Last spring, after hauling several awkward (and heavy) containers up from the basement, my husband Andrew proclaimed: “you really need to stop buying agaves and buy more aloes, they’re nicer.” I have to admit he’s right, aloes have considerably less-lethal spikes than agaves, and they can be just as dramatic in the landscape, even in containers – as I’m forced to grow them in my winter-wet USDA Zone 8 garden. They can however be fairly difficult to find in these parts (Portland, Oregon), something once true of the now, relatively, easy to find agaves that I love.
I always celebrate this season with a tree, of sorts. I can’t imagine not taking advantage of the occasion for a little creative display, and the opportunity to haul things from outdoors inside for a couple of weeks.
I do take liberty with the definition of “tree,” where’s the fun in the expected? In 2009 fresh from a trip to San Francisco, where we fell hard for giant tree ferns, our tree was a potted Dicksonia antarctica. By the time it went outside there were only a few happy fronds left (the indoor humidity was lacking), but it recovered quickly and lives on to this day.
If you’re wondering about that little guy with the big eyes (in front of the tree fern) that’s Tanuki, My husband brought him back from Japan. “The legendary tanuki is reputed to be mischievous and jolly, a master of disguise and shapeshifting, but somewhat gullible and absentminded. It is also a common theme in Japanese art, especially statuary.” (source)
Last summer a small group of Portland garden bloggers played host to 80+ bloggers from around the world. It was a wonderful opportunity to show off our city and its amazing gardening community. In that group were the publisher and editor of my two favorite gardening/plant/horticulture publications, Jim Peterson of Garden Design and Lorene Edwards Forkner of Pacific Horticulture.
That event was the first time I’d met Jim and Valerie Peterson, of (the new) Garden Design Magazine. They were sponsors of the event and graciously donated magazines for the attendees. I was a subscriber to the old Garden Design but completely unprepared for just how fabulous the new magazine is, in fact I hesitate to even call it a magazine, it’s so much more than that (both Garden Design and Pacific Horticulture end up on my bookshelf, so I’m calling them books).
Something Jim said in passing has stuck with me, that it’s all about the experiences, that’s what we remember, the connections we make with fellow human beings. Gardening can be a rather solitary activity but through blogging, facebook groups, local garden clubs, and focused “in-person” meeting opportunities we make these valuable connections. Since publications like Garden Design and Pacific Horticulture help to introduce us to each other, and take us to gardens we might not have the chance to visit in person, I think they play a huge part in our shared experiences. (more…)
I’ve read that more than once recently, I wish I could remember where. The point being, gardeners who rush to tidy up the autumn garden miss out on the winter interest leaving the brown foliage in place can provide.
The sentiment sends me thinking about gardens like this one, where there are lots of seed heads and tall grasses. Not so much my own garden where fallen leaves must be quickly removed so as not to become soggy in the inevitable rain – reducing air circulation around the succulents and increasing the likelihood of rot and death.
While out running errands one day I made a quick stop at the hardware store (not to be confused with a big-box store, after all Winks is the real deal). I was quite surprised to see an extremely healthy Brachyglottis greyi growing beside the parking lot.
That sighting got me all nostalgic for my own Brachyglottis greyi which just up and died last August…
You know the saying “good fences make good neighbors?” Well, I believe good fences also make good gardens. When we first moved to Portland the house we rented had low (3ft) tall fences in the back yard, as did the next few houses in line. No privacy, and no consistency. My idea of a great garden doesn’t include leggy roses and 1970’s project cars, yet by default they were part of my rental garden.
“From humble beginnings as a backyard hobby 20 years ago, “Annie’s” has evolved into a 2 ½-acre “growing” nursery here in Richmond, CA (across the Bay from San Francisco). We provide plants to about 60 independent retail nurseries and open our doors for retail shopping here at the mothership, 9-5, 7 DAYS a week! For fellow Plant-a-Holics living far away, we also offer our plants by mail order.”
Before blogs there were books. Or maybe I should say, before I read so many blogs I read a lot more books.
I have mixed emotions when I look at the 3 nooks where I keep my unread garden-related books. There is excitement and anticipation, I can tell you when, where, and why I purchased each title (or put them on my wishlist, from which they were purchased for me, by others). There is also a little guilt and regret, why haven’t I read them already! I must read them!
There are many popular internet memes for Garden Bloggers who wish to participate: Bloom Day, Foliage Follow-up and Wordless Wednesday, to name just three. On my personal blog, danger garden, I’ve never missed a Bloomday, frequently join in the foliage fun and have occasionally been wordless on a Wednesday. I have, however, never participated in In a Vase on Monday, and that’s a shame.
Why? I am a firm believer in bringing pieces of the garden into the house, especially in the winter months when we’re not outside (as much anyway) to enjoy.
In June of 2013 I was part of a group of Garden Bloggers (“The Fling”) who visited the Wave Garden in Point Richmond, CA. I was awestruck by the garden and vowed to return the next time I was in the Bay Area. That first visit was on an extremely hot day and the garden was filled with dozens of other bloggers, all fondling the plants and scouting for the perfect shot. This time there was a lovely breeze coming up off the bay and I was the only person in the garden. It was heaven.
