Eryngium x zabelii ‘Big Blue’ putting out some very marbled, spiny growth
In this notoriously rainy slice of the Oregon coast, 2022 rainfall has exceeded all expectations and delivered above average inches fall, winter, and spring. And how! And like a starving person led to a banquet, I’m probably the only one in town who isn’t bored, irritated, or disgusted with it yet. But coming from the land of mega-droughts, rain to me is still a miracle, a resounding Yes! from the universe. I haven’t yet tired of the sound of it, whether it drums softly or blows in hard and slanted, whether it comes in dollops of big drops or a fine mist. July is forecast to be dry, so I admit I’m savoring these last few days of rain. And weirder still, at the same time, I miss my dry garden plants and SoCal garden. But on some primal survival level, an abundance of water just feels so reassuring, so…life-affirming. If entertaining two diametrically opposed opinions indicates intelligence, what do two diametrically opposed emotions indicate, (other than paralyzing ambivalence?)
my first garden encounter with Sicilian Honey Garlic Nectaroscordum siculum
But near-constant rain and cool temperatures do not encourage growth in a young garden. I am told there will be a tremendous surge when the rain abates and the soil has a chance to dry out and warm. Yet even with the delay in growth, already I have experienced new horticultural wonders like the Sicilian Honey Garlic. And, damn, it’s a beauty!
And like I’ve said before, the geums are invaluable for filling out and blooming early even in a cool, wet spring, when so many other plants are waiting for more warmth. Because it’s such a great plant, you’d think ‘Totally Tangerine’ is in danger of becoming as ubiquitous as Geranium ‘Rozanne.’ — not that I’ve seen it much local.
osteospermum — what a surprise to find that this overwinters here. Big patches are in bloom in spring
A dormant salvage habit I brought with me north has been re-awakened now that I found a welder in town willing to sell me some scraps. Simple daisies seemed appropriate for a pipe lettered with the words “Viet Nam.”
The bottomless trough was a steal at $5. Without really planning to, I’ve started to plant around the stock tanks into the rocks. I’ve noticed the rocks act as a sun trap, as does the reflected light off the stock tanks.
Crambe maritima was a shoo-in candidate for the new garden
Textural study Bigelowia nutalli in the foreground, Eryngium ‘Charleston Blues’ behind. I’ve indulged a long-simmering eryngium habit here
And the shadier, patio side of the stock tanks are getting planted up too, here with Cyrtomium falcatum, the Japanese Holly Fern
And another moisture lover, Filipendula ‘Red Parasols.’
Everything in the stock tanks is growing really well. A plant that made the move north, Metapanax delavayi, is showing new growth — so glad it survived! From the Guizho and Yunnan provinces of China, the climate here is much more to its liking than Southern California
Arctostaphylos ‘Sunset’ is thriving in a stock tank. I’m not sure about planting arctos in the ground here yet. A berm is probably the right idea, and I’m thinking of going in that direction with the front garden, which will have woodier plants. Omphalodes llinifolia was a seedling from the Long Beach garden.
Euphorbia ‘Dean’s Hybrid’
Oregon Sunshine Eriophyllum lanatum has silvery, artemisia-like leaves
Senecio candidans
There’s a strong possibility this very finicky senecio may find conditions suitable on the Oregon coast. Silver leaves almost always denote a need for hot, dry conditions — except when they don’t, like in this senecio’s case, coming as it does from the cool environs of the Falkland Islands.
Intermittent photo contributor MB Maher is off to Turkey — some of us make it a habit to travel frequently; for others (raises hand), it’s a rare event. With the PNW continuing to unspool cool, rainy days in May, all of a sudden, it doesn’t seem quite so untimely to plan a little getaway. Most of my life has been spent in dry, sunny SoCal, so similar conditions aren’t what first come to mind when contemplating the perfect getaway. But it all depends on context, doesn’t it, and how cold or warm you’ve felt day after day, or how claustrophobic or crowded, how lonely or windswept. When we first saved up a bit to travel, it was walkable cities I wanted to explore, the contextual point of departure being, well…Los Angeles! And if it rained on our rambles, no problem — off season was always cheaper, the streets evocatively empty. But I completely understand the allure of a warm beach (even if they give me the fidgets after a few hours), and these photos of a trip by Mitch last December to Baja California, the town of Todos Santos, might be just what you’re looking for. I seriously doubt the beaches and bars would be this empty now, though — in the family tradition, he visited in the off season, when the staff-to-guest ratio was almost comically luxurious…
Some quick research on Istanbul gardens brings up images of mostly European/Moorish formality. If you know of anything interesting, drop me a note and we’ll see if we can’t direct Mitch in that direction. Meanwhile, for my perfect getaway, I’m researching Lisbon, Portugal…
I flew back with a six-pack of lewisia — what is this plant even doing for sale in SoCal nurseries!?
Thanks for the comments regarding successfully flying commercially with plants. I do feel even more emboldened!
coastal Oregon garden late April — experience of color and form is so situational and context-driven. In Southern California in March, the shape and color of tulips is a superfluous novelty. After a winter in coastal Oregon, where they thrive, they are a revelation.
With my two little gardens, one in frost-free zone 10 and the other in zone 8b, I feel like I’m tumbling in and out of a multiverse of gardens. This was the scene in the Tillamook garden when I left for a brief trip to Southern California in late April. I’ve since cut the few remaining tulips for vases and cleared most of these pots out. This spring in the PNW is generally acknowledged as unusually cold and wet and is increasingly getting on everyone’s nerves. (Whereas, I will admit that when a couple days go by without rain, I get a little anxious, scarred by drought that I am!)
For the moment I’m indulging in plants that like moisuture, like this Potentilla lineata from Far Reaches Farms
I brought some sonchus seedlings north to play with as foliage plants for summer. Sinopanax formosanus on the left is also from Far Reaches Farms.
Forecasts for May show an increasing amount of dry days at widening intervals until June, when the rain mostly disappears for summer. Growth in the new garden is painfully slow, but little nubbins of green are starting to break ground. Locals say everything rushes into growth after Mother’s Day — and there was a noticeable uptick and surge. The splashiest plants so far for late April are geum and Euphorbia characias wulfenii — and I wished I’d planted more of the euphorbia. But there’s a chance they won’t age gracefully into summer here so some restraint is initially called for. (Cutting down the flowering stems when they’re finished will allow the new basal growth to develop and hopefully last through next winter.) Around town rhodies are in full bloom, with peonies and lilacs just getting started. Japanese maples seem to emerge fully leafed out nearly overnight.
Geum ‘Totally Tangerine’ was moved from the zone 10 garden, where it expanded in size but never bloomed, so this is my first look at its citrusy flowers. that float in profusion on slim elegant stems. Cool-season grasses like deschampsia and Euphorbia characias would be good companions.
This watching and waiting and longing for growth is kind of deliciously excruciating — since for me it’s still such a novel experience. My sympathies to the veterans! Understandably, since zone 8 can swing warmer or colder from year to year, experimentation with hardiness is irresistible. It’s a very emotional zone for hard-core gardeners, filled with drama-driven narratives of weather vagaries that don’t exist for zone 10 gardens, where the basic question of rain and the interminable lack of it relentlessly overrides and governs all other concerns.
Los Angeles garden late April. In the left foreground, Sedum dendroideum, grown very lanky in a pot, seemed like unsightly evidence of neglect, all stems with a fritz of rosette at the tips — until I planted it in the garden last fall when I was thinning out potted plants for the caretaker’s benefit. Now I recognize the investment in years it took to make such a freaky 4-foot specimen. I wasn’t sure it would be self-supporting in the garden, but it is, and I love the height it lends.
Conversely, and no surprise, the frost-free Long Beach garden needed some severe discipline. A few plants like anisodontea, sonchus, and salvia needed to be cut back off their neighbors, but the bulk of the work was weeding out seedlings from the dry-laid bricks.
When home I do this absent-mindedly all the time. When allowed to accumulate over a couple months, it’s a real time sink — just me and a butter knife prying out nicotiana, Verbena bonariensis, argemone, sideritis, linaria…
A new addition to the vigorous self-sowing contingent, Silene fabaria ssp. domokina has left dozens of plants after its first year in the garden. I have to borrow Stellata Plants description of “a poor man’s Bukiniczia cabulica” because it perfectly describes this little charmer. The half dozen plants I’m trialing in the Oregon garden look slightly miserable, and if they survive they may behave like biennials with only leaf growth the first summer. It’s doubtful they’d survive the winter as true biennials to bloom the following year, but with this beauty, a summer of staring at these leaves is reward enough. In Long Beach they behave like annuals, flowering their first year from seed.
Salvia ‘Mesa Azure’ after it was trimmed
After staring at bare mulch and checking religiously for signs of life up north, the first hour of a return to the SoCal garden is extremely disorienting. What was I thinking? So many plants! But as I become reacquainted with the garden over a few days, I recognize the old patterns that overpacked the garden. In the coastal zone 10 climate, nothing deters a person inclined to stay outdoors and play with plants every day from doing just that. Restraint increasingly becomes an unfamiliar state of mind, and there can be…issues.
rusty-colored terrestrial bromeliad Orthophytum magalhaesii, lower left, is filling in nicely along the rock spur. A couple clumps of Stipa ichu self-sowed. Silvery Plectranthus argentatus deep in the back was showing water stress when I returned but bounced back after a deep soak. (I brought cuttings of this plectranthus up north, planted them out too early to dodge the April cold snap, but they are leafing out again so survived from the roots.) Also deep in the back but not shown, Trevesia palmata showed some burnt leaves from recent high temps in the 90s, which was really the only damage I could find.
Other than the sunburnt trevesia, everything else seemed to be thriving. I was especially relieved to find Calibanus ‘Lotusland’ gaining size and getting even more shapely as it matures. It is a cross between calibanus and beaucarnia sometimes called ‘Calicarnea’ and not easily replaced.
Euphorbia ‘Blue Wave’ is a little blowsier than I expected.
euphorbia, salvia and helichrysum
I would love to try some Berkheya purpurea in the northern garden. The kangaroo paw stems are gaining height with the blooms probably open by the time I write this (‘Tequila Sunrise’)
Leucospermum ‘Tango’ blooms still showing color. Marty especially asked if the new Euphorbia cotinifolia had leafed out yet, burgundy leaves, left background.
nice bunch of “pinecones” on the Pinecone Bromeliad, Acanthostachys strobilacea
Back in Tillamook, I spotted this beat-up shop stool in an abandoned greenhouse at the high school near where we walk Billie, and upon inquiring…ahem…was told I could have it. Billie is an inveterate plant chewer, so it’s a great solution to get small stuff beyond corgi height. Plus, it’s identical to the shop stools in the Long Beach garden….the multiverse collides!
from the Long Beach garden, clockwise, Agave lophantha ‘Quadricolor’ (Billie ate the other one), Mangave ‘Kaleidoscope,’ top right and bottom right. Seedling on bottom left is possibly from my flowering Pseudobombax ellipticum in Long Beach.
Mitch visited a couple weekends ago and took this photo of the daffs on our table. I indulged in armloads of them for the house when I chanced upon a grower a few miles south of Tillamook off highway 101. (I brake for fields of daffodils in bloom.) Multiple varieties in each bunch. The Porter Family runs the farm stand for their operation Farmer Creek Garden on the honor system, $2.50 in the mason jar per bunch.
Mitch went on a bit of a nostalgia tour during his brief visit. Netarts Bay is where it all started. We took the boys here for many August vacations as a break from the Los Angeles heat. Go figure, decades later, Duncan up and decides to move here.
Netarts Bay, Oregon
Interesting small businesses are hiding in plain sight — daffodils, dahlias…salt. Jacobsen’s Salt also makes excellent caramels — I just polished off a box.
First time in a theater since 2020! The little downtown is an easy walk from our house.
Billie and I showed Mitch one of our favorite walks
I made a quick trip to SoCal for doctor visits, squeezed in a little plant shopping, and now have some very important news to share: Yes, it is possible to fly with plants! The Internet says it is permissible but that TSA reactions may vary from airport to airport. I used a soft, mesh-sided pet carrier, so the plants were immediately visible to TSA at LAX. No tricks or subterfuge. I was prepared to abandon the plants if met with any resistance, but it was surprisingly treated as no big deal — noting the carrier, the agent said at least this puppy doesn’t bite! Once on board, the carrier slides under the seat in front of you, just as if you brought your cat with you (instead of plants). Supposedly plants in checked baggage are OK too. Game-changer! As the world continues to devolve in so many ways, mercifully there are still occasional small signs of progress. Like carry-on plants on planes.
We returned to Oregon March 18 and have since finished up removing the remaining sod in the backyard, an additional area approximately 8×20 feet, bounded again in landscape timbers. There is a small area of turf left on the east side of the house for Billie and picnics with Hannah. With the surge of spring grass growth, and being lawn neophytes, we were caught flat-footed and had to methodically ruminate on possible solutions (get it? ruminant, ruminate…hahaha — this is literally a cow town, after all). And it’s true, watching the neighbors tackle their lawns spurred us into action — keeping up with the Mooks, as the residents of Tillamooks call themselves. Ultimately we went with a battery-powered weed-whacker hybrid thingy on a wheeled chassis that works fine on the small amount of turf in the back and the handkerchief-sized portions in the front. Not a jot of work has been done yet to the front of the house, other than whacking the lawn back, and that may be true for some time…
The little video saves us a lot of words and vague descriptions about what is in reality a very small area. Nothing naturalistic about this layout — it mimics the pasture land surrounding the houses
It’s all very flat and vegetable gardenish. I won’t be planting much large woody stuff, trees and big shrubs. All growing surfaces have been mulched with local crushed bark, cheap and plentiful, and the back garden drains freely and is now mudproof. The weather is volatile, changeable, mercurial — one steps outside after a downpour into blinding shafts of sunlight. Planting has tentatively begun in the ground, though a couple of the stock tanks were planted in October. The rubber mulch used by former owners under playground equipment in one-fourth of the yard was ultimately bagged up and sent to the dump. Bags and bags of it. Marty handled this chore. My preference was to keep mostly everything on site, but a clean sweep seemed the best approach for materials made from used tires.
Andy Salter’s garden, Kent, England, photo by Claire Takacs
This image by Claire Takacs of Andy Salter’s garden in Kent, England, gave me some much-needed courage. This is all I want, to be surrounded by a surge of growth in spring and summer. No need for year-round interest because we most likely won’t be here for much of the winter. But I’ll definitely be making a bigger bulb order this July/August.
I could go seriously mad for potted tulips here — in these cool temps they last forever in bloom. Potted plants are tucked under the eaves of the overhang which saved them from hail damge. So much hail!
Possibly Tulipa ‘Gavota,’ a Triumph tulip
Photo taken in my neighborhood; bulbs grow like crazy here — daffs, muscari, bluebells, to the point of weediness
I brought just a few of the hardier agaves from Long Beach, CA, A. weberi ‘Arizona Star,’ A. lophantha ‘Quadricolor,’ and A. bracteosa ‘Monterrey Frost,’ and tucked them under the eaves, just a few inches out of the rain but still braving the cold, and so far they’ve been fine.
Slightly dodgier odds with Echeveria agavoides — I have tons in Long Beach so was willing to sacrifice a few in a hardiness experiment. They’re also tucked under the eaves of the pergola, coloring up in the cold temps into the 30s but not mushing out, so far.
All the eucomis were brought north from the SoCall garden — the bulbs grow well and thicken down south, but I’m guessing flowers will be much better in the north
This stock tank was planted with the Stachyurus salicifolius from Dancing Oaks in autumn, and the rest of the plants came from the Long Beach garden and nurseries a few months later. Carexes ‘Everillo’ and ‘Feather Falls,’ Corydalis flexuosa ‘Porcelain Blue,’ Dreamland series of armeria, and a runner of Anisodontea ‘Strybing Beauty’ which despite being zoned warmer has had no problem with the snow and hail so far
This stock tank was also planted in autumn, with golden cottonwood, Cassinia fulvida, which I think might be adding extra protection for Euphorbia stygiana. The diascias were found local and planted in the last week, and it was touch-and-go as to whether they’d survive the recent snow event.. The historically anomalous April snow event was not accompanied by low temperatures, which I suspect saved many of the plants
Aloe boylei was brought up from Long Beach and has the “widest leaves of the grass aloes,” hardy to zone 7b
The third stock tank was planted when we returned in March. Brought from the Long Beach garden was this Libertia chilensis, an abutilon, Salvia ‘Amante,’ Verbena bonariensis seedlings, and Metapanax delavayi. Golden deschampsia came via mail order from High Country Gardens
Lots of plants came up from the Long Beach garden, but there are a few mail orders still awaiting delivery and a bit of local shopping. I managed a trip to Hortlandia in early April and had so much fun debating what plants to buy that the camera never left its pouch.
Olearia x mollis ‘Zennorensis’ from Cistus
Senecio munroi also from Cistus
Foreground Bupleurum fruticosum, the Shrubby Hare’s Ear, was brought from the Long Beach garden
Damp-loving Iris ‘Gerald Darby’ from Secret Garden Growers. I first heard of this purply-leaved iris through Nan Ondra at Hayefield. It’s planted under the pergola downspout — I hope it likes lots of water!
Scrophularia aquatica ‘Variegata’ from Secret Garden Growers, I think
Foreground Angelica stricta ‘Purpurea’ from the Long Beach garden, golden saxifrage from Cistus, Lomandra ‘Lucky Stripe’ from Long Beach garden, planted in October
Euphorbia characias subsp. wulfenii and Phlomis anatolica ‘Lloyd’s Variety’ planted in October
I did visit a nearby independent nursery, Monkey Business 101, that centers its business around growing Monkey Puzzle Trees, Auricaria auracana. There is a large Monkey Puzzle Tree in my neighborhood, and I’ve since found out that Portland has more of these trees outside of its native Chile than anywhere else. Apparently, John Muir was a huge fan and traveled to Chile to see native stands of this relic of the ages, Chile’s national tree. The cool and rainy coastal conditions are apparently to its liking — makes me want to further explore Chilean plant lists!
Monkey Puzzle Tree loving life at Monkey Business 101
Unnamed hosta from Monkey Business 101, which had a fine general selection of plants at great prices. And I had to grow a hosta, right?
Rhododendrons are bursting into bloom around Tillamook
Bulbs and rhodies are coloring up the neighborhood, and the recent snow event hasn’t seemed to slow them down. We are very much strangers in a strange land, but working out how to make a garden seems to me to be a great way to get acquainted. More soon, AGO.
To save some repetitive photos, the aloes are mostly over, the grevilleas, passiflora, and anisodontea continue, and now these shaggy brutes are making their blooming appearance this week, the tree dandelions, Sonchus palmensis. This is a plant with a big presence when its chrome yellow discs flare into bloom like a klieg light.
I forget the age of this mother plant of all the seedlings scattered throughout the garden. Over 6 feet tall, it needed staking even before the three flower heads began to bloom.
Tree dandelions in the distance, coronilla in the foreground. Pink flowers from long-blooming Anisodontea ‘Strybing Beauty’
Salvia ‘Savannah Blue’ was clipped hard, so is dense and bushy and just about to bloom, and there’s three of them massed around that brown jar. I’ll miss seeing that but am trying a few cuttings up north. Teucrium betonicum and Geranium maderense ‘Alba’ will be in bloom next week (edited to add photo from 3/17 at end of post.) There’s no telling if the Giant Fennel will bloom this year, or ever, but it’s pushing out a wedding dress’ worth of lacy leaves. The kangaroo paws will be up late April/May.
leaning over the emerging ferny leaves of the giant fennel, Ferula communis ‘Gigantea’
And the Salvia greggii hybrids are spilling more and more flowers. ‘Mesa Azure’ has a particularly uniform habit of growth, hardy to zone 7.
Salvia x jamensis ‘Nachtvlinder’ has exceptional depth of coloring and velvety petals, but its habit slightly sprawls despite regular clipping and cutbacks. Could be the crowded conditions at fault, not the plant.
Erodium ‘Maryla,’ planted spring 2021 from Robin Parer’s nursery Geraniaceae
tiny flowers and purple-speckled leaves of Tinantia pringlei, a ferocious spring reseeder from Mexico that dies off in summer if kept too dry
Gerberas flower so strongly here in zone 10 with just a little attentive irrigation. The Garvinea series is hardy to zone 7
Another plant purchased locally for the Oregon garden, that I ended up planting here in Long Beach, Halimium x pauanum would struggle in the rich, moist soil up north. It has better odds with the hot, dry SoCal garden.
Leucospermum ‘Tango’
Soft yellow flowers of Brassica cretica, ssp. aegaea, seed from Liberto Dario — hoping it self-sows around. I have a feeling it will be very obliging on that score. I’ve got two flats of different seedlings to bring up north, including Silene fabaria, Verbena bonariensis, coronilla, Centranthus lecoquii, sideritis, orlaya, erodium, carex, Omphalodes linifolia, etc
Alstroemeria ‘Indian Summer’ backed by elongating blooms of Heuchera maxima
(edited to add Geranium maderense ‘Alba’ opening flowers 3/17/22)
And for some unknown but very irritating reason, I can’t get the link to work to May Dreams Gardens, Carol J. Michel’s host site for all Bloomday reports.
edited to add photo of Long Beach house, photo by MB Maher — we always miss this old creaky boat of a house!
We’re heading back up north the end of this week with a car full of stuff I’ve dug up from the Long Beach garden, the dog, the cat — what a caravan! I hope you find good things to read and see and keep you busy. More soon. Affectionately, AGO
Another atmospheric river is hitting the Oregon coast, but here in coastal Long Beach we’re climbing into the 80’sF. The plants that bloom off and on throughout the winter, like Passiflora vitifolia, know what to do with that warmth. I was trimming back straggly growth on this vine, which sounds fairly straighforward. But vines are tricky and complicated, and it can be difficult to trace what’s actually being cut. One misplaced snip, and before you know it yards of healthy vine have been severed. If this passiflora were a dainty thing, I’d be more angry with myself. But seeing as I’ve already had to cut an exploratory shoot out of the acacia tree quite a distance away, getting heavy handed with the pruners is not much cause for remorse.
Solitary flower of non-clumping Aloe conifera
flowers opening on Aloe marlothii
I’ve been simplifying and streamlining the Long Beach garden, resolving not to add any more plants or containers. And that’s holding true with some minor exceptions, like that enormous pot of Lomandra ‘Lucky Stripe’ on the far right. It was a discounted plant I intended to bring back to the Oregon garden to pair with the one already planted there, but changed my mind when I saw how it transformed this area. (If you’re game for more info on the subject than seems reasonable, possible or necessary, it’s provided at the end of this post.)
I’ve planted countless Lophomyrtus x ralphii here in Long Beach and none of them have “stuck.” Maybe a little too dry, a little too crowded. I grabbed a couple ‘Red Dragon’ to trial in the Oregon zone 8b garden, where they’re very borderline (to 20F), but lost my nerve at the prospect of potentially sacrificing both of these gorgeous New Zealander shrubs, and split the difference by keeping one in Long Beach. And that’s the last of any new planting in Long Beach, I swear!
Monocarpic Agave vilmoriniana ‘Stained Glass’ is making plans to leave this earth, sending forth an end-of-the-line bloom stalk which will hopefully become studded with lots of bulbils for new plants. I’m not expecting most of them to be variegated but hoping for just a few with this coloring…
In determining what Long Beach plants might potentially be candidates for the Oregon garden, I’ve run into the limits of memory — which astelia is this? A handy search of this blog tells me it’s Astelia banksii (20-25F). A small piece of it is being rooted for a northern trial, possibly container only so it can be protected in winter.
In the front garden, Agave titanota ‘Lanky Wanky’ continues its spotless performance
Also in the front garden, the trunk of the triangle palm is being colonized by a fatshedera. If I used netting or some other support it would have better odds of hanging on in heavy wind. For now I’m letting the fatshedera figure it out on its own.
buttery new growth of Fatsia ‘Spider Web’
new developments on the mystery euphorbia
“flowers” forming on mystery euphorbia
Coronilla valentina ssp. glauca — I’m going to trial a seedling of this in the Oregon garden
and the ongoing reshuffling of pots continues — presumably this is a form of Agave americana labeled ‘Northern Lights’ that wants neither full sun nor too much shade
I love all stages of Leucospermum ‘Tango’ in bloom
As promised, more reading on the pot of Lomandra ‘Lucky Stripe,’ the long and short of it:
Seen on T-shirts and protest signs around the world, now multimedia artist Patrick Martinez has worked Greek poet Dinos Christianopoulos’ words to electrifying effect in neon (which comes from the Greek word for “new”). A sign of and for the times, right?
One of the so-called “toothbrush” grevilleas, I planted ‘Poorinda Blondie’ in November 2020, and its wingspan is now just over 6 feet. Height is roughly 4 feet, approximating a V-shape. (I can’t remember if I bought it in a gallon or 3-gallon.). It’s a big boy, reputed to attain a height of 12 feet but is amenable to pruning.
‘Poorinda Blondie’ with flowers loaded on one side, hence the moniker “toothbrush” grevillea
PB is a seedling of ‘Red Hooks,’ a grevillea I became familiar with at the Manhattan Beach nursery Deep Roots, which has a lovely, tree-like specimen of same. Deep Roots carries a good selection of Australian plants and is most likely where I found this ‘Poorinda Blondie,’ an oldish selection dating back to the 1970s and 1980s. Flowers fully opened this week and are heaviest in winter/spring but do occur year-round (see June report here). PB may prove to be less floriferous than the year-round abundance of my ‘Moonlight’ (which just got a firm pruning), but the graphic, serrated leaves won me over.
full, bottlebrush-like flowers of Grevillea ‘Moonlight’
And though I didn’t know it at the time of purchase, PB is intriguingly hardier than ‘Moonlight,’ reputedly into the mid teens, which almost makes it a candidate for the zone 8b garden, whereas ‘Moonlight’ is pegged at mid 20s. (Of course, one has to take into account the torrential rain in my zone 8b garden as well as cold tolerance.)
ferny leaves of Grevillea ‘King’s Fire’
‘Moonlight’ is a cross between G. whiteana and G. banksii and has the ferny leaves typical of the previous grevilleas I’ve grown like ‘Robyn Gordon’ and ‘King’s Fire,’ so the saw-cut leaves of this “toothbrush” Grevillea ‘Poorinda Blondie’ are a first for me. Welcome to the garden! For dryish gardens in zones 9a-11
A familiar chore I don’t really mind is sweeping up the fringe tree’s leaves from the east patio and moving them to use for paths and mulch. Obviously, it’s much easier done on a daily, incremental basis instead of saving the job up for three months. But I’m actually relieved that no one had an itch to sweep and throw the leaves away.
We arrived last Friday, and other than sleeping, I don’t think a broom has left my hand since.
I missed a couple aloes in bloom like labworana, ‘David Verity’ and capitata var. quartziticola, but was just in time for ‘Moonglow’ on the left and ‘Tangerine’ on the right. A young Aloe lukeana is in the foreground left.
big surprise that my young Aloe marlothii is throwing a bloom truss too
the marigold-colored intensity of Aloe dawei ‘Jacob’s Ladder’ is always a treat in January/February, Towering in the background on the left is the mother Sonchus palmensis that’s been sowing her progeny throughout the garden, and in the far distance Grevillea ‘Moonlight’
The informal team of neighbors and friends who took turns watching over the garden since we left the second week of October did an amazing job. And all this handled by a group with little or no experience (or interest) in plants and gardens. I’m not sure how much deep watering was done, if any, but there was some good rain in January.
Leucadendron ‘Jester’ put on a nice flush of cones. Fernleaf acacia in bloom in background is both a lovely sight as well as the instigator for much of the far-flung debris in the back garden. (The grevillea is a competitor in the category for Most Debris from a Single Plant, and unfortunately under its branches is where most of the bromeliads are massed.) Pink flowers are from a first-year Anisodontea ‘Strybing Beauty,’ probably the best performance it’s had in my garden after several trials
There’s lots of sweeping and cutting back to do but no devastating plant losses. The succulent rosettes are filled with debris, as are the bromeliads, and the big-leaved plants like trevesia and tetrapanax are absolutely filthy. Miscanthus need cutting back, and the seslerias need cleaning and raking. The prolific but invaluable self-sowers need editing. The tillandsias could use a soak but are otherwise in good shape. The pitcher plants are one of the few outright losses — I left no instructions on using distilled water only. That kind of detailed instruction seemed a bridge too far to ask of volunteers. A young Brassaiopsis hispida and Metapanax delavayi were each marked with a tall stick for attentive watering, and that was about the extent of the instructions given. Both survived. I’m tempted to bring the metapanax back with me to the Tillamook zone 8b garden but am worried about not having a truly protected, wind-free site for it.
Leucadendron ‘Jester’
Anisodontea ‘Strybing Beauty’
Sonchus palmensis seedlings are lending a shaggy quality to the plantings, as is Geranium maderense just behind. The huge, post-flowering (dead) rosette of Alcantera odorata was removed, which was to the right of the Sonchus. No pups formed but I did save some seed. Agave ‘Snow Glow,’ self-sown Carex testacea and aeoniums
various species of kalanchoe mother of thousands are also flowering
Agave kerchovei is growing into quite a beauty and still has some growing to do — reputed to grow as wide as 4-5′
More agaves, helichrysum, and a striking rosette of. Berkheya purpurea
Berkheya purpurea
Sideritis syriaca is looking very handsome for January/February
Sideritis with westringias, Salvia ‘Savannah Blue’ and Billie
Looking east under the pergola. Euphorbia canariensis was moved where it will catch less debris
looking west under the pergola, bricks swept and cleaned
The trunks of the tetrapanax continue to be relied on for support by surrounding plants like Sedum ficoides and Clianthus puniceus — but especially the increasingly vigorous Passiflora vitifolia. Long arms of this vine snaked along the ground under the pergola and contributed to the decadent, overgrown, Grey Gardens ambience that greeted me upon returning Friday.
Sprawlers like the parrot’s beak Lotus berthelotii and cotula were pulled out by the armfuls so smaller succulents escape being smothered in the spring surge
After removing the parrot’s beak
Many of the potted succulents were bone dry, but winter is an easy time for them. I’m not sure they could stand this neglect in summer…
Now I’ve been absorbed in gently steering the garden from the state of one packed to the gills for maximal daily stimulation for a single audience (me) to one able to handle more casual observers and require less upkeep. A plan to sublet the house and garden for 30-day intervals is taking shape, preferably to the horticulturally inclined! Long Beach is well-situated for day trips to San Diego and Santa Barbara, with the Huntington and LA Arboretum close by as well as loads of nurseries.
And I’m also considering which plants to bring back north to the PNW, such as some of the zone 8-ish agaves. And what about moving some of the rhipsalis north and attempt to grow them indoors as houseplants? Or thin the herd with a small plant sale? Decisions, decisions. Much more soon!
