Tag Archives: pineapple guava

From seals to snapdragons.

my garden, ocean, , , , , , , , , , ,

On Saturday I drove my out-of-town friend to the coast. We have several times made this trip when she is visiting her family for Thanksgiving. The weather was forecast to be sunny all day, which we received as a wonderful gift, though we are used to fog out there at any time of the year.

When we arrived it was truly a gorgeous day. No wind, and plenty of sunshine and blue skies. The long road to the parking lot next to the beach was closed to cars, with no explanatory signage. Maybe it was because of the king tides still happening, which make these already dangerous beaches even more so. But we were allowed to walk down, which just gave us more good exercise coming back, so that was okay.

Only about two dozen harbor seals were lying by the mouth of the Russian River. But throngs of gulls were coming and going above us, and then making a racket as they swam in huge flotillas of white specks on the river, the whole scene sparkling.

Suddenly, the fog arrived! Unexpected, but not surprising.
That’s how it goes on the North Coast.

After watching the seals and gulls for a while longer, Mother S. and I began our long, slower this time, walk back up to the car, and our long drive home again. We were well satisfied.

Moving on to this morning… When I was adding water to the fountain I heard a woodpecker up in the redwood tree in the neighbor’s yard behind mine. I rarely do hear those birds around here so it was a pleasant encounter, though I couldn’t get my eyes on him.

I did see a hummingbird checking out my new abutilon that is in a pot; I wonder if that is a flower that actually offers any drink to the hummers? Seems like they would have to fly upside down while drinking…

Today I cooked up the first batch of greens from the planting by the driveway. It’s convenient having them growing there, because I notice them at least several days a week when I get in and out of the car. These I picked Saturday morning, and stuck them in the fridge to wait a couple of days. Yum! The flowers are on either the Chinese broccoli or the kalettes; I got them mixed up. But they taste good so they went into the pot, too.

When Pathfinder was here he was looking at my olive trees that are growing in pots. One of them he gave me fifteen years ago, and the other I bought in a little pot at the grocery store a couple of years later. I also got them mixed up, because after years of careful pruning, they have the same shape, which they didn’t at first.

Pathfinder asked me what type of olive I had bought for myself, and I said it started with an “A.” That would be an Arbequina, he told me. And he knew that he had given me a Manzanillo; then he pointed out the different shapes of the olives that are right now on the trees. He knows the Manzanillo, which is this one with pointier fruits:

Which means that the Arbequina is this one:

I never noticed the difference before! They are on opposite sides of the path from each other, so I don’t see them closely at the same time. That’s my only excuse for my inattention, but it saddens me that I don’t know my beloved trees very well. Pathfinder cures olives, so he has an eye for them. And now I know them better.

The last unripe fruits to show you are my pineapple guavas. Last week I harvested six ripe ones from the ground under the bush. Today I searched, but no more had fallen, and even the largest of the hundreds still hanging on were hard. Probably few if any more will come of age; their mini climate is just not ideal for them.

At least the snapdragons are being beautiful along the front walk.

This week I’m joining quite a few people in the parish for a Thanksgiving dinner in our church hall. I’m bringing a large quantity of the famous Orange Yams, adapted from my mother-in-law’s recipe. I see that I’ve never shared that recipe here before, so I’ll try to remember to take a couple of pictures to go with a recipe to be posted later.

December is almost here… And then 2025 will be history!
We must breathe deeply and make the most of every day ❤

Another tree I have known.

nature, trees, , ,
November 2015

This morning I got out into the fresh fresh, rain washed air, still damp and loaded with nourishment from a mysterious and secret recipe, and I walked to and along the creek, and heard an unfamiliar and curious bird song. I wasn’t prepared for that, not having my phone and its Merlin bird app with me — I was trying to be a little bit un-modern.

I heard several bird songs, as it turned out, and saw a flurry of tiny birds on the paved path, scurrying under the privets. There was to be no sunshine today, but I still felt the pull of the reality, “Light of Light, True God of True God,” my own Source of Life.

I looked forward to a lunch date in a short while, so I couldn’t explore as long as I’d have liked; I turned back, along my usual route, past the pineapple guava that I have known and noticed for as long as I can remember. Many huge fruits were on the ground, much larger than anything mine ever produces… probably because it gets full sun all day long. I bent over to pick up one that hadn’t been bruised, but it was hard. Odd, that it hadn’t ripened….  and then I saw, a few feet away, the horror: the whole tree had been hacked to the ground, and I became aware of a large empty space above me.

Construction workers — or was it a demolition crew? — were in the driveway of the property on which the tree had lived, modestly, on the very corner of the lot, where it was not in the way of anything. Maybe a new owner was starting Something New. There the Modern attitude hit me where it had hit the feijoa, the idea we have of thinking that the best way is, Cut it all down and start over.

I looked through my old posts just now for a picture of that tall bush. I had mentioned it several times, but never took its picture. The owner of the property did not live in the house on that property, I learned that much some years ago. I also know that he never appreciated the guava for what it was; he always pruned it at exactly the wrong time, so that it rarely had a chance to show how many fruits all that sunshine could have sweetened to lusciousness.

I did love that tree. A few times I gathered a few of its fruits off the ground, and once my grandson and I picked its blooms to take home and add to our breakfast. I wonder if anyone else in the neighborhood will notice its absence?

Bees and good-byes.

my garden, , , , , ,
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!

Feijoas, clouds and softness.

my garden, weather, ,

It’s a benevolent autumn day. Rain is coming, possibly in a few minutes, and next week the nighttime temperatures will fall sharply again. But at this blessed moment… I discovered that it’s warmer outside than in. I went out to look for figs that the squirrels hadn’t eaten, and filled my apron more than once with pineapple guavas (Feijoa sellowiana) instead.

Clouds come and go. Soft and warm gusts of wind blow one thing and another out of its place. Last week I laid a fire, and I keep putting off lighting it. I’ve been too busy to tend or enjoy a fire in the stove, and the weather has been mild enough to do without. But on a dark and rainy night, when I get to stay home — seems like it might be the right time.