sprig to twig

There’s nothing like a snowfall to bring out the photogenic side of a garden that was beginning to slip into a dowdy phase. The seed heads of Phlomus russeliana are always fetching, but they take on an especially jaunty air with caps of snow.

So cute, in fact, that I couldn’t stop at just one photo.

I featured Poncirus trifoliata ‘Flying Dragon’ in the last post, but its quirky tracery of twisted branches really shows up against the snow.

It has been so cold that the snow is dry and light. I can just enjoy the way it nestles into the ‘Thunderhead’ pine instead of worrying about it weighing down the branches.

The NOID Yucca from Ryan seems to be sailing through the cold snap.

It was a mere two inches of snow: not enough to even out the surface where it fell on rough grass. It almost looks like clouds as seen from above.

The bottle garden pretty much disappears during the high season, but here it catches the light and is set off by just the snow and an autumn fern.

Even my silly little cairns acquire an aura of mystery when partly hidden by snow.

This is about as far along as the blooming trusses of Mahonia ‘Arthur Menzies’ have ever progressed before being blackened by a freeze.

This year we had plenty of warning, so I wrapped the trusses in bubble wrap, covered with a plastic bag and secured with a rubber band. I read somewhere that bubble wrap is not a good insulator for pots. Any thoughts on that?

Time will tell, but at least I tried. I sure would like to see this thing in full bloom some day.

A few things got the overturned pot treatment and many potted plants are clustered on the deck. As cold as it is, these precautions may be entirely inadequate.

The bird feeders got filled. The birds got so excited once the snow arrived that I had to refill a couple of times a day.

Some suet for good measure.

The sun moves in such a low arc that taking pictures at mid-day is almost like late afternoon. Love that winter light.

Now that the leaves have all fallen, the twists and turns are fully visible. Here’s what Gossler Farms has to say about it on the Plant Lust site:

The hardy citrus is a wickedly thorned plant. The thorns are 2″ long and are unusual all year. P. trifoliata ‘Flying Dragon’ is contorted all over- leaves, thorns and stems. We have seen 5′-6′ irregular shrubs and they are always show stoppers. P. trifoliata ‘Flying Dragon’ is hardy to -20 °F so will be interesting from New York to California.

The display specimen at the HPSO booth was more of a full-grown tree and the thorns were the full 2″ and curved like talons. Mine has a few noticeable thorns, but none quite that impressive. I still have high hopes.

When fully leafed out, closer inspection is needed to appreciate its distinctive traits. Let’s look at it through the seasons:

All leading up to the bare beauty that presides over winter’s garden. I failed to chronicle its blooming season, but I think you can see why it is a favorite in any of its costumes. Check out Danger Garden for more favorites of the week.

It started out small, but now is huge…almost frighteningly so, when it comes time to move it inside for the winter.

But even R (who fears a takeover) has been won over by the velvety leaves (at their best when just emerging, like these).

In an effort to tame the beast, I cut the secondary stem back a bit. As you can see, it is recovering nicely and looks like it may even branch out from the cut.

Encouraged by the ease with which I have propagated other Kalanchloes, I put the cutting in a pot on the windowsill.

It, too, is putting on new growth.

This plant bore the same name, Kalanchloe beharensis, on its label, but the form is quite different. Anybody know what the deal is there? The undersides of those leaves are quite warty. I bought one out of curiosity and put it in the same pot with the smooth-leaved one. It’s not looking terribly happy…maybe suffering from an inferiority complex.

I really love the strange, linear form with a few little poufs of leaves taken by this Kalanchloe fedtshenkoi. I have started and given away many cuttings from this plant and each one seems to take on a personality of its own.

Nicknamed ‘Paddle Plant’ or ‘Pancake Plant’, Kalanchloe thyrsiflora is just limping along. Mites love it and I have a hard time keeping ahead of them with soap spray.

Not so Kalanchloe orgyatum. This plant is another that has parented many starts. The new plants have a freshness that daddy lacks, with a reddish underside to the plump leaves. I guess I’ve never met a Kalanchloe I didn’t like, but the first one featured here gets my stamp of approval and ‘Favorite’ status, jumping on Danger Garden’s weekly favorite bandwagon.

A few stragglers remain out there, but nothing much worth sharing.

Move inside and it’s a different story. A friend visited the other day and brought me this spectacular Cymbidium orchid.

A little closer view shows the red markings in the throat of each blossom…and Look! there’s another stalk in bud and yet another just poking out at the bottom of the plant. So…months of beauty ahead.

Speaking of long-lasting: These zinnias were brought in on Nov. 28 and are only now beginning to fade.

Doing its biannual blooming routine is Aloe ‘Carmine’.

All is not doom and gloom outside. I finally get to see what the bloom on Kniphofia multiflora looks like. Isn’t it impressive?

Like other knifs, it begins at the bottom and blooms upward, but the individual blossoms are tight to the stalk, giving it the look of an ombred wand.

The good old one-stop shopping center had lots of mums and kale, but also many lush looking cyclamen at bargain prices. I couldn’t resist refreshing a few porch pots.

Just to prove I wasn’t really being snide about the kale (I’m sure mums have their place too) I bought one to put in a red pot (I know, it looks orange here…and the kale is much purpler). That’s it for November. More will be found at May Dreams Gardens.

The first clue that this party would be something special was the invitation.

Going all out does not necessarily mean filling the front yard with blow-up spiders and witches.

I took these shots the next day. Arriving in the dark, the skeletons on those bags glowed from the candles within.

Each nook and cranny had spooky/elegant vignettes, here augmented by a discarded beard.

See what I mean? Intricate skulls found their way onto pillows, hand towels and a few other places.

This was the shower curtain. When I washed my hands, the soap was a glow-in-the-dark skull.

This was really more of a ‘Day of the Dead’ party, so there were altars to those who have passed.

With the stage set so dramatically, you can be sure the guests got into the spirit. There were 29 women and one very brave man in attendance.

Susan joked that Ellie often comes dressed for a different party, but her imaginative costumes take the prize anyway.

Even the dogs got into the act.

Our hostess, Susan, with a drink called a skull crusher in one hand and a bottle of pink bubbly in the other. No she was not a two fisted drinker, but making sure that all of her guests were well supplied.

I’ll bow to the gardening focus of this blog by bowing out with some sculptures that Susan has assembled from rusty parts. I hope you had a shriekingly good time on Halloween, or the Day of the Dead. I sure did. Thanks, Susan.

Everything still in clay pots made it onto the front deck so that the pots will live to see another season. Also in there are a few things in glazed pots that can stand the cold, but not the wet.

A few things, like Picea pungens ‘Fat Albert’ made it into the ground, where poor Al looks a little lost and forlorn. He is destined to grow big, though…

so I envision him one day standing out against the dark background of the cedar trees in all his silvery glory, much like the golden Cryptomeria japonica ‘Sekkan Sugi’, planted in ‘04.

I picked all of the dahlias that were in bloom, anticipating that they would turn to mush in the freeze.

Not so. These happy new blooms seem little worse for the cold temps.

I picked all of the Zinnias too. The remaining stems may not make it all the way to new blooms, but we shall see. In the meantime, our house is looking pretty festive.

Not much continuity here, though, with summery dahlias and zinnias in one part of the house and the fall arrangement of Chasmantium latiflorium and dried ‘Limelight’ Hydrangeas with a few squashes in another.

Richard gets a little panicky when I start moving plants indoor, fearing that it will get claustrophobic.

So I left a few things out, incorporated others into existing pots and tucked things into corners here and there. We’re both happy with the results. I hope the plants will be.

Wandering around to assess what Jack Frost had wrought, I spotted one lonely little muhly bloom (if you look closely, you can see it against the dark background provided by Sami…she’s an unusually accommodating cat, um, occasionally).

It’s not even on the healthiest looking of the three plants I got from Scott of Rhone Street Gardens. I think I can expect a stunning display this time next year.

Once again, the Kniphofia multiflora is racing against time.

All of those little buds seem unfazed, so perhaps this year it will make it.

I love the way the tip of the blooming stalk curls over and almost echoes the silhouette of the weeping Sequioia behind it.

Strange things are happening out by the compost bins. I’ll close with a plea to all of you knowledgeable observers of nature. Can anyone tell me what this is? I’m pretty sure we shouldn’t try to eat it.

I just spent some time looking through a grab bag of photos. It’s a good time to take stock of what worked, what didn’t and what to do about it. As our friends across the pond might say, “jiggering”.

It’s hard to know what to expect when growing something new from seed. The dainty ‘Buddha’s Hand’ Cosmos are not the desired orange, but more golden.

They peek coquettishly through the base of Leonotis, also grown from seed. The Lion’s Tail grew to mammoth proportions, making it a poor choice for placement towards the front of this new bed.

It played nicely with the bronze fennel, but eclipsed the ‘Pretty Woman’ trying to assert herself at the bottom of the photo.

When the rains came, they flopped, squashing all of those little cosmos. This bed is in for a major overhaul come spring. Most of the offenders are annuals, so no big deal. I chalk it up to “live and learn’.

Another annual from seed, Nicotiana langsdorfii, performed admirably. It’s one of those see-through plants, with dangling acid-green flowers rising sporadically on tall stems from ground-level rosettes…and it doesn’t try to upstage ‘Pretty Woman’.

Nor does it obscure Phygelius ‘Devil’s Tears’ at the back of the bed.

A couple of the ‘Lion’s Tails’ placed in a sunnier location with less water grew to only three feet. Next year, I think I’ll try them along the fence line, where the conditions split the difference. I like them enough to keep trying.

Back in July, the dry berm was being invaded by these annoying grasses.

With the help of my trusty screwdriver, I dug deep to remove the roots (well on their way to reaching for China). Now the grasses are back. Maybe not as plentiful as before, but unless I do something they are sure to reestablish their foothold.
When I started this berm, I laid down thick layers of newspaper to smother the grass before piling on the soil mix. I loathe the idea of dismantling and starting from scratch, but a lifelong career of digging out grass roots is not too appealing either. Any suggestions?

All roots are not created equal. The foliage of Persicaria ‘Purple Shield’ makes a wonderful filler for bouquets, all the while sprouting roots like crazy. Voila! More little purple shields coming up. Same story with the coleus to the right, but I’ll just replace those with new ones next year.

The most interesting feature of Heuchera ‘Sashay’ is the reddish color on the undersides of its leaves. Tucked away in the ground, who knew?

No elevated walls around here to show it off to advantage, but a hanging pot is the next best thing. Once it recovers from transplant shock, I expect a nice glow from those leaves.

Gooseneck loosestrife is famous for going crazy when it is happy, so I put a clump of it where it would get neither the shade nor abundant water it craves. True, it resists running amok, but it also comes off as somewhat anemic.

By contrast, in the woodland, the foliage is lush and deep green, showing off those cute little goose heads which I adore. Sometimes a little extra effort to keep things in bounds is well worth it.

My monkey puzzle tree started out as a mere twig. It is finally beginning to put on significant growth. At Cistus, they have several, and I was taken with the dense plantings crowding around them. Not crowding this close though. Come spring, I’m going to need to find a new spot for that wonderful Euphorbia ‘Fire Charm’. How about you? What needs tweaking now that the season is drawing to a close?

Any new plant has got to be the favorite for at least a week, right?

When I stopped by Means just to wander around, Viburnum plicatum tomentosum ‘Pink Beauty’ called out to me from afar. There were lots of shrubs sporting fiery foliage, but the deeply pleated leaves in deep red-to-almost-purple, with lighter undersides, drew me with their comparative subtlety. Seen from any angle, they give me a jolt of happiness.

I’m trying to introduce more color along ‘Delusional Drive’.

Of course this particular moment of glory will be fleeting. I knocked off a quantity of leaves during planting and more will fall of their own accord in the coming days. Here’s what I have to look forward to in other seasons, according to the plant tag. Rounded, deciduous shrub with tiered, horizontal branches. Leaves mature to dark green and change to reddish purple in fall. Large, showy pink flowers in spring. Beautiful in bloom. Deep, infrequent watering. Little to no pruning required. Part sun to shade. Average mature size 6′ x 6′. Cold hardiness to -10?. From the photo on the tag, it looks like the flowers are tubular and dangling, rather that the flat white flower heads of most doublefile Viburnums (no indication if there is a scent).

Who cares, really? This is what I got it for and this is what I will look forward to each Autumn. We need as many reasons as possible to celebrate this season. Spring will take care of itself. Want to see what’s favored in the Danger Garden this week? While you’re there, don’t forget to check the comments for links to other favorites.

I’m not much of a morning person, but when I looked out the kitchen window this morning, I had no choice but to get out there. We are surrounded by cedar trees that throw long shadows with the sun breaking through to spotlight the Poncirus trifoliata behind the bird bath and the tree peonie ‘Gold Sovereign’ off to the right.

Here’s a closer look at ‘Gold Sovereign’, still sparkling with morning dew.

And the ‘Flying Dragon’, having dropped just enough leaves to begin baring his claws.

Still trying to decide where to place ‘Fat Albert’, knowing he will grow to gigantic proportions eventually.

Hydrangea ‘Limelight’ goes from greenish to pure white before the many shades of dusky rose take over in the final act.

The play of light and shadow does wonders for Stachys ‘Helen Von Stein’.

Rock, dark hemlock mulch and the wiry stems of Ceanothus ‘Blue Jeans’ provide lots of textural framework for another clump of Helen.

Please forgive the preoccupation with Helen, but this was as close as I could come to capturing the sparkle of the dew on her silvery foliage.

Where would we be without serendipity? The maple leaf blew in to turn this simple composition into something special. I hope I can find more of the caramel sedge in the foreground…lots more.

No morning stroll could be complete without a visit to the woodland out back, where everything is left to nature. Uhoh, this early morning stuff threatens to become habit forming. Thanks for coming along.

I guess this is some form of Japanese maple, picked up for a pittance. In its youth, it flamed out with beautiful color. Not so much last year, so I will be curious to see what happens as temperatures drop. In the meantime, I’m enjoying the lacy leaf shapes on bright red stems.

Another younger maple with similar origins is coloring up nicely. You can see why I hope that it will not become more blasé with age.

Unlike so many leaves that deepen and darken, the Cotinus ‘Purple Robe’ lightens from its inky purple summer attire to coppery tones now.

Looking at the shapely, colorful foliage on the Spindle Tree (Euonymus sachalinensis), I can’t really fault it for failing to produce the dangling fruits which I formerly viewed as its reason for being.

A crape myrtle earns its keep with this display.

Oakleaf Hydrangea

While the black mondo grass (Ophiopogon planiscapes ‘Nigrescens’) changes color not one whit (and who would ask it to?), it does produce pearlescent berries to add to the fun.

Speaking of berries, it would be hard to top the aptly named Beautyberry (Calicarpa bodinieri ‘Profusion’).

Or Berberis thunbergii purpurea, wearing its berries like jewels on opera night.

Pluck one of these berries, pop it in your mouth and see why Gaultheria procumbens is called Wintergreen. I often buy these for porch pots during the holidays. They make good ground cover, so I never have too many of them.

Seedheads left behind when the Crocosmias stop flowering make startling bouquets indoors or out.

Each of the little burry balls on the Castor Bean Plant holds three seeds, ensuring that this favorite will show up somewhere in the garden next year.

Unlike everything else in this post, Yucca ‘Bright Edge’ makes no concessions to changing seasons. That’s OK. I am perfectly satisfied by its perseverance, maintaining its spiky splendor whatever the weather throws at it.

See what Pam has up her sleeve for this October edition of Foliage Follow Up.