Posted on by tonytomeo · 10 Comments

Horridculture – High End

Gladiolus papilio from Skooter’s Garden makes my garden more special than any ‘high end’ garden.

What exactly does that mean?! Why should I care? My lack of concern seems to be directly proportionate to the intensity with which someone tries to impress upon me that I should be so concerned. A colleague from high school tried to tell me about a new television show about a so-called ‘landscaper’ in Michigan who is so extremely ‘successful’ that he also lives in a home in Florida for the winter. I suspect that both of his homes combined are worth about as much as a single home here, but I will just continue with this premise that he is successful. He does exclusively ‘high end’ work, which regularly involves moving huge boulders with old fashioned technology because that is what his ‘high end’ clients want. I needed to interrupt. The ‘high end’ nonsense annoyed me too much. So, they have huge boulders in their landscapes. Perhaps their landscapes were very expensive to install. Splendid! ‘High end’ spending is healthy for the economy. Why is this any of my business? I do not know. I am a horticulturist, not an economist. My garden contains rhubarb from the garden of my paternal paternal great grandfather, and Dalmatian iris from the garden of my maternal maternal great grandmother. That is horticulturally significant. ‘High end’ gardens seem to be more concerned with expenditure than with horticulture, as if spending more will somehow make it better. Do those who purchase ‘high end’ gardens actually work in them? Do they grow anything from the gardens of their ancestors? I know that some do, but I suspect that some do not. The primary purpose of their ‘high end’ landscapes is lavishness. I can not doubt that such landscapes serve such purposes more than adequately, but am nonetheless unimpressed by their typical lack of horticultural relevance.

Posted on by tonytomeo · 2 Comments

Please Do Not Pick the Flowers

Am I that predictable? How did whoever posted this sign know I would be here? I do not want their stupid flowers anyway. Besides, only that dinky twig of some random species that I can not identify is blooming on the far right. Is that all they got? What I really want, or more accurately, what I would want if I did not find them to be either uninteresting or redundant what is already in my garden, is stem bits of the succulents for propagation. I suppose that I am not the only one who might want that, which is why the sign, although slightly irrelevant to such desires, became necessary. Actually, I have direct experience with pilferage of bits of succulents from my small planter box downtown, so I am aware of why such signs might be useful. I would not install any such sign within my planter box because such a sign would be bigger and more prominent than any of the flowers that it would be intended to protect. If I were to grow more flowers, I would prefer those that are so abundant that no one would miss a few that might get pilfered. The most abundant flowers are also smaller than less abundant flowers, so they would not be as tempting to those who might want more impressive flowers. For example, the bearded iris within my downtown planter box blooms with only a few big and bold floral stalks. Not only are the flowers tempting and easily taken, but when they are taken, there are no more to replace them. Anyway, I do not actually mind if those who want copies of my succulent perennials take a few bits if only they do so properly. It may happen more often than I am aware of, but of course, I am not aware of it if otherwise useless bits are taken from below the visible growth, or where they should be pruned away anyway. That is how I justify what you likely know I will mention next. Yes, only about a hundred feet from this urn filled with succulents and the sign that requests that I refrain from doing as such, even if it does not mention the subject matter and procedure directly, I ‘borrowed’ a few bits of stem from the underside of a shabby specimen of what seems to be ‘Roman Red’ Salvia guaranitica that should eventually get pruned back for winter anyway.

Posted on by tonytomeo · 2 Comments

Karpooravalli

Karpooravalli bananas after removal of their edible male flowers below.

Pronunciation is only slightly easier than when I first tried to read it. Spelling still necessitates cheating, which I do not feel at all guilty about. Karpooravalli is a big name! I must get acquainted with it though, since it will likely be with me for the rest of my life.

Yes, it is another cultivar of banana, which is something else that I do not feel at all guilty about. I have no intention of retaining all of the other twenty or so cultivars that are already here. In the future, I will likely give away most of them to colleagues, without retaining pups. I actually already have plans to install at work the two that are least likely to produce edible fruit, and never grow either in my own garden again.

Karpooravalli banana pups

These four new pups of Karpooravalli arrived last Monday, just two days after eight unidentified pupping pups and a single pup of ‘Blue Java’ which is also known as the ‘Ice Cream’ banana. Like these previously most recent acquisitions, as well as another ‘Blue Java’ pup and another unidentified pup that were acquired together last year, these four pups of Karpooravalli are from a private garden. All of the other cultivars here are from nurseries, and most were tissue culture plugs that never actually grew in soil.

That is the dilemma. Cultivars from nurseries are expendable. I can give them away without retaining any copies and not miss them. However, cultivars from private gardens have history, even if I am unaware of it. They are important to someone.

I can give away the recently acquired pup of ‘Blue Java’ only because another pup of it from another important source is already established here, and I knew when I took it that it would not be staying. Also, I can give away almost all of the other unidentified pups that came with it because there are already too many to retain. However, I will retain at least one of them because I know that the cultivar was important to the person who shared it. Likewise, I will retain my first copy of ‘Blue Java’ and the unidentified pup that came with it because they are important to the person who shared them.

Karpooravalli is fortunately one of the more reliably productive cultivars here, and provides sweet fruit with remarkably rich flavor. It is gratifying to know this now because I will grow it for as long as I can tend the garden. This particular Karpooravalli is very important to the person who grew it in her garden for a few decades before sharing it with me, so it is important to me now. I know that I will eventually need to share it with others as it multiplies in the future, but I will prefer to share it with those who respect its importance.

Before I was in kindergarten, I acquired my rhubarb from my paternal paternal great grandfather, and my Dalmatian iris from my maternal maternal great grandmother. Both are growing well in my garden now, and always will. I acquired my common lily of the Nile and the first of my common zonal geranium a few years later. Much of what inhabits my garden now has been with me for many years. Yet, I acquired my first Japanese iris, persicaria and goldenrod as recently as late last winter from Tangly Cottage Gardening. Perhaps it is never too late to start another important tradition.

Karpooravalli bananas

Posted on by tonytomeo · 5 Comments

Down On The Corner

Yucca elephantipes at Taco Bell in San Luis Obispo in 1968.

Down on the corner, or at least next door to the western corner of Olive Street at Santa Rosa Street in San Luis Obispo, Creedence Clearwater Revival stopped at Taco Bell, supposedly about the second of August of 1968, on their way from Palo Alto to Santa Monica. They were famous for such horticultural songs as ‘Run Through The Jungle’, ‘Have You Ever Seen The Rain’, ‘Cotton Fields’ and ‘I Heard It Through The Grapevine’, which I incidentally remember playing on the radio as I drove over the Grapevine Highway on my second trip to Los Angeles sometime in about 1987. This particular Taco Bell is conveniently located for travellers, since its corner location is also the interchange of southbound Highway 101 and Highway 1. The two highways are concurrent to the south. The original Taco Bell building has been replaced with a larger modern building that also occupies the parcels to its left and right, so that it really is down on the corner now. A bit more than eighteen years after the picture above was taken, in autumn of 1986, Brent and I became very familiar with the original. It was the scene of one of his more notorious adventures, which is too naughty for me to describe here. Another tamer incident involved the relatively small giant yucca, Yucca elephantipes, to the lower right in the picture. It was larger by 1986, and prior to one of our visits to Taco Bell, it had suspiciously deposited a few small limbs onto the sidewalk. Upon closer inspection, we found bits of pulverized chrome plated plastic and an emblem from what was likely a relatively new Cavallier of the early 1980s. Of course, we could not just leave the yucca canes there on the sidewalk to eventually be disposed of. We loaded them into the trunk and took them back to our dormitory, where we shared them with neighbors. The smallest shoot grew in a can of soil in our dorm room until it matured enough to also be given away. Because I sort of enjoyed it while it was there, Brent gave me a larger and more impressive specimen with an even more scandalous history a few years later. I have grown hundreds of giant yucca specimens since then, but the original that Brent gave me before 1990 is still here. I wonder if any of the others survive.

Posted on by tonytomeo · 9 Comments

Renee’s Garden Still Provides Traditional Seed.

Old fashioned nasturtiums never really get old.

Before I was in kindergarten, my great grandfather gave me a few seeds from the nasturtiums in his garden in Sunnyvale. I really can not remember ever not growing nasturtiums since then. My first nasturtiums were the basic yellow and orange. In high school, I added some ‘Jewel Mix’ to see what other colors there were. As they too reverted back to the basic yellow and orange, I tried a few other varieties, and eventually realized that nasturtiums really are as excellent as I always thought they were.

‘Amazon Jewel’ is the first climbing nasturtium that I tried in many years. I typically do not like climbing types because they provide so much overwhelming foliage with fewer flowers. Yet this past year, I actually wanted the foliage to frame an exposed picture window through summer. By the middle of summer, the twining (annual) vines had already climbed string to the top of the window, and wanted to climb farther. Their bright yellow through orange, and even reddish orange flowers peeking in the window seemed to violate the privacy within, but were a pleasant bonus nonetheless.

‘Buttercream’ appealed to me because it was the closest to a simple white nasturtium that I had ever seen; and white is my favorite color. As the name implies, it is actually very pale yellow. It is striking because it is not striking. Who would expect such a profusion of pastel from a nasturtium? It means that there is no excuse for those who do not like flashy colors to shun nasturtiums. ‘Creamsicle’ is a bit more colorful with various shades of orange ranging from soft pastel to almost bright orange; another score for those don’t like the colors of a pinata.

‘Copper Sunset’ is as brightly colored as traditional nasturtiums, but only in coppery shades of orange uncluttered with yellow or red. ‘Cherries Jubilee’ is various shades or red and rich reddish pink.

In the past many years, the seeds for all my nasturtiums and almost all of my other flower seeds, as well as many herb and vegetable seeds came from Renee’s Garden at www.reneesgarden.com  . Few other seed suppliers market nasturtiums. Those that do have only very basic nasturtium varieties. Renee’s Garden specializes in all sorts of cool heirloom varieties, even those that may be stigmatized as old fashioned. (Aren’t ‘heirloom’ and ‘old fashioned’ the same?)

Of course I tried other flowers besides nasturtiums. Clarkia, feverfew and chamomile have actually naturalized over the past few years in areas of the garden that get a bit of water. The clarkia is almost a native, so is venturing even farther. The ‘Maximilian’ sunflower is perennial, so bloomed more impressively this past summer than it did in the previous summer.

Posted on by tonytomeo

Myrtle

70920After many centuries of cultivation, myrtle, Myrtus communis, has not changed much. It was one of the more traditional plants for formally shorn hedges in Victorian gardens. It functions somewhat like a drought tolerant boxwood. Unshorn plants can grow as gnarly small trees not much higher than the eaves. ‘Compacta’ gets only about three or four feet high and wide, even without pruning.

The finely textured evergreen foliage is very aromatic and darker green than boxwood foliage. Individual leaves are not much more than an inch long. Not many of the tiny white flowers that bloom in summer develop if plants are shorn regularly. Unshorn plants that are allowed to bloom can produce small bluish black berries which might be messy on pavement. Foliar density is best in full sun. Shade can cause bald spots. Established plants may not need watering, and might live longer than anything else in the landscape.

Posted on by tonytomeo · 10 Comments

The Colors Of Karma

0407160708aThe statute of limitations allows me to discuss this now. It happened thirty years ago, in the spring of 1987. The famous landscape designer, Brent Green, was my roommate in the dorms at Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo. As the bearded iris started to bloom, Brent immediately noticed a bed of uniformly pink bearded iris off the edge of a lawn in the inner campus. He watched it bloom from beginning to end, and occasionally updated me on the progress. During the process, he convinced me that these iris were very rare. Neither of us had ever seen pink bearded iris before. We had no idea that they could easily be purchased from mail order catalogs or nurseries.

Late one warm spring night, Brent telephoned me from a landscape design lab where he had been working late. Back then, we answered a telephone when it rang. Before I could wake up enough to think about what I was doing, or just say “No.”, Brent convinced me to bring something that he needed from our room to the lab. Without thinking, I got dressed, grabbed his designated duffel bag and got on my way. I was sort of concerned that the duffel bag seemed to be empty. I figured that whatever was in it was very lightweight.

By the time I got to lab, Brent was in the lobby, and his associates were leaving. Brent did not seem to be interested in whatever was in the bag. He just thanked me for bringing it as we waked out as if to go back to the dorms. I was puzzled. As we walked, Brent explained that he only needed the bag, and confirmed that it really was as empty as I suspected. I was even more puzzled. I asked why he woke me up in the middle of the night to deliver an empty bag across campus. Well, in the few minutes it took for us to get this far into the conversation, we had arrived at the bed of pink iris. You can imagine what happened next.

Yes. Brent dropped the bag on the ground and began to stuff it full of all the bloomed-out iris rhizomes he could grab! Suddenly, I was very awake, and protested. He explained that now that the iris had finished blooming, they would be dug up and disposed of. What else could I do? I knew he was correct. I did not want to waste the iris. I also realized that panic would only draw attention, and that delaying the process would only increase the likelihood of getting busted. I pulled up as many rhizomes as I could hastily grab as well, and stuffed the bag until it was full. Brent was feeling rather satisfied as we walked back to the dorms. I was mortified.

The rhizomes got split and groomed, and eventually went into our mothers’ gardens. We each got about half. The following late winter and early spring, Brent would check in on his when he would go south for the weekend. I would check on mine when I would go north. They grew well, and fattened up to bloom. The stalks came up. The buds swelled. Then, finally, and with much anticipation, they bloomed! They were magnificent! They were glorious! They were spectacular! They were purple and yellow! WHAT?!?! Where was the pink? What happened? This is NOT FAIR! Wait a minute, . . . Could it be karma?

Thirty years later, we still grow these two bearded iris. They are known simply as ‘Karma Purple’ and ‘Karma Yellow’. We do not know their real names. A few years ago, they were joined by a nice tall ‘Karma White’, which was supposed to be a rusty red that I ‘borrowed’ from a neighbor. Neither Brent nor I have ever grown a pink iris.

Posted on by tonytomeo · 6 Comments

Goodbye To An Old Friend

image(16)

After decades of deteriorating structural integrity, Quercus lobata of Felton finally succumbed to a need to prioritize public safety, and passed away at home in Felton Fair on June 20, 2017. His age is unknown, but may have been about three centuries. He was born in Felton before Felton was, and lived his entire life here. In the idyllic alluvial meadow between Zayante Creek and the San Lorenzo River, he was a simple forest tree for most of his career, and only became a distinguished shade tree when Graham Hill Road was built. Instead of retiring later in life, he became the most prominent tree in the parking lot when Felton Fair was constructed. In his spare time, he enjoyed feeding neighborhood squirrels. A tree of few words, or really none at all, Quercus lobata never complained about anything, even when cars crashed into his bulky trunk, and stripped away large portions of bark where decayed cavities later developed. His remains will be scattered as mulch,and used to warm homes throughout the region. Ashes will be scattered as stoves and fireplaces are cleaned. Rings will be counted privately. Quercus lobata is survived by an unknown number of children, countless squirrels, and countless admirers of various specie throughout Felton.

The obituary above was serious business when it was written. What it does not mention is that the deceased did not fall down or die completely of natural causes. It was cut down after dropping a very large limb onto a roadway, demonstrating how dangerous it could be. It would have gotten more dangerous if it aged and deteriorated more. No one wanted it to be cut down. It was just too necessary.

This is the part of the job of arborists that non-arborists do not seem to understand. We arborists love our work, and we love trees. However, that does not mean that we object to the removal of each and every tree. The people who live with trees are more important. Any tree that blatantly endangers people or property must be removed or made safe.

Unfortunately, valley oaks deteriorate and fall apart for many decades before they finally die. This particular tree might have survived for quite a while if it had not been cut down. It also would have continued to drop limbs.

Distinguished old trees are always the most difficult to condemn. No one is old enough to remember when they were not here. They witnessed more changes to their little part of the world than anyone. Without going anywhere, some of them here in California visited three different countries; Spain, Mexico and the United States of America.

In the end though, death is perfectly natural. The tree had spent centuries doing what it was put here to do. It was time for it to go. Behind the stump in the picture, one of its babies is already becoming a nice young tree. Another one is just to the east, just beyond the left edge of the picture. They might shade the road and driveway for a few more centuries. What history will they see during that time?

 

Posted on by tonytomeo · 5 Comments

Roots

blog

In the lower right corner of this picture, next to the fenced garden gate, and just beyond the mown grass and what appears to be a walkway, there is a small clump of bearded iris foliage. No one knows where these iris came from, or for how long they had been there when this picture was taken in the summer of 1969. They were growing in the garden of my great grandmother, in Hoot Owl Creek, just south of Red Oak in Latimer County of Oklahoma. It is unlikely that my great grandmother purchased such non-utilitarian plant from a nursery. It was probably acquired from a friend or neighbor sometime during the half century that she tended the garden prior to 1969. It could have been around even earlier, since my great grandfather’s family first developed the farm as Oklahoma became a territory.

The flowers are an alluringly soft lavender blue, on elegantly tall and lean stems. They are relatively small for bearded iris, and lack any fancy frills or ruffles. In fact, they are quite neatly tailored, with a simple sweet and fruity fragrance that resembles that of grape pop. This iris is probably one of the prehistoric specie of iris that was used to breed modern cultivars. Some of these sorts of iris were known affectionately as ‘grape pop’ iris, but it is impossible to know if or how this particular iris is related.

Many years ago, probably in the early 1980s, my grandmother brought some of these iris back to her home garden in Santa Clara in California. They proliferated enough to share with friends and neighbors. A few went to my mother’s garden, where they also proliferated and were shared with friends and neighbors. Now, my mother’s great granddaughters play in a garden where these same iris will bloom next spring; only a few months from now, but at least six generations from that well outfitted homestead garden in Hoot Owl Creek.

Where will these iris go from here? It is impossible to say. Younger generations are not very interested in horticulture. However, I really doubt that my great grandmother could have imagined that they would have gotten this far. What is funny is that these iris are probably more interesting now to current generations than they were to my great grandmother when she planted them.