couldn’t walk away. Promising to come back with the proper amount, after some back-and-forth it was mine for $5.50. (Mid negotiation I found 50 cents in another pocket.). No one knew the name. I told Marty I think it’s a hawkweed. Weird that I would intuit the correct common name. And another vague intuition told me to confine it to a pot.
no color enhancement needed for the Orange hawkweed, ” a class A noxious weed here in Oregon, which means it is a “weed of known economic importance which occurs in small enough infestations to make eradication or containment possible.” Clackamas Soil & Water Conservation District
As soon as it was potted I did an image search: Pilosella aurantiaca (formerly hieracium), the Orange Hawkweed. From the Alps, it’s been in Oregon maybe since the 1920s.
For a brief moment I was hopeful it needn’t be bagged and tossed in the trash. With climate change stressing and pushing fauna and flora off their local patch, there’s been some nuance injected into the discussion of native vs. exotic, with the acknowledgement that some exotics may be useful where natives can no longer cope. And, encouragingly, Beth Chatto Gardens describes it as: “A jolly little plant that adds a dot of orange over a long period from mid-summer to autumn. Long bristly black stems bearing clusters of burnt orange flowers arise from hairy rosettes of basal leaves. Attractive to many pollinators and with a preference for poorer soils, this is one for dry, arid conditions, banks or wildlife gardens. Dainty seeds are dispersed by the wind.”
But giving the Orange Hawkweed the benefit of the doubt, with my enclosed garden within blocks of agricultural land, sounds like trouble for Oregon. It spreads by wind-driven seeds, stolons, and shallow rhizomes, a triple threat. And as if that wasn’t enough guarantee of survival, in its pursuit of monoculture, it possesses allelopathic abilities enabling it to suppress germination of surrounding flora. So add chemical warfare to its survival toolkit. It’s already a serious problem in Alaska. Also known as the Devil’s Paintbrush, an apt common name.
via Wikimedia Commons
So seductively beautiful, so relentlessly aggressive. As a fan of all things orange, I was nearly recruited as one of its minions in aiding its pursuit of world domination, especially in cool wet climates. Marty jokingly said I should “drop a dime” on the sweet lady who sold it to me, aka report her to the invasive plant authorities. I’ll go back with an additional 50 cents and direct her to some info from the Clackamas Soil and Water Conservation District.
Newer streetside dry garden planting, which I believe replaces an old hedge. Stipa gigantea, opuntia, agaves, hesperaloe, so many great stalwart plants, the succulents carefully chosen for hardiness in Portland. But what’s that trunk to the right looming behind the fence?
On May 30 I visited another fascinating Portland garden through the Open Gardens program of the Hardy Plant Society of Oregon. Sometimes the open gardens are closer to me in the farmland surrounding the city, where they of course tend to be much larger. But whether city or exurban, it’s always worth the trip. If I were prone to making assumptions, and unfortunately I kinda am, to my mind a city garden implies small lots with intricate mid-size planting, maybe some screening shrubs and small trees. Well, Pete Eastman and Dayrl Griffin’s garden in a historic district of Portland proves the axiom: Never assume anything.
surprisingly, this is none other than the Dawn Redwood, Metasequoia glyptostroboides, looming over streetside plantings, aka the “water pine,” thought to be extinct until a small grove was found in China in 1944. Official state fossil of Oregon. A deciduous conifer, a living oxymoron!
These guys on their double lot dream big.
In this garden, it pays to keep track of the canopy overhead. Golden Honeylocust with I believe a Weeping Alaskan Cedar to its left
some of my favorite planting was in this new sidewalk border with retaining wall. That scarlet salvia seemed surprisingly large and floriferous for May
salvias, hardy fuchsias, linaria, with hellebores, Japanese forest grass and much more at the base of the retaining wall
Strong interactivity with the garden behind the fence and the very savvy streetside planting that’s covering the ground by the end of May. More photos of the rose arbor from inside the garden below.
the narrow border grew some surprisingly statuesque plants like this cardoon
this Lobelia tupa in Portland was way ahead of mine at the coast
gunnera in the front entry with water garden
front door to the house, garden entryway is opposite the broken concrete path
discussing ongoing recovery of the Wollemia nobilis. Weeping Alaskan Cedar on the right. This area is a woodland garden “filled with daphne, hellebores, hostas, hydrangeas, rhododendrons”
When I left the sidewalk plantings and stepped up the walkway into the garden, I found the owners discussing the winter damage recovery of their Wollemia nobilis with visitors. This discussion went on for some time, so I drifted within earshot of the conversation. Garden owners are incredibly generous with their time and energy in opening their gardens, but it must be maddening to answer the same questions dozens of times. If there’s a chance to eavesdrop, I always take it. (I think this is accepted garden tour protocol, right?)
Wollemi Pine making a recovery, I’m guessing from the ice storm of 2024
Like the Dawn Redwood, the Wollemi Pine is another living fossil, one of the world’s oldest and rarest trees. We’re talking dating to the dinosaur era. A theme was emerging. This garden had a lot on its mind and wasn’t just another pretty face.
daphne in the woodland garden
leading out of the woodland garden into the back garden where “sunnier areas are devoted to tropicals, roses, and perennials. Large mature windmill palms and bamboo groves form the backdrop for colorful beds brimming with bananas, cannas, abutilons, gingers, dahlias, and more. 10′ metal obelisks filled with climbing roses are surrounded by colorful beds of summer perennials such as monarda, hemerocallis, salvias, lilies, peonies, and fuchsias.”
axial grass path centered on the house, sitting area under deodar cedar and bamboo on the far right
one of a pair of flamboyant urns that flank a path, yellow bromeliads mulched with turquoise glass. Rose is ‘Golden Celebration,’ an older Austin released in the ’90s.
and this is why the garden is called “Musa in the City.” Central fountain with a rose arbor in the distance. Red blooms in the grass corner on the right are phygelius, another plant much further along than mine at the coast
the rose arbor was first seen from the street
incredible statement from the hardy bananas (Musa basjoo?) in May when other tropicals are still waking up
The owner mentioned how the roses bridge end of spring plantings with early summer before the tropicals hit their stride
the large fountain really holds its own as a centerpiece in the grassed paths. Arbor beyond the bromeliad urns leads to the woodland garden.
roses and clematis on 10-foot metal obelisk
paved sitting area under the deodar cedar
Cedrus deodara from the Himalayas where it’s known as the “timber of the gods”
palm, bamboo, deodar cedar, banana and festive umbrellas sum up the garden’s eclectic and sassy attitude
the “moai” is extremely photogenic and doesn’t have a bad angle
engulfed in carex and eucomis. Background of burgundy and chartreuse might be loropetalum and Aralia ‘Sun King.’ Couldn’t even make a guess on the bamboo with the spectacular golden culms
What are ground covers in Los Angeles become specimen plantings of tender aeoniums in the PNW — it all depends on your POV! But you won’t find martagon lilies in LA.
The sunny plantings bisected with grassy paths were impressive feats of horticulture. Meticulously planted and maintained, it very much reminded me of gardens I visited years ago on Long Island in the style of Landcraft Environments.
More from the handout: “We live and garden on two city lots, just steps from the bustling Mississippi Historic District. We have been gardening in this space since 1988. In 2003, we purchased the vacant lot to our south and the main garden was created.”
My compact form of Senecio/Brachyglottis greyi is now shining forth in bloom. And this is after getting frequently trimmed for size to keep it off the manzanita. I love it in the nubby pearly bud stage, which lasts a while, but have no quarrel with the yellow daisy stage either. For me summer and yellow are inseparable.
still serenely silver in the early summer nubby bud stage
I’ve read that the yellow daisies are considered a drawback, and some opt to shear them off. And that’s cool. I’ve pulled out flourishing plants whose color I just couldn’t wake up to another morning.
burgundy and yellow/gold have been pals since medieval times, expensive to produce, coveted by clergy and nobility
Bees are drawn to yellow flowers, while the color seems to set some people on edge. Maybe there’s a linkage there: instinctive fear of getting stung? Perhaps people find it a bit on the common, lowbrow side of the color spectrum. After all, yellow is one of the most common flower colors of weeds. The bee’s survival depends on honing in on yellow; in the garden, we have the luxury to indulge personal aesthetics. (And aesthetics haven’t always been a personal choice. In medieval times, “sumptuary laws” prescribed fabric colors based on rank and were enforced by punishment.).
Manipulating plants like shearing off flowers sounds so unnatural, but hey that’s horticulture. Every volunteer seedling we pull or allow to grow, what we deadhead or allow to set seed. Topiary, pollarding, pleaching, grafting, hedging. Training vines through shrubs, etc (this year it’s rhodochiton again, Cobaea scandens, and Jerry’s Tropaeoleum tuberosum.).
Tropaeolum tuberosum from Jerry/Botanica Chaotica via Dirty Digger’s Plant Sale
Just this morning I limbed up the little ‘Sunset’ manzanita in the stock tank to keep it off the phlomis in the ground below. It was past time to reveal that sexy burgundy armature anyway. And speaking of phlomis, that’s another one that gets a bad rap for its yellow flowers.
knock wood, Arctostaphylos ‘Sunset’ still enjoying container life
Making a garden is a glorious, ruthless business, full of color disputes and rancorous opinions. More please!
burgundy penstemons, ‘Raven’ foreground, ‘Mockingbird’ background. Oh, and that background blur of pink? It’s been pulled out (Diascia personata)
Have a great week. We’re hoping for less firework activity so Billie catches a break and gets a good night’s sleep. We hiked that little dog 3 miles yesterday around Soapstone Lake — she needs her rest! More soon, AGO
Aloe pluridens with kangaroo paws — photos by MB Maher
I got an unexpected peek at my Long Beach, Calif. garden courtesy of the watering crew. It does my heart good to see it in fair shape for July, even if a little on the wild side. So many kangaroo paws!
Lots of talismans for me in this little garden — Euphorbia canariensis bought at the 2014 closing sale of downtown Hotel Figueroa which opened as a women-only hostel in 1926, now run by the Hyatt
yellow blooms way in the back, could that be Aloe lukeana? If so, wow! I didn’t think it was mature enough for so many blooms. Marty rebuilt that garden shed for me, originally from Smith & Hawken which closed in 2009
a lily making a surprise appearanceAgave ‘Cornelius’ was close to death in the ground, still in recovery mode in a pot (on the stool) but looking OK (or is that ‘Frostbite’?!)
The little ceramic Buddha mask was found nailed to a telephone pole in San Francisco decades ago. For whatever reason, the masks mysteriously appeared all over town.
while I’m away the creeping fig is making a resurgence on the back wall, overrunning the bromeliads — admittedly the juvenile growth is very cool but it doesn’t get to stay.hard to tell but I truly have been thinning out all the accumulated stuff. We’re talking going back to 1989!
The LA County glass light shades began to be phased out in the 1950s
Isn’t June great? I’ve decided to hang out with June for as long as possible, so bear with me for yet another post on what’s possibly my favorite month.
Looking at other June gardens is a great way to find unfamiliar but promising plants. It’s also massively instructive to observe familiar plants in growing conditions different from those at home. I popped in briefly at the Wonder Garden last week and found some stellar performances by plants in June that are doing absolutely nothing in my garden yet. The heat and berms with freer drainage make all the difference for plants like eryngiums and berkheya here at the coast. My struggling berkheya was moved this spring for some breathing room on an open edge. It is alive, but feast your eyes on what a happy berkheya looks like in bud, leaf, flower and stem.
Eryngium paniculatum
The flowering shoots on my Eryngium paniculatum are just now swelling, whereas in Manzanita it’s in full-on flower. It’s a little confusing to find this eryngo occasionally described as a towering giant. Flowering to 3 feet is what I’ve observed, both at home (eventually) and at the Wonder Garden. There might be some confusion afoot with the tall Eryngium eburneum, but I’m not sure who’s got it right. Adding to the confusion, sometimes the names are treated as synonyms. Could they be the same plant, with height variations due to seed strain and geographic location of seed collection? I just brought home Eryngium eburneum from Cistus Nursery (along with Euphorbia ceratocarpa!) so in time I may be able to compare for myself.
Eryngium paniculatum loving life at the edge of a berm at the Wonder Garden proving the importance of open air circulation for certain plants
Dianthus ‘Chomley Farran’
Also newsworthy at the Wonder Garden, the heirloom Dianthus ‘Chomley Farran’ has finally hit its stride after malingering for years. Exquisite as a cut flower, it flops about a bit in the garden. A survivor of the 18th and 19th century craze for “bizarre” carnations, it’s a living embodiment of the changing tastes and fascinating idiosyncrasies that occasionally erupt throughout horticultural history.
Popsicle series kniphofia coming into bloom
wider view with kniphofia in foreground
A small scene of some plant love on the main drag in Manzanita. A jaunty red metal parasol for Agave parryi (hardy) with potted Agave americana var. medio-picta ‘Alba’ (nonhardy), horned poppies, lilies, and large leaves of Lepechinia hastata. The lepechinia I brought north the first year or so passed on early, so I always check in on this one which has been flourishing for several years.
Gladiolus ‘Ruby’
At home Gladiolus ‘Ruby’ began opening the last couple days. Here’s a bulb that’s done some traveling. Ordered from a grower in the UK in 2014, it’s been speared and disturbed since that time, a casualty of the zone 10 garden’s frequent upheavals and changes in direction. This April I noticed bulb foliage nosing up in a path. The shape of the leaf indicated either the inferior strain of Byzantine gladiolus that proliferates in the garden or the choice ‘Ruby.’ Having already stepped on the emerging foliage repeatedly, I dug up the pathway bulbs and brought them north for a chance to reveal their true identity. These are what are in bloom now. Looking at the photos in the link provided, it’s pretty clear where this bulb is happiest.
Spires of Digitalis parviflora are starting to color and stretch
A surprisingly substantial amount of rain Saturday brought Thalictrum ‘Elin’ down to eye level
And that’s the last post in June, promise. More soon, AGO.
