Tuesday, December 6, 2011

What are these white blankets?

Last night we had our first freeze of the season. As is so often the case, the weather people on TV made a big deal out of it (apparently they don’t have much else to report), and I did get swept up in the frenzy. I hauled out my stack of frost blankets and covered many of my succulents. I figured it’s better to be safe than sorry even though virtually every plant that is left outside can handle temperatures down into the upper 20s.

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Succulent display table next to the front porch
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Succulent bed in the front yard
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One of the stainless steel tables in the backyard…
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…and my potting bench—although currently it is covered with potted cuttings

I also moved some potted plants up against the house…

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…and a few others went in the dining room for the night where they joined the tropical plants I’m overwintering there (Mimosa pudica, currently sulking, Begonia luxurians, and two angel-wing begonias).

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The official nighttime low for Davis ended up being 30.5°F. Yes, below freezing but barely. There was frost on the lawn this morning and the neighbors’ roofs were white, but since temperatures were only below freezing for a few hours, I don’t think any gardener around here lost anything—unless they left out their tropical orchids.

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While this ended up being much ado about nothing, I’m ready for winter now, and my frost blankets are ready to be deployed at a moment’s notice. Actually, I’m leaving them in place until tomorrow since tonight is supposed to be another cold one.

One note about frost blankets: The ones I use are made of polypropylene. Since they are very light, they don’t put as much weight on plants as a sheet might, especially as it absorbs moisture from the air. The information given by various manufacturers varies, but frost blankets seem to add 2-4°F of protection. In my case, that’s typically enough to prevent leaf damage to succulents or tender perennials.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Cactus fruit tasting

I’ve posted several times this year about four segments of a Queen of the Night cactus (Cereus hildmannianus susp.hildmannianus) I rescued from the yard waste pile. One of them produced four show-stopping flowers and then set three fruits. Two of these grew and gradually changed color from green to purple to pink. I kept an eye on them because I wanted to pick the fruit at the right time in order to taste it. Like most cereus, this species has edible fruit.

                                                                                                                           
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One of the four segments I brought home and potted up
                                                                                                                                
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The largest segment bloomed in August. Three flowers opened at the same time and I hand-pollinated them using a small paintbrush. My efforts were successful.
                                                                                                                                            
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The two “good” fruits in late October (left) and in early December (right)

Yesterday I finally picked one of the fruits, which was the size of a kiwi. I realized right away that I had waited a bit too long because the underside was split. My friend Candy of Sweetstuff’s Sassy Succulents had warned me about that. I now wish I had picked it before Thanksgiving. Oh well, another learning moment.

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Split underside. I had waited a little too long.

Most of the inside looked perfectly fine, but there were some brown spots at the end. They look worse in the next photo than they were in real life. I scooped out the flesh with a spoon, cut off the brown parts, and served it up to the family sitting at the breakfast table. While not exactly clamoring to try it, everybody humored me.

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So what it did taste like? The consistency was much like watermelon, the seeds adding a nice, pleasant crunch, much like kiwi seeds do. I expected the flavor to be sour, but it wasn’t. “Perfumy” was all I could come up with, but my 13-year old daughter hit the nail on the head: honeysuckle! Not like people eat honeysuckle on a regular basis, but if you’ve ever sucked on a honeysuckle flower, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Overall, a refreshing taste but not exactly a wow experience. Still, if I had a large crop I’d make cereus margarita!

Related posts

3/10/11: Cactus rescued from the gutter
3/28/11: Potting rescued cactus sections
8/15/11: Queen of the Night getting ready to flower
8/17/11:
Queen of the Night goes out with a bang

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Here and gone

Today was a busy day in the garden. The first order of business was removing a 4 ft. Yucca gloriosa from the succulent bed next to the front door. While I liked the architectural look of this yucca and its current size, I knew that it couldn’t stay in this spot forever, considering its size potential and relatively fast growth rate. Since the base of the plant was getting thick and woody, I was afraid digging it out would become progressively more difficult so I bit the bullet this morning. Contrary to what I had expected, our trusty pry bar dislodged the root ball quite easily and I was able to lift out the plant unharmed. I wrapped the root ball in plastic, listed it on Freecycle, and by 1pm it had been picked up. Hopefully it will have a good home somewhere else.

                                                                                                                                                    
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Yucca gloriosa—here…and gone
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I was surprised by the dainty roots. I had expected much thicker, woodier roots.

The big question is what to plant in this spot. I don’t honestly know. For now, I’ve put the Yucca rostrata I bought a few weeks ago at Poot’s Cactus Nursery in Ripon, CA where the Yucca gloriosa had been to see if I like it there. Yucca rostrata has the potential to grow to 12 ft., which would be too big for this spot as well. But it’s a veeeeery slow grower; it could take 20 years for it to reach its mature height.

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Yucca rostrata where
the Yucca gloriosa had been

Next on my hit list were two red hot pokers (Kniphofia uvaria) outside the front yard fence. While I love their flowers, their foliage looks weedy to me. In addition, the two clumps you see in the photo below—tight and manageable this past spring—had become sprawling and quite invasive. I had been going back and forth all fall between dividing them or removing them altogether, and I finally decided to go all the way and find a new home for them.

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Kniphofia uvaria in the spring of 2011
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Look at how large and weedy the clumps had gotten!

The clumps were actually small colonies. The one on the right consisted of at least 10-15 individual plants. Offsets were coming up against the fence! As with the Yucca gloriosa, I used the pry bar, but it was much harder going and required more physical exertion than I’m used to. Luckily, my wonderful wife helped and eventually we had both clumps out. I posted them on Freecycle and I hope somebody local will give them a new home.

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After the red hot pokers had been removed

I replaced the right clump with an Elegia capensis, a restio from South Africa that I had planted against the fence on the left. (Read this post about the restios I bought this spring.) Unfortunately, it had been overshadowed all summer by taller plants and was languishing. I’m hoping this new spot will be more to its liking.

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Elegia capensis where one of the
red hot pokers had been

Unless you know what a mature Elegia capensis looks like, you might not think that it looks like much based on the photo above. Here’s a photo I found of a stunning specimen growing in the north of France. I hope that my plant will look at least half as good in 3-5 years!

Elegia capensis growing in Brittany, Northern France
Source: Visoflora

The final plant that got the boot today was this large clump of Silver Arrow maiden grass (Miscanthus sinensis ‘Silberpfeil’). This was the hardest decision for me since I truly love this grass. However, in spite of me dividing it last spring, it had simply gotten too large for its spot. Its stalks were so heavy this summer that they flopped forward and smothered the plants in front of it. My wife really wanted it gone and before I knew it, she was swinging the gold old pry bar.

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Miscanthus sinensis ‘Silberpfeil’, summer 2011

After a good deal of joint prying and tugging, we were finally able to lift out the clump intact. It also went into the curb and got posted on Freecycle. So far nobody has come to get it. If it doesn’t find a taker, it’ll be picked up on Monday morning by the City of Davis yard waste crew and will become compost. What a shame…

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Where the Miscanthus sinensis ‘Silberpfeil’ had been. I won’t plant anything there for now because I think the emerald bamboo (Bambusa textilis ‘Mutabilis’) on the right will eventually expand to this spot.
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Silver Arrow and red hot pokers in the curb, waiting for takers

Removing plants that are a familiar sight in your garden can be a surprisingly emotional thing. It was no different for me today. But I kept reminding myself that a garden is a dynamic environment, always evolving, and change is good.

Friday, December 2, 2011

Black oaks in the fog

If I had a large property, I would plant a grove of California black oaks (Quercus kelloggii). You find these magnificent trees, some up to 80 ft. tall, in many places in Northern California but they often grow side by side with conifers, which in my opinion takes away from their beauty.

My favorite “pure” stand of black oaks is in Mount Shasta along the road to Castle Lake (be sure to check out this photo to see how spectacular this landscape is). I’ve photographed this stand for many years, in various seasons, and the mood differs greatly depending on the prevailing color.

Green dominates in the summer…

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…while in the fall it’s yellow.

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Fall

But these trees are at their most ethereal in the late fall and winter when there is the fog. I was fortunate enough to be in the right spot at the right time on Thanksgiving morning. The photos below capture the mood of the place—majestic, mystical, eery.

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Within 15 minutes, the sun started to chase away the fog. First the light turned almost pure white—a blinding glare—then the fog was gone and the forest looked a lot more ordinary.

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Thursday, December 1, 2011

Nocturne in the fog

I haven’t had much free time this week due to work that didn’t get done over the Thanksgiving break. Since it’s dark by 5:30 p.m. these days, there’s little opportunity for garden-related activities after work. I have a long list of chores for the weekend, including repotting of some bamboos and removal of two overly large clumps of Kniphofia uvaria. I’m also thinking of creating another succulent bed in the backyard—not 100% sure about that one yet. And let’s not forget the drifts of leaves everywhere, especially after the super windy day we’ve had today. They need to be dealt with, too.

What I did do the other night was take some photos of our yard and the neighborhood since it was really foggy. As I was patiently waiting for each 30-second exposure to complete, I couldn’t help but be in awe at the silence that fog brings. While we live in a reasonably quiet part of town, there’s always noise from somewhere; sometimes we can even hear the train although the tracks are miles away.

Not so when there is fog.

What I did hear was the almost otherworldly honking of geese flying overhead. Since it was dark and the fog was thick as pea soup, I couldn’t see even a trace of them. I kept wondering if they were real or if I was imagining them. It was a very Edgar Allan Poe moment!

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Giant clumping timber bamboo (Bambusa oldhamii) in front of our house
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Baby blue bamboo (Bambusa chungii ‘Barbellata) in our front yard
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Bradford pear (Pyrus calleryana ‘Bradford’) next to street light
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Succulent rain cover (read this post for more info)
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Dwarf Cavendish banana (Musa acuminata 'Dwarf Cavendish')
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Chocolate bamboo (Borinda fungosa) on the left
and bamboo muhly grass (Muhlenbergia dumosa) in the pot on the right
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Looking down the street
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Dropping off library books

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Late fall at the UC Davis Arboretum

The Arboretum on the University of California Davis campus is only a few miles from our house. I visit frequently and have written several related posts (1 2 3 4).

Sunday was a gray day but temperatures were fairly mild so the whole family joined me on a walk along Putah Creek, the main body of water that winds its way through the Arboretum.

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I knew that there would be fall color from deciduous trees such as Chinese pistache and cohorts, and I wasn’t disappointed.

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To my surprise, I also encountered two species of deciduous conifers I had never noticed there before: bald cypress (Taxodium distichum), common in the Southeastern U.S. but not often seen here in the West, and dawn redwood (Metasequoia glyptostroboides), a redwood relative native to Central China.

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Bald cypress (Taxodium distichum) glowing like a beacon
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Bald cypress (Taxodium distichum)
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Bald cypress (Taxodium distichum)
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Bald cypress (Taxodium distichum)
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Left: Bald cypress (Taxodium distichum)
Middle: Dawn redwood (Metasequoia glyptostroboides)
Right: Ginkgo (Ginkgo biloba)

The Arboretum has quite a few ginkgos, many of them planted as memorial trees. Unlike the blazing yellow specimen I photographed last week, many were still mostly green, with just a hint of yellow around the leaf margins.

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Ginkgo biloba ‘Fairmont’

Some of the trees planted right along the banks of Putah Creek are very sculptural, their branches reaching down and almost touching the water. With leaves beginning to turn, or already gone, they are reflecting the time of year.

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Unidentified big tree by the water
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This small dock is a popular hangout for kids who like to feed the ducks (officially discouraged but…)
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Trees that have already shed their leaves present a majestic outline against the gray sky

While deciduous shrubs and trees bear witness to the season, many Mediterranean plants look the way they always do. In fact, winter is when rosemary blooms best in our climate.

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Blooming rosemary (Rosmarinus officinalis)
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Blooming rosemary (Rosmarinus officinalis) and bush germander (Teucrium fruticans)
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Not a Mediterranean native, but flowering merrily at this time of year: a winter-blooming red hot poker (Knipfhofia sp.)

At the end of our walk, we circled through the Ruth Storer Valley-Wise Garden which showcases both native and climate-appropriate plants from other parts of the world. Here you find Japanese barberries planted next to yuccas from the Southwest, and brachyglottis from New Zealand juxtaposed with a smoke bush from the Southeast.

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Yucca recurvifolia ‘Margaritaville’ and Japanese barberry (Berberis thunbergii ‘Rose Glow’)
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Calla lilies (Zantedeschia aethiopica) and Japanese barberry (Berberis thunbergii ‘Rose Glow’)
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Silver Spider maiden grass (Miscanthus sinensis ‘Silberspinne’) and Japanese barberry (Berberis thunbergii)
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Sarabande maiden grass (Miscanthus sinensis ‘Sarabande’) and autumn sage (Salvia gregii)
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Smoke bush (Cotinus coggygria x dummeri ‘Grace’)
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Smoke bush (Cotinus coggygria) and Brachyglottis ‘Sunshine’
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Brachyglottis ‘Sunshine.’ This small shrub from New Zealand used to be part of the gigantic Senecio family
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No sign of late fall here: Texas sage or cenizo (Leucophyllum frutescens) and an unidentified rose cultivar