Looking again

I've been less than enthused about my garden for the past several months for various reasons, some too tedious to go into and some obvious, like the heat that's continued — as I know it will every year and yet still begrudge — into October.

Much of the garden just looks tired, not unusual for this time of year, and the rest looks unkempt or worse. Then there are those parts I'm just tired of: plants that failed in some way to earn their keep or outgrew their spaces, plants I've failed to take care of and whose unattractive state only reminds me of work undone. I had gotten to a point where all I noticed were the problems (that and the spider webs).

Then an offhand comment made me look at the garden with fresh eyes.

A friend was visiting and walked out into the upstairs garden. She looked around for a minute and, just as I was about to open my mouth to make excuses for the sorry state of things, she said, "Oh, your garden looks so lovely." I resisted the automatic denial that is always so easy for me and, after she left, came out and looked around again. I still saw the problems but I also saw things I liked.

This area by the upstairs porch is, despite the problems I also see (but about which I'll keep my mouth shut for now), the bit that caught my eye that day. Not a lot blooming (you can't see the sparks of blue from the sporadically blooming salvia guaranitica in the picture) but I like the forms of the succulents contrasting with each other and with the leafier plants behind. And the fading blooms of the salvia leucantha in the background are still worth looking at, even as the plant sprawls every which way.



And a couple of days later I stopped to look at the far back bed, which from a distance is a tangle of overgrown and underwatered plants. Up close though I saw a combination of colors and textures that I hadn't noticed from a distance: the yellow tubular shapes of the tecoma stans and the smaller orange trumpets of hamelia patens, intertwined with the vivid aubergine straps of purple heart.


When I went to download these images I noticed this picture of pavonia flowers (and that sweetly pillowed bud, or is that a flower just closing up for the day?) that I took a month or so ago but never found a reason to post. The pavonia has stopped blooming for this year but maybe I'll remember to look more closely when it starts blooming again next spring.

Report from the jungle

I just logged on and saw that I haven't posted since the middle of June. I missed July and August's Garden Blogger Bloom Days and, looking out at the garden, it looks like the blog is not the only thing that's been missing some attention.

No excuses really but some explanation: We returned from a three-week trip late Tuesday and much of the month or so prior to the departure was consumed with trip planning and preparation as well as finishing up other (paying) work. So both the blog and the garden were ignored.

We returned from our tour of Germany and the Czech Republic to find the Bermuda grass in the back yard an astonishing three feet tall. That was all I could take in at first but once D. hacked the grass back I could see that in three weeks the garden had gone out of control. Really, truly out of control. Apparently the unusual rains of May, June, and July continued through much of our absence and my failure to cut things back before we left resulted in a mad tangle of foliage.

Yesterday and today I've been trying to make a dent in the mess — pulling out masses of purple heart that has consumed whole areas of the long bed, removing enormous quantities of weeds and encroaching Bermuda grass and a few plants that died, either from too much rain or too much competition from overgrowth surrounding them (the mallow plant in the back bed died before we left and I found that all three of the salvia nemarosas that I planted behind the new agave at the corner of the long bed had also died, shaded out or smothered by the shocking growth of the bamboo muhly behind them).

The rains have continued, starting this morning and continuing on and off all day. The forecast predicts more rain over the next few days (the result of a tropical storm that came ashore in south Texas this morning). More rain, more growth, I suppose.

Right now I look at the garden and I'm not quite sure what to do. My impulse is to rip some things up (the volunteer chile pequin's time has come, I think: It's the size of an overstuffed arm chair, much too large for the place it claimed for itself) and cut most everything else in half. I just want to restore some kind of order, give myself and the plants some breathing space.

Updating the workings

I finally decided to update to the new layouts version of Blogger. I'd been avoiding the upgrade out of some sense that everything would disappear or that I'd have to go back in and recreate all my links but this morning I took the plunge and all looks well.

I added a way to access the post labels and changed the way the archives are displayed but other than that it all looks about the same.

Here's a look at my current favorite garden combination: the sprawling winecups, whose vine-like stems have reached out three or four feet in every direction and the California poppies that were planted so late but, with this continued cool weather, have continued to bloom.



And can I just exclaim one more time about this weather: I was in Dallas from Wednesday through Saturday and it was so lovely and cool up there. I assumed the coolness must be limited to north Texas but when I got back I found it almost as cool in Austin.

Right now the whole family (except me, in here typing away) is sitting out on the back porch, reading. A rare sight any time, but especially in the last days of May.

Spring showers etc.

A winecup in this morning's soft rain


The garden came through Wednesday night's wild thunderstorms mostly unscathed, although the Old Blush rose suffered some minor injuries from a medium-sized branch that plummeted from a great height out of the neighbor's pecan tree. Fortunately it landed tip down and stabbed straight through the rose bush without inflicting serious damage. Those pecan trees, with their long, supple branches, both frighten and fascinate me in high winds. I watch them from the new porch or through the sitting room windows and their branches twist and turn in a thunderstorm as if a giant, invisible eggbeater was churning through them. In addition to the one pecan branch in our back yard, branches were down all over the neighborhood. No whole trees uprooted as a result of this most recent storm, though, at least none I saw.

The last couple of weeks of April and now the first few days of May have been remarkably wet and, until recently, cool. According to the National Weather Service we had at least a trace of rain on 15 out of 30 days in April (16 at the weather station at Bergstrom, which is closest to us, and 14 at the station at Camp Mabry). And we've already had nearly an inch and a half of rain in the first three days of May! But the temperatures have been rising these last couple of days and soon enough it will truly be summer.

With the roses mostly past their first flush of bloom, the garden has changed in the last two weeks. Maggie is still covered in blooms but Old Blush and Climbing Pinkie are resting. I expect them both to bloom again unless it gets too hot in the next few weeks. The new Cecille Brunner in a pot is covered in a new round of buds but that may be because it's so recently planted (or maybe it just blooms later; I guess I won't know until next year).

This week my new winecups (Callirhoe involucrata) started blooming. I'm quite pleased to have winecups back in the garden, even if they are the creeping rather than the standing variety (the kind I've had before, with the same flowers but held up on long rigid upright stems instead of on viney stems, is Callirhoe digitata). I'm liking the way they look in front of the agave parryii. That magenta is one of my favorite garden colors.


Also starting to bloom are the cleome, the dark blue plumbago, and the zexmenia. Even the sadly mistreated California poppies have produced a few flowers. The transplanted Pride of Barbados (Caesalpinia pulcherrima) seems to have fully recovered from the shock of being moved and is sending out new leaves at a fast clip (so much for the idea that PoBs are impossible to move; I've got several other seedlings that I may try to move in the fall). Although the various Salvia greggiis are past their first big bloom cycle, the Salvia guaranitica "Black and Blue" is about to bloom as is the Salvia "Anthony Parker" (strangely, since it's usually a fall bloomer; the two Mexican bush sages (Salvia leucantha), also fall bloomers, are sending up a few bloom stalks as well). All three of the cedar sages (Salvia roemariana), the transplanted one and the two new ones, are covered in blooms. And I discovered one large and two or three small seedlings behind the globe mallow. I'll move them as soon as the ground dries out a bit.

Finally, the orchid tree buds

Here is a close-up of buds on the anacacho orchid tree (Bauhinia congesta). I think they look like little clusters of green bananas. The tree is still covered in blooms and buds, although I think it's probably past the absolute peak of its bloom. Last week, while D and I were out walking the dog, we saw a huge orchid tree absolutely loaded down with flowers in the back yard of a house in the next block. Its trunk was quite a bit bigger around than our tree (although it was not much taller) so maybe we have that to look forward to in a few years.

We seem to be past the weirdly chilly weather of last weekend (at least the chill seems vanquished this afternoon, with temperatures in my backyard near 80). Although I'm fairly certain that the temperature here didn't get below freezing, it did get down to 35 or even 34. The leaves of the bat face cuphea purpled up a bit although the plant looks fine but some coleus in the front planter look a bit worse for the wear. I didn't realize coleus was so cold tender but I guess it makes sense. The smaller plants dropped a number of their leaves and leaves on the others look shriveled and brownish. I guess I'll wait and see if they recover.

I've been patrolling the garden with extra vigilence the last few days, looking for signs of decline or disease. Usually every year before our big party at least one part of the garden develops some kind of funk. Some plant spontaneously dies overnight or insects attack and chew a whole section to pieces. So far nothing horrible has happened this year although powdery mildew has taken hold of the Old Blush rose, shriveling its new foliage and damaging some of its buds (and it looked so lovely just a few days ago, I wail). Climbing Pinkie shows some signs of mildew as well although nothing as bad as Old Blush and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that my application of a solution of baking soda, water and dish washing soap (the recipe found on the Natural Gardener's website) will keep it in check until it bursts into a riot of flowers as it looks set to do any day.

And the annual infestation of what I have tentatively identified as Colorado potato beetles has started. A year or two ago I took some leaves covered with little brown spots to Barton Spring Nursery and was told they were the mark of the Colorado potato beetle. I finally saw some of the bugs (they hang out on the under side of the leaves and are remarkably fast) and compared them to pictures online and they look similar although not exactly the same.

Whatever they are, the little reddish black bugs attack only certain plants and mostly just disfigure them. Unfortunately one of the main targets are the salvias, of which I have a large number. They also love the bush germander, which is where I first noticed the damage this year. I spray with some kind of environmentally friendly insecticidal soap, which knocks them back but not out. But mark my words, I have my eye on you, bugs.

Dodging the shards

Life returned to something like normal this morning after two days of suspended animation. School was delayed by two hours, which meant we didn't have to get up until an oh-so-civilized 8 a.m. instead of our usual 6. I could get used to that.

By 9, huge chunks of ice were cascading from the magnolia tree. I kept stepping outside to make sure that the crashing sounds were only ice and not more limbs falling. As far as we can tell only a few small branches, in addition to the one big one that snapped off yesterday, are actually broken. The bigger limbs are still hanging low in spots but that seems to be more about the water still on the leaves than any damage. The tree looks much like it usually does after a heavy rain (except for the shards of ice piled underneath. A truly amazing amount of ice. Each leaf was coated and each piece fell, sometimes one or two at a time and other times one piece from the top starting an avalanche).

The orchid tree and the roses seem to have rebounded although Old Blush got pushed down and in on itself and is now tangled and leaning. I think once it dries out a bit and I can get in there and untangle the canes, it will be mostly back to its old self. It probably needed to be pruned anyway.

A number of things that hadn't frozen back will need to be cleaned up: the Mexican flame vine, the purple heart, zexmenia, purple fountain grass, and the Pride of Barbados and hamelia. It's supposed to rain for the entire next week so it may be a while before I get out there with my loppers.

I was sure this freeze would be the end of the big agave americana near the front door. Last year, in temperatures in the mid 20s, even covered it suffered considerable damage. We thought about replacing it but by mid-summer last year we hadn't gotten around to it and it had put out enough new fronds to look presentable again. On Sunday or Monday when I was bringing plants inside and covering things I didn't do anything about the agave. And, as far as I can tell, it's mostly okay. Maybe the thick coating of ice protected it? Or maybe the temperatures just never got low enough to damage it?

On ice

We're near the end of our second day housebound because of the ice storm of 2007 (that should be in all caps with theme music, I think). Yesterday, we made it out of the house for some grocery shopping and a trip to get the expansion pack of World of Warcraft — but Mom, it comes out today and we do have the day off from school. The street doesn't really look icy, does it? — before the snow and sleet started to fall again mid-morning.

The garden — and everything else — is coated with ice at least a half inch thick. It's beautiful and strange.

We lost one large limb of the big magnolia in the front yard this morning. We were sitting in the living room chatting when this huge boom sounded from somewhere outdoors. I don't know why I hadn't thought about any of our trees losing limbs but somehow it hadn't occurred to me. We went out just to take a look around and there was a limb, probably eight inches in diameter, lying propped against our neighbor's house. Fortunately, it not only didn't damage their house but also seemed to have spared the mountain laurel that it grazed on the way down. So far that's the only limb that's obviously broken, at least on our property. A tree in our neighbor-on-the-other-side's yard split and half landed on our roof, again apparently doing no real damage although we'll have to get up on the roof to see if any shingles were scraped off. We called a tree guy this afternoon and, surprisingly, he said he could come out tomorrow and get it taken down and maybe do something about the ragged break in the magnolia as well.

The orchid tree in the backyard is bent nearly to the ground as is the Old Blush and Maggie roses. I'm worried about breakage in both of them although I think they'll survive the cold just fine. The coldest it's actually gotten here is about 28 but mostly it's stayed around 30 so I don't think much of anything will be lost because of cold (okay, I'm hoping since this is the most protracted cold spell we've had in a long, long while; who knows about some of the newer plants).

I tried to shake some of the ice off the orchid tree but the cracking sounds scared me. I couldn't tell if it was ice cracking or the tree itself so I gave it up and came back indoors. The orchid tree still had almost all its leaves (as, of course, did the magnolia and the roses) so they're in the worst shape with ice all over not only the branches but the leaves as well.

Not gone forever

I haven't posted since Halloween. Every day I walk out into the garden and think, I'll go in there and write something. Just a few words. And then I get back into my office and get sucked into something else and don't do it. I think one reason I haven't been posting is that I feel like I must have a picture (I look at Pam's postings, with their beautiful images and feel even more intimidated). But getting the camera out is just one more thing and sometimes its one thing too many.

So, no picture today. Just words.

After the freezes of the past few weeks, the garden is in a crispy, limp place, at least most of it. The two hamelias were the first to feel the cold, the outer layers of foliage going a reddish brown and then, with even colder weather, actually crisping up and falling. Same with the yellow bells, the purple heart, the Mexican flame vine, and the Pride of Barbados. All semi-frozen but not down to the ground. I need to get in and whack things back but I'm always wary at this point of more of this 75, 80 degree weather that just encourages everything to send up new growth. Maybe I'll wait a bit.

All three roses made it through the freezes with no damage. All three were covered in buds before the first freeze and I was sure I would lose all those flowers but so far they're blooming away. Maggie is much happier with the various things — hypericum, flame vine, salvia leucantha — trimmed away. The flowers are as fabulous, both in looks and scent, as I remembered. Old Blush has been covered in blooms. I was out this morning examining it, trying to decide whether to prune back the stalks where the petals have fallen. Again the question of encouraging new growth. Hmmm . . .

Speaking of the hypericum, it's coming back with a vengence. I chopped it all the way to the ground and it's sending up new growth from every bare stalk. One tough plant. I think I'll dig it up and move it. If it's that tough even my manhandling style of transplanting probably won't kill it.

I brought all the succulents in, either to the screened porch or to my office, before the first freeze. Now I can't decide whether to move them back or leave them inside. Some of them are unwieldy but others look a little sad indoors. Sure as anything, the day I move them out another cold front will swoop down. The perils of Austin gardening.

I did leave the manfreda Macho Mocha outside in its pot, which was just too big to move. I covered it with a sheet and it's doing just fine. We covered the big agave Americana in the front with a couple of sheets too. Last winter it sustained serious damage, even covered. My theory was that it's reaching the end of its life (the mother plant, anyway) and was therefore more fragile. But so far this year it's fine. Maybe it was just colder last year.

Enjoying the breeze

I've been sitting out on the porch, watching the limber branches of the pecan trees to the north of us swirl in the shifting breeze. I got up the energy to water the three roses deeply (okay, I just stuck the end of the hose at the base of each one for twenty minutes or so while I contemplated) but I still haven't figured out what to do with the purple fountain grass or the plumbago that I bought a couple of weeks ago. I did get the manfreda "Macho Mocha" into a pot last week and I'm quite excited that it seems to be developing its characteristics purple spots. I'll post a pic (once it actually does something you can see in a picture and once I get the camera back in action; I was just making some progress figuring out some of its more advanced features and I ran out of battery power).

The salvia "Anthony Parker" is starting to bloom and the salvia guarantica "Black and Blue" in the pot that I chopped back severely a few weeks ago is springing back to life, although there are no signs of any buds yet. The salvia nemarosa under the Old Blush rose has perked back up (it kind of hibernates during the summer) and one of the plants has sent up a bloom stalk. The yellow bells is still blooming wildly and so are the raspberry salvia greggiis the pavonia and the Mexican bush sage, both hamelias, the globe mallow and the zexmenia. The berries on the volunteer chile pequin are turning red.

The Old Blush is also blooming but the blooms are little wimpy things. I have no idea whether its stunted by the heat of last month or whether there's something else I need to do to it. When the camera gets fixed I'll post some pictures and maybe someone will have some ideas. Feed it more often? Water more regularly? The plant itself looks good and its sending up a lot of new growth in this cooler weather but the blooms are still so small.

Now that the upstairs yard is so much the center of my attention everything else has been languishing. I need to think about the downstairs yard and the front bed. And we've been talking about getting rid of a lot of the grass in the front yard (mostly dead anyway) and converting it to some kind of other planting. I'm still afraid of the return of hot weather so maybe I'll give it a few more weeks before I try digging things up and moving them. I'll just sit and contemplate for a bit longer.

A glorious day

The temperature this morning was 66 degrees. Can I say that again? 66 degrees. And now, at 3:30 the temperature is still in the mid 80s. Certainly it will be hot again before we can count on more than one of these days at a time but just the hint is enough to tide me over for another few weeks or even a month (more than a month and I'm getting cranky again).