February First Views (Town Mouse)

As Gardenrant reports, the NWF has come to a more or less satisfactory close. So we can return to our regular programming, and with the first week of the month just starting, it's time for First Views. I started this meme because I realized that I had lots of great close-ups of the flowers in my garden, but that I did not have pictures of the garden itself, as it unfolds month by month. Now I post views of the garden every month in the first week of the month, and invite others to share their views.

When I started walking around with my camera early this morning, I was actually somewhat surprised by how green it is. We've had 2.75 inches of rain since last June (if this were a normal year, we'd have 10 inches or more). But somehow, the plants manage. Sure, I've started to water once a week, but the annuals are coming up all by themselves, Just look at the bright green California poppy in the picture above.

 

Other areas are more sparse. Surrounding the green container above we have Columbine all spring and summer, followed by California fuchsia in late summer and fall. But I cut everything back to 1 inch in December, so now the color comes from the Camelia that I add to the garden buddha. 

Around the corner things are already more colorful. The little pink blossoms of the Australian tea tree to the right are visited by hummingbirds every day. 

Viewed from the other side you can see the bright green Clarkia that somehow seems to hang in there, drought or not. And the biggest surprise - yes, this calls for a close-up. 

Salvia brandegii 'Pacific Blue' is actually blooming! Well, I've never seen that in late January before!

 

Meanwhile, the  front garden looks fairly tidy, with most of the leaves gone and the seedheads removed from Eriogonum arborescens (channel island buckwheat). And while I'm sorely missing the rain, I'm not missing the weeds that usually appear with it. Sure, there are still a few weeds but nothing like last year!

In the panorama view, we can see that a few annuals are also risking it (Phacelia to the left of the path). I'm hoping they'll make it, and might just supplement with some water. No irrigation in the front, so we'll see how motivated I get.

As a final picture, another close-up to prove that things are not as grim as they might be. The manzanita "hedge", while not yet as hedge-like as I would have hoped, is blooming quite prettily. Let's add some water here so we can get a little more growth.

And now I'm hoping some of you will join me and Country Mouse in sharing some views of the garden. I'll put up a Mr. Linky widget and visit everyone who decides to participate.

Getting the Word Out (NWF and Scotts): A Contrarian View

This is a response to Carole Sevilla Brown's interview with David Mizejewski of National Wildlife Federation. Read Carole's post, David Mizejewski Defends National Wildlife Federation Partnership with Scotts Miracle Gro and listen to her interview.

And before you read on please first read Town Mouse's response on our blog (just prior to this post)  Getting the Word Out (to which my post is a response).

The issue, for those like me who are coming to the table just lately, is that National Wildlife Federation has partnered with Scotts, the company that brings you Miracle-Gro, Osmocote, Ortho, Roundup, Scotts Lawn Service, and Scotts Wild Bird Food.

Confession: Of that list I have in fact used Roundup and an Ortho nasty brush killer, which I used one time dabbing carefully on trunks of a huge swathe of poison oak near our home, not long after I moved in. Roundup I use very seldom and also only on poison oak. I've tried to get off the Roundup, but I periodically cave in, preferring careful and limited use of it once or twice a year in areas near paths around our home to the three weeks of itchy rash I almost always get no matter how careful I am. Roundup is also one that people have mixed views about, and people on the wildlife side I respect think it's not that bad and has its place. Thus I vacillate. I am a vacillator, in fact as you will see in this post.

I also use osmocote, as do many native plant nurseries such as Yerba Buena nursery.

We all in the choir know about lawns and the impact they have on the environment in so many ways, and if you don't you can easily find out by a simple google search. Lose the lawn, folks.

OK, here's my off the cuff response. I posted this as a comment on the Beautiful Wildlife Gardens post, but I'd like to bring it into our space here. ...


I expect David is totally sincere. I expect he is tired of just preaching to the choir and wants to make a difference in the lives of all the people in the Scott's camp, which is a lot of people. I expect he wants to shift their views and open their eyes and get their kids outside and benefit nature. I expect he feels that he's opening up Scotts to some input from the enlightened side. I expect people at NWF seriously argued themselves into the ground over this.  And there is all that money, which they can use to broadcast their message more widely.

I expect Scotts may have had different discussions in their boardrooms, just like Chevron in theirs, regarding their environmental greenwash projects.

I expect NWF has in fact lost its base, and maybe they calculated the cost/benefit ratio of doing that. We'll take down our signs, and others will put them up. On their lawns.

As they say, there is no bad publicity - the discussions we in the choir are having, the loud chorus of protest - it's all good in terms of the larger cause. And that also probably played into the NWF calculations.

So I don't know. I'm not in favor of dumping chemicals on mother nature of course. But I do see the thick layers of insulation between different opinion and thought groups in today's media. Some people have a Fox News reality, some are Huffington Posters, and it's hard to bridge the gap and create cross communication - that insularity is promoted by the internet (we find what we search for) and it is a very bad thing.

I hope NWF does punch through to get kids off their sofas, off their lawns, and into the wilds.

As we fire arrows at their ships, sailing off towards these enemy shores I think I actually do wish them well in their changed mission, though I am almost afraid to say so in this unanimously oppositional space.

Politics is about compromise, that's what I learned in American political science 101. NWF is a political group.

We also need a choir, and I'm happy to be part of it. Life is a lot simpler in the choir. But I'd also like someone to reach certain folk in my orbit that are beyond my reach. Maybe then they'll be able to hear my song.

So - I'm just not as sure as the rest of you on this.

Getting the Word Out

Normally I'm happy to stay in my little California Native Plant corner and let the great world of gardening unfold outside. But I do want to point anybody who might have missed it to some important posts:

Earlier this week, Carole at Beautiful Wildlife Garden wrote an informative and very even-handed post about Scotts partnering with the National Wildlife Federation. This was followed by a somewhat more spirited post by Susan at Gardenrant "Everyone Furious at National Wildlife Federation".
I particularly liked this part:
"And I'm not the only one (by far) who got their yard NWF-certified and came to regret it due to the onslaught of junk mail that followed.  I've worked for nonprofits, done fund-raising for them, but never seen anything like the weekly pleas for money from the NWF.  How many stuffed polar bears do they think we need?"


And today, Susan at Garden Rant points to the following information:
"Wow, Scotts is in the news again, with this announcement of their $4.5 million fine for selling pesticide-laden bird food and falsifying their EPA paperwork about it, no less."

Makes me quite happy that I never managed to sign up for the wildlife habitat program and had my own California Native Garden sign made. But also makes me sad. How far have we come with spin? Does NWF really believe this storm will blow over? And might they be right?

In Search of Rain

Average annual rainfall varies for different San Francisco Bay area (and Santa Cruz county) towns, but where I live, 13 inches per rainfall year is normal. Last year, we managed 16 inches, and the garden looked great. This year, though, things are grim. With the rainfall year starting July 1st, we only had 1.5 inches of rain by January 10, the driest winter in recorded history.

I actually turned on the irrigation once a week and did some hand watering, but clearly the ferns under the redwoods did not consider my efforts adequate, and the Artemesia above looks as if it's destined for the compost pile.

Why is this happening? A big part of it is that it's a La Niña year. El Niño and La Niña are both weather patterns. During a period of La Niña, the sea surface temperature  across the equatorial Eastern Central Pacific Ocean are lower than normal by 3–5 °C. This pattern results in more rain and snow in some areas (remember the news about the Alaska village?) and less rain in other areas.

During a La Niña year, southern California has below normal percipitation fairly reliably (see this discussion). For Central California, the situation is a little more open ended. The dividing line between the wet northern area in a La Niña year and a dry El Nino year is around San Francisco (see this discussion). So we can have dry El Niño and wet La Niña years.

This year, though, it's been very dry. My wildflower seeds did not sprout. Half of the Manzanitas do not seem to have buds. It's been a little depressing, and not as exciting to be in the garden. So I was really happy when a series of storms was forecast for last weekend, and went in search of rain at Arastradero Open Space Preserve.

I know we usually yearn  for photos with blue sky and green leaves, but I was so happy to see the rainclouds behind the native oaks. In fact, it looked as if it already rained closer to the coast - would the rain make it over here?

The lichen looked just as dried out as my ferns, but as I started heading back to the car, the first rain drops started to fall. We had a good soaking rain the first night, and a slightly less impressive storm a day later. We're not at 2.7 inches for the rainfall year, still 50% of normal but it's a start. Let's keep our fingers crossed for more - the gardens, the trees, the flowers, the critters - we all need it.

"The Landscaping Revolution" - Review of an Out-of-Print Marvel

Much as I support my local book store, I do like online book shopping. You look up one book and Amazon shows you ten other books you might like to read. That's how I came across The Landscaping Revolution: Garden With Mother Nature, Not Against Her by Andy Wasowski, with Sally Wasowski. This book was published in 2000 and no doubt some of the statistics quoted could use updating, but the points are all still relevant today.

READ ME

At first I was, in a weird way, totally dismayed by this book -- It's so good -- what's left for me to do? Andy (with Sally) Wasowski has said it all! And in such an entertaining and engaging way!

Andy (with Sally) is not talking to you and me. If you are reading this blog, you've already gotten Mother Nature's memo. You know from pollinators. You've banished the toxic chemicals that harm them (and your kids and pets). You are saving a ton on your water bill. You understand the importance of supporting biodiversity in your specific locale, and you already experience the deep enjoyment of nurturing nature's varied bounties right in your own yard and nearby wilderness areas. And, hopefully, sharing them with the children around you.

No, Andy (with Sally) is talking to those other people you know. You know who I mean. The ones with the large lawns, edged with neat rows of alternating annuals. The ones who live in a universe of gardening pleasures so very far from your own that your light just never seems to reach them -- and vice versa.

Andy's style reaches them. I'm sure of it. He amuses and persuades with so many well aimed points, in a book that is so pithy, so friendly, that is laid out in such a lively and non-confrontational way -- surely anybody with a lawn dependency who reads this book will say, "Huh. Well you know I never really thought about it like that before." And they'll ruminate on the ideas freshly sown in their minds, as they gaze out with changed eyes over that velvety green expanse, while a new way of approaching their gardens germinates quietly but surely...

The people I plan to give this book to are my sister and brother-in-law. Several years ago, they retired to an over 55 community called The Villages. (BTW my sister happens to be a generation or so older than I am.)

The Villages, located in south San Jose CA, is a large gated housing development divided into smaller communities, each one styled a village. It offers people who live there a rich community life with lots of clubs and social activities. They have swimming pools, club houses, restaurants, and golf courses. Golf courses are pretty central to the identity of The Villages. My sister and bro in law particularly enjoy golf and are active on their village's golfing committees. They also enjoy sitting outside with a Coke in the afternoon to watch the deer and the ducks that wander across the expansive green lawn (maintained by The Villages) that stretches from their patio all the way to the lake with its large, sparkling fountain. It is pretty, no doubt.

Here is how The Villages describes its setting on their web site:

1,200 acres of lush landscaping and sparkling lakes set against a picture-perfect background of natural beauty.

Friends, I need not comment to you on the many ironies of that description.

My sister and I love each other dearly, and agree to differ on many things. As my dad and I approached her home on our last visit, I noticed some of the lawn turf near the lake had been replaced by a new, more natural-looking section of landscaping, boulders with mulch and smallish new plantings between. I asked her about it and had to take a step back to avoid the blast of horrified disapproval. "I mean, that's what people come here for," she said, truly stunned and baffled, "The lovely meadows. People love looking out over the lawns, watching the deer and the ducks passing through. Nobody wants to see these ugly boulders. They're not even pretty boulders. They're just ugly. Our property values have depreciated for sure because of this. Nobody wants it, nobody!"

I myself in turn was stunned and baffled how to respond. "I haven't seen it up close," I said, lamely. "I'll have to have a look on my way out." I'm more of a writer than a talker to be honest. (BTW I didn't get a chance to walk around the new landscaping, but next time I visit I'll take their chihuahua for a walk, and will report back to this space.)

Well, now I have a response. I'll give them Andy (with Sally)'s book. Maybe they will even donate it to The Villages's library when they've read it.

If you also want to reach those in your orbit who have not yet received Mother Nature's memo, I highly recommend you give them a copy of The Landscaping Revolution. Right now. There are about 50 copies available as I write, used, on Amazon.com. On Amazon you'll also find later books by Sally (with Andy) Wasowski, which I hope to read soon.

And by the way, there are people at The Villages who got the memo. I met one. I talked with her when I was docenting at Town Mouse's garden during the Going Native garden tour the year before last. She was on a committee researching alternatives to the chemical lawn landscaping approach, most likely the very committee responsible for the xeriscaped area so abhorrent to my sister. "It's a generational thing," she sighed. "People just won't give up their lawns." But good for her - it seems that the group did succeed, or at least got a toe in the door. And as the younger oldsters in my generation start moving in -- and as The Villages company faces ever larger water bills -- the revolution will roll on.

They Put the Fun in Fungi. What Do We Do?

Last Saturday,  like hundreds and hundreds of others, I went to the Santa Cruz Fungus Fair. I began my visit by standing in line for half an hour to get into the lecture by David Arora, author of the great Mushroonms Demystified. The lecture was called "the Wheel of Fungi."

I had time to observe the fungus folk wandering by, including this guy with the enormous fly agaric puffy hat and mushroom shaped dark glasses, shown above.

Not a stiletto heel in sight. (No offence to those who enjoy style, it just isn't for me.)

Instead, a collection of shaggy and  variously tonsured individuals, generally genial. I was feeling generally genial myself, and enjoyed being one with the crowd.

Then I noticed among us more mature individuals, a high proportion of young people. Lively and - well - cool. Hip. Many were actually non-dorky. Waiting happily to attend a lecture about fungus. The line was out the door.

I sat pondering this in the animated audience hubub that lasted several minutes while Mr Arora futzed around at the front of the room getting the computer and mic set up.

"You might wonder what 'The Wheel of Fungi' refers to," he said. "Something like the wheel of life? well no." (I'm paraphrasing btw). "Or some cool fungus identification wheel where you spin things around to help you identify fungus in the field? Not that either. Actually, it's a drinking game."

Lecture is a bit of a misnomer for the eclectic and semi randomized collection of stories and slide shows that Mr Arora showed, as determined by the turn of a wheel of fortune type device that audience members got to spin for prizes.

One story was about a rough and ready mushroom picker, a big guy who swore a lot, but whose enthusiasm capped Arora's expert advice, when it came to convincing some people to try eating a new mushroom. That bugged him. He says when he revises his masterwork, Mushrooms Demystified, he'll use more lively language and not the language of the field guide genre, rather insipid.

Hm. I thought about that. Being lively and engaging. Made me think.

It was all a lot of fun, and none of it was heavy intellectual fare. It put you in the spirit of mushrooming, which I am now wondering comes directly from Mr Arora himself. Zany, enthusiastic, funny, unapologetically weird.

The prior week, I attended a talk at the Santa Cruz chapter of the California Native Plant Society, given by a young mycologist, Christian Schwartz. He was also very enthusiastic and a fun speaker. And very informational (unlike Mr Arora). There were about 30 or so grayhaired people scattered about the room, and maybe five younger folk. Most of the attendees were either on a chapter committee, or live with a committe member.

Dang. More people would have enjoyed this talk. How can we attract more people? Can't we plant people be more hip and funny, too?  Maybe?

I took a quick look over at the Fungus Federation of Santa Cruz web site. ("When it Rains, it Spores.") Hm. What's this on their page: a ministers' meeting?? -- Why, they have  "Ministers" - instead of committee members.  Minister of Propaganda for gosh sake. And they have a fun mission statement in addition to their motto:

We pursue fungi out of hunger, curiosity and addiction. We seek improved access to greener grass, deeper duff and the warmth and security of togetherness...

I mean, basically, it seems, they go on treasure hunts and eat good food. (Not a lot of mention of that other aspect of some mushrooms - their ability to change consciousness!)

What do we native plant folk offer? Well, we mice do our best. Here we are volunteering in the CNPS booth at last year's San Francisco Flower and Garden show, resplendent in our ears (Ms Town on the left and Ms Country on the right):

So I've been revolving ideas. I'm now co-chair of our CNPS chapter's publicity and outreach efforts, though our efforts have not yet actually begun. Except in this post.

Sustainability, ecology, restoration, wildlife, appreciating the mystery of mother nature right here, right now. Gardening. These are interesting but not zany.

OK, let the mushroom folk have zany, we can be something else interesting and engaging especially to the younguns amungus.

I'm thinking about it. Suggestions welcome!

GBBD January 2012, Country Mouse

Like Town Mouse, I too had a lapse of awareness regarding bloom day being upon us, and this morning was busy at the CNPS propagation group, which was lots of fun, potting up rooted cuttings, sowing seeds, and dividing perennials, in the congenial company of gardeners. But I did run around with my camera just before leaving  and here are a few of the native plants blooming today. Not so many, but what are there are nice.

Hummingbird sage (Salvia spathacea) spikes, with seaside daisy (Erigeron glaucus) below.

A currant bush just covered in blooms - Ribes indecorum

Here's the whole bush - photo does not do it justice.

Fuchsia-flowering gooseberry (Ribes speciosum) - hardly any so far this dry year.

Maybe wild indigenous pink flowering currant (Ribes sanguineum) Or naturalized from a garden ribes. I'm not sure. When we first got here there were some ribes like this, but they disappeared, and I've planted different sorts since.

A nursery-bought spreading manzanita, Arctostaphylos 'Winter Glow.' It gets water. The local indigenous ones are starting to bloom too, but I didn't get a snap of them this morning.

Ceanothus 'Joyce Coulter'. The native wartleaf ceanthus is also blooming a little bit, again, sorry, didn't get a snap of it today. It's down by the road.

Amazingly some of the local naked buckwheat (Erioganum nudum) is throwing out some late blooms.

Coffeeberry (Rhamnus californica) is covered in modest blooms, much loved by bees.

Part of the coffeeberry bush. It's an indigenous local that decided to pop up all by itself in a nice spot in our south garden.

Nursery bought Verbena lilacena 'De La Mina' is blooming quite profusely.

And coast sunflower (Encelia californica), a Southern California native, is also perking up with our midwinter summer weather.

This sweet little dudleya is blooming away. The label has faded and I don't remember which one it is. Anybody know? Its surrounded by Indian Lettuce, which grows like a weed here.

Another late bloomer - or early maybe - golden yarrow (Eriophyllum confertiflorum), local native propagated from seed. Oops what has fallen over behind it? I better go check...

Closeup of that golden yarrow blossom. No germination so far of the seeds I sowed in October. I may try again in February.

And that's it, folks. Please do click or just read on to see Town Mouse's bloom day post, and check out all - well, many anyway - of the bloom day posts available courtesy of  Carol at May Dreams Gardens. Happy gardening!

GBBD - The Out Of Focus Edition (TM)

Between breakfast and a trip to the airport, I realized that I'd forgotten it was Garden Bloggers Bloom Day, when Carol at May Dreams Gardens invites us all to look around and appreciate the flowers and other joys our garden brings us. Well, no problem, I'd just pop out, snap out a few photos, and be gone. And indeed, the hummingbird sage (Salvia spatacea) above had been looking tantalizing all week, and I happily snapped away - except it ended up artistically blurred.

Next came the native buckwheat (with the leaves nicely in focus) which has been blooming non-stop since summer. I'm leaving it for the few pollinators that venture out in the current 60+ degrees.

The new Abutilon "Fruit Punch" I bought recently was going to be the big splash of color in this post. Except it just kept moving. Or maybe I was moving? No matter, here it is, a slapstick photography exhibit. 

But there is more. Even without rain for 2 months, the Australian Tea Tree is putting out pretty pink blossoms, visited by hummingbirds every morning.

Turn around from there and you'll see that Arctostaphylos St. Helena, a native manzanita, is blooming for the first time in my garden. I'm very happy with this replacement for a Japanese maple that didn't like the sun in that spot.

Nice focus on the leaves, or was that the stem? Regardless, I had better luck with the yarrow 'Paprika' which, amazingly, still blooms.

Then I turned toward the redwoods for a photo of the Jade plant's blossoms.

And snapped the Hellebore while I was there.

Seeing that it was soon time to leave, I still took the time to look up at the first Camelia (the bushes are by now 10 feet high).

Then I found a second blossom close to the ground and put it on our garden buddha, thinking how happy I am about being here and enjoying the blossoms, the birds, and the hope of some rain next week.

This afternoon I'll go over to Carol and look at what else is going on in the world bloomwise.

And I hope you'll join Ms. Country Mouse and me for the First Views meme in the first week of the month. We show some big views of our gardens (rather than focusing on close-ups of the blooms). We've been finding first views educational, and we'll enjoy seeing what your garden really looks like.

A Whole Branch of Wartleaf Ceanothus, Chopped into Cuttings

Wart leaf ceanothus with blossom

Wartleaf ceanothus,  Ceanothus papillosus, grows here natively. Unlike the tree form of ceanothus that occurs here (Ceanothus thyrsiflorus) it's a shrubby form, somewhat sprawling and angular -and, yes, it has warty leaves that are not too appealing, in a garden way, to be quite honest. But overall, and when it's blooming, it's quite lovely, and quite drought tolerant.

Growing wild along the neighbor fence.

In fact it grows in very poor soil on our chaparral slope and down by the road. It seems OK with sun or part shade. It pops up in the most unpromising spots. But I have so far failed to propagate this shrub. The tree form, Ceanothus thyrsiflorus, yes, from seeds. But this one - I tried cuttings in 2009, no success. I tried seeds. Nada. On Las Pilitas Nursery web site, I read:

This species is difficult in the nursery and in gardens. Not for a beginner. Some years, not for experts. 

 Well, at least I don't feel so all alone.

Anyway I took a notion last weekend, and cut a fairly large branch off one specimen that was growing out into the road. Like a good hunter-gatherer who uses up every bit of an animal, I made cuttings out of every morsel of that branch. I figure I'll try it all. Hardwood cuttings from the base, semi-ripe (which I take to mean not quite hard) cuttings from the thinner, somewhat softer woody bits, and tip cuttings.

I got most of my info about hardwood cuttings from this great book: The American Horticultural Society Plant Propagation. Editor in chief is the wonderfully-named, Alan Toogood. It says you can take hardwood cuttings from late autumn to mid winter. But on the Native Plant Network propagation protocol page for ceanothus in general, it says to take propagate using semi-hard cuttings in May. So if this lot doesn't work, well, that's the thing with propagation - there's generally always another chance. I'll also try from seed again next season. Try, try, try, again!

So, according to the above book, to prepare hardwood cuttings of evergreens, you cut them into sections 8 to 10 inches long. Just below a node at the bottom, just above a node at the top. Strip the leaves off the lower half, and stick them in a large pot (if you're doing just a few). You can also put them directly in the ground. Plant Propagation recommends soil-based rooting medium, defined as follows:

• 2 parts soil
• 1 part peat or peat substitute
• 1 part sand
• To each 8 gallons (36 litres), add 1.5 ounces (42 grams) superphosfate, and 3/4 oz (21 grams) limestone.

This book is not specifically for native plants, so I took the general idea and adapted it. What I did in fact was use about equal parts perlite, potting soil, and native sandy soil. Then I added a bit more soil. And a bit of sand. And a few granules Osmocote. I was aiming to get a fairly well-draining and not too rich mix. Not very scientific, but quite a lot of fun.

To prepare the tip cuttings, I took three- to five-inch cuttings, cutting just below a node, stripped the bottom half of the leaves, trimmed the leaves I left on the top half so they didn't make it too top-heavy, and removed any buds. Then I popped them into a seed flat full of a mix that is mostly perlite with a bit of potting soil and vermiculite.

Also I soaked their ends in a liquid rooting hormone for a bit before putting them in. I did the same to the hardwood cuttings though it didn't say to do that. One day I'll take a class in propagation, and get much more informed about all this, but in the meantime, I'm having fun learning by doing.

Hardwood, semi-hardwood, and tip cuttings of wartleaf ceanothus. Bamboo stakes added round the edge to keep the plastic cover off them.

I put them all on the heating pad set to 85 degrees F, and draped them in plastic. Oops - I read on the Native Plant Network that they use 21 degrees C (70 degrees F)!! -- I just ran out and turned down the thermostat!

Plastic cover keeps them from drying out - but I also don't want to keep them too moist

 I haven't been keeping them totally covered because they are chaparral plants and don't lose moisture from their leaves like softer-leaved plants, and they can get mildew or fungus if they're too damp. But I do have to go to work, so they have to survive all day without spritzing. One of these days, we'll put in a misting system. I'm going to follow the Curbstone Valley folk post on how they went about it.

In the meantime, I recently bought a "mini-greenhouse," which arrived today ready to assemble. It's a set of wire shelves with a zip-up plastic cover. I think it'll be handy for keeping cuttings in so they don't dry out. I plan to assemble it and keep it in the greenhouse.

Hardwood cuttings are supposed to take 6 to 10 weeks to root, according to the book. So I'll keep you posted on their progress or lack thereof in the upcoming month or two.

Using the same general method, I made some other hardwood cuttings a few weeks ago, of California hazel, Corylus cornuta, and rose, Rosa californica, and creeping snowberry, Symphocarpos mollis, all growing natively on our property. They all seem to have rooted nicely and are starting to bud out. I'll write more about those when I take them out of the pot to check out their roots, in a few more weeks.

The nice thing about propagation is that you get to enjoy the pleasure of anticipation every day!

My green mini wall

As a gift from Santa this year, I requested a mini green wall. When I look out the kitchen window, all I see is fence and a green wall seemed like a fun thing to try. I had enjoyed the great information about green walls in the fabulous Garden Up, and said to myself: "How hard can it be?"

The wall I ordered was supposed to include mounting hardware, but to my disappointment the hardware would only be useful on walls and could not be used on a fence or a post. I got help from my garden designer, who used hardware similar to picture hanging hardware to attach to two holes on the side. Unfortunately, it was not possible to attach hardware to the top. My designer also supported the frame with a small piece of wood at the bottom (see above).

I then filled the box with a mix I made from potting soil, sand, and lava rock. I was planning on succulents for the green wall, and the individual compartments do not drain, so I wanted a mix that would dry out quickly.

Next came the fun part: From my own garden and from volunteering at the Arizona Garden at Stanford I had collected a decent amount of succulents, some in temporary little pots, some still hardening.

I collected all the plants and stuck them in the box. I kept the box in a fairly vertical position, both to see the design and to see how the plants would do. I grouped similar colors and shapes. The initial design was a heart made of little rosette-shape succulents, but the colors I had available were too similar to make this stand out. Going forward, I'll work on collecting contrasting colors.

As I was standing at the potting bench, I was quite pleased. Only time would tell whether the succulents would survive - I was quite concerned about drainage - but I liked the combination of colors and textures.

Then, I went over to the wall across from the kitchen window to hang the piece. Now, I know we all love success stories, but I'm sorry to admit that because of a very slight outward angle at the top - maybe 1/4 inch - many of the little plants at the top fell out of their little compartment and tumbled to the ground. I had to return the box to a place where it is angled backward just a bit, and stick in the plants again. Now I'm hoping that in a few months they will have rooted enough to allow me to actually hang the thing. An alternative would be to angle the box from the bottom, but that would mean a larger supporting block and an extra block to create the angle.

I'll let you know in a few months how it all comes out. Meanwhile, I'm thinking about making something myself from fabric remnants - I mean, how hard can it be?

(Yeah, I said that before. Well, no matter, it's fun to try).