Gardens

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The Traveling Gardener: Flowers of Southern California

I took a road trip this weekend with a small group of close friends covering several hundred miles of California. We started in the Bay Area, moved south to Santa Cruz, and then traveled “The 5” to Marina del Ray. The trip was extraordinary in many ways. I had joyous, but all too brief reunions with friends from my theater days; wonderful re-acquaintances after thirty years.  Through the connectivity of Facebook, I’ve opened doors to people I would never have met, while drawing back the curtain from parts of my life I was sorry to see fade away.  I’m still reveling in this friendship high.

We passed miles of coastline and rolling hills, and the not so elegant oil-well pumps and truck stops.  Garden enthusiasts like me reaped the benefits of travel in early spring: flowers everywhere.

Here are a few of my favorites.

Madonna Inn: Poppies in the Rain

Tiny Little Flowers Cascading Over Rocks

Part of the Santa Barbara Welcoming Committee

Bird of Paradise after dark in Marina del Rey

Palm Fronds Rustle in the Breeze in Marina del Rey

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A Case of Mistaken Identity

Well I’m embarrassed! Yesterday I posted a photo thinking it was a carrot about to bloom. Imagine my surprise today to find this beautiful California poppy flowering away in the sun.

Yep! That's a Poppy

For starters, I’ve never planted poppies. It’s our state flower and we’re not supposed to pick them. I worried that if I planted poppies I would be tempted to snip a few blooms to bring indoors. I’m no law-breaker!

Closing Up Shop for the Night

We planted carrot seeds last summer. That they never grew is irrelevant. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that nature has her own schedule. When the foliage first appeared at the soil line, I dug down with a finger and discovered an orange-colored root. I was sure it was a carrot. I looked up “carrot foliage” today and it does resemble our fair flower.

Buds and Greens

It’s not that I’m disappointed to have our beautiful state flower in bloom, but that I was so convinced it was otherwise.   I snapped a few photos late in the day, but the skies were clouding over so the lovely bloom was already closing up shop.

Never a dull moment in the garden.

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After Dark

After Dark

I’ve gardened in the rain and cold until my fingers were numb.  I’ve gardened at dusk till feasting mosquitoes drove me indoors.  I’ve even gardened in the mid-day heat, keeping the tormenting sun at bay with hats and sunscreens and moveable umbrellas.  But I’ve never gardened after dark.

“Dark” is subjective of course. It’s that time of day when I reluctantly turn my garden over to the other side.  If I’m outside too late, Dark reveals opossums, meandering along the fence.  Frankly, they give me the creeps.  I once encountered one on my pathway late at night, walking straight for me.  I froze in place, but it ignored me and meandered on.

Raccoons also visit the yard, playing in the fountain and on one occasion, tapping on the cat door.   The rats don’t always wait for Dark.  They rustle around in the orange tree reminding me to pack up my tools and head on in.  Dark is just around the corner.

Spiders, a gardeners friend, have cousins that prefer to wait for Dark.  They live under the BBQ and below the eaves.  They don’t make a sound, adding to the creepiness factor, but I know they’re there.

I’ve found myself racing the setting sun, trying to pull one more weed before night falls, trying to prune one last vine.   I become a little obsessed with the work at hand and I’m reluctant to stop.  In the summer months it’s usually too hot to garden by day.  My fair skin prefers the damp mists of Avalon to the sunny climate of San Jose.  Since I live in the suburbs and not a mystical novel I’m forced to make do. So I race that setting sun while acknowledging the inevitable.  My garden is harmless by day, but like the closet of my youth, with the flip of the light switch, all bets are off.