Pied Beauty

Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)

Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:

Praise him.

Friday, August 13, 2010

Foliage Friday: Australian Rosemary

A post from the middle of the annual summer heat wave.

It's hot and humid.  The oppressive heat knocks you back on your heels if you set foot outside your air-conditioned prison.  Gardeners in Houston love to plant chilly silver-blue foliage -- we long for even a slight cooling effect.  Alas!  The hard, cruel fact is that most silver-leafed plants do not thrive here in the humidity.

Fruticosa means shrubby, not fruity!

I'm happy to report that Australian Rosemary or Westringia fruticosa is an exception.  This mild-mannered shrub isn't related to rosemary at all, but shares the pointy-leaved look.  Australian Rosemary has softer leaves and a more open form than the herbal rosemary does.  I cut mine back fairly severely this spring after the frost, and it has returned in perfect form.  I keep it trimmed somewhat to encourage a full look.  Australian Rosemary will perform in the sun, mostly sun or morning sun.  If there's enough light, it will also produce small lavender flowers.  I have mine on the east side of the house, so it doesn't bloom much for me, but it's a nice cool little row of shrubs against that hot, red brick.

This shrub is native to Australia and can reach heights of 4-6 feet, although I think it looks nice when it's kept a little shorter.  Australian Rosemary is a member of the mint family, and though I've never tried it, I understand it's easy to propagate from cuttings.  For me, it's been absolutely immune from insects and disease.  Try it -- it may be good for a degree or two off the heat index!

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Sweet Autumn Clematis

The only one I can grow!  And boy, does it grow...

Photo: Tom Barrow

This one was planted late last year, probably in September.  It survived the winter just fine, and has now grown to smother a 4-foot section of a 6-foot fence.  If the fence were wider, I think the clematis would be too.
Photo: Tom Barrow

Sweet Autumn Clematis isn't one of the beautiful, large-flowered types, but it makes up in volume what it lacks in flower size.  It is covered with fragrant white flowers in August and September.  A mostly evergreen vine, Sweet Autumn Clematis readily reseeds and can by propagated from seed or cuttings.  For a strong flush of growth in the summer, cut back to about a foot tall in the early spring. Sweet Autumn Clematis goes by a number of botanical names: Clematis terniflora, C. paniculata and C. maximowicziana.  One plant is enough, really!

Everyone seems to love Sweet Autumn Clematis:

Photo: Tom Barrow
Photo: Tom Barrow
Photo: Tom Barrow

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

I Love Seagulls

One of the best things about living so close to the coast?  Birds of the water, like these seagulls.

Galveston is home to laughing gulls, ring-billed gulls and herring gulls.

I love seagulls.  I know some people find them irritating, but I've always thought they interesting: so sleek, handsome, chatty.  On a recent trip to Galveston, it seemed like there were fewer gulls than I had remembered.  But I loved seeing them wheel and dive, looking for food.  The warm water was full of fingerling mullet and the seagulls competed with pelicans for lunch.

Seagulls have a life expectancy of more than 20 years!

My favorite characters in the movie Nemo were the seagulls -- it seemed like the film's creators got the personality of the seagulls just right.

"Keep working on love."

And I have to confide:  there's a small, secret part of me that still remembers Richard Bach's novella Jonathan Livingston Seagull, with a sentimental fondness.  Smaller, more secret part?  I used to own the Neil Diamond soundtrack album.  Now there's someone who loves seagulls!

Monday, August 9, 2010

Tomato Cabana!

'Tis August and a gardener's thoughts turn, however reluctantly, to planting tomatoes.  Yes, it's hot.  Yes, it's humid.  Yes, the insects have a huge head start.  But now's the time to get tomato seedlings established here.  By the time they are mature enough to bear fruit, the nights (at least) should be cooler.  One hopes.

Rowdy plants in foreground: one (1) sweet potato slip!

Here's what I do to help protect little seedlings from the harsh August sun.  These are little scraps of fabric, bandanna-sized, clipped onto the tomato cages with clothespins.  As the tomatoes grow taller, I'll move the canopy up a rung higher on the cage.  The idea is to provide a little shade at least from the overhead sun until the weather moderates enough.  Plus, we think it's cute!  As a quilter, I have a huge stash of fabric in my closet.  I can always find something for a baby tomato.


What I'm growing this fall:

Sunchaser: a tomato specifically designed (by who, I wonder?) for the southeast US.  Should produce an 8-ounce fruit, maturing quickly at approximately 72 days. F1 hybrid.

Sweet Million - a cherry-style tomato, indeterminate, maturing in 65-75 days.  We've grown this one off and one with great success.  It's always a kick to have bowls of cherry tomatoes even at Thanksgiving. F1 hybrid.

Champion - another indeterminate tomato which should produce an 8-ounce fruit.  This one is also appropriate for hot climates.  F1 hybrid.

Carmello - a French tomato, also indeterminate, which should mature rather quickly (less than 75 days).  Open-pollinated. 

Tomato resolutions:  I will keep my tomatoes staked.  I will prune when necessary to keep tomatoes off the roof.  I will keep a watchful eye for insects -- they're keeping a watchful eye on me!

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Wildflowers: Ruellia humilis


Right now, untended fields are full of blooming Ruellia humilis, or Wild Petunia.  This is the untamed cousin of the 'Katie' ruellia you see in the nursery.  It blooms from May through about October, and is variable in color:  blooms can range from almost white to very dark indigo.  Ruellia is perennial, and tough as nails -- you already know this if you've tried to remove it from a flowerbed once it's established.  Ruellia humilis grows to about 2 feet tall and will do well in sun, part sun, and bright shade.  It isn't really picky about soil conditions, either.  Ruellia is a forage plant for browsing animals and attracts butterflies and moths.  Ruellia can be very assertive, though:  plant it in a place where you know you'll always want it!

Friday, August 6, 2010

Foliage Friday: Gumpo Azalea

I know.  Usually azalea is a flower plant.  But I love this little Gumpo azalea for its foliage and its form.  It's neat and mounded, with tiny leaves, like a rounded, decorated boxwood.  Though it's slow-growing, it's tidy and dense.  This one is not quite as hardy as other varieties; perhaps only suitable for zone 7b and south.

Pink Gumpo Azalea, in August.

The Gumpo azaleas are part of the Satsuki group, first codified by the Japanese in 1692.  'Satsuki' means 'fifth month' and these azaleas bloom in the fifth month of the old lunar calendar, our equivalent of June.  They are available with white, pink and red flowers.  There's even a "Fancy" variety that is pink with a white margin.  Because they bloom later than the Southern Indicas, the flowers are somewhat hidden by the spring flush of foliage.  The color display isn't nearly as dramatic as the March extravaganza of the spring-blooming varieties.  Gumpo azaleas have a shy appearance, a little more standoffish. 

'Kinpo,' a Satsuki azalea.  Photo: Jim Trumbly

And here's one more reason I love Gumpo azaleas.  They aren't Encore™ azaleas.  I don't have anything against Encore™ azaleas.  But I miss the old varieties.  Houston is azalea country -- and those so-called "repeat bloomers" are crowding out my old favorites, like the Kurumes, the Pericats, the Glenn Dales, and the enormous number of Southern Indica hybrids.  Here's two more, just so we don't forget...

'Hinodegiri,' a Kurume azalea.  Photo: Joe Coleman

'Mary Margaret,' a Glenn Dale azalea.  Photo: Dan Krabill