Lantana - Colour Bonus

Day 292: I love Lantana for its ability to give you multiple colours on the same plant. It comes in several combinations: red/orange/yellow, lavender/pink/yellow, pink/yellow/white the most common among others, and occasionally you may find some solid-colour varieties for sale. In this varietal, the flowers open yellow. As they age, anthocyanoids begin to develop and combine with the photosensitive carotinoids to turn the flowers orange and then red. A full changeover can occur within 24 hours, giving your garden a whole new look between today and tomorrow. My first experience with Lantana was sufficient to put me off it for several years, though. The plants I bought initially came with a built-in infestation of whitefly (a common pest on Lantana) which spread to other susceptible species in my flower beds as well, including both fuchsias and heliotrope. However, since that first catastrophic planting, I've learned to check nursery stock before buying it and have not had a problem since.

Fitch Goes Nuts

Day 291: Hoya fitchii has gone berserk! There must be at least twenty umbels in various stages of opening, almost more flower than foliage on this, my most productive hoya ever, and that includes Hoya bella. The fragrant flowers are somewhat paler than previously, but still have a coppery-yellow hue with dainty magenta centers. I can't account for why this blooming period has produced so many, since I have not changed the manner in which I handle the plant's watering/feeding at all, other than to raise the pot a bit higher so it's out of Merry's reach.

Measurable Precipitation

Day 290: Years ago before I had internet access, I used to get my weather forecasts via NOAA's "Weather Radio." Reception here was rather poor, and it was not helped any by NOAA's upgrade to a computerized voice. I'm sure you remember those early synthesized voices: tinny, riddled with misplaced emphasis and clumsy pronunciation. NOAA's "announcer" had two in particular which took me forever to sort out because the misspoken phrases were so apt for our area. The first was "the rain forecast" which was followed by a forecast for Puget Sound and the Pacific Coast. Eventually, I realized that "the-rain" was supposed to be "ma-rine" by sorting it out in context. The second was even more hilarious. When a system was approaching, NOAA would give the percentage "chance of miserable precipitation" for the upcoming five days. As you might have figured out (and more quickly than I did!), "miserable" was "measurable." I bring this up today because we are having our first "miserable precipitation" for the month of July, a whole quarter inch so far, leaving plants, critters and firefighters much happier.

Awaiting Waxwings

Day 289: A little over a month ago, I had a solitary juvenile Cedar Waxwing (Bombycilla cedrorum) perch on the shepherd's-hook immediately outside the window. I hope he was taking notes, because the Sitka Mountain-ash berries are beginning to ripen, and there's nothing Cedar Waxwings like better. They (the berries) are in somewhat short supply this year due to bizarrely fluctuating weather in June, 90 one day, nearly freezing the following night, a pattern which played hob with many of my plants including the hardy kiwis. Nevertheless, there are enough mountain-ash berries on my two trees to keep a small flock of Waxwings happy for a day or two, and the ones they don't eat will be gobbled up by migrating robins. Both species of bird like the fruit a bit past its sell-by date when the pith begins to get somewhat winy. I'm not expecting Waxwings for two or three more weeks, but I hope that solo visitor carried the message home.

Wildfires

Day 288: Smoke from two wildfires on the east side of the Cascade Crest are affecting us here. Although the Park and areas west of it are still in the green as far as air quality is concerned, my eyes are watering and the Mountain's bulk is barely visible as a silhouette. The is partly obscured, casting a yellowish pall over the landscape even at high noon. The sunrise was ruddy. The two fires are "Black Canyon" (north) and "Retreat" (south), the former at almost 10,000 acres and 30% contained, the latter at 18,273 acres (not contained) and under "Go Now" evacuation from Bear Canyon northeast to the junction of Hwys 410/12. Additionally, the town of Tieton is under "Get Set" notification. Neither of these fires is close enough to present any danger of spreading to forests close to me, but the potential for deterioration in air quality is high.

Tall Phlox

Day 287: The Tall Phlox standing three feet high on the far side of the Barren Wasteland comes under the umbrella of "don't blame me." I'm sure that at least 95% of my readers know my opinion of the colour pink by now, and while the Phlox is bright enough to be allowed special dispensation, it still falls within the ranks of "pink" and therefore is not one of my favourite features. However, it came with the house and for a long time, it and the Bergenia (also pink) were the only things I could get to grow there. Now it must be said that the former owners of this property had one of the poorest senses of colour I have ever seen, and they applied it lavishly to the interior of the house as well. The living room drapes and carpet were a mix of orange and a dirty light brown. The walls of the living room had also been orange at some point, but were apparently painted over in universal eggshell for the sale of the property. The backsplash in the kitchen was covered with contact paper (also with an orange design), countertops coordinating in a brown-and-orange pebble, and the linoleum was a brown my mother would have called "sick calf" in polite company, and something far more rurally evocative to those who were more accustomed to her descriptive vocabulary. It was several years before I managed to eliminate completely the orange/brown theme, and I was never so happy as the day when the last of it went down the road in the remodelers' truck, destined for the dump. The garden has been harder to "repaint." I cannot bear to destroy a living plant other than invasives, and especially not one which grows where nothing else will take hold. I'll just have to live with pink when it pops up in the Barren Wasteland.

Bird Watch

Day 286: Both of Merry's kitty perches are immediately on the inside of the window from bird feeders. The hummingbirds intrigue him more than the larger birds (Grosbeaks, Jays, etc.) who come to eat at the suet basket, possibly because they move so much faster. For the most part, they stay on the far side, watching the Watcher, although occasionally one will hover near the glass. Skunk and Tippy both enjoyed watching birds, and neither of them became particularly agitated. That wasn't the case with Pete, the first cat I had as an adult. At the time, I lived on the east coast where Bluejays were prevalent. Pete was allowed outdoors, and the jays often attacked him when he went outside, flying down and smacking him in the back of the head. When Pete was inside, a jay sometimes perched on a branch directly outside the window. Pete's lower jaw would begin to tremble, and his teeth would chatter, despising his tormentors. I never knew him to kill a bird, but I am certain the urge was strong. Merry seems content to watch, and of course he will always be kept indoors and away from my feathered friends.

Dominant Species

Day 285: This is the Barren Wasteland at its best. Rudbeckia (Black-eyed Susan) dominates the space with occasional pops of colour from Rose Campion, Deptford Pinks, Tall Phlox and (now) Milkweed. A few white Yarrow stems are interspersed despite my efforts at weeding them out, and the odd stalk of peppermint which escapes being made into tea may add flecks of lavender. Already gone are the California and Oriental Poppies, the "orange" phase of the Barren Wasteland's phenological cycle, but the Rudbeckias will persist until after the first light frosts. When a section becomes too crowded with clumps of this vigorous species, I pull them out to make more room. There never seems to be a shortage!

Six Figgers

Day 284: It'll be the only time in my life I've seen six "figgers" on anything, but I'm more than happy to have them on my tree. All six are close to the same size, and I've had to mark them with blue tape so I can find them amongst the leaves. I check them almost every day to be sure no varmint has plucked one and to assure myself that this year, it's really going to happen. The friend who gave me my tree as an 18-inch tall start told me that it took several years for the parent tree to begin producing. When it made its first fruits, it only made a few, doubling that amount the following year and then going fig-mad in its third year. Now hers stands fifteen feet both tall and wide, and makes so many figs that she begs people to come and pick them. I'll be pleased to have enough for snacks fresh off the branch, or maybe a good batch of fig butter a few years down the road.

Hardhack, Spiraea Douglasii

Day 283: Hardhack (Spiraea douglasii) is native to the Pacific Northwest and occurs from Alaska south into northern California and across western Canada. In other locations, it is sometimes considered invasive due to its ability to spread and choke out other vegetation. It is often found in open wetlands where it receives full sun. It does not tolerate shade. It may attain heights up to seven feet in optimum conditions. It may also be called Rose Spirea or Steeplebush. In the Pacific Northwest, it is often used in wetland restoration projects because its root system assists in stabilizing soil. It may hybridize with S. menziesii and/or S. betulifolia where those species occur. Hummingbirds and butterflies are drawn to the flowers as a source of nectar. Although the stems are quite woody, the foliage is browsed by deer.

Yucca

Day 282: Valleys tend to be romanticized as fertile, loamy places where crops grow lushly in rich, black soil. Whoever created that myth obviously never met a glacier. This valley...my valley...is nothing but rocks and glacial flour overlaid with a thin layer of fill. Decent soil was brought in to give grass something to hold onto, at least on two sides of my house, but twenty feet from the structure, you're like as not to hit a Volkswagen-sized boulder if you can hack through the compacted silt layer to dig down three feet. Consequently, the farther away from the house foundation you get, the greater the need for clever xeriscaping. Enter the Yucca, purloined from my foster sister's house some years ago and plunked down in one of the least fertile spots in the yard. Tough as this plant may be, it has not spread as much as I'd hoped, although it valiantly struggles on and produces a flower spike every year.

Milkweed At Last!

Day 281: At last! The Milkweed (Asclepias syriaca) has a few open flowers! This stem is the only one out of a dozen or so which carries an inflorescence (two, actually), but considering that it has taken three or four years to reach this point, I have hopes that at least some of the others will follow suit next year. As for the types of pollinators it may attract, I'm not expecting Monarchs. They are quite uncommon in western Washington, and I have never seen one. However, I'm sure they're not the only butterfly which finds Asclepias appealing. I can't imagine having to hand-pollinate the flowers, but I'll keep my little paintbrush handy because I want to grow these for the pods. I'll be watching for insect activity, although I haven't seen many butterflies of any species in the yard yet this year.

My Favourite Weed

Day 280: I have a confession to make. Despite its status as a "weed," I love common Chicory (Cichorium intybus). I would love to have it in the Barren Wasteland and, if this confession is to be fully honest, I have made at least two (possibly three) unsuccessful attempts to introduce it thereby transplanting roots. It would be lovely growing alongside the bright Deptford Pinks and Rose Campion, a startling contrast amid the Rudbeckias which try so hard to dominate the space. I have never thought to gather seed (too obvious an option?), but it does not seem to transplant well. That fact suggests that it would be unlikely to become problematic if it did become established. I guess I'll just have to keep trying.

First Bath

Day 279: "Okay," I said, "you wanta be in the kitchen sink? This is what happens to little kitties who get in the kitchen sink." I removed the bowl he'd been investigating, turned the water on over the side basin to warm up, and when I had the temperature set, I put the stopper in the drain, fully expecting panic to ensue. Surprisingly, it did not, not even when I sloshed the water over his back. Having come that far without teeth or toenails becoming embedded in my anatomy, the next step was to swing the faucet around so the water was running directly on him. It was almost as if he'd expected it. He just stood there, getting wetter by the minute with the water level in the sink rising around his ankles. I lifted up his front paws, splashed water on his tummy. He was unfazed. I didn't soak him thoroughly, nor did I apply kitty shampoo, but for a first bath experience, Merry gets a gold star for good behaviour. He didn't even mind being towel-dried.

Deptford Pinks

Day 278: Perhaps my favourite of all the various things which have surfaced in commercial "wildflower" mixes, Deptford Pinks add a delightfully bright note despite the fact that the flowers are relatively small (smaller than Rose Campion) and are borne at the tops of thready 18" stems. I think the freckles are what make this member of the Dianthus family so winsome, or maybe it's the "pinked" edges of the petals which look as if they were cut out with pinking shears. The enticing etymological rabbit hole evoked by the term "pink" yields up nothing definitive with respect to the flower, although "to pink" means "to make holes by piercing with a sharp instrument," which to my way of thinking (although entirely unsupported) might refer to the resemblance of the freckles to small perforations. Trypophobics beware! You might want to think twice before planting Deptford Pinks in your garden!

Hot Crocosmia

Day 277: Whoever named this variety of Crocosmia "Lucifer" probably did so because it is red-hot as the fires of hell. It also spreads like a weed, so if you succumb to its temptations, be sure you place it somewhere it isn't likely to take over the world. Initially, I'd put mine in a dead spot in the flower bed, and it only took a few years before I began repenting the errors of my ways. I dug it out, carefully sifting the soil for each and every tiny bulblet, but as is often the case with plants which form bulbs, there were some I missed. Little by little, I've managed to eradicate it from the flower bed and have moved it to a better location (two, actually) where it can grow with abandon. I love the "heat" the flowers give to the yard.

Unassailable Logic

Day 276: I am not unreasonable. When presented with unassailable logic, I am willing to look at a situation from a different viewpoint, to give ground on my position. Strange cardboardy sounds in the kitchen were followed by a deafening silence, the "tell" of a small cat exploring somewhere a small cat would probably not be allowed. Was he behind the microwave again? No, I'd blocked that up. I had not heard the clink of china, so he wasn't in the dish rack, and the obvious temptation of the counter and its container of kitty crispies yielded no sign of a small grey cat. He was not having a private moment in his litter box or lurking beside the pillar of the table, ready to attack my leg. "Where's Merry?" I said, expecting him to leap out from cover. Nope, no cat. He hadn't slipped by me. Of that I was reasonably certain, although he moves like a streak of greased lightning. "Where's that little Merry cat?" I asked again. I heard another faint cardboardy noise, sufficient to direct my eyes to the shelves where I store my canning jars. There, a small grey head appeared over the edge of an empty box. No, correct that. A small grey head appeared over the edge of an unmistakable cat bed of perfect size and configuration. The logic was flawless. My side of the debate never stood a chance.

Hosta Flower Spike

Day 275: I have to admit that when I bought Hostas, I was thinking of them in terms of being a foliage plant. They are that, without a doubt, the huge leaves offering plenty of drama in the shady niche at the end of my carport. However, the flower spikes have proved to be exceptionally photogenic, especially in the early phases of their development, as the one shown here demonstrates. Later, the individual flowers will droop on the stalk, becoming more elongated and taking on a purplish tinge. I so enjoy them that I have set aside a space beneath my big Doug-fir which I hope to eventually fill with assorted different cultivars, intending to grow them for both foliage and flower.

Topped And Tailed

Day 274: As sick as I've been (still am, on some levels), the gooseberries very nearly got away from me this year. This morning, I forced myself out into the garden with a 4-cup Tupperware bowl which, by the time I was done picking, was brim-full. To put this into perspective, I would normally have picked four or five times, a cup at a time so that the topping-and-tailing part of the procedure only took fifteen minutes per collection. As it was, it took me over an hour to top-and-tail this batch, and there are at least that many more on the bushes to harvest over the next several days. Yes, topping-and-tailing (removing the stem and blossom ends) is a lot of work, and it's arguably one of the main reasons most people don't bother with growing gooseberries (vicious thorns being another), but for those of us who love gooseberry jam, it's worth both the effort and braving the hazards. These now go into the freezer where they'll stay until cooler weather for processing.

Philadelphus - Butterfly Magnet

Day 273: Philadelphus! If you're familiar with the tree/shrub, you undoubtedly will have a memory of its fragrance. In either form, it is also known as "Mock-orange," and the scent is similar to that of citrus flowers. Here, it is a magnet for Swallowtail butterflies when it blooms, with the insects often hovering in clouds above the blossoms. Throughout the day, the entire neighbourhood is filled with its perfume, but following a warm afternoon, the scent is even stronger in the evening. Philadelphus lewisii (the leggy tree) is native to the Pacific Northwest, as opposed to its shrubby counterpart which is a commercial cultivar.

Hypericum

Day 272: "Be careful what you wish for," isn't that how the saying goes? Back before I knew any better and had just bought my current home, I was looking for any kind of cheap or free landscaping plants to fill in an almost empty yard. I'd seen this plant at my husband's parents' home and liked its efficiency as a low-growing ground cover. The parking lot at the local K-Mart had borders of it, so one day, I packed my trusty trowel and a pair of snips, intent on making a quick raid for a handful of starts. It wasn't quite as easy to effect as it sounds. The roots travel a long ways, but eventually, I was able to dig out a few lengths. That should have been a clue, but I was young and innocent, and blithely unaware of Hypericum's tendency to spread rampantly, and its sheer dogged persistence once established. I've given up trying to eradicate it, and these days, I keep it in check with savage mowing, the only recourse short of dropping an atomic bomb on it, and I suspect it might even survive that measure.

Comptonia Peregrina

Day 271: Comptonia peregrina is a woody shrub native to the eastern portion of the country. Its common name of "sweetfern" is descriptive of the fragrant foliage which some feel is fern-like. Its natural growth habit is more leggy than it appears in this photo. I keep mine pruned into a relatively compact shape, so the deciduous foliage is actually quite dense. Removal of suckers keeps it from spreading out of bounds. In mid-summer, it produces soft-spined burrs, each of which contains 2-4 seeds. I have not had any success at propagating it from seed, but have managed to start rootstock cuttings.

The Covid Warp

Day 270: Despite my stringent precautions, I came down with covid in late June. The first day was pure hell, but as I began feeling a little better, I decided to wind a warp for the table loom, empty since finishing up the last batch of t-shirt rugs. I found a draft I liked ("A German Bird's-eye"), one which allowed for a regular pattern of warp stripes, ideal for fingertip towels. I carefully calculated the width required: 18 repeats of 14 threads, drafted it with Fiberworks to be sure it worked right. It took me several days to wind the warp, having to work in the Loom Room with the door closed to keep Merry out of mischief, usually winding three repeats of 3 red, 2 green, 5 blue, 2 green each time I felt like standing up for half an hour. Eventually, I was feeling strong enough to transfer it to the loom. Merry behaved himself beautifully, being content to play in the rolls of cardstock I'd tossed down on the floor. I wound the warp on over the course of a morning, and then the following day, began the threading. I verified each sequence as I went along: two #1 heddles, three on both #2 and #3, four on #4. It was a little difficult to tell blue from green when it came time to thread the reed, but since everything was in order, it kept track of itself. I wove two inches of "slicky cord" to set the spacing, but kept saying to myself, "This is narrower than it ought to be. 255 ends ought to be about 18 inches." I changed to the real weft thread, wove an inch and began hemstitching. I'd gone through roughly five sequences when I said, "What? How can I possibly be coming out at the same point in the pattern if I'm hemstitching by 4s and there are 14 threads? It ought to shift over by two at the end of each sequence." That's when I saw what I had done. My pattern repeat was 12 threads, not 14. I checked the book. Yep, 12. I suppose it could have been worse. At least the pattern is correct, but the width is roughly 3" narrower than I'd intended. Forevermore, this will be known as the Covid Warp. Today, I finally tested negative.

Rose Campion

Day 269: Rose Campion (Silene coronaria) is one of the survivors from the various packages of mixed wildflower seed I've thrown into the Barren Wasteland over the years. Those "regional" mixes often include species which may be considered invasive in certain areas of their specified "region" (an example would be California Poppies, included in almost all blends for the Pacific Northwest), and they often include non-native, non-aggressive species as well. I have found that Rudbeckia (Black-eyed Susans) will quickly dominate any space, so every few years, I pull out the older plants, leaving a few to keep the colour going. Rose Campion has never been a problem, although it's spread within the confines of the Wasteland itself. Pink or not, I enjoy its bright eyes, borne on stems two feet or more in height, with soft, fuzzy, silvery foliage. I always allow it to go to seed where it stands since it is so well-behaved.

After The Blizzard

Day 268: Three years ago, an early autumn blizzard swept down out of Canada and left my kitchen deep in its drifts when I inadvertently opened a seemingly innocent envelope. It took quite some time to collect the individual flakes, but in the end, they were transported to the Barren Wasteland where, theoretically, they were supposed to develop into milkweed plants and the charming seed pods typical of the species. Until now, they had not shown any sign of flowering. However, at this point, one of the tallest plants is showing promise. A second batch of seed from another source was planted the following year. Those plants, although as tall as these, do not appear to be going to bloom this year. Maybe next year? Do they need to be established for three years before flowering occurs?

Adenium Joyful

Day 267: Adenium "Joyful" joins "Plum Beauty" in filling my kitchen window with its showy flowers now, each bloom 2.5-3" across, albeit held aloft on nearly leafless 16" stems. What these "Desert Roses" lack in the foliage department is more than made up for by their floral displays. That said, daily misting has made an substantial improvement in the quality of new leaves, although I still feel they might benefit from even more frequent misting, maybe twice a day (at least when the window gets the hottest sun). Currently, I'm trying to find the right balance in demands for the spray bottle. Who needs it more? The plants or the kitten? It's become my Weapon of Choice for reminding the small hellcat of his manners.

Star Jasmine

Day 266: New to the garden this year is Star Jasmine (Trachelospermum jasminoides). After multiple attempts to propagate cuttings from a friend's plant, I gave up and bought one to replace a failing clematis on a small trellis at the corner of the house. As its Latin binomial indicates, Star Jasmine is not a true Jasmine, but has a similar flower form ("jasminoides" means "jasmine-like"). It is highly fragrant, particularly on evenings following warm days. It can be grown as a ground cover (i.e, "mounded") or as a climbing vine. It asks for at least 8 hours of sunlight per day, and soil which is neither too wet nor too dry. It is hardy in our Pacific Northwest climate, although if temps drop below zero in winter, it might require protection.

Baby Face

Day 265: The House of Chirp had a bad start this year. What may well have been a first-time pair began nesting way earlier than usual, and although they worked diligently on construction and things seemed to be progressing normally, first one and then the other parent disappeared. Several weeks went by while I resisted the temptation to check the box, and then one day, I noticed new activity. Shortly thereafter, I saw a bird emerge from the interior with a bit of eggshell (or what looked like it) in her beak, and not long after that, I was sure I was watching a pair bringing new nesting material to the house. Activity has been constant since then, and yesterday, the first brave little soul peered through the door to make his first assessment of the big world beyond. Now friends know the phrase well, so they will not be surprised to see it here. In my book, there is nothing...absolutely nothing!...cuter than baby birds. Okay, kittens come close (even when they're chewing on your leg or having to be retrieved from the mantel), but little baby birds top the list. Soon, this little fellow will be ready to take his first flight, and the House of Chirp will be empty once more.

Great Galloping Gooseberries!

Day 264: The gooseberries have just begun to ripen, and with hot weather coming up for the next several days, they'll be kicked into high gear. Don't ask me why, but the bushes have very few leaves this year, and are absolutely packed with berries along every densely spiny stem. I might even get enough for two batches of my favourite jam. Mind you, gooseberries aren't something you're inclined to eat straight off the plant. Even after the sugars have fully developed, they're a bit too puckery for most palates. Occasionally, I'll eat one of the ripest while I'm picking them, but they do tend to put your back teeth on edge. As a jam, however, they are a delightful balance of sweet-tart, making them well worth the hazardous task of harvesting them. Some folks wear welder's gloves to protect their hands, but walking between close-packed bushes, you may sustain damage to other portions of your anatomy not so well shielded. Gooseberry cultivation is not for the faint of heart!

Kiwi Flowers

Day 263: I'll admit my memory isn't as sharp as it was when I was in my thirties, and that's one of the reasons I maintain my blog, specifically as a handy reference for plant phenology. My head was telling me the kiwi vines were blooming late, but according to my records, they're right on time. I'm not seeing as many flowers as I think I should, but whether that is due to the odd too-hot-today, too-cold-tomorrow weather we've had all spring or to my radical pruning of the vines last fall can only be conjectured. It's possible there are more buds still to come. Today I clipped out the long, thick, non-productive canes to open the tangle to more sunlight, crucial for ripening the fruit if and when it sets. I'm still in the learning phases of hardy kiwi horticulture, and it seems every YouTube video suggests a different method to achieve the best crop.

Five-Star Kitten

Day 262: Merry had his first checkup this morning, and passed with flying colours. Any concerns I might have had were addressed and dismissed, and his doctor told me that she was very happy when she saw our names on her appointment list. I've been going to the same vet since the days when my cockatoo was still with me, almost twenty-five years now. Merry was not exactly happy about getting poked and squeezed, but he behaved himself beautifully. When we got home, the first thing he wanted was the security of my lap (where he is right now, all teeth and toenails and telling me I should be petting him and not typing...OW! THAT'S MY ELBOW!), and after a nap, he had a snack and playtime. Given the way the rest of June progressed, I am glad to have this initial visit behind us, and my little mischievous sweetheart given a clean bill of health.