Propagation - and Pot Pourri

I was tempted to title this blog "size does matter" but I thought that would be just a bit provocative.


Of course I meant the size of the pot. Both of the above are are Nasella lepida, foothill needlegrass, propagated at the same time. But the one on the left was planted from the seed flat directly into a gallon pot and the one on the right into a three-inch pot.

After potting the little guys on to the gallon pots a couple weeks ago, they have settled in and begun to green-up and grow. I was worried that they were permanently stunted.

I potted up all the three inch pots - my wonderful Mr Wood Rat trundled up load after load of soil for me - and they are mostly all doing well. The eriogonum giganteum is a bit iffy - I'll show that one later if it takes off.

Here's what the nasella lepida seedlings' wild mama looks like right now. (Well, could be their mama - I gathered seeds from various places on our property.) A bleached blond, seeds all spread to the wind.

The ones I planted directly in gallon pots have elegant silky seedheads now. But not ready for harvesting.


The native Zauschneria are proving also very easy to propagate.

Some penstemons we planted in pots, on the other hand, have not done as well as those planted directly in the ground.

In the "meadow" that I started earlier this year, after I weeded everything over a couple of fairly tedious days, there was nothing left but cudweed (which is a weedy but quite attractive native called Gnaphalium stramineum), and the penstemons - small but vibrant, and some now flowering (this photo was a couple weeks ago).


So - the meadow isn't exactly a roaring success in its first flush. The greyish stuff below is the cudweed.

Live and learn. Come Fall I'll put more in here and do more paths.

I look out on this area from where I sit here typing - and have been watching the coyote brush bush hosting in turn a lesser goldfinch, some wrens, and a cluster of bushtits - all very amusing! - Looks aren't everything, in a wildlife garden.

I also began edging and weeding on the chaparral slope - the next photo shows that area, which is to the left of the photo above, more or less.

You can see how steep the slopes are. I hope the zauschneria and nasella lepida will take hold, here, and other things TBD. Succulents are my latest thought. The scraggy things newly planted in the picture above are Lessingia filaginifolia, which if they fill in will be nice gray spreaders under the native manzanita, with little lavender daisy type flowers. I also, at random, really, planted beach strawberry (Fragaria chiloensis) there last week. We'll see if the bunnies leave them alone. So far so good - but I did spray it with liquid fence too. I'm hoping the strawberries "take over" as people say they do.

I'm not planning very well, am I? I'm not very good at the aesthetic design side of things, it turns out. But I'm enjoying learning about propagation and hope to get better at it as time goes on.

Here are the very lovely seed pods of the fairy lanterns I showed pictures of a few posts ago. I gathered their seeds, which just dribble out of the bottom of these pods as they dry and open. Not sure if they'll grow from seed or not but I'll try.


Well, at the other end of Nature's propagation efforts (she said, valiantly trying to tie this post together with a theme) are the bees, of course. Here is a bee I caught last night while the soap plant blooms were open for business.

Finally, here is an odd shot a propos of nothing, taken at sunset a few days ago, of a little hummingbird resting. I'll call it - um, let's see. How about "bird on a wire."

Outing to Ano Nuevo

The final outing I made with my friend was to Ano Nuevo, a State Natural Reserve where elephant seals mate and raise their young. I've visited Ano Nuevo many times, usually in winter to watch the fights between the males and in spring to see the babies (called weaners). All my visits have been wonderful, but a June visit is maybe my favorite. I just wish I'd brought my camera, the Ano Nuevo photos were all made by my friend. Luckily, she's a great photographer and the picture really capture the mood.

Above, a pond with natural rushes that's home to some rare frogs. The pond is on the way to the beaches where the elephant seals hang out, and we enjoyed the peaceful scene, with birds singing and the first sounds of the surf.

Further on, the truly extraordinary part of the walk began: The path was lined with Lupinus arboreus (yellow bush lupine), Abroina (yellow sand verbena) and other native plants.

I was very surprised to see so much in bloom, I'd forgotten how just a 40 mile difference can send you into a completely different climate zone. We enjoyed the walk, punctuated by the sound of seagulls, and the surf. Many lizards crossed our path. And then we started to hear the sounds of the elephant seals. Another half hour later, we finally arrived at the staging area, and got our first glimpse of the seals lying on the beach.


The docent explained to us that at this time of the year, the young males come to shore to molt. They lose all their fur, and start fresh. Interestingly, they also practice fighting, so we knew now why we'd heard them from so far. In contrast to the adult bulls, the teenagers practice in the water.


We watched for quite a while, and enjoyed to smells and sounds of the sea. Then we drove back home (with a short stopover at the Country Mouse abode).

Once home, I found to my great delight that the Dietis (fortnight lily) had started to open a multitude of blossoms.


A native of Africa, this plant (which is not a lily) can get by with fairly little water and puts out blossoms every 7-21 days. Another plant inherited from the previous owner, Dietis reseeds fairly agressively, so I always break off the seedheads right after the bloom. But when many plants go summer dormant, Dietis is at its best so it gets to stay in the garden.


Not to be outdone, the native Monardella villosa is blooming abundantly on the other side of the path. I've turned off the irrigation in that part of the garden, but Monardella does not seem to mind.



It was a great ending to a wonderful day. I was only sorry that my friend had to leave so soon. It was so much fun to explore our part of California, and to then come home and enjoy the garden.

Tilden Botanical Garden

The visit to Filoli was pleasant enough, but I'd been plotting to go to the botanical garden in Tilden Regional Park in the Oakland hills for a long time. Over a year ago, Country Mouse and I went for an excellent class on pruning native plants, but it had been too long.

My friend's visit was the best excuse, so we set off on a sunny afternoon last week.

Once you're through the Caldecott Tunnel, the drive is spectacular, with amazing vistas of San Francisco and the bay. It was a bit overcast, clouds rolling in later in the day, just the thing you want to show a visitor. And the botanical garden itself was a treasure trove of California native plants.

Different regions of the garden are devoted to different habitats, with a redwood forest, northern rain forest, sierra foothill and alpine areas, a desert region and more. Above a picture of Rhododendron occidentale (western azelea), from the redwood forest.

The garden staff carefully prepares the soil in each area so the plants have a chance of survival in areas where they would not normally grow. For example, the calochortus below is most likely Calochortus amabilis and likes rocky and well drained soil, so it's grown in a raised bed.


The Triteleia below likes the same conditions and looks stunning (and how nice to have the plants at eye level!).


I must admit I did not take very good notes, especially when the plants seemed to be clearly unsuitable for my clumpy clay.

But even plants I can grow, though, looked healthier and bigger at Tilden. Here's a Carpenteria californica, still lush and blooming.

The expert staff, moisture coming in from the bay, and maybe just time do the job. We were told during our last visit that plants only get a name plate when they've survived for a full year.

Here are some lillies, probably the same ones I showed in my Garden Blogger's Bloom Day post. I am so thrilled I have 5 flower stalks. Tilden had 30? 40?


Another lily was 8-10 feet tall, with the stem partly trailing over some branches and \huge blossoms. Don't know what it was, but we were impressed.

Same with Trichostema lanatum Woolly Blue Curls. I'm thrilled that mine has not died (well, it's not a year old yet), in Tilden they almost grow like weeds.


Tilden is famous for the many different species of Arctostaphylos (manzanita) of all sizes. Many are endangered and either grow only in Tilden or only few other specimens exist in the wild.

But the more ordinary plants are also shown to good effect, as this beautiful display of Clarkia amoena (Farewell to spring).




There was too much to see, not all of it obvious. Many clever ideas, like these succulents in the wall.



I already want to go back to see whether the cactus is still blooming, and what else there is to see.


But I'm also happy to look out at my own garden, grasses swaying in the wind, the yarrow putting out blossoms, and the Towhees waiting for me to refill the bird bath.

A Pleasant Outing to Filoli

When I have visitors from out of town, I often take them to see Filoli. "Located 30 miles south of San Francisco, Filoli is an historic site of the National Trust for Historic Preservation and one of the finest remaining country estates of the early 20th century." Of course, I mostly go to see the gardens, but the house is interesting as well, and the many docents available to answer questions make the visit very enjoyable.

This time, I brought an out of town guest and an old friend who'd been to the garden before. When we got out of the car, we were immediately enchanted by the play of light in the olive groves near the entrance. The shade of these mature trees looks so inviting, but we had only an hour (Filoli closes at 3:30) and walked on.


The first area where we lingered was the rose gardens. There are several rose gardens, and two had passed the first flush, but the third was stunning. We looked around amazed, smelling the heady fragrance.

Even more impressive to me was the border to the left of the roses.

Lavenders, Nicotinia, and other perennials combined in an interplay of colors, shapes, and textures. I always dream that one day I'll strike that balance between overplanting and showing off my mulch. Filoli has a team of gardeners, assisted by a small army of volunteers, and they clearly know.

Just a delight! And even the foilage colors harmonized and added to the pleasing effect.



Moving on, we arrived at the knot garden, which was clearly at its best.


This part of the garden is justly famous, and I've see pictures of it in several publications about gardens. The plants appear to form a pattern, one type climbing over the other.


The effect comes from the foilage color, though some of the perennials and shrubs that were used for this garden also bloom.


From there, we walked past the daffodil field, which shows a football field sized display of daffodils in spring, into the Camelia garden, where 20-foot Camelia and Rhododendron, together with ferns and woodland understory plants, invite for a rest.

After we'd enjoyed the shade, and a few late-blooming Camelias and Rhododendrons, we walked past the sunken garden, which was also being replanted, and were struck by the beautiful color combination of this clematis and yellow rose. My friend loves roses and so enjoyed the display.


We then took a brief tour of the house and enjoyed the flower arrangements and the feeling of having a glance at a time that's not so long gone and seems so distant. Then we walked back past the main entrance, where I took a photo of a Salvia clevlandii that had already struck me on the way in. That plant, and a beautiful Madrone, add to the sense of place for me. Those plants root Filoli in California, adding a pinch of salvia smell to the fragrance of all the different roses.


I was sorry that I can't bring my out of town guest back for the fruit tasting in the fall, the amazing luncheon in December, or the daffodils, but we all enjoyed Filoli on this beautiful June day, and each of us found special plants and places to treasure and exclaim about.

In Praise of Baccharis Pilularis

A neighbor of mine, new to gardening with natives, is designing a fire-resistant, deer-
resistant, mostly native plant garden around her south-facing home, with the help of a class
such as the ones I took with Fran Adams, and some advice from the fire department. I've been
gladly loaning her books and chatting about my experiences and showing her what has worked for me. So it was a bit of a jolt to hear her declaim that she hated our natively abundant Baccharis pilularis, and its "summer snow" of
floating seeds (so dubbed by someone on the Gardening with Natives Yahoo! group).

"Oh, no - Greasewood is something else. Chamise, Adenostoma fasciculata. They are very flammable, that's right. But these are Coyote Brush. Not nearly so flammable." I looked at them with her eyes and then with my eyes and then with her eyes again. So much of the pleasure we take in plants (and other things) originates between the ears.

It's true our native Baccharis p. can get very straggly, intertwining with Chamise and other
shrubs. They grow vigorously and add to the fuel load. But according to the fire management
page on Las Pilitas Nursery's web site, they are pretty good for flammability. Better than a
lot of shrubs on the USDA recommended list of non-native fire resistant plants, such as
pittosporum.

Anyway, besides their good marks for fire, Baccharis are fun to prune up. The wood is soft
and easy to cut. They are pretty when you shave their hairy legs and remove some of the
lower straggly limbs, and they stay green all year.

Bacharis pilularis are also much loved by bugs, and by birds who love bugs. Here is a
Bewick's wren I saw last week (through my office window). He was hopping about those lower
branches and the ground nearby poking about for insects. Bushtits and lesser goldfinches
gobble up the white fluffy seeds,

The topic of those fluffy white seeds came up again today when I was honored by a visit from
my Town Mouse co-blogger. She had yet another objection. "I heard they reseed freely and I don’t want them all over my yard!"

But I had an answer for that too: they are dioecious, and nursery trade stock is
all male. The Las Pilitas web site entry for Baccharis says this could have bad consequences:

The problem for we horticulturists/biologists is that only male plants are utilized in the landscaping trade for Baccharis pilularis. If these are substituted for B. pilularis var. consanguinea in ecological restoration, there will not be as much seed set and recruitment of new individuals.

(http://www.laspilitas.com/nature-of-california/plants/baccharis-pilularis-consanguinea
accessed 6/17/2009).

So that’s the downside for a Country gardener – they do feely seed everywhere there is bare, disturbed or cleared soil. But really hardly at all where there is mulch.

In Praise of Coyote Brush - Baccharis Pilularis

I have had the pleasure this spring of visiting with a neighbor who is learning about landscaping and native plants and, with the help of a class, is working up a design for a mostly native plant garden around her south-facing home. It's been a pleasure to talk with someone who so easily sees the many benefits of native plants, for drought tolerance and wildlife value, and for the aesthetics of a garden appropriate to the rugged area we live in. So it was a bit of a jolt to hear her declaim, as we walked through the chaparral area:

"Oh I got lots of those, what are they called, greasewood bushes? I hate those things. They're very flammable, I was told. And they get all that white stuff on them in summer, it's so messy."

I realized she meant our native and abundant Baccharis pilularis consanguinea, and its "summer snow" (so dubbed by someone on the Gardening with Natives Yahoo! group). The picture at the top of this post shows the seed heads just beginning to open. Bushtits and lesser goldfinches gobble them up in the golden days of late fall.

"Oh, no - This isn't Greasewood. Some people call Chamise greasewood. That is very flammable. Other things are called greasewood too [Sarcobatus]. But these are Coyote Brush. I really like Coyote Brush. Not nearly so flammable." I looked at them with her eyes and then with my eyes. So much of the pleasure we take in plants (and other things) originates between the ears.

It's true our native coyote brush can get very straggly. I've pulled out long long branches easily twenty feet long. They stay where they die and add to the fuel load.

But according to this fire management page on Las Pilitas Nursery's web site, healthy coyote brush are pretty good for flammability. The "leaf burn" page has long lists of burn times - how long it takes a leaf of each species to ignite with a blowtorch. - The writer doesn't claim these are scientific results - just one person's practical test, a person with a background of many years experience as a volunteer firefighter.

Baccharis is in the "greater than sixty seconds" group, which is the best group. Lower on the page he shows the flammability ratings of many popular non-natives, like lavender and various other Mediterranean plants used for drought tolerance. Lavender was in the 20 seconds group. Quite a lot of them were more flammable than the natives.

I don't actually know what the difference between 20 and 60 seconds means in terms of surviving a wild fire. The writer also says (along with other web sites on the topic) that the most important way to improve defensibility is to maintain good hygiene (weed clearing) and to plant thinly in the "defensible space" areas around the home, avoiding "fire ladders."

But it does seem a shame if people remove perfectly wonderful chaparral habitat because they fear fire, then replace it unwittingly with more flammable non-native alternatives.

Besides their fairly good marks for fire (I've seen it burn on the burn pile so I'm not so sanguine about consanguinea as all that), the Baccharis that grow here are fun because they are so easy to trim up, and they stay pretty for quite a while. You start out with a shaggy wild looking shrub and end up with something light and airy looking. The wood is soft and easy to cut, and they take the pruning without blinking a lenticel. Did I mention that Baccharis remain green year round, without irrigation?

Baccharis volunteer in our south garden area regularly, and I've let a few of them grow to about three or four feet, before cleaning up their hairy legs. I'm a beginning pruner, so if nothing else, it's good practice.

I should mention that along the coast nearby another variety of coyote brush grows low to the ground, Bacharis pilularis pilularis. A few more local varieties are less widespread. B. douglasii likes moist habitat, and slender leaved B. viminea, AKA B. salicifolia, is also called Mule Fat because mule deer browse on it.

Low-growing Baccharis cultivars are widely used as drought tolerant ground covers. Twin Peaks is popular but has shortcomings, and I understand Twin Peaks II is an improved cultivar. Santa Ana and Pigeon Point varieties are also favored. I tried growing Pigeon Point but it did not thrive here, on the steep slope where I wanted to use it for erosion control. I also am now concerned about inadvertently creating hybrids - I'd like to keep the local natives pure (though I hate how that sounds!) but that is probably a vain hope. And I'm reluctant to rip out my Dr Hurd manzanita too as it's finally getting a bit larger and is pretty. I'm conflicted!

I like looking out my office window at my little trimmed up coyote brush. There's not a lot else to look at right now in this area, but that's another post! Sometimes a bunny takes shelter under it. Here is a Bewick's wren I saw last week, poking about at the foot of the bush for insects.

Wrens are so tiny and pretty and intent.

The topic of those fluffy white seeds came up again yesterday, when I was honored by a visit from my Town Mouse co-blogger, and we took a turn about the garden. She had yet a different objection.

"I heard they reseed freely and I just don’t want them all over my yard!"

But I had an answer for that: they are dioecious, and nursery trade stock is all male.

The Las Pilitas web site entry for Baccharis says this could have bad consequences:

The problem for we horticulturists/biologists is that only male plants are utilized in the landscaping trade for Baccharis pilularis. If these are substituted for B. pilularis var. consanguinea in ecological restoration, there will not be as much seed set and recruitment of new individuals.

(http://www.laspilitas.com/nature-of-california/plants/baccharis-pilularis-consanguinea
accessed 6/17/2009).

Ya, not going to get far trying to restore a habitat with a bunch of guys and no gals. I don't have that problem - and I guess that’s the downside for this Country Mouse – they do freely seed everywhere there is bare, disturbed or cleared soil, though hardly at all where there is mulch. Where we cleared in the lower chaparral area a couple of years back or so, we now have a carpet of foot-high striplings, and I'm not sure what to do about them. I should probably have scuffed them when they were one inch high.


I am entertaining the thought that I could keep them low with hedge trimmers, at least in one well defined area. They do provide some cover for the bunnies and I regret the shelter that we have taken away. Those straggly intertwined branches of old chaparral shrubs were like roof beams, creating open spaces beneath for the lesser animals to hide and forage in. But we'll see.

In other news, the house finches who nested in the Webster may or may not have raised their family. The female sat on the nest quite a lot, and I think I saw a couple of open beaks demanding food. The parents hung anxiously around for quite a while after they stopped sitting in the nest, then disappeared for a few days. I never saw a young one out and about, no full grown babies pestering mommy to keep on providing food. (There's a lot of that going on right now, and testy mothers chasing them off to get their own food). I have a fear that the babies fell out of the nest and our ever alert rat terrier gobbled down the tasty and much anticipated snack in a quick and guilty gulp.

But now they're back, and the female is sitting in the nest again. I see her little head when I look through the garage door. Sometimes she flies out when we go out to the garage, and sometimes she just hunkers down. I hope they have good luck.

Garden Blogger's Bloom Day-June

As Ms Town mouse said we had more rain later in the season than usual, and it has been a mild June with little of the blistering hot sun that dries out the soil. It's been a wonderful year for wild flowers. One wild flower that grows in my garden natively is the fascinating soap plant California Soaproot, Chlorogalum pomeridianum. It's a perennial plant, growing from a bulb.

The photo doesn't do them justice but is the best I could do at sunset. It looks down on a four foot drop to a terrace where the plant decided to grow. It is easily 8 feet tall with flower - the plant is several years old.

The star shaped white flowers spangle a huge inflorescence that rises a rosette of long strap-like leaves. They open around sunset so that night-flying insects can pollinate them. As Wikipedia says:

The juices of the bulb contain saponins that form a lather when mixed with water, and both Native American people ... and early European settlers used the bulbs as a kind of soap; this is the origin of the plant's name. It was particularly used for washing hair, since it was held to be effective against dandruff. Extracts of the bulbs could also be used as a sealant or glue

Another welcome surprise is a large cluster of Triteleia laxa, Ithuriel's Spear. I planted these years ago in a container, following a class given by Fran Adams, about planting native plants in containers. She kindly gave out native bulbs to participants. And here they are better than ever, though neglected dreadfully. Their leaves are somehwat yellow, probably from overwatering. I forgot they were in there, and I had been watering the miniature dahlia also in that pot.


Here's a closeup:


Finally, the annuals I planted this year for the first time are doing well, though I hope next year they will reseed and grow a bit more thickly.

Here is a Clarkia unguiculata blossom:


And here is a chunky Dudleia caespitosa:


I'm hoping to get time to blog about meadow madness, and potting pottiness but life, she is filled with much to do ....

Please read the next post if you're curious about the blooms in the suburban garden where Town Mouse lives.

GBBD: June Garden, Suburbia, CA

In June, the garden slowly goes to sleep. Many of the natives drop their green leaves and don a new set of grey leaves. Yet others are putting out the last flowers before summer dormancey. And a few are just getting started.

Lilium pardalinum (Leopard lily) started out as a single plant in October 2006 and bloomed in spring 2007. After summer dormancy, she returned as two plants in spring 2008. And this year? Five plants, all getting ready to bloom. She lives in a somewhat soggy area with terrible drainage (it's a long story) but seems to be quite happy.

Aquilegia formosa (Western columbine) delights with a similar color scheme. I had high hopes of showing her off during the garden tour. Now it's two months later and finally, here are the blooms. The hummingbirds are happy, and so am I.


Nearby in the shade I have two hydrangeas, which I bought before I started to get excited about California natives. Schizophragma hydrangeoides 'Moonlight' is a vine that gently spreads along a fence and rewards with big, beautiful flowers in summer.


A varigated hydrangea that I planted for the foilage, which lights up the shade under the redwoods, also rewards with beautiful flowers. Both get by with relatively little water, and they appreciate the shade.

Also in the shade, and starting to trail down a retaining wall, is Salvia cacaliifolia (Guatemalan vine sage). I started with 5 very small plants a few years ago, and find this winter dormant sage can take rather shady conditions and still blooms beautifully to the delight of the hummingbirds (they don't seem to mind this sage is blue).

Close by, in part shade, some much maligned Agapanthus are starting to open. "Few plants give so much for so little" says the East Bay MUD book. I agree. My agapanthus, inherited from the previous owner, start up when the rest of the garden starts to dry out a bit, and I love the extra color of the showy large blossoms and the green leaves.


On the sunny side of the garden, Salvia clevlandii has started to delight with its beautiful fragrance and great display of blossoms.


This year, after fairly decent rains, the blooms look bigger than ever.


On the Mediterranean mounds, the poppies have almost disappeared -- well, I pulled them because they looked ratty -- but a row of lavenders has started to bloom.


To the right of the lavender, Salvia spathacea (Hummingbird sage), planted in the fall, has grown tall and is putting out beautiful blooms to delight the hummers. Different grasses, still beautiful in their shades of tan, harmonize with the green of the lavender and the sages. I have interplanted the sage with some Asclepias speciosa (butterfly weed).



I hope this interesting plant (which goes winter dormant) will work out in this spot. I want the butterflies, but I don't want to look at a bare mound in winter.


Just around the corner from the mounds is an area where I removed some concrete and planted some sun lovers. I started by scattering seeds of Clarkia amoena (Farewell to spring). I'm using the hybridized variety for the big show it's putting on. Just have a look.


I don't usually care for pink, but give me an annual that blooms all of June with no water, and reseeds even on bark mulch, and I'll relent.


As usual, I'm posting a bit early because I won't have time tomorrow. But I expect you all know that June 15 is Garden Bloggers Bloom day. Go over to May Dreams Gardens and see what the rest of the world has to show. I'm looking forward to it already. Thanks Carol -- and thanks fellow bloomers.