(Nearly) Wordless Wednesday

Rosa 'Brass Band'


I drove out yesterday to get another shot of this hellstrip, only to see the Aloes were blooming.  Surprise!


The Aloes are blooming at home, too.  This one is off and on, summer or winter.  I can't remember the species at the moment.  It starts with an "m":


Cameronii waking up after resting all summer:


And maybe-Ferox continues to progress.  We're expecting 60-80 mph winds in the next day or two.  I hope the still-soft flower stems don't snap off.   





The tippy-tops of the Agave towers are finally opening, so open blooms may be imminent .   These guys, I think, can survive the wind.   I know the roses will not. 

I'd Rather Be Studying Agave Leaves

A. titanota, with Opuntia microdaysis (or is it Opuntia rufida?) in the background.  "Titanota" means "alabaster white".


This Agave titanota has a ghostly mid stripe.  Oooh!  I want that one! 


Not titanota (unless it is F076):


The irrigation change from sprinkler to drip is complete in the fall project area.  I tested the changes, and discovered the sprinklers I capped off are leaking, and the sprinklers I replaced with dripper manifolds don't drip.  Sigh.  But as Katie Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler said, "Tomorrow is another day!", so I'll think about that tomorrow.  

Now that the project area is just about empty, I'm considering the views into the space.   I'd really like something in the spot marked by that potted blueberry, to focus the eye on something besides the neighbor's roof.  Though...I see the neighbor's Magnolia grandiflora is beginning to do the job, isn't it?  Except I've hinted to the neighbor that those Magnolia grandiflora roots will eventually undermine the retaining wall that keeps our property from collapsing and crushing the neighbor's garage, a point they seemed to appreciate.  The original Magnolia there was a 'Little Gem', not the full sized species.  But 'Little Gem' died, and was replaced with the species.  Always something.  You just want to look at something besides the neighbor's roof when walking out to pick tomatoes, but everything is so complicated! 



From the other entrance to the project area, the same pot in the same spot.  Here, something is needed to screen out, or draw attention away from, the neighbor's bathroom window.  Somehow windows are like staring eyes, even when it's a window no one looks out from.  At least I hope no one looks out that window and sees me scowling at it.  I need a screen there, for the neighbor's sake, if not my own.  No, for my own sake, too. 



I thought about a dwarfish (8 feet, maybe 3 M) citrus tree for that spot, which would screen out one neighbor's roof as viewed from the front entrance, and also screen the other neighbor's bathroom window as viewed from the other entrance.  

An alternative might be a pair or trio of tallish, narrowish shrubs, perhaps Pittosporum 'Marjorie Channon', on the other side of the wall, which would  provide the screening, but not the focal point.  Screening shrubs for each entrance.  The focal point would then become some sort of urn, fountain, statue, or other such object, inside the wall, in the project "room".  

I think about this stuff carefully, and drive myself nuts with it.  Why do people think about the strange things they think about?  No wonder I'd rather be studying Agave leaves.   
 
 

Infrastructure Isn't Glamorous

Infrastructure isn't glamorous, but we cannot do without it.  This part of the fall project was the irrigation upgrade.  Some sprinkler heads were switched out for drippers, others were unnecessary and were capped off. Sprinkler...

...to dripper:

The switch may not save a lot of water, but it will save some.  In addition, some of the sprinkler spray hits the stucco walls.  Wasteful and damaging.  Since water is the enemy of stucco, getting rid of the sprinklers will prolong the stucco life.  Infrastructure isn't glamorous, but it matters.

Needing a break from the muddy tedium of digging up pipes, I turned to a little deadheading.  Lopping off a tall cane of 'Tamora', I suddenly discovered something firmly grabbing my sleeve.  A panicked screech and flail of surprise followed.  Something flew off my sleeve and onto the pavement.  I discovered it was my little buddy the Mantid that I photographed several weeks ago.   She's still around!  

Luckily, she appeared uninjured.  However, she looked as startled as I felt.  My panic nearly turned to fear and anger.  If it had, I might have crushed her with my shoe, or cut her head off with my secateurs.  And thus become, in miniature, a monster.  I managed to chose not to do that.  I took some deep breaths instead, then found and extended a leaf, which she grabbed hold of, and used the leaf to carefully lift and place her back into some foliage, where she'd be safe while recovering from her encounter with me, the hapless giant. 
  
The garden is my little domain wherein I have the power of life and death.  I make the choices here.  I am the dictatorial general, the ruthless plutocrat of this garden.  Mantids, climbing roses, dandelions, live or die by my hand.  I can build infrastructure and balance into my world; use thought instead of anger, or....destroy the innocent.


The powerful are either careful to stay mindful of the effects of their power, or they choose to become monsters.   Even in a little garden, just as in the wider world.  We can choose to build, or we can choose to destroy.

Four Roses

'Easy Does It':

'William Morris':

'Firefighter':

'Black Bacarra':

Soil, Mulched, vs. Soil, Native

A few hundred thousand years ago, this garden was a silty river delta. Today, with the river long-gone, the silt remains and forms the native soil.  Mulched regularly over 12 years, the native soil (the lighter yellowy clods) became the darker color through the work of earthworms slowly incorporating the mulch into the soil over time. 

The transformed soil has tiny air pockets, organic content, greater nutrient content, and stays moister longer than the original, all without any effort on the gardener's part besides the tossing of the mulch.  Sometimes, not even that.

There's The Bloom! Yay! Of Aloe-Maybe-Ferox

I just noticed Aloe-maybe-ferox has its first flower.  Now maybe I'll be able to identify what species it is, or is not.  See the flower?


No?  There it is!




Tips of a couple are damaged.  No sign of Aloe mite, though.  There appeared to be a tiny bit of Earwig damage also, but Earwigs I can deal with.  


I've been waiting several years for this plant to flower, and am really looking forward to seeing it.  Now I hope I haven't jinxed my chances by getting my hopes up.  The easiest way to ruin your chances is to get your hopes up.

Also in the long-awaited blooms department, the Agave desmettianas continue.  I tried shooting photos of the mighty flower stalk from a different angle, being inspired by the most excellent tree photo by b-a-g here (link),  b-a-g blogs here (link).



b-a-g gets the texture of the trunk at the bottom of his photo much better, doesn't he?  And perhaps my cloudy sky distracts.  I'm thinking that the photo might also be more effective without the Chamelaucium flowers there at the bottom of the frame.  I'll have to try more shots.  Luckily, Agave bloom life being what it is, I have weeks (probably months) to get around to trying more angles.  

Graptoveria amethorum (Echeveria purpusorum x Graptopetalum amethystinum

I am guessing that this is Graptoveria amethorum, which is cross between Echeveria purpusorum and  Graptopetalum amethystinum.  Shouldn't it, technically, be Graptoveria 'Amethorum', in the same way that Echeveria x imbricata should be Echeveria 'Imbricata'?     Nice plant of an silvery grey-green color, apparently easy to rot.  Uh oh.  No water for you this winter, honey. 


 
I like the fatty plumpness of the leaves.

Fall Project Update

Now is the time to move Camellias, since they are blooming.  A blooming Camellia means the roots are somewhat dormant, the right time to try a relocation.  I'm still moving plants out of the project "room", and messing with the irrigation system.  I moved a formerly shrub Camellia japonica that I trimmed into standard some time ago to this shadier spot.  It has no place in the new version of the "project room", and the foliage and flowers were always sun burnt in the old location, anyway.  It may do better here, where it will be more shaded, and I like the height it gives, floating above the big daylily clump.  Unfortunately I photographed it at an odd angle.  It looks tilted, but is really quite vertical--or more vertical than that, anyway.


The formerly shrub Camellia sasanqua has always been in the wrong spot.  Now who would plant what is destined to become a small tree right in front of a window?  It wasn't I, it was professional landscapers getting sloppy because they were at the end of a months long project and were in a hurry to finish.  Last winter I limbed it up into a standard because it was jammed into that corner, doing no one any good, not even itself.  I've been prowling around the yard for a week now trying to figure out where I can plant it. 


I could just trash it, but it's made a cool standard that I think will continue to improve.  Not only did I limb it up last year, I also topped it--it was 12' tall, I think.  I don't want to trash it.  That low shrubby C. sasanqua next to it needs a new spot as well.  There is also a volunteer Ligustrum japonicum, splendidly healthy, growing in the low sasanqua as well.  I might have myself a free shrub for a big pot on the balcony.   

November Foliage

Thanks to the Pam Penick at Digging blog for hosting "Foliage Follow Up"!


Here, we get nothing like the spectacular fall foliage color of New England.  If we get the merest touch of red or yellow, it's cause for notice.  This year our Japanese Maple had a touch of autumn red for the very first time since we planted it about ten years ago. 

It's been a colder than normal November.  Even the blueberry plants have a touch of color for the first time:

A few plants here are reliably red or gold. Ginko foliage turns gold every year, a gold that holds on the trees for weeks.  Parthenocissus tricuspidata turns red most years in sunny locations:


But I am perfectly content to see green all winter, and not feel the bite of frost.  The grasses here are tawny from lack of rain, not frost.  Muhlenbergia rigens:


Some Aloes will develop red foliage in cooler weather.  Aloe dorotheae does:


Echeverias change according to light rather than temperature, unless the temperature gets cold enough to turn them to mush.  :(
 
 Luckily, that is even more rare than fall color on the Japanese maples  Light is what effects Echeveria color.  My plants get more sun in the cooler weather of winter, and some develop intense lavender color, something I look forward to every year. 

Clockwise from noon, E. colorata, E. unknown, E. cante, E. lilacina, and E. secunda(?): 


Yeah baby!


Not that Maples are so bad...

November Garden Blogger Bloom Day

Many thanks to Maydreamsgardens for Garden Blogger Bloom Day!

No shortage of November blooms in Southern California. Not only are roses still going strong, but some Hemerocallis are throwing up new bloom spikes. Camellias and winter-blooming Aloes have begun, due to our two excellent rains in October, and a little additional rain in early November. Cup runneth over!

Roses going strong. 'Tea Clipper':


'Top Notch':


'Medallion':


The yellow version of Aloe arborescens is just getting started:


Aloe vanbalenii is going to bloom for the first time!


Our recent rains knocked all the old brown bracts off the Bougainvillea, and helped it produce a new round of flowers:


'Brake Lights' Hesperaloe, a new plant for me:


Crassula 'Campfire', colored green for summer, will soon begin to redden due to cooler night temperatures.


A full length shot of the Agave desmettianas. The plants themselves have lost almost half their height as they are absorbed by the needs of the inflorescence.


And Ye Olde Common dwarf Gaillardia 'Goblin'. After seeing Gold Finches come to eat the seeds, I don't deadhead them as meticulously as I used to. I leave some for the Finches.


A shrub Grevillea in a neighbor's yard, with a background of Echeveria subridgida:


Tagetes lemonii continues spectacular behind the Dasylirion:


It's huge this year:


I'd be happy if the Senecio never bloomed at all. Yuck. But late afternoon light made it more interesting.


The Chamelaucium hybrid from Australia has been a bee magnet the past few weeks. Plenty of nectar for them.

I didn't even get to the Camellias and Hemerocallis.  Maybe in December.  Happy Bloom Day!