August 22, 2023 by Born To Organize

Worrying and Gardening

Worrying about things out of my control never stops me from worrying about things that are out of my control. Ha! The sense of relief, when it passes, is palpable, and I understand that worry comes from fear. Still, it’s wasted energy and time better spent doing other things.

Southern California, home to family and friends, spent the weekend on hurricane watch, followed by threats of flash flooding and mudslides. My 22-year-old son lives in Southern California; however, he left for the weekend to attend a concert with friends in Las Vegas, where, you guessed it, they also had flash flooding. Now back in SoCal, all is well. The storms passed without any fatalities, and we were all relieved. It’s uncommon for hurricanes to land on our west coast shores. Hurricane Hilary is our state’s first tropical storm in over eighty years.

We welcomed the storm remnants here in San Jose on Monday. It lowered temperatures and produced an air-cleansing rain. I added support to the sunflowers late in the day to ease the battering of the wind. It won’t be long until they all go to seed, but I’m glad they remain standing for now.

In other garden news, our second attempt at growing tomato plants has been successful. We planted them in the front curb garden. I pulled the sad-looking remains of the tomato plants in the back garden—that last promising tomato providing a meal for a nocturnal visitor.

I watched a large opossum amble across the garden at dawn this morning and regretted leaving my camera phone indoors. We often see them along the fence line after dark, but it’s been years since one showed up in the garden.

Saturday, I spotted a tiny, green praying mantis on a bright pink Cosmo as I waited for Mike to back out the car.

I snapped a few shots, and a bee came to gather pollen. Neither of them seemed to mind the other. Two hours later, I rechecked the flowers, and the mantis remained there. The next day an orange butterfly joined the gathering, along with more bees. It’s a popular plant.

The bottom left pics show a brown mantis right side up, then hanging upside down. I wish I could do that.

I plan to add a page to my blog documenting the wildlife that visits the garden. Recording things appeals to my organizing side, and it’s a way to stay connected to the garden on these hot, dry days. The first day of autumn is one month away.

I’m looking forward to the seasonal change.

April 3, 2021 by Born To Organize

Thirty Days in the Garden: Wisteria

I’ve admired Wisteria vines forever, but I never dreamed I could actually grow one. They need full sun and a sturdy trellis for support, and once established they can be tree-like in stature.i

A few years ago we had to remove one of our magnolia trees due to an unrelenting case of scale. I manually scraped off the scale after pruning away the inner branches. It was a tedious and unpleasant job, but I really wanted to save the tree. The scale returned the following year. According to the arborist the scale probably came with the tree. Without a toxic application that would harm all insects, the tree wouldn’t survive.

As sorry as I was to see the tree go, it made room for this love Wisteria.

We moved an under-utilized arched trellis from the back garden to support the vine. It took a couple of years to train the Wisteria but it’s now a lovely shape.

It surprised me to learn from Wikipedia that Wisteria is a member of the legume family. Further, the article described Wisteria as a “woody climbing bine.” I puzzled over that for a while, having never heard the term bine before. I eventually realized it was a typo. No judgement as I make plenty of typos myself, but I had a good laugh nonetheless.

Pictured below, left to right: rhododendrons, gardenias, freesias, a white camellia, native grasses, branches from a healthy magnolia, and my trusty garden cart near the fence.

I’m pleased that the flowering vine is doing well.

This walkway is a gently sloping ramp. The sign says Sharon’s Way. My sister has MS and could no longer visit our home, so we had a landscape architect design a ramp from the curb to the house. It’s subtle and beautiful.

January 30, 2019 by Born To Organize

A Garden in Rest

We’re quite spoiled living in California this time of year. Temperatures rarely drop below freezing, and we’re frequently treated to several days of unseasonably warm conditions.

While much of the country is dealing with weather known as the polar vortex with insanely cold and hazardous conditions, I’m wearing a t-shirt as I go about my day. I wish I could send all my mid-west and eastern seaboard friends a bit of warmth and sunshine. Come June, I’ll be looking on enviously at your summer rains.

Nigella and sweet peas populate the curb garden

I’ve been popping into the garden at the end of the day, pulling young weeds before they get a foothold. It’s a joy to observe the daily treasures nature has to offer.

When fall arrives in late October, my garden cleanup includes pruning, grooming and dead-heading perennial plants and shrubs. Last fall, I consciously let things go. This wasn’t born of laziness. In fact, it took some resolve to let things be. My propensity for organization and a tidy garden are nothing new, however my awareness of the benefits of a garden to all the visitors comes with a sense of responsibility.

Letting perennials go to seed means there are seeds available for birds passing through. Allowing a bit of leaf drop to cover the garden floor provides cover for some beneficial insects, while at the same time providing a natural mulch. Mulch keeps the soil warm and moist, while reducing weed growth and protecting roots from uneven temperatures. Leaves breakdown quickly, feeding the worms and improving the overall health of the soil.

Excess leaves, swept from the sidewalk and deck, made it into our compost bin. After working my way through three different compost systems over the past decade, I finally found one that I like.

Tessa likes to sit on the composter at dusk

New habits take time. I’m itching to get out there so I can prune some of the dead growth. I’ve had a little chat with my inner gardener, and together we’ve decided this is best. After all, the first day of Spring in the northern hemisphere is only 49 days away.

I can hardly wait.

Front garden view
Emerging bulbs
Nigella, sweet pea poppies mix together at the curb
Nigella also known as love in a mist
Freesia
Letting the curb garden rest
Narcissus emerge
Nigella
Freesia bud
A trio of lemons
Camellia buds

September 10, 2015 by Born To Organize

A Walk Through the Garden: The Drought Addition

It’s hard gardening in a drought.

It’s equally hard writing a blog about it without sounding all gloom and doom. (I’m saving my gloom and doom posts for Halloween).

Since we’ve all had it up to here with the drought, the heat, the save-the-air alerts and the raging fires here in California, writing about it seems as drab as my former lawn.

Bougainvillea love the dry heat. Lush lawns are a thing of the past.

Today, I’m shaking things up a bit with a garden video show and tell.

I created the video tour using my mobile phone with my family’s help. Mike followed me around the garden and took video, and my son, Mac edited the clips for the final production.

Instead of tidying up before the guests arrive, I present to you my unadulterated, much-loved, brown around the edges garden.

Without further ado, Gardening Nirvana: The Drought Addition

https://youtu.be/P3MbpxZW1BI

June 29, 2015 by Born To Organize

Ho, hum, hot!

I’m a seventies gal. That is to say that I prefer temperatures hovering around 72 degrees with a slight breeze. I have British Aisle genes and a California address. Now that we’re approaching the hottest months of the year I must hide from the heat and sun. Tomorrow’s forecast: 101°F (38°C).

Gardening used to happen at the end of the day when I could safely venture back outdoors. As we settle uncomfortably into year four of the California drought, not much gardening is happening at all.

Planting pots with annuals on the deck and porch has long been a favorite ritual. This year I emptied all but a few pots, and planted what remained with succulents. They don’t need much watering, perhaps just once a month, but they don’t need much care either. Part of the joy of gardening is watching new growth, pinching back leaves, dead-heading flowers and making tiny bouquets. It’s fun to see an annual double in size over the course of the summer. This year I’m forgoing that tradition.

What remains of the lawn resembles a bed of straw. I’m happy to see the lawn go, but had hoped that by now we would have our native plants in place. I met with a designer in April who promised a two-week turnaround, but as we approach July we remain in limbo. I’ve completed the landscape rebate program application but I can’t submit it until I have both the list of plants and the specific irrigation components for the rebate.

Drying grass, dead sweet peas

The Statice likes the dry conditions and attracts butterflies. The sweet peas are a different story.

In the back garden, I sheet mulched half of the lawn thinking I would replant this spring. That too is in limbo, awaiting plans. For now that area is a patch of brown, albeit fertile soil.

Half lawn, half dry patch, and an all-volunteer tomato crop

I didn’t plan a vegetable garden this year either, other than the raspberry vines that come back time and again without fuss. With no effort on my part, three tomato varieties self seeded: one grew under the Acer, several in the gravel surrounding the rotating compost bin and a few in the actual planting boxes. Mike added a drip line, so we could eek out some drops at the roots.

Self-seeded tomatoes

A few weeks ago more tomatoes popped up in the patch of former lawn. They seem to be surviving without any water, something that doesn’t seem possible. I scratched the surface of the soil and it remains dry at least an inch down. The plants must be getting by on morning dew and perhaps some ground water. Amazing.

In the same sea of dirt stands a single pumpkin, ringed by several tomatoes. The plant’s leaves droop in exhaustion at the end of each day, and I whisper my understanding. I head to the swing and enjoy the green that remains while longing for a refreshing downpour.