Gardening

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The Curse of the Poinsettia

Poinsettia (euphorbia pulcherrima)

I can’t seem to kill houseplants.  Most of the time, it’s a good thing.  I treat each plant with TLC, ensuring the proper pot size, location, water needs and the occasional fertilizer.  Once a plant finds the perfect corner of my abode, it thrives for years and years.

Back in 1988 I purchased two asparagus ferns from the local Woolworth Garden Center.  They were a bargain at seventy-nine cents each.  I planted them together in one pot and kept them next to my bed in my tiny apartment.  Plants were always my favorite way to decorate.  Unlike nick-knacks, plants change and grow.  And grow they did.  Eventually I split them up, and had two plants for my apartment.  Two years later I moved in with my sister and the plants came too.  Six weeks after the move, the Bay Area experienced a 7.1 earthquake.  The jolt of the quake flipped a mirror off of my bathroom wall, cleared the entire counter of its contents, including potted plants, and landed unbroken on the floor.  We had little damage, but spent a few days cleaning up the various messes it created, scooping up potting soil, broken containers and the like.  The ferns survived.  They moved back to Campbell for five years, and then joined me in Fremont as a newlywed.  By then the plants were quite large and had developed spiky thorns.  We eventually settled in San Jose where we started a family and those ferns, long past the house-plant stage, now live a contented life along the back fence.

Two years ago a Poinsettia came to live with us, a gift from someone who mostly took from our lives.  The plant was a beautiful specimen, grown as a standard instead of a shrub.  It spent some time on the kitchen counter, later moving to the living room as the seasons changed and it needed more indirect light.  Ironically, as the plant thrived, the awkward relationship stumbled, fell, limped along and finally, ended.  The end of the relationship was dramatic and ugly, but necessary for the mental health of me and my family.

Without tricking a Poinsettia into thinking it’s been through a cool, dark winter, they gradually lose their scarlet red bracts.  The tiny flowers also come and go, but through all of this, our plant remained healthy.  I tossed out the glittery holiday-themed pot, moved the plant back to the kitchen, and there it continues to thrive.  My family comments on the plant from time to time, aware of its giver and the frenzied drama that swirled around us. It’s a marvel the plant has survived.

Unlike the ferns that developed thorns to survive, the poinsettia lost its brilliant color as it dropped each scarlet red bract.  It has become a healthy, green and otherwise unspectacular plant, a contrary reminder of a turbulent time.

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Patio Progress: Concentric Circles

Progress Photos

Our beautiful patio is done.  We are already enjoying the improvements throughout the yard.  The patio moved closer to the house.  It feels more intimate, something we’ve missed with it in the center of the garden.  Its sheltered now from the late afternoon summer sun so we can enjoy dinners outdoors once again.  Work on the pathway in front of the vegetable garden resumes this week, followed by repairs to the irrigation system.  A bit of grass will replace the former patio.  We’ll fill in with plants in the spring.

We were able to use about one-third of the flagstone in a concentric circle surrounding the poured concrete.  The patio integrates with the walkway, using Connecticut Bluestone to match the existing treads on the stairs.  As an added and unexpected bonus, the pretty tile trim under the stair treads now stand out against the “Sombrero Buff” concrete.  Even the cats love it!  They no longer have to walk gingerly on the stones like we did, trying to avoid the cracks.  All three of the cats have been out there exploring the new environment.

Cats on the Patio

Additional stones will be re-purposed for the vegetable garden walkway.  We hope to free-cycle the rest.  More pictures to follow later this week.

Designer: Bergez & Associates, J.P. Bergez featured in Sunset Magazine

Installation: Natural Bridges Landscaping, David Ross

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Don’t Hate Me ‘Cause It’s Concrete

A Hard Day's Work

We never intended a major do-over of the backyard.  It was nothing to write home about, but it was our little postage stamp of a garden on our suburban, percentage-of-an-acre lot.  I spent hours pulling out ivy, trimming back overgrown shrubs, and hiring professionals to prune tall trees.   When my son was two he helped me plant annuals along the fence.  I would coach “dig the hole, put in the plant, add some soil” and he would repeat back, “…put in the oil.”  Mike gave me a gift certificate to a local nursery one year, and together we picked out annuals and perennials.  I poured over my beloved Sunset Garden books.   Life in the garden was good.

Then we remodeled.  If you’ve embarked on similar projects, you understand the phenomenon of one thing leads to another.  We extended the house by a mere 185 square feet, and with that the garden was lost:  Our beloved almond tree, diseased, had to come down.  Grass was trampled, paint brushes cleaned, nails dropped.  The electrical panel had to be enlarged, which meant damage to the siding.  Siding had to be replaced which meant removing some shrubs.  At the end of the day, what was left of our garden was a sad mess.

We hired a landscape architect who designed a beautiful garden, and we selected stone slabs to replace the existing poured concrete.  It was a greener option, allowing water from the irrigation below to bubble up and water the ground cover.  We spent the extra dollars to purchase “select” stones; code for bigger pieces will cost you.  To this day I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but an unsupervised stone-layer proceeded to break those large stone pieces into smaller chunks.   The designer was angry when she saw the work and demanded of us “is this going to work?”   After nearly a year of remodeling we were suffering from a serious case of decision fatigue. So…we cried uncle.  Yes.  Yes, it’s fine.  It’s fine.  Really.  And we thought it was.

The patio was a flop.  The irrigation below only worked for half the stones.  The roots from the neighboring pine tree lifted and broke some of the stones; others were placed too far apart, creating ankle-twisting hazards as we maneuvered our way around.  The table was constantly tipping to one side and the chairs had to be carefully arranged and re-arranged every time you sat down.   I replanted the ground cover on three different occasions, pulling weeds as I went.  The weeds would take hold again, as if to point out who was boss.

So, eight years later, we’ve filled up our proverbial piggy bank and hired the talented J.P. Bergez.   We asked J.P.to incorporate the stones into the design so that we could re-purpose them in a more practical way.  We lived with the greener alternative for seven years, but practicality was about to win out.  Don’t hate me ‘cause it’s concrete.

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Broccoli is In!

I’m a fair-weather gardener. I like to plant spring through summer, enjoying what survives the onslaught of snails, squirrels, rats and tobacco worms.  Seasonal favorites include pumpkins and tomatoes, along with a row of towering sunflowers.

We added a few raised beds two years ago, and since then I can’t stand to see all that bare soil.  Even with my tiny plot, I’m aware of the benefits of cover crops: less erosion, for starters, and if properly planted, cover crops like fava beans will enrich the soil with nitrogen for next season’s plantings.  Last year’s fava beans were tilled back into the soil, and we followed with a bumper pumpkin crop.

This year’s cover crop is Broccoli.  I wasn’t raised eating this delicious green.  I was in my twenties before tasting it on a flight to Vancouver.  It’s now one of my favorites.  I’ll eat it raw but love it steamed or in soups.

This week, my lush, green plants started to yield tiny florets.  I don’t think I’ll ever tire of watching things grow.

The Power of Broccoli:  nutrition, selection, storage and history

Recipe: Sesame Steamed Broccoli

Recipe: Creamy Vegan Broccoli Soup*

*I made this recipe a few weeks ago with organic broccoli from a local market.  It was delicious!

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My Heart in the Garden

“The way is not in the sky. The way is in the heart.” -Buddha

Heart among the branches

“If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on.” – Steve Jobs

Camouflage Heart

“There are many things in life that will catch your eye, but only a few will catch your heart…pursue those.” – Michael Nolan

A Crack in the Walkway

“Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts; don’t put up with those that are reckless with yours.” – Mary Schmich

Don't be Reckless

“Have a strong mind and a soft heart.” – Anthony J. D’Angelo

Heart Nestled in the Crook of a Fern

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Baby, It’s Cold Outside…

…so cold, in fact, that it’s snowing on my blog!  Come take a peak.

"Snowing" in California

From the Elf Soundtrack: Listen to that fireplace roar

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Thanksgiving Centerpiece: Hollowed Pumpkin Bouquet

I’ve always wanted to try this…and finally did this year.

We grew this beautiful white “Cotton Candy” pumpkin last summer.  It created the perfect color compliment to the orange flowers and its moderate size didn’t over-power the table.

Pumpkin Centerpiece

Step 1: Remove the top of the pumpkin, the seeds and the pulp.

Step 2: Coat the cut edge of the pumpkin with petroleum jelly to slow the drying process.

Step 3: Insert a plastic jar, cup or other non-porous container into the opening.

Step 4: Cut flowers and dried grasses, reducing the stems to about 6 inches.  Arrange to taste.

Thanksgiving Table

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Flowering Wonders

The packet of wildflower seeds we planted late spring, continue to produce a few blooms.  We scattered some of the seeds in the side yard with the sunflowers and the dwarf lemon and they bloomed for months.  We still have cosmos flowering in the large pot outside our sliding-glass bedroom door.

Cosmos

To keep that color going throughout our moderate winter, I plant cyclamen each year.  They were one of my mom’s favorites, and always remind me of her.  A friend gave me a red cyclamen for Valentine’s Day one year, and it bloomed for a month on my coffee table.  When the plant seemed to fail, I moved it outside, but it continued to “decline.”  Little did I know then that this plant is a tuber.  It was simply going into its dormant stage.  We have some planted outside near our laundry room and they make me smile each year when they re-emerge.

Cyclamen

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Mid-Autumn Garden

Broccoli in the Ground

My plan was to start broccoli from seed this year, but I temporarily misplaced the seeds when they fell behind the recycling bin. I planted starter-plants instead to give the garden a head start, next to the still-flowering tomato plants. In Canada the tomatoes would have been toast by now, but they continue to produce through the first “frost” here in sunny San Jose.

Last year we planted fava beans, then tilled them into the vegetable bed before they produced any beans. I learned that the small white nitrogen nodules that appear around the roots enrich the soil. The plants themselves act as a cover crop, reducing erosion from rain and wind. This year, the broccoli will act as a covering winter crop, but will hopefully produce some greens for the dinner table as well. Three out of four of my family members will actually eat broccoli, not bad in our household of picky eaters.

Winter gardens are easier to tend in a variety of ways: fewer weeds, fewer garden pests and if the weather cooperates, scattered showers throughout the growing season.

We’ll see how it grows!

Flowering Tomatoes

Tomato Plants Gone Wild

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California Autumn

I’m originally from Canada, so it took me awhile to appreciate the subtleties of a California autumn. Our boys wore shorts on Halloween night and I walked home from a party earlier that week in a sleeveless costume. In Ontario our Mom insisted on coats, even though we grumbled at the injustice of our “spoiled” ensembles.

We planted a carefully placed Chinese Pistache (Pistacia chinensis) as a reminder of this lovely season. It gradually produces ocher, amber and other golden shades, before the wind sweeps the leaves to the grass below. Our lone tree sits on our suburban lot, but it reminds me of my early roots. In my imagination our tree resides in a New England forest, surrounded by others dropping leaves on the earthen floor. Our Pistache is easily viewed from my kitchen sink and my home office, a wistful reminder of another time.

I do love spring, with the warming sun and wonderful rebirth, but in my heart of hearts, its autumn that firmly takes hold.

Chinese Pistache (Pistacia chinensis)