It’s conifer season, and high time I tackle this topic. Oh, I’ve tried before, but every time I undertake Conifers 101, I get overwhelmed with how much there is to learn. I’m determined to stick with it this time. (Note to self: stop trying to learn everything at once, and re-read Bird by Bird, by Anne LaMott.)
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Throw a wee winter storm my way, and apparently I’m done with the garden. I thought I’d be better, get out there and do this and that. Then I told myself, it’d be a good time to turn my interest toward indoor plants. Some challenges have ensued. But outdoors, the speed with which I lose interesting is astounding. Does that happen to other people? (more…)
Proximity to mountain, valley, and ocean is high on the list of Portland grooviness. Every year around this time, I go on a retreat with my fellow Book Babes. We’ve been making the trek for twenty years now, and almost without fail, we get glorious weather for our fall outings. We’ve seen great November weather loads of times at the Coast; and at Black Butte Ranch near Bend; and at Domaine Margelle Vineyard in the Willamette Valley; and even in Mosier, a little town east of Hood River the Columbia Gorge. I saw my first covey of quails in Mosier. So exciting.
Truth be told, I’m having trouble sticking with the Plan, big P plan. Oh, I’m weeding and shopping and planting, but I seem to be happiest muddling my way through without a blueprint. But see all that grass up there, I can do better.
A glorious Echium pininana arose in a place of its choosing; a seed that hitched a ride from our Alameda garden. I love exactly where it decided to grow.
I planted a Verbascum ‘Artic Summer’ in my last garden, and the next year it seeded itself next to an Agave ‘Silver Surfer’. A brilliant pairing, and not exactly my idea. I do it on purpose now, but the plant taught me where it should go; it showcased how big velvety leaves compliment rigid Agave spikes.
I also LOVE this combination of Sempervivums and Sedums. The planter was intended as a sink. I found it in the free pile after a street sale in my old neighborhood. All these sedums were rescued from the old garden. I tossed them in this outcast as a temporary measure. There were two free sinks, and I’ve yet to use the second one, but I’ve got plans–in that I plan to use it.
This Concordia neighborhood has the kind of trees and plants so common when I was growing up on Mallory Avenue—in the Boise Elliot neighborhood a mile away. Oh sure, people gardened, but other than my Grandmother who loved Dahlias, I didn’t know anyone with the kind of plant passion so many of us share today.
There were Monkey Puzzle Trees and roses, maples and elms, and tomato plants in summer. My grandfather loved tomatoes, and once produced a two-pounder. He grew clover as a cover crop, and told me he did it for the rabbits.
I went thru a period wherein I never left a nursery without a grass or sedge in hand, usually several. I just couldn’t pass them up. I’d pop them in here and there in the garden, and loved watching them wave their wild arms in the breeze. I planted a couple Stipa tenuissima years ago, and those little critters, what performers. Some worry about their promiscuous inclinations, but they’re so easy to pull if you really feel inclined. And the new growth color, could anything be lovelier.
Before we moved to Flamingo Park, I’d been focused primarily on living in the new environs—what it would be like to be in a different house and not know every inch of the garden. It was so hard to imagine leaving our home of 33 years—in an area I’d been walking for 25 years, where I recognized almost everyone I encountered, and they recognized me. I knew the time and distance of every route. What was in bloom where. Which fruit laden shrubs were Cedar Waxwings favorites. I fully expected to miss it all—my great neighbors, who put up with me planting things in their yards; Beaumont Market, aka 5 p.m. Gossip Central; the fabulous and funny women at The Arrangement, gems, the lot.
But I’m happy to report, though I still think of my familiar haunts, I don’t exactly pine for them. It’s just different now. And the best part, I hadn’t even begun to appreciate how much I’d love exploring a brand new neighborhood.
For moving plants indoors.
And do you think I have a plan?
NO–even though I swore.
Agave–Aloe–Cabbage Tree,
Shinning hardwood floors.
Tempting foliage all around,
And kitty cats who soar–
I really meant to draw up a blueprint for Flamingo Park Gardens, develop a strategy, make a definite plan—on paper. And if wishes were horses…
I seem to be buying plants, quite a few plants, and working the “plan” outward from there. Oh, I can hear professional garden designers yelling into the universe: NO, don’t go about it that way. But can you blame me, really? A large part of our mission here at plant lust is to support independent nurseries. It’s my job, not to mention, there are Fall Plant SALES. I just got another email from a neighborhood favorite, Garden Fever, a sweet nursery, not too big, but with a well-curated selection of plants. Why, it’d be criminal to not to participate. And it’s time for the Cistus Nursery tough love sale. What’s a gardener to do? Shop, that’s what! (more…)
Winter is nigh, at least for planting purposes. Seems I’m always playing catch up, thinking I have more time than I do. Reminds me of my annual holiday anticipation. Waiting and planning and imagining Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire, and then suddenly, nothing left to do but ske-the-deck-daddle.
Thusly, I decided a wee survey for winter interest was in order, and I was happy to discover I have several plants ready to do any winter garden proud. (I love ADD: makes for such nice surprises every time I go into the garden.)