Fold, Fallow and Plough

Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

2011-06-26T09:06:00.000-05:00

In the garden, at least! Of course, I like everything I've planted in my garden, but the ones I really love are the ones that pop up and surprise me.

Zephyranthes or Rain Lily

Since we got an inch or two of much-needed rain last week, the rain lilies are blooming all over the garden. I adore these little bulbs, and all the more, I think, because they aren't always there. I love how they bloom so reliably in the summer, but on their own timetable. They have an orrnery sense of self-possession, blooming after it rains but not after you water them.

Mostly pink but sometimes apricot, white, or yellow.

There are perfectly nice plants that bloom all summer here in Sugar Land, and quite a few of them are planted in my garden. But perhaps because they are always in flower, I just don't LOVE them the way I love rain lilies. And it's not that they're exotic or strange: rain lilies are quite common and even grow wild around here. I imagine it's the way these intermittent bloomers add surprise and change to the garden.

Containers or flowerbeds, sun or mostly sun.

Don't knock it -- there's something to be said for the sense of wonder that we might not get from a begonia.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-05-18T07:00:00.002-05:00

Ladybugs Make Me Uneasy

2011-04-22T21:27:00.000-05:00

I just don't know about ladybugs. I've heard a lot about them as natural predators and I guess Earth Day is as good a day as any to confess that I have deep misgivings about that. I don't sell the cute little easy-to-merchandise bags at my garden center -- here's why:

Ladybug gives me the evil eye.

1. I don't think releasing clouds of ladybugs into your garden is an effective way to control soft-bodied insects like aphids. Yes, I know. Ladybugs are natural predators of aphids. I've seen them with my own eyes, stalking aphids like cheetahs after (very slow) gazelles. But I can't find any evidence that store-bought ladybugs area more effective than just doing nothing. Want ladybugs to eat your aphids? Stop spraying broad-spectrum insecticides and just wait awhile. Native ladybugs will show up and eat until the populations are under control.

Volunteer soldier in the aphid wars.

2. I'm not okay with relocating huge populations of ladybugs from one part of the country to another. Doesn't that seem ill-advised? If it's not a good idea for red imported fire ants to move northward up the continent, how come it's a good idea for sweet little ladybugs to move south? Ladybugs are harvested in great numbers from overwintering grounds, where they lie waiting docilely for the return of warm weather. They're whisked out of the mountains in jet planes. When they awaken from their slumber, they find themselves in red net bags at the checkout counter of your local garden center. That's if they are, in fact, native ladybugs. There are reports of imported Asian ladybugs sold commercially as a green alternative to pesticides.

Maybe there's no harm in collecting, selling and releasing ladybugs. But something about just doesn't seem right. I'm all for maintaining populations of beneficial and predator insects. I'd rather they be homegrown, that's all.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-04-13T07:00:00.000-05:00

Wordless Wednesday

2011-04-06T07:00:00.001-05:00

And The Garden Falls Beautifully Into Disrepair

2011-04-01T07:00:00.001-05:00

I love how lettuce looks good even when you completely ignore it for weeks at a time. And how the purple oxalis creeps in to offer such a nice purple contrast.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-03-30T07:00:00.000-05:00

Eggs With Leftovers

2011-03-28T19:10:00.000-05:00

Recently a friend gave me a dozen fresh eggs, courtesy of her backyard hens. After sharing them with my coworker, I took home six and improvised a great dinner of fresh eggs with leftovers. It's based on a recipe I saw years ago, now lost. I wish I could remember more about that original recipe -- kudos to the long-forgotten cook -- but suffice it to say that my version had its origins in a cooking magazine.

This recipe serves 2 hungry adults and 1 finicky kid, or 2 hungry adults only, which is about the same amount.

6 eggs
2-3 tablespoons milk
salt and pepper
half an onion, thinly sliced
half a red bell pepper, thinly sliced
a quantity of cooking oil
about a quarter-pound each of cooked ham and cooked chicken
cooked French fries, enough to mix in the eggs and serve on the side (try sweet potato fries!)

The ingredients

Beat the eggs lightly with the milk, salt and pepper in a medium bowl and set aside. Warm the oil in the skillet over medium heat and sauté the onions or about 8 minutes, or until lightly browned. Add the red bell peppers and cook until softened, about 5 more minutes. Mix in the chicken and ham and stir until heated through.

In the skillet

Now mix in the eggs and cook until almost set. Then mix in some of the French fries, reserving most of them for serving alongside the eggs. Serve with your choice of toppings -- we like fresh salsa!

Ready to eat!

Try this recipe anytime a generous friend gives you yard eggs! You can substitute freely, using whatever leftovers you have -- this is just what we had on hand.

Once Were Wildflowers

2011-03-21T21:13:00.000-05:00

The annual Texas wildflower fever is just beginning around here -- everybody loves wildflowers in March. It's kind of surprising that they do, to tell the truth. After all, most wildflowers have a rather weedy appearance close up. Our very favorite one, the Texas Bluebonnet, has a very short bloom cycle. As a group, they're fairly unreliable: sometimes we have a banner year, and sometimes, depending on the rain, we get nothing at all.

What interests me is how we got from wildflowers to garden flowers. I enjoy reading about the dedicated plant breeders who carry on improving our species plants until we can barely recognize them. Even more interesting? Reading about how genetic researchers use plant DNA to track human migrations, based on the plants (and pollens and seeds) they carried with them.

I like to think about those people who long ago were entranced by the subtle beauty of a native wildflower. What it must have been like to live in a world where all flowers were wildflowers! It seems incredible that we ended up here, in a world in which woodland plants bloom in the full sun, scentless roses flower 12 months long, and our wildflowers have morphed into bedding color. And a little sad, really, that we only appreciate seasonality, subtlety and brevity in March. After that? We move on to evergreen, everblooming, dwarfing sameness.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-03-16T07:00:00.000-05:00

Lovely Luna Moth

2011-03-10T21:31:00.000-06:00

Once you get over the shock, it's quite a pleasure to watch a Luna Moth unfurl from its cocoon. Even here in the wilds of the Texas Gulf Coast, a huge green moth is unusual. The Luna, even more so, because it usually flies at night, in search of a mate. It takes a few hours for the moth to take its final form. When it first emerges from the cocoon, its wings are small, nothing at all like the 4" wingspan it eventually attains.

Almost done!

The adult Luna lives less than a week, and does not even eat, lacking a mouth. It lives only to mate, and then passes on to its reward. This moth hatched from a cocoon very near a sweetgum tree, a host plant for Luna larvae. I'll keep my eye out for the next generation!

Long hindwings not yet unfolded...

Unfolded, but needs to dry a bit more

The Plant That Assigns Chores

2011-03-03T19:10:00.000-06:00

I have a lovely little cherry bush that wants me to paint the garage. The first few years I had it, it was a shy, unassuming little thing. Made no demands. Grew slowly but steadily. Bloomed sporadically the first spring but very nicely thereafter.

Hirome, a dwarf flowering cherry

The bossy behavior started last year, when the cherry was at its peak. "Paint the garage!" it insisted. The argument was that the beautiful light pink blossoms were lost against the dull beige of the garage siding. The cherry advocated for a dark forest green, but that annoyed the spider lily, whose strap-like foliage is that very same color. I viewed slate gray as a compromise color, but nothing was accomplished last year.

The complainant, stomping its feet on the leucojum.

This year, the cherry is adamant. Either I paint the garage to show off the pink spring finery or else! Or else what, I do not know. I hate to think what a vengeful shrub can do -- I've witnessed the wrath of Climbing Old Blush, so I'm a believer!

The cherry is "Hirome," or "Hiromi," a Prunus jacquemontii dwarf flowering cherry that is extremely well suited to the hot, humid south. I have mine planted on the east side of the offensive garage, where it gets morning sun. I don't do anything at all to it -- no pruning, fertilizing, spraying, and very little additional water now that it's established. It's about 5 feet tall, and a great favorite of the mockingbirds when the fruits (gumball-sized) come in.

The Newest Thing Is Old Hat

2011-02-17T21:36:00.000-06:00

Wednesday I had the great good fortune to attend a seminar at Spring Creek Growers, presented in part by Ball Horticultural Company. The idea is introduce garden center folks and landscape contractors to the newest, most innovative "plant material" out there, in the hopes that we can entice our own customers to buy them. (That's what they call it sometimes, plant material. Isn't that a little, well, dreary?)

'Phantom' Petunia

I love these events. I love to hear about all the research and development that goes into the creation of a "new" plant. I get all plant-geeky inside, just hearing words like vegetative or triploid. And the facility at Spring Creek is very, very nice, and the food was delicious, and it makes for a great start for the spring season.

'Breathless' Euphorbia

What thrills me about springtime, though, does not necessarily thrill the customers. The panel discussion pointed up a disconnect between what the Ball folks were promoting, and what the landscape contractors, re-wholesalers and garden center owners were looking for. The Ball representative started the discussion by asking each of the participants how they felt about new plants, new innovations, new products. You could tell he was very excited about Ball's product line, and he was right to be -- there are some very interesting new plants on the market. However...

Zinnia 'Zahara Double Duo'

One by one, the panel participants said, in not so many words, that simply being "new" was not good enough. The landscape contractor said that her clients never come to her, asking for the newest thing. They rely on her to put together a plan that works for them, in their budget. She believed it was important for her to find out about new plants, but the customer wasn't driving that. The garden center owner said that a few of her customers came into the store looking for the latest in new plants, but that only happened if there were a big national marketing push behind the product. She also said that much of the time, the new products failed to deliver on the promises made by these marketing campaigns. The Wave petunias are a good example -- they don't perform here nearly as well as promised here, in our climate, as other petunias might. The rewholesaler, who provides plants primarily to landscapers, said that he had to push the new products -- there wasn't a demand from his clients specifically for the newest varieties.


Coleus 'Redhead'

The discussions went on in this vein for about half an hour. None of the panelists were using social media or traditional advertising to promote new products. None of the panelists felt that "newness" provided a higher price point or profit margin. In fact, while there was excitement about specific plants, I thought I detected a general skepticism about "newness" in general. Simply being new doesn't mean a plant can solve a customer's problem or meet a customer's need. It's hard to say what was going through the Ball rep's mind -- he put up a good front. But it's got to be discouraging to have your customers tell you new's not where it's at.

Verbena 'Aztec'

I'll put my customer hat on for a minute. Would I rather have a new petunia, in the rare and unusual shade of black? Or would I rather just have a petunia that can make it longer through the heat and humidity of our summers? I appreciate what Ball's doing here and I love some of the new plants. But I hope they don't overestimate the importance of new and different. I think many of us would be satisfied with a good quality, virus-free same-old, same-old.

All photos courtesy Ball Horticultural Company, and a big thanks to Spring Creek Growers for hosting us. It was a very interesting, thought-provoking event!

Monk Parakeets

2011-02-13T21:25:00.000-06:00

I love these little parrots! Seeing them around town is such a thrill, even though they're not at all rare or unusual. Monk parakeets, also known as Quaker parrots, are native to South America but feral populations exist in North America and parts of Europe. They build large nests of sticks, often in utility towers, and are very vocal. I usually hear them before I ever see them. They are sociable birds, and seem to hang around in family groups. I understand they are routinely kept as pets and can even learn to talk. Monk parakeets are a temperate-zone sort of parrot and can survive winters in much of the United States.

Good picture of monk parakeet from Wikimedia Commons

Because they are an introduced species, there is a concern that they may become agricultural pests, but I am not aware of any areas where this has occurred. In fact, parakeets in Brooklyn have been found to reduce the problem of pigeon overpopulation. They don't appear to compete with native nesting birds because they tend to prefer man-made structures for building their large nests. Although they have the potential to disturb grain fields, they tend to prefer urban areas. Monk parakeets are also very well-adapted to backyard bird-feeders -- and how I wish they would come to mine!

A dozen blurry monk parakeets and one starling

The picture above was taken this morning from my driveway. I apologize for the quality -- the camera lenses were still foggy and so was I. But there are 12 monk parakeets on the power line there, along with one slightly suspicious starling.

Thawing Out, Temporarily

2011-02-08T07:00:00.001-06:00

This week finds us recovering from another spell of wintry weather, this time complete with ice and 4 nights in a row of temperatures in the 20s. Now, I know those of you who live north of here might find that a bit amusing, but it's not funny to us. I know I get positively affronted when we have to put up with so much cold.

No more, please!

We have another cold snap predicted for late this week, so in the interim, some thoughts on the weather.

Yucky. Okay to cut back.

First, on cutting back. I swear, the temperatures were still below freezing when people began to write to the newspapers and call the radio lines asking, "Is it too early to cut back the freeze damage?" I'm not sure what drives this winter sense of industry. Are they just antsy to get back outside? Or can they simply not abide the brown foliage for one minute longer? Anyway, my rule of thumb is as follows. If the freeze has left your plants mushy, squishy and yucky, cut it back as soon as you can stand it. I can't stand it. I'm waiting around hoping they'll dry out before I have to clean up. I hate that squishy feeling. On the other hand, I don't intend to prune back woody plants until I'm sure we've had the last freeze. And who knows when that will be? The Chief Engineer and I usually bet on the last freeze date. There have been years he didn't want to pay until May!

Woody. Wait til freeze danger is past.

One last thing. I noticed the dwarf oleanders planted around here are damaged (again) by the cold. Last year, they froze to the ground, and today they look like someone blasted them with a high-test hair dryer. I'm reminded that when I was a girl, people simply did not grow oleanders this far inland. You had to drive 50 miles or so, out to the coast, to see them. And I understand they all froze to death in the late 1970s there, too. For the past 20 years or so, we've enjoyed relatively warm winters here. I'm wondering if we're entering a time of cooler winters. And if so, what's going to happen to all those palm trees, oleanders, ixora, and other semi-hardy shrubs?

No jokes about global warming, now!

A Poem, Hoping For Spring

2011-01-29T07:00:00.000-06:00

Bee in Wallflower

Where the bee sucks, there suck I:
In a cowslip's bell I lie;

There I couch when owls do cry.

On the bat's back I do fly

After summer merrily.

Merrily, merrily shall I live now

Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

From The Tempest by William Shakespeare, 1610.

These lines are spoken by Ariel after Prospero frees him from his debt. What a life that would be, living under the blossoms...

Iceland Poppies

2011-01-27T07:00:00.000-06:00

Did you forget to plant your Iceland Poppies last fall? It's not too late! Although these dainty beauties dislike our warm weather, they should be able to hold on through the end of April or so.

Papaver nudicaule 'Champagne Bubbles'

I love this variety -- "Champagne Bubbles." The flowers come in an array of warm, sunny colors like red, yellow and orange. I think the petals look like the finest silk crepe, and yet they are fairly tough. Iceland Poppies seem to withstand our version of cold weather just fine!

Although this poppy is often sold as a perennial, it should be regarded as an annual here. It's just too hard to guarantee its survival through our summers. Take a chance on those seed pods, though! It's possible you'll have seedlings in the fall, who will develop nice strong root systems to carry them through next spring. Plant in a sunny, well-drained spot and enjoy until the hot weather sets in.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-01-26T07:00:00.000-06:00

Iceland Poppy 'Champagne Bubbles'

The Enormity of Water

2011-01-24T21:15:00.000-06:00

I haven't written in a while, not because I've been indoors, but because I didn't think what I was doing was really related to gardening. But it is, I think, in the most elemental sense.

I've been struggling with water. The Papershell property (my garden center) is located on a very flat piece of ground near the floodplain of a creek. All the land around here is very low and level -- it's basically all Brazos River bottomlands. It's very hard to drain land like that, unless money is no object. Water tends to just sit on flat ground, and the clay is so impervious that it takes a long, long time for water to percolate down into the soil.

Now factor in the rain patterns we get on the Gulf Coast. Monsoon-style rain, followed by drought, followed by floods. When it's dry, you can't really get a sense of the way the water will move across the land. When it's wet, it's all submerged. But from time to time, a window of opportunity opens up. Now is one of those times.

Studying water in the bottomlands is a matter of inches. You need to get right up close, muddy and wet. The slightest rise or contour can divert water away from a catchbasin, or toward a structure. To really see where the water wants to go, it's necessary to go out there when it's raining, which I hate to do. To change where the water wants to go, it's necessary to dig. And not just in clay. In heavy, wet, sticky, clay. That terrible sucking sound the mud makes as it yanks your boots off your feet? My nightmare.

Rubber Cowgirl Boots, the saving grace.

So yeah. I've been out there. Not gardening, exactly. More like hand-to-hand combat. Who's winning? The elements, that's who.

Foliage Friday: Indian Hawthorn 'Umbellata Minor'

2011-01-21T13:17:00.000-06:00

This Indian Hawthorn, Raphiolepis umbellata, is similar the traditional (and more common) Indian Hawthorn, Raphiolepis indica. Both are native to Asia, and both make a nice, low-growing hedge. But I prefer the umbellata minor, because it seems to have a cheerier disposition. The standard Indian Hawthorn always seems crouched over to me, a little too hunchbacked.

Raphiolepis umbellata 'Minor'

The umbellata has a more upright form and slightly smaller leaves and to me, the leaves are often a darker green. It also seems to resist fungal disease better than the indica. Umbellata slowly reaches a height of 4-5 feet, but it's nicer when trimmed to 3-4 feet, preventing it from splaying open. When it blooms in the spring, the flowers are small, white and fragrant. New growth is reddish, and in spring will sometimes resemble a miniature version of Red-Tip Photinia.

This dwarf hawthorn does best in sunny or mostly sunny areas, with good drainage. It makes a nice low, evergreen hedge or small group and has just a little bit different approach to life!

Corsican Violas and the Power of the Imagination

2011-01-16T20:32:00.000-06:00

The Corsican Viola, or Viola corsica, is a sweet little Mediterranean relative of the pansy. Flowers of indigo blue, a neat mounding habit and the ability to tolerate partial shade all serve to recommend this flower, but that's not why I like it. Corsican Viola is also rumored to be a bit more heat-tolerant than our regular pansies and violas, but that's not why I like it. Some folks even claim that Corsican Viola is perennial, and can reseed, but that's not why I like it.

Corsican viola, or Viola corsica

I love this flower because it's what I imagine the original viola was, before the plant breeders went crazy for wild color combinations and frilly petals. I like to think what it would have been like to come upon a clump of these charming purple flowers, while strolling behind a flock of fluffy white sheep as they meandered through the Mediterranean hills.

Somehow, more innocent than regular pansies and violas.

I know, I know. The modern Corsican viola probably bears little resemblance to its original ancestor. But still, there's something quaint and vaguely antique about it, after all.

Plant Corsican violas in full or partial sun. Make sure the soil is well-draining and feed regularly. Like its cousin the pansy, this viola is a fairly heavy feeder.

The Limits of Local

2011-01-13T21:44:00.000-06:00

Are you a locavore? Do you garden organically? Have you got a vegetable garden? Are you a grower of native plants? Perhaps you have vegetarian leanings? Me, too. There are lots of us who fit that particular demographic and I got to thinking about what it would mean if everyone did. After the utopian rush, I started to feel a little nervous.

Where's MY farm?

I live in the coastal plain of Southeast Texas, on the outskirts of Houston, which is now the fourth-largest city in the US. In 2009, there were 5.9 million people in the Houston metro area. Houston itself is large -- the metro area encompasses almost 9,000 square miles or 5.76 million acres. Some of this land is arable, some is not. The picture above is a circle centered on my neighborhood, with a 100-mile radius. Part of the problem immediately springs to mind. A good chunk of the area within the 100-mile radius circle is underwater. Frankly, speaking as a gardener here, much of the rest of it is pretty dang soggy too.

So. What does locavorism mean for urban centers? For cities on the coast? For cities that abut desert lands, or marshes? If we were serious about eating locally grown food, what exactly would we eat here, in the Houston area? Stay tuned...

Native Plants, Native Pests, Cultivated Weeds

2011-01-10T21:18:00.000-06:00

I'm always thinking about plants and reading about plants. Sometimes a theme emerges, and lately it's the division between native and exotic plants, between weeds and cultivated plants.

Arundo donax. Exotic invasive in the US.

Among a certain set of gardeners, native plants are widely thought to make better garden choices because they are bred for their own specific environment, and are often food and/or shelter for native wildlife. Fair enough. I pretty much agree with this idea, in general. In theory. I guess. Sometimes I'm a little disheartened at my garden's prospects, should I go native. I live in what was once a vast coastal prairie that has now all but vanished. I'm not sure it's even possible now to recreate the native environment on a scale as small as my yard. Plus I think I'm too short to live in a tallgrass prairie.

Pennisetum purpuream. Exotic. Invasive in Florida.

But that's not really what's on my mind. Here's a question: if native plants are best suited to the local environment, and native wildlife has evolved to use them for food and shelter, haven't native pests also evolved to prey on them? If we broaden our idea of wildlife to include plant pathogens and irritating insects, would we be happy to plant natives for them?

Elephant Ears (Colocasia). Invasive exotic.

It's true that sometimes a plant actually thrives in a region far removed from its origins. Sometimes it thrives so much it becomes a nasty invasive. I'm thinking of the destruction wrought on the aforementioned coastal prairie by the Chinese Tallow tree, an exotic species gone wild. Though it is not native to this area, it is certainly well-adapted here. And we all can think of native plants that are notoriously fussy and hard to grow in their own, original environment. The Dogwood (Cornus florida) springs to mind.

More on this subject later. Weeds. Crops. Ornamentals. Politics and policy. What a tangled mess!

On Hardware, Software and Little Green Leaves

2011-01-07T21:53:00.000-06:00

It's been a rather trying week at the garden center and it all seemed to come to a head on Friday. I won't bore you with all the details, but we've been struggling with our computer system software and our little John Deere tractor.

Joanie, Dear. Good girl.

The supplies we need to unload are heavy -- the average pallet of soil or mulch weighs over a ton. You need quite a bit of weight in the back to counterbalance the load. It turns out that even an 800 lb. mower isn't quite enough. What's required? A truck driver, a sales representative and a willing, if nervous, employee perched on the mower like anxious birds. What happened next? Back to the tractor store for a counseling session, a $14 part and a pep talk. Then on to the garden center to fill the back tires with water for additional ballast.

Boo. Hiss.

The computerized cash register system we chose is imperfect, as they all are. No matter what the issue seems to be, the answer (cheerfully provided by helpful phone operators in a land far, far away) is the same. Upgrade your product for an additional pile of money, and then perhaps it will work as advertised. This week, I made an executive decision to stop throwing good money after bad where the computers are concerned. We'll make do without the bells and whistles for a little while longer. Deep breath.

Happy pansies.

It wasn't until late in the evening, while I was watering a few dry flats of winter flowers, that I was able to see how beautiful the sky really was. How sweet the leaves of Salvia clevelandii smell. How grateful the little pansies were for a drink of water.

I'm glad I was able to take a moment to reconnect with the outside world. It makes all the difference to end the week like that, among the green things. Time enough next week for the glitches, gotchas and gimmicks.

Beautiful Sedum Palmeri

2011-01-05T20:04:00.000-06:00

I always think of dry, hot weather when I think of sedum, but this lovely sedum palmeri is enjoying a rainy winter day in Richmond, Texas. Now, it was warm for winter -- almost 72°!

Sedum palmeri

This sedum is native to Mexico, and it does produce yellow, starry flowers, but I love the soft pink blush on the edges of the mature leaves. It's most at home in a light, well-draining soil with afternoon shade in the summer. In fact, it would probably be happy with afternoon shade all year long -- a perfect hanging basket or container plant.

It's not altogether hardy here in zone 9A. If we get the Arctic blast that's forecast for mid-month, I'll bring them in or cover them, especially since these are little baby plants. Other than that, it's a reliably carefree plant!

Note: this plant is also known as Sedum palmeri emarginatum.

New Year, New Directions

2011-01-01T08:57:00.000-06:00

High anxiety and great excitement, in equal parts. That's what the new year holds for me, as I embark on my next big adventure.

My garden center, Papershell: A Garden Gallery, opens February 1, a scant 30 days from today! I'm thrilled to be back in the business and excited to be working on something just a little bit different. Let me tell you a little bit about Papershell.

Native Texas pecan

Why Papershell? One of our most beautiful native trees is the pecan, and when the shells are thin and easy to crack, they're called papershells. Pecan trees are a little wild, with a rangy habit. They prefer the deep soils of the river bottom and when planted in the right spot can reach upwards of 100 feet tall. The pecan is the Texas state tree, and the nuts are highly prized for holiday baking.

Solitary, by Jo Edwards

Why Garden Gallery? We have an art gallery instead of a traditional garden center gift shop. There are so many wonderful artists and craftspeople working in our own community! It seemed silly to order mass-produced goods, shipped in from another country. Our idea for the gallery: "Original art for original people." Meet Jo Edwards, one of our featured artists this spring, at an Artist Chat on Saturday, February 5 at 4:00 pm.

But we're all about the plants, too. We stock a nice mix of flowering plants, shrubs and trees along with seasonal herbs and vegetables. We're so excited to partner with Urban Harvest in offering a 7-class gardening series this spring. And we're proud to employ Texas Certified Nursery Professionals and Master Gardeners who are passionate about plants. Real plants. Real people.

So if you're in the area, stop by and say hello. Have a cup of coffee. Pick herbs in our community garden. Wander beneath the trees for a while. Get out in the country! We're between Richmond and Rosenberg, just 2 miles off the freeway. Here's a map -- we're looking forward to meeting you.

P.S. Find us on Facebook, too!

Tomato Forest Bids You Farewell

2010-12-31T11:40:00.000-06:00

Well, two hard freezes in a row may have been too much for the tomato forest. After Wednesday's heavy rains washed all the dead and dying leaves off the plants, there really wasn't much left. Some of the plants in the very back still had bright green leaves and even flowers, but their time is past. Which is fine, really. It's almost time to plant spring tomatoes!

Ripening on the dining room table now...

This year, the fall tomatoes produced very well, but just a little too slowly for the weather. You never can tell: some years, we don't get a frost until very late, and some years it sneaks up on us. Most of these tomatoes will ripen on the counter, and the ones that don't we'll eat anyway.

Heavy equipment optional.

Fried green tomatoes isn't just a movie -- they're the easiest things in the world to cook. Slice them fairly thick, dip them in something like milk, buttermilk or egg, then dredge them in something like cracker crumbs, bread crumbs or cornmeal. Then fry them up! I like mine with some sort of sauce. Marinara sauce is good, but it doesn't seem right to serve tomatoes with tomato sauce. Try sour cream mixed with a judicious amount of prepared horseradish. There are probably young people in this very house who would vote for ketchup -- but don't listen to that sort of nonsense.

Cheers, and Happy New Year to you all!

Who's In, Who's Out

2010-12-28T18:45:00.000-06:00

Okay, I'll confess. You may have heard me declaim that I never protect plants in the winter. And it's true, mostly. If you're planted in the ground, you'd better be able to stand on your own two feet in my garden, metaphorically speaking.

However, I realized this weekend (after two hard freezes in a row) that there are some container plants that I do lug into the house each winter. Fewer and fewer every year, it turns out, because at the moment of truth, there are always some that do not make the cut. This year, a ratty old mandevilla has been left to freeze to death. And that Northern Maidenhair fern that moped for a solid year? Abandoned to the bitter north wind. (In my dark little heart, I believe it served him right!)

The best of the bunch.

But in the interests of truth and justice, I not only take it back my rash statements regarding winter protection, I offer proof of what a pitiful winter gardener I actually am. The picture above is my south-facing bathroom window. The light in there is so bright that I have to use the blinds or the clivias would frizzle up and die. Here's where I have my portulacarias, the two clivias and a hoya. And now that I see how ratty the hoya looks, I'm almost wishing I had left it on the back porch to fend for itself.

Red philodendron, the vining sort.

Here's the red philodendron, who's only just now recovered from the sunburn he received at the beginning of the spring. I really should not keep container plants!

Here's the kitchen window -- a motley assortment if ever there was one. Two paddle plants (Kalanchoe thyrsiflora); a clivia that almost died and is now, slowly, trying to recover; an amaryllis that I haven't gotten around to planting in the garden yet; a cutting from said ratty hoya; a toad lily and a peacock ginger. My daughter inadvertently dug up the ginger and I never replanted it either. So here they sit, accusingly. (Don't you think they look sullen?)

And finally, the window by the front door, a horticultural shame. The poor croton not only got too cold the other night, it needs water in the worst way. And I haven't watered it because I can't find my plastic saucers. You can't find them in stores right now either, so we're at a stalemate. Sitting next to the croton are two different sorts of pothos ivy. One is a variegated white and green one but the other is just a plain old variegated yellow one. I should have left him outside too, especially since there's an old wren nest in that pot. I think I'd really rather have wrens than that old ivy.

So there! I do bring provide some winter protection for some plants. Now that I seem them all sadly arrayed in the house, I wonder why I bother. Bah humbug to winter!

Santa Sent An Osprey!

2010-12-25T07:00:00.000-06:00

Osprey defends his catch

I spotted this huge beauty from the freeway. Ospreys aren't that common around here, particularly not in urban areas like Sugar Land, Texas. And he was in good company. Quite a few waterbirds were gathered at a small, corporate "lake" within yards of US59: several cormorants, a great blue heron, white herons, ibises, and one quiet anhinga. But the osprey dwarfed them all.

Distinctive dark brown line through the eye

Ospreys have a 6-foot wingspan and feed exclusively on fish. They have specially adapted talons for holding slippery prey. It was almost as big a surprise to see a fish this big! This osprey kept a tight hold on his fish, though crows harassed him and he was followed by a curious family on their way to Christmas Eve dinner.

Makes a musical, chirpy sound, not a screechy cackle

I love seeing extraordinary birds like this so close to home. I'm sure it's thrilling to go on birdwatching trips all over the world, but to me, there's something so gratifying about getting to know the local birds and being surprised every now and again but uncommon visitors like the osprey.

Sometimes called a "Sea Eagle"

I will say it helps immensely to have a designated driver on these highway birdwatching adventures! Without the Chief Engineer's steady hand on the wheel, you'd probably be reading about me in the paper by now! Merry Christmas and keep your eyes open -- you never know who's visiting your area today.

Foliage Friday: Yaupon 'Pride of Houston'

2010-12-24T07:00:00.000-06:00

Okay, I'm cheating a little. I love the plant not so much for its foliage, although it does have neat, trim little green leaves. But the entire plant just says Christmas to me.

Yaupon 'Pride of Houston'

Yaupon 'Pride of Houston' (or Ilex vomitoria 'Pride of Houston') is an improved cultivar of our beautiful native yaupon holly. It has a neat, upright growth habit, and many more berries than the unimproved variety. To me, the trunk seems more white, which makes for a great contrast with the dark green, toothed leaves and the brilliant red berries.

'Pride of Houston,' like its native cousin, tolerates a wide array of light conditions, from full sun to mostly bright shade. It's not picky either about soil and will grow in sand or clay. It does tend to sucker, but makes a pretty multi-trunk shrub or small tree if left unpruned.

I can say from personal experience that mockingbirds and cedar waxwings will love you for planting yaupon hollies!

Note: the dwarf yaupons sold as small, compact, evergreen pom-poms won't produce fruit -- they're sterile.

Camellia, Queen of the Southern Garden

2010-12-23T07:00:00.000-06:00

I have a thing about camellias. I don't have one in my garden, and I've been doing without since 1990. Twenty years! It surprises me to realize that it's been that long. But 20 years ago, I had just the right camellia growing in just the right place, and I've never been the same since.

Camellia 'Shi Shi Gashira'

Camellias can be fussy customers here. They seem to prefer a more acidic soil than I've got here in the river bottom. They like bright shade, but not the north wind. Not too much water, not too little. No pruning, Feeding after blooming, just like azaleas. They can be susceptible to various fungal diseases like flower blight, and insect pests, like scales. Moreover, they sometimes drop their flower buds for no apparent reason -- it's their way of complaining that conditions are no longer just right.

If I had never successfully grown camellias, I think I would be over them by now. But I can't forget those huge old shrubs, over 8 feet tall, growing as if they hadn't a care in the world. Of course, that garden was 25 miles away from here, and I'm sure the soil is better, and the high shade was preferable to what I've got. Et cetera, et cetera.

Meanwhile, I pine away like a jilted lover and long for my camellias.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-12-22T07:00:00.002-06:00

Circle of Life -- Unintended Consequences

2010-12-20T11:39:00.000-06:00

Preferred name: Giant Mouse

Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words, isn't that what they say? But here's the back story, if you're interested.

Wildlife gardening

We love to feed the wild birds and try to keep a variety of feeders around the garden. It's such a treat to see the perky little chickadees nibble on sunflower seeds. We've enjoyed watching cardinals and wrens raise their families. Witnessing the great hummingbird migration is a special turning point of the spring and fall season. And lately, though they don't come to bird feeders, we've enjoyed a nightly chorus of owls, calling to each other back and forth in the late evening.

Not shy at all -- will hold his ground until the last second.

But. There's a reason those owls are hanging around now. These creatures, which I prefer to think of as giant mice, are also attracted to the birdseed we put out for our friends, the birds. The giant mice don't realize they are unwanted. It's a paradise on earth for them, until they're snatched up one evening by a hungry owl.

Where's an owl when you really need one?

Feeding the birds attracts giant mice -- bad. But the giant mice in turn attract owls (good) and larger snakes (perhaps not so good). In my heart, I know the answer. Don't put out birdseed, Rely on native plantings to attract wildlife. And accept that sometimes wildlife is just that: wild. Sigh. Mother Nature and her furry little team win again. That is, until the owls come up to bat.

Foliage Friday: Variegated Aspidistra

2010-12-17T13:00:00.000-06:00

Variegated Cast Iron Plant

Or Aspidistra elatior variegata. I have a thing for variegated plants, particularly white shades. I have been so pleased with this variegated Aspidistra, which was the centerpiece in a summer arrangement with caladiums, pink sweet potato vine and pentas.

Aspidistra elatior variegata

Some gardeners around here look down their noses at Aspidistra. It's common, they sniff. Overused. Uninteresting. But perhaps they haven't seen the striking variegated version. Just as tough as the solid green "Cast Iron Plant," variegated aspidistra performs well in light shade and can burn if scorched by the hot rays of the afternoon sun.

Fancy in white stripes

It's rather slow-growing, which makes it a perfect addition to a container garden. Although it's well-adapted to our zone 9A winters, frost can burn new growth. I admit, I've never had this problem, since mine is growing under the protective canopy of a live oak. Aspidistra is very drought-tolerant once established and if you can bear to cut the pretty variegated leaves, you can use them in bouquets indoors. The leaves last a long time in vases. The only trouble I've ever had with aspidistra? Snails. In this world, I'll never escape them.

Happy Belated Bloom Day!

2010-12-16T20:07:00.000-06:00

I don't know what I was thinking, to miss the Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day. It's graciously hosted by Carol at May Dream Gardens and I'm usually on the ball enough to participate. But today, a day late and a dollar short!

Welcome to the Scrooge edition of Bloom Day! No, I'm not in a bad mood. I just couldn't shake the feeling that the garden was showing me a glimpse of the past, present and future.

Here's the ghost of garden past, the spare, spent look of blossoms just going to seed. Accompanied by the wild tropical remnants of Hurricane Bougainvillea!

Alternanthera

Bougainvillea

Here's the ghost of garden present, the few bright winter annuals I planted this year.

Calendula

Pink Dianthus. Forgot to deadhead!

White Dianthus, which I like better.

Faithful penta.

Popcorny Snapdragons

Here's the ghost of garden future, new buds and hopeful beginnings.

Rose 'Spice'

Rose 'Valentine'

Australian Rosemary (Westringia fruticosa)

Happy Bloom Day, and be sure to check out the wonderful posts at May Dreams Gardens! Thanks again, Carol, for hosting!

Wordless Wednesday

2010-12-15T07:00:00.001-06:00

Green Stink Bug

2010-12-14T07:00:00.001-06:00

It's December 14, and still not enough winter to slow down the Green Stink Bug. This little rascal has many different host plants, and is always hanging around my garden somewhere. And even though we've had two light freezes, he still soldiers on, sucking the life out of whatever plant he feeds on. And they're prolific! Each adult female produces on average over 250 eggs, though she completes her life cycle in as little as two months.

Green Stink Bug

Stink bugs have piercing mouthparts and damage plants by sucking juices from young tender growth and developing fruit. They always seem to have an eye out for my tomatoes, and I struggle to control them in the spring. You'd think by now, when we're covering the ripening tomatoes against early frosts and freezes, that the stink bugs would be overwintering elsewhere, but here they still are. As ever. Yuck.

By the way, the best control I've found is just to squash them, stink and all. I've not had good success with organic methods. I think they're tougher than I am!

Humble Garden, Heavenly Sight

2010-12-09T07:00:00.000-06:00

Driving around at 9:00 am, in a very modest neighborhood close to my house, I came across a waterfall of pink flowers that were fairly throwing themselves over a wooden fence. After a careful look around, I hopped out to take a few pictures, which always makes me a little nervous, to tell the truth.

Podranea ricasoliana

But I love these serendipitous moments. You'll see some lovely things on garden club tours, but if you keep your eyes open, any neighborhood can surprise you. Someone in this simple little house carefully planted a flowering vine in just the right spot and was rewarded with this stunning show. I picture a sweet motherly type in a housecoat, who got her pink trumpet vine from her family in the Valley. She may have bought it at a nursery, but it's a plant we don't often see for sale. So I imagine her carrying her little cutting home wrapped in wet paper towels and aluminum foil. Only she called it "tin foil."

Also known as Pink Trumpet Vine

She planted it never knowing its botanical name, Podranea ricasoliana. But her own mother told her to plant it in a sunny spot, give it plenty of water in the summer, and plenty of room. It's a vigorous vine, like its orange cousin, Campsis radicans. And like the orange trumpet vine, it blooms in late fall, offering the migrating hummingbirds one last sip of nectar before they head south for the winter.

Glorious in the late fall

She was relieved when her pretty vine came roaring back from last winter's freeze. She needn't have worried -- Podranea is root hardy even a zone north of us. She'll be enjoying this beautiful vine for years to come, and passing along her own carefully wrapped cuttings.

Cheerful cup-shaped faces

My thanks to this unknown gardener, for providing me with not only a cheery surprise but a story that inspired my gardening heart.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-12-08T07:00:00.002-06:00

Visit From An Aztec Warrior

2010-12-04T07:00:00.000-06:00

I've been waiting for this! Caracaras are not uncommon here, but I never seem to have my camera ready. This beautiful member of the falcon family obliged me by sitting quietly in the morning sun, waiting to have his picture taken.

Crested Caracara, watching the morning pass by.

The Caracara is the national bird of Mexico and you can see why: it has an almost stylized appearance. To see one sitting on a pole like this is wonderful, but it is incredible to watch one fly low over a meadow or land, with those huge feet outstretched, on a poor, unsuspecting mouse. Once you see a Caracara, you'll never mistake it for any other bird of prey.

Mexican Coat of Arms. Look familiar?

Caracaras are also known to feed on carrion and have a widely varied diet. It prefers open grasslands, where it can keep a sharp eye out for dinner, and only ventures as far north as Texas, Arizona and Florida. Although it's common here, I understand it's becoming more rare in Florida as habitat disappears.

Foliage Friday: Mahonia 'Soft Caress'

2010-12-03T07:00:00.001-06:00

Mahonia 'Soft Caress'

I'm excited about this plant. You're probably familiar with the more traditional mahonias. Around here, they are very dependable shade plants. Chinese mahonia get about 5' tall, and, though they have slender leaves, are rather spiny and tough. Leatherleaf mahonia is even more spiny, having a holly-shaped leaf and a rough-looking, coarse texture. I always thought I should like them. They are fairly drought-tolerant and extremely dependable for most people. But that spiny texture always disagreed with me. I just could never warm to mahonia.

Mahonia 'Soft Caress'

Until I saw this beautiful Mahonia eurybracteata 'Soft Caress,' whose elegant, bamboo-like leaves are so inviting. This one was developed by ItSaul Plants, and is more similar to Chinese mahonia. It's also evergreen, and a little smaller, reaching only about 3 feet tall. It has yellow flowers, arranged in racemes, but I love it for its delicate leaves. It seems so much more friendly than other mahonia -- makes you just want to pet it, doesn't it?

We Got A Freeze After All

2010-12-02T10:00:00.001-06:00

Not a very hard freeze. It was 30° at the Sugar Land airport when I got up at 5:30 Wednesday morning. Which means it probably got to 30° in some unprotected parts of my garden too. And a hard frost! I know it's a problem for gardeners, but I love the sparkle of the first hard frosts. I took a drive before the frost had melted, but after the bright sun was shining. Gorgeous! Our version of winter beauty: bright, clear, dark blue sky (in the summer, the sky bleaches to almost white), golden grasses, sparkly frost, a few yellow leaves. It's a stark beauty, one you have to get used to. But I love it.

Ouch! Tomato forest gets stung again.

In the garden, the tops of the tomato forest burned a bit more. I don't think the plants will die, and I don't think it will harm the tomatoes. I'm just waiting for a few to begin to ripen! I think I'm almost there. I'm keeping my fingers crossed we don't get a really terrible freeze before that happens. On the other hand, I didn't cover them. I'm resigned, either way.

Nasturtiums show only minor damage

The nasturtiums got a bit of a snap, too. I don't know, really, whether the frost or dehydration got these leaves. It was very windy Tuesday ahead of the cold front. Extremely windy!

These are fine.

These too!

And these!

The lettuces don't notice light freezes and frosts, which made me wonder. Why don't those tender looking leaves suffer in the cold and wind? All the other plants I have with large leaves dehydrate so badly. Where did lettuce originate, that it is so deceptively hardy? I came across several answers: Egypt, Persia, Greece. All relatively warm places. So I ask you -- why does lettuce laugh at frost?

Snapdragons look like buttered popcorn!

And here is the reason I like to plant flowers in the vegetable garden. It means I'm always successful!

Wordless Wednesday

2010-12-01T18:26:00.002-06:00

Frost Warning? I'm Just Sayin'...

2010-11-29T21:43:00.000-06:00

You remember last year how, not only was there frost but SNOW on December 4th?

Cabbages fight it off!

I don't think it'll snow this week, but we've already had a frost at my house, and it looks likely for Tuesday night. Frost can damage plants even if the air temperature doesn't actually get below freezing. This always seems like a hard fact to accept here in semi-tropical zone 9A. But this is the time of year for that sort of thing. Plants aren't hardened off. The weather changes rapidly from mild, sunny days to bleak, chilly days. What to watch out for? Calm, clear, dry nights.

No ill effects.

The heat absorbed by the earth is released or radiated into the atmosphere at night. Clouds help keep that layer of heat closer to the surface of the earth, and slow the radiation. Wind helps mix cold air and warm air, maintaining a bit warmer air than might otherwise occur on still nights. And humidity slows temperature change. We notice this most in the summer, when our hot humid nights barely cool down to 80° before it's time to heat up again in the morning.

Amaryllis soft tissue ruined, but plants survived.

Radiation frosts can occur even if the air temperatures remain above freezing. What's happened? The surface temperature of the plant has dropped below freezing, even though the air has not, and if sufficient moisture is in the air, ice crystals may form.

Night photo of frost-bitten tomatoes

The frost last week got the top of the tomato forest, but overall the plants look okay. I think it's best to leave frost or freeze-damaged foliage on the plant, to provide a bit of protection throughout the winter. If I pruned back to live, healthy tissue, more of the plant would suffer damage in the next frost. Yes, it's ugly. After I harvest the tomatoes, I'll pull them out. But landscape plants are best left alone, unpruned, until March. You don't want to encourage new growth midwinter, either.

We like to get all excited about winter here, because we get so little of it! I imagine those zone 4 and 5 gardeners are laughing at us right now, worrying about our little frosts. That's okay -- I chuckle to myself when they complain about humidity!

Charisma

2010-11-27T20:23:00.000-06:00

That's the name of this beautiful amaryllis. You may remember that I heroically limited myself to one amaryllis bulb this year at the Garden Club of Houston's Bulb and Plant Mart. I'm in the habit of forcing the amaryllis bulbs for the holiday season, then planting them in the garden to bloom forever more. This usually results in blooms for Thanksgiving (if I've chosen a South African variety) or Christmas (if I've chosen a Dutch variety). 'Charisma,' as it turns out, is a Dutch amaryllis, but bloomed just in time for the Thanksgiving holiday -- and I was grateful.

Amaryllis 'Charisma'

Truthfully, I never consider whether the bulbs are European or South African, though. I look for a color that I don't already have, and, to some degree, for height. I like shorter, fatter stems that might not have to be staked once they are blooming on their own in the garden.

Growing amaryllis is as tradition in my family that goes back a century or more. Some of the bulbs in my garden were handed down from my great-grandmother. These long-lived plants are easy to propagate by division and also set seed, so once established, an amaryllis bed can carry on for a long, long time. So whenever an amaryllis gardener in my family has to move, we dig up the bulbs before the house ever goes on the market and move them to a safe harbor. Then we plant them in a new home, keeping the circle unbroken, if you will.

Amaryllis 'Charisma,' right before fully open

I have probably 150 or more individual amaryllis plants in my backyard, which is entirely too many. I'm breaking all the garden design rules for texture and leaf shape. I have one: long, sword-shaped foliage, which indicates a severe case of bulb mania. I sometimes think I should try to restrain myself, maybe plant something else, maybe give away some of the amaryllis. After all, they only bloom once a year and it would be nice to have something showy in other seasons, too. But when all is said and done, I can't resist. This is the first year, in fact, that I've been able to stop at just one!

Oh, well. When I am all covered up in amaryllis leaves, just put a plaque on the front door and we'll call it a living memorial to my generations of gardening women forebears.

Black Friday: How We Made It Through

2010-11-26T20:22:00.000-06:00

I don't know what possessed me. I had the carpet cleaners come Wednesday evening. We went to my in-laws Thursday for lunch. And when we got home in the late afternoon, I decided to sell my car on craigslist. Not quite realizing that it might conflict with the dinner for 10 I'd planned on Friday.

Stand back, please!

So in between simmering and stirring, sweeping and dusting, moving furniture, chopping onions and setting tables, I reached out for a bit of good old-fashioned spirits, in the form of sangria. It was a cold, windy, blustery day, but a batch of sangria always makes it feel like summer. Here's the recipe:

60 ml (2 ounces) brandy
.5 liter (or about 2 cups) Triple Sec
1 liter (34 ounces) Tom Collins mix
1-1.5 liters red wine (1-2 bottles)
1 orange, thinly sliced
2 apples, cored and thinly sliced

Combine and pour over ice in pitchers. Apply as needed to stressful day. As for craigslist, you're on your own!

Birdwatching: Minor Challenges, Major Thrills

2010-11-25T07:00:00.001-06:00

Red-Shouldered Hawk?

I believe this beauty is a Red-Shouldered Hawk. I'm forever getting them confused with Red-Tailed Hawks and part of the problem is that birds are named after their least conspicuous marking! I mean, really! Wouldn't you call this one a Red-Chested Hawk? It's also pretty difficult to see the shoulders of a hawk, if you want to know the truth. I was lucky with this one. Usually they are perched above my head or flying.

Red-Tailed Hawk?

Here's the picture of what I think is a Red-Tailed Hawk, from an earlier blog entry. You can't really see the tail in this picture, but I can promise you, it doesn't look red. Not to me at least. Maybe we could call this one the "White-Chested Hawk." If the names were more descriptive, I could probably remember them better!

These are two of our most common hawks, so I'll have plenty more opportunities to practice! Happy Thanksgiving to everyone!

Wordless Wednesday

2010-11-24T07:00:00.001-06:00

Crape Myrtles Treat Us To Fall Color

2010-11-23T07:00:00.000-06:00

Crape Myrtle leaf

Last year, it seemed like the Bradford pear trees were unusually colorful. This year, it's the crape myrtles. All around my neighborhood, these lovely ornamental trees area covering themselves in shades of red and gold. Most of them, that is. My trees, 'Basham's Party Pink,' do not seem particularly lovely, perhaps when compared to the neighbors' trees.

Within yards of my nondescript trees.

I'm not sure what variety of crape myrtles are planted in our common areas. They're a small to medium-statured tree with pinky-lilac flowers, perhaps 'Muskogee.' They're all in various stages of fall coloration and it's beautiful, especially on days like this when it's overcast.

They have a lovely, smooth bark, too!

Crape myrtles were introduced (from Asia) in 1747, and are common throughout the southern US. We like to say they are "the lilic of the South," but having lived in northern climes, I have to disagree. Crape myrtles lack the scent, which seems to me to be the main thing about lilacs. But their bloom season is very, very long -- almost all summer.

Happy fall!

And then, too, we occasionally get these wonderful autumn days when the crape myrtles form a blazing backdrop for a few bare branches. Enjoy!

My Favorite Fall Flower: Calendula

2010-11-22T07:00:00.001-06:00

Keeps going and going!

No, not chrysanthemum. Calendula, or pot marigold. These cool-weather favorites are just the right cheery shades for fall. For me, they're untroubled by disease or insects and tend to reseed generously. The new seedlings don't often make it through our hot seasons, but I've got to give them credit for trying.

Stems are long enough for cutting flowers.

Calendulas are very tough flowers and really only need protection during severe (for us!) cold weather. To tell the truth, I don't cover mine at all. Most years, they keep on blooming right up through June before they start to look raggedy and spent. If I were conscientious, I'd collect seed. But I'm not. I buy them in the fall at the garden center and pop them in.

Tend to sprawl -- not for the regimented gardener!

Calendulas perform best for me in full sun, although these seem pretty happy in morning sun. They tend to spread out or sprawl, so I plant them about 12" apart. They rebloom best if you deadhead them, but I never do. You saw those dianthus back on Bloom Day: they went into complete horticultural shock because I deadheaded them for their photo opportunity. Never happened to them before and probably never will again!

Fencing keeps out garden predator dogs!

All parts of the calendula are edible, and I grow mine in the vegetable garden. You can sprinkle the petals in salads or use them to give a yellow tint to icings, rice, egg dishes or sauces. The leaves taste bitter to me, but you can eat them if you want to!

Triangle Flashback, I think...

Look for varieties like Art Shades, which are double or semi-double; Bon Bon, a fully double variety with a little dark center; Neon, whose orange petal-tips are edged with burgundy; and Triangle Flashback, my favorite, with a large, showy dark center. Here's a hint: calendulas look far better at home in your flowerbed than they sometimes do at the nursery. Don't be afraid to buy them if they're full, lush and green but aren't blooming yet. They will! And they'll last and last and last.

Thanksgiving color scheme

Foliage Friday: Dianella tasmanica variegata

2010-11-19T07:00:00.006-06:00

This is one of my favorite foliage plants. Don't be fooled: the plant label will mention a flower, but it's insignificant. The main attraction is the bright, clear variegated pattern of the leaves. You may read that this plant can take full sun, but I think it performs better in morning sun or light shade. The variegated one seems especially sensitive to full sun and may suffer from burning on the margins if left to bake in the August heat.

See the tiny flowers?

Dianella tasmanica is more often called Flax Lily and is almost always evergreen here in zone 9A. If you want to avoid freezer burn, cover the newly planted ones on frosty nights. This species of Dianella gets about 2 feet tall and is getting more and more popular as a landscape plant. You should be able to find it at most area nurseries. Start with a rather larger plant, because it tends to grow rather slowly. Dianella is a tough little plant, though, and should be relatively trouble-free once established.

Wonderful massed as a groundcover.

Some sources claim that Dianella is named after Diana, the Roman goddess of nature and hunting. Maybe so!

Vegetable Garden Update

2010-11-18T07:00:00.000-06:00

The garden is a good place for meditating.

Even though the sweet potato harvest was not so good, I still have high hopes for the fall garden. Sometimes I think fall gardening is more a matter of luck than skill. And I feel lucky! No real bug problems so far, and believe me, I am knocking wood whenever I even think about this.

We decorate our veggie gardens!

I have these two little former square foot gardens, which have reverted to simply raised beds. I like the neat look of the little dividers, but Mel and I have parted ways. I think the mix he recommends is to peaty for our hot climate and I feel a little guilty about using up a nonrenewable resource like peat anyway. Mixed in with the flowers, we have garlic, cabbage, fennel, oregano, two kinds of chives and marjoram. Those are carrots hiding under the skirts of a calendula.

Mostly greens, onions and flowers.

Lettuce and onions mix it up with nasturtiums and sweet peas. Almost time to pick that one row of lettuce. Just in time for Thanksgiving!

The tomato forest with lettuce seedlings.

And speaking of Thanksgiving, it's always my hope that I'll have fresh tomatoes. I'm getting a little anxious about that, though! The tomatoes are probably 7 feet tall now and each one is covered with green tomatoes, but not a single one looks even remotely like it's beginning to ripen. At the foot of the tomato forest, where the sweet potatoes were, I've planted more lettuce and carrots.

The frontrunners.

Will they be ripe for Thanksgiving? I don't think so!

Wordless Wednesday

2010-11-17T07:00:00.000-06:00

Tree Mutilation Time Again

2010-11-16T07:00:00.000-06:00

I get it about the electrical lines. I do. It wasn't all that long ago that Hurricane Ike struck the Gulf Coast, leaving more than 2 million homes, apartments or businesses without electricity. It took three weeks and more than half a billion dollars to restore power here. Some of the trouble was caused by trees falling on or into power lines. So I get it. But oh, my God!

Live Oak.

These trees have had their very hearts cut out. I can't imagine how this is better than simply cutting them down in the first place. The transmission line people say that their own foresters will determine whether it's better to trim a tree or cut it down. I don't know what their criteria are, but I would bet that it has something to do with how much it costs to dispose of the tree and/or how much the tree owners complain.

An entire row of trees, all but destroyed.

And about those tree owners! Sometimes the power lines are installed after the trees are already planted. Sometimes trees grow up naturally under power lines and aren't cut down as seedlings by the mowers because they're sheltered by a fence line. But sometimes, very large trees are planted directly underneath the power lines. And some day, maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, their hearts will be cut out or their heads will be cut off.

What's left?

The sight of these mutilated trees is enough to give you nightmares.

At least they hire certified foresters!

Bloom Day, November 15

2010-11-15T07:00:00.000-06:00

November is an odd sort of time in the garden. It's fall here, such as it is. The very few trees that change color and lose their leaves are doing so, while the last of the tropical gingers and hibiscus continue blooming. In fact, bougainvillea is rejuvenated with the onset of cooler nights. It's a fidgety time, I think. Neither fish nor fowl. We plant our pansies, snapdragons, violas and such now. That's part of our fall color, and helps us cope with the loss of our coleus, caladiums, and vincas. But it's not a real fall. The weather will surprise you and the highs will climb into the 90s. The next day, a chilly rain will fall, and even though it's 56° outside, it will feel like 46°. An awkward disconnect between what it really is out there, and what it ought to be. Especially if you've been reading glossy gardening magazines.

So here's what's still blooming in my garden. A little fish, a little fowl, and really, none of the above.


Sweet Potato Vine. It really flowers!

Basil gone to flower and looking artsy and soft-focus.

Butterfly Gingers continue to show off.

Dianthus dying of shock, because I deadheaded it before I took this photo.

Faithful pentas.

Calendula. Very sparky!

Snapdragons -- a nod to the season.

Always in bloom, the Bottle Tree.

Every month, gardeners all over the world post pictures of flowers on their own blogs, and link to May Dreams Gardens, where Carol is gracious enough to host us. Hop over to May Dreams Gardens and see what the rest of the world has in store for you! Thanks, Carol!

Making The Most Of A Poor Harvest

2010-11-13T07:00:00.000-06:00

This is half the sweet potato harvest for this fall: it's all from one leftover 'Beauregard' planted near the tomato forest. You may remember that this one plant easily covered 20 square feet and was pruned by repeatedly driving over it. Maybe that had something to do with it...

Only one bucket!

Anyway, when all was said and done, we only got about four pounds of potatoes from that patch. We decided to eat it all in one sitting. If your heart is in good condition, you can make this recipe too: Sweet Potatoes Anna, modeled after the buttery French classic, Pommes Anna. Preheat your oven to 400°.

Makes the Chief Engineer very nervous.

Now's your chance to use your mandoline that's been gathering dust all this time. Slice about 3 pounds of potatoes as thinly as you can. Mine are really too thick, but it won't matter much. Melt a stick of butter (yes, an entire stick).

Rinsed and drained

Butter the bottom of a cast iron skillet or other ovenproof shallow pan, then arrange fans of potato slices. When the first layer is completed, brush it with melted butter. Sprinkle with salt, pepper and maybe a little bit of chopped fresh or dried thyme.

Ready for oven!

Continue making buttered layers of seasoned sweet potatoes. You'll need to press down with a spatula every so often, so that the layers compress together. When you run out of sweet potatoes, pour the rest of the butter over the top (if there is any), sprinkle a final time with salt, pepper and thyme. Pop into the hot oven for 30-45 minutes. Keep a watchful eye after 30 minutes: it may burn on the top before it cooks all the way through, especially if your slices are thicker. It's done when it's easily pierced with a knife or fork.

No inverting: it's a weeknight.

Remove from the oven. If you're feeling quite like a TV chef, you can invert it onto a plate. Otherwise, just serve and eat. Last night, we had braised baby bok choy with ours.

Delicious!

We're hoping for better production from our other sweet potato patch. It's planted with 'Bunch Porto Rican,' more plants, but in a smaller spot. We'll see!

Foliage Friday: Sacred Fig

2010-11-12T07:00:00.000-06:00

Ficus religiosa at the San Antonio Botanical Garden

Aren't those leaves pretty? This is Sacred Fig, or Ficus religiosa. It's considered sacred by followers of Hinduism, Jainism and Buddhism. Siddhartha Gautama was sitting under a Sacred Fig tree when he was enlightened. That tree was known as the Bodhi Tree and was destroyed in the second century B.C.

The Sri Maha Bodhi Tree. Photo: N.Chamal, licensed under the Creative Commons Act.

A direct descendant of that original holy tree, the Bodhi Tree, still survives. Known as the Sri Maha Bodhi, it was brought to Sri Lanka in 249 B.C. and is perhaps the oldest living angiosperm in the world. Certainly it is one of the world's great historical trees. It serves as the parent for other Sacred Figs planted around the world. Below is a Bodhi tree descendant, planted in the Foster Botanical Gardens in Hawaii.

Licensed under the Creative Commons Act.

These trees are native to India and prefer a tropical climate, but will tolerate life as a houseplant. Treat as you would a Ficus benjamina.

On Trees and Statistics

2010-11-11T07:00:00.000-06:00

Did you see the publicity on the recent study, conducted in Portland, Oregon, that concluded that large street trees actually reduce crime? Now I love trees. But when I heard about this study, soon to be published in the journal Environment and Behavior, I felt a curmudgeonly skepticism rear its ugly head.

I love trees. Even Bradford pears.

The study, performed by the US Forest Service, looked at several years of crime data, cross-referenced with aerial photographs, site visits and tax data. In part because one of the authors lived there, the study was confined to a single police precinct area in Portland consisting mainly of single family homes.

I love trees. Especially cedar elms.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the authors find that the presence of large trees is negatively correlated with crime. Smaller trees, however, are positively correlated with crime. Their conclusion? Big trees prevent crime, while small trees cause crime. I'm oversimplifying a tiny bit; the authors do explain in the final paragraph of a 29-page report that correlation is not causation, and that other variables are more strongly associated with crime and that unknown variables may have a large impact on crime prevention.

I love Baldcypresses.

You wouldn't know that from reading the rest of the report, though. Nor could you tell that from the press the study has received so far. For heaven's sake, don't put up burglar bars. They're positively correlated with crime. Make sure you have a tree that's at least 42 feet tall instead.

I love Weeping Yaupon.

I'm pretty sure that the large-tree factor is negatively correlated with crime. I'm just not convinced trees are preventing the crime. The same characteristics that cause people to care for trees is perhaps responsible for a (very slightly) lower crime rate. How about, for starters, home ownership versus renting? Income levels? Education levels? Previous history of crime? Economic conditions? Ethnic makeup?

I love conifers, too.

Oh well. Perhaps I'm just experiencing a "Bah humbug!" moment. May it soon pass!

You can read the entire study here.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-11-10T09:52:00.000-06:00

At the Houston International Quilt Festival

2010-11-08T07:00:00.000-06:00

It's our second-largest convention and the largest quilt show in the world. This is the 36th year the event has been held in Houston and almost $100,000 in prizes were awarded this year. More than 2,000 quilts and artworks were exhibited. And about 53,000 people attended. But we just call it "Festival!"

Hope, by Michelle M. Jackson

I like to go on Preview Night to get a sneak peek at the more than 1,000 vendor booths and then take some time by myself the next day to look at the quilts. Many of the quilts cannot be photographed but I like to take pictures where permitted. Sometimes it's only later, when I look at my photos, that I can figure out just where my head is. What sort of quilts are attracting my eye and why? What colors, themes or techniques and I drawn to? It's like Forster's quote about writing: How do I know what I think until I see what I say?

Swimmer's Clock, by Julie Duschack

I won't post all the pictures here, in deference to speedier page-loading, but these are a few of the quilts I thought were noteworthy.

Affection, by Eun Ryoung Choi


Return of the Grackle, by Diane Rusin Doran

Inspiration Draws From Nature's Art, by Patricia Delany

Big Bang, by Marianne R. Williamson

So what's on my quilt-mind? I'm torn between a very subtle color palette of mostly neutrals (I'm still very fond of the Daiwabo Taupe fabrics) and vivid reds and blues. Although I'm not naturally drawn to pictorial quilts, I liked the birds. I liked some of the more political quilts, like "Hope" and "Katrina I." The sensibility of many of the Korean and Japanese quilts resonated with me. I liked their unique interpretation of extremely traditional technique. Overall, I thought there were too many beads and crystals, but there were a few quilts featuring a bit more bling that I enjoyed. And I'm amazed at the machine quilting artistry on display. So much has changed in that regard over the past ten years or so. The control these artists achieve with their machines is nothing short of astonishing.

More photos and comments are posted here in a photo album optimized for viewing. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

It's Hawk Time!

2010-11-06T07:00:00.000-05:00

And I'm so glad my computer is fixed. We've been recovering from a hard drive failure but meanwhile, I've been indulging in one of my favorite pastimes: birdwatching while driving. Not recommended for amateurs or city-dwellers.

Sharp eyes, strong feet.

This is a great time of year for birdwatching in general around here. We live at the juncture of the great Central and Mississippi Migration Flyways, and there's no better opportunity to witness the great fall migration, beginning as early as July and lasting through the end of November. Many birds are returning to their winter homes in Texas just as the trees lose their foliage, making it even easier to spot these avian visitors.

18-25" tall, with a 48" wingspan

You can visit the Smith Point Hawkwatch and climb their 30-foot observation tower, or you can just keep your eyes open around home. I see so many hawks that I should really drive around with my camera in my lap! I'm just as pleased when I get a good look at a common local hawk and I am when I see something a bit more unusual.

Eats mainly small rodents

I particularly like hawks because I don't actually see all that well. It's hard for me to distinguish among our many tiny brownish birds! But a hawk's profile is so distinctive and they're usually larger birds. They have a characteristic body type, flight pattern and behavior, so even if I can't see them that well, I usually know what I'm looking at.

Generally mates for life.

And it really helps to have the camera, too! Then I can look at the pictures later, at my leisure, with my books, to try to figure out if its a Red-Tailed Hawk or a Red-Shouldered Hawk. I'm forever getting them mixed up. For the record, I'm going to go with Red-Tailed Hawk here. Now I'm waiting for a good Caracara photo opportunity!

Goodbye!

Wordless Wednesday

2010-11-03T07:00:00.000-05:00

The Season Winds Down

2010-11-02T07:00:00.000-05:00

Summer, that is. November 1 as I write this, the nominal end of summer, if not the hurricane season. And the garden looks like its holding on to the last few summer blooms, or resting up for the fall season. Here's one last crinum that surprised me yesterday. I thought they were all finished.

Summer's Last Crinum (probably!)

And the butterfly gingers continue to bloom, but slower now. The fragrance is powerful, and reminiscent of gardenias. If I were a hawk moth, I'd be there every night!

Wildly fragrant hedychium

Here are a few chrysanthemums, pale shadows of their cousins in garden centers now. These are about four years old, and planted in an east-facing flowerbed. When I planted them, they were dark lavender. Now they've reverted to their true nature. Which is sweet, small and not really worth it. They are the last mums I ever bought. I realized that I was constitutionally incapable of discarding them while there was the slightest evidence of life. Henceforth, I'm cursed with these weak sisters who really should be removed and other, sturdier plants put in. Live and learn.

Mums. Ehh!

The bougainvilleas seem much happier, though, now that the hellish heat of summer has broken. Even though we think of them as tropical bloomers, mine actually do much better in the spring and fall, when they can rest in the cooler, nighttime temperatures. I can't quite capture the color of these flowers -- they are quite an unearthly shade of purple. Mixed with that glowing morning glory of last week, they have an almost chemical aura.

Bougainvillea. Intense!

And this little ornamental pepper, like the famous bunny, keeps going and going. It either survived last winter or reseeded itself where it always does. I like it for its perky colors and for the fact that I don't have to pick or pickle them!

Ornamental peppers. No canning required!

And finally, here is Valentine, who's also pricking up her ears a bit. She likes the cooler temperatures too, but she's also celebrating the fact that I moved her to a sunnier location. She's had a sunny fall, with no rain to speak of. So, no blackspot!

Valentine. Redder than Knockout and just as healthy!

Loggerhead Shrike

2010-11-01T07:00:00.000-05:00

Recently Diana of Elephant's Eye blogged about the Fiscal Shrike and I was reminded to keep an eye out for own own small predator, the Loggerhead Shrike.

Loggerhead Shrike

Northern Mockingbird

He's such a handsome bird, with his trim black mask and black-edged wings. If you see him from a little distance, he looks almost like our state bird, the Northern Mockingbird. But the Northern Mockingbird is a sassy and fun-loving sort of fellow, and the Loggerhead Shrike is deadly serious.

Keeping a close eye out...

He uses his hooked beak to kill small birds and animals and often impales them on spikes or thorns for dining on later. He must use this cruel method because he lacks the sharp talons raptors use to tear prey apart.

You can barely see the hooked beak.

Shrikes aren't common backyard birds around here, preferring the open woodlands or grasslands. But if you keep an eye out, you can spot them easily enough. Yikes for shrikes!

Finally! Cool Enough For A Ragù

2010-10-31T07:00:00.000-05:00

No, not that kind -- a homemade spin on a traditional Italian sauce. When I was growing up, we called this "Spaghetti Roast," but it's really a sort of ragù, long-simmered and meaty.

I don't use a recipe when I cook this, but I tried to measure things in case you want to give it a try. It's a forgiving sauce. If you don't like a certain ingredient, don't add it. Feel free to substitute whatever you like!

Brown a little better than this!

I love Italian sausage, so I start with that. I browned about a pound of Italian sausage in my largest, heaviest pan over high heat. Sweet, hot, it doesn't matter. My sausage was ground. When it's in a casing, I slice it into half-inch pieces. After the sausage is browned, remove it to a bowl. There should be some fat still sizzling in the pan. If not, add a small dollop of olive oil. Next, add a 2-3 pound chuck roast. Or whatever sort of meat you like when you make pot roast. Brown well on both sides. I probably didn't brown this one quite enough. When the meat is browned on both sides, remove it to the bowl.

Bell pepper, onion and celery: the holy trinity

Next, add a mix of chopped vegetables. Today I used 2 stalks of celery, almost a whole white onion and a leek that was leftover from something else. Also, a whole green pepper. Watch the heat -- you want to brown these vegetables but not burn them. When the vegetables are almost tender, add a few cloves of chopped garlic. How much you add depends on how much you like garlic.

Seasoned but not cooked

Let the garlic cook for a minute or so, just until you can smell it. Now deglaze the pan. Usually I just add the tomato sauces, but I was lucky this morning and had a little bit of leftover red wine. Into the pot it went. I heated the wine, scraping up all the browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Then I added about 100 ounces of tomato-type products: tomato sauce, canned diced tomatoes, stewed whole tomatoes. Again, your choice. Around my house, people give you a funny look if there are too many whole tomatoes in the sauce, so I use 2 large cans of tomato sauce, 1 large can of diced tomatoes, and a small can of whole tomatoes.

Here's the fun part. You flavor the sauce with anything your heart desires. I use oregano, basil, crushed red pepper flakes, salt, black pepper, a teaspoon of white sugar, two bay leaves and fennel seeds. If you have tough old gardener hands, you just pour the seeds into your hand and mash them together between your palms, mortar and pestle style. The more Italian sausage I use, the less fennel I put in. You have to taste as you go, but I start with about half a tablespoon of dried oregano, a tablespoon of dried basil, a teaspoon of fennel seeds and a half-teaspoon of crushed red pepper. Salt and pepper to taste.

Not too hot!

Now nestle the browned meat down into the sauce, and bring just barely to a boil. Then turn the heat way down, cover the pot and let it cook on very low heat, all day. Actually, at this point, you could put the whole thing into a crockpot and forget about it. I usually don't -- just one more thing to wash! The idea is to cook a very long time, though, on very low heat. Don't simmer too hard or the meat will be tough.

Shredded into bite-sized pieces

After a few hours, take the chuck roast out of the sauce and let cool. Then shred the meat into bite-sized pieces, using your fingers. That way, you won't miss any stray pieces of fat or tendon that you want to remove.

Serve over hot cooked pasta!

Spoon the cooked meat back into the sauce and stir well. You can remove the bay leaves before serving if you like, but I don't. Whoever gets the bay leaf in the plate gets to kiss the cook!

This recipe made 20 cups of sauce that freezes well. Make it once and you can eat like a king every Sunday for the better part of autumn!

Foliage Friday: Nandina 'Blush Pink'

2010-10-29T07:00:00.001-05:00

Years ago, I developed a strong dislike, verging on hatred, for nandina. People who don't garden are always a little surprised that we can actually hate a plant, but we can and we do. Every gardener I know has a plant that she secretly (or not so secretly) despises, sometimes for no reason at all. I'll confess, I hate red annual salvia, like 'Lady in Red,' and also the bronze-leaf wax begonias. No reason. Just hate them.

But I had a good reason, long ago, for disliking nandina. The Chief Engineer and I had just bought our first house together, and I took it into my head to dig out the nandinas in the front and replace them with azaleas. The house boasted two huge Camellia japonicas, and to my way of thinking, only azaleas would do. Digging them out nearly killed us. Eventually, we had to tie one of the rootballs to the truck and pull it out.

However, it's been over 20 years and I'm coming around. This winter, the nandina were stunning, perhaps because most of our tropicals and semi-tropicals were so badly frozen. The leaf color was rich and dark green or red and the berries were abundant. I feel better about nandina now.

Nandina 'Blush Pink'

Here's a nandina that's especially pretty. 'Blush Pink' is a sport of an old nandina favorite, 'Firepower.' The new growth is almost red and contrasts nicely with the bright lime-green older foliage. This nandina's on the compact size and should only reach about 3 feet tall. All nandinas tolerate bright shade and make a nice, evergreen foundation plant for the South.

Note: some jurisdictions list Nandina, or Heavenly Bamboo, as an invasive species. Some experts disagree. They do sucker outward, forming ever-larger clumps.

Greetings From The Tomato Forest

2010-10-28T07:00:00.012-05:00

It wasn't supposed to be a tomato forest. I had such high hopes: this time, I'll really stay on top of the pruning. I need to take lessons from my friend Peg T., who's a ruthless pruner. Her tomatoes, therefore, suffer less from disease and sunlight is able to reach all the leaves. My tomatoes are aiming for the roof. There are only four plants here, in a 5 foot by 5 foot space.

See my optimistic little walkway?

You know how it is. At planting time, the tiny transplants look so adrift in the huge area allotted to them. Each little plant sulked during the heat of August, under its tiny tomato cabana. And now, they are reaching their green arms over the fence, wrestling with each other and with the fig ivy, breaking under the weight of their own leaves.

Sunchaser -- coming right along!

But so far, they look reasonably healthy. The hardest thing about the fall garden is the fact that all the insect pests are awake, alive and well. Sometimes we can get a head start on them in the spring, but not the fall. And this August was much hotter than I expected (like this October!). My plants have responded with lots of green growth, but not too much fruit set. Actually, I'm surprised any set at all, considering how warm late October has been. Yesterday and the day before both set records for heat: 90 and 91 degrees, respectively.

Sweet Million. Too hot to set fruit.

The first one to set fruit was Sun Chaser, a disease-resistant hybrid that supposed to perform well in hot weather. It has several good-sized green tomatoes on it now. Carmello and Champion both have teeny, tiny tomatoes. And little Sweet Million has lots of flowers, but so far, no fruit.

Here's hoping for a cool front!

Wordless Wednesday

2010-10-27T07:00:00.002-05:00

Odd and Unnatural? In Favor, I Think...

2010-10-26T07:00:00.000-05:00

I've been preoccupied with the idea of artificial turf for quite a while now, and I'm not sure if I've completely sorted out my thoughts yet. But here goes.

Victor's photo of newly installed synthetic grass

Recently my friend Victor had artificial grass installed in front of his family-owned nursery Plants For All Seasons. When I first saw the pictures, I was surprised -- it looked exactly like beautiful, healthy turf. The local SYNLawn distributor, Strickly Green Grass, installed it as a demonstration piece, using two different kinds in two different areas.

My snooty initial reaction? I turned up my nose. Who in their right mind would install artificial grass in their garden? Why, that's as bad as those hanging baskets of red silk geraniums! Right?!?

The same grass, several weeks later

Then I got to thinking a little bit more. Victor believes that water conservation will drive installation of synthetic grass, and that's a pretty serious topic. Even here, where we generally get more than 50" of rain per year, ground water supplies are limited. We don't pay even a fraction of what our water's really worth. So I had to ask myself what my problem really was.

Because I myself have criticized the Texas lawn culture and deplored the incredible amount of water applied to turfgrasses. (Which is generally far in excess of what the grass actually needs, but that's for another blog.) I have shaken my head at carpets of grass verging on 4 inches thick, the product of overfertilization, followed by overwatering, and then the application of fungicides to combat disease induced by overfeeding and overwatering. And I had to ask myself this question: Which is worse, synthetic grass or grass kept perfectly green by such extremely artificial measures?

Looks pretty natural to me...

My own lawn is rarely watered. I allow it to turn brown during times of drought, and it generally recovers. It is properly dormant in the winter and I fertilize once or twice a year, well after the weather warms up. It is mowed once a week almost all year long, though the winter mowings usually just provide me with shredded leaves for the compost pile. An acceptable, but far from perfect lawn: that's my own preference.

For those compelled to have bright green grass, all summer and all winter long, perhaps synthetic turf is the answer. I think it's odd and unnatural and I wonder what the heck it's made of. But it bothers me less than lawns that have been fertilized, watered, and treated to within an inch of their lives. And I've always been very supportive of the gardener's right to do odd things in the garden. So if you install synthetic grass in your front yard, I may chuckle about it. But I'll fight by your side when the Homeowner's Association comes to get you.

You can read about Victor's synthetic grass installation in his blog, The Dirt.

Fall Color: How We Do It Around Here

2010-10-24T07:00:00.000-05:00

Most people know we don't get the spectacular fall foliage down here, but we do have some! This is my young baldcypress tree, graciously turning a beautiful coppery color just in time for Halloween's festivities. Baldcypress (Taxodium distichum) is a conifer, one of the few that isn't evergreen. It's a big, big tree -- really too big for my small suburban lot. One day, someone is going to regret that I planted it, but I couldn't resist.

Pick a bigger space if you plant one!

The baldcypress has fine, feathery leaves and round cones. Unlike many trees, it thrives in heavy, clay soil. For many of us southerners, it is a veritable symbol of the south, and is the state tree of Louisiana. Baldcypress sometimes sends up "knees," extensions of the root systems that poke up above the ground. Even though mine is young, it's already sending up a few knees. Eventually, I'll increase the size of the mulch circle around the tree until all the knees are inside.

Here's the fall color, just beginning...

In addition to the fall color it provides, baldcypress is also especially lovely in the spring. The new leaves are the most wonderful shade of green -- a green you just won't see on an evergreen tree. It always frustrates me when gardeners want to limit themselves to evergreens. I love accompanying my baldcypress on its seasonal journey, from bright, chartreuse spring foliage, through the rich forest greens of summer, and finally to the amber leaves of fall. After all the needles come down, I love to look at that trunk, straight as an arrow. What I'd miss if I only planted evergreens!

Wonderful, fine texture

Baldcypresses are ancient and long-lived trees. The oldest one in North American is rumored to be over 3,500 years old. Some of the trees in its family include the true cypresses, cedars, junipers, dawn redwoods, and giant sequoias.

Dogs Eat Cabbage?

2010-10-23T07:00:00.000-05:00

Greta. Sweet, but not too smart.

Well, one does. Our poor old Greta, 17 years old, is fixated on cabbage. She wanders over to the vegetable plot and munches the newly planted cabbages down to the ground. I think she has some help with the fence from our younger dog Griffin, who's not all that interested in the cabbage, but just likes to tear things up. He's waiting for the tennis balls that usually appear on the tomato plants.


Replaced the cabbage with brussels sprouts and cauliflower.

Apparently, there aren't any long-term problems with dogs eating cabbage, but let me assure you, the short-term implications are dreadful. Enough said.

Foliage Friday: Kalanchoe Tomentosa

2010-10-22T07:00:00.001-05:00

I'm a sucker for Kalanchoe of all kinds. I particularly love the common, old-fashioned K. blossfeldiana, but since this is Friday, I thought I'd share a photo of the Panda plant, more formally known as Kalanchoe tomentosa.

Kalanchoe tomentosa

"Tomentosa" means woolly, and that certainly describes this little succulent. Its leaves are covered with fine, soft hairs, giving it a furry appearance. Panda plant is native to Madagascar and only gets about 18" tall. It's tender, so bring it inside during the winter. They are said to tolerate full sun, but here in zone 9A, I think it does better with a bit of protection from the afternoon summer sun. Like any succulent, it prefers a well-draining soil and cannot tolerate overwatering.

Kalanchoes are related to the Jade plants, and can be propagated the same way: carefully detach a leaf from the main plant and nestle it about an eighth of an inch down in some good-quality potting medium. In about four weeks, you may have a little baby panda!

By the way, I have heard that the proper pronunciation of this plant is "kallan-COE-ee." I have to confess, in my family we stubbornly continue to say "kuh-LAWN-cho." This is what happens when you learn plant names from books! Here's a link to Fine Gardening's Online Pronunciation Guide. What do they think YOU mispronounce?

Western Soapberry

2010-10-21T07:00:00.008-05:00

Western Soapberry: berries turning golden brown

Now here's a native Texas tree, botanically related to the Golden Rain Tree, that provides good fall color and interesting gray bark. As natural areas give way to housing and commercial developments, this pretty tree's continued survival in the wild is threatened. It's a nice smaller-scale tree for urban environments and could be adapted to home and garden use. If you're looking for a front-yard tree, think about Western Soapberry!

Western Soapberry: berries unripe.

Western Soapberry, or Sapindus saponaria var. drummondii, is a deciduous tree that ranges in height from 10 to 40 feet. Soapberry flowers are white and usually appear in May or June, but far more striking are the golden berries of October. These little fruits contain saponin and have been used as a soap substitute for quite some time. Don't eat them, though -- they are toxic if ingested.

Bipinnate leaves of Western Soapberry

The variety name of Western Soapberry honors Thomas Drummond, a botanist, naturalist and explorer. Mr. Drummond collected 750 plant species in Texas between 1833 and 1835, with particular focus on the area between Galveston Island and the Edwards Plateau. If you're a Texan, you know this was a pretty untamed place back then! Mr. Drummond died in Cuba on a plant collecting trip. Many of our best-loved plants carry his name.

Here's more information about Texas History and the Western Soapberry. Enjoy!

Wordless Wednesday

2010-10-20T07:00:00.000-05:00

Bug With Poise

2010-10-19T07:00:00.007-05:00

I wish I could convey the gravity possessed by this bug. He's not naturally shiny like that: he arose from the sweet potato patch as I was watering one evening. If you were there to watch closely, you might have seen him almost shake off the water.

Leaffooted Bug, I believe...

He had a measured and stately gait; ascending to the top of a nearby dwarf yaupon took him at least 5 minutes. I think he knew I was there, trying to catch him in the light with the proper camera lens. He favored me with a slow glance over his shoulder as if to say, "Yes?" But very slowly. And with a very un-bug-like hauteur that is most uncommon in my little vegetable garden.

Photo: Tom Barrow

I stepped back and let him continue his sunset gaze.

Golden Rain Tree, I've Been Waiting For You!

2010-10-18T07:00:00.003-05:00

Our version of fall color

It's true we don't get the spectacular fall color some folks do. Our red maples are red in the spring, when the flowers open. We actually feel guilty when we see red foliage in the fall: it indicates the presence of the Chinese Tallow Tree, an invasive species that now accounts for 23% of the trees in the 8-county Houston area. (Here's the Houston Regional Forest Report.)

Mature Golden Rain Tree

But I'm in love with another introduced tree that is beautiful in the fall: The Golden Rain Tree, or Koelreuteria paniculata. The fast-growing tree is also on some invasive plants lists, and probably I shouldn't love it but I do. All summer it provides beautiful shade but the real show is in the late summer and early fall.

Golden Rain Tree flowers

The flowers are a bright golden-yellow, and they are carried high above the canopy, in full view of every passerby. After the tree is fully in bloom, the seed pods form, a bright coral-pink color that is even more spectacular than the flowers.

Golden Rain Tree Seedpods

Golden Rain Trees grow to a height of 30-40 feet tall and are tolerant of a wide variety of soils. They flower best in full sun. I love seeing them this time of year. They do reseed prolifically, but not more than our native red maple does. I might have to plant one anyway, and do environmental penance somehow later!

All photos in this post: Tom Barrow

Ragweed or Goldenrod?

2010-10-17T07:00:00.000-05:00

I can tell fall is coming after all, because I spend my days tanked up on Zyrtec and Sudafed and my nights dreaming Benadryl dreams. I don't know how the pollen count is where you live, but it's terrible here. Ragweed is our main culprit, sending the pollen counts skyrocketing for almost a month now. But the goldenrod's blooming now too, so we're being warned not to blame goldenrod. It's not the goldenrod's fault, just because it looks like ragweed.

Bad guy or good guy?

I doubted my ability to tell one from the other. And I couldn't let it go, because I kept driving past fields and fields of bright yellow flowers, which were probably goldenrod (right?), but could be ragweed. I looked at pictures on the internet. I looked at my handy weed field guide. Informative, but still, I was unable to identify those weeds blooming their heads off in our area fields. I dreaded walking through it, in case it was ragweed, but I had to find out.

Goldenrod?

I think it's goldenrod, all right, Solidago canadensis. The leaves are lanceolate and the plants are taller than ragweed usually is. Except for that giant ragweed. Did you know there was a giant ragweed? Time for a closer look...

Leaves like goldenrod and brightly colored...

Yep. Looks like goldenrod. These plants don't seem to have the reddish stem of ragweed, and the flower heads lean over and downward. I seem to remember that ragweed holds its flower heads straight up. Probably safe to venture closer. Oh no! Some have flowerheads standing straight up!

Young goldenrod or mature ragweed?

And here's something else. Is this a goldenrod plant that's just beginning to flower? Or could it be ragweed?
Now that I'm home, I can't remember if this plant had the raggy leaves or the nice, neat, narrow leaves.

Goldenrod!

Ah, now I feel better! Ragweed is wind-pollinated, which is why it has to release those billions of pollen grains every year. Goldenrod is pollinated by sweet little honeybees, because their pollen grains are too heavy to be carried by the wind. (Of course, bees also visit ragweed for the pollen, but I'm hoping for the best!)

Foliage Friday: Rhapis Palms

2010-10-15T07:00:00.003-05:00

I have to say, I don't really like palms. To my eye, they look strange and naked in our lush, semi-tropical climate. The proportion looks wrong to me, especially when planted singly. And given that we do occasionally experience a hard freeze (remember last winter?), it's hard to believe there are so many planted in the Houston area.. That said, I do like palms that look more like shrubs. We have some pretty palmettos that are native Texans and are quite cold-hardy.

Closeup of Rhapis excelsa leaves

But my favorite palm is the Lady Palm, or Rhapis excelsa. This relative of the Areca palm looks like bamboo, and is sometimes called Bamboo Palm. I like the lush, tropical look of the foliage and the height: typically Lady Palm grows to a height of only 10-12 feet.

Rhapis palm at Houston Zoo

Although this palm looks tropical, it's actually fairly cold hardy. Older specimens survived our freezes last winter with no problems. The picture above, taken in May of 2010, shows Lady Palms planted in the ground at the Houston Zoo. You can hardly tell there was a freeze.

Rhapis palms -- lush and tropical

There are many different cultivated varieties on the market, and some are quite expensive. They are said to be slow-growing when young, which may explain the high price. But for a tropical look, or a rich, dense visual screen, they are perfect. Plant in light shade or part sun for best results around here. Full sun will cause yellowing and damage to foliage.

Another hardy palm that has a more delicate, finely textured look is Hardy Bamboo Palm, or Chamaeadorea microspadix. It's got a very similar appearance, but the fronds are less fan-like. I like that one too -- perhaps because it doesn't look like a palm!

Bloom Day Is Tomorrow

2010-10-14T07:00:00.000-05:00

And for the first time in a long while, I'm not excited about it. This is a tough time for me to get in the spirit of things, gardenwise. There's a serious disconnect between the garden I have in my mind and the garden I have in my backyard in late September and October.

Datura. Is this a summer flower or what?

My mind says Fall is here! The kids are back in school, Halloween is in a few weeks, the Christmas decorations are already in the stores, the family negotiations over Thanksgiving dinner have begun in earnest.

Tomato flowers waiting for cooler weather before they set fruit.

But outside, it's still late summer. It's been in the 90s this week, even though it has been much drier lately, and cool in the mornings. I do have tomato flowers on the bushes, but the rest of the garden really still looks like late summer. And I so want for it to be autumn.

Coral vine on the back fence, sprawled over the gingers.

Morning Glory

The coral vine looks good, as it has all summer. The butterfly gingers are going crazy and the morning glory, turnera and pavonia are still blooming their collective hearts out. But not for us, not yet, the pansies, violas, mums, snapdragons, etc. I must say, I planted a snapdragon in the vegetable garden because I couldn't stand it anymore, but it's really almost too hot.

Turnera now tall enough to wrestle with bougainvillea.

For now, check in with Carol at May Dreams Gardens for a cheerier Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day. She hosts this wonderful meme, and gardeners all over the world are happily visiting with her, celebrating the change of seasons. Perhaps you'll meet my friend Diana at Elephant's Eye, who's probably rejoicing in the spring. US gardeners north of me are certainly reveling in the fall weather. For us Gulf Coast gardeners, it may be a while yet.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-10-13T07:00:00.000-05:00

San Antonio Japanese Tea Garden

2010-10-12T07:00:00.000-05:00

Japanese Tea Garden

After a delicious lunch (chicken salad!) Friday, we headed over to the Japanese Tea Garden, only a few miles from the Botanical Garden. This strange and beautiful place is the site of an old rock quarry that operated in San Antonio until 1908. By then, the land around the quarry had already been donated to the city as Brackenridge Park. In 1915, the land adjacent to the quarry was donated to the city by Emma Koehler, widow of Pearl Brewery founder Otto Koehler. The unusual locale posed quite a challenge for the city Parks Department, but finally Parks Commissioner Ray Lambert hit upon the idea of a lily pond. He and his city engineer, with very little money, constructed the garden in 1917-1918, using prison labor to transform the quarry into a Japanese-style garden. Plants, building materials and services were donated to the city and when all was said and done, the project was completed for about $7,000. Today, the Japanese Tea Garden is a Texas Civil Engineering Landmark, and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Way above the koi ponds.

The Japanese Tea Garden features lush landscaping, rock paths, bridges, waterfalls and koi ponds. Admission is free, and it's a lovely place to spend a sunny fall afternoon. Here's a few of the things we saw there.

Koi of all colors.

Some of the largest koi I ever saw live there. Most were beautiful, but be forewarned! There's a scary battleship-gray sort prowling around in the shadows. They look like stealthy submarines down there. I also learned that it's hard to photograph fish.

Arundo donax

The plant in the foreground is Arundo donax, or Carrizo Cane. It's growing in isolated spots in the garden. This wildly aggressive grass-like plant is native to warm parts of Asia and Africa. Although it's widely planted throughout the temperate regions of the world, my guess is that people regret it.

Creeping Fig Ivy -- with figs!

Creeping Fig Ivy -- notice the immature vs. mature leaves?

And speaking of regret, I was horrified to see a huge wall covered in creeping fig ivy. This vine had gotten so big that it had actually begun to bear fruit. Look closely at the first picture above. See the yellowish fruits? Those are the "figs." I should really put my house on the market and try to forget that I ever planted it.

Waterfall

The pond is quite shallow, but very clear. There's an extensive filtration system that was renovated in 2007.

The lagoon

I don't know if you can see the koi in this picture. It was taken from high atop the old tea garden house. Those koi are as big as aircraft carriers.

Good guy, not bad guy.

San Antonio Botanical Garden

2010-10-11T07:00:00.000-05:00

Friday I had the good fortune to visit the San Antonio Botanical Garden with the Fort Bend County Master Gardeners. It was a beautiful fall day: cool in the morning, bright and sunny in the afternoon. I arrived just before they opened at 9:00 am.

Chir Pine (Pinus roxburghii)

There were so many beautiful things to see, photograph and write about! Today I'm going to limit myself to plants that were unfamiliar to me. The tree you see above struck me as perhaps the most beautiful pine tree in all of Texas. It's a Chir Pine, native to the Himalaya. Although the tree I saw is small, perhaps only 25 feet tall, the Chir grows to a height of at least 100 feet, with a trunk diameter of 6 feet! It's hard to imagine trees that big growing at high altitudes. It's widely used for timber and resin in its native environs and is fire-adapted: the seeds require the heat of a forest fire to open and germinate.

Flame of Jamaica (Euphorbia punicea)

This is the beautiful Flame of Jamaica tree, another brightly colored member of the Euphorbia family. It's sometimes called Jamaican Poinsettia, and the specimens we saw were in the Conservatory, protected from the cold. In this sheltered area, they had grown into trees, from which baskets of orchids were hung. Stunning!

While we're talking about trees, let me just mention the handsome Mexico Sugar Maple, or Acer skutchii. It's not a common tree around here. I thought it was notable for its beautiful smooth bark and true sugar maple-style foliage. My photograph didn't come out, but I've made a note to look for that lovely tree.

Giant Maidenhair Fern (Adiantum formosum)

I know many of you remember my rant about Maidenhair Ferns. As if to taunt me, they were everywhere on this trip! To add insult to injury, I discovered there's a Giant Maidenhair Fern, which you see pictured above! A giant! I don't even know what to say about that.

Silvery blue cycad

I don't know what sort of cycad this is. It's very large but the leaves are not spiky like the Eastern Cape Blue Cycad. There are silver forms of Siamese cycads and maybe this is one. In the photograph, it appears washed out, but the foliage was very bright and silvery-blue. The fruits were huge and the tree overall was a monster - and quite impressive. It was also growing inside the conservatory, so perhaps it is tender even in zone 8B.

Datura seedpod

Of course, I am familiar with Datura, the lovely but poisonous member of the Nightshade family. I just never noticed how handsome the seedpods were before.

Common Myrtle (Myrtus communis)

Isn't this pretty? These shrubs were all in their full fall glory, covered with blue berries. We have different myrtles in my part of Texas, but I don't recall seeing these. Perhaps we have too much rain. True myrtle is a Mediterranean plant which perhaps prefers a drier climate than Houston's.

Variegated Spiral Ginger (Costus speciosus)

This is a variegated form of Spiral Ginger, or Crepe Ginger. The white variegation was so bright in the shady Sensory Garden. It was growing in the ground, so I'm hoping it's at least root-hardy in zone 8b, although it certainly has a tropical look about it!

Rose 'Lavaglut'

And finally, three wonderful red roses. I had not heard of any of these, but they were blooming beautifully, with no sign of end-of-summer stress. First, above, is Lavaglut, a Floribunda rose. 'Lavaglut' means Lava Glow in German. Try to think of it like that!

Rose 'Trumpeter'

Next, another lovely Floribunda called Trumpeter. This one was bred for disease resistance and heavy blooming. It shows!

Rose 'Dame de Coeur'

To wrap it all up, a hybrid tea named Dame de Coeur, the child of 'Independence' and 'Peace.' The color will remind you of black cherry.

Time for Beets!

2010-10-10T07:00:00.000-05:00

Beets. It's what's for dinner

Time to plant beets, that is. I figure, the time to get people excited about beets isn't harvest time. By then, it's too late. It's planting time! Beets are easy to grow and delicious to eat. You can eat the beet-tops too -- use them like spinach or chard. You should try them at least once. No other food has such a beautiful color. Here's a recipe to get you started.

Shredded Beets with Fettuccine

Wear an apron. Beet juice stains.

Wash and peel about 3 medium-sized beets. Cut into chunks that are small enough to fit into your food processor. Grate or shred the beets roughly.

Poppy Seeds

Toast 3 tablespoons of poppy seeds in a hot, dry skillet until they smell nutty, about 2 minutes.

Yes. 5 tablespoons. Vegetables convey virtue.

Remove poppy seeds and add 5 tablespoons of butter to the skillet. Cook the butter over medium heat until beginning to brown.

The bigger the skillet, the better.

Then stir in the beets, and season with salt and pepper. Cook until the beets are the texture of cooked noodles, about 10 minutes.

Yum.

Meanwhile, cook one lb. of fettuccine noodles until al dente. Drain and return to cooking pot. Toss fettuccine with 1 tablespoon butter and 2/3 cup of grated parmesan cheese. Season with salt and pepper. Stir in the cooked beets and sprinkle with poppy seeds. Add about a teaspoon of balsamic vinegar, more salt and pepper and mix again.

White dishes make food look prettier.

Serve, topped with minced chives. Makes enough for 6 normal people or 3 very hungry people.

For vegans, this is pretty good substituting olive oil for the butter. Leave out the poppy seeds and parmesan and add toasted pine nuts instead.

Antique Cuisinart with the heart of a champion!

Don't you love that food processor? It was my grandfather's -- part of my inheritance when he passed on. Which was almost 20 years ago now!

The Bulb Mart (And The Near Occasion Of Sin)

2010-10-09T07:00:00.000-05:00

I could write down a whole list of excuses. The sun was in my eyes. I was just holding it for somebody. I didn't mean to. But in my heart I knew. My foot was on the slippery slope when I put a wagon in my car to take to The Garden Club of Houston's Bulb and Plant Mart. Today's the last day, if you want to join me in exile.

Amaryllis 'Charisma.' Photo: Van Bloem Gardens

For someone who didn't need anything, and doesn't have any place to put any more plants, I came home with some pretty neat stuff. I know, I know. I wrote all that stuff about how I already have enough amaryllis. But I decided I really had to have 'Charisma.' I have pink ones, red ones, white ones, orange ones, greenish ones. But I don't think I have exactly this sort of reddish one!

'Rhett' photo: Louisiana Iris Farms, LLC

Luckily, they were sold out of that fancy Louisiana iris called 'Cherry Twist.' But, 'Rhett' was there, and only $4 and such a nice color. It was small, though, and looked insignificant in my wagon. So I got 'Andy Dandy' to keep him company.

Sparaxis. Photo: Tulipworld.com

Ixia. Photo: Tulipworld.com

Ranunculus 'Flamenco.' Photo: Easytogrowbulbs.com

And the smaller bulbs are so charming! I got a bag of sparaxis, because I love their clowny faces. I got a bag of ixia because I couldn't remember where I planted my old ones. And there was a wonderful ranunculus called 'Flamenco' that I had to try.

Tulip Clusiana Chrysantha. Photo: Easytogrowbulbs.com

I had no trouble resisting the tulips. I don't like to prechill bulbs and it kills me when they don't return. So I held firm -- until I decided that the little clusianas, closer to species tulips that don't need chilling, would be just the thing. So I got a bag of those, too.

When I came to my senses, I had about $50 worth of bulbs in the wagon. I went outside for a breath of fresh air. And lo and behold, there was the little Peruvian Pavonia that my friend Cindy keeps over in her corner of Katy. I have such good luck with pavonia that I had to try this one. That's when I really came to my senses.

Melochia tomentosa. Photo: Bustani Plant Farm

I noticed that the line was so long -- longer then I've ever seen it -- that I had better get in it. It wasn't so bad to stand in line. You get to see what everyone else has in her wagon. That's when I noticed that every other person seemed to have Melochia. Mine froze this past winter, one of the very few things that didn't come back in my garden. So my line-mate watched the wagon for me while I tracked it down.

Finally, I made it out of there by the skin of my teeth! My penance? Having to plant all these great bulbs in pots, because I really do not have room for any of them!

Foliage Friday: Crotons

2010-10-08T07:00:00.000-05:00

In a way, it's strange to be thinking of crotons as the weather gets cooler. These tropical shrubs are native to southeast Asia and really love warm, humid climates. But the colors are perfect for fall, and croton breeders have introduced so many varieties that there's sure to be something for everyone.

Crotons for fall color

I have better luck, in fact, keeping my crotons alive from season to season than I do with mums. I'm done with mums, I think. They never look good once I get them home from the nursery but they never die, either. Which is the worst of both worlds, if you know what I mean. I planted mums in my east-facing flowerbed four or five years ago and they've survived just fine. They spread, and they bloom (in their own good time -- spring), but they aren't all that pretty. If there were something wrong with them, I could get rid of them. But no. For me, they're just adequate.

I'll take the crotons, please!

Unlike crotons, which are showy container plants in our three hot seasons and houseplants for our short winter. My crotons fuss a bit if I leave them outside once the nights are in the low 40s. They also like to be watered evenly, in that famous "moist yet well-draining" soil. (Where do you get that, I wonder?) Once they drop those lower leaves, they don't replace them. Keep them out of the hot afternoon sun but brighter light means better colors. I love those rich colors and interesting leaves. Look for newer varieties like 'Picasso's Paintbrush' and 'Revolution,' but don't forget the old favorites, like 'Petra' and 'Mamey.'

Picasso's Paintbrush

Revolution

Petra

Mamey

Today: The Bulb Mart

2010-10-07T07:00:00.001-05:00

That's right. Today is the first of a three-day extravaganza, the Garden Club of Houston's 68th Annual Bulb and Plant Mart. I go every year, in spite of myself. I made myself a list. Not a list of bulbs I need to buy, but bulbs I absolutely cannot come home with.

I can't buy any amaryllis. I think I have approximately 150 plants, not counting little daughter bulbs that are ready to be divided. I have plants that are descended from my great-grandmother's garden. In my family, you take amaryllis with you whenever you move. So I don't need any more. None. Not even Papillo, a single lime-green one with mahogany veining. Not Wonderland, a blush-pink with white. Or even Ice Queen, a double-white with a green eye. No, I don't need any more amaryllis.

I can't buy any Louisiana irises. The ones I have were beautiful this year (I attribute it to the cold winter). They are rowdy though: mine insist they would rather escape the flowerbed and grow in the lawn. And every single plant in my back yard seems to have sword-shaped leaves. So, no Louisiana irises. Not Andy Dandy, which has orange-red selfs (selves?) with yellow signals. Not Cherry Twist, a cerise-red with petals that have a lemon reverse. Not even Eastman Winds, a fuchsia-pink with red veining and a yellow reverse. Even though I don't have anything at all like those colors. No, I don't need any more Louisiana irises.

I can't buy any leucojum, or summer snowflake. Even though these are some of the easiest little bulbs to grow here. They are all over the place, because I've planted them and forgotten where. They faithfully come up each year, but sadly, there's no room for them. So no leucojum this year!

I'd love a crinum 'Queen Emma.' I don't have that one and the Queen has lovely burgundy foliage. But I don't need any more crinum and I don't think they are offering that one anyway. So no crinum either!

I don't need a single thing this year! But I must go now. Have to transfer funds to my checking account before the Mart opens at 9:30 am! I'll let you know what I bring home -- hope I have enough money!

Wordless Wednesday

2010-10-06T07:00:00.002-05:00

What's In The Fall Garden?

2010-10-05T07:00:00.016-05:00

We've been enjoying fall weather that's so beautiful, so perfect, it's hard to even concentrate in the garden. But Sunday, I got our little fall vegetable patch in order. You remember those tomatoes I planted in August under their little cabanas? Well, it was extra-hot until the very last few days of September. So the tomatoes are tall and a bit on the leggy side. But I do have flowers on them, so I am holding onto a happy thought: fresh tomatoes for Thanksgiving!

Skinny devils, aren't they?

I planted two kinds of lettuce from seed: a Valentine mix of red and green, and another mix of mostly romaines. I planted yellow bulbing onions and a mix of red and green salad scallions. Greens do well here in the fall, so we picked out two cabbages and two kales, plus a square of "Pot of Gold" chard.

Pot of Gold Chard, photo: Renee's Garden

Even though I never do well with carrots (because I can't/won't thin them properly), we did plant a cute little round carrot called "Round Romeo." I had been saving space for broccoli and cauliflower, but we didn't find them! My daughter picked out snapdragons and calendulas instead. We squeezed them in amongst the vegetables.

Jack & Jill Sweet Peas, photo: Renee's Garden

Finally, we planted "Knee-High Jack and Jill" sweetpeas and "Whirlybird Rainbow Mix" nasturtiums on the low vegetable cages. I like vegetable-gardening in the fall. It just feels so much better to be outside now. All around town, you can hear people breathing a sigh of relief. We are all now sure we've made it through the worst of summer!

Dwarf Barbados Cherry

2010-10-04T07:00:00.002-05:00

This one's planted in a pot, really!

While I was out of town, my Dwarf Barbados Cherry (Malpighia glabra 'Nana') popped into flower. This little trouper deserves extra credit, because it isn't even truly planted. I knew I liked this Texas native shrub, but I never found a place for it in my garden. So it sat in a white plastic pot so long that it rooted through the bottom of the pot and made itself at home. Even the pot is now covered with creeping fig.

Barbados Cherry "tree" by the light post.

Barbados Cherry is evergreen, usually, in zone 9A and often as far north as Austin. It doesn't get very tall -- maybe 5 feet tall -- and is easy to use in bonsai. My daughter and I had a dollhouse-scale garden in the backyard, and Barbados Cherry makes a lovely little "tree." It is easily pruned to any size whatsoever. The dwarf variety is a little more cold-hardy than the regular-size shrub. You sometimes see them available, too. The larger Barbados Cherry is not native to the US, and gets between 10 and 12 feet tall.

Delicate pink flowers.

Barbados Cherry seems to grow well in sun or partial shade and isn't picky about soil conditions (obviously!). It is very tolerant of drought, once established, and blooms periodically throughout the warmer months. The blooms mature into tiny, tart "cherries," which are the source for a form of Vitamin C called acerola. Mockingbirds love them too!

Cherries soon!

Garden & Gun?

2010-10-03T07:00:00.004-05:00

This magazine surprised me so much I had to steal it from the dentist's office so I could get a better look at it and think about what this might mean. It's a slick magazine, printed on high-quality paper with some high-quality insides too. But Garden & Gun? The "soul of the south?"

From the August/September issue: Teddy Roosevelt's Shotgun. Photo: James D. Julia Auctioneers

I'm trying to figure out just who the target audience is here. The cover of the October/November issue features a 12-gauge Watson Brothers shotgun that is truly beautiful simply as an object. Inside is an interesting article about rescuing turtles after the BP oil disaster. There's a feature on artist Jack Spencer, who's not exactly someone your old southern granny would hang in her parlor. There's a humorous bit from Roy Blount, Jr. and a pretty swanky look at what all the best hunters are wearing this fall.

The March/April 2008 Cover

As for gardening, there's a short feature on a little "weekend place," situated on an old 100-acre horse farm. There was a picture of a flower bed, at least. And there was an ad for handmade ceramics, decorated with botanical motifs. I quite liked the ceramics.

Ceramic vases by Laura Zindel Design

It's an intriguing magazine, in an odd way. It's like one of those pizzas with the unusual gourmet ingredients that you never thought you'd eat together. I'm not sure I like pizza that way, and I'm not sure I like the magazine, but it was different enough to make me take notice, which is something. And they said publishing was dying!