After a parched January, the skies opened up and delivered much-needed rain. I’m grateful for every drop. It’s fun to imagine droplets trickling down to the garden’s roots, perhaps encountering an earthworm as they travel. After years of gardening and drought in this semi-arid state, I take nothing for granted.
Various birds, squirrels, and perhaps this Virginia Oppossum drink from our fountain and the smaller birdbath on our deck. All thirsty guests are welcome.
We had one week in January with unseasonable temps in the seventies (F) and no rain; Mike ensured these water sources were clean and full.
Over time, I’ve replaced potted plants along the deck with succulents. Succulents store moisture in their leaves, allowing the plant to go one to three months without water. Conversely, most summer annuals need near-daily watering, so I’ve learned to (mostly) resist when I head to the garden center.
The newest addition to our deck is called an Othonna Capensis. It has thin purple stems and tiny yellow flowers. I transplanted it last summer into a waiting pot, but I wasn’t sure it would make it. The roots were loose and thin. To the contrary, it’s filled the pot nicely and its sending trailing purple offshoots down the sides. I add a few potted cyclamen for color in the fall, and when the corms go dormant, I replant them in different parts of the garden for color the following year.
Working in my garden has been physically challenging these past few years as the pain in my hips worsened. After five years of maneuvering through the US medical system, I finally had a complete hip replacement this past Wednesday. From a medical perspective, the surgery was unremarkable, and I was able to come home the same day. I need to replace the left hip in the future, but I want to fully recover before contemplating another surgery.
If you garden in the Northern Hemisphere, you’ll know February is a decent time to be off your feet. The first six weeks of recovery will carry me through the end of winter, leading to the effervescent gifts of spring.
Assembling a jigsaw puzzle is the ultimate escape. It’s engaging but not taxing, and with one thousand pieces, it requires time and patience.
Conversely, I had neither time nor patience throughout December, yet I started assembling a puzzle anyway, and once done, I started another one.
Studies suggest that puzzles increase the production of dopamine, a chemical that regulates mood, memory, and concentration. Once I cracked open the puzzle box, the sorting began, and the list of things I needed to do fell by the wayside. A spell had been cast, one puzzle piece at a time.
Most of the time, I’m an organized and capable person, so I’m uncomfortable feeling this scattered. I planned to make Christmas cards this year and had the supplies. Making cards and corresponding with friends is a joy. I eventually sat down at my crafting table and created a dozen cards, but by day’s end, fatigue won out, and most of my cards remained unsent.
I made one card, using scraps, to join Kate’s ScrapHappy blog hop mid-December, but I lacked the time to create a post.
Earlier in the year, I set aside vintage Christmas postage to make a card from a friend’s stash. You guessed it: finished but unsent.
And Permits? How did that get into the title?
It’s a long and tedious story, so here’s my attempt at brevity. The space between the sidewalk and the street, known locally as the sidewalk strip, is the homeowner’s responsibility, but the City governs usage. When we bought our home nearly thirty years ago, we inherited a strip of lawn. We applied for a permit and planted a “street tree.” During the worst of the drought years, we removed the lawn. Mike built a planter box in its place, and I’ve happily planted seasonal flowers, tomatoes, and whatever else wanted to self-seed there for many years.
In the last decade, the tree declined. We applied for a permit to replace the tree. The City denied our request, saying the tree wasn’t sick enough. City workers came through this spring and pruned every tree on the block to prepare for road work, leaving a sickly tree in its wake. They approved our second request to remove and replace the tree.
Two weeks later, we received a Repair Notice and Permit saying we had to remove the planting box, calling it a tripping hazard. I’ll share more details in a future post, but suffice it to say I’m sad, disappointed, and, for a time, overwhelmed by the amount of work it would take to dismantle my beloved curb garden, not to mention the expense.
The City gave us thirty days to remove the tree, the planting box, and all the soil and gravel, plants, bulbs, and irrigation that went with it. When I called, they offered an extension but refused to budge on the planter.
I can always send those Christmas cards next year.
October left town on Friday, foisting the reality of November and the most significant election of my lifetime, November 5. I’ve kept busy all month with organizing clients and social engagements, spending time with friends and family, and trying to avoid the news.
Unseasonably hot temperatures kept me out of the garden the first week of October. It’s hard to fathom triple-digit days at a time when the angle of the sun says fall, not July.
I celebrated my birthday on October 2, and we had fun handing out candy on Halloween. Mike carved three beautiful pumpkins for the front deck. Soon, they’ll join the compost bin. The seeds are outside for the squirrels to enjoy or to plant a pumpkin for next year.
This year, I polished off the last of my Halloween paper and ephemera, making cards for friends, seasonal bookmarks, and craft-making kits next to the children’s Little Free Library. I offered seeds from my garden as well.
My friend Marcia gave me a treasure trove of vintage postage, so I had fun making a few pumpkins.
There are plenty of tasks in an autumn garden, and we’re finally enjoying the cool weather needed to get things done. I’ve been pruning where appropriate and removing spent annuals. The anemones grew tall this year, with the extra weight of blooms, bending them in a gentle arch to show off a snowy white skirt. I removed the flower stalks from the lower garden but left a pair of tall plants to go to seed. The hummingbirds will be along in a few months to harvest the seed fluff for their nests.
A second round of nasturtiums arrived on the scene, flaunting lovely saucer-sized leaves and a limited number of orange and red flowers. Nasturtiums self-seed in the spring and summer, dying off by the middle of July. The fall variety has proliferated in a section planted with freesia. They’re lovely.
This morning, I planted forty spring bulbs, a mixture of double yellow narcissus and grape hyacinth. I replaced the leggy coleus growing in a pot along our deck with cold-weather cyclamen. We enjoyed a light rain overnight, refreshing the garden and the stale air.
In the wee hours of Sunday, the US ends Daylight Saving Time (DST) or Falls Back. Here’s hoping this isn’t a metaphor for what could happen if this country doesn’t vote for Democracy. I’m cautiously optimistic for a better way forward.
“There’s no such thing as a vote that doesn’t matter.” – Barack Obama
As the autumnal equinox approaches, I’m pining for fall colors and cooler days. October is my favorite time of year, and it’s fast approaching. Sometimes, I miss the fun we had growing pumpkins when my boys were young, but with my sons launched, not to mention back-to-back years of squash bug infestations, I’m happy to leave it to the professional growers.
Also, I’m out of room. When you love gardening, a patch of exposed earth is a planting opportunity. I’ve filled pots, borders, raised beds, and the surrounding soil with living things. Potted succulents line the deck, the back steps, and the walkway leading to our back gate. I once joked that it would be fun to buy the house behind us, remove the fence, and extend the garden. Ha! A gardener can dream.
We have a decent tomato crop for the first time in several years. I was starting to think I’d lost my gardening mojo, but the cherry tomatoes are sweet and delicious, not to mention prolific.
I spent several hours last weekend taming the garden paths from the rapidly spreading nepeta and an annual called a 4’0clock. They fill the beds quickly and spill over on the path. The nepeta is a garden darling favored by cats, birds, bees, and paper wasps.
Last weekend, I spotted a mantis near the catmint. I coaxed him onto a stick and relocated him to a higher elevation for his safety.
Earlier in the year, we hired someone to replace the sideyard walkway, a project on my list for two years. When I met with a company specializing in hardscape to discuss our needs, the sales rep lacked the imagination and flexibility to do the job, prompting me to put it on hold again. The rep said they couldn’t repurpose the flagstone but would instead break it up and haul it away, providing their own material in its place. Go figure?
Fortuitously, a handyman we know reached out looking for work, so we hired him to do the job. It looks great.
The goal for the sideyard was one of safety as much as aesthetics: the stepping stones in place were small and uneven, presenting a tripping hazard. The ground cover that grew on either side looked great in the winter but dried to a crisp under the summer sun. I missed the green, so I added a few potted plants along the new path and hung a botanical print on the gate to create a focal interest. It feels good to check this project off the list.
Most of our spring plantings have done well, but we misjudged the placement of the Hostas.
They prefer shade, and we thought they would be ok, but the excess heat early this year and the sun’s rotation exposed them to more than they could handle. We’ll dig them up next month and hope they’ll survive a transplant to a shadier spot. I’m always learning.
I’ve missed blogging these past few months. August took on a life of its own. My younger sister sustained a foot wound on her wheelchair when a caregiver smashed her exposed heel on the footrest. The wound progressed to stage 3, requiring a trip to the emergency room and a three-week stay at a skilled nursing facility. I brought her kitty home to stay with us while Sharon healed. My sister was in pain for several days, but rest and good care helped. She was able to return to her assisted living home after three weeks and continues to receive care from a visiting nurse at home.
I had an appendicitis scare the Friday after Sharon went home. My doctor ordered an abdominal CT scan due to lower right abdominal pain. She thought it was my appendix. The on-call doctor called me that evening and said they saw something on the scan (a thickening of the appendix), and he sent me to the ER to have a surgeon make the call. I spent the night at Stanford Hospital, expecting surgery in the morning.
Saturday morning the on-call surgeon took a wait-and-see perspective, and I went home on antibiotics. The findings were atypical: My white blood cell count fell in the normal range, my pain was minimal, and I wasn’t running a fever. The surgeon suggested I try the antibiotic approach, and they gave me the warning signs to look for should things get worse. They did not.
Our son Chris managed the three cats, and friends came up and brought me home the following day.
It was a scary night. Mike was still in Argentina, and I couldn’t talk to him till the following day because of the five-hour time difference. He was already asleep by the time they admitted me. He was sad to be so far away in my time of need, but it all worked out.
Good riddance to August, and hello, early autumn days.
Lucky me! After another wet winter, the gardenias put out plentiful, magical, scented blooms, just waiting to be cut for a vase.
I’m joining “the Cathys” for a weekly meme encouraging bloggers to share something “In A Vase On Monday” or IAVOM. It’s a mouthful, and it’s fun.
I’ve arranged five gardenias in a glass jar, some asparagus fern, and a few swigs of purple salvia. Gardenias don’t last long in a vase, but it’s still worth bringing a few indoors. They turn brown and droop, but the intoxicating scent remains. With greenery to keep the flowers company, I can overlook the droop for that scent.
Instead of a vase, I’ve arranged my cut flowers in one of my favorite glass jars. The Quattro Stagionioma sauce is long gone, but the beautiful embossing lives on. It’s challenging to take pictures of glass, but I’m hoping you can see a bit of the pretty pattern.
For some beautiful inspiration, check out some of this week’s vases.
Cathy, the gardener who started IAVOM, shares her gorgeous roses and a history lesson from her English garden today at Rambling in the Garden.
From Cathy’s Bavarian garden, a stunning purple arrangement at Words and Herbs.
Eliza Waters shares the last of her stunning peonies, which were grown in her garden in Massachusetts, US, creating a breathtaking arrangement.
My garden is a magical place where fairies roam, and flowers grow.
Daily visitors include marauding squirrels, delicate hummingbirds, mourning doves, and songbirds with handsome yellow chests singing their hearts out in search of a mate.
It provides a refuge for spiders and mantis, which in turn keep the less beneficial bugs at bay. Fence lizards also have a place.
When I gather a spade of dirt and unearth a worm, I apologize and return it to the soil. Some of the hardest workers are unseen and unheard but equally deserving of our respect.
Baby Carrots Fresh from the Earth
Bees are welcome and encouraged with plentiful pollen to gather for their queen. Paper wasps live under the eaves, an equally beneficial guest in the garden’s echo system. They’re not aggressive like yellow jackets, but they are easily mistaken for them. I was pleased to learn the difference.
Paper wasps
Over the years, small packets of seeds have morphed into returning gems. Sweat peas are the garden darlings, with soft, fragrant petals ranging from pale pinks to rich purples and reds. They elicit comments from passersby, generating a feeling of nostalgia.
Nasturtium, purchased as a few bedding plants years ago, cast about the garden with brilliant, showy orange flowers and broad, flat leaves that remind me of paper fans.
California poppies spread across the walkway this year, with several taking up residence around the curb garden and along the drive. They, too, were first scattered from a packet of seeds.
Two seasons of welcome rain have filled reservoirs and water tanks while affording gardeners a reprieve from regular watering.
The garden continues to evolve, moving from the manicured lawn and roses we inherited when we bought this house to a garden filled with native and drought-tolerant plants, three mature trees, and a deck lined with succulents instead of thirsty annuals. The slider featur below shows the back garden in 1996 and 2024.
I’m grateful for the sun and the wind, the rain when it falls, and this lovely patch of earth outside my door.
We’ve had intermittent rain these last few weeks but found time to work in the garden and visit an open-space preserve. On colder days, we seek out the sun’s warmth by standing on the sidewalk with the sun on our shoulders for a few moments before returning to various tasks.
Mike soaking up some sun under stormy skies
Another winter of unusually heavy rains means lots of beautiful new growth and plenty of weeds. It’s easy to get the weeds out of the ground now, but it’s amazing how quickly the surface soil dries at season’s end. Unlike large parts of the country, San Jose is semi-arid, with most of our rainfall between November and March. After many years of drought, getting so much rain has been a gift.
I did some rearranging on the deck, moving a few succulents to make room for a potted Yarrow.
Together, we wrangled a huge pot from the deck to the area just in front of the deck and to the right of the steps leading to the garden. As the new plants in front of it fill out, it will look like part of the planted landscape. It’s too large and prickly to transplant easily, but since the pot has drainage, the plant is free to set down roots.
Last year, I dug out some overgrown grasses and planned to put down pavers to make a path. After meeting with a vendor and receiving the first quote, I soured on the idea. Then, I came to my senses and realized plants are more fun anyway. We’ve cleared a few overgrown shrubs and replaced them with beautiful, native, or water-wise plants.
Front garden, old and new: California poppies along the walkway
This year, hellebores, hostas, and carnations, also known as dianthus, are new to the garden. They’re tucked in with a thick layer of mulch to retain moisture and deter weeds. I can vouch for the first part of that equation, but weeds, cockroaches, and ivy will outlive us all.
With the garden tasks settled for now, Mike suggested a drive up to Sierra Vista Open Space Preserve. It’s been almost a year since we’ve been up that hill. I thought we had dressed warmly, but a cold wind blew through our layers, so we didn’t stay long.
I enjoyed seeing the cows with a few calfs and grazing horses. There were dozens of ground squirrels everywhere we looked, and they seemed unphased by our presence.
It will be nice to visit again when it’s warmer. April is just around the corner, and by May, we often suffer through our first heat wave. We’ll see how it goes.
We spent an hour at a local garden center this morning, filling our cart with various lovelies. After checkout, we stopped at a Burmese restaurant for lunch before returning home.
Almaden Nursery: Having a moment with the resident cat
I unloaded the car, placing each plant in an approximate location for its new home. We’ve planted several new perennials, and by we, I mean Mike. He’s happy to dig the necessary holes and repair the irrigation along the way.
I’m most excited about the peach, lime, and red carnations, not just because they’re named after pies. I’ve never grown them before. There is nothing quite like the promise of a new gardening season.
I asked Mike to remove an overgrown salvia to restore balance to the front garden’s planting scheme. The shrub grew taller and broader than expected, and even after heavy pruning, it seemed out of place.
Overgrown salvia
We planted three purple African Daisies along the front path and have yet to plant the lamb’s ear and yarrow, both needing full sun. I have a spot for them in the back garden. I’ll take pictures soon.
While Mike dug holes in the front garden, I dug up several self-sown nepetas, aka catnip, for our neighbors. After last year’s heavy rains, I had a bumper crop of catnip. It’s nice to share it with fellow cat lovers and the cats that love them.
Tessa enjoying the nepeta
Elsewhere in the garden, the freesias continue producing fragrant clusters in abundance. I’ve been bringing bunches of them indoors.
A couple of weekends ago, I placed netting around the edges of the planter box to support the emerging sweet peas. Today, I spotted the first sign of color.
The unexpected winter crop of mammoth sunflowers towers over the curb garden, but the flowers are fading, leaving behind a bird and squirrel smorgasbord. I will cut the stocks down to a meter or so, leaving them in place to support the crop of sweet peas moving in that direction.
I tucked a dozen gladiola bulbs in the space between all that growing. They should emerge sometime in June.
This week’s forecast is warm and dry, with a chance of rain on Friday. I hope that comes to pass, as it would be an excellent way to settle the garden.
Meanwhile, we have foraging birds and squirrels taking advantage of the abundance of seeds.
When I’m indoors looking out the window, the birds and squirrels strike delightful poses, but my camera phone can’t quite capture them. This afternoon, I looked up and spotted a squirrel dead center in the garden, standing up and appearing to look right at me. I’m sharing the photo even though it could be sharper.
Here’s another shot from the sideyard of a well-fed California Grey.
This pair of mourning doves spent an afternoon out back, but they’ve relocated to parts unknown. I don’t miss that mournful cooing, but I love watching them. Ana’s hummingbirds are enjoying the fountain along with an assortment of small songbirds.
This is my time of year!
“When the world wearies and society fails to satisfy, there is always the garden.” – Minnie Aumonier
We’ve had rain, sun, wind, and California cold this month, but nothing compared to Canada and the Midwest. I’m sending warm vibes to folks who are enduring -40 C/F.
My San Jose garden enjoyed the recent rain, a gentler version of last year’s repetitive atmospheric rivers. Slow and steady wins the race where rain is concerned. I’m grateful.
Without further ado, and In rainbow order, here are a few January garden gems:
Red abutilon is starting to reappear. I like to imagine a garden fairy trying on this beautiful dress.
Orange stocks have appeared for the first time on a pair of succulents in a pot on the deck. I transplanted these plants a few years ago, so seeing this new development is exciting.
Like a child at a candy shop, I can’t tell you how exciting it’s been to have a towering yellow sunflower in the middle of January.
Green is everywhere, but I’m featuring geranium leaves below. I love the multi-colored leaves.
Blue is tricky in the garden, so you have to play along here. This hydrangea flower has shades of blue and arrived well past its season’s prime, as evidenced by the faded brown flower by its side.
Violet is a garden favorite. I’m featuring another hydrangea, a Serbian bellflower, and what I thought was a salvia, but I’m no longer sure. Please let me know if you know differently.
Finally, I’m featuring black and white, not “colors/colours” at all, but I can never resist sharing what I refer to as fluff: The spent seeds from last summer’s Anemone. When I trim back the plants in early fall, I like to leave a few for the hummingbirds. They collect the Dandelion-like fluff for their nests. Aren’t they dreamy?
Now that spring is underway; the garden is filling nicely with greens and flowers. So it’s nice to join theCathy’s for some Monday cheer.
After gathering greens from one azalea and three calla lilies, I cut a handful of the fading yellow Freesia. Try as I might, though, I couldn’t get the flowers to work in one arrangement. I arranged two smaller vases, one with Freesia and azalea greens,
Over the weekend, I arranged another vase for a friend’s birthday. I wish all of my friends celebrated birthdays this time of year. It’s so cheering giving flowers from one’s garden.
Please follow this link to see the other In A Vase on Monday posts.
Thank you, Cathy, at and Cathy at Words and Herbs.
Gardening Nirvana 