blue and orange (gbbd)

The color com­bi­na­tion of blue and orange reminds me of noisy kid­die toys, of hard molded plas­tic wait­ing room chairs, of harshly lit 1970s fast-food restau­rants try­ing unsuc­cess­fully to look mod­ern and friendly, or of jer­seys for some high school foot­ball team. With two col­ors scream­ing at each other from oppo­site sides of a color wheel, it’s not a com­bi­na­tion that brings me a lot of joy or peace.

But spring is here, and part of the far back yard has been bloom­ing away. Its main col­ors are–you guessed it–blue and orange, mainly hot orange Cal­i­for­nia pop­pies and sky blue flow­ers of nemophilia, baby blue eyes.

As much as I gen­er­ally don’t love these col­ors together, it’s hard for me not to like this lit­tle zone of perky chaos.

Even the blue flow­ers against the brick hard­scape rein­forces the blue and orange (or blue and orange-red) colors.

But in a gar­den you hardly every have two strong flower col­ors alone. The vari­eties of leaf green serve as peace­mak­ers, sep­a­rat­ing the war­ring col­ors and inject­ing their own shades into the gar­den color palette. Other sec­ondary leaf or flower col­ors help the enrich the palette and keep the peace.

From some angles a softer blue-gray pro­vides a back­ground to the hot orange flow­ers. Here the foliage is the now-common chalk fin­gers, Senecio man­dralis­cae. It’s still a blue and orange theme, but the blue is less emphatic and the orange is per­mit­ted to dominate.

Lit­tle pock­ets of cool-colored plants pro­vide areas of visual rest. Here’s baby blue eyes and chalk fin­gers with a dark purple-black aeo­nium. Pre­tend I cut back the dying nar­cis­sus foliage…

Some view­points let the cool col­ors pre­dom­i­nate, with just a few punc­tu­a­tion marks of poppy orange. New into this photo are whitish-violet flow­ered black sage (Salvia mel­lif­era), magenta free­way daisy (Osteosper­mum), with a softer orange-red desert mal­low (Sphaer­al­cea ambigua) in the upper left corner.

I’ll have to rethink what the com­bi­na­tion of blue and orange means to me, at least in the gar­den. These flow­ers may be gone in a cou­ple of months. Maybe this a com­bi­na­tion that I should embrace and asso­ciate with “spring.”

Spring is bring­ing lots of other col­ors com­bi­na­tions and other flow­ers to gar­dens around the world. Check them out at May Dreams Gar­dens, where Carol is host­ing yet another Gar­den Bog­gers Bloom Day. Thank you, Carol!

April 14 2010 | Categories: gardeningmy garden | Tags: | 19 Comments »

controlled chaos

I often have trou­ble mix­ing orna­men­tals and veg­eta­bles together in a gar­den bed that’s sup­posed to be “for com­pany,” a bed that’s meant to be attrac­tive as well as con­tain­ing tasty-looking plants that you’d like to take to the din­ner table.

red-and-blue-and-purple-1

red-and-blue-and-purple-2

Some parts of the gar­den where I’ve snuck veg­gies in with the other plants look a lit­tle chaotic, but here’s a patch that I really like the looks of. Ear­lier I showed part of this cor­ner that the bed­room win­dow over­looks. But new things are start­ing to bloom, and the col­ors are start­ing to really click for me.

When I was putting this bed together, I set myself the main rule of “noth­ing yel­low.” In decid­ing what veg­gies to place there, I just stuck to that orga­niz­ing prin­ci­ple. (Okay, can you tell that I work in libraries and orga­nize infor­ma­tion dur­ing the week?)

This bed fea­tures sev­eral edi­bles: red-stemmed chard, orange-stemmed chard, Red Win­ter red Russ­ian kale, red beets, plus cat­mint for tea (and for the cat). The orna­men­tals include scar­let geum, pur­ple heliotrope, vio­let blue-eyed grass, the salmon-colored bulb Home­ria col­lina, two blue sages (Salvia sagit­tata and Salvia cacali­ae­fo­lia) plus a few other things not in bloom.

For sure, there’s a lot of red and blue and pur­ple going on here. But sev­eral vari­a­tions on green in the back­ground green do won­ders to pull together what might oth­er­wise be chaos.

I’m going to hate cut­ting any of these veg­gies for dinner…

April 04 2009 | Categories: my garden | Tags: | 9 Comments »

true blue sages

There are plenty of names for shades of blue: azure, cerulean, indigo, cobalt, ultra­ma­rine, sky, and navy. And then there’s even the spe­cial syn­thetic intense ultra­ma­rine shade that artist Yves Klein patented under the name “Inter­na­tional Klein blue.”

A visit to a nurs­ery, how­ever, seems to come up with only a short list of plants hav­ing flow­ers that are truly, intensely blue. Among the more com­mon plants pan­sies, del­phini­ums, peri­win­kles and corn­flow­ers would qual­ify. But decades of breed­ing attempts with roses and pha­laenop­sis and cat­t­leya orchids have failed to pro­duced any­thing other than pale mau­vey or laven­derey col­ors, mainly because those plants don’t pro­duce the nec­es­sary blue pig­ments in the first place.

There are lab­o­ra­tory sub­jects that have been genet­i­cally mod­i­fied to carry the genes to pro­duce blue pig­ment, and they’re pro­duc­ing flow­ers that are knock­ing on the door of being blue. For a flower to be blue, how­ever, in addi­tion to hav­ing the right pig­ments, the pH of the petals has to be absolutely cor­rect. Oth­er­wise you get pinks or more of those close-but-no-cigar col­ors like lilac. (If you’ve played with alter­ing the color of hydrangea blos­soms or mak­ing lit­mus paper change from pink to blue you’re already famil­iar with the con­trol­ling effects of acid­ity. Of course the big dif­fer­ence is that you can accom­plish hydrangea color change with­out going into the lab.) The basic genetic mod­i­fi­ca­tion process creeps me out a bit, and genetically-modified car­na­tions are sen­si­bly banned from Europe.

For­tu­nately the sage genus, Salvia, con­tains a num­ber of species with flow­ers that require no genetic manip­u­la­tion to achieve their amaz­ingly blue col­ors. I’ve devoted a cor­ner of my gar­den to three of them: ivy-leafed sage, arrow-leafed sage, and gen­tian sage.

Three salvias compared

The three species com­pared, left to right: Salvia patens ‘Oceano Blue,’ S. cacali­ae­fo­lia, and S. sagit­tata.

The ivy-leafed sage, Salvia cacali­ae­fo­lia, is a robust grower, four to five feet tall and as big around as you’ll let it get. I’m start­ing to call it the “walk­ing sage” because it can set down roots where the fairly lax stems touch the ground. It also sends up new stems from run­ners, though these don’t wan­der too far from the plant. Ram­bunc­tious, yes, but the plant has been eas­ily con­trolled with the help of Mis­ter Prun­ing Shears.

Ivy-leaved sage flower Ivy-leaved sage plant

As its com­mon name would sug­gest the leaves are a lit­tle ivy-like, tri­an­gu­lar, three inches in length, and a pleas­ant medium green color. The spaces between the paired leaves can approach eight or nine inches, mak­ing the plant look a lit­tle stemmy and infor­mal, but I find the mound­ing plant to be grace­ful and attractive.

Before the flow­ers open the buds develop an intense, almost indigo-blue shade, about as close to Inter­na­tional Klein Blue as you’ll find in the gar­den. The buds open to clean blue flow­ers, fairly sim­ple tubu­lar affairs that are about and inch and a quar­ter long. What the flow­ers might lack in size and showy com­plex­ity they make up with their sheer pro­fu­sion. The plant went into the ground Novem­ber 18 of last year, and it’s never been with­out flow­ers except for when the sprin­kler or heavy rains knocked them off. Har­di­ness reported to Zone 9.

The arrow-leafed sage, Salvia sagit­tata, grows smaller than the pre­vi­ous species. So far, for me, the plant is maybe two feet tall and three wide, with the inflo­res­cence adding a foot to the height. True to name, the leaves are shaped like an arrow­head. They eas­ily attain six inches in length, and have an attrac­tive light, almost lime-green col­oration. Towards the end of the sea­son the plant can lose its lower leaves and get leggy, so you might want to plant some­thing small and mound­ing near the plant to dis­guise the stems. (I’ve planted some lime thyme.)

Arrow-leaved sage flowerArrow-leaved sage plant

The flow­ers are about the same size as those of the ivy-leaved sage, and take the form of small tubes with one petal mod­i­fied to form a frilly lit­tle “skirt”–a handy plat­form for insects to land on. (If this were an orchid, the flower part would be called the label­lum, the “lip.”) The blooms float on thin, dark stems that make them look like exotic lit­tle but­ter­flies hov­er­ing over the plant. Their color is a vivid medium blue color, a main-line blue so pure it doesn’t need a fancy name. Peak bloom runs from May to late fall in San Diego. Con­sid­ered a ten­der peren­nial, prob­a­bly hardy into Zone 9.

The gen­tian sage, Salvia patens, is the newest addi­tion to my gar­den. The clone I chose is ‘Oceano Blue.’ So far the plant is about 30 inches tall and 15 wide, def­i­nitely the most con­strained of these three species. Leaves are oval-to-pointed (“ovate”), medium-dark green, and about two inches long.

Gentian sage flower Gentian sage plant

The flow­ers are almost iden­ti­cal to arrow-leaved sage in color–an intense medium blue–but the flow­ers are huge by con­trast, exceed­ing two inches in length and height. The petals have a dis­tinct for­ma­tion that makes me think of a crab claw. I haven’t grown it through the warmest months, but it has a rep­u­ta­tion for slow­ing down in its florif­er­ous­ness, some­thing I’m begin­ning to observe. Har­di­ness reported to Zone 8.

And what about the com­mon bed­ding plant Salvia fari­nacea ‘Vic­to­ria Blue,’ the mealy cup sage? It can be a great plant, par­tic­u­larly in warmer, less humid cli­mates and sea­sons when pow­dery mildew isn’t an issue. The flow­ers, how­ever, range more towards blue-violet, not a pure shade of blue. So if you’re a blue purist, fuggedaboutit.

June 21 2008 | Categories: my gardenplant profiles | Tags: | No Comments »