Spring Bling

'Tis wet and windy tonight, as it was all day. Not exactly hospitable gardening weather. I've been pulling the odd weed, amending soil and moving plants around when the weather is dry enough to do so. When it rains, or rather, spritzes, as it tends to do here in Portland, I say damn the lack of atmospheric hospitality, I'm going to get down on all fours and investigate my garden up close, nose to the dirt..
One of the many things I love about Spring is watching my perennials emerge from the soil in their half awake state. The best way to witness this slo mo performance is down on the ground, just above soil level, the better to discover a sturdy little node pushing its way into the open. Some of these beauties surprise me...I've either forgotten I'd planted them or I assumed they would not return. Last Spring, I had hauled a load of perennials from my old home in Bend back up to Portland where they would sit in my garage for a month. By the time I had dug out a nice bed in which to plant them, most of them had gotten moldy and looked absolutely pathetic. Nonetheless, knowing that plants are capable of beating pretty stiff odds, I planted them all in the primordial Portland earth, hoping that soil would nourish my poor plants back to their lush former selves. Took two Springs, but everything I brought back from Bend came back beautifully, some even better than before. Blade shaped, lime green, miniature hosta leaves, deep purple, ruffled heuchera, 'Angelina' sedum, tinged with orange, raspberry red euphorbia, even my clematis 'Etoile Violette', all are lush and reaching happily skyward.
And yet, there are no guarantees despite best intentions. All experienced gardeners know that, make their peace with it, and carry on. My friend Stacey has had a couple of different gardens in the time she has lived in Portland. She is a talented gardener, one who loves new and different plants. Before she bought her home, Stacey had never had a problem growing plants here... everything she planted came up and thrived joyously. Her new yard, probably just under a quarter acre (huge for an urban plot), posed some new and confounding problems, problems she has not yet figured out. Most of the perennials still love Stacey's patch of Portland muck, but the property harbors some deadly mysteries that have choked the life out of several large and lovely specimens. A four foot tall and endearingly plump Alberta spruce suddenly began to drop its fuzzy little needles. A treasured Japanese maple dried up in one year's time. Bamboo, which runs almost weed like in these parts, dried up just as Spring was springing. What the hell?
Answer is, sometimes it just isn't meant to be, even in the emerald city of Portland. It's a greater life lesson that we take away from the experience...that the beloved can be sadly ephemeral and that nothing in life is guaranteed. From there we can learn to live as much as we can in the present, savor what we have in front of us right here, right now, and cherish the memory of that which we cannot touch, taste, or smell anymore.
The photos are various early spring shots from my yard and beyond!

Winter Past

Wow, that sure flew by. Winter was but a whimsy. I spent some of the season snapping photos of some of my favorite winter scenes, much of which was Woodstock Park. I might have over done it, but, the park was a huge part of almost every winter day, for both my dog and for me.
I did manage to catch some lovely winter landscapes. Unfortunately, only one will upload! I will leave you with it, a picture of a brave little calendula, burnished strawberry plants, and tight buds of cosmos, all of whom lived in my garden until this past December. x

Lost Month and Voodoo Vine

I don't know what happened but I have the distinct feeling of having just woke up from a frustrating dream. Writer's block, combined with a healthy dose of hopelessness, can do that to a woman.
Spring sprung long ago around here, but my own sense of rootlessness has kept me out of the garden. I've been swamped with gardening mags galore, lusting shamelessly over the latest purple or copper leaf, the Suessian plant shapes that are bred year after year. I must work the earth, but I can't put too much of myself into my latest patch of dirt...it hurts too much to leave and I may well have to leave this particular house soon.
Nonetheless, this gardener weeds and digs on.
I'm going to dabble heavily in annuals this year. Having owned a home for a decade, I kind of abandoned most annuals except ones with colorful leaves that are easy to propagate. Now I'm all turned on my the idea of purple/black ruffled annual poppies, mahogany and cream colored nasturtium intertwining, lime green zinnia and nicotiana. I've divided and planted all of my strawberries and moved the impolite but generous dahlias that came up like weeds last summer. Sigh. One day at a time. Moving plants around makes me feel creative and productive, two very essential qualities.
And so, as the communist psychologist said in "The Manchurian Candidate", always with a little humor, comrade...I leave you with the Voodoo VIne man at the east side VooDoo Doughnuts here in Portland. Cheers!

Portland Mandala

As I've said before, I'm very proud of this city. From the free range chickens that roam my neighborhood to the excellent public transportation, Portland has been touted as the city to watch in terms of city planning and community development. The following blurb, from the latest issue of the excellent news magazine The Week, is the latest to sing Portland's progressive praises. Read on and fall in love...




There’s a reason that Portland calls itself the “city that works,” said James Conaway in National Geographic Traveler. From its bicycle-friendly layout to its widespread recycling ethic, this “verdant, forward-thinking” city has many environmental and urban initiatives that the rest of the country could learn from. Yet although Oregon’s biggest metropolis could be considered a “model for America’s future,” what makes the place so unique is a sense of cooperation and community that at times can seem retro.

Despite being situated in the center of the Pacific Northwest, Portland often feels like a European city—carefully planned and efficiently organized. The work that went into creating this urban experiment began in 1903, when John Charles Olmsted designed a system of open spaces meant to accommodate rapid population growth. The layout also emphasizes Portland’s rich natural assets, such as the Willamette River, which runs through the city. Over the course of the 20th century, the city has made a point of encouraging growth within the metropolitan area, rather than sprawl into the surrounding countryside. “Livability” is “not just a mantra here—it’s a social imperative.” Streets and building plots are small, while sidewalks are broad and parks plentiful, and “environmental sensitivity has become part of Portland’s social fabric.” Then again, it’s easy being green in a city that’s “all about sustainable, low-impact” living.

Eight percent of Portland’s population bikes to work. For the rest of its denizens, a “lovely, Czech-designed” light-rail system conserves fuel, minimizes emissions, and connects the city’s diverse neighborhoods into a “wonderfully cohesive” whole. In the newly gentrified Pearl District, abandoned warehouses have been transformed into stately townhouses. The recently renovated Gerding Theater, a “stunning architectural redesign of concrete, steel, and glass,” features extensive outdoor landscaping irrigated by captured rain water. Across the river, in Southeast Portland, Hopworks Urban Brewery is the first eco-brewpub to make certified organic beer—and how many other microbreweries use burners fueled with biodiesel or recycle their old kegs into planters for native species of grass and flowers?
Contact: Travelportland.com

Pros and Cons of Humanity

During my morning walk through Woodstock Park with Cosmo, my sweet lab/ border collie pal, I was witness to both the beauty and the ugliness of humankind.
Why do people suck? Because, they are selfish and lazy, like the young douchebag who, after passing a garbage can which is conveniently placed next to the sidewalk, aggressively threw his not quite empty caramel/mocha frappacino-ish container into a small grove of trees, also conveniently placed next to the sidewalk. How do I know what that tossed container held? It was clearly marked and I read it as I bent over to pick it up to dispose of it properly. How do I know this kid is a douchebag? Actions speak louder than words, but I guess the young have the luxury of redeeming themselves.
This morning, someone else did his part in redeeming that young man and all of the other ugliness human beings can wreak. As I was fuming, tempted to hunt down the teenager and give him a piece of my mind (yeah, that would have been effective), the clear, soprano notes of a flute being played nearby found their way into my ears, befuddling my grouchy mood. I threw Cosmo's ball in the direction of the music and saw, against a small green hill, a man sitting in a camp chair, playing jazz flute, apparently to his pooch, who was sitting in the muddy grass a few feet away from the musician, listening intently. I wish I had taken my camera with me this morning. It was beautiful. This is why humankind is also beautiful.

In a world dominated by extroverts, it seems unlikely that gardeners, in general, are introverts. Gardening is such a personal means of self expression, and an emotional one as well, that it seems it might appeal to those, like myself, who dearly need a lot of time spent alone. Of course, gardening can be extremely social as well. It certainly is here in Portland, where, in springtime, hundreds of gardeners pot up their cuttings and offshoots to sell, usually out of their yard, garage, or (lucky them) greenhouse, to other gardening Portlanders.
This system is great for me. I'm not a people person, but I do like meeting and conversing with other gardeners. I always try to learn as much as I can. I've learned a lot from folks like Ms. Ott, whose dreamy urban farm paradise flourishes down the hill on Holgate Boulevard. I get my castor bean and Impatiens balfouri (poor man's orchid) starts from her. I also love strolling around her property, enjoying the glistening water of the rock pool, listening to the gentle clucking of the curious chickens, and noting the progress of her massive but very controlled raspberry brambles...the little ruby gems that eventually cover the bushes are some of the tastiest to be found in town.
After I visit Ms. Ott's, sometimes I go to visit Small World Plants, another homegrown business, with a slightly different focus. Owner Lee Kamrass offers out of her tiny greenhouse some of the most unusual and adorable plants I have ever seen. Most of her plants are naturally tiny or are dwarf cultivars of larger varieties. Come April, Lee's small but well organized yard will be full of colorful, infant, Japanese maples, succulents of all shapes an colors planted into tiny containers, petite evergreens, and, most likely, some fascinating new-to-me plants that I will marvel over then run home to research. My favorite acquisitions from Small World plants are the dwarf Sophora prostrata 'Little Baby', dwarf Juniperus communis, and my strappy little Gasteria excelsa.
So, gardening introverts...get out there this spring and see what other gardeners in your town are tending. You don't have to do much talking to communicate...gardeners can bond via the love of plants alone. Check out your local classifieds and see who's giving away or selling plants. Your neighborhood community center or church might offer a great selection and good deals as well. Set up an ad hoc plant sale in your yard or garage and give away or sell some of your own extras. Perhaps we introverts will bump into each other and become friends.

p.s. the photos above are both Sophora prostrata 'Little Baby" , which is a native, New Zealand legume

Wicked Plants

For me, reading about plants comes in at a close second to actual gardening. I'm great at fantasizing and my garden fantasies only increase in splendor when I am nose deep in some horticultural tome. I've just finished reading Amy Stewart's latest book, the darkly humorous "Wicked Plants: The Weed That Killed Lincoln's Mother And Other Botanical Atrocities" ...took no more than one or two hours spent in the bubble bath. Some of my favorite plants are quite poisonous, like castor bean 'Carmentcita', the incredibly prolific datura of any cultivar, and the many varieties and cultivars of euphorbia. Common garden knowledge perhaps, but Amy Stewart, with a casually morbid voice, packs some fascinating information into this little tome. Petite and poison green, the book is a pleasure to hold and behold. Perfect for bathroom reading of any kind! Let the author, in this video, tease you with a trailer. Enjoy! x