This is just as relevant now as it was when this article posted three years ago, but happened to be relevant a bit earlier this season than it was then.
It is as scary as it sounds. Well foliated limbs or entire trees really do fall spontaneously during the calmest of warm weather. It never fails to frighten anyone who witnesses it. Those who witness it always express the same difficulty with trying to explain it to those who did not witness it, as if they know that no one will believe them.
Several people heard this cottonwood limb fall onto a bridle path in Felton Covered Bridge Park. It is not a particularly large limb. The diameter about a foot above the flared union is only about seven inches.
Yet, even this relatively small limb is seriously dangerous when it falls from above, and from such a height.
A much larger sycamore limb that was almost two feet in diameter fell nearby a few years ago. It was like a full sized tree falling from the sky!
These Six for this Saturday are a minor collection of embarrassing but otherwise useless images that are perhaps too amusing to merely delete. Some had been accumulating for quite a while. The first may not seem like the worst, but is associated with a more embarrassing picture from another ‘Six on Saturday’ of last April. That entire procedure was just too dysfunctional to write about. The fifth picture was actually planned, and should actually work, regardless of how silly it looks here now.
1. Black cherry is so rare here that I met only one in my entire career; and sadly, it needed to be removed. What I did not show at the time was how close this bit got to an adjacent parked car.
2. Arborists who cut down bigger trees for us are remarkably proficient. However, after removing this canyon live oak without any damage, they piled the firewood onto one of my hydrangeas.
3. It made sense at the time. There are two rows of canned plants on top of this retaining wall. Roses are in the sunnier outer row. Now, they need to be deadheaded; but I can not reach them.
4. Land is famously expensive here. Nonetheless, we get it delivered for free whenever we want it. The quality is good, and on rare occasion, it comes with surprises such as callas or narcissus.
5. This ungrafted flowering cherry tree would not stop suckering. Now that it is succumbing to scald, one of its own suckers is groomed and staked to replace it. This stake is nailed to the tree.
6. While unused during the past year, the buildings at work were neglected more than the landscapes were. No one was here to tell us what this Boston ivy was doing on this exterior stairwell.
This is the link for Six on Saturday, for anyone else who would like to participate:
Intricately blotched bark distinguishes Chinese elm.
Since the Dutch Elm Disease (DED) epidemic that killed so many old and stately American elm trees so many years ago, the old fashioned Chinese elm, Ulmus parvifolia, has been unavailable in nurseries. That is why there are only old and middle aged trees, and maybe a few feral seed grown trees. Chinese elm is not bothered much by the disease, but is a vector. ‘Drake’ is a modern DED resistant cultivar, but it has a very different personality, with a more upright and symmetrical structure.
The elegantly lanky trunk and main limbs can be quite curvacious, with distinctively blotched gray and tan bark. The deciduous foliage can be messy in autumn as it falls slowly and may linger through December. The neatly serrate leaves are only about an inch or two long, and half as wide. Mature trees can be more than fifty feet tall.
It was probably the extra chill this last winter that made some deciduous fruit trees bloom more profusely early in spring than they typically do. Unusually busy bees in some regions improved pollination and subsequent fruit set, although some was dislodged by late rain. The sudden warmth this last spring not only improved the flavor of fruit, but also made some grow larger than typical.
More and better fruit is usually what those who grow fruit strive for. The problem with some trees now is excess. After pruning our fruit trees every winter for a few years, we get to know how much to prune them to maximize productions without overloading the trees. When the trees produce more than expected, they may not be able to support the weight of their own fruit.
Many plum and peach trees have already dropped limbs that were overburdened with the weight of fruit. Nectarine, apricot, pluot (and aprium, plumcot and all those weird hybrids), and prune trees can potentially drop limbs as well. Even without breaking, heavy limbs can get disfigured simply by sagging downward. Broken or sagging limbs expose inner bark to sun scald.
Broken limbs obviously can not be salvaged, so can only be removed. They should be cut cleanly away without leaving stubs. Sagging limbs can be propped with notched stakes tucked under side branches that will keep them from sliding upward. The notches keep such stakes from sliding off to either side. Much of the excessive fruit can be removed from severely sagging limbs. However, if the fruit is so ripe that it will not be getting any heavier, there is no advantage to removal.
Formerly shaded bark that suddenly becomes exposed to direct sunlight should be shaded. If partly shaded though much of the day, it should be safe. If expected to be shaded next year by new growth, bark can be protected temporarily with duct tape or stapled cardboard, or even foliated bits of the limb that broke, tied over the bark. Light colored paint is unsightly, but can be applied to reflect sunlight from bark that is expected to remain exposed permanently.
Excessive weight is not only a problem for fruit trees. Some sweetgum, fruitless mulberry and old fashioned Chinese elm trees can produce so much healthy foliage that limbs hang lower than they should. Some shade trees can even drop limbs ‘very’ unexpectedly, when the weather is warm and humid, but without wind.
Just last Wednesday, I mentioned that the recycled article of the day originally posted prior to the invention of the Horridculture meme for Wednesdays. It must have been the last to lack that designation, since this one, which posted a week later, is the first to be designated as such.
This is the first article within the designated ‘rant’ format, that will continue each Wednesday. Articles for the other six days of the week will be more cheerful, or at least less objectionable. These articles may not always be rants, so might alternatively include discussions of particular fad, trends, gimmicks and so on. Perhaps some topics will remain just that; discussions in which the advantages and disadvantages of a particular subject are compared. Categories may develop, so besides ‘Horriduclture’, there could be a category for discussions of fads, for example. This is a new format for me, so I will keep it open to modification, and see how it goes.
Fat hedges are one of my serious peeves!
Hedges done properly are very useful landscape features, that provide privacy, obscure undesirable views, muffle outside sound or simply divide a large garden space into smaller garden rooms. Landscape designers know how…
Although rarely planted intentionally in home gardens, perennial pea, Lathyrus latifolius, is somewhat common near rural roadside ditches and in riparian situations. It naturalizes to a minor degree, generally where the soil retains a bit of moisture after the rain finishes. It can eventually become somewhat overwhelming in unrefined but irrigated landscapes.
Bloom is typically rich purplish pink during late spring or early summer. A few specimens might bloom white or pale pink. Seed for varieties that bloom in any of these three colors, as well as red, is available online. Flowers resemble those of annual sweet pea, but are more abundant, and lack fragrance. Their delicate foliage might be slightly bluish green.
Vines might be lean through their first season from seed, but can get six feet long. By the middle of summer, they begin to die back to their plump perennial roots. They last longer with watering. Without watering, they may finish before July. Vines that grow from mature roots as winter ends after the first season should be bigger, fuller and perhaps voracious.
Perennial pea is similar to sweet pea, but as the name implies, it is perennial.
‘Perennial’ is a simple adjective that describes something that last for more than a single year. Horticulturally, it is not this simple. After all, every plant that is not an ‘annual’, which completes its entire life cycle within only one year, is technically a ‘perennial’. Those that develop lignified (woody) parts instead conform to such categories as tree, shrub or vine.
Even these categories are not as simple as they seem to be. Palms are trees, but without woody stems. Technically, they are merely very large perennials. Some consider them to be ‘herbaceous trees’. Yucca trees conform to the same category; while terrestrial yuccas are usual perennials. Sweet peas are annual vines. Perennial peas are perennial vines.
Many annual bedding plants, such as begonia, chrysanthemum, primrose, cyclamen and even busy Lizzie, are technically perennial. They could survive for a few or several years if they get such a chance. All ferns, including tree ferns, are perennials. So are bamboos, ornamental grasses, and many succulents. ‘Biennials’ are perennials that live two years.
Many of the most popular perennial plants have an indefinite life span. It is impossible to know how long they can survive. They are constantly replacing themselves with new but genetically identical parts. For example, bearded iris migrate and propagate by rhizomes that could have been propagating for centuries. New plants are identical to their original.
However, many perennial plants with potential to propagate indefinitely might eventually get shabby. New Zealand flax, after many years, may slowly migrate outward from where it started growing, leaving a bald spot in the middle. Outer shoots relocate easily to patch such bald spots, or unite as a fresh clump. Crowded lily of the Nile benefit from thinning.
Bulbs and bulb like plants are generally perennial, even if unreliable as such in the mild local climate. (Many bulbs and bulb like plants prefer more chill through winter than they get here.) Most of these sorts of perennials are dormant for part of the year, so die back to the ground. Hostas are bare through winter. Florists’ cyclamen are bare through summer.
That is a term that we do not hear much. There are not many plants that it applies to. Cyclamen is one of the more familiar plants that is summer deciduous. It is from a climate with reasonably mild winters and unpleasantly dry and warm summers. Just like most deciduous plants are dormant through winter to avoid the unpleasantries of the weather, cyclamen defoliates as the weather gets warm in early summer to avoid the expected heat and aridity. It somehow knows how to stay dormant until the weather starts to get cooler in autumn, and is ready to regenerate new foliage and bloom as the rain starts. The active growing season is through autumn, winter and into spring. It is all a matter of taking advantage of the weather while it can, and avoiding the discomforts of severe weather when necessary.
You know, three years after this recycled article posted, I am a bit more tolerant of the term ‘blog’. I like to think that my writing style is more relaxed now, although I have not written much more than my gardening column in quite a while.
There are two terms that I avoid using within the context of my writing:
1. SILICON VALLEY – The name of the main newspaper group that I had been writing for since 1998, almost twenty years ago, is the Silicon Valley Community Newspapers. As much as I enjoyed writing for the small local newspapers of the group, I hate the name. I find the term ‘Silicon Valley’ to be offensive. It exemplifies that which destroyed the idyllic culture and lifestyle of the Santa Clara Valley, which is also known as the Valley of Heart’s Delight. I have never written the term until now.
2. BLOG – It is the contraction of ‘web log’. The ‘log’ in ‘blog’ is not what bother me. It implies a chronological journal, perhaps documenting experiences that are relevant to a designated topic. It is the ‘b’, or more specifically, the ‘web’ in ‘blog’ that is…
The climate here is mild. Winter chill is insufficient for some peonies and apples. Summer warmth is generally tolerable, particularly since humidity is generally low. Nonetheless, the weather occasionally gets quite warm. Fortunately, when this happens, it does not last for too long. It started to get unpleasantly warm on Wednesday, then remarkably hot on Thursday, but was then comfortably warm for Friday. I know that it is not much to complain about; but even brief warmth can damage the landscapes here.
1. Astilbe is something that I have wanted to grow since about 1987. I just never found a good excuse to do so. This is not mine, but was added to two of the landscapes at work on Wednesday.
2. On Thursday, a few of the fresh new astilbe looked like this. The weather got too warm, too fast. Gads! This is my first experience with astilbe. Fortunately, they are green and viable within.
3. Shade is certainly not a rare commodity here. Redwoods are the tallest trees in the World, and many live in and around the landscapes. It would have been even warmer here without them.
4. When I say that redwoods are tall, I mean that they are ‘tall’. This one is known as the woodpecker tree because woodpeckers store acorns in the perforated bark. Its shadow reaches Utah.
5. Anyway, this is how hot it almost got. The actual temperature was likely slightly less than this, but enhanced by the metallic roof above. What difference does it make? It was hot regardless!
6. Rhody knew what he wanted to do while it was so unbearably hot. He went out and laid in a sunny spot on the hot asphalt. He rolled around a bit too. He went for a swim in the creek later.
This is the link for Six on Saturday, for anyone else who would like to participate: