
Eucalyptus citriodora, lemon gum, is one of several species that I miss from the more southern portion of the Central Coast and Southern California. San Luis Obispo, where Brent and I studied horticulture at Cal Poly, and where I learned to appreciate this particular species, is technically within the same climate zone as Los Gatos. Nonetheless, many species that are popular in Southern California are more popular there than here, perhaps because of the proximity to Southern California. I got this picture on the inland edge of Highway 101 in Carpinteria on the return trip from Los Angeles. It demonstrates how sculptural the elegantly slender, smooth and pallid trunks and limbs of lemon gum are. The airy foliage is delightfully aromatic, but is too high to reach among trees that are sufficiently mature to be so sculptural. A few other eucalypti are similarly but distinctly sculptural. Some develop heftier trunks and limbs. Some develop blotched or uniformly coarse bark. Also, several other genera, such as coast live oak, camphor and ‘Marina’ madrone, develop sculptural form. Such form should be more of a consideration for modern landscape design, as it was until about the late 1970s, when trees like European white birch and the last of the complaisant eucalypti slowly became passe. It is actually gratifying to notice that a few daring horticulturists are experimenting with some of the smaller species of eucalypti that could have become popular years ago, as well as a few that had not yet been introduced. Where lemon gum might eventually grow too large, smaller species, such as Eucalyptus caesia, gungurru, might be more proportionate. Of the more than seven hundred species of Eucalyptus available, more than a few must be appropriate to refined home gardens, and more than a few of such are likely sculptural.

1. What have we here?




This has very little to do with gardening; but like I said in the description of this blog, anything goes when it comes to the ‘Elaborations’ category. Anyway and furthermore, I do not like to write about garden sculpture, garden art, or any of those knick-knack fads that involve putting more than plants and the necessary infrastructure to sustain them into the garden. I do happen to like certain tasteful garden statuary, like Saint Francis, or Saint Fiacre (the rarely seen ‘real’ patron saint of gardening) or any of the saints; but only if I have a suitable space for them. This is nothing like that; but is just excellent enough that I wanted to mention it.