two saturdays

A cou­ple hours of com­mu­nity ser­vice: Sounds a lit­tle like a sen­tence handed down by a judge, but it was actu­ally how I spent some of last Sat­ur­day. I’ve posted ear­lier about the native plant gar­den at Old Town State His­toric Park. That trip I was walk­ing the paths and enjoy­ing garden.

palm-seedlings

But this time I was a vol­un­teer help­ing main­tain this inter­est­ing young gar­den. Much of the time I was squat­ted down in the dirt pulling up lit­tle palm trees. If you live in another part of the world you might think that pulling up palm trees is a bizarre thing to do. But palm seedlings are a very real weed around here, espe­cially when there are still actively fruit­ing palms nearby, and when there’s still an active seed­bank left from one of the palms that was removed to make way for the garden.

palm-date

palm-mexican-fan

mallow-flower

In just one month since my last visit, the num­ber of flow­ers had dimin­ished as we head into our long brown sea­son when many plants approach dor­mancy. There were some splashy clarkia flow­ers remain­ing, as well as this mal­low from the Chan­nel Islands.

There were other weeds to pull at, and the day ended with a quick prun­ing demon­stra­tion and a demon­stra­tion on one way to main­tain deer grass (Muh­len­ber­gia rigens). With this big, dra­matic grass you can let the stems go brown–which is an easy-maintenance approach to this plant. Or you can reach down on each of the old flow­er­ing stems, feel for a joint a cou­ple inches above the base of the plant, and pull. muhlenbergia-rigensIf you find the node, the stem yanks out with­out much resis­tance. It’s not a chore you can do eas­ily while wear­ing thick gloves, and with­out gloves you’ve likely to shred your hands. For­tu­nately this a grass that looks stately and archi­tec­tural whether or not you pull the dried stems. We left most of the plants as they were.

After just two hours of tidy­ing the gar­den looked even bet­ter and ready for the dry months ahead.

Jump ahead one week…

plant-sale-wet-pavement

Even though June is typ­i­cally one of our dry months, today was cool and driz­zly as John and I headed for the Mas­ter Gardener’s plant sale at Bal­boa Park.

plant-sale-fig

We parked near the park’s jumbo More­ton Bay fig (Ficus macro­phylla). It’s an amaz­ing plant, but like many figs, it’s not a good choice if you’re con­cerned about keep­ing your home’s foun­da­tion intact. I was appre­cia­tive of hav­ing the park, a great publicly-funded shared space, where you can go to enjoy spec­tac­u­lar plants that don’t make sense to plant in most home spaces.

plant-sale-lined-up

Rain or shine, the peo­ple make a trail to this plant sale. This is half an hour before the sale, with all these brave souls stand­ing in the heavy mist wait­ing to get first crack at this year’s offerings.

plant-sale-shoppers

…and this is dur­ing the first few min­utes of the sale.

Some high­lights this year were bromeli­ads from Bal­boa Park’s prop­a­ga­tion program–big plants for the price of a Happy Meal–and an entire table of dif­fer­ent salvias. As thrilled as I am with the genus salvia, I resisted the temp­ta­tions. No space in the gar­den is no space in the garden.

plant-sale-johns-plant

But John didn’t show the same restraint. He likes his suc­cu­lents. And the more unla­beled the suc­cu­lent is the bet­ter. I swear he does this to drive me crazy, know­ing how much I like my plant names. (The suc­cu­lent expert on site looked at it and said that it’s some sort of cras­sula rel­a­tive, which is what I’d have called it. Okay, we have a fam­ily name, and now only 1400 species to go through… Any help out there?)

Although we didn’t end up drop­ping a lot of change on this sale, many peo­ple with more space in the gar­dens found inter­est­ing plants to pop­u­late their spaces. And the pro­ceeds from the sale go to a good cause.

So these two Sat­ur­days showed a cou­ple way you can help the botan­i­cal orga­ni­za­tions around town. You can donate your labor. Or you can do what comes nat­u­rally for most Amer­i­cans: Go shopping!

June 20 2009 | Categories: gardeningplaces | Tags: | 5 Comments »

interpreting history through plants

mccoy-house-with-grasses

The native plant gar­den at San Diego’s Old Town State His­toric Park occu­pies a gen­tle rise in the land on the north end of the park. The gar­den sits on the grounds of the Silvas-McCoy house, a mod­ern recon­struc­tion by the park ser­vice based on foun­da­tions exca­vated in 1995.

The house repli­cates an 1869 struc­ture by Irish immi­grant James McCoy. Pre­vi­ous to McCoy’s arrival the site was pre­vi­ously in the hands of Maria Euge­nia Sil­vas, and the grounds also con­tain the foun­da­tions of two adobe struc­tures that pre­date the McCoy house.

The park ser­vice, charged with inter­pret­ing the his­tory of San Diego’s found­ing, decided between rebuild­ing the McCoy house or recre­at­ing the ear­lier adobes. Would they opt to tell the story of early Span­ish set­tle­ment? Or that of later set­tlers? Or instead could they do some­thing to inter­pret the area’s orig­i­nal inhab­i­tants, the Kumeyaay, whose vil­lage of Koss’ai occu­pied the site, and whose tenure went back thou­sands of years? Choices like that are never with­out con­tro­versy, and you could make good argu­ments on all sides of the debate.

This was dur­ing a flurry of his­toric recon­struc­tion in Old Town which turned this cor­ner of the park into a con­struc­tion zone. Dur­ing the project I spot­ted one of the more amus­ing infor­ma­tional signs I’ve encoun­tered, one that pro­claimed a nearby patch of earth to be the “Future site of San Diego’s first city jail.” (Do you ever regret not hav­ing a cam­era along?)

mccoy-house

The native plant gar­den, like the Silvas-McCoy house, also par­tic­i­pates in the park’s mis­sion to pro­vide his­toric con­text. The selec­tion of plants rein­forces the story the gar­den tells.

In the days of Sil­vas and McCoy the San Diego River flowed in front of this site. The plants that would have been found here would have been pri­mar­ily ripar­ian species. To tell that story, you’ll see stands of mug­wort, sycamore, mule­fat, coast live oak and wil­low fea­tured on the grounds.

In the past, the river would some­times empty into Mis­sion Bay to the north, or into San Diego Bay to the south. The geo­graph­i­cal inde­ci­sive­ness of a mean­der­ing river works fine for the nat­ural world, but poorly for a cul­ture tied to pri­vate own­er­ship of prop­erty. The cur­rent San Diego River has been forced into an engi­neered chan­nel a quar­ter mile to the north and is no longer able to decide on its own where it would like to go. So, in addi­tion to telling a story about the loca­tion of the river 150 years ago, the garden–a ripar­ian plant com­mu­nity stranded hun­dreds of feet from the river that would have orig­i­nally sus­tained it–to me speaks to notions of own­er­ship of space and ideas about the con­trol of nature. It’s not just another pretty garden.

monkey-flower

Of course, when you say “gar­den,” peo­ple do want to see pretty flow­ers. Above is chap­ar­ral mal­low (Mala­cotham­nus fas­ci­c­u­la­tus), and here’s the perky red mon­key (Mimu­lus auran­ti­a­cus)…

poppies-and-sage

…and the ever-popular Cal­i­for­nia state flower (Escholzia cal­i­for­nica) in its most rec­og­niz­able color form, with wands of white sage (Salvia apa­iana) in front.

native-bouquet

And here’s a bou­quet of some of what was blooming.

The gar­den in its cur­rent state goes back only a lit­tle more than a year, when a group of local Cal­i­for­nia Native Plant Soci­ety vol­un­teers weeded the site and planted many of the plants. The gar­den hosted an open house on Sat­ur­day, and vis­i­tors got a chance to tour the site and get insights from eth­nob­otanist Richard Bug­bee about tra­di­tional Kumeyaay uses of many of the plants in the garden.

For exam­ple did you know that young flow­er­ing stems of white sage were peeled and eaten raw? This is one of the most assertively aro­matic of sages, but peel­ing the stems pur­port­edly takes away the oil-producing glands and gives the stems a fla­vor some­thing like cel­ery. (Maybe “tastes like cel­ery” is the botan­i­cal equiv­a­lent of the catch-all “tastes like chicken,” but I intend to find out the next time my plants need a hair­cut…) Future plans for the gar­den include sig­nage on tra­di­tional Kumayaay uses of the plants grow­ing there.

group-photo

That’s eth­nob­otanist Richard Bug­bee, sec­ond from the right in this photo, along with land­scape archi­tect Kay Stew­art, far right, who was heav­ily involved in design­ing the gar­den. Next to Richard is Peter St. Clair who, along with the orig­i­nal donor to the native gar­den project, had the vision and per­sis­tence to have the gar­den in the first place. Peter also orga­nizes the vol­un­teer work crews that help main­tain and shape the garden.

At not much over a year old, this is still a young gar­den. There are still areas to be cleared and plant­i­ngs to be final­ized, but the gar­den has good bones and occu­pies a fas­ci­nat­ing loca­tion. It’s def­i­nitely a place to watch as it matures, and they’re always on the look­out for vol­un­teers to help the process along. Sign me up!

May 11 2009 | Categories: gardeningplaces | Tags: | 6 Comments »