sprig to twig

Every Sunday at one pm, the folks at Joy Creek put on an educational seminar. They always sound interesting, but tearing oneself away from gardening at home on a Sunday afternoon is a big order. Last Sunday, the subject was pruning. That got our attention. We have a running controversy around here. On one side is the liberal lopper, on the other, one dedicated to chaos theory (that would be me, as if you hadn’t guessed). I figured if I could drag Richard to this seminar, I would get some help in taming the rampaging beast. I figured wrong.

After a short introduction, during which it was impressed upon us the importance of caring for our tools (I was already behind the eight ball with that one, how about you?), we decamped to a Japanese maple. It looked quite beautiful to me…kind of an umbrella effect with a complete lacework canopy of branchlets. The picture above was taken about two thirds of the way through the process. It was brutal. It was, however, highly informative, as we were taken through the complete process, with our guide thinking out loud and conveying his strategy for each and every cut. First, he cut out all the dead wood. With that out of the way, it became easier to see the structure. Where branches rubbed against one another, decisions had to be made: which one would go? Sometimes the choice was surprising, until we learned of how it fit into the overall vision for the tree. In the end, the volume was taken back by about half. I began to see it less as butchery and more as a slow and careful artistic endeavor: the sculptor revealing the essence of the artwork. This particular tree is valued at around $3000.00 (insert Antiques Roadshow-ish gasp of disbelief here)

We had spent nearly an hour on the maple, so the rest of the session consisted of a walk around the grounds with questions and answers. A memorable stop along the route was this juniper, left to its own devices.

And its once identical twin after a haircut. The tonsured twin is less likely to lose limbs in extreme weather, and clean cuts have replaced any damaged areas where disease would be likely to gain a foothold. This guy has a windswept, coastal persona that is appealing, but I am still partial to his shaggier sibling (just a matter of taste: Jeff Bridges over Alec Baldwin any time).

I guess there will still be the push-pull of different perspectives in our garden. I may have lost all credibility in my quest for the “natural” look, but I can hardly complain. Most of our property is untouched deep woods. Tomorrow I will take you on another walk on the wild side.

Learning to live with, and even appreciate, the thuggish plants in the garden is sometimes merely a matter of shifting focus. Let me illustrate by telling you a little story about an unassuming, shy plant that surreptitiously overran the garden and then seduced the gardener.

Moving into a different house, most will agree, can be a daunting task. More so, if the house is a remodeling project in a borderline area (it would be a stretch to call it a “neighborhood”, surrounded as it was by warehouses and freeways). In my first act of gardening, I brought home a shovelful of common violets (Viola odorata) from my mom’s and slipped them into an unobtrusive spot by the front porch. Truth be known, all spots were pretty unobtrusive at the time, but that’s another story. My intent was fuzzy, just some knee-jerk reaction to a nesting instinct. My ignorance was vast. I had never heard of such a thing as an invasive plant. Over time, more and more of the rubble-strewn lot gave way to cultivation. At weeding time, I would find errant violets popping up in each and every bed, duly yanking them out and casting them aside with some annoyance. The violets had other ideas. In late February, I ventured into the waterlogged garden to admire the daffodils at close range. Confronted by a carpet of fragrant purple, punctuated here and there by the nodding yellow and white blossoms of the daffys, it became clear that the violets had it right after all.

Then I remembered a failed baking project from some years back. It was a birthday cake. It fell. There was no time to bake another, but this sorry-looking brown lump with the crater in the middle simply would not do. Filling the crater with lemon curd helped some, but embellishment of some kind was definitely in order. Off I went to the gourmet deli for some candied violets. Yikes! Semi-precious gems fall roughly into the same price range! I would have to make do with a few primroses dusted with sugar and some sprigs of ivy. The cake was lovely in the end.

The yen for candied violets resurfaced with vigor when I saw before me the raw materials in ridiculous abundance. After some trial and error, here is the process I devised. Pick about 2 cups of violets with stems attached. Fill a large bowl with cold water. Dump in the violets and swish them around to eliminate mud and/or critters, then pat them dry with paper towels. Whisk two egg whites in a bowl until barely frothy. Mound granulated sugar in a pie pan. Cover a cookie sheet with parchment or wax paper. Have handy a teaspoon, a pair of scissors and a damp sponge. Hold a violet by its stem, swish it around in the egg white, tap it against the side of the bowl to remove excess, then lay it in the sugar and use the spoon to fill all of the little crevices. Shake off extra sugar, lay the sugarcoated violet onto the parchment and use the scissors to cut off the stem. The sugar will puddle a little, so the best effect will be achieved if you place the flower face up. The damp sponge comes in handy to wipe sticky fingers and scissors from time to time. My two cups of violets filled a large baking sheet with no two violets touching. Drying time, I found, is critical. In a few hours they are dry enough to use for decorating, but for storage, a few days is more like it. My first batch seemed perfectly dry the next day, so I put them in little jars on a shelf, where I could admire them. Oops! They congealed into a solid ball. It was possible to pry them apart, but not without causing considerable damage (broken bits make a lovely flavoring for homemade ice cream, scones or biscotti). I used superfine sugar for the second batch. The color comes through a little better and they are more delicate, but drying time is even longer.

In the end, what is there to show for the considerable effort? The deep purple of the flower is filtered through the sugary, translucent crust to become a pale, shimmering lilac with just a glimpse of the orange eye showing through. The taste is hauntingly unexpected and elusive: as if your senses got all mixed up and you are suddenly tasting with your olfactory glands.

This is no quickie project. My love discovered me amidst the violets and proclaimed me certifiably insane. Unable to argue with such an astute assessment of my mental state, I simply turned the music up a notch and continued dipping and snipping and dreaming of extraordinary concoctions to come.

I’ve been reading Malcolm Gladwell’s What the Dog Saw, and this phrase jumped off the page: “The finger has hundreds of sensors per square centimeter. There is nothing in science or technology that has even come close to the sensitivity of the human finger with respect to the range of stimuli it can pick up. It’s a brilliant instrument.” He happens to be quoting Mark Goldstein, a sensory psychophysicist, talking about the superiority of well trained digits as diagnostic tools over the ubiquitous mammogram. We gardeners know what he’s talking about. No hoe, trowel or fancy weeding device can telegraph to our brains that gentle tug/release our fingers feel when the dandelion taproot gives up the fight and yields to our superior strength. Major digging may not be advised while the soil is still damp, for fear of turning it to a good imitation of concrete…but there is no better time to go after those pesky perennial weeds.

I mostly wear gloves, but when it comes to delicate weeding chores, nothing beats a bare-fisted, probing fingers approach. The garden ends up looking great, but don’t look at my favorite gardening tools too closely.

Enter Bag Balm, in the distinctive green tin with the cow’s head wreathed in flowers on the lid, and a discreet illustration of an udder and teats on the side. It is almost pure lanolin, and sticky feeling when you first slather it on. It absorbs fairly quickly, but even so, I only use it at bedtime to avoid mucking up anything I might touch. Having tried dozens of products over the years, I will say that this is the only one that really works. I buy it at our local feed and seed, but recently spotted it on the shelves of a one stop shopping center in town. Guess the word is getting out. Rest assured that no cows bribed me to write this post. I do so as a public service to fellow sufferers of cracked cuticles and callused paws.

This is what all of the trees in the orchard looked like a few weeks ago.

While I tend to throw myself at the garden in fits and starts, Richard is pretty good at pacing himself. A couple of hours a day, and pretty soon…

their haircuts complete, the trees are ready for prime time.

With a bonus of plenty of twigs to bring inside and force into bloom. These are pear blossoms that have been in a sunny spot in a vase with water for two weeks.

As you can see in this closeup, some blossoms have fully opened, while others are still coming on. I am partial to the little ball shapes before they unfold.

The cherry trees were a bigger project, requiring some engineering and using ropes as pullies to keep big, heavy limbs from falling on cats or humans. This stash of limbs and branches leads to fantasies of rustic structures.

Here’s a bucket of cherry branches sitting in water, waiting for the sunlight to work its magic and coax them into bloom. If you lived nearby, a big bouquet of these would be yours for the asking.

Our first year here, we were intimidated by the orchard and hired a neighbor/arborist to do the work for us. We paid attention while he lopped and lectured. Like so many things horticultural, timing is everything. Get that right (in general, because even there quite a bit of leeway exists) and the rest is just a matter of putting in the time. With days like we have been having lately, it is pure pleasure to be out there ‘playing’ in the sunshine.

I may have been too hasty, last spring, in declaring my newly planted Callistemon ‘Clemson’ dead. I cut it back hard, and it sent up new shoots from the base, but never produced the red bottle brush blossoms I so eagerly anticipated. Look at the above photo. Do you see what I see? I could swear there are signs of life, in the form of swelling nodes. Hands off this time. We’ll see what happens. It really should be hardy, as I have seen healthy specimens in the Reed ‘Hell Strip’. Fingers crossed.

Quite a few of us are bigger fans of foliage than of blossoms, so Pam’s brainstorm has us all aflutter. We can follow up Carol’s long-established Bloom Day with a post chronicling our standout foliage, then leave a comment on Pam’s entry so that like-minded bloggers can find us and share. This is my first time, and I am late (the target date is the 16th of each month). As with all things related to garden blogging, the rules are forgiving, so here goes:

Mahonia ‘Arthur Menzies’ knocked my socks off when I first saw it (in bloom). This one has been here for three years, the last two of which it formed long racemes of buds which were wiped out by bad weather. I don’t really mind, because the foliage looks like this all year. The ones at Cistus are 6′ tall, so it will only get better.

I keep adding heathers, but am not very good at keeping track of their names. This anonymous one snuggles up to Chamaecyparis ‘Barry’s Silver’.

In that same bed, the new foliage is showing up on the Rhus. I love the light, airy look and pale color at this stage.

Nothing seems to phase the Heucheras. They come through snows and deep freezes looking like this, and even seed around a bit. Think I’ll ever spot a sport to add to the growing horde?

The ‘Thunderhead’ pine is just a kid, but one of these days it will have started to sprawl and put forth the huge candles that attracted me to it in the first place.

Over in the vegetable patch, the rhubarb is beginning to push through the leafy mulch. See how crinkly and fresh the soon-to-be-huge leaves are at first.

Well, that was fun! Feel free to join in if you are a fellow foliage fancier. The more the merrier!

I seem to detect a note of desperation in the search for blossoms among bloggers this month. These snowdrops are singing their swan song, and like anything that’s been around for a while, one must get down on all fours to appreciate them (unless, I guess, you have great drifts of them…i do not).

The violets are just beginning. This is the commonest, and my favorite scent: Viola odorata, a shovelful of which came to my garden from my mom’s many years ago and has claimed space in every shady nook and cranny in two subsequent gardens.

Out under the sweetheart trees (see yesterday’s post) a carpet of white violets went unnoticed by me until joining in Carol’s Bloom Day project. Thanks again to Carol for opening eyes to hidden treasures.

They are sparse now, but soon there will be swathes of them. Here, again, it was necessary to get down for a worm’s eye view. Am I soggy and muddy? Guess. Was it worth it? You bet!

Still crawling around to get this shot of ‘Diane’. She has put on nice spurts of new growth each year, so I think by next year she will be tall enough to make a real impression on her own, without the camera tricks for giving a starlet presence.

About the time my back threatened to revolt over the permanent stoop, here came Euphorbia wulfenii doing its thing right at eye level. It is still getting into character before straightening up and unfurling its full glory, but I like it almost best at this stage…so full of promise…very like February itself.

I must confess to being a little disappointed in this year’s show. In the past, nurseries were known to pull out all the stops in an effort to outshine one another and go home with ribbons. I only saw one booth that went that route, but then it’s been a hard year. That said, I fired up the camera for a few things I found noteworthy.

ANLD built this colorful booth.

Then loaded it up with plants that echoed and/or complemented the jazzy color scheme.

These large sculptural leaves sprouting from the framework of another booth caught my eye.

A large glass “tree” seems to be making the rounds of shows. Karen had a picture of it in her post about the Seattle show. The background was so busy that I opted for a close-up, but it was huge.

My mission was to soak up atmosphere and speakers, not so much to shop. Chief Joseph pines were everywhere. I found some, tiny, in 4″ pots, for $60. Guess I will wait until they become common, which, by the looks of things, they are bound to do. What I did spring for was bulbs of Eucomis ‘Sparkling Burgundy’ and Arisaema triphyllum, a Calluna vulgaris ‘Blazeaway’ to add to my growing heather collection, and Euonymus fortunei ‘Emerald ‘N’ Gold’.

Zeroing in on just a couple of speakers out of so many choices was tough. Sean Hogan of Cistus Nursery spoke about bold foliage for small gardens. His point was that in a small room, filling it with finicky, small furniture makes it feel smaller than bold strokes. Well, we have a large property, but I figure the big stuff is even more important here. Cistus is nearby, so when I’m ready I will just pop on over to see what is available and grill the ever helpful staff. Sean’s talk was more along the lines of high entertainment for this plant-starved winter shut-in. Next, Dan Heims showed us shade plants….lots of shade plants, and filled us in on plant combinations, new introductions, and exactly the conditions to make them happy.

After all that stimulation, I was ready for a little walk. Miraculously, I had found a parking spot right across the street from the main entrance, so I decided to stroll around the perimeter of the convention center. I like the way plants spill over the balcony and contrast with the sand colored brick.

Bioswales carry runoff during the rainy months and are lined with draught tolerant grasses and basalt columns for year round interest, with traffic, bridges and skyline as background.

I have a very cavalier attitude toward propagation. When I read scholarly tracts on the subject, my head quickly begins to hurt. Every once in a while, a tip will jump off the page and lodge itself in the brain. For instance: a cutting of anything in the willow family will release a hormone that encourages other cuttings sharing the same container to produce roots. I don’t happen to have any Salix in my garden, but have found that Coleus provides the same service.

My studio windowsill sports a collection of clear glass containers filled with bouquets of hopeful cuttings. As roots form, they create swirling patterns as lovely as the foliage above. There are apparently certain times of the year that are best for taking cuttings, but my slipshod approach has not included record keeping to note when successful snippets were taken. An occasional rinsing of the jars reveals what is working and is an opportunity to discard the hopeless cases.

Choisya ‘Sun Dance’ has been one of the successes, though I fear for its survival after its most recent winter ordeal. Other champs have been geraniums, rosemary, lavender and forsythia. If I live long enough, I may fill up this garden yet.

One of my favorite little shops is in NW Portland on 24th, just off Thurman. Its name is Oxalis and it is in part of a little house, with garden art out front, all kinds of fun gifts in the house and plants out back. Like so many places that sell plants, once the season passes and the offerings lose their summer luster, great deals are to be had. I picked up Euphorbia amygdaloides ‘Helena’s Blush’, Hebe ‘Silver Dollar’ and Sedum rupestre ‘Angelina’ for a song. (actually, they probably would have paid me to spare them any singing)

They went into this petrified wood planter, where they are too crowded to stay for long. ‘Helena’ blushes deeper as temperatures drop, so she has provided a nice alternative to flowers in the dark months.