Sudden Mediterranean Plant Collapse Disorder

I made that name up. But it’s true, collapse and then a swift death does come suddenly to mediterranean plants in lusty health mid-summer.

Which is why I’m ecstatic that this one cutting of Coronilla valentina subsp. glauca ‘Variegata’ has rooted. Emergency cuttings were taken just before it collapsed in a dessicated heap a couple summers ago, a sad day. I was truly smitten with this plant. I’d never seen one before and haven’t since, so it’s fairly rare. But at first glance, some plants just seem to make perfect sense to me. (Some good plants, like cannas, takes years to warm up to.) The scarce information I could find came from, of course, English garden writers (Val Bourne writing for The Telegraph.) A fragrant, evergreen, winter-blooming shrub in the pea family with bright yellow flowers and rue-like foliage that has an especially shimmering quality in the variegated form. ‘Citrina’ has paler yellow flowers.

Unfortunately, the little cutting appears to have reverted to the non-variegated, so we can drop the ‘Variegata.’ The original plant came home from a road trip up the West Coast, purchased from the Portland, Oregon nursery Cistus several years ago, and had reached a lanky 5 feet before its sudden death. In late February, I was sure new growth on the cutting showed definite signs of variegation, which can just be made out in the photo, or so I deceived myself at the time.

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But wishing does not make it so, and the variegation did not come through. Photo taken in April.

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That fateful day in August I knew the coronilla’s collapse was imminent and just managed to get some decent cutting material before its untimely end.
I’ve experienced this late summer plant collapse disorder before. Leaves lose their luster, look water-stressed, so you instinctively pour on the water, which hastens an even swifter death, stimulating some nasty soil pathogens running amok in the warm soil of late summer. And by the time the plant looks obviously stressed, it’s too late to do anything anyway. Other victims have been cistus, coprosma, olearias, prostrantherum. Soil too enriched? Too clayey? Too much water? The latter theory seems to be the conventional wisdom on this little-discussed subject, but my garden is, if anything, kept too dry. From the Cistus Nursery description: “Quite summer drought tolerant in dappled shade to bright sun. Lean conditions create more compactness.” Mine was a lanky 5-footer, so the soil may have been too rich. It’s also true that these mediterraneans are generally considered to be short-lived, but I never did see this young coronilla flower.

*From Mediterranean Gardening: A Waterwise Approach, by Heidi Gildemeister: “Air circulation around or within plants during summer heat is vital to Mediterranean vegetation.” Dense planting is a continual weakness of mine, but I try to be vigilant. Just last week I did a major thinning of the front gravel garden.
Leucadendrons and dwarf olives still encroach on Agave ‘Mr. Ripple,’ but I’m assuming he’s tough enough to take a little crowding.

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Spring’s irrational exuberance is no time for morbid concerns. And, in any case, it looks like I’ll get another chance with this beautiful shrub — always keeping a steady supply of cuttings in reserve.

*Edited 5/2/11 to add a very important detail from the same book: “Overhead irrigation results in premature death.”

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Armchair Spelunking

I’m a little excited this morning. Some clues…
What do all these images have to do with each other?
Explorers, cave paintings, spiritual communion with rocks…

Ralph Fiennes as Count Laszlo Almasy, The English Patient; Anne-Louise Lambert as Miranda, Picnic At Hanging Rock.
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Seeing things on film you’d otherwise be unable to experience.

Werner Herzog’s Encounters at the End of the World.
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The incredible ability of movies to capture our all-too-brief love affair with the physical world.

Something that we’ve been documenting for a very long time.

Cave of Swimmers, Western Egypt
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Werner Herzog’s new documentary, Cave of Forgotten Dreams, is in limited release this weekend.

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Urbane Nasturtiums

I’ve been transplanting a few self-sown nasturtiums and tucked a couple in with some eucomis bulbs to spill out of an ancient cast-iron sewer pipe that somehow made its way here years ago.

I wonder which previous car’s shocks had to absorb that load.

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Brought home no doubt during the same period when I couldn’t walk away from a cast-off manhole cover either.

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Or an old street lamp glass shade. I seem to be continually bringing home bits of aging cities.

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Nasturtiums flourish in whatever contains them, be it the finest Impruneta terracotta, a rusty sewer pipe, or an abandoned city lot.
Common and easy, but no less exquisite.

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Pelargonium ‘Splendide’

From Robin Parer’s nursery Geraniaceae

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“A scandent shrub; leaves are pinnate, grey and hairy; a truly splendid hybrid with red upper petals, a dark center and almost white lower petals; do not leave outside in rain and prune very carefully.”

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Horticulture’s Continuing PR Problems

In a March 12, 2011 issue of The New York Times, in a column by Maureen Dowd entitled “In Search of Monsters,” Ms. Dowd comments on the suitability of Donald Rumsfeld giving current foreign policy advice: “You would think that [he] would have the good manners to shut up and take up horticulture.”

Politics aside, I just can’t get over Ms. Dowd’s back-handed slap at horticulture.

Mr. Rumsfeld, coming to a community garden near you.
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The Kashmir Cypress

A pre-dinner garden tour at Dustin’s.

“What is it?” I asked.

You asked me that last time,” he answered patiently. “It’s psoralea.”

Oh, the Kool-Aid something or other?” (Strange, how memory works.)

Right,” he explained, “from Annie’s.

His psoralea is growing up into a beautiful little tree.

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Landscape Crit

A new shopping center was planted with sharp plants four years ago. Agaves, yuccas.
I was thrilled but also slightly alarmed.

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Whoosh

This spring I am not going to be drawn into running out into the garden with my camera every time I hear the whoosh of a rapid aerial descent then the whirring of tiny wings. I don’t have the stamina or the lens for it. I swear these will be the last 58 frustrating attempts at capturing this little guy on the wing.
You can just make out his mocking smile.

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We’re both just not interested anymore. Really. We are so…over…hummingbirds.

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Whoosh!

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Roof Dogs

To every urban challenge, there is a potentially joyful response.

Image found here.

Roof Dogs, a movie by MB Maher.

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Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch- Cherry Bomb

Anyone else curious enough about “The Runaways” movie last year, based on the eponymous, all-girl, Los Angeles-based band of the mid ’70s, to see it in a theater?

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Cherry Bomb was their big radio hit, Joan Jett the post-Runaways star. I’d almost forgotten about the band, which wasn’t at all a favorite musically, but an all-girl group was definitely an attention-getter in that pre-Madonna/Lady Gaga moment in music. As the movie documents, the band was the cynical creation of a hard-boiled huckster, a gimmicky concept band which was jarringly out of place in the midst of the earnest DIY punk explosion alongside such great seminal LA bands as Black Flag and X (whose searing performances were captured by Penelope Spheeris in her documentaryThe Decline of Western Civilization, unfortunately still unavailable from Netflix). But I was hoping the movie would at least serve as a nostalgia trip, with fastidious set recreations of the Whiskey and the Troubador clubs, maybe cleverly inserted footage of some of the other bands playing at that time. Disappointingly, that wasn’t the case, but the two lead actresses worked hard to portray the jail-bait, punk Eliza Doolittles. (In reference to George B. Shaw’s Pygmalion heroine, not the young English pop singer. I hate it when what were once-enduring cultural references get muddied and have to be explained.)

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A ‘Cherry Bomb’ I do like is this lampranthus, which I stuck in one of the succulent baskets hung on tripod stilts last year. Now that it’s blooming, of course, I can’t help but stutter every time I say this iceplant’s name. It’s bombing away, trailing down the sides of the mossed basket with other succulents, which is a possible solution to lack of space for these galloping ground swallowers in climates where they thrive. Might also be something new to try as an annual for summer containers.

Some plants, like some bands, only know a few chords but still manage to communicate immense vitality.

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