time for little stars

Brassavola Little Stars (Brassavola nodosa x B. cucullata) has started blooming. It's not the best year for it, since I divided the plants last year, but the flowers are highly anticipated and cherished nevertheless. I waxed on about the plant and the incredible nighttime fragrance (its parent B. nodosa is called "Lady of the Night orchid" after all), in a previous blog entry. Sniffing the flowers this year, I understand my friend who doesn't really like the fragrance. It is not necessarily a pleasant fragrance. There are tones of acetone to the fragrance that are a bit odd. It is not a sweet floral fragrance that you would expect if all you had experienced previous to this were "orchid" scented candles or room scents. Those synthetic fragrances don't smell much like orchids to me. There is certainly a spiciness to the flowers' scent, as I mentioned in the previous blog, of cloves, nutmeg, cardamom, ginger, lilies and star jasmine. There is also a distinct hydrocarbon aspect. I expect that the moths and other night-flying insects of the tropics find this scent irresistible. I wonder what my love of the flowers says about me.

mr. doom and gloom

With the onset of the cold weather, I have become Mr. Doom and Gloom. Even the orchids haven't cheered me up since they had not yet started blooming. Good thing I bought a Meyer lemon bush this last summer. It's blooming now, and even has a single fruit. A couple of whiffs of lemon blossom, and the spirits rise. In a few days, the Little Stars orchids will be in bloom. Bliss.

disposable lives

One of my peeves that gets my tail in a knot is the casual way in which people treat plant lives. This is particularly true around the holidays, when people give living plants as gifts to be enjoyed. What does that say about us, when we consider enjoyment to be the placing of living things in environments that are not suitable for their health or sustenance until they wither and die? We find joy in causing their death? Bad light conditions, decorative pots in which plants either drown or dehydrate, and inappropriate temperature and humidity spell the deaths of these plants. (Above, what I call a bowl of death).

That's not even going into what the plants went through to get to that point. I suppose you could consider some of them as being pampered, but that would be about the same as saying that the goose that gave fois gras was pampered before its death.

It's plant torture. One of the worst examples of this are the decorative gift "bonsai" trees. Even well-cared for bonsai are in a state of fragile bondage. Every moment of their lives are constrained and controlled in ways that are contrary to the plants natural habit. Roots are bound and pruned. Every drop of water is only what the owner allots to it. A missed day or two can mean the death of the plant. Branches are bound and forced into arrangement like the feet of women in China a century or so ago. Any attempt by the plant to grow out of bounds is immediately addressed in the severest measure. Limbs and trunks are stripped to create scars suggestive of age. It is about as much as someone can do to it without quite going over the line of death. These things done to a human would be extreme torture. (I suppose that you could say that life is about suffering whether plant or human)

Of course, most gift bonsai plants never live past the few weeks of the holiday (most being outdoor plants that can't tolerate indoor conditions), though well-cared for (huh, well-cared for!) plants can live for centuries (can you imagine enduring centuries of bondage, torture, and mutilation? We do find beauty in suffering, though, as some fantastic works of art occurred from the persecution of such individual. But it's a sad excuse to claim the pursuit of beauty in torturing someone). It has been said that I should start a BLF (Bonsai liberation front) movement, planting bonsai in the ground.


How can I find it beautiful when bulbs are placed in stones and forced into bloom until spent and then discarded? Even if planted outdoors, these bulbs forced into bloom out of season would die, or more typically would not survive in that climate anyway. Even if planted out in an appropriate climate, forced bulbs take a few years to recover. Plants that can be grown as houseplants are better, but how many people are able to successfully grow amaryllis from year to year?


I suppose you could say that any garden is an exercise in control. That's what we find beautiful in many gardens: the placing of plants, the shape, form, calculated bloom times. And who can say that plants in the wild have it any easier? They struggle against weather, competition, browsing animals. They frequently do not survive. But the differences are many-fold. Plants in nature are doing what they are meant to do most of the time. They are growing where they are adapted to grow, and growing in bare stones and water in a glass container is not where I see many plants that are given as holiday plants, growing naturally. The difference is also that we are not inflicting wild plants with their struggles, although we can appreciate them and the beauty they have achieved because of them. In the garden, we are at least attempting to provide plants with conditions necessary for their natural habit of growth rather than placing them in conditions that we know will only quickly lead to their death.

I think there is a line that is crossed in disposable holiday plants.

So what to do? Well I am guilty of giving amaryllis bulbs to my family this year. I gave them bulbs that were pre-planted in decorative pots. These pots are not ideal for growing them on in the future, but at least there is some soil for the roots. I also know that my family members know how to care for plants, and will give their amaryllis a bright windowsill, regular moistening, and even some nutrition (or suffer my wrath!). My family also lives in areas where amaryllis can be planted outdoors, and they were advised of this. They have all shown the ability to successfully care for potted plants.

The point is: give plants that aren't just going pretty for a week or two and then die or be disposed of. These are plants such as azaleas, poinsettias, cyclamen, unless you live in an area where they can be planted outdoors before they die (putting them outside where they freeze to death doesn't count). Avoid plants that really should be outdoor plants, but are forced to bloom for the holidays (like lavender). There is never enough light indoors for them to survive. Please don't give bonsai. If you must give a plant, give something like christmas cactus, which can be a houseplant that can live happily on a windowsill for years. The cybister amaryllis, or the "butterfly" amaryllis papilio are said to live happily as evergreen houseplants. Clivia would be a generous gift. Consider a beautiful houseplant. Keep in mind also, the recipient's desires. Do they even want a plant? If the plant is for yourself, can you care for the plant after the bloom is over?
Christmas cactus

Butterfly amaryllis

Cybister amaryllis


Clivia

You may find all this a bit extreme. But in all honesty, I do find it sad, the numbers of plants that will perish during the holidays.

(images off the web, primarily from White Flower Farm and Jackson & Perkins. This is not an endorsement or a condemnation. They just have pretty pictures)

saving grace

The saving grace of cold winters is the occasional snow. It is not very frequent here, and when it does come, it does not last very long. Usually, the warm bright sunshine makes quick work of the snow, the next day. My sister commented that she thought that it was snowy throughout the winter here, since every winter I have been sending her photos of the snow. What a misrepresentation! It was the unusual aspect of the snow that made me send her the photos, so that was all she saw.

Whenever people visit my garden, they ask me what I am going to plant in this pot. It has been empty for years. It's not because I can't decide what to plant in it. Actually, I had planned on putting in a water feature. But getting an electrical supply to that area of the garden would be a hassle, and I've put it off. I love the way that the snow brings out the geometry of the pot's rim. So much so, that I'm leaving it empty.

The icing of snow on the top of the fence always catches my eye. Is this why they call certain pastry decorations, icing?

marsh

When I was in school, I spent my summers at my sister's house, which was previously my parents' house. It was situated within walking distance to the shoreline, where there still is a nature center, and walking and biking paths. There were a series of mounds in the marsh, and it was fun to ride my bike across them, along the paths that others had made. I'd pedal hard to reach the top of a ridge, and zoom down the precipice into the bottom, then use the momentum and pedal hard to reach the top of the next. It was a series of hills and valleys, screaming speed and mad pedaling, but oh, what fun!

The house is again my parents' house, my father now walking slowly with a cane, whereas when they lived there before, he could lift a cow. While on this trip, I visited that marshy playground of my youth, walking the short distance to the shore. These days, the hilly bike paths are gone, the area now a series of high priced houses, as shown above. There is now an asphalt paved walking path, whereas the path I remember was gravel. This is the first time I've walked this area since those days on my bike, and the trees of the new houses look like they have had 7 or 8 years of growth on them. These changes make me realize the time that has passed, how long it has been since I was here last. Although I am not an "old" man now, if I saw me now when I was of the age when I first biked the path, I would say that the me of now was very old indeed. I feel time weighing upon me.

The paved walking path along the shoreline follows the same route, and I walked along it to the marina. The path is now crowded with people, whereas I remember being the only one riding the trails on my bike. Here is the place where the water was violet as the sun set, and I watched it in quiet solitude. There is where the clouds of insects lay in waiting for me to pass. That place is where I lost control of my bike, skidded out, hit my head, and there was no one to see this accident. There is where the driftwood collects. Those places are still there. There is still beauty to be found. Though the years have passed and new pathways laid, these things have not changed.

november in albuquerque

Just for contrast from my previous post, of my sister's neighborhood, here are some images from my neighborhood. Yucca thompsoniana looking cute, above.

Roses in my neighborhood are a bit less than perfect.

Or a bit more than a bit.

I did find some colorful leaves, in this case a flowering pear tree.

Another pear, looking eye-catching, although the surrounding landscape is rather different.

And the milkweed seed pods are opening, the fluff catching the light.


A couple of front yards to contrast from those in my previous post.


A pathway of muted browns and grey-greens. I actually find this to be a restive color scheme.

Just for perspective. This is where I get homesick. I'll take more flattering photos next time.

november in norcal

While the world is fading to brown around me here in Albuquerque, the gardens around my sister's house by the Bay are humming along. I was there for a visit this past week. My brother-in-law's pale version of Princess Flower (Tibouchina urvilleana - above) is looking perky after a rainstorm.

Isn't Agapanthus supposed to bloom in the summer?

The roses were perfect. Just impossibly perfect (but apparently not impossible, because they were everywhere).


Just a tiny portion of this house's many roses.


The persimmon trees were glorious, the leaves and the fruit nearly the same color.

Persimmon trees would be great even if they didn't have delicious fruit.

The combination of roses and fall leaves were not unusual.



"Lemon tree, very pretty, and the flowers are so sweet..."
How many places can boast of blooming daylilies at this time of year?

Bougainvillea and Princess flower are blooming away. Hard to believe it is November.

When I was young, I used to wonder how anyone could stand living anywhere else. I realized that this climate was only a very small portion of country, and I felt sorry for everyone else. I felt very lucky.

Now I am everyone else. Then again there aren't that many people who get to live here, either. Every locale has its distinct characteristics to cherish, even if things are not blooming year-round.

I've got to remember that.

cakewalk

I've been away visiting the folks in the San Francisco Bay area. Spent a day helping my sister make cakes for my father's birthday party. With the addition of another sister's chocolate mousse cake, there were six cakes altogether. Whew! Plant photos to come.


This was my contribution, and yes, I made the rose from fondant. Looked better in real life than in the photos, but oh well. OCD* is a necessary qualification to making this cake.

Chocolate mousse cake and swirly circle cake made by a sister.

My 10 year-old niece made this one. How cool is this? I love it.

All of us together made this one.

One sister and I made a frog-on-a-lily-pad cake. I didn't think about taking a photo until it was almost devoured. Sister made the frog.*Obsessive-compulsive disorder.