When my boys were 5 and 10, respectively, I would have gladly had that moment last about 10 more years. And I knew it at the time. Just stop the clock, please. Gardens are all about change, too, and I love that about them. But sometimes I wish a moment would last a couple seasons or three or five. When an area gets overgrown, rather than try to restore it, I generally rip it up and try something new. So garden scenes come and go.
I like this little corner off the kitchen, but it’s reached critical mass and will need thinning. Eucalyptus ‘Moon Lagoon” was pruned fairly heavily last fall, cutting into 1-inch diameter branches. It jumps right back and keeps those gorgeous juvenile leaves. So there are some things on which you can inflict perpetual childhood. ‘Moon Lagoon’ isn’t going anywhere because…well, just look at it. I can’t ever imagine getting tired of looking at that. The ‘Blue Flame’ agaves are pupping furiously. A couple offsets are still in large pots on the fireplace mantle indoors. I grow soft-leaved agaves close to the paths, a kind of sneaky way to grab more garden, but I really should stop it. I notice some visitors get instantly wobbly on their feet when plants are nearby, like the garden is a gravity well pulling them in. Undecided whether these agaves should stay or go. The corner aloe is ‘Cynthia Giddy’ and she’s got nowhere left to grow. I still haven’t seen a bloom yet so won’t thin this clump until that happens. Yes, that’a a painter’s tarp partially obscuring the door to the office. They make great tablecloths too. And cushion covers. So tough, so cheap, so useful. The light this time of year hits us right in the eyes sitting at our desks. Awnings would be great eventually. Or another narrow pergola running along this side. I need to raise those sinking bricks too. The mortared brick path on the right was inherited with the house, so we matched it with bricks laid on sand, which settles and sinks eventually.
Projects, projects, they multiply like aphids around here. Not enough time.
After moving the slipper plant/pedilanthus from a large pot, some of the stems browned and dried off. There’s an example on the left. It’s pretty much recovered, all gorgeous and green, flowering as well as it has since the move. Might need to move it again to allow the eucalyptus more room.
The succulents at the base of the slipper plant have nowhere to go either, just when they start to look really happy. I think I bought this aeonium under the label. A. rubrolineatum but I doubt that’s what it is. Gardens keep time at the forefront of the brain, and that’s a good and important lesson. But it doesn’t mean I can’t grouse about it now and then.
Have a great weekend.
Change is good, but I know the feeling about wanting to hold some scenes in stasis. My own garden tends to keep a bit more constant, out of laziness mostly, I don’t give it the attention that client’s gardens receive. Plus, it helps that bromeliads don’t get taller, just wider via pups; much easier to thin out occasionally and keep the same size.
I dream of the day when my plants mingle closely like yours! I have a striped Aeonium that looks a lot like yours – it was labeled A. leucoblepharum.
@David, I’ve just now started moving broms out of pots and into the ground under the shade of trees, directly as a result of the Feixian influence.
@Kris, that Echeveria agavoides in the photo with the aeonium is the one that offsets like crazy. If I haven’t already given you some, I need to. You’ll have ground covered in no time!
Maybe those wobbly bricks just need to be lifted–y’know more garden !I finally found Moon Lagoon at Seaside Gardens. I am keeping it in a pot for the time being. The last thing I need is more trees.
A beautiful corner. I like the outdoor clock–so useful when you are out there for hours. Terrible day today in FL, the garden beauty is a comfort.
A beautiful scene: looks just right to me. I love your sentiment about garden chores multiplying like aphids. So true. There are garden scenes of days gone by that I miss, but there are always new plants to try and new combinations to create. I generally call my style of gardening ‘The Editor’: often I don’t take time to enjoy the garden, I simply proofread.