the big project

It’s done at last, the project from Hades.

The ugly back­side of the out­door fire­place, a week into the demolition

What started out as this ugly out­door fire­place with attached bench…

The fin­ished bench, from the end.

…has now mor­phed effort­lessly (yah right) into this new gar­den fea­ture: part bench, part deck, part raised bog/planter. It’s about four by six­teen feet in size.

For the last two years my bog plants were hog­ging up the sunny spot in the mid­dle of the patio. Totally in the way. The new bench needed to have a raised bog/planter detail, return­ing some of the hard­scape to garden.

With a gen­eral plan in place we got going.

 

Some scenes from the project:

This act of cre­ation began with an act of destruc­tion. The decrepit and not earthquake-safe chim­ney came down a brick at a time over sev­eral week­ends. We saved 350 bricks that came off in pretty good con­di­tion and hand-chiseled the mor­tar off of most of them. Inside the fire­place was the rea­son the whole thing hadn’t col­lapsed already: 200 pounds of rein­forc­ing steel. At cur­rent metal recy­cling rates we got almost 30 dol­lars for the scrap metal.

The rus­tic Japan­ese tiles that I loved 15 years ago and still appre­ci­ate now

I had some moments of nos­tal­gia and renewed appre­ci­a­tion for the lit­tle Japan­ese tiles that I picked out fif­teen years ago to try to orna­ment what at the time was already a mar­gin­ally attrac­tive gar­den fea­ture. The didn’t come off the fire­place eas­ily, and the shards and even the good bits were dis­patched to the dump. As much as we tried to recy­cle, this project is not going to get a Plat­inum LEED rat­ing.

The super-story bricks removed, we were left with a long con­crete bench. I like plain con­crete as a mate­r­ial, but this bench had been formed around a wood fence that had rot­ted away a decade ago. We shimmed over the ugli­ness and cov­ered it all with wood.

A shimmed cor­ner with sup­port for the deck­ing about to be installed

The whole bench with shims in place


 

The bench with black paint to keep the white from show­ing through between the slats

Before adding sup­pot bat­tens for the planter we checked to see how it would look with them out­side. Ugh. Way too rus­tic, too Coun­try Home, too NASCAR. The bat­tens are now hid­den inside.


 

With the fire­place gone, it opens up the patio to the rest of the back yard.I liked how the zones were dis­tinct before, but the bench still serves as a gen­tle sep­a­ra­tor between gar­den zones.


 

The bench was poured with this Greco-Roman col­umn for sup­port. Were they pin­ing for some lost ances­tors? Or were they post­mod­ern ten years before the move­ment caught on with archi­tects? What­ever the case, we decided to paint it black to de-emphasize it. No way were we going to take on tak­ing it out!

The planter nearly com­plete, ready for the pond liner

Pond liner being put into place. This is to pro­tect the wood and allow the bog plants to sit in water. This could also be repur­posed in the future as a raised pond, or–after punch­ing some drain holes–a nor­mal planter box.

…and here it is with the bog plants in place.


A final “after” picture:

We’re going to relax some before start­ing the next gar­den project, maybe in these two old but­ter­fly chairs John got second-hand 30 years ago, with our feet up on the new bench…

July 09 2011 | Categories: gardeningmy garden | Tags: | 10 Comments »

leaves more amazing than flowers

Sar­race­nia Leah Wilk­er­son pitcher and flower

Today I fea­ture some strik­ing pitcher plant leaves to mark the occa­sion of April’s Foliage Follow-Up, the blog meme begun by Pam of Digging.

The story goes that the early set­tlers mis­took the car­niv­o­rous trumpet-shaped leaves for flow­ers. And how could you blame them? These tall tubes formed from mod­i­fied leaves fea­ture inter­est­ing shapes and col­ors in the green-yellow-white-pink-red range, often with the col­ors form­ing strik­ing pat­terns. They’re eas­ily as inter­est­ing as most flowers.

Botanist Don­ald E. Schnell writes in Car­niv­o­rous Plants of the United States and Canada, “there seems to be noth­ing sub­tle about pitcher plants. Their gen­eral appear­ance begs atten­tion, and when we encounter them we are almost star­tled. But once we look for awhile, then wan­der among them, we can begin to peel apart lay­ers of sub­tlety and see many lit­tle secrets that col­lec­tive fit these plants so neatly into their bog habitat–and we still do not know all their secrets.”

Schnell has divided the car­niv­o­rous pitcher leaf into 5 dif­fer­ent zones, each with a dif­fer­ent mor­phol­ogy. The scary insect-eating and –digest­ing car­nivory takes place down in zones 3 and 4, the lower parts of the pitcher. But these pho­tos con­cen­trate on the backs of the top lid of these pitch­ers, the entire lid being what Schnell calls zone 1.

The top of the pitcher of Sar­race­nia Leah Wilkerson

Sar­race­nia Mardi Gras

Sar­race­nia leu­co­phylla, red, Franklin County, Florida

Sar­race­nia leu­co­phylla ‘Tarnok’

Sar­race­nia mitchel­liana. Within a few weeks the pitcher will be entirely maroon.

Sar­race­nia (flava x mitchel­liana). Plants with brown­ish leaves are often a hard sell, but I think this plant makes a good case that they can look rich and won­der­ful, not like dead leaves.

Sar­race­nia Judith Hin­dle

Sar­race­nia W.C.

Sar­race­nia Red Suma­tra. This early in the sea­son it looks more like Pink Suma­tra, but the color will darken before long.

Even though my sar­race­nia plants get to live in a cushy USDA Zone 10 gar­den (not to be con­fused with the zones of a sar­rece­nia pitcher), their inter­nal clocks seem more tuned in to sea­sonal cycles of daylength or rel­a­tive tem­per­a­tures than to absolute tem­per­a­tures. Most of the species and hybrids have been sus­pi­cious of San Diego’s warm cli­mate and keep their flow­ers and foliage devel­op­ing in the rhi­zomes all win­ter. Only now are most begin­ning to bloom and send out leaves, though maybe a lit­tle bit ear­lier than in the Amer­i­can South­east, where these plants originate.

As the sea­son pro­gresses, these leaves will often develop dif­fer­ent col­orations. The veins in some will grow more pro­nounced, some pitch­ers will go all-red, oth­ers will show a golden under­glow. The brief burst of spring flow­ers in these plants is great, but the foliage makes for months of really cool leaf-viewing.

For all sorts of other foliage hap­pen­ings in the gar­den world, check out the links in this month’s Foliage Follow-Up post at Dig­ging. Thanks for host­ing, Pam!


April 16 2010 | Categories: gardeningmy garden | Tags: | 13 Comments »

halloween hostess bouquet

What do you take to the Hal­loween party when you know the hosts will have every­thing taken care of?

Hostess present of sarracenia pitchers

Here’s my solu­tion for tonight: a bou­quet of car­niv­o­rous plant pitch­ers from the back­yard bog gar­den. Shown here are two Sar­rece­nia leu­co­phyllas, S. alata, and the hybrid S. Judith Hindle.

It was either those or a bloom of the stink­ing corpse flower, which unfor­tu­nately is between flow­ers. Besides, it’s prob­a­bly bet­ter eti­quette, even on Hal­loween, to show up with a bou­quet of pretty but slightly creepy pitch­ers than a mam­moth blos­som that smells like carrion…

October 31 2009 | Categories: gardeningmy garden | Tags: | 6 Comments »

sarracenia: an appreciation

So many inter­est­ing plants, so lit­tle time and space to grow them. My cur­rent plant obses­sion is the Amer­i­can pitcher plant genus, Sar­race­nia. I’m not alone in my obses­sion. Brooks Gar­cia even has a firm ded­i­cated to the genus which bears the name Sar­race­nia Obsessed. It’s hard to explain what causes a per­sonal obses­sion but let me try.

The plants of this genus of eight to eleven species all have evolved mod­i­fied leaves that form tubes that attract and cap­ture prey. A fly or an ant and goes for the nec­tar that the plant offers at the tip of the pitcher, and every few of the unfor­tu­nates slips on the slip­pery sur­face and is directed down far­ther into the tube by downward-pointing hairs on the inside of the leaf. Many of the species have a tube filled with diges­tive enzymes that await any crea­ture that makes it to the bot­tom of the tube. The insect even­tu­ally drowns, and is digested by the plant. Dinner.

Evo­lu­tion­ary biol­ogy has devised a num­ber of unpleas­ant ways its crea­tures can meet their ends. Being lured into a nectar-bated trap, then directed by needle-sharp hairs towards a nasty fluid that will start to eat you while you’re still a lit­tle bit alive sounds like one of the more grue­some exits to make. (I’ll never com­plain about another gru­el­ing din­ner party again…)

There are peo­ple who grow these plants where all this car­niv­o­rous unpleas­ant­ness is the main attrac­tion. A lot of these enthu­si­asts are men. Are car­niv­o­rous plants a guy-thing? All this eat-or-be-eaten machismo, Rambo non­sense, I won­der? But I guess I’m a lit­tle defec­tive as a guy—I love to cook and I watch Project Run­way for godsakes—and what really attracts me to these is how seri­ously gor­geous and inter­est­ing these plants are.

Take the case of the yel­low pitcher plant, Sar­race­nia flava. This species fea­tures an extended upright tube (back to that guy thing again, sorry) that’s capped by an attrac­tive lid that hov­ers over the open­ing. These plants live in bogs in lands of many rains, so the lid helps keep rain­wa­ter from dilut­ing the nasty fluid inside the tube. The basic struc­ture car­ries from one form of the species to the other, but sub­tle vari­a­tions in shape and extreme ones in col­oration could keep a col­lec­tor occu­pied for decades.

In my lit­tle col­lec­tion I have sev­eral of the col­ored vari­a­tions that have been described. The pitch­ers look best in the spring and are a lit­tle ragged this time of year. But you can get a basic idea of some of the dif­fer­ences between plants of this species.

Sarracenia flava variety maxima

Sar­race­nia flava var. max­ima sits at one end of the spec­trum, color-wise. The leaves are all a clean green­ish yel­low color—leaf color—with the only pig­ment being lit­tle patches of red­dish col­oration at the grow­ing point of the rhizome.

Sarracenia flava wide mouthed variety

S. flava var. flava takes the basic pitcher back­ground color of var. max­ima and adds some strip­ing to the leaves. This is a ver­sion of this vari­ety with an extra-wide maw.

Sarracenia flava coppertop

S. flava var. cuprea is also called the “cop­per top” vari­ety. The back of the lid can have a light bronze to dark choco­late col­oration. Some­times the color stays for the life of the pitcher, some­times it fades to green. In pro­longed full-sun con­di­tions this plant can have a won­der­ful dark choco­late top, plus some of the heavy vein­ing you’d find in some of the more heav­ily col­ored varieties.

Beyond these, there’s a var. rugelli, which has all-green col­oration accented with a maroon bloth in the throat, var. rubri­corpa, the “red tube” which has a red body topped with a veined hood, and var. atrop­ur­purea, which has such a heavy suf­fu­sion of red that the entire tube looks that color.

And that’s only one species. There are seven to ten oth­ers, depend­ing on the tax­on­o­mist you’re talk­ing to, with each of the oth­ers pre­sent­ing their own inter­est­ing vari­a­tions on the bug-eating pitcher theme. And all of these species can inter­breed, lead­ing to huge num­bers of hybrids. Check out all the Sar­race­nia pho­tos of species and hybrids at The Car­niv­o­rous Plant Photo Finder. You may end up spend­ing hours at this one site alone and never find a way out of this obsession.

October 25 2009 | Categories: gardeningmy gardenplant profiles | Tags: | 5 Comments »

souvenirs

I’m back from my trip, and I’ll post some of the trip pic­tures here soon.

Two weeks away dur­ing prime grow­ing sea­son can guar­an­tee that you’ll come back to sur­prises. I knew toma­toes grew quickly, but, dang, what was I think­ing when I put that one inde­ter­mi­nate mon­ster in the flower bed? I don’t usu­ally prune my tomato plants, but that’s what I was doing within fif­teen min­utes of pulling up in the dri­ve­way. A few baby toma­toes of the first crop went with the stems that went into the greens recy­cle bin, but there will be more where those came from.

Sarracenia alata pitcherThe nicest sur­prise to come back to was prob­a­bly the open­ing of the first pitcher on the Sar­race­nia alata in the new bog gar­den. I’d been watch­ing the new leaves mak­ing their way up from the rhi­zomes for the last cou­ple of months, and this first pitcher was per­fect: ele­gant, stream­lined, and gen­tly striped.

I usu­ally don’t buy piles of sou­venirs on my trips. This time I came home with three. One was a lit­tle soap in the shape of a cute griz­zly bear. (The soap smelled like cheap cologne.) Another was a wild huckleberry-filled choco­late bar for John. (Even though he likes choco­late as much as I do, he agreed that the sou­venir bar tasted like bad Hershey’s with a lit­tle bit of berry jam spread on it. At least the wrap­per was festive.)

And the last sou­venir I brought home was for the car­niv­o­rous plants in the bog gar­den. Com­mon wis­dom is that car­ni­vores like pure water, with total dis­solved solids less than 50 parts per mil­lion. The local San Diego water bot­toms out at around 180ppm tds and goes up from there, so it’s not ideal–and actu­ally lethal over the long term–for car­ni­vores. At the Nor­ris Camp­ground in Yel­low­stone on my way out I emp­tied my 5-gallon emer­gency water con­tainer which I’d filled with dis­gust­ing San Diego tap water at the start of the trip. Then I went to the spigot and filled it with five fresh gal­lons of pure moun­tain snowmelt.

Cape sundewNot long after I got home I took the moun­tain water to the bog plants and opened the spigot on the jug and let it drib­ble into the assorted pitcher plants and sun­dews. After sniff­ing the dis­gust­ing sou­venir soap and sam­pling the unfor­tu­nate choco­late, I know the bog plants got the best sou­venir of all from my trip. Noth­ing is too good for some of my cur­rent favorite plants…

A happy Cape sun­dew (Drosera capen­sis, broad leaf form) in the bog garden.

June 06 2008 | Categories: landscape designmy garden | Tags: | 3 Comments »

carnivorous plants in action

I’ve had a cou­ple recent posts on insects. While I’ll on the sub­ject it looks like there’s a whole sub­cul­ture of insect snuff films on YouTube. Notice that the “no ani­mals were harmed dur­ing the film­ing of this video” assur­ance appears nowhere on any of these videos… Here are a cou­ple show­ing droseras in action:


You can read up on how the insides of the sar­race­nia pitcher plants are lined with hairs that point down­wards, into “the drink,” mak­ing escape almost impos­si­ble for small insects. Or you can see it for your­self:

And what col­lec­tion of car­niv­o­rous plant videos would be com­plete with­out one show­ing a venus fly­trap doing its thing:

March 31 2008 | Categories: gardening | Tags: | 1 Comment »