A mass of Aloe maculata(?) flowers caught my attention as I drove to the post office.
The aloes are thriving as part of a worn-out landscape in front of a motel that caters to people who are one step away from being homeless. The Aloes are healthy:
And so is a mass of Agave attenuata:
There is a bit of ice plant that looks good:
But the junipers, probably planted in the 70's, are worn out, though someone has tried (and failed?) to make them look decent:
There is an area that at one time was probably lawn. Someone scattered some nice looking boulders over it--to keep cars from parking there? Someone weed-whips the weeds that act as a lawn. It could not possibly be mowed:
Amidst the boulder lawn, there was a big Agave americana that someone tried to kill. It's coming back:
I meditated on a weary, worn out landscape surviving in front of a building sheltering weary, desperate people.
There is potential for improvement, surely. In the planter, I would remove the pathetic junipers, everything but the thriving Aloes, Agaves, and ice plant. I would cut myself some Agave attenuata pups, and dig up some of the Aloes, leaving a bit of space. I'd alternate groups of Aloes and A. attenuatas, with a boulder or two, and a bit of ice plant edging. In the "lawn" area, I'd kill off the weed "lawn" in between the boulders a little at a time, replacing it with ice plant. As the ice plant spread, I'd remove more and more "lawn" until it was just boulders and ice plant, with perhaps some pieces of flagstone for steppers. Plant budget: zero. A bottle of Roundup for the "lawn", $20. A few flagstones for $20. A fresh viewpoint, plus a bit of labor, time, and patience. A cost of $40, tops. That's what I would do to make it look better. The big problem is not the landscaping, of course. It's the people one step away from being homeless. There is potential there, surely, for better things. $40 might give a family with children shelter for a night. Better spent? If you can't solve a hard problem, do you solve an easy one instead?
The Madiera geranium are ridiculously early this year.
The Iris are on time.
I've noticed that over the years, the Cerinthe bracts are less blue and more purple. I bought one packet of seeds ten years ago, and the garden has had a wealth of reseeded volunteers ever since. But less and less blue.
The Galvezia, an April '11 purchase, is blooming.
So is 'The Prince'.
'Brass Band' is bigger than ever.
The next photo is my leaving-home view, what I see pulling out of the driveway. Some very good roses of ours, and the neighbor's Abelias, sheared into globes. The Abelia's natural shape is that of a fountain, spraying outward from a central point, and the flowers are hummingbird favorites. The neighbor's Abelias do not bloom, being sheared. The eclair-shaped Bougainvillea I can do without, but unnatural they may be, I love the silvery sheen on the Abelia globe-tops when struck by early morning light. I have hummingbird flowers everywhere, to make up for the neighbor's sheared Abelias.
He'll sit there for an hour, holding that ball. He likes that ball. Look at his adorably fat pink toes.
And that is the miscellany for Friday.
Sleep deprivation has been making the world look distorted the past few days. With roses, rain does the same thing: 'Cressida' is ragged and sagging from Sunday's rainfall:
'Julia Child' looks as though it's been carved out of cold butter:
Souvenir de la Malmaison is looking particularly OGR-ish, frail and pale and dewed:
Clematis 'The President' is awake. For Clematis here, rain is the prince's kiss. It looks better than it ever has: three feet (1 M) tall, with at least a half dozen buds. After years of being a few inches tall, three feet is impressive. 'The President' is a massive Clematis in places other than this bit of Eden.
I should be napping instead of gardening, but at least the Winter Project is moving forward. The slope is almost cleared:
The lower area is mulched and awaiting the 'Reed' avocado I ordered. It will go where the bucket sits, and provide summer Avocados.
Our 'Fuerte' provides winter Avocados; lovely, but there are no fresh homegrown tomatoes to accompany 'Fuerte'. Lonely without tomatoes:
The cleared Project area provided a fresh view of the Agonis tree, under planted with Hippeastrum bulbs from Christmas a decade back. This was originally two bulbs:
The problem with a beautifully cleared-out area is that suddenly you have all kinds of ideas for it--a dozen new roses would fit! It is difficult to hold on to reason and stick to plan. A good thing I ordered that 'Reed' without delay. Back upstairs, 'Oshio Bene' is half-leafed out,
and reflected in the rainwater tub, somewhat distorted.
A nap, and the puppies and day look better.
Boris:
Natasha:
You have a problem with that?
Surely it is not an uncommon fear of the garden blogger. You are taking photos in the neighborhood, possibly of something badly pruned, and the homeowner comes out and asks you if there is a problem. Well, as a matter of fact, yes, with the way you mutilated this Cycas revoluta:
Actually, I didn't say that. Instead, we had a nice conversation about palms and cycads. We both shared a loathing of the California Weed Palm, Washingtonia robusta. I admired the group of Archontophoenix cunninghamiana lining the walkway to his front door (they were beautiful), and I asked him about a similar palm I could not identify, several fine specimens of which lined the outer edge of his lawn. Another Archontophoenix? He called it a "Taiwanese" palm, which gave me no clue. I thought maybe Archontophoenix alexandrae. If you know, please tell. Update: it's Roystonia regia, the Cuban Royal Palm. Well, Taiwan and Cuba are both islands...
What fascinated me was the homeowner's sincere affection and pride in his palm collection ("I have twenty more kinds in the back!") coupled with a very firm "I want low maintenance!" attitude. I've always thought "low maintenance" meant "I have no clue what that plant is, and I don't care." However this homeowner was quite different. He loved his palm collection; he simply didn't want to fuss over his palm collection. I felt the better for the conversation, and didn't mention the Cycad at all.
It occured to me later that I have much the same attitude as the palm-owner about growing tomatoes. I love tomatoes, I want tomatoes, but I don't want to fuss about them. No search for new special heirloom varieties every year. No pouring over descriptions of succulent caramel flavor overtones or balanced acids or green stripes. No tomato tasting, no special seed purchases or trades. I don't care. Any home grown tomato, even the fruits produced by the chance seedlings deposited by a bird's back end, is going to taste pretty wonderful, and light years better than any bought tomato, even any farmer's market organic heirloom. Or so I have found. I've tried heirlooms, yes, and they are wonderful, and the plant produces two small fruit, then sits there the rest of the season. The heck with heirlooms. I want...yield!
So I buy the cheapest big-box six-packs I can find, and look for packs with two or three tomatoes in each cell. And they grow, produce a lot of fruit, and we are happy. This means I am not a Real Tomato Gardener. I am a Tomato atheist. No mystery, no hope, no faith in the next new Messiah of flavor. Give me Better Boy, Early Girl, Celebrity, Beefsteak, Mortgage Lifter, the Washingtonia robustas of the tomato world. Give me yield.
Today I got a couple of $1.78 four-packs at Lowe's, instead of the $3.99 for each plant I've been seeing this year. Almost every cell of my four-packs had more than one seedling--my two four-packs yielded (that word again!) fifteen plants. So, I was able to appreciate the palm owner a little more. Why fuss? There is room in the garden for the...easy! I only wish he'd moved the Cycas revoluta away from the sidewalk, instead of hacking it, and come to think of it, his beautiful "Taiwanese" palms are soon to be hitting the power lines above them, and sadly, will probably be removed by the electric company. But no way am I ever paying $3.99 for a tomato seedling.
This puppy thing may simply be a sleep-deprivation experiment. Oh, to sleep in, languorously, luxuriously, to the unimaginably indulgent hour of Six A.M! It has not been happening. Hence I've been in a haze. I found myself this afternoon nodding off multiple times while going through photos. Rain is predicted for Sunday, so I did the usual things we gardeners do in preparation: a potted plant or two went into the ground, a few transplants made, some fertilizer thrown around, and mulch laid down to squelch the sprouting of weeds, all done slowly, to avoid re-injuring whatever it was I injured, and in a sleepy haze. More roses are coming on line.
'Sweet Vivian':
'Tradescant':
The first couple of 'Evelyn's for 2012:
'Jude The Obscure':
'English Garden', always an exquisitely perfect arrangement of tiny petals, a buff flower born of a red bud:
'Purple Splash' has no buds at all, but does sport a fat new basal:
'Yves Piaget' looks better shaded than in the bright sun of yesterday:
A sweet cluster of 'Bill Warriner'...
...and 'George Burns':
As the roses begin, Aloe 'Blue Elf' is nearly finished blooming:
While the Calandrinia is in full swing:
Haze or not, let the rain begin! My pails and buckets and tubs and bins await.
'Flaming Peace' is a color sport of 'Peace'. It is the same in almost every way as the original 'Peace' rose, except for the color. 'Flaming Peace' retains the 'Peace' yellow on the reverse of the flower petals, while the front of the petals is a velvety red to purple, depending on the weather.
The other way I have observed in which 'Flaming Peace' differs from the original is the flower's ability to hold up in warm weather. The original does a far better job. 'Flaming Peace' blows quickly and shrivels in temperatures above about 72F (22 C). And...how can "Peace" flame?
Still, the distinctive color is irresistible. 
Nearby, 'Christopher Marlowe' shows his yellow button eye.
And next to Chris, 'Redoute' looks very fine, and without the mildew that will soon enough develop and mar its beauty:
I spent most of the morning raking and raking the Winter Project area into an even, level condition. I was happy not to have to lug any more soil around.
The very sad little Nandina 'Fire Power's that were removed to make way for plastic grass I planted as an edging to the stairway. If they recover and thrive, great. If not, not much lost.
Finished with the raking, I noticed 'Golden Celebration' looking like a lemon tree with all its yellow globes:
The "Dutch" Iris are a their peak:
And when I got back up out of the gully, sleepy Boris slowly woke up to greet me. When he is very, very sleepy, his little tongue sticks out.
I was so fortunate to spend the day thus.
