Category Archives: my garden

Busy, with mouse.

Getting things done. It’s so much fun to check off a few boxes on my “After Greece” list. One of the tasks was to get the fountain leveled. Just before the stonemason was going to come to do that, the pump motor died; I’m glad that happened just before, not after, the leveling. The man who always cleans my fountain when I let it turn green, about once a year, got me a new motor and installed it while I was out one afternoon. That was easy! The stonemason leveled it last night, and gave it a more secure brick-and-mortar base.

I returned from Greece two weeks ago but haven’t got back in the cooking groove. Part of the reason is, I hadn’t made it to the store to buy supplies, and was trying to assemble meals with whatever I could find in the cupboards and freezer. This morning I took my one onion, a can of tomatoes, a small container of mixed sauteed vegetables I’d stored in the freezer, and my home-grown fava beans also stored in the freezer, and made a really nice soup. “Before Greece” I’d roasted all the peeled garlic cloves in the fridge, which was a giant bag — I threw a bunch of those in, too. The soup was good hot, and also cold, as I found out later when the day had warmed up and it didn’t seem necessary to warm up dinner as well.

Recently I decided I wanted to mulch my vegetable plantings with rice straw the way I did ten years ago. So this morning I drove to the feed store where I hadn’t been since then, and was pleased to park next to the shed where baby chicks were peeping. While waiting for the bale to get loaded in the back of my Subaru, I noticed that they had not only rice straw, but rye, wheat and teff as well. The fibers of the teff straw were different from all the others, appearing to be fine and fluffy; I’d like to try that for mulch sometime.

In the past it was a hassle to keep the straw bale dry in the winter and at the same time prevent the rats from bedding down in it and chewing on the tarp that was protecting it, so I thought I’d keep it in the garage this time. Problem was, there was no space for it, unless I would get rid of the plastic storage bins that have been piling up in there as I empty them one by one. So I took them all out and put a notice on our parish email list asking for takers.

My goddaughter Esther came over midafternoon to get some lavender to use in cosmetics. I loaded her bag with rosemary, oregano, and yerba buena herb as well. She said that everything she cooks, if she puts oregano in it, it tastes better. And she’s not even Greek!

I have several types of English lavender growing here; she thought the small, darker purple blooms had the nicest scent, so I made her a couple of bundles of those stems only.

While she was still here, another parishioner stopped by to get some bins. She took almost all of them, and later another person took the remainder.

After the first batch of bins was gone, Esther and I were still standing in the driveway when I saw a field mouse run past. What? At that time of day one doesn’t expect to see such a critter, and I actually haven’t seen a mouse around here in ages, at any time of day, though we are always battling rats that come up from the creek. I could only guess that the mouse had been inside the bale of straw. Uh-oh. Now I am not sure about storing it in the garage.

Son Pathfinder has a new house, with new-to-him plants scattered around it. So he texted me a photo of one of them, wondering if I knew what it was. I had seen an almost identical one on my neighborhood walk the other day, but my Seek app couldn’t identify it correctly. We kept looking up plants and trading ideas back and forth for an hour via text (we’re very slow texters), and finally figured out that it is a yucca: “The flowers are edible and have a peppery flavor. Fruits can be roasted or dried and are sweet and fig-like.”

Here, the bees are finding the teucrium to be full of their favorite sweet food.
And with that I will say good-bye for now.

 

June flowers make me feel at home.

My front garden had turned into a jungle by the time I returned after nearly three weeks away; I expected that, but didn’t anticipate all of the species that would get tangled together. Some of them, like the nigella and poppies, were way past their prime and I could simply pull them out.

Black Medick

There was a certain weed that had flourished under the asparagus fronds and was climbing by means of its yard-long stems up behind and over the germander, which is just starting to bloom. It also was growing in the cracks in the walkway. I knew I had seen it before somewhere, but never in this quantity, so I looked it up: Black Medick. I pulled at least most of it out, and added that to the green bin.

I bought cosmos and some shorter flowers to replace all the things that I removed; and a few basil, summer squash and zinnia plants to put in the planter boxes. Because spring was cool here, the Iceland poppies are still blooming, and welcomed me home.

The Showy Milkweed is blooming and the bees are on it.

In Greece, in addition to the live, rustic and thorny version of acanthus I’d seen on Paros, I saw plenty of carved acanthus leaf designs in the ancient Byzantine architecture in Thessaloniki. I came home to see my own plants looking more majestic than ever.

The lavender has come out, and the Mock Orange, and the little campanula that hides under the Mock Orange. The Golden Marguerite that I’d pulled out of the front garden last year — it returned, and was  aggressively invading my new landscape, so I cut it back, and stuck the clippings in a vase. After all that, and a few days recovery from jet lag, I’m beginning to feel myself again ❤

Bees and good-byes.

Bee on yerba buena.

Good-byes not to you, Dear Readers, but to the beautiful friends that are the trees and flowers, bees and blooms of my garden, as I prepare to set out on my travels. Most of the days of the year I am home and can tend to their needs, even if it is often less than optimal care and attention I give. Now, in May, the most flowery and gorgeous of my local botanical world, to leave it all…

I keep reminding myself that it will be okay. There is an automatic irrigation system, there are friends and neighbors and landscapers and possibly even a daughter, to caretake in my absence. Yesterday morning it must have been God Who woke me up at 4:00 a.m. so that I found myself in the garden before the sun rose, and witnessed a leaky irrigation hose spraying against the pine tree instead of giving drink to the plants on down the line. I turned off the system and later on Trusty Alejandro was able to come and repair that, and another leak that he discovered by testing the whole system. If I hadn’t quite unusually been out to witness that (and to bathe in the heavenly and oh-so-earthly atmosphere at that time of day), it likely would have wasted that precious water several times a week, and many plants would have suffered before I got back. For anyone who is not aware of the fact, our summer season in California is typically rainless.

In my pre-trip melancholy I keep going out to peruse the little kingdom that God has made me a steward and a lover of, and I see new and amazing things every time. I also find more little weeds to pull, or yellowed leaves to pinch off. There will probably be dirty dishes in the sink when I depart, but I hope no spent irises or Iceland poppy stems standing tall and naked.

I was surprised by the blossoms on the yerba buena ground cover under the pine tree, though I know I’ve seen it in bloom before. The bees are crazy about those tiny flowers. I know the one photo of the bumblebee is blurry, but it was cute the way he was hugging the cup of nectar while drinking…

…or losing his head entirely in his delight:

Two sides of my garden have tall dodonaea or hopbushes providing a backdrop of ever-changing colors for the other plants, and a sort of screen that makes the garden more cozy. Right now a couple of the bushes have changed into their pink outfits.

Today the new Landscaper Dan is coming very belatedly to make a plan for things he might finish up while I’m gone. It gives me extra comfort to know that a person who appreciates the garden needs even more than I do will be paying attention. The area by the front door that we planted together in November makes me feel that I am in the middle of the prairie. Those droopy-petaled pink flowers are echinacea pallida. I’d tried growing them from seed several times without success, but Dan got three plants which have been very happy, and happy to bloom.

My arborist friend A. came and pruned the pineapple guava (feijoa) a few weeks ago. It is so big now, in its tenth year in the garden, and covered with those blooms that are so delicious to eat in themselves. I wish you could come over and have a taste.

I can’t stop swooning over the penstemon — that color!

Soon I plan to be back with stories while exploring in Greece,
but for now, God bless and keep you, Dear Garden!

Blue-eyed grass can’t hide from me.

If I hadn’t been benignly neglecting my planter boxes, I’d have butternut squashes or snow peas growing on the trellis, and zucchini as well. As it is, volunteer sweet peas have flourished, because those boxes are irrigated on a timer that gives them a little water every day. This week I pulled out all the burr clover and aphid-infested collards and Swiss chard, to make room for the flowers, and to plant more seeds.

We cut the snowball bush viburnum down to stumps, because it needs to be given a fresh start. I promise I will give it water during dry spells as well. In former days we put the hose on it in summer, and I don’t know why I stopped.

Bursts of purples meet the eye all over the back garden, from the lobelia…

…to the penstemon…

…to the Blue-Eyed Grass hiding behind a pomegranate bush:

I know that when I go on my trip next week, I won’t be thinking of my garden. But right now, I am reluctant to say good-bye, and I’m thinking of all the changes that will happen without me seeing them. Probably by the time I return the sweet peas will be a little crisp.

But more blossoms might have emerged on the lemon tree.

You know I’ll be sure to let you know.