The Transition

Rain does this...

But rain also does this...

'The Ambridge Rose'

Though the Aloe show continues...


...and though in the dire days of winter, even Bulbine fascinated...


...now other flowers begin to distract...

"Dutch" Iris

...and what so recently arrived as this....


...now looks like this...


...and is just the start...


...of SPRINGTIME! YIPPEEEE! YEEEEHAAAWW!!! WHEEEEE!

Wrong Spot

Lovely lovely white Lady Banks (Rosa banksiae banksiae), but it really wants to be at least 20' (7 m) to start with in all directions.  Eventually they'll get tired of trimming it, and it will go.

Doomed:


And Lemon-scented Gums,Corymbia citriodora (Eucalyptus citriodora), potentially 160' tall, planted directly under power lines.  So they topped these graceful trees, rendering them clumsy and sad.



Wrong spot.  Wrong, wrong, wrong. 

Rehabilitating A Climbing Rose, Part II

Sunday, I spent hours continuing to work on 'Crepuscule', the rehab climbing rose.


I worked on it for hours Monday, too. 
Tuesday morning, too.



I got all the dead wood off, and shortened almost all the tertiary laterals (twiggy laterals coming off longer substantial laterals growing from the main (basal) canes).  I secured a few canes to the fence, but mostly just removed dead wood and twiggy growth.



Some of the main canes, which had ground contact in several spots, have rooted themselves along their length.  At some point they can be cut and separated, creating multiple plants.  Not this year, though.




In the original post about rehabbing this disgracefully neglected climber, I mentioned it was a little late for pruning, but it really wasn't.  Because Crepuscule is slow to leaf out in spring, plus all the rain, it's been actually ideal.  I've discovered that a thoroughly water-saturated rose is at its most flexible.  Even though some of the canes are more than six years old, they were still plenty flexible.

To finish up, the now nearly leafless plant got a big hit of The Blue Juice followed by a generous dump of saved rain water.  The ground is deeply moist from the recent rains and the plant is well established.  A big hit of 35-6-6 is going to put foliage back on that puppy quickly.  Then the flowers shall follow.




In about six weeks or eight weeks, I hope to have plenty of flowers and foliage once again, on a far happier plant.  I'll post results then, so we can see if all the work was worth it. 

Two revelations gained during all those hours of meditative snipping:   first, it is wise to work with years of good rainfall.  It was a good rainfall year, so a major whack this year won't be as stressful, and will be more successful, than a whack in a drought year.  The soil is deeply moist, so the rose will rebound quickly, and produce a lot of good new growth.  Doing the same thing in a drought year would not be nearly so effective. 

Second revelation:  rehabbing a climber isn't really any different than pruning a climber.  You take off all the dead/diseased stuff, shorten the laterals, perhaps remove the oldest, non-productive one or two main canes, and then rearrange on the support as required.  That's all. 

I end with a completely unnecessary picture of Madeira Geranium, with the fuzzy stems aglow in morning sun.   It will be dead in a few weeks, but for now...

Pinching Plants

Pinching the growing tips of certain plants significantly improve their appearance

 
The Fuchsias and Coprosmas are actively growing here now, so  it's time to thoroughly pinch them into bushy fullness.   Pinching is something I enjoy doing.  I can walk by a plant and pinch it a bit, no tools required.  This is good because I rarely have the right tool for the job--I've tried digging with Felcos and pruning with a utility knife on occasion, with less than satisfactory results.    Pinching Fuchsias and Coprosmas require only fingertips, so I can always do the job correctly.   Done regularly as the plants grow over the course of a few weeks, it produces satisfying results. 

Each pinch (in the white circles) produced a new pair of stems.  For Fuchsias, the more stems, the more flowers:
 
Left to themselves, some plants would be lanky or spindly, but constant grooming every few days when they are growing rapidly at this time of year produces tight globes of foliage.  Then the pinching stops and the Fuchsias are ready to begin producing flowers, while the Coprosmas look beautiful just as they are.  I didn't even recognize the first Coprosma flowers I've ever seen.  At first I thought it was an infestation of small caterpillars, but it turned out to be their highly inconspicuous flowers.  They are thrilled by the rain.



This Coprosma was a single rooted stem in a 4" pot a few years ago.  It's about 30" (75 cm) tall and wide now after several years of patient pinching. 



I've been working on this one only since last spring.  Also originally a single stem in a 4" pot:


Many Pelargoniums also benefit greatly from pinching.  It is a good way to start off a newly rooted cane begonia, and for Chrysanthemums it is a must, though because of the pests Chrysanthemums attract here, I do not even try to grow them.  I also confess to pinching a couple of weed-tree seedlings by the side of the road on our daily walk.  I may be able to transform them into bushy shrubs, given enough time and pinching. 

All the pinching gives me something to do while awaiting the roses.  A few are opening.  They are a bit damaged by the several days of off-and-on rain we've had.

'Ebb Tide' is somewhat soggy:


'Glamis Castle' looks quite well despite the rain and inevitable Thrips:





And the rain hasn't damaged Japanese Maple 'Oshio Bene' at all.  It is enjoying all the moisture as it continues to leaf out.  It's about half way though the process now.  

Persnickety Crassula capitella 'Campfire' Is On My Mind Again

Colder than it looks:


I worked more on rehabbing the climbing rose yesterday, but I was tired and it was cold, wet, and muddy out there so I didn't do much, and now the green bins are full again, too.

The Koi were cold too, though not tired:


I also vacuumed, mopped, and dusted the entire house after the drywall guys left.  They have completed some small, necessary changes (long story).  In doing so, they left a layer of dust on everything, but I am happy about the changes.  Now prime and paint:  my job.  No wonder I'm tired.

Before:


After (paint color is not that lurid, flash made it so):


This, too:

   
Tomorrow I'll make another effort on that climber.  We are warned of a significant warm-up ahead, to temperatures in the high 70s F (23-26 C).   I must finish the rose rehab before that happens.  The warmth and the wonderful rain we had the past week will cause the rose to burst forth with new growth very quickly.

* * * * *  

Crassula capitella 'Campfire':


I posted a picture of that Crassula back when I got it (name according to San Marcos, but I'm confused--look at this one--Wow!),  but here it is again because it's been on my mind as I've looked and looked at it while I repotted a lot of succulents the past week or two.  I found some better cultural advice on Campfire Crassula--or more accurately, I finally found some cultural advice on Campfire Crassula--searches last year didn't turn up anything to help my first two copies.  I plan to keep this one alive using knowledge.  Think it will help?

I've killed this plant twice, and am trying again with this one,  the healthiest plant of the three I've bought.  The San Marcos website provided some helpful information:  part sun at most, and moderate but steady moisture.  So it is best close to the mild, cooler coast.  Now I have some guess as how to care for it.  I kept the first two in too much sun with too little water.  I can add to that information:  watch out for Mealies, which killed at least one of the first two I tried.

More exacting requirements than a lot of succulents need here--at least the ones I grow, which are the basics, the common standards. The spot on the front slope I envisioned for Campfire Crassula just won't do:  too hot and arid.  Perhaps in a largish pot on the patio with extra vigilance on the mealy bug front.

Oh that incredible, incredible red.   It really is that screaming vivid crimson in winter.  The red will fade in summer, apparently.  Can I keep it alive until next winter, so I can witness that amazing crimson once again?

The red is just the same shade as Rita's round and glossy nose:



She gets much thought, hope and effort as well.  I'm putting forth all this thought and hope and effort for--a color? 

Speaking of repotting succulents, this Haworthia turned out lovely.  Merely a common big box Haworthia attenuata, but in spite of my careful and lavish attention, it has managed to thrive.



At purchase it was one small rosette in a 2" (50 mm) pot, and I planted it in a large low bowl together with Echeveria 'Black Prince' and a Euphorbia obesa.  The Echeveria was troubled by mealies, but the Haworthia and Euphorb were untouched.  The Euphorb now has its own pot, the Echeveria is far happier in the ground, and the Haworthia has the low bowl to itself.  I've been trying the top-dressing thing, using pumice.  It does make them look finished and elegant.  I'm completely converted--top dressing has now become mandatory for all pots.

An odd story about those two white stones in the bowl.  Back in '00  when the first uphill neighbors moved in, the kids had a large yard with putting green, pool, lawn, etc. at their disposal, but of course they preferred to play on our steep slope, which has a 15' vertical drop to concrete slab.  I chased them off several times because I didn't want to come outside and see a dead kid on the concrete (I'm funny that way). 

One chase-off involved a couple of the kids doing something intently, looking at a small spot on the slope where they had scraped off all my carefully spread mulch.  I went up there later and found those two small white stones.  What play-story had those little boys conjured up out of those stones?  What significance did they have?  I think they pulled them out of the edging around their putting green.  Why? 

I was briefly amused and appreciative at the thought of rich kids with thousands of dollars of toys at hand, playing with a couple of rocks in my dirt.

I pocketed the stones, repaired the mulch as best I could.  Subsequently weeds grew up there because they'd really scraped off a lot of the mulch--maybe I am not so sorry I chased them off multiple times.  I laid the stones down somewhere in the garden, not needing rocks in my pocket at the time.

Forgotten, lost, found again, puzzled over, remembered, discarded with a wry smile, buried, re-spotted when raking, recalled, lost again, sat in mulch for years, rediscovered and remembered.  '00--the kids must be in college (or jail) by now.  Found again I looked at them and instantly knew where the pebbles belonged.

Those two white stones, once intently gazed upon by little boys for reasons known only to them, abandoned when the grouchy neighbor-lady shooed the boys away, now adorn the grouchy lady's Haworthia.  Ain't that mysterious?  Objects have a life of their own, a life which can have twists and turns as strange as ours.  Along the way two pebbles became vessels for an seemingly unimportant yet vivid memory.   Perhaps I  was admiring the unburdened freedom of little-boy living, of playing in the dirt on a sunny day. 

Rehabilitating A Climbing Rose

Before I could rehabilitate the rose, I had to find it. It was buried under a Baccharis. I've blogged enough about my love-hate relationship with Baccharis, (I love to hate it) so I won't say too much about that ordeal.



Last year my subconscious noticed performance dropping off on the lower of the two 'Crépuscule' climbers, seen here in better days.  So much for no care!  It needs some care now, nine or ten years after planting. 

It took a year for my conscious mind to realize what my subconscious long knew: this rose was in decline. It's a little late to prune, but with the rose in this shape, pruning is better than waiting until next January. So yesterday, Baccharis whacking and hacking and chopping ensued, along with an unintentional slide down the slope and some swearing. I discovered a lot of dead rose branches underneath the mass of Baccharis.

Dead, all dead:


More and more of it!


Like a lot of woody plants left to themselves, the rose was a thin layer of green covering a mass of dead stems. The Baccharis was the same way, each branch a long stretch of dead with a bit of green at the tip:


 So much dead material I began to wonder if the enchanted castle of Little Briar-Rose was under there somewhere.  No, no castle appeared.  In this case, the rose itself is what needs to be rescued.

The Baccharis had grown down the slope, then up and over the rose.  The rose had survived by pushing through the fence, gettting enough sun that way to continue.  It allowed the rest of itself to die--no use keeping a cane alive if it isn't getting any sunlight. That 'Crépuscule' looked so good for so long is a testament to what a great cultivar it is.



Where oh where to begin?  I remembered my climbing rose rules, and started by removing all the dead stuff.  I didn't think about anything else, didn't think about what I would do next, didn't think about which canes to save and which to cut.  None of that.  First, the dead stuff. 

It got dark and the dogs were hungry and I still wasn't done.

To be continued...

Just Being Who You Are

White Dogs are good to birds. They may watch them for entertainment's sake, but see no point in chasing them. And with their soft White Dog coats shedding constantly, a snowy condiment on a green lawn, they grace and make snug the homes of baby birds.



You never know who you will end up helping, just being who you are.

Acacia cognana 'Cousin Itt' aka Acacia cognana 'Mini Cor'

Delphiniums at Roger's, exquisite and ephemeral, but always to swoon over:


On Sunday we attended a talk by Monrovia Director Of New Plants, Nicholas Staddon. Mr. Staddon has vast knowledge and love of plants, besides telling stories about his dog Crumpet, the blueberry-eating Westie, and his wife, Sweetie Pie, who may forgive transgressions if presented with Gardenia flowers. Large Gardenia flowers. If you get the chance, don't pass up the opportunity to hear him speak.

Mr. Staddon talked about Monrovia's new introductions, of course, including a new productive blueberry variety, 'Bountiful Blue' (fully approved by Crumpet!), and an alluringly fragrant and beautiful Sasanqua Camellia developed in New Zealand, 'Fairy Dust', but he also wandered around Roger's looking at their inventory, and wanted to point out some other cool new plants, one of which was Acacia cognana 'Cousin Itt', a dwarf weeping version of the small weeping tree Acacia cognana. 'Mini Cor' is the Australian name; here in the US it is being marketed as 'Cousin Itt'.

New baby!


It just so happened I wanted something short-growing and tough for the western slope, where I'm removing some Baccharus infested with stem borers. This Acacia is apparently very reluctant to bloom, which should mean little reseeding. There are enough invasive Acacias in this neighborhood to want to avoid that problem.

At casual glance, the plant slightly resembles the gorgeous Japanese forest grass, Hakonechloa macra, only 'Cousin Itt' is a tough shrub, tolerant of both drought and full blazing sun. This plant nails it. Everything we could want.

We came home with two, half of Roger's entire inventory. If you Google up some images, well grown this plant even has something of an Asian-garden look to it, so it is visually versatile as well as tough. The usual caveats for Australian plants--perfect drainage and no phosphorus. An annual light shearing for best beauty, though if temperatures dip near 25F (-4C), the weather will do it for you.

I'll let you know how it performs. Ain't it gorgeous?

Acacia cognana 'Cousin Itt':


The more I look at it the more I'm considering them for the top of the front slope, where a huge Baccharis needs to be removed, rather than the less visible west slope. Looking around Rogers, their Restios, Chondropetalum elephantinum/ Chondropetalum tectorum(?), looks fabulous topping a slope with the Agaves and Aloes arrayed below.

Sorry about the photo quality, but the wind was howling and I was freezing cold:


Can I pair my own forlorn pot bound Restio with the two 'Cousin Itt's on the top of the slope, with Aloes and Agaves below? I may finally get my woebegone five-years-suffering-in-a-pot Chondropetalum into the ground.

No, I don't know what that gorgeous blooming Aloe is:


The 'Diamond Frost' variegated Ceonothus looked good with the blueish Agaves:


And though it has nothing to do with anything, this Grevillea was so beautiful, even in the howling wind:

Wooly Pockets--Done Right

I've seen some bad Wooly Pocket use. This is not one of those--this example is beautiful:



We went to Roger's on Sunday. It was blustery, cold, and rain threatened. Rare here this late in the rainy season, though in Scotland this type of weather is known as "summer". But the terrific use of Wooly Pockets at the front entrance was worth the shivering. Well grown Bird's Nest (Asplenium) and other ferns, and bromiliads.



Umbrellas were hung upside down in the pitched-roof pavilion. Very cool:


And in a sunny area, an eye-catching companion for Agave 'Joe Hoak' is a variegated Aeonium arborescens and Echeveria agavoides. My 'Joe' is surrounded by blue (Mariana sedifolia and Senecio mandraliscae) and not nearly so effective.



Looks so good! How I wish I had design sense.