Saskatoon
Of eighteen species that are native to North America, only two are native to California. Of these two, only one is native locally. However, some of the few nurseries that sell various saskatoons market them as native. Obviously, most are not. A few are hybrids. All of them are species of Amelanchier, and are still rare here. Their common names are numerous.
Serviceberry, sarvisberry or sarvis may be some of the more common of common names. Shadbush, shadwood or shadblow may be less common. Juneberry, chuckley pear, wild plum and sugarplum are likely regional names. They are more familiar where winters are cooler. Some sorts do not perform well locally because they prefer a bit more winter chill.
Saskatoons are locally popular primarily for their fruit, and only among a few enthusiasts. They are more available online than in nurseries. The fruits are pommes like tiny apples, but are only the size of blueberries. They ripen to blackish purple for summer. Their early spring flowers are like wispy apple flowers. Most Saskatoons grow less than ten feet tall. Some rarer types can grow thirty feet tall in favorable climates.
Irrigation Resumes With Drier Weather
Spring, in several regards, is like autumn in reverse, or vice versa. Bloom increases for spring but decreases for autumn. Foliage increases for spring but decreases for autumn. The two seasons are in opposition. In this chaparral climate, the rainy season that began last autumn ends now. Irrigation that became redundant then becomes necessary now.
Diminishing rain is not the only reason that irrigation becomes more important for spring. Spring weather also becomes warmer and more arid, or less humid. Warmth and aridity increase evaporation of moisture that rain deposited not long ago. Increasing day length, intensifying sunlight and warmth accelerate plant growth. Such growth consumes water.
This need for moisture is progressive, though. Vegetation certainly requires more water as the weather becomes warmer and drier. However, it does not yet require as much as it will require later during summer. By then, the weather will be even warmer and drier, and the days will be even longer. Irrigation should increase accordingly in regard to weather.
Unfortunately, there are no simple formulas to determine how much irrigation is needed. Some vegetation with shallow roots may require frequent but moderate irrigation. Some vegetation with deep roots may prefer less frequent but more copious irrigation. Rain is possible at any time. It can briefly interfere with the most efficient of irrigation schedules.
Soil also affects irrigation. Sandy soils drain efficiently, but do not retain much moisture. This may not be a problem for some species that tolerate occasionally dry soil. It may be more of a concern for species that prefer more regularly moist soil, though. Dense soils retain more moisture, but do not drain as efficiently. Soil amendments can improve soils.
Manual irrigation is easier to monitor than automated irrigation, but can be tedious. That is why most irrigation is automated nowadays. Automation is more likely to be excessive than insufficient. Desiccation, wilting and other symptoms of insufficiency of irrigation are obvious. Symptoms of saturation may not become obvious until too late for remediation.
Parasite
Mistletoe, Phoradendron leucarpum, suddenly and inexplicably disappeared from local ecosystems several years ago. Although it was unlikely completely gone, no one could find any. Carcasas of deceased specimens deteriorated and fell slowly in pieces from their host trees. Regeneration has been a very slow process, and in some local ecosystems, does not seem to be happening at all.
If botanists are aware of what happened to the mistletoe, they are not sharing what they know. Arborists are amazed by such sudden death of mistletoe that they had been unable to eliminate from infested trees. Some believe that it was the result of distress of host trees. However, it is unlikely that all host trees, including many within cultivated and irrigated landscapes, could have been so similarly distressed at the same time. Disease could be the primary culprit. There is even a possibility that mistletoe, the most familiar plant parasite, succumbed to another parasite.
Similar die off of various species of mistletoe has been observed within various other ecosystems, at various times, and with various rates of recovery. Perhaps several factors are involved, either individually or in any variety of combination. Because mistletoe is generally considered to be undesirable, investigation of such die off is minimal.
I noticed this particular mistletoe within the same Oregon white oaks in Oregon that I wrote about yesterday. It seems to be adequately healthy and unaffected by whatever killed mistletoe here. I do not remember if it had died off previously, and is now recovering. For all I know, it could be in the process of dying off right now. Mistletoe might be more efficiently controlled or even eliminated from infested trees within cultivated landscapes if someone could identify what kills it naturally. After all, it is a famously persistent and potentially very distressing parasite.
Oakland
Oakland, fifty miles north of here, was named for the oaks that formerly inhabited it. Imagine that! Although valley oak, Quercus lobata, is native, and assumed to be the origin of the regional name, coast live oak, Quercus agrifolia, was likely more abundant there at the time.
Of the many other towns in California with horticultural names, a few are also named for unspecified oaks, including del Rey Oaks, Oakdale, Oakley and Thousand Oaks. Encinitas, Live Oak and the Encino neighborhood of Los Angeles are named more specifically for coast live oak. Paso Robles is named more specifically for valley oak.
Oakland and Oakridge are the only two towns that I could find in Oregon that are named for Oaks. I suspect that Oakland is named for Oregon white oak, Quercus garryana, only because that is the most prominent species of oak there. It is also native here, although I am not aware if I have ever encountered it locally. It resembles small specimens of valley oak, which, incidentally, is also known as California white oak.
This picture of a few main limbs of an exemplary specimen of Oregon white oak is from Cabin Creek Rest Stop on Southbound Highway 5, just north of Oakland in Oregon. To me, it looks sort of Californian, like something that, a long time ago, was more prominent in Oakland here in California, on ‘the Bright Side of the Bay’.
Six on Saturday: Double Whammy!
Rhody, Carson and I are back from vacation. Now I see that I did not get many pictures
1. If this looks like the same major stockpile of vegetation from Skooter’s Garden (Tangly Cottage Gardening) that I posted a picture of last week, it is because it is. The difference is that it is here at home now. Goodness, it will be a busy week of division and plugging.
2. Cerinthe seed are in the pill bottle to the lower right of the previous picture. So is that obstinate pill to the left. I should have tried cerinthe by now, and this is my justification.
3. Poinciana and esperanza seed from Crazy Green Thumbs are the second of my double whammy! They were likely in my mail before we left on vacation, but we left town before the Post Office was open. Shamefully, they will be my second attempt for both species. It is a long and embarrassing story. This particular poinciana is more commonly known as dwarf poinciana, Caesalpinia pulcherrima. This particular esperanza is more commonly known as yellow bells, Tecoma stans. ‘Esperanza’ means ‘hope’, which I have enough of.
4. My vacation was scheduled to be as late in winter as possible but prior to the bloom of apple trees because I intended to prune eleven apple trees while still dormant. All eleven trees are pruned, and their formerly fresh detritus is gone. Sweet Brown would approve.
5. Bonsai stock is what my Pa grows on his farm where the pruned apple trees and other old fruit trees live. Goodness, I really should have stayed later, and taken more pictures.
6. Star magnolia performs very well in the Pacific Northwest. I rarely see them any more than five feet tall locally. This is an awkward picture because I took it from a moving car.
This is the link for Six on Saturday, for anyone else who would like to participate: https://thepropagatorblog.wordpress.com/2017/09/18/six-on-saturday-a-participant-guide/
Sky Lupine
If California poppy were not the State Flower of California, sky lupine, Lupinus nanus, might be. Even though the perfect blue of sky lupine is the opposite of the perfect orange of California poppy, both of these brightly colorful flowers have several similarities, and are often sown together in autumn or winter for their early spring bloom. Both are native to western North America, but are very commonly displaced by exotic (non native) plants. As natives, they can easily self sow if competing specie are controlled. Both are satisfied with annual rainfall. As long as they are not watered too much in poorly draining soils, they are not too discriminating about soil. They do want full sun though.
Sky lupine is an annual that does not get very large, no more than two feet high and half as wide. It seems to be more colorful where it is kept less than a foot high by good sun exposure and wind. The finely textured, palmately compound foliage (divided into smaller leaflets that are arranged in a palmate pattern) gives it width, but only the lower half of its height. The upper half is its narrow spikes of small, neatly arranged ‘pea-shaped’ flowers.
Weeding Season
My garden may lack the sort of ‘riot of color’ that landscapers like to promote to achieve the other popular cliché of a ‘tranquil garden retreat’, but is the victim of a different kind of violence. The desirable plants and undesirable weeds are about as compatible as the terms ‘riot’ and ‘tranquil’ are. Recently, the weeds have been gaining ground in the ongoing battle between the two. In another heroic effort to help the plants that I want in my garden, I will soon venture onto the battlefield to do what I can to defeat the weeds. The native sky lupine, California poppy, California fescue and some sort of native iris would otherwise be displaced by the invading oat grass, oxalis, burclover and sowthistle.
Different weeds invade other areas. Perennial weeds like nutsedge, dandelion, Bermuda grass, bindweed and brambles (blackberry) are among the worst in most areas. Annuals like purslane and spruge can be just as troublesome though. I really dislike the various twining vetches, even though they are good for the soil. Pampas grass, giant reed, blue gum eucalyptus, black acacia and Acacia dealbata are the largest weeds and the most difficult to battle.
All of the weeds that I need to contend with pull out easily while the soil is still damp from winter rains. If I do not pull them now though, they will be difficult to pull as the soil dries. Broom, the nastiest weed in my garden, comes out relatively easily now, but is ridiculously hard to pull from dry soil. Brambles and poison oak also come out easier now like the rest of the weeds, but are of course always difficult to handle.
Sometimes, if I do not have enough time to pull all the weeds in an area, I at least like to keep them from spreading if possible. If I cut annual oat grass down with a weed whacker before it blooms and sets seed, it is unable to reproduce to replace itself before it dies at the end of its season. This also works for sowthistle. Dandelion is perennial, so does not die at the end of its season, but will not spread so aggressively without its flowers or seed.
This has not worked so well with other weeds. Spurge sets seed before I catch it. Yellow oxalis and nutsedge reproduce more profusely by offsets than by seed. Bermuda grass is a creeping perennial that does not mind if it loses its seed. Burclover and bindweed are so low to the ground that pulling them is the only option. Broom and the various weed trees may initially be deprived of their seed, but are harder to pull when they regenerate after getting cut back.
Regardless of what it takes, this is the best time of year to get weeds under control. Later in the season, they will have had time to set seed or get more established. As the soil dries and gets baked by the sun, pulling weeds, or in some cases, digging them, becomes more difficult.
Bearded Iris
There may be no other flowers that exhibit such a diverse range of floral colors. Bearded iris, Iris X germanica, classifies as a hybrid of Iris pallida and Iris variegata. The genus of Iris derives its name from the Greek word for rainbow. As the name implies, it includes all colors of the spectrum. Floral form, height and, for some, fragrance is also quite variable.
About sixty thousand cultivars of bearded iris are supposedly documentable. It is difficult to estimate how many lack documentation. The smaller miniature cultivars are only a few inches tall. The tallest cultivars may grow four feet tall. Although they classify as summer bulbs, they are fleshy rhizomes that bloom for spring. Some will bloom again for autumn.
Bearded iris multiply whether or not anyone wants them to. Their rhizomes branch in two directions after bloom. Besides that, side shoots develop randomly from plump rhizomes. Congested rhizomes may bloom less. Division during summer promotes bloom. Division may happen annually or every few years. Bearded iris prefer sunny and warm exposure.
Tony Tomeo 