Dahlia ‘Windcliff Peach’ in a 17-gallon galvanized “bushel basket” under $30, a roomy container option
I love my new single dahlia so much I had to post another photo. Blazingly hot but fresh color is a nice look for an August that feels autumnal already. A cool August has brought the small herd of elk down from the mountains to the coast earlier than usual this year to their favorite winter grazing, a farm field off 101 about 5 miles north of me. I have a feeling the herd will magically disappear again by Thursday, headed for cooler mountain haunts, with temps predicted for 85F — not terrific heat but uncomfortable enough if you’re wearing a fur coat. The garden glistened from overnight rain this morning, but my potted dahlia will need vigilant watering in the coming heat later in the week to keep floating those saffron daisies through September. I love the sensation of the garden serving course after visual course through fall.
Just behind the phormium is where a lot of the late show is happening — selinum, joe-pye weed newly blooming against the established, long-blooming backdrop of Sanguisorba ‘Red Thunder,’ dahlias, patrinia, Persicaria polymorpha. I’m thinking about thinning the burgeoning phormium next year, depending on what this winter has in store. Maybe it will do some of the work for me. (Not in photo — Eryngium pandanifolium has three bloom stalks this year, taller than joe-pye weed so 7ish feet. And on the subject of eryngos, E. yuccifolium has just one bloom stalk, possibly diminishing from too much shade from the maturing tetrapanax. I’ll move just about any plant other than this touchy, tap-rooted eryngium. Better to start again from seed.)
The white and purple umbels of Selinum wallichianum and joe-pye weed are a great match for August
The joe-pye weed was lightly cut back around June so is possibly not as tall this year — 6 feet is a more than adequate height! Cirsium ‘Trevor’s Blue Wonder’ still throwing the occasional thistle bloom
another big presence, Lobelia tupa rubs shoulders with the joe-pye weed, about 14 stalks this year, screened in this view by Stipa gigangtea
Helianthus ‘Lemon Queen’ was moved into the southeast corner last year and was also lightly chopped back in June. (Unseen in photo, Salvia uliginosa nearby started blooming at the same time — always a surprise how late this salvia is here at the coast. But at least the bog sage ultimately delivers — Salvia patens is not worth growing here at all.)
In August Persicaria polymorpha’s white panicles begin to blush pink. This is not the invasive Japanese knotweed and doesn’t spread by underground runners — or seed, for that matter. Just a really good, easy shrub-like perennial all summer.
Lunaria annua ‘Chedglow’
This display of characterful leaves that’s extended all summer may be a one-off, so I’m hesitant to talk about them because I don’t fully understand what’s going on. They are carpeting the narrow border on the north side of the house. Lunaria is a biennial, so when these plants bloom next spring this show of leaves will be over. Somehow the timing of when I sowed and planted them resulted in big lush leaves all summer. It’s probably just a fluke that will be impossible to replicate. (The same lunaria in the back garden shows spindly leaf growth.) Lots of seed-grown aquilegia planted here are now buried under the lush growth of the lunaria (A. viridiflora, atrata, oxysepala) — oof! Like all lunaria, ‘Chedglow’ reseeds like crazy, so there will be plenty of opportunities to experiment again. Hopefully the baby columbine buried under those leaves have a survival plan they’re working on…
August means standing room only, playing all the cards, smoke ’em if you got ’em
August can be a rough month. In either of my gardens, I’ve never had to deal with summer rainfall, flooding, plants getting pummeled by rainstorms like some of the East Coast and South are suffering under. And coastal Los Angeles gets relatively mild heat compared to some of the numbers cities are posting this summer. But August was still a dreaded month in my Los Angeles garden, one of the world’s five Mediterranean climates zones. By August the soil no longer wants to play garden and seems determined to reassert its hydrophobic, summer-dry chaparral nature. By August, moody and beneficent early morning marine layers are pfffft, and all the pots and containers now feel tethered to the gardener with a ball and chain. No doubt I have too many Los Angeles Augusts to blame for the skin cancer recently removed. Ants in the house are a feature of August in LA, and now newcomer mosquitos are the latest summer harassment.
Here on the Oregon coast there’s none of that sense of a doomed, relentless march into the cotton-mouthed maw of August. Barring wildfires, as in 2021, August at the Oregon Coast, 45th parallel, is no sweat. It reminds me a lot of San Francisco summers, also cool, misty and rainless. But if you do hate overcast skies til early afternoon, a cool ocean that demands wetsuits for swimming, and feel the same way about 8-9 months of winter rain as an Oregon expat I recently met who fled to Arizona, the summer bargain might not be enough of a payoff for you.
Silver Spike grass (Achnatherum calamagrostis) would be flattened in a rainy summer climate, fronted by Penstemon ‘Dark Towers’ still looking great when going to seed — photo by MB Maher
But gardens? Summer at the Oregon coast is easy on the garden. I’m finding that August skips along pretty much like July, temperature-wise, except August signals the summer annuals that now is their moment.
Cosmos ‘Apricotta’ in right foreground
August activated the cosmos and zinnias I sowed in April for a small cut flower garden. Every sign of plant life in April is hyper-celebrated, so of course I saved all the seedlings. The cut flower 4X8′ area could only handle so many, but the cosmos slip into the main garden unobtrusively, billowing upward from a narrow, V-shaped footprint.
Cosmos ‘Apricotta’ with Persicaria ‘Summer Dance,’ also new this summer
If August in my LA garden was a time to lie low and not make any sudden moves, on the Oregon coast fine tuning and planting continues into July and August, with the first frost in fall the hard backstop. I’ve been playing around with the dozens of cosmos, some planted into the garden, some plunged in pots. I love having new plants to mess with, new growth to watch for, deadheading to prolong bloom. The castor bean is still making size, and the amaranthus are just budding. The zinnias I’ve kept to the cutting garden.
‘Apricotta’ is tall and billowy, 3-foot now, the darker ‘Xsenia’ a foot shorter
Cosmos ‘Xsenia’ working with shrubs and perennials
Cosmos ‘Xsenia’ with Podocarpus macrophyllus ‘Mood Ring’ in foreground
Cosmos ‘Rubenza’ sown in June opening fast on the heels of cosmos sown in April. Great velvety substance to the petals, long cuttable stems
Dahlia brought back from Windcliff, a seedling of ‘Forncett’s Furnace’ Hinkley is calling ‘Windcliff Peach’
planted spring 2024 Dahlia ‘Verrone’s Obsidian’
Dahlia ‘Camano Sitka’ reliably returns in spring — vigorous is an understatement, with very strong stems
Ricinus communis ‘New Zealand Purple’ — from weed status in my LA garden to coveted late summer annual in Oregon
Zinnia seed from Floret Farms and their pastel-centric breeding program. Flowering beginning in August from seed started in April, slow growth June and July then jumping into action now. This is either ‘Alpenglow’ or ‘Dawn Creek Pastels’
Joe-pye weed budding up, none the worse for the slug attacks that persisted through June then abated in July
Helenium ‘Sahin’s Early’ — bought budded up. The trick will be getting it through slug season next spring. I hear it’s a favorite.
I’m hoping to check in on family and friends in LA this winter, help the garden recover from my extended absence, and maybe catch some of my aloes in bloom. Hope you’re finding something to enjoy this August!
A quick thanks, a few photos, and a short introduction to the Garden Fling, in the off chance a reader of AGO has never heard of this special garden tour.
a beach at Vashon Island
Since 2008, the garden tour now known as the Garden Fling has changed names and broadened enrollment, but its basic premise remains the same. A tour of a region’s gardens, plant nurseries, and botanical gardens is developed, curated and hosted by those that know them best, the local gardeners. As far as I know, this grassroots familiarity with a region makes these garden tours unique.
Hydrangeas were one of the signature plants on the tour, along with lilies, clematis, ferns, conifers and an amazing array of rare plants sourced from the many excellent regional plant nurseries supported by a vibrant PNW garden culture
Last weekend (July 19-22) our two buses visited 23 Tacoma/Seattle gardens in four days, and included the PNW twist of a ferry ride to visit gardens on Vashon Island. Thanks to the hard-working local hosts, the logistics and travel details were handled cheerfully and flawlessly.
This entirely volunteer-led effort is an outgrowth of a deep love of gardens and plants and the desire to share them with other enthusiasts, via blogs and other social media (and, through the tour, IRL). Sponsors step in to help grease the tour wheels — thanks to all of you as well!
dieramas and eucomis shine in a complex planting at Heronswood
The Pacific Northwest continues to loom in the public imagination as an eternally overcast land of misty forests, which is true for some of the year, but it also contends with very dry summers and, now, record heat waves. And increasingly winter brings uncharacteristic, zone-regressing cold events, like last winter’s January ice storm. If the tour gardens sustained winter losses, it was apparent only to the owners — it all looked glorious to me.
To me many of the gardens, intentionally or not, evoke a wander through the coastal forest. Narrow paths instead of broad walks, changes in levels, switchbacks, carefully layered understories, hidden pools — garden-making in response to, and inspired by, living in the world’s largest temperate rain forest. There were plenty of sun-loving plants and spaces allowed for them, but the forest was an undeniably magnificent presence in the gardens we visited.
a water fern blanketing a pond, Rhododendron Species Botanical Garden
a formal water feature PNW-style, filled with sarracenia/pitcher plants (Heronswood)
the Heckler garden on the Kitsap Peninsula brought out paper parasols to protect hydrangeas from recent 90F temps. Tour days were warm but fortunately ranged in the 80sF.
Because I traveled by car, I was able to indulge in some ferocious plant shopping at Windcliff, and the bus handily absorbed my flat of plants thanks to our friendly bus driver. Many of us have attended several Garden Fling tours, but there’s always new faces aboard the bus. And meeting online friends for the first time is so much fun — printed words can’t compare to freewheeling conversation with observant, sardonic, witty, opinionated plant people. It was such a good time, many thanks to all who made it happen!
It’s like a switch was flipped and a jolt of electricity hit the garden. July is potent stuff. Things are really starting to move and shimmy and shine now that the grasses are blooming.
Achnatherum calamagrostis, Kniphofia ‘Timothy’ and phormium
Verbascum roripifolium on the right. Two plants overwintered, grew very tall in early summer, wind broke a couple feet off one plant and it’s branched out horizontally. This unbroken plant pictured is more tall and graceful of the two.
Kniphofia ‘Timothy’ and Teucrium hircanicum
Heliopsis ‘Bleeding Hearts’ is so good — great leaves, long-lasting zinnia-like flowers, doesn’t need staking in heavy wind, slugs mostly leave it alone, doesn’t beg for water either
heliopsis with deschampsia
A couple of blooming agapanthus were dropped into the garden this July. ‘Xera’s Cobalt’ replaced some struggling echinacea which didn’t make much heft in three years. Love the agapanthus with Euphorbia griffithii.
Persicaria affinis new this summer
Patrinia is getting squeezed by sanguisorba and Persicaria polymorpha — decisions for next spring
Cirsium rivulare ‘Trevor’s Blue’ stretching as tall as Sanguisorba ‘Red Thunder’ and matching its intensity in color
Eryngium paniculatum, cotula, salvias
Morina longifolia
Eryngium variifolium
The cosmos started from seed in April just opening first flowers, three varieties, ‘Xsenia’ and ‘Fandango’ and ‘Apricotta’ — this is probably ‘Apricotta,’ Making note for next year to not expect much from annuals until July. A second sowing of zinnias and cosmos in June are nearly catching up to those sown in April.
a bright fuchsia pink dierama blooming for the first time this July — misplaced the label
dark seed strain from Dancing Oaks, five flowering stems this summer
Allium ‘Millenium’ was moved out of the border and into the gravel area
couple phygelius in the garden, this one ‘Strawberry Blonde’
9 p.m. looking west at Eryngium agavifolium, asphodels simultaneously with blooms and seedheads, a fun look, Hebe ‘Western Hills’ lower right. The long dusks are a cool respite for the garden, for all of us.
this photo was brightened a bit, but not much
After three years, these long summer days still amaze me. These photos were taken at 9 p.m. last night! On the 4th fireworks were useless until well after 10 p.m. — but that didn’t stop the neighbors. Loud booms are effective day or night. My neighbor reported one small brushfire at the coast that was quickly put out. What price fun, huh? Temps did top 90F Friday, into the low 80sF yesterday, and that’s the end of our portion of this extended heat wave. Nothing compared to the continuing ordeal faced by those living further inland. I’m very grateful for everything this administration has done to engage with carbon emissions, an effort that will always get my vote no matter who is on the ticket. If only minority rule aka the electoral college had not prevented us from getting a jump on heat-trapping gases in 2000…
Digitalis parviflora with Miscanthus ‘Flamingo,’ left, one of the last miscanthus in the back garden. I can easily understand how Miscanthus giganteus is used in biofuel production. Unsure if Digitalis ferruginea will bloom later, the rosettes are still small. Digitalis parviflora seems to be the more reliable of the rusty summer-blooming floxgloves
[Sidebar: On the subject of necessary regulations, I will add one observation to the ongoing discussion of the divergent voting habits of rural vs. urban voters. It’s a personal theory, one of many! Rural industries (“blue collar”) — here it’s farming, fishing, logging — compared to most “white collar” jobs are necessarily carefully regulated in ways that are immediately and personally impactful. For example, when the local small fisherman temporarily can’t clam, crab, or harvest oysters due to high microbial activity, it is an undoubted hardship to bear. Health of consumers is of paramount concern, so oversight agencies don’t mess around. Public health issues can’t be left to the honor system. (And resource management left to vested interests can result in no resources to manage at all. The last sea otter, a keystone species, was killed in Oregon in 1907 out of an estimated population of a million pre-fur trade.) But for small rural towns, and this is an international problem, in addition to an aging population, loss of tax base revenue, “big box” monopolies (on-line and brick-and-mortar), I do think the regulation issue is prime for exploiting and inflaming by outside economic interests that operate at a much larger scale than the small town sole proprietor — hence, the recent unfortunate Supremes decision gutting authority of regulatory agencies, the beginning of the long-sought dismantling of the so-called “administrative state.” Yes, there will always be examples of regulatory overreach to rally indignation, but my vote will always go for prioritizing clean water, air, and safe food. As far as struggling rural towns, my fever dream is the rise of remote work allows these beautiful places to repopulate and emptying urban office buildings become converted to housing,…]
Lots of descriptions of Sanguisorba ‘Red Thunder’ caution to stake if your garden is windy. (Raises hand.). Couple windy afternoons literally knocked this big burnet sideways, so some of the heavier branches were pruned to lighten the weight. Makes amazing cut flowers!
Seguing to slug control (ha!)…this morning I decided to throw down some snail bait pellets. Beer traps were effective primarily if I carried the mollusks to the traps and dropped them in the Guinness bath. (And Marty strenuously objected to use of Guinness as pest control.) The dahlias were “Chelsea-chopped” in early summer, and the slugs and snails also did their part in restricting growth, so buds are now forming on leafless stems. For next year, even though dahlias overwinter in the ground here, I may lift the dahlias and grow them in pots to protect young growth.
mostly, no mollusk control needed
But it is surprising how many plants escape the mollusks’ notice. Dahlias and joe-pye weed have been the primary targets. Annuals like zinnias and cosmos too, but not calendula. I’ve been hesitant to use snail bait, even though the pellets are proclaimed to be “pet and wildlife safe” — I guess it’s a matter of trusting the labeling. Let me know if you’ ve heard otherwise.
As Metapanax delavayi in the center fills in, many of the surrounding herbaceous plants needed relocation. Tetrapanax towers over the patio roof now, changing light patterns under its canopy and running at the root into the gravel. Stipa gigantea has an enormous footprint but is indispensable. Extreme right, a glimpse of 5’x5′ Persicaria polymorpha . Its shrub-like enormity will most likely have to be thinned out next spring. For now branches are pruned to allow sunlight on neighboring plants.
I broke my shovel yesterday, the trusty decades’ old one I brought up north. There’s a metaphor there somewhere. It’s seen a lot of action, especially this spring/early summer. The back garden has left behind that deliciously expectant phase, like being pregnant really, and entered the sobering reality of caring for a rambunctious toddler. Margaret Roach’s excellent article on the High Line was a reassuring and timely read for me. (“Change is the only constant.”). My 3-year-old garden now requires many of the same maneuvers, interventions, and relocations to settle land disputes and preserve air and sun rights as the 15-year-old High Line — on a vastly different scale, of course (and without having to contend with only 16 inches of soil!)
Things are tight! Persicaria polymorpha does not run at the root but it’s still a beast, a beautiful one
The dreamy phase of contemplating a future garden has had a hard stop this third summer, where harsh judgments must be meted out — which plant is the more valuable and which needs to move elsewhere. Even after three years some plants are still getting settled, while others have doubled or tripled their footprint (Sucissella inflexa, a pale knautia-like bobblehead, I’m looking at you!). It’s engrossing and fascinating to watch the maturation process, but admittedly unnerving to be flung out of the design department and moved to a management position. I have nothing but respect for the 10 full-time gardeners managing the hard work of maintaining the High Line’s complex plantings.
astilbe has been one of those slow to establish
Euphorbia griffithii will want more ground, but I’m willing to work with it
What’s really centered me again and reinvoked that dreamy, expectant state of mind is starting lots of annuals and biennials from seed. Many of the annuals like cosmos, castor bean and amaranthus are getting popped into newly vacant soil as permanent plants are thinned. I’m more than willing to perform the daily triage an overplanted garden requires, but I’m a born nurturer and love the caretaking of young plants. I need to take care of plant babies!
And my preference for big bodacious plants only exacerbates the challenges of managing a quickly maturing garden. For now, I wouldn’t want to part with any of them. The big shapes that dominate the border closest to the back fence include, left to right, a 5×5 Euphorbia stygiana, Persicaria polymorpha (both not pictured), Sanguisorba ‘Red Thunder,’ and Selinum wallichianum, center in above photo. Its ferny leaves are great cut — discovered after trying to relieve some pressure and congestion off nearby plants. Huge umbels in late summer. The Silver Spike grass, Achnatherum calamagrostis, has started to bloom, and the garden finally feels like summer because of it. Deschampsia started to bloom this week too. Most of the miscanthus have been moved to the front garden, as has Festuca ‘Glowsticks.’
for now new purchases are limited to small stature stuff like clove-scented Dianthus ‘Key Lime Pie’
doesn’t get any easier than a bowl of semps
Digitalis parviflora — right at its feet two Kniphofia pauciflora were dug up and relocated to the front garden. A great little kniphofia that deserves the best home possible
Solanum laxum, Iris ‘Gerald Darby’ — not all of the garden is threatened by imbalance. Some things are just right. Malva ‘Zebrinus’ and Darmera peltata in the stock tank
Zebrina Mallow in the stock tank with Corokia ‘Sunsplash’
For those who’ve been having trouble commenting, deep apologies. Again, management is not my favorite task, and that applies to the blog as well, which barely limps along. Thank you for your patience! Enjoy the long holiday weekend — temps in the 90sF expected here for Friday…
Oregon Sunshine, Eriophyllum lanatum, lights up June
Even without much heat, it feels as though we’ve reached that turning point when spring finally retreats and summer growth gains the upper hand, if only by virtue of sheer day length. It’s light out til 9:30 p.m. now!
short path looking toward the fence. Gabion with oyster shells is a great critter habitat…especially for snails!
corgi-sized access paths are shrinking under summer growth. ‘Silver Swan’ euphorbia against the fence was wind-pruned recently, all blooming branches splaying out were cut back
anisodontea stumps just visible near the post
In a couple instances the garden has reversed course and thinned somewhat, a case of wind pruning. We’ve had some recent sessions of ferocious wind, the latest yesterday afternoon. Incredibly, most plants can take the beating, but there’s been lots of pruning and some removal. On a previous occasion a week or so ago, the anisodontea planted behind the stock tank was completely knocked to the ground (patio). Initially planted in the stock tank, a root migrated out, so the original plant was removed from the stock tank, with the opportunistic root left to flourish, and did it ever! It’s been a remarkable plant capable of blooming all year, even withstanding ice storms! Even though it blocked my view of the garden from the patio, I left it alone. When the wind did the job for me, it was a relief. Besides having a full view of the garden from the patio restored, the beschorneria and other stock tank plants are much better for it.
Anisodontea cutting near the fence, where it won’t block the view!
nice to see old friends again like the variegated figword Scrophularia aquatica
Argentina lineata is back, but with a new name. I bought it as Potentilla lineata
new to the garden, planted August 2023, Penstemon ‘Dark Towers’ is approx 4 feet, self-supporting in some heavy wind, and unbothered by slugs. Without even seeing it in flower, it’s earned its keep
June expands!
Gillenia trifoliata is effortlessly beautiful and fresh — aka bowman’s root. There’s a story there somewhere with that common name that I’ve yet to learn.
Digtialis ‘Illumination’ something or other (a cross with digitalis and Canary Islander isoplexis) — very sturdy but severe wind did knock a couple stalks down that were saved for a vase
like the Illumination digitalis, this aster is another plant “engineered” to bloom longer. ‘Dainty Swan’ didn’t bloom til mid-July last summer, but as the plant makes size it seems capable of blooming earlier, “as advertised”
The sweet williams are as good as alliums for height and rich color
lots of alliums have been planted too
pale bloom of Allium karataviense on a very short stalk rising out of leaves as impressive as the flower
‘Guinea Gold’ was in bloom June 15, 2023, too, so its timing is consistent
Alstroemeria ‘Third Harmonic’ took a while to settle in but seems on its way now — orange and burgundy seem to be a theme with me lol
Phytollaca ‘Silberstein’ seems poised for a good summer of growth too. Very slow to establish, and the slugs are all over new growth
Eryngium ‘Big Blue’ did great the first year, dwindled the second year, and after being moved out of the border and into the gravel, with more light and better air flow, it seems to be back on track
In the front garden Cistus ‘Jenkyn Place’ basks in sun all day with extra heat radiating off the sidewalk causing that unique resiny scent’s release. There should be a cistus-scented candle.
The cosmos and zinnias I sowed in April are finally making good size. Not much top growth yet but root growth is strong. I sowed a ridiculous amount and nurtured every single seed that germinated — good thing too, because the slugs and snails demand their tribute, and the attrition has been significant.
with growth this slow, pinching back to encourage branching is psychologically very hard to do…you gotta do it anyway and have faith summer sun is coming!
The cosmos will be grown in pots because there isn’t any bare sunny ground available in the garden, and dozens of plants have been donated to a community garden. I’ve never had to watch frost dates when sowing seeds before, so this has been a very engrossing endeavor, just trying to raise some simple summer annuals. Hopefully, there will be more photos to come…
Centaurea ragusina and Salvia ‘Savannah Blue’ by Native Sons — in my experience, ultimate size is at least double suggested on their website
Domino’s garden in Los Angeles is slowly taking shape, with everyone pitching in to keep it weeded, mulched, and watered while new plants settle in. (We have availed ourselves of mulch from Griffith Park’s generous compost facility, carload after carload, even despite the numerous tree seedlings it includes. Can’t argue with free.)
A couple plants I gambled on have really impressed me. Salvia ‘Savannah Blue’ seemed full of promise in my Long Beach garden but didn’t really get a fair trial, squeezed in among agaves and succulents which it quickly overran. The soil had been serially enriched over the years with compost, and I suspect life might have been a little too easy for this South African hybrid salvia. In Domino’s garden the soil is simply awful, unamended clay, only approachable for planting after a rain, and mercifully there was lots of that last winter to get the garden started. Already I can see the salvia growing much more densely. Reputedly hardy to zone 8, I did try this salvia in Oregon, but fall planting was not a success. It melted away in the rainy winter. But its overall vigor would suggest a spring planting might be successful, if only as a summer annual or protected in a container, and I’m hoping a couple cuttings root to allow for some more experimentation on the rainy Oregon coast.
In Domino’s garden, luxuriating in full sun but somewhat constrained by unamended soil, I feel that this is a fairer trial than I could give this salvia in my crowded Long Beach garden. Finely cut, leathery, scented pelargonium-like leaves, small violet-blue flowers on slim tapers, it’s really shown what it can do here. Healthy, weed-smothering growth. I anticipate this will need a cutback like, say, Salvia leucantha in late winter/spring. It really is unlike any other salvia I’ve grown, with a remarkably good leaf tailor made for a hot dry garden. Along with its small shrubby habit, it strikes me as very worthy of attention, and I’m excited to track how it performs in Domino’s new garden.
But what’s that silver plant? My thoughts exactly when I found it unlabeled at a local nursery. Lacy like the typical dusty miller but with very thick, succulent-like leaves. The subsequent yellow thistle flowers indicate Centaurea ragusina, the Silver Knapweed, endemic to Croatia. Possibly hardy to zone 7, I grabbed a cutting to try in the Oregon garden — in a well-drained container, of course. It’s been around a while, described by Linnaeus in 1753 and mentioned as worthy by William Robinson in the late 1800s, but it seems to have been superseded in the trade by other centaureas/dusty millers. So far it’s kept a compact profile, not a sprawler. A couple friends have grown it and have only nice things to say about this centaurea, apart from it being hard to find.
Personally, I’m a fan of the lemony yellow thistle flowers, in bud or bloom, but do realize that some may prefer to cut them off to showcase its form and leaves — but then you’d be left with a Victorian bedding plant, right? That’s so 19th century…
I do think if you get the chance, that either of these are worth trialing for a zone 8-10 garden on the dry and sunny side. (The centaurea is hardier than the salvia, down to 0° F.)
My one-year-old granddaughter Domino is already a seasoned traveler. She obtained a passport not long after birth and had it stamped for Tunisia by three months. Her parents are committed vagabonds, so her budding wanderlust is no surprise. Recently Domino visited Poipu, Kauai, where her mama introduced her to her own beloved childhood vacation destination in a quiet agricultural region that was the site of the first major Hawaiian sugar plantation in 1835.
At this former sugar plantation, where Domino’s papa Mitch says the “shutters and louvre doors are all still teak and smell of deep tropical wood oil,” a 35-acre botanical garden envelops the vacation bungalows. Created by Alexandra Moir in the 1930s, when the sugar plantation her husband managed was still thriving before the decline of the industry in the 1990s, the garden surprises visitors by featuring not lush tropical plants but cacti and succulents. Say what? Yes, it’s true, there are dry microclimates in the Hawaiian Islands, and Alexandra wisely recognized that the usual tropical palette of plants would not thrive in Poipu, which averages 28″ of rainfall annually (USDA zone 11). This private garden was opened to the public in 1954.
Mitch says “There are easier warmer beaches to visit, and more modern resorts with more plentiful staff. But the time travel of vintage teak and old-Hawaiian lawns tugging at the roots of 60-foot monkeypod trees is harder and harder to find.”
There is very little information on the making of this garden, though in its heyday in the ’30s and ’40s it was considered one of the ten best succulent gardens in the world. I found a brief mention of Alexandra’s brother-in-law bringing plants back from travels abroad but no other details on the making of the garden. You’ll have to enjoy the photos narration-free. And if you’re ever in Kauai, you now have a succulent garden destination. Admission is free. Aloes, agaves, cactus, euphorbias, all the usual succulent garden suspects in an otherworldy setting among lava rock, bromeliads, and willwill trees (Erythrina sandwicensis).
Moir Garden aka Pa’u a Laka, or “skirt of laka,” named after the Hawaiian goddess of hula
slow and tricky from seed, I grabbed a few locally grown plants to see how they perform here
I get it, most local people I talk to are ready for sunnier days. This day has flushed sunny, rainy, and sunny again several times, all before noon. The 90″ of rain that makes this temperate rain forest possible, a treasure that is the largest of its kind in the world, generally is hard on people and industry — but easy on plants. Some plants. It is a huge pleasure to watch suitable plants exult in this unique climate, like subpolar Papaver nudicale. Common Iceland poppies, not an easy thing to grow in SoCal unless you get the narrow winter/spring timing just right, are easy to make happy here, and to my eye are as glorious as any meconopsis.
more rainy poppy porn
Of course, there are many plants that are tricky if not impossible to make happy with a cool, wet spring and shortish summer growing season. (I’m taking a big chance on zinnias from seed this year.) Tomato plants are filling the big box store shelves, and the lust for attaining a home crop is palpable as shoppers intently peruse varieties among the aisles — that’s an iffy proposition depending on the variety chosen and your microclimate, but to me that’s what the local farmers’ markets are for.
a young Acacia pravissima made it through a tough winter without damage
And trial-and-error experiments in planting can result in some beautiful, if potentially short-term winners depending on what winter has up its sleeve any given year. Both Acacia pravissima and Acacia cultriformis made it through this last tough winter. I brought borderline A. cultriformis up north from Los Angeles. Acacia pravissima was bought local and is generally accepted to be one of the hardiest acacias for coastal PNW. If trialing plants is your thing, a wet zone 8-9 affords lots of opportunities. (The War Boy Nux in Fury Road sums up a spirited attitude that can be adapted to making gardens here…or anywhere for that matter: “I live, I die, I live again!“)
dwarf version of Brachyglottis greyi
While I love trialing plants that enjoy the wet conditions, plants that prefer the dry side are my weakness (old habits die hard), and many are surprising me by flourishing — the dry, rainless summer improves the odds, but still it’s incredible to think of the amount of water these plants are enduring in winter.
Phlomis x margaritae — I worried phlomis would hate all this rain but so far they’re thriving
same concerns with Marrubium incanum, which reputedly prefers dryish gardens
With grey leaves but seemingly tolerant of a wet winter, Oregon Sunshine, Eriophyllum lanatum, is vigorous but not scarily so, unlike infiltrators Euphorbia cyparissias and hesperantha
so exciting to find formerly single-rosette plants doubling or even tripling in size in spring, like this Eryngium agavifolium
The garden seems to be filling in much faster than previous Mays, as plants like melianthus establish bigger root systems. No-shows this May include veronicastrum, which is a disappointment, but I have some dark castor bean seedlings that need a spot.
less grassy?
I’ve always been pro-bunch grasses and initially packed the garden with seslerias, miscanthus, deschampsia, anemanthele, calamagrostis among many kinds — and as other plants filled in, many of the grasses have since been thinned or moved to the front garden. The overly vigorous Kaffir Lily was moved out of the back garden entirely and left to settle scores with Spanish bluebells in a narrow strip against the front fence. There’s been lots of plant shuffling going on since February.
I assumed the Sicilian Honey Garlic would be weedy, but that’s not the case at all, disappointedly so — just two clumps bloomed this spring.
lunaria seedpods already forming
Selinum wallichianum settling in and loving life
as is the figwort Scrophularia aquatica ‘Variegata’
Kniphofia pauciflora has been reliably returning in May
Digitalis parviflora
Clumps of Digitalis parviflora increased in size while Digitalis ferruginea diminished. However…Digitalis ferruginea seems to be a prolific reseeder. I’ve potted up what I’m assuming are its progeny found at the base of clumps and weeded out lots more. Identifying reseeders here has been a learning curve. In my zone 10 garden the cast of reseeders became easily identifiable over 30 years, but here it’s still a guessing game.
thick clutches of dierama seedlings had to be weeded from this end of the garden
One of the biggest surprises as far as reseeders has been dierama. A plant that once seemed unattainable and ungrowable reseeds here as thick as grass. And its identity is not in doubt, since I collected seeds and sowed them in a tray — with excellent germination results. I needn’t have bothered with collecting seeds in fall with the garden full of seedlings this spring. It still feels a little strange to weed them out…
The mother clump of dierama to the right of the box above has already had to be thinned drastically off neighboring plants, so one fast-growing clump is more than enough, and I’ve already got three. In particular, I won’t be sacrificing things like Olearia x mollis ‘Zennorensis’ in the foreground to the expansionary designs of dierama! Nice problem to have, though…
