hydrate!

Sum­mer heat finally arrived–in Sep­tem­ber. Two hours north, Los Ange­les hit 113 degrees on Mon­day, a degree hot­ter than Death Val­ley. At least one San Diego County town hit 109 on Mon­day, though down here near the coast it didn’t get much more than the low 90s. Still, really hot by what we’re used to.

Now that it’s turned hot I feel like as pun­ish­ment I need to write on the chalk­board two hun­dred times:

I will not com­plain about it being a cold sum­mer.
I will not com­plain about it being a cold sum­mer.
I will not com­plain about it being a cold sum­mer.
I will not com­plain about it being a cold sum­mer.
I will not com­plain about it being a cold sum­mer.
I will not com­plain about it being a cold sum­mer.
I will not com­plain about it being a cold sum­mer.
I will not com­plain about it being a cold sum­mer.
I will not com­plain about it being a cold summer…

It was so hot that the con­tents of the snack bot­tle of vit­a­min Cs (aka choco­late chips) were turn­ing into choco­late goo. John’s emer­gency response to stick them in the fridge averted disaster.

Over the week­end, know­ing it was going to be a stretch of hot weather ahead, I tried to give a seri­ous soak to the plants most sus­cep­ti­ble to dry­ing out. Any­thing in a pot got a good drink–a les­son I learned in August when we had two sur­prise days of hot sum­mer sum­mer weather. In August this Cean­othus lleu­co­der­mis that I’d care­fully prop­a­gated from seed didn’t sur­vive the hot spell to be planted this fall.

In addi­tion to the pot­ted plants, a small group that was new in August got an extra water­ing out of the weekly cycle. And the remain­ing zones of water-intensive plants and bogs got the extra soak.

Some plants didn’t seem to be both­ered by the heat or dry­ness. This native blad­der­pod (Iso­meris arborea) has been one of the most reli­able gar­den plants, expand­ing and bloom­ing like crazy in a spot where it has shaded roots. Another blad­der­pod in a more exposed loca­tion sub­sists on a sim­i­lar amount of water, though it’s just one third the size of this plant.

The non-native Solanum pyra­can­thum is another plant that gets by with close to zero added water in a semi-sheltered spot near the first blad­der­pod. It has a much longer bloom sea­son than my native night­shades, and it has the added bonus of a row of dec­o­ra­tive orange spikes that dec­o­rate the cen­ter of each leaf.

A pot­ted Stapelia gigan­tea also seemed to enjoy the hot weather. You can tell by the burned stems that this plant prob­a­bly doesn’t get enough mois­ture. Still, it sur­vives and blooms.

In my last post I men­tioned a dif­fer­ent stapelia species that stinks like car­rion and is pol­li­nated by flies. This S. gigan­tea has the same charm­ing trait. The fifty pound pot­full of stinky plant lives out­side the win­dow to my stu­dio work­sta­tion. Like most peo­ple in the neigh­bor­hood we don’t bother with air con­di­tion­ing, so work­ing in my stu­dio has been an…interesting olfac­tory expe­ri­ence. At least the stink is only really bad when you get close to the flower.

With heat often comes fire. Two recent evenings had extra-fiery sun­sets. What looks like col­or­ful sun-lit clouds in this photo is actu­ally smoke from a 500-plus acre fire in Mex­ico that made it over the bor­der. For­tu­nately the fire got extin­guished and didn’t develop into another of the mon­ster con­fla­gra­tions we’ve expe­ri­enced twice in the last seven years.

The rest of the West Coast seems to be shar­ing this same heat­wave. The worst seems over, but there are prob­a­bly more warm days ahead. So stay cool as possible–and remem­ber to hydrate.

September 29 2010 | Categories: gardening | Tags: | 12 Comments »

pining for the fjords

Pining deerweed 2

Pining deerweed

Dead plants? Or are these just rest­ing, pin­ing for the fjords?

I suf­fer from that mix of lazi­ness, lack of time and unre­al­is­tic expec­ta­tions that will let me leave a dead plant in the ground longer than it prob­a­bly should stay in a home gar­den that is try­ing to look pre­sentable to the neigh­bors. Some­times I’ll even water a dead plant, know­ing I’m wast­ing my water, but secretly hop­ing that there might just be the least chance the plant isn’t really gone.

A few new plants in the gar­den don’t sur­vive the ini­tial trans­plant. I still find myself under­es­ti­mat­ing the water needs of a new plant. Aloe rootsJust because it’s “drought-tolerant” doesn’t mean it will take to its new dry home in the gar­den with­out enough water to get a proper root sys­tem estab­lished out­side the con­fines of the lit­tle nurs­ery con­tain­ers. The plants above, two of the five deer­weeds I planted this year, prob­a­bly didn’t make it for that rea­son. It prob­a­bly didn’t help that the smaller of the two plants was set into a bed where nearby plants had estab­lished a root sys­tem already and would likely steal away any water I gave the new plant. This pic­ture shows some of the com­pet­ing roots.

Pining mimulus

Dead Salvia cacaliaefolia

Other plants just seem to…die. Here’s an ex-monkey flower to the left. Maybe it was lack of water in its sec­ond year. Maybe it didn’t like its spot. And the plant to the right is my Guata­malan blue, the ivy-leaved sage, Salvia cacali­ae­fo­lia. No mys­tery with this one. It was get­ting way too big, and I pruned it ridicu­lously hard in late July or August. Killed it. There was a bit of green left as recently as a month ago, and this plant being a sage prob­a­bly would have rooted if I’d stuck one of the green bits in some cut­ting mix. But I dozed. Dead plant.

Isomeris arborea back from the dead

But every now and then some­thing like this hap­pens. I’d planted this blad­der­pod (Iso­meris arborea) in the late win­ter and kept it watered. It seemed to be hang­ing on okay but wasn’t a fast grower. Then a colony of some insects I’d never seen before descended overnight and seemed to be repro­duc­ing a new gen­er­a­tion. In the process they stripped most of its leaves. The plant quickly dropped what few leaves were left and I wrote it off as dead. In a weird way I thought of its demise as a suc­cess story: The native plant pro­vided food and shel­ter for one of the less usual vis­i­tors to the gar­den. Only in the course of things I thought the plant had per­ished. Bummer.

But here it is three months later, leafed out, wait­ing for the rains to come. With suc­cess sto­ries like this I’m reluc­tant to give up on the plants in the other pho­tos, but I think their time has come.

November 17 2009 | Categories: gardeningmy garden | Tags: | 4 Comments »

rain, almost

We’re located far enough south that the mon­soonal influ­ence that brings August rains to the desert south­west can some­times make itself felt. But we’re far enough north that the effect is mostly some­what more humid days but very lit­tle or noth­ing at all in the way of actual precipitation.

Yes­ter­day after­noon I was on the com­puter, play­ing a game of Tetris, that time-sink that raised itself in my con­scious­ness again now that media out­lets were cel­e­brat­ing its twenty-fifth anniver­sary. For a few sec­onds there was this noise out­side. Rain?

Raindrops on step

By the time I paused the game and made it out­side most of it had evap­o­rated, but I did man­age to see a few drops left on some steps. It was enough to make it into the weather report as “a trace” of rain, but noth­ing to add to the 0.0 inches rain­fall total since the start of the July rain sea­son or 3.1 inches since the start of the year.

Sunrise clouds

A trace isn’t enough mois­ture to mean much to the plants, but the weather pat­tern made for nice clouds for the sun to col­orize this morning…

Moon rising

…and a nice moon­rise last night. (Sun­set a few min­utes later was great, but I don’t take my cam­era every­where I go.)

We’ve been think­ing about get­ting ready for a few days away to see some fam­ily in the Sonoma Val­ley. A lit­tle rain would have helped with the prepa­ra­tions by reduc­ing the areas I’d be hand-watering in prepa­ra­tion for being away. There’ll be some­one tak­ing care of the house, but it would be a lit­tle much to assem­ble detailed water­ing instruc­tions or to ask them to climb a short but steep bank of loose dirt with a water­ing can to attend to some plants that are still get­ting established.

At a time like this I real­ize that this is a gardener’s gar­den that requires selec­tive atten­tion to dif­fer­ent plants. Most of the plants are grouped by water needs, and two sprin­kler heads and a small drip sys­tem take care of the thirsti­est plants. But the occa­sional new plant mixed in with estab­lished plant­i­ngs requires indi­vid­u­al­ized attention–mostly in the form of extra water, usu­ally deliv­ered by hand. So I’ll be work­ing through a short list of water­ing chores to fin­ish before leaving:

  • soak the pot­ted plants
  • soak the new plants scat­tered around the garden
  • give the veg­gies a good drink
  • visit the water store for 5 gal­lons of water for the bog plants
  • water seedlings and cut­tings in the greenhouse


Scooter recumbent

And there’s one final impor­tant thing to remem­ber: Put cat food out where the cat sitter–but not the ants–can find it…

August 04 2009 | Categories: gardeningmy garden | Tags: | 5 Comments »

in the greenhouse, or, the dictator’s wife

greenhouse-euphorbia-outsideI was in the green­house Fri­day morn­ing, water­ing some pots of seedlings. It seemed funny for a sec­ond, because out­side the green­house it was rain­ing. If I hadn’t gone in there with the hose that morn­ing, the seedlings would have died in the desert for lack of water.

(Left, a Euphor­bia chara­cias ssp. wulfenii out­side the green­house, bloom­ing away in the rain.)

I used to grow and breed pha­laenop­sis orchids in the green­house. It was gonzo amounts of work to keep up with repot­ting hun­dreds of plants. And try­ing to con­coct an envi­ron­ment that would fool the orchids into think­ing that they were in the low­lands of the Philip­pines instead of the flats of South­ern Cal­i­for­nia wasn’t that easy either. In addi­tion to all the work, the green­house was an energy pig, tak­ing as much nat­ural gas to heat as the entire house.

So, end of orchid obses­sion. End of heat­ing the out­doors and wast­ing all that energy. (The New York Times has a recent piece on a cou­ple who decided to build them­selves a green­house. Their heater hasn’t arrived yet, but they’re already way over budget.)

greenhouseinside

Now that the trop­i­cal orchid episode of my life has ended the green­house is only heated by the sun via the green­house effect. At this time of year it’s handy to have a spot that will help give young plants a head start on spring. That’s pretty much how I use the green­house now.

greenhouseclutterAnd, um, yes, for a place to store gar­den clut­ter. Sort of a gar­den shed with windows…

greenhouselookinginFor­tu­nately the win­dows are an opaque fiber­glass, so all the mess inside is obscured. Maybe even a lit­tle mys­te­ri­ous and poetic. Here are some pot­ted plants as seen from the outside.

As I was water­ing the plants in my lit­tle arti­fi­cial out­door desert I thought back to the 1980s. One the sto­ries from the news that has stuck in my brain all these years was a report on Michèle Ben­nett, the wife of Haiti’s dic­ta­tor, Baby Doc Duva­lier. The cou­ple was bad news all around, and one of Michèle’s vices was that she’d refrig­er­ate a part of the palace so that she and her friends could strut about in the fur coats that they col­lected. (Com­pared to her husband’s bru­tal ways, it all seems pretty minor, of course.)

Mink and fox and chin­chilla coats in Haiti. About as ratio­nal as a green­house full of warm trop­i­cal orchids in San Diego, I thought.

I guess we all want a lit­tle of of what doesn’t come eas­ily or nat­u­rally. But in an age of a grow­ing aware­ness of the need to live greener it’s good to stand back and see what we really need.

January 25 2009 | Categories: gardening | Tags: | 5 Comments »

expressive irrigation

Only a cou­ple areas of the gar­den are on auto­matic water­ing with ded­i­cated sprin­klers. The rest of the gar­den has to depend on rain­full and the gar­dener drag­ging a hose over to what­ever needs to be watered. I’m sure that reduces how much I water because I’m very con­scious of how long I’m stand­ing there with the hose and how moist the soil appears to be getting.

hoseartIt’s been warm for the last cou­ple of weeks, and a month since the last rains, so I’ve been doing a cer­tain amount of water­ing. But I’ve also been mak­ing lit­tle line draw­ings with the hose…

sprinklerartAnd how many of you have this same sprin­kler head? I try no to anthro­mor­phize things too much, bust this sprin­kler always seems to be star­ing back at me quizzically.

January 19 2009 | Categories: gardeningmy gardenrambles | Tags: | 5 Comments »

wasteland no more

Our roof deck has felt like a bar­ren waste­land ever since it was built. There’s a set of plas­tic gar­den fur­ni­ture up there, but we’ve stared at the space and won­dered why it con­tin­ues to feel so inhospitable.

For the last two years, being a gar­dener, plant­ing some­thing up there in pots has been my first thought towards a solu­tion. The space gets full sun all day, how­ever, and even though we’d thought ahead to install a hose bib up there, the last thing we want to do is to lock our­selves into a respon­si­bil­ity of try­ing to remem­ber to trudge up there X times a week to keep things watered.

There are auto­matic water­ing sys­tems out there that might have helped with the prob­lem. Orbit, for instance, makes a line of inex­pen­sive battery-powered devices that hook up to a hose or bib. Our expe­ri­ence in the past with one of these units soured us on that thought, though. We found that the thing required a lot of atten­tion to get flow and tim­ings just right, and it resulted in an octopus’s worth of lit­tle hoses going everywhere.

Also, I’ve decided that there are two kinds of peo­ple out in the world. The gad­get peo­ple are the ones who have to have the lat­est cool gizmo or sup­posed labor-saving device. They’re the first to have an iPhone and the last to pull a weed with their bare hands when there might a spe­cial device in the garage.

The sim­pli­fiers–and I usu­ally count myself in their numbers–have lit­tle use for gadets, which we typ­i­cally refer to as “toys.” We can some­times seem obstruc­tion­ist to the march of progress, and we often have to have the worth of some­thing proved to us before we adopt it. At that point we’ll call a gad­get a “nec­es­sary tool.” (A Lud­dite would be a highly devel­oped sub­species of simplifier.)

So, last week­end, this sim­pli­fier decided to finally take on the roof deck. To make long-term life eas­ier for me, the roof solu­tion had to include the fol­low­ing prac­ti­cal considerations:

  • Tough, sun-loving, drought-tolerant plants
  • Large pots (to hold mois­ture longer)
  • Mulch (to reduce evap­o­ra­tion of moisture)
  • A group­ing of pots so that the plants could shade each other

To that list, I needed to add that the cho­sen plants would have to be able to visu­ally hold their own in a large space. And of course, the end result had to be fab­u­lous, at least to my eyes. So shop­ping I went.

After spend­ing so much time out­doors, vis­it­ing every nurs­ery and home store in a ten mile radius, I came home with the worst sun­burn so far this year. I also had three pots, three plants, and sev­eral bags of pot­ting soil. Get­ting the largest pot–which must have weighed a hun­dred pounds–up the spi­ral stair­case was quite a feat, but here’s the result.

Roof plantings

Roof plant­i­ngs

In the next cou­ple of posts I’ll talk about the plants–which are all new to my garden–and then the pots, which I thought were cool finds.

August 10 2008 | Categories: landscape designmy garden | Tags: | 1 Comment »