As the day flashed by, I got all kinds of grand ideas for what to write this week. But you know what? It’s my bedtime, and I just finished ordering plants and writing emails and plant lists, so whatever those ideas were – they will have to wait until another time. The news this week have been dreadful, and once again, shoveling gravel and thinking up pretty things proved more pleasant diversions than observing the world we continue to ravage.
I took last Sunday off, and it was wonderful. I caught up with family near and far, and spent some time outside, putzing around. What you’ll get today are some of my favorite surprises from out there. If nothing else, know this; plants just keep doing their thing, regardless of our human antics, and that, my friends, is a marvelous thing!
Popcorn or mini marshmallows? Poncirus trifoliata’s leaves are about to open, but I wish it would just stay like this. I love seeing them just like this from my kitchen sink.The Shredded Umbrella plant – Syneilesis palmatum is one of my absolute favorite spring treats. When they first emerge, they look like furry little mushrooms. Just adorable!Nestled with the ever-spreading and quite endearing Mouse plant (Arisarum proboscideum) the Chinese Mayapples (Podophyllum pleianthum) rise each spring, surrounded also by one of the most wonderful ferns of all Himalayan Maiden Hair Fern (Adiantum venustum).One of the things I did on Sunday was build a plinth for my bowl of Sarracenias, and give them a good cleaning. As I removed all the ratty foliage, I saw to my delight a number of flower buds. The effort of getting them closer to eye level is paying off already! To my dear husband’s chagrin, this corner (which is supposed to he “his” space) has become a catch-all for all my yet-to-be-planteds. Adding insult to injury, the garden is also full of scores of plants I’ve purchased for three different clients. Many of them will leave this coming weekend, and others the weekend after that. I started cleaning it up, but will have to finish later. For now, the Sarracenia bowl rises above the fray on its new pedestal, and the Appleblossom Clematis is stealing the show. Monstrously vigorous, i’s almost too much of a good thing. Have a kind and gentle week, y’all!
Happy February, Everyone! I noticed on my way to work this morning that it started getting light before I made it there. It made me ridiculously happy! There are longer, lighter, brighter days ahead, my friends! I was instantly filled with garden dreams – new projects I’m going to start, old un-finished projects I’m finally going to finish, new successes, and new failures.
Last year and beyond, my garden was my savior, my escape. It still is, but this year I’m promising myself that I’m going to BE in my garden for the sake of just BEING – not for the sake of escaping.
It feels like a great calm has settled over chaos in the last week, and although lies still run rampant, theatrics are abundant, and tensions are still high, it’s all somehow muted. I detect a new hum in the Universe, the wheels of a functioning government starting to slowly turn again. I’m looking forward to a time where all is not lost if I forget to think about the news for a day or two. Where it’s okay to relax a little. Battered and weary, we made it this far. I think we all deserve some peace, don’t you? The kind of peace one can enjoy under a lot less pressure.
Last summer, something odd happened. My big, beautiful Edgeworthia suddenly collapsed. Just like that. For a while, I simply let it be, made sure it got some water here and there – just to see if it would bounce back. For the most part, it didn’t, so one weekend not too long ago, I ventured out there and started cutting it back, starting with the most dead-looking branches. One by one, the shrub shrunk. I soon realized that I didn’t even really need to cut most of them – they just broke off at the base with minimal prompting. – it had rotted. So, I kept breaking them off, until there were only two big, still healthy branches left. They had nice, fat flower buds, so I let them be. Three are already blooming – something I noticed today of all days – on the day we got this winter’s first snow.
This photo is from September. Here you can see the collapse on full display – or should I say full splay? I have no idea what caused the collapse to happen, but heard that several others had the same thing happen to theirs, too. Probably some kind of environmental change it didn’t like, we were guessing, as none of us had made any real changes in treatment or care. It just up and died.
Anyway, until my rough treatment of its spready girth, this was a big shrub. In summer, its blue green, oval leaves made a perfect privacy screen for my hammock. Not having it there will no doubt make next summer’s lounging experience far less protected unless I fill that hole quick. But with what? I’m leaning toward moving my Shefflera delavayi into this spot. Or, I could put a Mahonia eurybracteata there. I have one in a pot I have been nursing along for a while. My only worry is that it might not get enough sun to be happy there. (It gets some filtered southern light, but is also shaded from above by a windmill palm.) Besides, the Shefflera is bigger, and would provide a more instant gratification.
Another available option is a Sarcococca orientalis – which may not sound all that exciting, but I like its skinny, pointed leaves. Plus, it’s not overly happy where it currently is, and it’s fragrant. I also have a somewhat suffering Kiringeshoma that might enjoy that spot. Except, it’s not evergreen. Moving an Abutilon or a Fuchsia into that spot is another deciduous option that might work too – except deciduous. Either sure would look fab spilling over the wall… As would a really, really big fern. Ferns look good anywhere. What would your choice be? A combo of some of the above? Or something completely different? I’m getting lost in all the fabulous potential…
I’m tired, and feeling just about as blurred as the bird in this photo, skillfully evading my every attempt at focusing my lens. January 20 is a big day – one that will hopefully emerge with clearly outlined purpose, high energy, and minimal blur. I’m hoping for contrast to what has transpired – rich, exuberant contrast.
Are you celebrating, or just cautiously optimistic? Or neither? Neighbors up and down our block will gather in the street after work, for a suitable beverage and some socially distant rejoicing, to ring in the long-awaited changing of the guards. Whether this bird will join us remains to be seen, but if it comes, I will regard it as a good omen. I think we’re all relieved. Four years are finally over , and it’s time for a new beginning. Don’t know about you, but we’re flipping the old, and welcoming the new.
As I logged on to write my weekly little ditty, WordPress pinged me with a celebratory message that I started blogging 10 years ago. Oh my! That sure went fast! Though not what I intended to write about today, I suppose it’s worth mentioning – as a personal bright spot in one of the most crazy-ass weeks I think the US has seen in its young life as a nation. I was sad and astounded at how prescient I turned out to be a week ago, when I wrote that the orcs were attacking from all angles. This week they actually did.
I spend as much time as I can outside in the garden these days. You all know why – you are all in on the well known secret of the palpable grounding qualities and benevolent, healing powers of immersing yourselves with plants in the garden. No matter if…
As I logged on to write my weekly little ditty, WordPress pinged me with a celebratory message that I started blogging 10 years ago. Oh my! That sure went fast! Though not what I intended to write about today, I suppose it’s worth mentioning – as a personal bright spot in one of the most crazy-ass weeks I think the US has seen in its young life as a nation. I was sad and astounded at how prescient I turned out to be a week ago, when I wrote that the orcs were attacking from all angles. This week they actually did.
I spend as much time as I can outside in the garden these days. You all know why – you are all in on the well known secret of the palpable grounding qualities and benevolent, healing powers of immersing yourselves with plants in the garden. No matter if it’s cold and wet, spending time out there STILL makes me feel better. As dusk fades to dark, the solar spots placed around the yard light up, and that was going to be my point tonight; there is light in the midst of darkness. Trust me, there really is.
Shefflera taiwanense basking in the light.
Since it’s an anniversary, I should probably acknowledge that blogging itself has been a major bright spot for me this past decade. On it, I have questioned, I have learned, and it has caused me to meet wonderful people – both in the blogosphere and in person. It has enriched my life greatly in ways I never imagined. Today, I saw in the WordPress notifications that someone had liked a post that was written almost to the day, a year ago. I was curious as to what the allure was, so I took a peek and re-read what I wrote back then. For all the shock, disgust, humbleness, and national embarrassment we have all been experiencing in the last few days, the truth is that – not counting a ravaging pandemic – we are in a far better place right now than we were back then. Look at us now – we did it! We voted a lot of these ogres out in the last election, and our friends in Georgia did what almost no one saw as even a possibility – they flipped the Senate! (Not to mention the several effective vaccines produced in record time.) Things are indeed looking up!
I wonder where I’ll be another 10 years from now… I hope I will still be writing – because even if it’s rarely very substantial, it’s still one of my favorite things to do. Like my garden, it keeps me sane. Stay hopeful, dear friends – the light is on its way. We’re going to have to dig in and work hard for it, but it will come. I can feel it!
Well, it’s finally 2021! How do you like it, so far? It’s Epiphany, and that means I can tick off another year here in the US. On January 6th, 1987 I moved here for the first time. (I took a 5-year break somewhere in the middle, so I’ve moved here twice.) Hard to believe that was 34 years ago…
Every year, I mark the day, but this year, the air is different. This year, there is a stirring of sorts – it feels as if people have somehow been through enough to have begun having their own epiphanies. They are starting to realize that what we have is worth the effort it will take to keep it. They are still counting votes in Georgia as I write this and, especially in one instance, it’s awfully close, but it feels like the gears are shifting, and it feels like hope. Amazing that it took this long, but hey – I’ll take it.
Screenshot from Merriam Webster Photo from the Peninsula Park Rose Garden, taken on a walk this past weekend.
It’s exhilarating to see wheels finally starting to turn, offering an actual possibility that they will take hold and engage. It is a long way back to the top. Hopefully the results of the Georgia runoffs will mean that we won’t have to linger so long on each step that the ideas and advances start to grow moss. (Even though you all know how much I love moss.) Thank you Georgia for turning out! Regardless of the outcome, it’s close enough to offer gobs of hope for the future. A promising start to the new year.
Though the light is officially on its way back, we still have a few months of winter left. Down in the city, here in our part of the world, that usually means buckets of rain – not necessarily the kind of glittery, glorious, shiny white expanses that make my heart sing on a well spent bluebird day on the mountain. But, the past couple of days have been dry, and the mornings especially cold and frosty. We took advantage of the good weather, and spent three days inventorying the stock fields at work, finishing up today – the day before New Years Eve.
Lots of shrubs looked fantastic in their frosted glory, but the absolutely Best in Show went to our very own Oregon Grape which was hauntingly beautiful with its sugar coated edges. I figured this prickly beast could serve as a good closeout shot of a – for so many – very prickly year. As I’ve said before, I’m one of the lucky ones. But my fragile sense of wellbeing is punctured by witnessing the misfortunes of so many around me – be they friends or strangers. I’m definitely ready to turn the page on 2020.
May 2021 be a good one for all of us, with lots more sugarcoating than offered by this brutal year. I’m casting blessings, good thoughts and karma into the world, in hopes they will find someone who can benefit from them. Please add your own and pass them on. Let 2021 be the year we all sail a little higher, come hell or high water. Peace out!
Mahonia aquifolium ‘Compacta’ with fabulous, frosty edges.
How’re you all holding up? Are you ready for the Holidays? We’re not. For as much as I usually enjoy all the lights and the pretty tree, honest to Dog, it feels like way too much work. I told everyone in the family that they were more than welcome to take charge this year. I would happily show them where the boxes of stuff are. Nobody took me up on my generous offer, and I’m entirely fine with that. I’m not sure of the exact origins of this year’s particular laziness, but really – I don’t have it in me to care. From our house, we can see the festive trees of two neighbors. They are beautiful, and I’m enjoying the sparkling glimpses without any effort whatsoever.
There is also so much to see when traipsing through the neighborhood. Shrubs with berries, and Persimmon trees with fabulous orange fruit. Hummingbirds are diving for the fuchsia, mahonia and abutilon which are still blooming. My grevillea has fat buds promising an extended show. Such simple things bring me so much joy, and this year I just don’t have the patience for all that other, extra work. I know this year is different, and a lot of people have a hard time reconciling the reality of spending the Holidays in lonely confinement, but that aspect doesn’t seem to bother me all that much either. I try to think of it as just one year out of a lifetime of years, so in the grand scheme of things….. I’ll get to see my people eventually, hopefully before too long. Buckling down and staying safe has rarely been more important, and I know removing ourselves from the pandemic exponential equation is an act that counts.
However noble that solitary ambition, I’m not perfect, and I did break down. I went to my hairdresser and got myself a nice COVID haircut. My hair guy specializes in color work, and me, being nearly completely disinterested in my appearance, usually let him have fun with me, and do what he wants. “I’m going for broke”, he said, and turned me into a flaming redhead. I like it! My blazing mane sparkles and shines in the pale light of the December sun. And that, my friends, is as far as I’ll go with the Christmas bling this year. I wish you all peace, health, love and contentment, however you choose to celebrate this Solstice derived holiday. I’ll catch you on the flip side. Don’t forget – brighter days are ahead, and are coming to a neighborhood near you – very soon.
How are you all holding up? We’re still mostly isolating ourselves at home which offers plenty of time to do all kinds of things. For a while now, I’ve wanted to improve my cooking skills using variations of both capsicum and legumes, so I started actually reading some of the cookbooks on the shelf – primarily a book on Indian cuisine, a recently acquired one on Peruvian cooking, and another one on chili peppers. Suddenly I learned something that is so painfully obvious that I feel like I should have known this for at least as long as I’ve been a gardener.
Couldn’t find a shot of a pepper, but here are close cousins – green tomatoes, ripening on the vine.
You know the nightshade family – Solanaceae? In particular, the members of the subfamily Solanoideae; potatoes, peppers, tomatoes, eggplant, etc.? I think it’s fairly common knowledge that those all came from South America – right? And yet, it totally blew my mind to learn that ALL of the world cuisines as we know them today, have the Portuguese to thank for the global spread of the members of the Solanaceae family, and the Capsicum genus. That’s right – before that fateful October day when Cristóbal Colón cast anchor off the east coast of the Americas, no other part of our planet had anything remotely like a chili pepper!!! A hundred years or so later, it was EVERYWHERE!! Wow… I can’t even imagine Ethiopian, Thai or Indian food without it. What a gigantic, historic, culinary watershed moment!
As plants and growers are wont to do, over the next 5 – 600 years the various peppers mutated, were crossbred and further hybridized. Now, there are varieties that we consider typical for the various regions – piri piri in East Africa and birdseye peppers in Southeast Asia, to name a couple. This might explain how I had so completely missed making this connection, but holy crap – what a life altering revelation!! Not to forget the other three major staples either – what would the Swedes and the Irish be without potatoes, the Chinese without the eggplant, and the Italians without the tomato? I’m stunned! And also very, very grateful I picked up that book.
The Creative Flux 