sprig to twig

What would you do if you awoke to no electricity? Our first thought was “coffee”, so we headed for The John Cafe in St John’s (sorry, Din, but we wanted breakfast, too). This place whips up a mean omelet, the proportions of which are plenty to split and fuel two people to face the day. That accomplished, we decided to take a trip to Concentrates to check out their new digs and pick up a few things. This was a long drive out into the suburbs of Milwaukie, where they gained a lot of space but lost the funky vibe that was a big part of their charm. Well, the next thing to spring to mind was “plants!”. If we took a particular, circuitous route we could justify winding up at Portland Nursery on Division.

Richard and I have very different taste in plants…which is OK, because we wind up with twice as many whenever we go shopping together. I love everything about this Cryptomeria japonica spiralis: its color, its form and especially its common name, ‘Granny’s Ringlets’. It will eventually reach ten feet, but right now it is no more than a foot high. My kind of gardening is a waiting game. Most everything I am attracted to would be far too expensive to purchase as an adult.The thing is, so much is going on in the garden that it hardly feels like waiting…more like “gosh, look how much THAT has grown while I was paying attention to something else.”

R, on the other hand, is all for instant gratification, so it is a good thing that his taste runs toward the less exotic in plant material. He was after something that would soon provide some shade for the front deck. Remembering the effect of a grove of Quaking Aspen shimmering and golden in late summer at Black Butte, he sought out Populus tremuloides. I quite agree that it will be lovely to have, so maybe two heads really are better than one.

Next stop: Means Nursery. We had agreed that a focal point was needed just as one turns into our drive. There is lots of gopher activity in that area, so several things had been tried, but failed…including a hawthorn tree that survived for six years before all of its roots were chewed away to leave the above-ground part lying on its side, dead and helpless. That was when the plan was hatched to encase the root balls of all new plants in wire cages before planting. That post is about four feet tall, but Italian cypresses grow fast, so ‘Swane’s Gold’ should make its presence known in good time. It will be a nice introduction and segue into the several regular deep blue ones that provide exclamation points throughout our landscape.

R was eager to get started planting, but I had only had my appetite whetted. Off to Cistus I headed.

First, a stroll around the grounds for inspiration. It’s a jungle out there, which suits me to a T.

On an overcast weekday with intermittent showers, I had the place to myself. By the time I was ready to call for help, I had forgotten to ask about this thriving Phormium. Clearly these guys have the magic touch.

This image will be stored away for when I start to worry about overplanting.

Several Araucaria araucana have been woven into the landscape in close proximity to their neighbors. My monkey puzzle tree looks positively lonely by comparison.

Gravel mulch sets off trilliums every bit as nicely as woodland duff…never would have thought of it.

Hanging over the path, these flowers caught my eye. When i found them in the sales area they turned out to be Ribes speciosum ‘Rana Creek’.

If you look closely, you will see that Rana is armed with very dangerous thorns.

I have always given my cardoons plenty of elbow room, but I like the way it is crowded into a border here.

I like the restraint of just a sprinkling of garden art as we close in on the shopping experience.

Always the plants steal the show, especially when raised to new heights in a dramatic red container.

Just when I was beginning to think that I could take Echiums more or less in stride, I stepped into the greenhouse area of Cistus and there was this…Echium candicans ‘Star of Madeira’. Words fail me.

I bought this Yucca aloifolia, which I plan to put in the large green glazed pot (unusual for me to have an actual plan in mind…maybe R’s ways are rubbing off a little).

Buddlieja globosa will live in a pot for a while, with Sedum ‘Angelina’ spilling over the edge. Its eventual size is nine feet, and those knobby balls turn bright orange and are fragrant. Once Angie fills in a bit, I’ll show you this interim composition. I also came home with a couple of charming sedums that do not photograph well, at least with my limited skills. By the time I came across Disporum cantoniense ‘Night Heron’, I had blown my budget and could only justify a four inch baby. Visit The Danger Garden and scroll through this post if you want to see ‘Night Heron’ as it should be seen.

One would think that with all the visits to Cistus, and all the posts, it would begin to seem repetitive or boring, but it seems to be an entirely different experience with each visit. I know I will keep going back for more. Would you like to come along?

I just rang your virtual bell and left you this fragrant bouquet of lilacs to celebrate May Day. Old fashioned flowers are appropriate for an old fashioned tradition. Pay no attention to the giggling in the virtual bushes.

This old lilac tree came with the property. I have been pruning it, but timidly: trying to let vigorous new shoots replace gnarly, tired branches. The short but heavy snowfall of this past winter used a heavier hand, breaking off large chunks. The tree is liking its new haircut and flowering more generously than ever.

The flowering is powerful, but brief. With several years of trial and error (mostly error) we finally got it right. The last picture shows the right moment to cut some branches for indoor enjoyment: a few of the individual florets have opened, others are still in bud. Cut too early or too late, they will go limp almost immediately. Fill a vase with lukewarm water and crush the ends of the cut branches (this is one of the few times I get to break out the meat tenderizing mallet). An arrangement on the dining room table fills the entire house with its delicious aroma. Same for the one on the front deck. We have been enjoying them for almost a week. I wish that I could waft that scent your way. Instead, I will send you over to Lelo in NoPo for another scented post.

Oh, and Janet’s Plant Sale is this Friday and Saturday 9-3 at 2090 SW Crest Drive in Lake Oswego (97034 if you need to Mapquest). Prices start at $1, and I can vouch for the gardenworthiness of her plants.

Restaurants feature them (part of the “eat local”, better yet “eat wild” movement), nutritionists tout them (a true super-food), our back woods is full of them. Yes, I speak of stinging nettles: the darlings of the spring culinary elite.

Ever one to dabble in the latest food craze (and never opposed to free food) I covered up, grabbed a basket and shears and headed into the woods. The abundance of plants in peak condition led me to cram my market basket with the pernicious delicacy.

While still in the woods, I spotted fiddleheads emerging from the many sword ferns and made a mental note to return for the makings of another esoteric kitchen experiment. Sadly, when I went back a couple of days later, the deer had nipped off each and every one.

On the way back to the house, I stopped by the vegetable plot, where a row of leeks was in need of thinning. I figured these would be good companions for the nettles.

Tongs had been recommended for handling, but I knew that, in addition to the tongs, this would be a hands-on experience. I broke out the surgical gloves. The stems and undersides of the leaves are covered with spiny hairs that release a devilish mix of histamine, serotonin and formic acid. By plunging the stems into boiling water for about a minute, that toxic brew is deactivated without undermining the health benefits of intense concentrations of protein, iron, vitamins and minerals. But how do they taste? Something like spinach with a little more of a mineral tang. The real difference is in the texture. There is an almost dangerous roughness on the tongue (I will admit: that may have something to do with the power of suggestion).

I had expected the raw material to cook down much more than it did. I wound up with plenty for experimentation. Dish 1: sauteed leeks and nettles layered with non-cook lasagna, bechamel sauce and three cheeses; grade ****. Dish 2: another lasagna using tomato sauce instead of the bechamel and adding sunflower seeds; grade **. Dish 3: simple scrambled eggs with the nettles stirred in and a light sprinkle of finishing salt; grade ****. My conclusion was that the simpler the dish, the more the subtle flavor of the nettles came through. And heavier gloves are needed for handling. I swished them around in cold water before using tongs to transfer them to the boiling water bath and could feel them stinging right through the surgical gloves. Not unbearable (anyone who cooks and/or gardens is used to minor injuries) but my fingers were still numb and tingly the next day.

Wendy, at Greenish Thumb has challenged us to cook up our gardens’ bounty and share. Go there to find good goodies.

On the second day, Hortlandia lost out to Maurice Horn’s presentation. Most Sundays, Joy Creek Nursery offers a seminar. This one held special interest for me, as I have been trying to phase out the need to drag hoses about during the dry summer months.

The canopy protects the audience from rainfall, or, in this case (wonder of wonders), sunshine.

A table plus a cart were loaded with plants to illustrate points being made.

These guys seemingly think of everything: handouts come on individual clipboards, complete with a sharpened pencil for note-taking. I, for one, was scribbling furiously. Maurice has been pressed into service to deal with some staggering planting problems, and he used them to walk us through a process that will end in success under almost any circumstances. The formula, in a nutshell: use a mixture of 1/4″ ten gravel mixed with organic material for planting; mulch with more of the same gravel. Mulching with gravel allows bringing the mulch right up to the plant, where organic mulches will cause rot if there isn’t breathing room. I had been using pea gravel because I like the look, but I am now convinced that the 1/4″ ten is superior in every way. Where pea gravel tends to roll and gets kicked around, this stuff stays put. Just make sure you get the washed kind so that sediment does not rise to the surface and form a crust.

I arrived early to stroll through the display gardens, and even had time to latch on to this Cistus ‘Blanche’.

It is marginally hearty here, so it is going in a pot with Heuchera ‘Caramel’ at its feet. I love those wavy leaves and the coloration of leaf and stem. The blooms will be white, so I can live with those, too.

We dove for the demonstration plants (politely, of course) and I came up with Artemesia versicolor, which has been on my list for some time.

Zauschneria garetti is supposed to form a mat through which early bulbs will grow and then produce red-orange flowers of its own later on. I’ll let you know how that works out.

Continuing my love affair with Eryngiums, this one is borgattii.

Sprawling forms of Ceanothus sound like the perfect ground cover for the evergreen border, so I am giving C. gloriosus ‘Heart’s Desire’ a try.

Everything the least bit fleshy that goes into my dry berm seems to get nibbled. I must figure out a way to protect Sedum ‘Stardust’, because that is the perfect spot for it, and I will cry if it meets the same fate as the poor Opuntia. Any ideas?

The best and most mature of Horn’s dry gardens is the Reed College Hell Strip. To see another of his efforts and get in on the early stages of a demanding project, go to the rest stop on the west side of I-5 near Aurora. Now I must be off to procure me some gravel.

Yesterday was R’s birthday. I asked him what he would like to do, fully expecting a visit to the Portland Art Museum and/or galleries around town. But no, he wanted to take a trip out to Bamboo Garden in North Plains. One of these days, we must take this little drive on a beautiful day…which yesterday surely was not.

But no matter what the weather, coming to this 20 acre bamboo haven just outside Portland, Oregon is a treat.

Here’s a little closer look at that bamboo forest behind the fence that greets you as you drive in.

Of course the fence is fashioned from bamboo canes.

…just the first of many imaginative uses in evidence. This woven piece hanging in the trees is probably close to 25′ long.

Pass through this doorway and you will find more…

like this woven sphere hanging in a greenhouse filled with an assortment of potted bamboo

and even some Tillandsias.

On the warehouse side hangs this pod sculpture woven from bamboo

Just in case you can’t wait for your own bamboo forest to produce the materials you need, that warehouse is chock-a-block piled high with poles of every length and diameter.

Plus a propagation area with tables full of tiny starts just getting underway.

Once we had met our guide and described to her our needs.

we were invited to hop aboard one of the electric carts, and away we went…

past clumps

along mixed borders and through forests

all the way to the bottom of the property, where extensive greenhouses overlook a large pond.

The signage is clear and informative, but hardly necessary because our guide kept up a running commentary, with stops along the way so we could take a closer look at anything that tickled our fancy. We were after timber bamboo, and we wanted something that would spread quickly (we’re no spring chickens, after all). Since we have managed to kill our last two trials, we opted to take home only one tub of the recommended Phyllostachys vivax. We left armed with two care sheets and a lot of verbal support for our efforts. If all goes well, we will definitely be back to give P. atrovaginata a try. Nicknamed “incense bamboo” the canes smell just like lemongrass when chafed.

Sasa veitchii is another that will haunt my dreams until I can get back there and claim a pot of it to introduce as ground cover. Couldn’t have had a better birthday if it had been my own.

I was meeting a friend who works at the Oregonian for lunch yesterday. I got there a little early and took a look around,

Looking east, the old world charm of The University Club, backed by screaming modernism.

Standing on that same corner and looking west, this spanking new high rise houses the latest iteration of Gifford’s Flowers.

Talk about curb appeal! Masses of cut flowers are arrayed down the block.

Forced branches of plum and forsythia reminded me to get out there and cut a few whips to bring into the house. For the first time here, the forsythia is large enough to sacrifice some of its new growth on the altar of home decoration.

All of the expected posies are represented, but how often do you see things like ‘love-lies-bleeding’ on sale by the stem?

Time to step through the door…who could resist?

Behind the counter, shelves and shelves of containers to strike any mood.

Zeroing in on a pair of whimsical bud vases. The glaze on these is beyond matte, for a very unusual, soft impression.

One whole corner is given over to succulents and tillandsias. They are not labeled, but unlike most shops selling succulents, someone here is up on things and can tell you what they are.

My impression was that the shop is much larger than it was in its former digs, but they said no, it is roughly the same. Everything now is out in the open, and you can look into the work area where creations are taking shape.

Surely you didn’t think that I could leave without claiming one of those bud vases for my own?

I love being able to pluck or purchase a single stem and have a way to show it off, especially in this time of relative scarcity in the garden. The snowdrops benefit from a closer look than they normally get in situ, and I don’t think I have ever fully appreciated them before bringing this one in to occupy my new vase.

I have been wanting a Euphorbia ‘Sticks of Fire’ for ever so long.

This one inflames my passion. I love the way the green at the base morphs into bright orange, with the new growth coming on in a bright shade of chartreuse.

Whenever I drive into town I have a list of errands to work into one trip, so off I went to Garden Fever in search of Castor Bean seeds. They always have charming sidewalk displays to greet shoppers and passers-by (who most likely turn into shoppers when they see what’s on offer).

This time I was taken with the tabletop gardens. Notice, in this on, how the little bit of earth not covered by plants is mulched with purple glass. Inside the store, there are many choices of stones, gravel and other things you could use for topdressing to similarly dramatic effect.

The tall ingredient here is Corokia cotoneaster, reminding me that I must give this plant another go…and maybe using it in a pot is the road to success (I’ve killed two of them already).

Last I’ll show you a sweet little pot crammed with blooming heather, cascading sedum ‘Angelina’ and a tuft of a grass I failed to identify.

No castor beans (uhoh, guess I will have to put my pocketbook in jeapordy with a return trip soon) but the unusual penstemon ‘Chocolate Drop’ and a new (to me, at least) zinnia ‘Red Spider’ from a source I haven’t seen before: Plants of Distinction, UK, with no website, came home with me, as did sweet pea ‘Singing the Blues from Botanical Interests. My assignment to myself is to get some seeds started this weekend. I usually put it off longer than I should. The tubular ceramic pieces in the upper right of the photo are destined to become segments in a totem I have in mind. With any success, you will see it here.

We have about 10 Italian cypresses scattered along the drive leading to our house. They act like a series of exclamation points. Some shoot up from bare ground, while others provide vertical elements amid lower growing plants.

With Stachys ‘Helen Von Styne’ sending up flowering stalks from her mounds of silvery foliage, it amounts to the best of both worlds. Beloved by bees, these stems also exude a subtle fragrance and avoid flopping.

In late spring, Eremurus ‘Cleopatra’ towers over this same berm, anchored by an Italian cypress at the far end. I might be accused of overdoing the spires, but there are billowy Euphorbias, rounded Rhododendrons and a few groundcovers to soften the effect.

After Cleo has faded, Kniphofia ‘Percy’s Pride’ steps in. I always knew kniphs as red hot pokers, but Percy is more of a white hot poker, pale yellow shaded to light green. K. ‘Primrose Beauty’ is less vigorous, but it may just need a little more sun than it gets on the other side of that Berberis jamesiana.

About mid-summer, Acanthus spinosa produces tall columns of exotic looking blooms that dry in place and are dressing up their berm even now. When happy, they can be thuggish, but I love them too much to complain.

I never know where the foxgloves will show up, but they seem to have a knack for placement. You may recall my puzzlement over the cupped flower at the top of the wand of more expected gloves. I was just reading up and found that it is typical of Digitalis purpurea ‘Monstrosa’.

This Verbascum is another volunteer, so I can’t tie down its identity any further.

I’m not sure these could even be called spires (they are pretty fluffy), but they do reach for the sky, and they sure do inspire me. So what about you? Are there spires in your garden? What are they, and how do you use them?

In case you didn’t know, I wrote a book about getting bitten by the gardening bug and the revelations and little observations that came with that new pastime (some might call it an obsession).

You can order one at the sneak preview price by clicking here. Or, if you just want to know “Why the goofy title?”, the first few paragraphs tell that story, and are included on the order page.

A couple of blogging buddies have written reviews. To read what they have to say, go to Danger Garden and Gardening With Grace. If you haven’t already discovered these two excellent gardener/writers, you are in for a treat when you browse through their blogs.

Please let me know if you would like to be in the loop for notifications of related events like readings, signings, etc. Just leave a comment here, including your email address. I promise not to bombard you with missives…just the occasional update when something new happens.

The fall sale is always calmer than the one in the spring, but this scene at the check-out tables at around 11:30 in the morning was shocking. I have been hearing from friends in the biz that they are just hanging on. The last couple of harsh winters could be discouraging late season splurges as well.

There were quite a few plants in the holding area, but normally there would be people three deep waiting to claim their plants. When I worked in holding, we quickly ran out of designated spaces and had to improvise. I had arrived with firm resolve to resist coming home with a bunch of stuff that would need babying through the winter. I’m going to mark my weakness up to a spirit of largesse in helping to keep these growers growing. On the bright side, there were parking spaces close by (in the shade, no less) and it was easy to chat up the vendors about plants of interest.

Case in point: this fascinating flower was in a booth selling “succulents”, a frustrating generality to those of us who are drawn to this large and varied category. Let’s back up and take a look at the whole plant.

Talking to the woman who was overseeing the booth, I learned that it is a Stepelia, and that this large, blooming specimen with the $25 price tag started a year ago as a plant this size:

for a mere $4.

So on my way home I stopped by Garden Fever to pick up a pot for it. It will be overpotted, as directed, so I am expecting some of those op art flowers to show up next year. I was sure there was more to the name, so I Googled it and found several photos that looked like the very flower, but with different names: Stapelia planiflora? Stapelia lepida?. I also learned that the common name is carrion flower or starfish flower. Then I made the connection: James, over at Lost in the Landscape had written about the stench emanating from carrion flowers…oops. I didn’t notice an odor around the booth, so maybe this is a less offensive variety. Loree has a much better picture on her blog about the sale. I promise I won’t be as long-winded about the rest of my swag.

Acca sellowiana, or Pineapple Guava is Zone 6-9, but it will live in a bigger pot on the front deck until early spring.

As will Drimys lanceolata or Mountain Pepper, a Zone 7 evergreen shrub from Dancing Oaks Nursery.

The coloring on Drimys is a lot like the Madrones, with the deep red stems.

Luzula sylvatica ‘Aurea’ is billed as Zone 5, so it is going into the ground.

Saxifraga ‘Whitehill’

And finally, a little trio of proven winners, Verbascum ariaphaenum, Selaginella krausseana ‘Aurea’ and Cornus canadensis, back there in the dark.

When the plants labeled lemon cucumbers instead began shucking out these, I decided it was time for a new experiment.

I had never made pickles before. It was incredibly easy. With this much raw material at hand, I will be trying out several variations and will let you know if there is a clear standout.

One tip was to put a grape leaf in the jar with the pickles to assure crispness. When I stopped by to see Michelle of Jockey Hill Nursery at the Scappoose Farmers’ Market, sure enough, she had grape vines. This one is a seedless Concord, good for jellies and pies, but it was the leaves I was after.

If you find yourself headed for the coast on Hwy 30 on a Saturday morning, you would be well advised to stop by this market. Michelle has healthy, well-groomed plants and there are always at least 5 that I can hardly resist. This Panicum virgatum ‘Shenandoah’ had to come home with me. Cooking and planting: what a way to spend a beautiful weekend.

Want to see what others are cooking up from their gardens’ bounty? Visit Wendy and she will put you on the right path.